CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
HOW I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF AN OLD FRIEND.
Boys may imagine with what astonishment Jim Halliday discovered, on receiving the legacy bequeathed him by his dead friend, that I was the very watch which years before he had known so familiarly as the property of Charlie Newcome.

At first he could not believe it, and marvelled how any two watches could be so much alike.

Then he discovered the "C.N." scratched long ago inside, which he well remembered.

And further inquiries enabling him to trace me back to the Muggerbridge silversmith, and from him to the pawnbroker's sale in London, he had no doubt left that I was actually the watch of which nothing had been heard since Tom Drift owned me.
My new master did not long remain in Cambridge after the death of his friend.

He left the University in many respects a more thoughtful and earnest man than he had entered it, and in leaving it set himself honestly and faithfully to the work for which he had prepared, and on which his heart was fixed.
I shall not follow him through all the labours of his first village curacy, which lasted a year, during which time many people learned to love the manly, open-hearted young clergyman, and to bless the day when he had been sent among them.
At the end of a year he was removed to the charge of a church in a distant large seaport, where everything was in strangest contrast with the scenes he had just left.