He was in the early twenties, tall and robust, with a large
round face, and with these peculiarities: that his hair, eyebrows, and
lashes were perfectly white, his eyes of a singularly mild blue, his
skin of a pinkish tint; that he was given to blushing whenever he met
women or strangers, and that he spoke with pedantic preciseness, in a
wondrously low voice. But despite his bashfulness, there was a great
deal in the man, and when an emergency rose he never lacked resource.
He it was to whom my education, and Ned Faringfield's, was entrusted,
while the girls and little Tom still strove with the rudiments in the
dame-school. He it was that carried us to the portals of college; and
I carried Philip Winwood thither with me, by studying my lessons with
him in the evenings. In many things he was far beyond Mr. Cornelius's
highest teaching; but there had been lapses in his information, and
these he filled up, and regulated his knowledge as well, through
accompanying me in my progress. And he continued so to accompany me,
making better use of my books than ever I made, as I went through the
King's College; and that is the way in which Phil Winwood got his
stock of learning eked out, and put in due shape and order.
It happened that Philip's taste fastened upon one subject of which
there was scarce anything to be learned by keeping pace with my
studies, but upon which much was to be had from books in the college
library, of which I obtained the use for him.
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