But he conceived a desire that the future head of his office should be a university man.

So he announced his resolution, and to Oxford went young Wardlaw, though he had not looked at Greek or Latin for seven years.

He was, however, furnished with a private tutor, under whom he recovered lost ground rapidly.

The Reverend Robert Penfold was a first-class man, and had the gift of teaching.

The house of Wardlaw had peculiar claims on him, for he was the son of old Michael Penfold, Wardlaw's cashier; he learned from young Wardlaw the stake he was playing for, and instead of merely giving him one hour's lecture per day, as he did to his other pupils, he used to come to his rooms at all hours, and force him to read, by reading with him.