A few of us students had obtained permission to take our meals daily with a private family in the town. We waited for every meal from five to ten minutes; a fragment of time which we usually expended in chatting, joking, and skylarking. A large scientific work, in royal octavo, lay on the table--probably the only book treasure of the house. Several of us expressed a desire to read it, but regretted the lack of time and opportunity. One of our number, however--a silent, studious sort of chap--quietly took up the volume, nibbled at the title-page, glanced over the table of contents, and attacked the preface. In a moment more he was called to the table, and after eating, was out with the rest of us. At the next meal, he resumed his reading where he had left off; and so on from time to time, until the continuity and steady purpose of his occupation attracted attention and exposed him to many a volley of chaffing from his companions. He only smiled, and went on with his reading, while we went on with our usual chitchat, until at last we forgot to notice him at all.

The winter passed away; the spring approached; and the last dinner-bell of the term had just left its final clatter in the air, when the young man closed the book's covers with an emphatic slap, and an announcement of, "The end." All the rest of us had wished to master the book, but hadn't had the time, so we thought; he, by reading a little three times a day, had transferred its entire contents into the treasuries of his mind! Just imagine what we could accomplish if we applied this principle to our Bible studies!