At a very early period of my infancy, I proposed, in common with others of my cotemporaries, to rival the late Duke of Wellington or Admiral Nelson. At a subsequent epoch I came to the conclusion that on the whole it would be more feasible to become a second Sir Walter Scott. I even got so far as to compose a poem in pursuance of this design. The subject was the “Prairie on Fire,” the only verses which I can at present remember being—

or words to that effect. A difficulty in ensuring a sufficient supply of rhymes caused me to abandon this ambition.

The next object that I proposed to myself was to become Lord Chancellor, and I often regret that the temptation of a college office induced me to abandon my chance of a post which I fancy I could have filled with some credit to myself and with decided advantage to my relatives.

I then resolved upon becoming a bishop; I had little doubts of success, especially after the temporary return to the University of a gentleman who had succeeded in reaching that desirable goal of ambition. He said, or was said to have said, that nothing was easier than to gain a bishopric if you were only “up to snuff”—a slang expression which nothing but episcopal authority would have emboldened me to quote.