The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"

CHAPTER XIX. COMFORT. CHAPTER XIX. COMFORT. When I came to know what I had done, through shameful levity, and heedlessness, and selfish triumph and greedy ways—for that crab had much to do with it—also through laziness, and, self-conceit, and the absence of humble gratitude—which would have taught me to fall on my knees, instead of skipping up like a bubble—for many hours I lay and groaned, and was much more likely to sink into the earth, than ever to mount into the air again. My mother, in her first great shock and anguish, had called me a wicked boy, and said that I never ought to have been born; and I could only answer— "Oh, how much I wish I had never been! But it was more your doing than mine, mother." I believe that I should have gone mad, after seeing the people come with father's coffin, if I had been left in the house, to hear, and think of all that they were doing. For mother was not at all strong-minded, but kept on falling from one condition of heart into the opposite; and sometimes cried by the hour, and sometimes laughed at herself, for the soreness of her eyes. And then it was so clear what father had been, by the way that every one spoke well of him—so gentle, and generous, and kind-hearted, and living entirely for the good of others—that instead of being comforted, I cried more, to think that it was I, who had destroyed all this. Several people took me by the hand, or patted my head, and made me look up at them, all of them seeming to say the same words, so far as I took heed of them—"Don't fret, my boy, don't knock under like that. It can't be helped now. Why, you did not mean to do it; and you must bear it, like a man, you know." But all this only made me fret the more; my heart was so broken that I touched no food, and I kept on asking every man, who looked at all like an authority, to please to get me sent to prison for seven years' hard labour. Finding no one ready to do this, I banished myself to the coal-cellar, and had a fresh cry with the maid, whenever she came to fill the scuttles. For no one else came near me now, my poor mother being unwell upstairs, and the command of the house handed over to people, who called themselves her nearest relatives; and were so, if Uncle Bill had met with a watery grave, as was supposed. These people were the Stareys of Stoke Newington,—a widow lady, and her two unmarried daughters, beginning now to be old maids. Mrs. Starey was mother's half-sister, yearly fifteen years the elder; and so her daughters were my half first cousins, and might have tried to help me. Mother said afterwards, when she came to know of all their conduct, that they did their best to send me after father; and for a very good reason of their own—if I were out of the way, they would be the nearest to her (if Uncle Bill were drowned, as they had reason to hope of him) and under my father's will that might be of no little service to them. But it is not in my nature, to believe that they would act so. And even by seeming so to do, they lost all chance of everything. So much wiser, as well as sweeter, is it in the long run for us, to be kind to one another. But to dwell upon this, is hateful to me, and I cannot bear ill-will. Most likely the truth was simply this, that they had quite enough to do, with mother lying ill, and father dead, and could not be bothered with me as well, and therefore, were glad to be quit of me, saying that a boy's grief soon forgets itself. And if I did not eat, it was because I was not hungry; but time and youth would soon cure that. And perhaps they might have done so. However, a man who was not in the habit of judging people harshly, the Reverend St. Simon Cope, was highly indignant with them. As soon as he heard of our sad loss, he thought he had a right to come and help us, as a minister of the Lord, though we were not in his District, and even belonged to another parish. Mr. Cope was not at all the man to move his neighbour's landmark, and he knew that our parson (who never came near us) was largely Evangelical, as the people who went to hear him said. So that Mr. Cope came to visit us, and was careful to put it so, not as a minister of the Word, but as my tutor in dead languages. In whatever capacity he meant to come, no sooner did he see how we were placed, than he threw parish boundaries overboard, and became the true minister of Christ. It is not for me to tell what he said; such matters are far above me. And in truth it was less what he said than did, and his manner of doing it, that moved us. I had thought him a very cold man before—so little had he shown of feeling, as perhaps was needful among boys, but now brave tears were on his firm thin cheeks; and I sobbed to look at them. "Tommy," he said, as he drew me forth from the coal which was all over me, and he never had called me "Tommy" before, which made it sound so kind to me; "Tommy, you must get up, and wash, and take some food, and come with me. Your dear mother is very poorly, and I have promised to take you to her. It is the greatest comfort she can have; but she must not see you look like this." "Have I been and killed mother too? Will mother die, sir, do you think, the same as my father did, through me?" "No, my dear boy. Your mother will soon be well again, when she sees you. She keeps on calling 'Tommy, Tommy!' But they say that you refuse to go to her." "They told me, sir, that she never would bear the sight of me again, as long as she lived. And she keeps on saying, 'Wicked Tommy, wicked Tommy, why ever were you born?' And I wish I never had been, sir." "Listen to me for a moment, Tommy. Not one word of that is true. What she may have said at first, I cannot tell, and you must not think of; for she cannot have known what she said. I am sure, that you have a tender heart, and not a bitter one, my child. You have been afflicted heavily, and you blame yourself unjustly. Your only fault was sudden and thoughtless joy; and your mother sees that now. She wants you to forgive her, for she behaved unkindly, and she feels it. And if you wish to make her well, go up, and see her, and give her a kiss, and let her talk, while you say little. Then she will get some sleep to-night; she has not had a wink, since her sad shock. And to-morrow, she will be well almost, and able to face her sorrow calmly, for her illness is more of the mind than body. But go, and do what I told you first; and then I will take you to the door." Thus it was that this good man saved us, or me at least, from black despair, and consequent insanity; for who can be sane, when hope is dead? Everything came to pass, exactly as he had foretold it; though I will not attempt to describe what passed, between dear mother and myself. Such matters are more for the heart, than tongue. Enough, that when she was quite worn out, with feeling things, and talking of them, she fell into a smiling sleep, and I smoothed the bows of her night-cap, and tried not to believe how pale she was, and how many little sheaves of silver grief had set up in her fine dark hair. Then, when she was fast asleep, after having managed, with my help, to get through a calf's sweetbread—which Mr. Cope himself went all the way to Mr. Chumps, to fetch for us—and there was no likelihood of her wanting me till morning, my tutor said, "Tommy, you look respectable; which could hardly be said of you just now. Get your nightclothes, and whatever you want, and reverse the accustomed walk. Come with me to Kentish Town and I will bring you back in a day or two. But I cannot give you much time to get ready, and you will have to walk six miles an hour." If he had told me to take his hand, for an urgent appointment with the Devil, I should have done it, without two thoughts; but the only engagement he had to keep, was with his congregation. This was at eight o'clock in the evening; and counting me, and a baby, there were eight of us there for the good of it, without including the minister. This made me think, with a turn of tears, of a story my father used to tell, of his asking the Clerk at some church, why the Vicar had service at five o'clock of an afternoon on week-days, instead of seven, or eight, or nine. "Lord bless you, sir," the Clerk replied, "if we was to go into them long hours, we should never keep up with the time of day; five is our number at the outside, and no more." And although the joke was very small, it made me smile, as a bad joke does; when I never expected to have another smile. The service, moreover, did me good; though I never heard a word of it. He put me with the other boys, next day; and they were very kind to me, knowing the trouble that I was in. Jack Windsor was not there now; because Mr. Cope had plainly told his father, that he found it useless to go on with him, unless there were any downright need of a standard to pass—and it must be a low one—for the Army, or for medicine, or for Holy Orders. For all lower purposes, his tutor said that he was quite up to the average; he could write and spell, quite well enough, and was up to the mark in arithmetic. But of Latin and Greek, if by great pressure, any more were ground into him, there was no chance of it staying longer, than the time his nails (which he was always biting) would take to grow, if he left off. Mr. Windsor answered loftily—for, together with his wife, he had always taken Jack to be a wonder—that he considered his son too good, by a d—d sight, for any of the lines of life Mr. Cope had been kind enough to mention, and he would take away poor Jack that day, and put him into his own office; where he would learn life, instead of burying dead languages. Now, my dear father was in the habit of speaking his mind quite plainly; but he never would have spoken like that, so rudely; and sooner would he have bitten his tongue, very severely, I am sure, than have sworn, in the presence of a parson! However, although Jack was gone, there were several fellows who had heard all, and a great deal more than all, about me, and my inborn affliction; and although they behaved with extraordinary kindness (being all on the way to be gentlemen) whenever they thought that I was not looking, they were looking at me, with desire to form their own opinions silently, and compare them freely, when my back was turned. For the result of any peculiarity, less conspicuous perhaps than mine, is to attract attention; and that becomes a curse far greater, than the blessing of even the noblest gifts. When the Doctor was kind enough to spare my mother all the public pain of an inquest, by certifying "sudden death, from failure of the heart, after violent attack of Cholera," it might have been hoped, that outside strangers would have gone on their way, without meddling. So all right-minded persons did. They had their little talk among themselves, and expressed a very natural surprise, and agreed, or differed, according to the peace, or pugnacity of character. And the matter would have been a nine days' wonder, for the nine or ten beholders, but for the prying self-conceit of a picker-up of news for the Pratt Street Express , a penny paper, coming out on Saturdays. I will not speak ill of this gentleman; for I came to know him afterwards, and found him a pleasant, and well-meaning man. He had no intention of inflicting pain; and he freely admitted, that a sense of duty compelled him to write, what he did not believe a word of, lest a rival journal should get the start of his. My tutor, Mr. Cope, sent a line to my mother on Tuesday, to inform her, that he thought it would be, for very many reasons, wiser that I should not be present, at the funeral of my beloved father. He did not tell me, that it was to be that day; and I did not venture to ask about it, leaving myself entirely in his hands. My mother wrote back, as it afterwards appeared, that she quite agreed with him, and would not expect me, until all was over. That same evening, he took me home, and asked me on the road, whether I could bear to hear a few words from him. I said yes, whatever he thought fit, for my heart was strengthened, while I held his hand. After words of religious consolation, which fell from his lips, as if from heaven—for the whole of his life was above this world, and the preface to a better one—he proceeded partly as follows, though I cannot put it quite as he did— "From all that I hear, and allowing much for large exaggerations, you have a remarkable gift, my boy; of which I heard something from my friend, the Bishop. From my own observation, I know that your bodily frame is of wonderful buoyancy; as your mind was also, until this sad distress, for the time, oppressed it. You have very good abilities, far above the average, an extremely tenacious memory, quick apprehension, with clearness of insight, and a love of whatever is elegant; which would make you a very good classical scholar, with industry, good teaching, and above all, good health. That last is the point, which makes me doubt the wisdom of pressing you much, in that way; although you have never known a day of illness, until this trouble fell upon you. For a body so light can scarcely contain the substance needful for hard work. But your duty, as to that, will depend very much upon what your father's orders were. He has left, (as I happened to observe) a statement in writing of his wishes concerning you. One of the ladies in the house had opened his desk, which had the key left in, while looking for some paper, to boil the kettle. And I fear, that she would have used this important paper, in ignorance of what she was doing at the moment, if I had not asked her to put it back. Then I locked the desk, and your mother has the key. It was not a will—your mother has his will—but to you it should have all the authority of a will. These things are important; but what I would speak of is, from my point of view, more important still. You know, that whatever is given to us, is given for some good purpose. Your mental gifts are not wonderful; although, as I have said, they are above the average. But your bodily gifts are quite exceptional—I think I may say, though I have never studied physics—and for them, you will have a good account to render." "But how, sir, how?" I asked with some excitement; "as yet I have only come to trouble, through all that. Please to tell me any way of doing any good with it." "At present I cannot," Mr. Cope replied; "but as sure as I am speaking to you, Tommy Upmore, the way and the means will appear, by and by. It is your duty, to improve your gift, so far as discretion and health permit, and to await the opportunity for some great good, to your country, humanity, or religion." CHAPTER XX. BOIL NO MORE. That very evening, it was thought wise that the members of the Starey family, who had come so kindly to our aid, should return to the bosom of their own affairs, at that pleasant place, Stoke Newington. My dear father was so widely known, and so loved and admired, by all the trade, that he received an exceedingly large funeral. My dear mother told me, how many high firms, nearly all of them wholesale, were represented; but I was pleased only because of her pleasure, or rather of the comfort she drew from it. Moreover, there were ancient friends who came, as well as still more of new date, and even some nephews of the name of Upmore, with warm recollections of their dear Uncle, and hopes of a mutual (though posthumous) remembrance. Some of these had a good claim to be fed, in the hunger and thirst of unavailing sorrow—for none of them was down for sixpence—and my mother, who had made a great effort to attend, naturally left Mrs. Starey, and her daughters, to offer consolation to these mourners. Among them, so deep a flow of sympathy was opened, that when Mr. Cope and myself came in, all the members of the Starey family, for our three had fetched the residue, were (as Mr. Cope said afterwards) totally unable stare . This made it incumbent upon us to send them home; and two cabs were ordered, with drivers of well-known integrity, who received the whole of them, and their goods, on condition of getting their money, as soon as their job was discharged conscientiously. Only they must get it from the people they took home, and not from those compelled to pack them off. Like all other sensible arrangements, this turned out to all reasonable satisfaction; though the Stareys made a fearful fuss about it, grieving to go away at all, and still more to do it at their own expense. They seemed to forget altogether, that when starvation stared them in the face, my father set them up in a small candleshop, and supplied them for three months, on full credit. But such is the way of the world; and what right have I to be finding fault with it, while yet I continue to belong to it? When all this was over, and my mother gone to sleep, I opened the paper which she had given me; and with two of our own best candles lit, (for my father would never have gas in the house, to ruin our eyes and to disgrace our business) I read every word of it, sighing sometimes, and sometimes crying, to find how good he had been to me, who had paid him out so badly. And private as the matter was, the public, having taken such a kindly interest in me, might fairly call me ungrateful, if I shut them out of all of it. Neither could that be done, without a confusion arising between us. My dear father had clear ideas, as to his own will and way; and while he enjoyed himself much in the world, he carried on his work to suit. He had written a letter to me, to be read when he could no more talk to me; though he little thought, how soon that would be. After things which I need not enter into, he proceeded with these words, the whole being written in a plain round hand: "You will see, my son, that I have worked hard, chiefly that you may do well. If anything happens to me of a sudden, as may be the case, after what I have gone through, your mother will be well provided for, as she has thoroughly deserved of me. Everything will be at her discretion; but I am sure that she will carry out whatever I wish concerning you. Cut no capers with my hard earnings; I think you have too much sense for that, and I have taken good care to prevent it. None of your high society nonsense, which is not fit for a tradesman's son; but a steady rise in the world, which is according to the laws of England. When the business has been well disposed of, after completion of all jobs in hand, according to the meaning of my will, you must go on with your school-learning, at the Oxford colleges, where your friend Bill Chumps has done so well. I have had a long talk with Mr. Cope, though I did not tell your mother of it, and he says that the money will not be thrown away; for it makes you anybody's equal, except among the nobility. You have quite as good a head piece as Bill Chumps, if you will stick to it, as he has done; and you will see that it pays as well to boil down animals, as to cut them up, when a man understands the business. "When you have been through the Colleges, I intend to send you into Parliament, that you may flabergast the Radicals. These are now making so much bluster, and getting their own wicked way so fast, that unless a firm stand is made against them, no man's life will be his own, no more than his land or money will. Robbery is the beginning, and robbery is the end of it; and in the middle stands the man with the biggest pair of jaws; and laughs, as he pockets all their thievery. If this goes on, a man had better lie down on his back, and rant all day, than labour hard, and be robbed of it. You have heard me talk of this, my son; but we have only turned the first leaf yet; if Mr. Panclast gets the power he has set his stubborn heart on. "Tommy, I am not a wise man, nor even to be called a clever one; but I am of a sort that is going by, and perhaps will be missed hereafter. That is to say, an Englishman, of common sense, and of fair play, and of tidy pride in his Country. All these are dragged in the dirt, by the people now getting upper hand of us; and what will come of it? They will drag themselves in the dirt, and their children; until our grandsons are ashamed to say—'I am an Englishman.' "Now mind you this, my dear son, though you have little chance of doing it, fight you, tooth and nail, against the white-livered lot of Panclast. Who is he, by right of gab, and words no more English than himself, to upset the meaning of England, and the value of an Englishman? A change will come, among the changes he is always starting, when people will try to respect themselves; and finding it all too late for that, will turn against him, who has made it so. Then a very few men, without possessing any quality at all wonderful, except their love of their Country, may lay hold of the sense of our disgrace, and make it serve for common sense. Then good-bye to Mr. Panclast! "Tommy, I wish that I might live, to see a son of mine bear share, in such an act of righteousness. But I hear your mother with the dinner ready, and I will go on about it, to-morrow." *         *         *         *         * The abruptness of this conclusion made me as sad almost as anything; although I do not see how my father, writing so much in prophetic vein, could have added anything of more precision, for my future guidance. I thoroughly understood his wishes, from the above brief sketch of them, and they agreed entirely with my own; so far at least as I had paid attention to such matters. Very few boys at school as yet, had made up their minds immutably,—as Sir Roland Twentifold had done already, and as every school-boy now does at once—what side in politics is the only right one, and how it may best be promoted. As soon as we had the time, and spirit, to look round and think again, we could not help admiring, more and more, my father's wisdom. Not, by any manner of means, on account of the sum he had left for our benefit; though this turned out to be three times as much as my mother, in her most hopeful moments, had ever dreamed of finding it. It would be unnatural, if this had failed to increase her admiration; but she wished everybody to understand, that of that she thought nothing, in comparison with subjects so much higher. When coarse people said—"He has cut up grandly. My dear lady, I congratulate you, and your most interesting son, with all my heart;" she simply waved her hand, and said, "Sir, you can never have felt, as I do. Money is only an added trouble, when the guiding hand is gone, and gross exaggerations are made about it." And she felt most deeply the great injustice, and cruel hardship, of paying for probate a sum which made her weep again; because of the utter want of feeling, exhibited by the Revenue. However, all this had one good effect, perhaps contemplated by the Revenue. To some extent, it helped to turn the channels of her grief towards indignation, as well as compelled her to look sharp, to baffle the harpies of the law, by all the resources of honesty. And so well did she manage, with the aid of Mrs. Windsor, (who became a very dear friend now, and entered into all her righteous feelings) that much disappointment, and many low suspicions, rankled in the stony heart of Somerset House. But that, which my mother, and myself, and even the lawyer whom we were obliged to employ, found the most remarkable, was the skill and forethought displayed by father, in the settlement of all trade-affairs. I need not go into particulars now; any more than I need state exactly the value of his net estate. Upon that point, there are always people, who know ten times as much as the acting executor can discover, and are not to be put down, by any process of sworn arithmetic; though as yet it had not become the duty of any public journal, to measure the depth of a dead man's pocket, and tell the world, how he divided it. It will be enough, for those who care to follow my humble fortune, to know that Kentish Town, Camden Town, Islington, and Ball's Pond were wrong—though they all agreed about it, and, if any stranger doubted, doubled it—in putting it at considerably over the sum of a hundred thousand pounds. With regard to the Works, my father had provided that any Government contracts, taken before his death, should be executed; and if any more were offered, upon like terms, his Executors should accept them, so long as the Conservatives remained in office. But if, as he clearly anticipated, the Kingdom were over-run shortly by Radicalism and robbery, the long-established firm of Upmore was not to be associated with them. For they cut down contracts to the uttermost farthing, and no honest man could work under them. In that case, our works must be offered for sale, upon certain conditions, and terms, etc., all of which proved his wisdom. But nothing proved his wisdom, and clenched his words, with a sledge-hammer power, so much as the speedy result upon his proviso about contracts. For fear of spoiling my education, and attaching a soapy smell to me, it was strictly declared, that I must keep away from meddling with a business, which I did not understand. This alone will show the absurdity of the cries (now raised for party purposes) of "soap," and "dips," and "where's the grease-pot?"—with which I still have to contend, when I rise to address our enlightened operatives. My father had foreseen, I will not say all,—for no Jeremiah could have ever done that—but some of the mumbling, and blear-eyed decrepitude of the British nation, which now sets us longing to be Boers, or Zulus, or anything but what we unhappily are. And this foresight was shown in the result of the very next general election. The Radicals, (who are forced, by their own consciences, to set every other nation in the world before their own) came in with a rampant and blatant—the former to the friends of our country, and the latter to her foes—majority of six score at least. No sooner was the result made known, with a mighty flourish of trumpets, and a proclamation of the Millennium, than a private and confidential circular was received by all substantial and enterprising Boilers. In it, the very ancient date of this typical firm was stated, as well as its rare advantages in position, and a thousand other things, including a vested right in Government contracts, and a certainty of being bought out, at a very noble figure, by the Committee of the new Cattle Market. Moreover, ashes were in great demand, for a newly formed Building-Company would take a million loads at once, to erect a thousand substantial villas, entirely upon, and for the most part of them. Everything was going up and off, just then, like steam, and smoke, and bubbles mixed, as they used to be at our chimney-top. When a Liberal Government first comes in, it sets all knaves a-dancing; and even honest folk prick long ears up, at the infectious fanfarade of the great Rogue's March. There are certain to be, at once, bright summers, kindly winters, and vernal springs; and autumn will stand so thick with corn, that even the British farmer may have some hope, to get a gleaning. Trade shall flourish, bubble-companies abound; adulteration—alone of British industries,—be subsidised; and every foreign bullet, fired into the back of an Englishman, shall go back, ton for ton, in gold. National securities went up, with the certainty that they might be sacked, without outlay in defending them; and commercial circles squared themselves, with the magic joy, which precedes the sure accomplishment of the impossible. Every sort of investment was in demand, and everybody expected ten per cent. on his capital, without posting it. Even Mr. Windsor, a stout old Tory, fell into the rush of the Liberal flood, and longed to buy my father's works; but my mother begged him not to do so, for she would have been loth to see him disappointed; and the price was high. She told him of my father's caution; and he wisely saw its force. I am heartily glad, that it was so; for without that risk, our friend and neighbour lost as much as he could afford; when the usual relapse set in, from braggart talk, and swindling promise. But while these were new, and bright, they served our turn, without fault of ours; and a Radical, of high faith, and sound cash, lost both—I am very sorry to say—in carrying on our fine old trade. When these arrangements were complete, my dear mother carried out what she knew to be my father's wishes—though he had not found time to state them—by removing to a house upon Haverstock Hill, which stood in its own grounds, and saw as little of London as a "genteel villa" could wish to do; while the omnibuses passed our gate, every twenty minutes both to and fro. Under the lawyer's advice, she bought this house, when she had tried it; and then she set up a cook, and housemaid, and a boy to do the knives, and a pony, twelve hands high, to carry me, when he went quietly, or to pitch me off, when he was cross. And, whatever the weather was, every day, by 'bus, or pony, or afoot, I went to Mr. St. Simon Cope; to learn the classics on week-days, and to hear him preach on Sundays. Until I became eighteen years old, and obliged to go to Oxford. CHAPTER XXI. THE SEAT OF LEARNING. On the very day before I went to Corpus College, Oxford, my mother did a thing she had never done, nor allowed to be done before. She took me to the Standard-man, who was ready in fine weather then, at the corner of the road, (where people rest in going up the hill) to tell them how much they weighed and measured, for a penny apiece, and anything more they pleased. My mother gave him twopence, which she said was such a lucky sum, that it might save all the ill effects, though Mr. Cope had assured her that there could be no harm done by it; and after great deliberation, with a view to sixpence, and measuring me round the chest—thirty-nine inches and a half, and levelling the top of my head at five feet six and three-quarters (to which I added two inches afterwards), he put me on his plate, and started backward in amazement. "Must be zummat wrong with this here," he said; "no young gent, of that bigness, ever could draw under six stone six. There's plenty of grown up people does; but then they be dwarfs, or mites, or scrummies. But you be a fair-grown young gent, sir; taller, and bigger than the average of the British army, now-a-days; though not up to the size of the Peelers. Never can be true weight this. Ma'am, will you please step on, to try the machine? Twopence pays for two, you know." "I am astonished, that you should think of such a thing," my dear mother answered, as she turned away; "I dare say, your machine is as right as usual. You don't buy, or sell, by it. Tommy, my dear, have your ticket printed; and come after me to our carriage-entrance." "I puts you at eighteen, ma'am, eighteen stone, every pound of it;" the Standard-man called after her, and thereby lost the sixpence which I was holding in my hand for him; "but as for this young gent, if he ain't flying Tommy, as I've heer'd of,—my opinion is that he ought to be." I was sorry to find, that the like opinion, or at least a suspicion to that effect, had already reached Oxford, long before I did. Mr. Cope had most kindly accompanied me, when I went up to matriculate; but certainly he would have kept strict silence, as to my sad affliction, unless he had thought it his duty perhaps, to speak of it confidentially to the Tutor appointed me by the College; and that appointment was rather a formal than a real matter in my time, and would scarcely be made, till I went into residence. I have known many men, who could not tell, which of the College-Tutors was their special Mentor; though in that respect, I was very lucky. However that may be, I saw at once, when the College met for the term at Chapel, that in some way or other, my fame had outrun me; and I could not ascribe it to my mental gifts, which were by no means eminent. All the under-graduates looked at me, with warm but not rude inquiry; and even the Dons, from their lofty thrones, vouchsafed me sidelong glances. And before very long, there was no doubt left; for the captain of the College Boat-club called upon me, quite early in the day, and apologized for self-introduction, on the score of public duty. As behoved a fresh-man, I was rather nervous in the presence of one so exalted; but he very soon set me at my ease; and as soon as the buttery was open, I sent for a tankard of Corpus ale, at his most kind suggestion. In a very pleasant manner, he drank my health, and said that he saw a great future before me, if I would only go in for it. I begged him to explain; which he did at once, after asking whether, as a Corpus-man, I would let him drop all formality. Being proud to be called a Corpus-man— a lucus a non lucendo nuncupative—I assured him once for all of my good-will, and freedom from little prejudices. Thereupon he stood up, and asked me to do the same; and without further ceremony took me by the collar, and with one arm at full length, held me in the air, without even putting his lips together. At first, I was certainly surprised a little, having heard so much of Oxford etiquette; but the smile on his face reassured me. "Noble!" he exclaimed, "even better than I hoped. Upmore, we shall be head of the river, four nights after the eights begin. And the beauty of it is, that you look quite unlike a feather-weight." All this was far beyond my comprehension; and he laughed again, when I told him so. "Why, of course, what I mean is, that we want a coxswain, and you are the very man for it. Our present man is two stone too heavy, as well as a bad hand at the lines. And no man fit for it came up, last term." "What lines?" I asked, "I can say the Georgics, and all the odes of Horace, and the three first books of the ' Iliad ,' except the catalogue of ships; but I don't know what a coxswain is." "We'll soon teach you the catalogue of ships," he answered, with a laugh at his own wit; "and the Corpus ship shall be the first. And as for not knowing what a coxswain is, you are all the better for that, because you can't have formed a bad style yet. Can you tell me exactly what your weight is? I should say well under eight." Upon this point I satisfied him, by producing the ticket of the Standard-man; which exalted me yet more in his esteem. "Six stone six," he cried; "and nearly forty inches round the chest! By Jove, what a stunning coxswain! And another pull we shall get out of you. With the wind astern, your head of hair will be as good as a lugsail; and with the wind ahead, we can reef it hard. My dear boy, what a blessing you will be, to old Corp first, and then to the University! No lectures to-day, as I suppose you know. I'll just go and tell the other men, what a wonderful piece of good luck has turned up; and then I'll go down to the barge with you. We'll have a day's practice with a fine old tub, and if you can't steer pretty fairly by Hall-time, you're a much bigger muff than you look, and I'm no judge of fizzy—fizzyoggery. My name it is Green, as the poet observes; but you don't see much of it in my eye. Ta, ta, Upmore, for half an hour. Don't go out, till I come back. We'll fit you up with the water-toggery." Mr. Green went down my stairs—for I lived in a garret of the highest quality—even quicker than I could have gone myself, though I gladly would have challenged him to a race up; and he chanted as he went a loud song of triumph; and all these things amazed me. What I had expected to find at Oxford, from the look of the place, and from what I had heard, was stiffness, formality, quiet, seclusion, and above all a Classic, and religious air. Bill Chumps, of course, could have told me better; but through a number of causes, I had seen very little of him lately; and the last time we met, he had no idea that I was to go up so soon. Indeed, there had been a little misunderstanding, between the Chumpses and the Upmores. We had a sort of an idea, that since Bill got his double-first, and fellowship at Pope's Eye, he had not cared to come, and have his bit of dinner with us, altogether in the ancient way. Whereas Mr. Chumps, as I found out afterwards, sticking to business, as he always did, took it amiss—and unreasonably, I think—that when we went so high up Haverstock Hill, and the gate was a good one to turn in at, he was never even asked to send his cart, with the young man in blue, for orders. And what made it worse was, that Gristles, his foreman, had set up in business on his own account, not more than ten doors from the " Mother-red-cap ," which was all in a straight drive from our place. So that when he came, hat in hand, and "solicited our custom," and old Grip knew him, and was greatly pleased to see him, my mother and I (without harbouring a particle of disrespect towards Mr. Chumps) pledged our faith, to let him call for orders. There were other reasons as well, why Bill had only made a formal call upon us, since we came away from Maiden Lane. But, if I am to go through every little in and out, the course of my narrative will be as crooked, as the voyage of the pair-oar tub, when I first held rudder-lines on the Isis. Only it is possible, that Miss Windsor, (now grown up into a fine young lady), may have had something to do with it; not only because of Bill's tendency towards her, but because she happened to hear my mother say, when his double-first was announced to us, that he might thank his father's meat for it. No one should ever repeat a thing, said without spite, yet growing spiteful by mere repetition; even as transfusions, harmless at first, grow poisonous. And I am sorry to say, that Miss Windsor had not enjoyed, as she should have done, our going up the Hill. This was the thing that pleased me most, of all I found at Oxford, that there never was any ill-will amongst us, back-biting, or scandal about one another. Every young man settled into his own set, whether by introduction, or connection, taste, or accident, or whatever it might be. If he took a dislike to any one—as young men ignorant of the world do, more than we old stagers,—he could drop his acquaintance very easily, without saying a word against him; and no resentment was shown, or felt. The two men happened not to suit each other. Each was likely to despise the other; but not to think any further harm of him. And when we did take to one another, I assure you it was something like. Among civilized people, there can be no warmer heart of friendship, combining the weakness of the school-boy, with the set strength of the man. And this was how I felt towards Green, who was the first to take me up; and that is how he has felt towards me, even to the time I write these words; and whatever I say about him, he will think as good as can be said. When he took me down, to make a coxswain of me, his good nature, and high spirits, rendered my coaching, (as he called it) a pleasure, and a pride to me. He brought No. 7, whose name was Brown; and after rigging me out in a manner, which made me think how proud my mother would have been to look at me, they put me on the hindermost seat of what they called a tub; but to me it appeared a most alarming vessel. However, I felt no fear of drowning, any more than a cork does; and before very long, I became quite happy. The beauty of the river, and the trees beside it, bright with the April of their hopes, and the meadows, where the grass began to dimple, as the light wind touched it, also the skimming of the boats around us, and the flashing of the feathered oar, together with the newness, and the freedom of the scene, exalted my spirits to the flying pitch. But never again should I transcend the control of this earthly mass, through joy. Whenever the expansion of high spirits would lift me into the soaring vein, there comes the remembrance of what I did to my dear father,—and down goes all. Alas, all my rise into the air, since then, springs from a darker, and a deeper source, and one more active in the present age—honest wrath at roguery. But of that I knew nothing at Oxford; and little, until I became, against my own desire, mixed up with political, and national affairs. With these heavy matters to carry through, I dare not linger as I would love, among the sweet memories of Oxford life. With a very few lessons, I learned enough to steer our Corpus eight, at practice first, and then in the momentous races, which began upon the 10th of May, that year. The fright I was in, that first evening of the races, was more than I can describe, and it makes me tremble now to think of it. But, with Green looking at me, as calm as a statue, and Brown behind him smiling, I gathered up my courage, and did my best, and we made our bump below the Gut. And I sent off a telegram to my mother, for the wires were just established then—"We have made our bump"—which the people in London turned into something ludicrous; but she knew from my letters what was meant. I am told that Oxford men are now become addicted to total abstinence,—a craze unheard of in my time, save as a last resource for incurables. And even when we ran the Corpus flag to the top of the rope, as we did very soon, and held a great supper in the captain's room, to celebrate this fine event, very few indeed of us could be fairly said to have crossed the large boundary of temperance. Much of the glory was ascribed to me, who had earned it, only by inanity; of which, as a lofty merit, there were then far fewer instances than now. So often was my bodily welfare pledged, first in Champagne, and then in claret, and then in port-wine, and in rum-punch next, and finally in Champagne again, that the fusion of physical and psychical emotions plunged me at length into the last new science, whose name is "Hyle-Ideology." Green, and Brown, and the rest of our oars were forbidden to exhibit mutuality, lest the Corpus flag should come down to-morrow; but the rudder fell under no such restrictions, and hard as I strove to maintain a stiff helm, it was more than any hand, and head, could do. However, they put me in a deep armchair, through the back of which they passed a curtain-rope. Then they gave me a tassel in either hand, and lifting ship and all, upon their heads, bore me with a favourable breeze to bed, while all of us chanted a nautical song. I steered the ship, throughout her course, with gravity so accurate, and so discreetly was she manœuvred, that she never once capsized. Now, this will show, whether any one of us could have had one drop too much. After this, my popularity, not only in the College, but throughout the University, became so vast, that the difficulty was to get a bit of victuals in my own room. All my friends enjoyed my simplicity of mind, and Maiden Lane views of the world; which were not at all Socratic, Platonic, Stoic, nor even Academic. Moreover, they found me so glad to be taught, and so grateful, and unpretending, that they taught me every kind of light learning they knew; so that I got on wonderfully, in every study, never contemplated by Founders, and Benefactors. Happily indeed for me, athletic contests were as yet most crude; otherwise my speed of foot before the wind would have hurried me into a world of troubles. We had a few College races, and even some rudiments of University work; but as yet nothing powerful, and glorious. How should I have felt, after being chosen to run against Cambridge, for the hundred yards, the quarter of a mile, and the hurdle race, if there had been a stiff wind blowing in my teeth, at the starting-post? All this would have probably fallen upon me, if the athletic contests had then been in vogue; and I might have won everlasting fame, or base disgrace for ever. As it was, I believed—though the whole is now forgotten—that I had established deathless fame, by steering the Oxford boat three times to victory over Cambridge. It was natural perhaps that I should be chosen for this distinguished honour, as the coxswain of the first crew on the Isis, and nearly two stone lighter than any other coxswain on the river, while looking as big as bow almost, and with some crews bigger. Yet from my low self-estimate, I was taken by surprise, when the captain of the University Boat-club wrote to me, and even begged me, for the sake of our University (which had been beaten three years running) to accept the office. Will a duck swim, will a dog bark, will a frog hop, will a Liberal run away? Without a moment's thought, I accepted; and thus began a course of triumphs for the stronger colour, which made the very cabmen shy of mounting the light-blue rosette. CHAPTER XXII. HEREDITARY LAWS. What man has not described, or made believe to be describing, the race which the journals delight to call the "Inter-University Contest"? What marvel, that we have sold our birth-right to an acephalous mollusk, when the simple use of the tongue has passed into such headless mongreldom? Self-consciousness compels such creatures to befoul their origin. I, Tommy Upmore, am not a bit better than any of my neighbours; not half so good as most of them—for I know my own faults, and I don't know theirs, or at any rate don't want to know them—but what should I be, if I hearkened to a foe, who takes out of me every gift of God, and turns me adrift, to act by nothing but the standard, apes have formed for me? "Truth is great, and shall prevail," he shouts; and to show her greatness, proves that she never did exist till now. Happily, this stuff never troubled us, while I was at Oxford. We looked upon the chosen spirits of three thousand years, and more, as likelier to have left things worthy of our heed and sequence, than the half-taught men who spring up now, and by dint of smashing make a row. The pudor , and verecundia , of youth were still existing; and we looked up to our College Tutors, and University Lecturers,—men who had made a life-long study of the work they dealt with, who attempted not to gloze our minds with universal smattering, but forced us to learn of some few subjects what is knowledge, and what is not. And this was the distinction Mr. Cope had first tried to drive into me: But no man, not di-cephalous—as some of our ancestors have been, according to the "Scientists"—can manage to serve two masters well; and being thus apprenticed to the river, I neglected the Aonian heights. My mother believed, and Mr. Cope assisted her in believing, that I might have done very well in the Schools; though not so grandly as Bill Chumps. But I passed all examinations fairly, with my solid grounding, and in the final one obtained what was called "an honorary fourth." This satisfied my ambition; though some cuts at me have been made about it, by people who knew no better. Grip , who had been, for so many years, my trustful and trustworthy friend, and had taken the warmest interest in my trencher-cap (which he cracked up) and leading-strings (which he pulled off) was immensely pleased with my bachelor's gown, although himself a Benedict. Throughout the whole of my first term, Mr. Luker, the celebrated dogman, had kept his brain at boiling-point (as he confessed most frankly, when I became his admiring client) to make this noble dog his own. With the choicest liver, he waylaid him, and the sweetest female blandishments; and Grip , with either dewlap laughing, accepted all kind overtures, but enfeoffed himself to none of them. At last, a very large sack was made of tarred material, treble thick, and Grip (overcome by his love of the beautiful) was inveigled into it. But no sooner did he find his tail shut in, and feel the Philistines on him, than he rent their toils, like a bursting shell, and flew among them, like a charge of grapnel. Thereupon Mr. Luker came to me, and explained his disappointment about the dog; and assured me, that if he could only have got him, he might have made a hundred pounds of him—to go to Egypt, and do more than England can, put courage into the native animal. And he undertook, if I would come to terms, to pledge his sacred word of honour, that "neither himself nor any other gentleman, in Oxford, or in London, should interfere with the honesty of the dog." Alas, poor dogs, whose honesty depends upon that of their master! Then Mr. Luker set before me, in words whose eloquence I cannot reproduce, the loss, not only personal but national, not only national but universal, if Grip were allowed to depart this life, without issue, legitimate and guaranteed. To him, the survival of the race of Grip was of infinitely greater moment, than the continuation of the blood of Shakespeare, or Sir Isaac Newton. "Men comes, and they goes," he said, "and the Dooce himself couldn't pick half the ins and the outs of them. But when it comes to dogs, Mr. Up, you can follow the breed, as true as their own noses is." So we came to a compact,—that he, understanding this elevated subject thoroughly, should provide, for old Grip , as meet a consort as knowledge of the dog-world might produce; and that I should have the pick of baby Grips , whenever I gave a certificate of race, as soon as each family was two months old. Thus I was enabled to fulfil old promises made to sundry friends, especially Sir Roland Twentifold, and Jack Windsor. And I always knew, which pup to choose, by following the law of paternity among dogs, that the father growls most at his noblest son. Perhaps it was good for us both, (for surely I was idle enough without him) that my old friend, Sir Roland, had made up his mind, to have nothing to do with Oxford. "When the institutions of the Country are in danger," he said, the last time he came home from Harrow, "a man in my position must not waste three years. The very week after I am twenty-one, I shall be returned for Twentibury. Toggins will vacate the seat, to order; I shall stick to it, till there is a vacancy for the county; and then we put Toggins in again. Upmore, it is quite right that you, who have never been out of leading-strings, should go into them for three years more, and get among fellows who may do you good. But for me, it would be folly to waste three years, and know less at the end than when I began. Why, at twenty-one I should be a 'Junior Sophist,' or whatever they call a man who has passed his Little-go; and I should have to wait a great deal longer, if I meant to equal Chumps. I don't want to equal Chumps; he is a wonderful fellow, and I mean to make him useful. But that is not my line of life. I don't care a penny for the Classics; but I care, every penny I possess, for the reputation of my Country." And when he came to see me at Oxford, (as he did, one Summer-term) his talk was chiefly to the same effect. "I am afraid you are a very lazy lot," he said; "you don't seem to me, to have anything to live for, except to play cricket, or pull, or smoke, or spoon upon girls in confectioners' shops"—this was meant for me, who had taken him to see, what lovely brown eyes a very nice girl had, at a place where we ate ices; but Master Roland (clever as he thought himself) little knew why I admired those brown eyes; which I may, or may not, have time to explain hereafter—"and when you have done all that, and yawned, and perhaps played a horn out of the window very badly, or cards yet worse, you can go to bed, as happy as if you had done a great day's good. Pish! I am very glad I never joined you. I want bigger games than yours." This made me feel unhappy, as if I were despised; whereas the wise men of all ages have continually told young men, to take their enjoyment while they can; going far towards proving, at their own expense, that folly has more joy than wisdom. But Sir Roland did not mean all this; and I took it for nothing but his way of talking; because he would have liked to be among us, but saw that he had thrown the chance away. My idea of life was, to spend as much of it for other people's benefit as they permit—in which matter they are most contrary—and the rest for my own good, with honest enjoyment, and the certainty of better things to come; if I do not labour chiefly to anticipate them here. And when I say my own good, I mean, of course, the good of my Country, and relatives, and friends; without which my own could not very well exist. And after all, politics are a very small part of the general life of most of us. Unless our character becomes involved, and our self-respect grows downward, (like a troublesome toe-nail, that affects our walk) by reason of base things done in our name, against our consent and conscience; and unless we see things given away, which our fathers gave their lives for; and unless we are plagued by nursery Acts of Parliament, very good for the unbreeched—it matters but little to most of us, whether the First Lord of the Treasury be a Conservative, or a Liberal. With such things I never troubled my head, even when I grew to be a Bachelor of Arts; until Sir Roland Twentifold came driving me about them, and his strength of will was tenfold mine. "Roly," I said, when I had kept my "Master's term," and enjoyed it rarely among old friends, without a stroke of work; "you will never get a bit of good out of me. I am not eloquent, I have no gift of speech; I tried it at the Union once, and when everybody cried out, 'Bravo, Tommy!' I could only laugh, and thank them, and sit down. If my father had been a Rad, when he brought me up, (as he had been in his early days) no doubt I should have been a sound Rad too. And for that matter, so would you, I do believe, if you had been brought up to it. I know at least a dozen very honourable Rads, some of them very clever fellows too; who would no more think of doing anything mean, if they had the government of the Country, than you would yourself, if you had it all your own way. Then, why should we cry out, before we are hurt?" "Because it's too late to cry out, when we are. What you say is true enough, my good Tommy. Those friends of yours are all honourable enough, individually, I dare say—though the less you have to do with them the better—but when they fall under the dominance of party, what becomes of all their scruples? They sink their own wills, they efface themselves—according to the expression now in vogue—they fall under one imperious mind; and no difference is left between black and white. My father kept hounds, as you have heard me say; and when I was a small boy, I rode my pony with them. There was one most obstinate old stager of the pack, who had a wonderful nose while he was young, and had taken the lead of all of them. But when he grew old he went all abroad; yet the rest had to follow him all the same, on a false scent, more often than a true one. At his dictation, all the younger ones, from habit, sank their own better perceptions, and loyally rushed after sheep, or donkeys, or anything he gave tongue to. But all these things we can talk of better, when you come down; as you must, next month. You have only been once to us, since you lost your father, more than five years ago. And my mother always says, when I go home, 'Have you brought Ariel with you, at last?'" "How wonderfully kind she has always been to me!" I answered, liking soft thoughts, better than the hard flash of politics; "if she wishes to see me again, my duty is to go to her." "Well, that is one way of putting it! A painful duty, my dear Tommy? We will try to make it a pleasant one. You can't shoot; though people shoot at you, when you take a flying fit. Come down in July, and stay three months, and I'll make you a first-rate shot, by the time the partridges are ready. You learn everything, like smoke, you see. I'll back you to beat Counterpagne on the first; though he has been at it all his life." "You forget one important point," I answered, hoping that the objection might not prove fatal. "When a gun goes off, it kicks very hard, they tell me. And it seems too probable, that it would kick me over." "Not a bit of it, if you lean forward. You are easy to take up, but you are not at all easy to put down, Master Tommy. You are as quick as lightning, to begin with. Nature has provided you with that, no doubt, to atone for your want of thunder. Don't be always running down yourself. There are very few fellows who can do what you can; even if you have altogether dropped your wings, through the gross feeding of these Oxford butteries. But I mean you to put on your wings again. I have a whole lot of things for you to do; and flying is a most essential part. Professor Megalow is coming down; now that I am of age, and all that sort of thing, he can stop at the Towers, as long as he likes. I am sorry to inform you, that he is a Rad. But a man of his size may be anything he likes, without being any the worse for it. I intend to consult him about you, Tommy, how we may launch you on the clouds again." "I have not seen him for years," I said; "if he is going to be there, 'twill be enough to make me fly again." CHAPTER XXIII. A COUNTY MEETING. How easy it is, for a good-natured man to be taken for the opposite; and yet how hard for ill-natured people, to put on the guise of kindness! Not that the world is distinctly divided into those two classes; for the greater part of it have mixed natures, and are operated on by the mixture. There scarcely could be any one with a better nature, than Sir Roland Twentifold. He was large-hearted, quick-hearted, soft-hearted too, (when touched at the proper fibre) and yet any Radical stranger who met him, would have thought him the opposite of all these. He had private, and personal motives, (which he disdained to speak of, as being too small; yet perhaps they were the spring of everything) for strongly abhorring what he called, "the faction now ruining this Country." I never could believe that any faction would be so factious, as to harm their Country, knowingly, and of set purpose. Yet this he believed, from the bottom of his heart; and it cannot be denied, that their words, and deeds, have gone far to bear out his assumptions. It must have been the third week in July, and the prime of a glorious summer—such as we never are blest with now—when I had the happiness of visiting, once more, the noble Towers-Twentifold. The woods, and the hills, and the meadows, and even the hollow places that faced the north, had cast away the shivers, yet preserved the freshness, of the cooler time of growth. Many of the fields were lined, or hillocked, with the peaceful tide of hay, which is late in coming into harbour there; while, upon the forward slopes, green corn was wavering into fluent pathways for the wandering wind. And among all the view of the land, flowed in that faint reflection from the distant sea, which looks as if light threw a shadow of itself. Blessed was this neighbourhood, to have no railway, out-shrieking the sea-gulls, out-reeking the whale, and even out-roaring the sea in a storm! The station was so far away, that good sound people let their journeys depend very much upon the weather; which is the proper thing for them to do. And after the abominable rush of London—which never should make any fuss about smells, that it never has time to blow its nose at—there came into my heart such a quietude of comfort, that I begged the groom, who was sent to fetch me—Sir Roland being absent at a county meeting—to drive as slowly as the horse would go. For several years now, I had been as happy as anybody ought to wish to be. I had plenty of money, (through my father's labour, and my mother's liberality) to keep myself, and to help a friend, without wasting any upon that third desirable object (in Solon's opinion) the punishment of an enemy. I was blest with plenty of friends, but cursed as yet with no single enemy; and though many of my friends were poor, they had too much pride to sponge on me, beyond the mere fringe of a Turkish towel. I had liked a great number of girls, here and there, in a strictly moral and moveable way, so as never to get any heart-ache about them, any more than they got it about me. And as for Polly Windsor, who had seemed to be marked out, by the finger of commerce, as my bride, she had certainly shown herself kind and obliging, after we moved into our new house, and had helped my dear mother to spend much cash, in adorning it with hideous devices. But, as soon as Bill Chumps came back from Oxford, with his double-first, and his six feet two, to read for the Bar at Lincoln's Inn, she became too personal—and I might say bodily—in her sentiments, to suit my taste. "Do you mean to grow any more, Tommy?" she had asked, as if love were a question of inches; "why Mr. Chumps must be a foot more than you are; though you have got your heels three inches high." "On account of the curve of my foot," I answered; and she knew what I meant, though too delicate to say it; for her feet were like a pair of soles, without any right and left to them. And this made another little breach between us. Moreover, there was now in my mind, as there always had been indistinctly, the remembrance of a pair of sweet brown eyes, which used to grow bright, and dim, with mine, in the joy, and grief of early days. I knew, without thinking about it, that Laura Twentifold was far above me; far out of sight beyond poor me, in birth, and beauty, and goodness. Also I knew, that she was intended to marry her cousin, the Earl of Counterpagne; for the good of the family, and of the kingdom too. None the more for that, could I help longing to see what she was like, now time was come for her to be quite a full-grown young lady, with a will of her own, as I heartily hoped, and a kind recollection of her old playfellow. Since the time of the whale, I had never beheld her, except in a great many dreams of the night; because she had been sent from home, to learn foreign language, and every accomplishment. The dinner-bell was ringing, as we drove up to the door; for her ladyship held by the good old fashions, and would have no new-fangled gong in the house; and I had only a quarter of an hour, to make ready. So that I was not at all done up, to my liking, failing to find—as always happens in a hurry—some of the things that were most becoming. This flurried me, doubtless, and heightened my colour, so that I blushed at my own red cheeks. But anything was better, as my own sense told me, than to keep ladies waiting, for an unimportant young chap like me. When I entered the drawing-room, Lady Twentifold, looking more beautiful, and sweet than ever, came up, and took me by both hands, and with all the friendliness of early days, touched my forehead with her smiling lips. At her graceful condescension, tears gleamed in my eyes; and she took them for the thanks I could not utter. Then Professor Megalow, with his gentle stateliness enhanced by the silver now appearing in his curls, shook hands with me cordially, as if I had been his equal, and said some of the pleasant things, which were always ready for his pleasant voice. I could not help feeling ashamed of myself, having never done anything to deserve such friends. "We must call him 'Ariel' no more, I fear," Lady Twentifold said to the Professor, with a smile; "we must get you to invent a new name for him, out of the depths of your palæontology." "I think we must allow him to name himself; as some of my animals have had to do. What shall we call you, my old confederate?" "Everybody seems to call me Tommy," I answered, finding this the truth; "and it sounds more natural than any other name. One of the examiners forgot himself, and called me Mr. Tommy, in the Schools, instead of Mr. Upmore." "Then come, Mr. Tommy," Lady Twentifold replied, "and let me show you an old friend, whom you have not seen, I think I may say, ever since you were my Ariel. Laura, do you know who this is?" The loveliest maiden the eye could light on, even in a flight among the angels, came forward from the shelter of the summer curtains, and looked at me, with shy surprise. It was a very short look; and yet it has lasted in my heart all life, and will last there through all future life. Each of us wanted to say something; but neither knew exactly what to say. So we only shook hands, and waited for the easier times of talking. "We never wait for Roland, now he is so busy," our hostess said to the Professor; "he has scarcely time to feel the necessity, which others feel, for nourishment. When he is an older politician, he will not live entirely on politics." "Zeal is the great point, in any pursuit," he answered, as she took his arm; "unhappily it cools too often, before it is replaced by habit. But in his case, it will not be so. He has more than zeal; he has constancy." "Sometimes, I wish that he had less;" Lady Twentifold answered, with a little sigh, while her daughter came for my timid guidance; "when there are so few of us, it seems hard that the public should claim so large a part." We dined in a snug little room, and at an oval table I believe; for our small company would have looked forlorn, in the grand old dining-room. For my part, though the Professor talked, as he did when he chose, most wonderfully, with rapid turns of pleasant thought, and leaving, for slower minds, suggestions to bear fruit at leisure, I remember nothing but the smiles, and gaiety, his bright humour spread. The smiles especially I rejoiced in—not my own, but sweeter ones, which thus I had the happiness of watching, and sometimes of sharing in. Are not all sweet smiles the offspring of a sweet reflection; and therefore can they be complete, until themselves reflected? Beautiful Laura, at every smile, looked up for me to share in it; and thus our eyes made bright acquaintance, and our minds went on together, without any need of words. And every now and then, she asked me some little question about myself, which made me proud to be myself, for the sake of such fair memory.

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