the old Roman Empire, en décadence, in regard to the austere early Christians. Had Austin Comberwood been at Holyshade, I am certain he would have been the true model for a Holyshadian; for, he was religious without cant, ready to sympathize with all amusements, though not strong enough to take an active part in them himself; he was cheerful without being boisterous, and to the literary tastes of a scholar, he added the application of a student, while his natural sedateness was tempered by a sense of humour sufficiently keen to enable him to avoid anything approaching eecentricity. What Austin knew to be right, his will was strong enough to perform. He distinguished black from white, in whatever light it came before him, and, in morality, he recognized no such colour as grey. I think he would have passed through the Holyshadian furnace unscorched. Yet, having experienced those fires, I am glad, for his sake, and, remembering the after part of our career, for my own, that he was not my schoolfellow at Holyshade.

At Midsummer, the public school week in town, was the realization of all our wildest and fastest dreams. They were days and nights to be recalled next schooltime, when we compared notes as to our London life, with all the zest of the heroes in that eminently delightful and morally improving, but now, alas somewhat antiquated book, "Tom and Jerry."

I had well-filled pockets, and, unlike most other boys, who rather preferred school to home on account of its freedom, I was entirely my own master in London from morning to night; for I saw very little of my father, except on a dinner-party night, or when we went to a theatre, or the opera. Between

fifteen and sixteen I was able to act the part of cicerone to Holyshadians, who, visiting the metropolis for that rollicking cricket week, wished to see as much of the amusements of the town, as their means would permit. I soon made myself acquainted with all that was worth hearing or seeing, between the hours of eight in the evening and two

next morning. The footman, who used to stop up for me on these occasions, was generously fee'd, to keep his eyes open as long as possible, and his ears on the alert for the first touch of the bell. My father heard from me of the aristocratic company I was keeping (which was perfectly true) and appeared highly satisfied with this portion, at all events, of my education.

About this time I had partially overcome my antipathy to Mr. Cavander, who, in his turn, seemed to entertain a more friendly feeling towards myself. My sore point now was my resemblance to a Manx cat, inasmuch as I was still untailed, and I yearned for the day when I should assume the virile toga and stick-ups. I was perfectly aware that for such scenes of enjoyment as were the glory of Lord's week, the absence of tails placed me at a disadvantage. At the end of my second year I came back in stick-ups, a sadder and a wiser boy; but much had happened ere that epoch arrived.

It will have been noticed in my diary that I had developed a decided taste for swan hunting. This predilection was shared by another boy, and led us into a difficulty.

Not being satisfied with the pleasures of the chase, we purchased a pistol. It was of antiquated make, and might have been exhibited as a curiosity in the armoury of the Tower. We bought it for half-a-sovereign, including a bulletmould, lead, and an old powder-flask. My companion, Parry, who was not at my tutor's, shared the expense and the privileges appertaining to the possession of this formidable weapon. That we could not use it, while the boys were on the river disturbing our game, was clear; so, on consideration, we matured a plan which we carried into effect on the first whole holiday.

After twelve, we took our "tub," and hid it among the bushes, in a creek to which access could be easily gained from a neighbouring meadow, without going through the town. We kept our scheme to ourselves, as there was only pistol enough for two.

At three o'clock we were in chapel, and when the service was nearly half over, Parry and myself were, one after the other, seized with a sudden bleeding at the nose, which necessitated our immediate withdrawal, with our handkerchiefs up to our suffering organs.

No sooner were we out, than we rushed up a lane into the meadows, and thence to our boat, in which we immediately embarked, and, unseen by a single person, sculled across into the very home of the swans, among the rushes on the other side of the river. We were not dressed in our boating costume, as to stop for this would have been to court detection. Parry carried the pistol, I the powder and bullets, and, after loading, we tossed for first shot. I won it, and sat in the stern. As we glided swiftly into the tall rushes, the swans, aroused from their siesta, took fright, and scuttled away left and right. This panic was only momentary, as in another minute they had wheeled about, poking out their heads, wagging their tails angrily, and swelling out their feathers in evidently increasing wrath. One, which might have been a model for a Jupiter metamorphosed, took the lead, and, hissing furiously, came right at us. I was now facing him in the bows, while Parry was backing the sculls towards him.

"They can break an oar," said Parry, in alarm.

"And a man's leg," I added, feeling anything but comfortable.

"You must shoot him," cried Parry. "If you're afraid, let me! I've often shot at home."

This was, as it were, a taunt which a Colvin could not stand. I knew it was the first shot I had ever had in my life, that this was the first pistol I had ever been trusted with, loaded or unloaded, and my heart thumped as I grasped the handle with one hand, the trigger with the other, and with my head on one side looked at the swan out of my right eye. In another second, both my eyes were firmly screwed up, so as to render my aim in shooting perfectly impartial, and with a convulsive con

tortion of the mouth and a nervous grasping of the trigger, I fired my first shot, and then stood amazed, and anxious as to the result. The report had almost stunned me, and the kick of the pistol had been like a powerful galvanic shock. I was puzzled and dazed; so were the

swans.

"Now then," cried Parry, excitedly, "let me load."

I handed over the weapon to him, feeling rather abashed at the result of my ineffectual experiment. In the meantime the swans had recovered from their astonishment, and were recommencing hostilities. Parry, who was older and stronger than myself, now took so sure an aim, that, by good or ill luck as the reader may choose to deem it, he wounded the largest bird, just as it was breasting my scull, so severely as to render a second shot absolutely merciful. After a few convulsive struggles the swan was dead. And here I beg to inform all poets that this swan, previous to his quitting life, did not sing one. note. He uttered a sort of a rasping sound, like that produced by a bow when scraped on the above-bridge part of the violin-strings. But as to any sweet melody, this particular swan had no more pretension to it in his dying moments than a pig under the knife. We did not stop to discuss this question, but, having lugged him into our boat, we pulled into the stream and made for a quiet nook in dead-water, where we two guilty ones could talk over the best method of disposing of our victim. The Ancient Mariner was not more exercised in conscience, than were we, now, by our unexpected success.

"They're royal birds," said Parry, lifting up one of our jackets, and regarding the lifeless mass as it lay at the bottom of the boat. "They're royal birds, I've heard, and for killing one, I forget what a fellow gets, but it's something awful."

"Is it?" I replied; "then we'd better bury it."

We had no spades, we had no picks, and saw no way of hiding it on the island where we were moored.

"Sink it with stones," said Parry. This was evidently the very thing. We managed to unscrew the iron chain at the bows, and after a long search we found a stone sufficiently heavy for our purpose. We succeeded in binding the carcase to the stone with rope and chain, and then, looking this way and that, to be sure we were still unobserved, we plunged it into the middle of the stream. It disappeared with a dull plash, but it did disappear, and we regarded each other as though we expected to see its ghost.

The rest of that "after four" we spent in watching the spot where the swan had gone down, and we came away with misgivings as to the result of this day's sport.

We kept our secret to the end.

The third party to the secret, that is, the swan, could not rest in his watery grave. Murder would out, and two mornings after this I hurried off to Parry's room, to tell him what I had heard from one of the "men at the wall," of whom there were four privileged to sell sweets, fruits, and cakes to the boys in the open air in front of the school-house, and one of whom (Spiky) had the odious reputation-perfectly undeserved, I believe-of being a spy in the pay of the masters.

Spiky was a character. His short thick neck seemed to have sunk in between his high shoulders, as though overburdened by the disproportionately big round head it carried. He was freshcoloured, with little piggy eyes, and the sliest smirk immaginable. He carried a tin box, divided into trays, filled with cakes below and apples above. He was always tidy and clean, and his boast was that he knew everything about every boy's pedigree in the school. Directly a new boy appeared, he addressed him in an unctuous tone, and in a sing-song style, with his head much on one side, thus-supposing myself the boy

66

'Well, my little Colvin, son of Sir John Colvin, of the City, stockbrokers, Colvin, Wingle, and Co., and of Langoran House, Kensington. How do you

do, sir, this morning? What can I do for you, sir, this morning?" Then turning to a very small boy, about twelve years old, in a very much damaged hat, "Well, your grace, what for you this morning, your grace? This is his grace the Duke of Chetford; his noble mother the Duchess was one of the most beautiful ladies ever seen, and often have I had the pleasure of serving his noble and excellent father, when he was a boy, on this very spot." Whereupon his little grace would invest in a tart or whatever luxuries Spiky might have in his portable

"What swan, my little Colvin? Why, the swan as was shot a day or two ago, and as belongs to Her Majesty the Royal Queen, and the Mayor and Corporation of the City of London, where Sir John Colvin has his office. It ain't quite a hanging matter, but very near it.'

"Who'll be hung?" I asked.

"I don't know, my little Colvin ; no, sir, I don't, sir; but there'll be a nice to do, sir, if they catch 'em, sir, whoever it was, sir. What for you this morning, my little Bifford minor?"

"What have you got, Spiky?" inquired Bifford minor, who was getting fatter than when he had been at Old Carter's. After inspection, he said, hesitatingly

"I haven't got any money."

"That don't matter, Minor," replied the accommodating Spiky; "you take your banbury now, my little Bifford, sir, and you pay me another time, sir.”

Leaving Bifford to the enjoyment of his banbury, I hurried off to Parry. "We shall be discovered," I said. "We shan't," said Parry, quietly.

"We can't be if we don't tell. Who's to know ?"

"Perhaps somebody saw us," I suggested.

"Well, then, somebody will tell of us. We won't," he answered.

There

We kept our own counsel. was a great disturbance, and boy after boy was questioned on suspicion. Once Gulston, a friend of ours, was nearly convicted. Then I went to Parry. "Look here," I said; 66 we can't stand by while he's punished."

"We won't," said Parry, phlegmatically, "when he is to be punished." "But if they prove he did it—” I began.

"How can they prove he did it, when we did it ?" asked my partner in guilt.

The force of this argument as a poser was evident. I was still uncertain as to our course, should they examine us separately.

"Supposing," I put it, "your tutor sent for you, and asked you if you shot the swan, what would you say?"

"I should say I didn't," returned Parry, "because it would be jolly unfair to ask such a question. I'll own it when they've found it out. Not till then."

After a while, when the excitement had worn off, somehow or another everyone suddenly knew all about it. My tutor, Mr. Keddy, sent for me privately and lectured me.

"Your conduct, Colvin," he said, in his shrillest tone, rubbing his hair irritably, "has been abominable; most abominably bad. I have written to your father. I don't know whether I shall keep you here or not."

I retired rather crestfallen. Parry was in any case going to leave at the end of the half. To be sent away was unpleasantly like expulsion.

However, the cards were to be played in my favour. The Rev. Vickers Raab, one of the senior masters, and the best scholar of Holyshade, was at feud with most of the authorities, from Dr. Courtley, whom he delighted to mimic, down to Mr. John Smoothish, the lowest master of the lowest form, and he indulged in

many a jest at the expense of Mr. Keddy, of whose acquirements he entertained a not very exalted opinion, and at whom personally he had laughed from the time they had been both Collegers together at Holyshade. It was sufficient for Mr. Keddy to think something uncommonly right, in order to convince Mr. Raab that it was most egregiously wrong.

Now, Mr. Raab having some business to transact in the City, went to Colvin and Cavander for advice, and, in the course of conversation, heard from my father of my being at Holyshade.

Sir John therefore consulted him on this affair, and being really terribly afraid lest I should have incurred some indelible disgrace, was delighted to find that Mr. Raab viewed the whole thing as a joke, and considered me perfectly right in not having confessed to the death of the swan.

"I'll take him into my house," quoth Mr. Raab disinterestedly; and thus it happened that I changed my tutor.

Mr. Raab's house was the easiest, pleasantest, and most carelessly managed of all the houses in Holyshade, and his boys were the readiest, smartest, laziest, larkiest, and merriest of all the boys in that great school. We all liked him as no other set of boys liked their tutor. We did not reverence him in the least. He was outspoken, bluff, bold, and intolerant of affectation in any shape, but especially clerical affectation. He was hot-headed, and quick tempered; of a mercurial disposition. He was fond of giving his pupils an occasional treat, on which no one save himself would have ventured. He had an absurd nickname for every boy in the house, and for a great many out of it. He was partial to theatrical entertainments in any form, from the solemnities of the Greeks down to the frivolities of the Londoners in his own time; and whenever the little theatre of the neighbouring town was opened for a short season, he would make a point of taking us to see the performance, and treating us, on our return, to supper in his dining-room. On these occasions he invariably went behind

the scenes, and gave any children, who might be playing, a kindly pat on the head, and sixpence for their pockets.

On the second evening of one of these seasons, Mr. Raab took us to see-I forget exactly what piece, but I fancy it was called The Field of Forty Footsteps. The two Biffords were of our party, and quarrelled for a bill, which, on its falling between them, I picked up, and, to my surprise, read that the two principal characters were to be played by Miss Carlotta Verney, and Miss Lucrezia Verney.

For the moment I was puzzled by the latter name, having forgotten that Julie possessed two. But the play had scarcely begun, when I recognized her, though she did not appear to have seen

me.

Both the sisters were looking remarkably handsome, and I actually began to boast of my acquaintance with this couple of charming young actresses. Not being afraid of confiding this to Mr. Raab, he promised me that I should accompany him after the first act behind the scenes. I noticed that Carlotta's eyes were fixed for the greater part of the time on the private box at the side, where sat three officers, with whose faces I was perfectly familiar, as they were old Holyshadians, though very young officers, having recently joined, and were frequently mixed up in our cricket matches and boat races. I could not avoid following the direction of Carlotta's eyes, and I found that they invariably rested upon a handsome, brown-complexioned man, with very small features, bright eyes, and dark, crisp, curly hair, who seemed to be watching the performance intensely, as he never once, as long as Carlotta was on, took his eyes off the stage. He did not talk much to his companions, and, on the fall of the curtain, he rose at the same moment as Mr. Raab and myself. When we came on the stage, we found him engaged in conversation with Carlotta, who was beaming with pleasure at his marked attention, and my tutor saluted him briskly by a name that seemed to me like Mr. Herby. It turned out that this had

IN public scholastic life the Holyshaders were divided into Forms. In private life the Holyshaders had divided themselves into Sets. Being at Raab's, and being an independent boy of fortune, my lot was cast in a fast set, whose ranks were recruited from all the other sets. It was especially fast by reason of its being a monied set. Its chiefs were, in my time, at Raab's, where, as I have already shown, we enjoyed more liberty than fell to the share of any other house in the College. We played cards in our rooms, and during our school-time held an imitation Crockford's at The Chichester Inn, where also we had breakfast and dinner parties, the former, on Sundays, being remarkable for a profusion of grilled chickens, boiled ham, and poached eggs, when what was, in the school slang of my time, known as "hot sock" was forbidden in our own rooms.

We had among us the best "Wet bobs," as the boys were termed who were addicted to amusing themselves with "Aquatics," and the foremost "Dry bobs" of the cricketers. We were a fortune to Mrs. Frizley, the stout proprietress of a small cigar-shop, where there was a 66 I counter attraction" in her florid and far from ill-looking niece who served the youthful customers. Bifford major, who, though neither a wet nor dry bob, was a noted billiard player, had been for some time "one of us," before my admission into the select circle, and with him and his invariable antagonist at the game, little Lord Pilchard, who