arisen between ther Puggy invariably gave him when affairs were becoming desperate. Then Fatty, doubled up like a Punch doll, would fall, protesting, with his latest and shortest breath, against foul play, whereat the ring would interfere. Then, in consequence of a difference of opinion having arisen Puggy and one of the interposing bystanders, it became the younger brother's turn to have a fresh encounter on his hands, when he, after some few feints and guards, invariably succumbed, and spent the remainder of his play-hours in tears and abuse of his brother. Fatty was never known to speak well of Puggy, and Puggy never had a good word for his brother. Fatty would confide to the boys that there was no such sneak as Puggy, and Puggy would confidently assert that there never was such a cowardly bully as that Fatty. Yet their attachment to each other was, strange to say, firm and sincere, and has so remained through life. In their conflicts at school, hair-pulling came to be considered quite as one of the fine arts, while throttling and kicking were managed with so great a dexterity, as, in more sporting times, would have elevated their performance to the rank of a science. Blows were seldom exchanged, except the one already mentioned. Nobody having authority ever interfered between them, except on two occasions, when I remember Mrs. Carter suddenly rushing in, having been at the keyhole for some minutes previously, and seizing them both by the hair, which she tugged impartially until they yelled again, she banged their heads together and took them off to be caned on the spot and a very sore spot it must have been for a long time afterwards. This is the only instance within my knowledge of a satisfactory issue of an uncalled-for interference by a third party in the quarrels of relations. settled down into the ways of the place before he was somehow or other sent about his business; generally, it was believed, through Mrs. Carter's instrumentality. It was a tradition at old Carter's that the second usher never stopped more than one half: if he did, he'd stay two years. When I first came, this post was occupied by a Mr. Daw, a little man with a large head, who ate garlic privately and smelt of it publicly. On wet afternoons he used to sing to us some rollicking songs with strangely worded choruses. Mrs. Carter came in during one of these performances, and as his music did not possess charms sufficient to calm her savage breast, he received notice and left. To his professorial chair succeeded a Mr. Venn. He was an unwholesomelooking man, whose complexion reminded me of a frog's back. His restless eyes, peering out of deep recesses, moved quickly and suspiciously, as though he were perpetually on the alert for the appearance of somebody from some unexpected quarter. I remember in the story of the fisherman and the genii how in the king's palace the wall suddenly opened and a Moor stepped out, much to the consternation of the fisherman. Had our second usher been the fisherman, he would have been ready for him and waiting. The way in which he would play with the ruler seemed to suggest the defensive, and he always dived down behind the lid of his desk, and brought up his head again to look right and left sharply, much after the manner of a thrush on a lawn, fearful of being surprised in his worming operations. In the place of eyebrows he had two irritable-looking red lines, with stumps of hair dotted about, as though they alone had been spared in a severe visitation of pumicestone. His nose was trowel-shapedthat is, it fitted in a very broad and flat manner on to the cheeks, and tapered away to not too fine a point. His mouth was large; but he generally kept it shut, scarcely opening it to speak. He Our second usher, as a rule, had scarcely had no more smile on his face than has As for the ushers, the senior was seldom with us in play-hours, having his own amusements and lodgings in the country town of Bromfield, within five minutes' walk of our school-house. a man, with a strong sense of humour, suffering from sea-sickness. Easy-going, lounging Mr. Crosbie, M.A., the senior, who affected a sporting costume, and kept two dogs of doubtful breed (which curled their tails downwards when interviewed by other dogs, and pretended never to see any cat that happened to be quite close to them), was afraid of him, and in his presence was on his best behaviour. Old Carter spoke of Mr. Venn as a gentleman with the highest recommendations from the most learned, reverend, and respectable authorities. He trumpeted him before he arrived. After his arrival, old Carter saw less of the schoolroom than heretofore, and at dinner Mrs. Carter was far more civil to Mr. Venn than ever she had been to Mr. Crosbie. All the boys remarked the change, and wondered. Percival Floyd was soon on as friendly a footing as one ever could be with Mr. Venn; and Harker, being ignored, was left to Crosbie, who, it was whispered, knew Harker at home, and having actually stopped at Harker's mill, was, for reasons of his own, very lenient with his young friend over Horace and Homer. One hot summer's day the boys were in the feld playing cricket-a game which I never could summon up sufficient nerve to play. So much danger and so much trouble for nothing, seemed to me to be associated with this amusement, that I and the only other boy who shared my feelings on the subject, Austin Comberwood, were accustomed to retire to a distant part of the field, where he would tell me the stories of Scott's novels, wherein, as was natural, I was mightily interested; and were he compelled to leave off at a thrilling point of interest, I used to look forward with pleasure to the night-time, when, as we lay in our little room (we were the only two sleeping there), it would be "continued in our next" by him. While he was recounting "Ivanhoe" to nie, Mr. Venn came up, and sent Austin with a message across the field. Then he turned to me, and, knitting the red marks which did duty for brows, asked Ah," he returned, "I don't mean that. Didn't you once live there?" "No, sir." It suddenly occurred to me that I might have been born there. I shouldn't have been sorry to prove this to my schoolfellows, as all the other boys had been born, they said, in the country; and they used to call me a cockney-a term I detested, implying, as it seemed to me, an ignorance of such matters as riding, hunting, shooting, and fishing, with which my companions, one and all, professed themselves familiar. Their derision was all the more galling on account of its being caused by what was simply the truth, and nothing but the truth. I knew no more of fishing, or indeed of any field sports, than I did of astronomy; and, as may be imagined, I was not much of a Newton at this period of my life. Not that I wish to infer that I have since attained any eminence in the science of the stars. No such high flights I have left to Dædalian individuals. For myself, I am content to leave the solar system alone. It has worked remarkably well for some considerable time without any interference on my part, and I am not ambitious of being a Phaethon, and getting the calendar into a muddle. I will accept alterations peaceably, but will not originate them. Make old Mayday in December, and put Christmas-day in July, I shall not complain, but will celebrate the one with port and filberts, and the other with iced plum-pudding and cold mince-pies. However, to come back to Shrewsbury, whence we started. The notion of its having been my birth-place, with its logical train of consequences, commencing with the certainty that I could no longer be upbraided with cockneyism-this notion, I say, seemed to me so brilliant, that I couldn't help suggesting to Mr. Venn that it was not impossible that I might have been born there. "H'm," he said presently, after a pause, "you don't take after your mother." I had always been told I was very like her, and I said so, adding, "I'm not like my father, sir"-of which distinction I was not a little proud; because, to my imagination, my mother had been the loveliest creature ever seen. He seemed to consider the proposition as one deserving his best attention. Presently he inquired— 66 She does not come down to see you here?" The question was so extraordinary, that I stared up at him with all my might. Come down here to visit me, I thought; and wished that it could be so, that I might see and love her. He had unwittingly struck a chord in my heart of infinite sweet melody. My mother seemed to me too sacred for him to mention; and as the tears welled up, and the green fields and landscape became obscured by the mist that filled my eyes, I replied "She is dead, sir." "Dead," he repeated, softly, as if much shocked; "I did not know this, or I should not have mentioned the subject." The excuse sounded awkward, but kindly, and at that moment, in spite of my grief, I felt myself of considerable importance. I could not, had I been then asked, have put the reason into words, but I suppose that my personal vanity was flattered by having received a sort of apology from an authority so formidable as Mr. Venn. Being in this humour, I was quite willing to talk about myself and domestic matters. He smiled when, becoming confidential, I described Mr. Verney; and I thought he really must have known him, but he said that he did not; and he appeared considerably interested when I, wishing to impress upon him clearly the marked distinction between my Aunt Clym and my Aunt Susan, was forced to point out, as something to be remembered, that Aunt Susan was my mother's sister, and my Grandmanıma Pritchard was my mother's mamma. "Pritchard?" he asked, in a tone that implied a doubt of my veracity. I assured him that it was so, and he seemed as puzzled as Fatty Bifford when thinking of the answer to a question in Proportion. Then he said— "Have you ever heard the name of Wingrove?" I had some idea that he was laughing at me, but I saw by his face and manner that he was quite serious. I seemed to have heard the name of Wingrove, but somehow, if at all, in connection with the Verneys. The longer I thought, the more sure I became that I never had heard it before. "Then," he said, with his peculiarly ill-favoured smile, "then, when you see your father, ask him if he knows the name of Wingrove ;" and as we looked at one another I laughed timidly, not being quite sure whether it was said in joke or earnest, and being uncertain as to how he might take it if I were any of Sir Walter Scott's novels (which put the matter in a new light to me), unless it might be, he surmised, in one of the books that he hadn't yet read. This led to a discussion as to the number of books he had read; and just as he was commencing where he had left off, about the Black Knight (who he was going to be I couldn't make out), we were summoned into school. I thought of Wingrove and the conversation with Mr. Venn, once or twice afterwards, but it very soon ceased to interest me having no chance against Ivanhoe, as narrated in the dark, at bedtime, by Comberwood-until, later on, a slight incident recalled it to my memory. Mr. Venn's conduct towards me from this time forth was distinguished by so many marks of kindness (he once actually rescued me from old Mother Carter's hands, by moral not physical force) that this portion of my time at this school was, on the whole, very happily spent. It is true I was dubbed "Venn's Favourite," but the boys soon dropped this when they discovered that, on the love-me-love-my-dog principle, to be the friend of Cæsar's friend was to be the friend of Cæsar. The Biffords were the sole exception to this rule. They were too deeply engaged in their own domestic broils to trouble themselves with the affairs of the outer world. They left during my third half, and fought not only up to the last minute, but on the very steps of the fly which was to convey them to the station. The last that was here seen of them (from Carter's dining-room, and looking through the fly window) was Fatty Bifford with both his hands tugging at and twisting Puggy's hair, freshly oiled for going home; while the latter had got hold of his brother's new necktie, and was trying to strangle him before they should reach the station. As we soon after received news of them from Holyshade College, whither they had both preceded me, though the majority of Carter's boys used to go to Harton School, we had the gratification of knowing that their latest squabble had not ended fatally. During my last two school-times I ceased to be Venn's favourite, in fact, as I had long before ceased to be in name. As the circumstances which, I have since learnt, occasioned this change of demeanour have shown themselves to have been fraught with consequences of the deepest importance, not only to myself but to others, I must not now pass lightly over certain events which, trivial as they then seemed, did most undoubtedly mark an epoch in the history of my time. CHAPTER VII. WORKING ROUND OTHER IMPORTANT PERSONAGES ON THE SCENE-AN ILL WIND, AND SOME CONSEQUENCES. ABOUT this time, my father, at the recommendation of his greatest friend and constant adviser, Mr. James Cavander, and in opposition to all that could be urged against the scheme by Aunt Clym-on all occasions Cavander's warm opponent-took and furnished a house in that district of Kensington which a Museum and a National Portrait Gallery have since combined to render famous. Businessin the city-whatever that might mean -had been good; "things" also in the city had been for some time "looking up," and had enabled my father to purchase the long lease of a residence which the auctioneer's advertisement described as both eligible and desirable. Mr. Cavander was probably correct in suggesting it as a good investment. my part I know very little more about such matters now than I did then ; practical experience alone can endow me with such wisdom as is necessary for matters which are, like the prices of Belgravian palaces, too high for me, and as yet that is up to the present time of writing-I have not been able to purchase another house on a similar site. For But this Mr. James Cavandercould I write this history and omit all mention of him, I would. Could I show my love for my enemies by observing silence about them, I would. But it is as impossible to keep James Cavander out of this veracious narrative, as it would be to ignore the devil in the history of Christianity. For you, my friends, who honour our family by perusing this addition to its past history, I have no disguise, no trick; I tell you that at this particular point I introduce my archvillain, so that you may sympathise with me when I, as a boy, first saw him, and intuitively disliked him. Let us be in jackets and turn-down collars again, and let us dislike him together, for the plain and simple reason that we do dislike, and can't tell why. My instinct was right-I can say so now: and for the correctness of first instincts, I will back children and women against all others. It was on returning to Old Carter's that I first encountered Mr. Cavander, and felt as kindly disposed towards him as I have above intimated. He was, so far, my Doctor Fell: the reason why I could not tell; but this I knew, in less than two minutes, and knew full well, that I did not, and never could, like Mr. James Cavander. Undoubtedly a handsome man, with the darkest hair, whiskers, and eyebrows I had as yet seen; and I do not think I have since met his equal in this respect. His eyes were, so to speak, his face; for you got at them and they at you first and foremost. They faced you out, steadfastly. They bothered you like the light of a dark lantern. These eyes further gave you the idea of their being the spies set at the windows to seize on all that might furnish material for the brain within, whose machinery was hard at work all day, and far into the night, until the watchers should succumb to drowsiness, and the busy thoughts should hie to their playground in the land of dreams. Cavander took you in as raw material through his eyes, and turning you over and over, and round and round, easily and pleasantly produced you in the form best adapted to his purpose. Cavander's mental steam hammer could brush the dust off a fly's wing without disturbing it, or could crush a boulder of granite. This latter effort was not to the man's taste, as requiring sudden violence. He would have preferred treating Leviathan as a trout, and bag him by tickling. If you were of no use to him, he forgot you, and it would be fair to say of him generally that he only remembered you for your own disadvantage. Thus, he could forget what was not worth his while to remember, but he never troubled himself to forgive. Do I suppose, looking back at this man, that when by himself he professed undying hatred of any human being? Undoubtedly not: I firmly believe that he considered himself no worse than those among whom he moved, and far better than many whom he heard parading their charitable sentiments. He despised both Pharisee and publican, as canting hypocrites. And, to do him justice, he neither professed too much with the one, nor abased himself abjectly with the other. I have seen his name attached to many a subscription for a good and pious purpose, and I have heard of his kind acts in gifts of money to certain poor people who had proved themselves to be deserving objects of charity. People mostly spoke of him as "a clever fellow," but at the same time they shook their heads knowingly, implying thereby that there are more ways than one of being clever, and that on the whole they'd rather not be called upon to explain precisely their meaning. Such remarks as these my father used to take as complimentary to his own sagacity, for in the city he and Cavander appeared to be inseparable. While I had been growing, Cavander had been becoming a necessary part of my father's business. My shoes were too small for him at present, but he had taken my measure for my boots of the future, which, made for me, he intended to wear himself. Somehow I had never met this gentleman at home. He said he perfectly remembered me as quite a child, and I've no doubt but that he was right. Perhaps his holidays coincided with mine, and so when he went away I arrived. Be this as it may, we met face to face when I was between eleven and twelve, and since |