l that
time, it will be out of my power to call you friend. I shall be
obliged for an answer as soon as it is convenient; till then

I remain yours,

----

"I cannot say your friend."

Endorsed on this letter, in the handwriting of Lord Byron, is the
following:--

"This and another letter were written at Harrow, by my _then_, and I hope
_ever_, beloved friend, Lord ----, when we were both school-boys, and sent
to my study in consequence of some childish misunderstanding,--the only
one which ever arose between us. It was of short duration, and I retain
this note solely for the purpose of submitting it to his perusal, that we
may smile over the recollection of the insignificance of our first and
last quarrel.

"BYRON."

In a letter, dated two years afterwards, from the same boy,[33] there
occurs the following characteristic trait:--"I think, by your last
letter, that you are very much piqued with most of your friends; and,
if I am not much mistaken, you are a little piqued with me. In one
part you say, 'There is little or no doubt a few years, or months,
will render us as politely indifferent to each other as if we had
never passed a portion of our time together.' Indeed, Byron, you wrong
me, and I have no doubt--at least, I hope--you wrong yourself."

As that propensity to self-delineation, which so strongly pervades his
maturer works is, to the full, as predominant in his early
productions, there needs no better record of his mode of life, as a
school-boy, than what these fondly circumstantial effusions supply.
Thus the sports he delighted and excelled in are enumerated:--

"Yet when confinement's lingering hour was done,
Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:
Together we impell'd the flying ball,

* * * * *

Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,
Or shared the produce of the river's spoil;
Or, plunging from the green, declining shore,
Our pliant limbs the buoyant waters bore;
In every element, unchanged, the same,
All, all that brothers should be, but the name."

The danger which he incurred in a fight with some of the neighbouring
farmers--an event well remembered by some of his school-fellows--is
thus commemorated.--

"Still I remember, in the factious strife,
The rustic's musket aim'd against my life;
High poised in air the massy weapon hung,
A cry of horror burst from every tongue:
Whilst I, in