e is a demagogue in embryo, with every quality necessary to a splendid
success in that vocation,--a strong voice, a fluent utterance, an
incessant iteration, and a frontless impudence. He is a great 'scholar'
too, to use the country phrase; his 'piece,' as our village schoolmaster
terms a fine sheet of flourishing writing, something between a valentine
and a sampler, enclosed within a border of little coloured prints--his
last, I remember, was encircled by an engraved history of Moses,
beginning at the finding in the bulrushes, with Pharaoh's daughter
dressed in a rose-coloured gown and blue feathers--his piece is not
only the admiration of the school, but of the parish, and is sent
triumphantly round from house to house at Christmas, to extort halfpence
and sixpences from all encouragers of learning--Montem in miniature.
The Mosaic history was so successful, that the produce enabled Jem to
purchase a bat and ball, which, besides adding to his natural arrogance
(for the little pedant actually began to mutter against being eclipsed
by a dunce, and went so far as to challenge Joe Kirby to a trial in
Practice, or the Rule of Three), gave him, when compared with the
general poverty, a most unnatural preponderance in the cricket state. He
had the ways and means in his hands (for alas! the hard winter had made
sad havoc among the bats, and the best ball was a bad one)--he had the
ways and means, could withhold the supplies, and his party was beginning
to wax strong, when Joe received a present of two bats and a ball for
the youngsters in general and himself in particular--and Jem's adherents
left him on the spot--they ratted, to a man, that very evening.
Notwithstanding this desertion, their forsaken leader has in nothing
relaxed from his pretensions, or his ill-humour. He stills quarrels
and brawls as if he had a faction to back him, and thinks nothing of
contending with both sides, the ins and the outs, secure of out-talking
the whole field. He has been squabbling these ten minutes, and is just
marching off now with his own bat (he has never deigned to use one of
Joe's) in his hand. What an ill-conditioned hobgoblin it is! And yet
there is something bold and sturdy about him too. I should miss Jem
Eusden.

Ah, there is another deserter from the party! my friend the little
hussar--I do not know his name, and call him after his cap and jacket.
He is a very remarkable person, about the age of eight years, the
youngest piece of