s with drink. It was not a cheerful picture that which
George gave of his two months at home. "The birthright is mine, Harry,"
he said, "but thou art the favourite, and God help me! I think my mother
almost grudges it to me. Why should I have taken the pas, and preceded
your worship into the world? Had you been the eider, you would have had
the best cellar, and ridden the best nag, and been the most popular
man in the country, whereas I have not a word to say for myself, and
frighten people by my glum face: I should have been second son, and set
up as lawyer, or come to England and got my degrees, and turned parson,
and said grace at your honour's table. The time is out of joint, sir. O
cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!"

"Why, Georgy, you are talking verses, I protest you are!" says Harry.

"I think, my dear, some one else talked those verses before me," says
George, with a smile.

"It's out of one of your books. You know every book that ever was wrote,
that I do believe!" cries Harry, and then told his brother how he had
seen the two authors at Tunbridge, and how he had taken off his hat to
them. "Not that I cared much about their books, not being clever enough.
But I remembered how my dear old George used to speak of 'em," says
Harry, with a choke in his voice, "and that's why I liked to see them. I
say, dear, it's like a dream seeing you over again. Think of that bloody
Indian with his knife at my George's head! I should like to give that
Monsieur de Florac something for saving you--but I haven't got much now,
only my little gold knee-buckles, and they ain't worth two guineas."

"You have got the half of what I have, child, and we'll divide as soon
as I have paid the Frenchman," George said.

On which Harry broke out not merely into blessings but actual
imprecations, indicating his intense love and satisfaction; and he swore
that there never was such a brother in the world as his brother George.
Indeed, for some days after his brother's arrival his eyes followed
George about: he would lay down his knife and fork, or his newspaper,
when they were sitting together, and begin to laugh to himself. When he
walked with George on the Mall or in Hyde Park, he would gaze round at
the company, as much as to say, "Look here, gentlemen! This is he.
This is my brother, that was dead and is alive again! Can any man in
Christendom produce such a brother as this?"

Of course he was of opinion that George shou