on the subject or the
examiners. It is a dangerous thing to set up as a humourist in practical
life,--especially public life. They say Mr. Pitt had naturally a great
deal of wit and humour, but he wisely suppressed any evidence of those
qualities in his Parliamentary speeches. Just like Chillingly, to turn
into ridicule the important event of festivities in honour of his coming
of age,--an occasion that can never occur again in the whole course of
his life."

"It was bad taste," said Cecilia, "if intentional. But perhaps he was
misunderstood, or taken by surprise."

"Misunderstood,--possibly; but taken by surprise,--no. The coolest
fellow I ever met. Not that I have met him very often. Latterly, indeed,
at Cambridge he lived much alone. It was said that he read hard. I doubt
that; for my rooms were just over his, and I know that he was much
more frequently out of doors than in. He rambled a good deal about the
country on foot. I have seen him in by-lanes a dozen miles distant from
the town when I have been riding back from the bunt. He was fond of the
water, and pulled a mighty strong oar, but declined to belong to our
University crew; yet if ever there was a fight between undergraduates
and bargemen, he was sure to be in the midst of it. Yes, a very great
oddity indeed, full of contradictions, for a milder, quieter fellow in
general intercourse you could not see; and as for the jests of which
he was accused in his examination papers, his very face should
have acquitted him of the charge before any impartial jury of his
countrymen."

"You sketch quite an interesting picture of him," said Cecilia. "I wish
we did know him: he would be worth seeing."

"And, once seen, you would not easily forget him,--a dark, handsome
face, with large melancholy eyes, and with one of those spare slender
figures which enable a man to disguise his strength, as a fraudulent
billiard-player disguises his play."

The dance had ceased during this conversation, and the speakers were now
walking slowly to and fro the lawn amid the general crowd.

"How well your father plays the part of host to these rural folks!" said
George, with a secret envy. "Do observe how quietly he puts that shy
young farmer at his ease, and now how kindly he deposits that lame old
lady on the bench, and places the stool under her feet. What a canvasser
he would be! and how young he still looks, and how monstrous handsome!"

This last compliment was uttered as Trave