emselves; grammars, lexicons, and other like "Amenities of
Literature," being the things that came to hand most readily. Scarcely
had I contrived to discover a wearable suit when I was informed that
dinner was on the table; so, hastily tumbling into my clothes, and
giving a final peep at the facetious looking-glass, the result of which
was to twist the bow of my Byron tie under my left ear, in the belief
that I was thereby putting it straight, I rushed downstairs, just
in time to see the back of the hindmost pupil disappear through the
dining-room door.

"Better late than never, Fairlegh. Mrs. Mildman, this is Fairlegh;
he can sit by you, Coleman;-'For what we are going to receive,'
etc.;--Thomas, the carving-knife."

Such was the address with which my tutor greeted my entrance, and,
during its progress, I popped into a seat indicated by a sort of half
wink from Thomas, resisting by a powerful act of self-control a sudden
impulse which seized me to bolt out of the room, and do something rash
but indefinite, between going to sea and taking prussic acid; not quite
either, but partaking of the nature of both. "Take soup, Fairlegh?" said
Dr. Mildman. "Thank you, sir, if you please."

"A pleasant journey, had you?" inquired Mrs. Mildman.

"Not any, I am much obliged to you," I replied, thinking of the fish.

This produced a total silence, during which the pupils ~7~~exchanged
glances, and Thomas concealed an illicit smile behind the bread-basket.

"Does your father," began Dr. Mildman in a very grave and deliberate
manner, "does your father shoot?--boiled mutton, my dear?"

I replied that he had given it up of late years, as the fatigue was too
much for him.

"Oh! I was very fond of carrying a gun-pepper-when I was-a spoon-at
Oxford; I could hit a-mashed potato-bird as well as most men; yes, I was
very sorry to give up my double-barrel-ale, Thomas."

"You came inside, I believe?" questioned Mrs. Mildman, a lady possessing
a shadowy outline, indistinct features faintly characterised by an
indefinite expression, long ringlets of an almost impossible shade
of whity-brown, and a complexion and general appearance only to be
described by the term "washed out".

"Yes, all the way, ma'am."

"Did you not dislike it very much? it creases one's gown so, unless it
is a merino or mousseline-de-laine; but one can't always wear them, you
know."

Not being in the least prepared with a suitable answer, I merely made
what I int