omebody to keep him steady, have a good influence and all that,
and give him a little classics and so on for about an hour a day."

It did not sound as bad as I expected.

"Rich people--um--merchants at Bristol, I think. Not very cultivated,
though." Here President pauses again, and looks as if he would not be
at all astonished if I rose from my chair, put on my hat, and said,
"Not very cultivated! That won't suit _me_! You see how tremendously
cultivated _I_ am." But I don't, and he proceeds calmly to another
head of his discourse.

"They haven't mentioned terms, but I'm sure they will be
satisfactory--give you what you ask, in fact." (Rather a nice trait
in their character, this.)--"Now, will you--um--take it? They want
somebody at once."

"Yes," I reply; "I'll go and see how I fancy it. Have they got a
billiard-table, do you happen to know?"

The President says, "he doesn't know anything about _that_," and looks
a little surprised, as if I had proposed a game of skittles.

On way down (next day) I feel rather like a Governess going to her
first situation. Get to house late. Too dark to see what it's like.
Have to drive up in a village fly. _Query_--Oughtn't they to have sent
their carriage for me?

My reception is peculiar. A stout, masculine-looking female with a
strident voice, is presumably Mrs. BRISTOL MERCHANT.

Sends me up to my bed-room as if I were my own luggage. Evidently very
"uncultivated."

In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium,
apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a lot
of them there must be!

There are! At supper--they appear to have early dinners, which I
detest--three boys and one girl present, as a sample. Eldest a youth
about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he thinks I'm not
looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to make them cry,
which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil will appear.

Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional.
_Query--infra dig_. again?

Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at meals, say
nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at Materfamilias catching
hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him round to me, with the
remark,--

"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."

Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be his
"companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for inspection,
has the audacity to stretch out his