book of
natural history, which I read with great delight. I found by the book
that the beasts I had seen at Exeter Change were only a very small
number of those which exist in different parts of the world. I liked
that book of natural history better than any I had ever read; except,
perhaps, "Robinson Crusoe," which Tony had lent me, and which he said
was the best book that ever was written. I thus gained a very
considerable knowledge of the quadrupeds and the feathered tribes of the
animal kingdom, and Uncle James said he thought some day I should become
a first-rate naturalist, if I had opportunities of studying the
creatures in their native wild. I resolved the next summer holidays,
which were to be spent in the country, to catch as many of the creatures
as I could, and form a menagerie of my own. I should say I had not told
John of the plan Tony and I had in contemplation--of exploring the
Amazon by ourselves. I thought, from some of his remarks, that he
possibly might not approve of it.

I soon got tired of London, after I had seen the usual sights, though I
was glad to be with my mother and Ellen and my cousins. John also was
very kind, but he was such a big fellow that I stood in as much awe of
him as I did of my uncle. I was not sorry, therefore, to find myself at
school with companions of my own age. As the weather was very cold,
Tony and I agreed that we would put off our expedition till the summer,
and in the meantime we talked of the menagerie I proposed making, and
other subjects of equal importance, which prevented us thinking about
the former matter.

I had a good many friends among my school-fellows. Arthur Mallet, next
to Tony, was my chief friend. He was by several months my junior--a
delicate, gentle boy, amiable, sensible, and clever. He was liked by
the masters as well as by the boys, and that is saying much in his
favour. Poor fellow, notwithstanding this he was frequently out of
spirits. I asked him one day why he looked so sad. He was silent for
some minutes. "I will tell you, Harry," he said at length. "I am
thinking of my mother. She is dying. I know it, for she told me so.
She never deceived me. When she has gone I shall have no one to care
for me--and--and--Harry, I shall have to depend on the charity of
strangers for support. She urged me to work hard, that I might be
independent; but it will be a long time before I can become so. For
myself I do not so much mind, but