s way up the school, emulating his great brother.
He fixes his eye on a boy above him in strength or size, and you hear
somehow that a difference has arisen between them at football, and they
have their coats off presently. He has thrashed himself over the heads
of many youths in this manner: for instance, if Champion can lick
Dobson, who can thrash Hobson, how much more, then, can he thrash
Hobson? Thus he works up and establishes his position in the school. Nor
does Mr. Prince think it advisable that we ushers should walk much in
the way when these little differences are being settled, unless there is
some gross disparity, or danger is apprehended.

For instance, I own to having seen this row as I was shaving at my
bedroom window. I did not hasten down to prevent its consequences. Fogle
had confiscated a top, the property of Snivins; the which, as the little
wretch was always pegging it at my toes, I did not regret. Snivins
whimpered; and young Champion came up, lusting for battle. Directly he
made out Fogle, he steered for him, pulling up his coat-sleeves, and
clearing for action.

"Who spoke to YOU, young Champion?" Fogle said, and he flung down the
top to Master Snivins. I knew there would be no fight; and perhaps
Champion, too, was disappointed.

THE GARDEN,

WHERE THE PARLOR-BOARDERS GO.

Noblemen have been rather scarce at Birch's--but the heir of a great
Prince has been living with the Doctor for some years.--He is Lord
George Gaunt's eldest son, the noble Plantagenet Gaunt Gaunt, and nephew
of the Most Honorable the Marquis of Steyne.

They are very proud of him at the Doctor's--and the two Misses and Papa,
whenever a stranger comes down whom they want to dazzle, are pretty sure
to bring Lord Steyne into the conversation, mention the last party at
Gaunt House, and cursorily to remark that they have with them a young
friend who will be, in all human probability, Marquis of Steyne and Earl
of Gaunt, &c.

Plantagenet does not care much about these future honors: provided he
can get some brown sugar on his bread-and-butter, or sit with three
chairs and play at coach-and-horses quite quietly by himself, he is
tolerably happy. He saunters in and out of school when he likes, and
looks at the masters and other boys with a listless grin. He used to be
taken to church, but he laughed and talked in odd places, so they are
forced to leave him at home now. He will sit with a bit of string and
play cat's-cradle