ly
he is of a good family, and of a competence which both differs from
and resembles his general character in being possessed at once of the
attributes of modesty and assurance. From an early age he will have
been noted for the qualities which in after-life render him humbly
celebrated in subordinate positions. At school he will have had
the good fortune to be attached as fag to a big boy who occupied an
important place as an athlete, and whose condescending smiles were
naturally an object of greater ambition to the small fry than the
approval of the school authorities. For him he performed with much
assiduity the various duties of a fag, happy to shine amongst his
companions as the recipient of the great boy's favours. To play the
jackal without incurring universal dislike is (at school) no very
easy task, but he accomplishes it with discretion and with a natural
aptitude that many maturer jackals might envy.

[Illustration]

At the age of seventeen he is withdrawn from school. His own
marked disinclination saves him from a military career, and he is
subsequently sent to pass a year or two upon the Continent of Europe,
in order that he may first of all pass the examination for the
Diplomatic Service, and subsequently foil foreign statesmen with their
own weapons, and in their own language. Returning, he secures his
nomination, and faces the Examiners. Providence, however, reserves him
for lower things. The Examiners triumph, and the career of the Servant
of Society begins in earnest. The position of his parents secures for
him an entrance into good houses. He is a young man of great tact and
of small accomplishments. He can warble a song, aid a great lady to
organise a social festivity, lead a cotillon, order a dinner, and help
to eat it, act in amateur theatricals, and recommend French novels to
inquiring matrons. His manners are always easy, and his conversation
has that spice of freedom which renders it specially acceptable in
the boudoirs of the smart. The experience of a few years makes plain
to him that, in social matters, the serious person goes down before
the trifler. He therefore cultivates flippancy as a fine art, and
becomes noted for a certain cheap cynicism, which he sprinkles like a
quasi-intellectual pepper over the strong meat of risky conversation.
Moreover, he is constantly self-satisfied, and self-possessed. Yet
he manages to avoid giving offence by occasionally assuming a gentle
humility of mann