united under the table, and the tie was
not to be broken without overthrow to the superior powers. These, and
various other little sportive machinations wherewith Paul was wont to
relieve the monotony of literature, went far to disgust the learned
critic with his undertaking. But "the tape" and the treasury of Mrs.
Lobkins re-smoothed, as it were, the irritated bristles of his mind, and
he continued his labours with this philosophical reflection: "Why fret
myself? If a pupil turns out well, it is clearly to the credit of his
master; if not, to the disadvantage of himself." Of course, a similar
suggestion never forced itself into the mind of Dr. Keate [A celebrated
principal of Eton]. At Eton the very soul of the honest headmaster is
consumed by his zeal for the welfare of the little gentlemen in stiff
cravats.

But to Paul, who was predestined to enjoy a certain quantum of
knowledge, circumstances happened, in the commencement of the second
year of his pupilage, which prodigiously accelerated the progress of his
scholastic career.

At the apartment of MacGrawler, Paul one morning encountered Mr.
Augustus Tomlinson, a young man of great promise, who pursued the
peaceful occupation of chronicling in a leading newspaper "Horrid
Murders," "Enormous Melons," and "Remarkable Circumstances." This
gentleman, having the advantage of some years' seniority over Paul,
was slow in unbending his dignity; but observing at last the eager
and respectful attention with which the stripling listened to a most
veracious detail of five men being inhumanly murdered in Canterbury
Cathedral by the Reverend Zedekiah Fooks Barnacle, he was touched by the
impression he had created, and shaking Paul graciously by the hand, he
told him there was a deal of natural shrewdness in his countenance, and
that Mr. Augustus Tomlinson did not doubt but that he (Paul) might have
the honour to be murdered himself one of these days. "You understand
me," continued Mr. Augustus,--"I mean murdered in effigy,--assassinated
in type,--while you yourself, unconscious of the circumstance, are
quietly enjoying what you imagine to be your existence. We never kill
common persons,--to say truth, our chief spite is against the Church; we
destroy bishops by wholesale. Sometimes, indeed, we knock off a leading
barrister or so, and express the anguish of the junior counsel at a loss
so destructive to their interests. But that is only a stray hit, and the
slain barrister often