ince I have been in it, and
you set me to making observations on what I saw before I was thirteen.
And then, too, if one is reading books about real life, at the very time
one is mixing in it, it is astonishing how naturally one remarks and how
well one remembers."

"Especially if one has a genius for it,--eh, boy? And then too, you have
read my play; turned Horace's Satires into a lampoon upon the boys at
school; been regularly to assizes during the vacation; attended the
county balls, and been a most premature male coquette with the ladies.
Ods fish, boy! it is quite curious to see how the young sparks of the
present day get on with their lovemaking."

"Especially if one has a genius for it,--eh, sir?" said I.

"Besides, too," said my uncle, ironically, "you have had the Abbe's
instructions."

"Ay, and if the priests would communicate to their pupils their
experience in frailty, as well as in virtue, how wise they would make
us!"

"Ods fish! Morton, you are quite oracular. How got you that fancy of
priests?--by observation in life already?"

"No, Uncle: by observation in plays, which you tell me are the mirrors
of life; you remember what Lee says,--

"''Tis thought
That earth is more obliged to priests for bodies
Than Heaven for souls.'"

And my uncle laughed, and called me a smart fellow.

CHAPTER XII.

THE ABBE'S RETURN.--A SWORD, AND A SOLILOQUY.

THE next evening, when I was sitting alone in my room, the Abbe
Montreuil suddenly entered. "Ah, is it you? welcome!" cried I. The
priest held out his arms, and embraced me in the most paternal manner.

"It is your friend," said he, "returned at last to bless and
congratulate you. Behold my success in your service," and the Abbe
produced a long leather case richly inlaid with gold.

"Faith, Abbe," said I, "am I to understand that this is a present for
your eldest pupil?"

"You are," said Montreuil, opening the case, and producing a sword. The
light fell upon the hilt, and I drew back, dazzled with its lustre; it
was covered with stones, apparently of the most costly value. Attached
to the hilt was a label of purple velvet, on which, in letters of gold,
was inscribed, "To the son of Marshal Devereux, the soldier of France,
and the friend of Louis XIV."

Before I recovered my surprise at this sight, the Abbe said: "It
was from the King's own hand that I received this sword, and I have
authority to inform you that if ever you wield it in