y severe examination; two months before it took place
we went home for a few days. After dinner my uncle asked me to walk with
him in the park. I did so: we strolled along to the margin of a rivulet
which ornamented the grounds. There my uncle, for the first time, broke
silence.

"Morton," said he, looking down at his left leg, "Morton, let me see;
thou art now of a reasonable age,--fourteen at the least."

"Fifteen, if it please you, sir," said I, elevating my stature as much
as I was able.

"Humph! my boy; and a pretty time of life it is, too. Your brother
Gerald is taller than you by two inches."

"But I can beat him for all that, uncle," said I, colouring, and
clenching my fist.

My uncle pulled down his right ruffle. "'Gad so, Morton, you're a brave
fellow," said he; "but I wish you were less of a hero and more of a
scholar. I wish you could beat him in Greek as well as in boxing. I will
tell you what Old Rowley said," and my uncle occupied the next quarter
of an hour with a story. The story opened the good old gentleman's
heart; my laughter opened it still more. "Hark ye, sirrah!" said he,
pausing abruptly, and grasping my hand with a vigorous effort of love
and muscle, "hark ye, sirrah,--I love you,--'Sdeath, I do. I love you
better than both your brothers, and that crab of a priest into the
bargain; but I am grieved to the heart to hear what I do of you. They
tell me you are the idlest boy in the school; that you are always
beating your brother Gerald, and making a scurrilous jest of your mother
or myself."

"Who says so? who dares say so?" said I, with an emphasis that would
have startled a less hearty man than Sir William Devereux. "They lie,
Uncle; by my soul they do. Idle I am; quarrelsome with my brother I
confess myself; but jesting at you or my mother--never--never. No, no;
_you_, too, who have been so kind to me,--the only one who ever was. No,
no; do not think I could be such a wretch:" and as I said this the tears
gushed from my eyes.

My good uncle was exceedingly affected. "Look ye, child," said he, "I do
not believe them. 'Sdeath, not a word; I would repeat to you a good jest
now of Sedley's, 'Gad, I would, but I am really too much moved just at
present. I tell you what, my boy, I tell you what you shall do: there
is a trial coming on at school--eh?--well, the Abbe tells me Gerald is
certain of being first, and you of being last. Now, Morton, you shall
beat your brother, and shame the Jesui