is it that contains essence of Bark? Tripley's or
Chipley's, I think. Find it out for me, and send me a packet through the
office; put up Fauchard's pamphlet with it, on Spain, and a small box
of those new blisters,--Mouches they are called; they are to be had at
Atkinson's. I have got so accustomed to their stimulating power that I
never write without one or two on my forehead. They tell me the cautery,
if dexterously applied, is better; but I have not tried it.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE TUTOR AND HIS PUPIL

We are not about to follow up the correspondence of Sir Horace by
detailing the reply which Harcourt sent, and all that thereupon ensued
between them.

We pass over, then, some months of time, and arrive at the late autumn.

It is a calm, still morning; the sea, streaked with tinted shadows,
is without a ripple; the ships of many nations that float on it are
motionless, their white sails hung out to bleach, their ensigns drooping
beside the masts. Over the summit of Vesuvius--for we are at Naples--a
light blue cloud hangs, the solitary one in all the sky. A mild,
plaintive song, the chant of some fishermen on the rocks, is the only
sound, save the continuous hum of that vast city, which swells and falls
at intervals.

Close beside the sea, seated on a rock, are two figures. One is that
of a youth of some eighteen or nineteen years; his features, eminently
handsome, wear an expression of gloomy pride as in deep preoccupation
he gazes out over the bay; to all seeming, indifferent to the fair scene
before him, and wrapped in his own sad thoughts. The other is a short,
square-built, almost uncouth figure, overshadowed by a wide straw hat,
which seems even to diminish his stature; a suit of black, wide
and ample enough for one twice his size, gives his appearance a
grotesqueness to which his features contribute their share.

It is, indeed, a strange physiognomy, to which Celt and Calmuc seem
equally to contribute. The low, overhanging forehead, the intensely keen
eye, sparkling with an almost imp-like drollery, are contrasted by
a firmly compressed mouth and a far-projecting under-jaw that imply
sternness even to cruelty; a mass of waving black hair, that covers neck
and shoulders, adds a species of savagery to a head which assuredly
has no need of such aid. Bent down over a large quarto volume, he never
lifts his eyes; but, intently occupied, his lips are rapidly repeating
the words as he reads them.

"Do you mea