always indelible: there was a frankness and sincerity in
his manner, and an archness and vivacity in his countenance and
conversation, that imperceptibly attached me to the young stranger. We
were soon the most inseparable cons,{1} the depositors of each other's
youthful secrets, and the mutual participators in every passing sport
and pleasure.

Naturally cheerful, Bernard became highly popular with our miniature
world; there was however one subject which, whenever it was incautiously
started by his companions, always excited a flood of tears, and for a
time spread a gloomy abstraction over his mind. Bernard had from his
very infancy been launched into the ocean of life without a knowledge of
his admiral{2} but not without experiencing all that a mother's fondness
could supply: when others recapitulated the enjoyments of their paternal
home, and painted with all the glow of youthful ardour the anticipated
pleasures of the holidays, the tear would trickle down his crimsoned
cheek; and quickly stealing away to some sequestered spot, his throbbing
bosom was relieved by many a flood of woe. That some protecting spirit
watched over his actions, and directed his course, he was well assured,
but as yet he had never been able to comprehend the mystery with which
he was surrounded. His questions on this point to his mother it was
evident gave her pain, and were always met by some evasive answer. He
had been early taught to keep his own secret, but the prying curiosity
of an Eton school-boy was not easily satisfied, and too often rendered
the task one of great pain and difficulty. On these occasions I would
seek

1 Friends.

2 The Eton phrase for father.

~27~~
him out, and as the subject was one of too tender a nature for the
tongue of friendship to dwell upon, endeavour to divert his thoughts by
engaging him in some enlivening sport. His amiable manners and generous
heart had endeared him to all, and in a short time his delicate feelings
were respected, and the slightest allusion to ambiguity of birth
cautiously avoided by all his associates, who, whatever might be their
suspicions, thought his brilliant qualifications more than compensated
for any want of ancestral distinction.

The following portrait of my friend is from the pen of our elegant con,
Horace Eglantine.

A PORTRAIT.

A heart fill'd with friendship and love,
A brain free from passion's excess,
A mind a mean action above,