My brother was neither so tall nor so daring as I; but
he was, nevertheless, exceedingly strong and wiry, and although, being
the older, I was the stronger of the two, I often had difficulty in
proving myself the master. Especially was this seen when we used to
wrestle on the soft, spongy grass that grows on the headland. I could
lift him from the ground and throw him over my head, such was my
advantage in weight and strength. Yet so cunning was he, and so agile,
that he would cling around me, and twine his limbs around mine, so that
I had to be very careful or I should have been disgraced by being
thrown.

Our dispositions, too, were different. I was noisy, boisterous,
passionate and outspoken. Wilfred was quiet and thoughtful. I often
did deeds without thinking; but not so Wilfred; he weighed and
considered both his words and actions. Consequently I was ever getting
into scrapes, but Wilfred seldom or never.

I was my father's favourite. I was a sturdy young dog, he said, just
like the rest of the Trewinion race, and would be an honour to my name.
Wilfred, on the other hand, received but little notice from my father,
but was the darling of my mother's heart. My father saw little or no
fault in me and saw plenty in Wilfred. My mother saw only perfection
in Wilfred and only imperfections in me. This, I am afraid, raised a
barrier between my mother and my father, for which I was then, and am
now, truly sorry.

In spite of these differences I loved Wilfred very much. Was he not my
brother? were we not born in the same room? did not the same mother
suckle us? and did we not both bear the name of Trewinion? Wilfred,
however, did not love me so much. I think it was because he was a
little jealous of me. The jealousy came about in this way.

Maidens love strength and daring; and as I was able to do for my
sisters many thing which Wilfred was unable to do--such as scaling the
cliffs for rare plants, getting precious stones, and so forth--I was
more beloved by them than Wilfred was. Thus, as he saw Katherine and
Elizabeth ever clinging to me, and avoiding him, he would look darkly
at me, and go with his sorrows to our mother, who, in her kindness of
heart, would give him comfort and sometimes indulgences which I do not
think were always good for him.

Still, we were fairly good friends, and sometimes after I had fought a
boy for teasing him, we would be quite happy together.

I am writing these things no