of peace with place and weather, confronting no peril,
hardship, laborious need, or discomfort, before this particular
ornamental accomplishment had been indubitably achieved with
satisfaction to my uncle and to myself.

My uncle had, moreover, righteously compelled, with precisely similar
tactics as to the employment of his right hand, an attire in harmony
with the cleanliness of my person. "For what," says he, "have bully
ol' Skipper Chesterfield t' say on that there little p'int? What have
that there fashionable ol' gentleman t' hold--underlined by Sir Harry?
Volume II, page 24. 'A list o' the ornamental accomplishments (without
which no man livin' can either please or rise in the world), which
hitherto I fear ye wants,'" quotes he, most glibly, "'an' which only
require your care an' attention t' possess.' Volume II., page 24.
'_An' perfeckly well dressed, accordin' t' the fashion, be that what
it will._' There you haves it," says he, "an' underlined by Sir Harry
hisself!" 'Twas a boresome thing, to be sure, as a lad of eleven, to
come from boyish occupations to this maidenly concern for appearances:
but now, when I am grown older, 'tis a delight to escape the sweat
and uniform of the day's work; and I am grateful to the broad hand
that scorched my childish parts to teach me the value and pleasures of
gentility.

At the same time, as you may believe, I was taught a manner of
entering, in the way, by the hints of Sir Harry and the philosophy of
the noble Lord Chesterfield, of a gentleman. It had to do with squared
shoulders, the lift of the head, a strut, a proud and contemptuous
glance. Many a night, as a child, when I fair fainted of vacancy and
the steam and smell of salt pork was an agony hardly to be endured, I
must prance in and out, to please my fastidious uncle, while he sat
critical by the fire--in the unspeakable detachment of critics from
the pressing needs (for example) of a man's stomach--and indulged his
artistic perceptions to their completest satisfaction. He would watch
me from his easy-chair by the fire as though 'twere the most
delectable occupation the mind of man might devise: leaning forward in
absorption, his ailing timber comfortably bestowed, his great head
cocked, like a canary-bird's, his little eyes watchful and sparkling.

"Once again, Dannie," says he. "Head throwed higher, lad. An' ye might
use yer chest a bit more."

Into the hall and back again.

"Fair," says he. "I'll not deny t