ormation he gave me about himself
was bound to be stale.

"Then you will have one some day," Murray answered, and I imagined that
he looked at me as if in the future we could have a royal time nursing
our dyspepsia together. But I was not going to be a twin dyspeptic
with anybody.

"I hope I have got one now," I returned, "but I am not going on the
roof to shout about it. Every one ought to keep their liver dark, and
then the vile thing wouldn't be a nuisance to every one else."

He only laughed again. I am afraid he had read a lot of medical books
and knew far too much about the colour of things, but I do really
believe that I did him some good, for apart from seeing him put
extraordinary pieces of paper on his tongue and look very concerned
when they revealed whatever secret they have to reveal, he never talked
intimately to me again about his complaints, and as time went on he
laughed at himself, which was very wholesome of him.

Six weeks of the term had passed before I thought of fulfilling the
promise I made to my father, and when the time drew near for me to
speak at our college debating society, if I meant to do so, I became
extremely nervous. There was only one more meeting of the society
during that term, and the subject for debate was, "The modern novel has
a depressing and decaying influence upon the mind of the British
nation." Lambert, who spoke very fluently and not at all to the point,
was booked to speak first at this debate, and any one who knew him
could see his magnificent style in the way the motion was drawn up. He
revelled in alliteration, and I should think that he preferred subjects
which were more general than particular, for he had on one occasion
come hopelessly to grief at a debate on French politics, and had to
hide his confusion by saying that no one could be expected to take an
interest in a Latin nation, which made some people think that he was
more stupid than he really was.

I resolved to support the modern novel, not because I knew much about
it, but because I did not intend to be on the same side as Lambert, and
I went to the Union and listened to a debate in which two men from
Cambridge spoke and one man from London. Speaking seemed to be easy to
these people, but perhaps the presence of the London man--he was very
distinguished--acted as a check to orators who were not quite sure of
themselves. At any rate the distinguished man made a great impression,
he deplored the