and for long after saw it far away, winding
snake-like among the far-off trees, the great
six-horse wain leading and nodding
gloomily, Dobbyn's white linen flashing
out grotesquely, as though the drivers
were all jackdaws. The rooks made a
prodigious commotion among themselves,
and seemed to know that something
mortuary and congenial was up, as
indeed, the old servants about the place
took pains to remark with much shaking
of the head.

That was a curious morning for me.
The house seemed to be deserted, every
one having gone off. But they all came
back very soon in a sort of rabble rout,
pell-mell, and anyhow. Every one seemed
eager to be off, and I noted there seemed
to be a great weight off the host's mind.
The chariot then came round, but we had
not nearly so pleasant a journey back.

VI. TOM'S FINALE.

AFTER this Tom Butler became more and
more regarded by the family. He was
worth a dozen, said the captain, "of those
fashionable skipjacks, who wouldn't just
crook their little finger to save you from
starving. A dozen—a thousand I should
say." He was always doing some good-
natured and useful service for the ladies.
And he always contrived to succeed, not
being one of those who came back, as the
captain said again, " with their finger in
their mouth." He was so amusing and
such good company. At the same time
stories would come to the family of strange
acts of wildness, debts, bills, and what was
known generally as "scrapes." These he
would unfold at private interviews, from
which I was summarily ordered out. They
lasted for hours, and he submitted to being
gravely lectured, and went away very
grateful and quiet. At our more public
table he was less reserved, and used to
dwell loudly on "that tyrant Baker," "that
Jack of a major, as miserable a little cur
as ever put on uniform." He was again
gently reproved and remonstrated with, yet
in a sort of good-humoured toleration, as
though the right were still on his side. He
should restrain himself, it was for his
interest, &c. But if we only knew what
"a beast" that Baker was, what a low,
overbearing, mean cub, that officers and
men both hated, the very horses would
have a kick at him if he gave them a
chance. And who was he, after all, to be
taking airs over gentlemen? Why, would
we believe it, his father is an oil and pickle
fellow in the city, sells over the very
counter! A nice chap to be set over gentlemen!
The colonel is a gentleman, but he
is nothing but a shopman. I doubt if these
doctrines would be approved of coming
from any other lips.

One day, however, comes the noble Tom
with a proposal of the most startling and
even dazzling nature. I must come and
dine with him: see what the mess was like.
This extraordinary proposal seemed really
absurd, as wild and daring as going off to
Australia in a clipper ship, and coming
from another would have convulsed the
house; but the brave Tom had the art of
importing an air of easy feasibility to all
his schemes. The gallant fellow could do
what he liked. He would take care of me,
send me home in a cab with his orderly
sergeant, or come himself. There was but
faint opposition. It was time, indeed, that
the boy should begin to see something of
men, it would rub him up a bit, and show
him life. I had no objection, it may be
well conceived. A sumptuous banquet,
that involved rare wines and dishes, was
what had not yet entered into the economy
of my life. I had read of such things in
the Scriptures, and in Roman history. The
high-spirited Tom said that the enjoyment
of the evening would be more unshackled, as
"the oil and pickle fellow" would be away.
"Gone to the shop," he supposed, and he
was to be senior officer of the evening.

It was an exciting day. Dinner, habitually
for me at five, was on this occasion at eight.
Dressing, as usual, was a laborious and
even painful operation, but I bore those
vestiary tortures cheerfully. The hour at
last arrived, and, carefully admonished to
keep a guard over myself as though all my
eternal interests were at stake, as though I
was habitually given to excess both in eating
and drinking, and could not be trusted
in sight of those dangerous seductions without
falling, I was driven away in a cab.

Not without awe and nervousness did
we turn into the archway of the barrack.
It was the first time, also, I had been sent
into the world, as the high-spirited Tom
would say, "on my own hook." That hook
I felt gradually bending away out of all
shape under me, or in me. The soldier at
the gate rose on his toes, looked in at me a
little suspiciously, and said something to
the cabman. The row of lights in the mess-
room windows quite awed me, so did the
lounging soldiers at the door. But the
noble and gallant Tom, with careful
forethought, was there to receive me, and led