what you are about, sir," he said hoarsely to his
eldest ; " you are answering very carelessly."

A short pause and the second round began ;
Alvarez Prosody. Here again I went ahead.
At the close of the poll we stood:

Sidney . . . . . . 15
William . . . . . . 13
Arthur  . . . . . .  12

Mr. Goodman was growing black as night;—
"Come here to me, sir," he called to his eldest
born, " I want to speak to you." He had him
over in the window; by the face of the youth
when he returned—Mr. Goodman affecting to be
interested about a coach-house opposite— it was
rendered evident that a communication of a very
threatening sort had passed. Then we began
again, Virgil this time; the classics were my weak
point, and, as I was to find, the Goodmans strong
one. Almost at once I fell into bogs and quagmires,
with the two enemies indecently eager to
snatch the passage from me. The instant there
was hesitation, they had opened full mouthed, the
words bursting out together. " Ille se jactet
in aulâ," Mr. Blackstone was saying, "reflect,
Sidney, a moment, take time." " Let him throw
it about," I was beginning. The other two
with the words in their mouths, and mistaking a
motion of Mr. Blackstone's face for a signal,
had burst out with "Let him boast away."
Now, to me had occurred this very word:
and as the mark went down for them, with a
flushed face and hostile voice, I roared out:
"It ain't fair; they won't give me time." The
head of our family here made protest gently,
yet under sense of injury, "I do think if
Sidney had more time and were not so flurried—
really' I think that last answer, — he might
have —its scarcely fair."

Mr. Goodman's stick had been dancing up
and down restlessly on our carpet between his
knees. " I don't know, ma'am — you know a
miss is a miss — and if William knows the
answer—-"

Mr. Blackstone was in an awkward position,
but he had a strong sense of duty. "The
answer must go," he said, a little falteringly,
"to William's credit; but in future you must
not answer till I tell you."

We then proceeded with the conflict. I do
not like to linger over the details of the day,
whose anniversary for long afterwards was always
painful. I have to own to being defeated by a
small majority by the elder youth, and to
defeating the younger by a great one—a poor
compensation. The state of the poll was
declared by Mr. Blackstone about four o'clock,
after an interval of miserable suspense, during
which he went over his calculations several
times. Amid breathless silence he read out
the result:

William . . . . . 136
Sidney  . . . . . 120
Arthur   . . . . .   94

Then the cake and wine were served. The
unconcealed manifestations of elation on the
part of the Goodmans were so many stabs to
our family. For the wine or for the cake I
had no stomach. They had, and gobbled and
drank.  There was some admirable acting on
both sides, but from that hour there was a
vendetta between the families. Until they left
the house in triumph, I anticipated the worst.
The instant the sound of the hall-door closing
fell on our ears—they took away Mr. Blackstone
to dine—I surely counted on the arm of
justice being promptly extended, and the
signal given for the lictors to drag me off.
My face was already composing itself to an
expression of defiance and dogged braving
out the worst. I heard a quiet remonstrance:
" I thought you knew your business
you told us so, or you would not have
had this mortification. Well? How do you
account for this?" How could I account for
this? As well account for the tides. Was
this a charge — was there going to be a court-
martial, drum-head, the cat, and the rest of it?
After the mortification of the day, and the bitter
degradation, why put the poor Pariah to the
question? My face was swelling, my lips were
growing negro-like, a general dogged air was
coming on. O the world! I thought. Let me
die, run away, anything but lead this life; and
these thoughts rushing and swelling up tumultuously,
the tears burst out, and I began to roar
and bellow. To my surprise, I was folded in lov-
ing arms; others tears commingled with mine;
a soothing voice comforted me; gentle arms
enfolded the unsuccessful sinner; a kind voice
bade me, in compassionate terms, to be of good
heart, and " not mind it," and " that I should
go to the horsemanship to-morrow night," and
so we commingled our tears. That moment was
the first awakening, the first presence of grace
and reformation.

THE first party I ever attended was a
remarkable festival. It was of humble dimensions,
but it seemed to me then, more glorious
than the most official ball I ever attended since.
It brightened the whole prospect between. It
glorified it into a too limited age of enchantment.
I could talk of nothing else. The tailors
and milliners devoted to my department
of decoration were called in; and I was
even allowed the exercise of my private taste
in the selection of the various adornments.
Indeed, it is only justice to mention that this
indication on my part was held to be a
sign of grace that deserved all encouragement
—a token of civilisation; and orders
went forth that any reasonable wish on my side
should be attended to. It was on this occasion
that the richly braided blue superfine extra
finished jacket came home, adorned with a
velvet collar—my suggestion, or rather indirectly
the unconscious suggestion of the elder
Goodman, my rival and enemy, who could
only " sport" a watered silk one. It was
supported by the blue and silver poplin waistcoat,
long a celebrated article in the family—a
vestiary barometer, as it were, by which the scale of
occasions of distinction, and the rank of festivals,