telling you. Ridley goes up to London with
the smack to-night, and I go with him."

"And what do you mean to do in London?"

"Oh! never fear. I shall do very well, if
once I get there."

"Ay! ay! " thought I. "You may find
it different to what you expect, Master
Lionel." But I would not say anything to
discourage him.

"I can't refuse you this, of course," said I,
"though it will leave me rather straightened"
(which was true).

"Give me only five, if you can't spare more,"
said my brother, in his offhand way. " I dare
say I shall get some employment before these
are gone."

So I gave him the five pounds, in gold. I
took no acknowledgment from him. I never
thought of asking my own brother for such
a thing, for a trifling sum of five pounds. I
lent them cheerfully, though I never thought
to see them again. Not that Lionel had not
good principles—I will give him his due—
but principles are nothing. Those who can
pay their way do, and take credit to
themselves for their honesty; those who find they
can't are soon content to remain in debt.

"Not a word of this," said my brother.
"I stay to bid no one farewell. As to my
father, I know what he would say. He would
advise me to submit; to go back and ask
pardon, and live on charity again."

"Then," said I, as he was about to leave
me: "if I understand you rightly, you are
determined never to go back?"

"Never, John, never. I am glad that the
breach is so wide between us; though I am
sorry that I should have struck him. He is an
old man, but he exasperated me, and tried to
detain me by force, and my temper was up.

"I know Uncle Beecham," said I. "If you
came to blows, I am afraid it would be, as you
say, of little use to go back. But never say
I advised you to this step; that is all." (I was
particularly careful to say this, for I know
how prone some people are to misrepresent.)

"Good bye, John," said he; "and many
thanks for the money." I grasped his hand
cordially, and he went down the garden and
got aboard a little boat, in charge of a man
who had been waiting for him. This is
exactly what passed between us at this interview.
I have put it all down. My memory
is very good, and I could swear to that. I
don't know what account my brother gave
of it.

I never told any one in our house what had
occurred; but I thought it right, the next
day, to go to Uncle Beecham, just to see if
there was any chance of making peace again
between them. But I soon saw there was
not. My uncle called him "a scoundrel, a
base ungrateful scoundrel (I use his very
words), an idle villain, that would sooner go
out and rob on the highways, than settle
down into an honest profession." I never
saw him so angry before; I was afraid to say
much in Lionel's favour. I knew it would
only irritate him—perhaps make him think
I was in league with him, and that he had
sent me there to sound him. However, I did
say, "I dare say he repents of it, uncle, by
this time. He doesn't know the world.
When he finds how harsh strangers are, he
will think of all your kindness, and return to
ask forgiveness."

"Ask my forgiveness," said my uncle,
rubbing his hands at the fire as if the idea
pleased him. "Yes, I dare say he will."

"I hope you have received no serious injury,
uncle," said I.

"No," replied my uncle, "but he shall
never enter my household again. His place
shall be filled up immediately. That's his
seat by the window. If you would like to
take it, say so!"

"You forget, uncle," said I; "that I could
not possibly leave Cobb and Dawkey's
without a month's notice."

"Very well," said my uncle, "come in a
month. I'll make shift."

"But, uncle," said I; "though, of course,
I am deeply sensible of your kindness, I
shouldn't——"

"Shouldn't what?"

"I shouldn't like to take Lionel's place,
unless I thought I was keeping it open for
him, against a day of reconciliation." (I
particularly remember saying this).

"John," said my uncle, "say whether you
accept my offer, but never mention Lionel's
name, or talk about reconciliation again."

So, of course, I did accept his offer. And
this is the simple history of my "supplanting
my own brother", of which some of my
family (I don't say Lionel) have made so
much. I hope those who have believed their
slanders will in future determine to hear
both sides, in all things, before they form a
judgment.

I got on very well at my uncle's. My new
profession suited me: I had always thought
it would, and I was not mistaken. My uncle
was very well satisfied with me, and I served
my articles to him. I never once quarrelled
with him during the whole five years. It
would have been very easy to quarrel with
him, if I had wished; but I thought it better
to humour him a little, than run the risk of
having words. When my time was up, he
talked of taking me into partnership with
him.  One afternoon—it was in the winter-
time—I was sitting at my desk, when I
suddenly heard a groan in the adjoining room,
in which my uncle sat. I opened the door,
and looking in, found him sitting in his chair,
his face fallen almost flat upon the table. I
thought he must be dead at first; but, on
raising him, I found that he was in a fit. I
rang the bell, and my uncle's housekeeper
came, and we loosened his neckcloth together.
He revived before the doctor arrived—but he
was very weak. I never saw a man so
changed in a short time, as he was after that.