the words. Mr. Parmer and Sir
William were once disputing about a passage
in Virgil, in the schoolroom, as to whether a
certain word was longus or latus; the baronet
was of the former opinion, and I was fortunate
enough to be able to corroborate him;
but 'nevertheless, sir,' said I to the parson
'it's as broad as it's long;' a most
courtier-like reply, which, in a few days, bore
ample fruit. Good Mr. Parmer came one
morning to prepare me for a great preferment.
He wished me well, he said, and had
himself agreed with the squire upon my
merits and their reward. 'I know Sir
William well; perhaps better than any other
man. When he takes a liking there is
no knowing what length he will not go, to
serve its object. I consider,' he finished,
'if you only take ordinary pains to please
him, your fortune's made.'

"The next day I was sent for to Hilton Hall;
I had hitherto only seen its turrets above
the mighty elms from the upper windows of
the workhouse; its owner himself I had
seen rarely, for he went but little abroad,
had grown—on account of having lost a beautiful
wife years ago it was said—almost a
recluse. He took but little interest even in
his broad lands and glorious home, and I
noticed, as I pushed open the Lodge-gates—
for the keeper seeing whom I was, did not
trouble himself to help me—how rusty were
the hinges, and that the leaves in the great
avenue were lying where the last night's
wind had left them; the mansion was on
very high ground, and as I emerged from the
elm-tree drive, on the sweep before the
door, I saw half Hampshire lying beneath
me. There was much pasture set with oaks,
and undulating gently to the level cornlands;
on each side were enormous woods, on which
the fiery finger of autumn had been laid; and
on the right more upland; a tower or steeple
stood here and there, and one white windmill.
Upon the horizon gleamed a silvery
line, which I had never seen before; it was
the sea. I ascended the great stone steps,
—why I did not enter at the back-door I
have no notion—and pulled the quaint bell-
handle not too gently. I felt envious and
somehow aggrieved; not to have even known
of such sights as these before; and yet to have
been within a mile of them my life-long seemed
very strange. I was ushered into the library,
and found Sir William at his desk, over a
parchment. A stained-glass window threw a
flood of coloured light about his pallid forehead,
and surrounded, as he was with such
uncared-for pomp, and matter-of-course
magnficence, it was no wonder, perhaps, that
he seemed to me almost a superior being.

"'Mr. Brooke,' he said, and it was the first time
that the workhouse boy had ever been
dignified by such a title,—'I like your manners,
I like your appearance, and I perceive you
have considerable talent. Do you think you
should be pleased to reside in my house here,
and pursue your studies under a fitting tutor?
You will find me a kind and good-natured
and —' he seemed to be weighing his
words here —'and a powerful friend: but
you must take care not to cross me.'

"I was fourteen years old, Gray, and the
honest bread of labour looked coarse and
unpalateable beside the cake and wine of
dependence. I murmured, 'Yes, Sir William,'
with gratitude.

"'Come nearer,' said the Baronet, and I
approached until I could perceive the object
of his studies; it was a fantastic sort of tree
of great height and many branches, from
which hung pendulous medals, with names
and dates upon them.

"'Do you know what these are, boy?'

"'Kings,' I said; thinking of my table of
the Kings of Judah.

"'Not far out,' he said; he pointed to his
own name hanging alone; 'I am the last,
you see, boy, of all the Perseys; the rotting
branch that shall never put forth a leaf.'

"Although of course entirely unable to
appreciate the pride of ancestry, I gazed
upon him with an unaffected pity, and he
perceived it.

"'You, parish workhouse boy,' said he, as if
annoyed, 'would you not change places with
me tomorrow, if you could, for all this and
more?'

"'No, indeed, sir,' I replied, naïvely, 'you
are too old.'

" I knew that I had spoken ill the moment
after, and crimsoned to the forehead; but,
with calmness and no trace of displeasure, he
said, 'Right, boy, right.' He then added,
'Who is your father, sir? Brooke, Brooke,
I remember no such name in these parts.'

"'I never had one,' I said, mournfully.

"'Nor I a son,' answered he, in the same
tone. Then, after a pause, he said, 'We will
fill, henceforth, those places for one another,'
and, kissing my brow, bade me go home,
and make my preparations for removal.

"So little a box that I could carry it on my
shoulders, contained all my scanty stock of
books and clothes; and, with this, I left the
schoolmaster's cottage—where I had boarded
for nearly six years—for the house of my
adopted father.

"The tumult that occurred in the village
was very great; and its circling
eddies extended, with diminished force, over
all the country round. The most popular
opinions on the subject were, firstly, that Sir
William had gone mad; secondly, that a
designing boy, of the name of Brooke, had
flattered him into adopting him; and thirdly,
that the baronet had taken the tardy step
of acknowledging an illegitimate offspring of
his own.

"My own belief is, that the promise of adoption
was a mere momentary impulse of my
patron, and that he had intended nothing
further, when he sent for me, than to give
me a good education. His natural generosity