seal upon my scrutinies,-to take warning from what had passed already. The incidents of this morning I had sufficient motives never to divulge, for my own crimination must have been involved in any recital of what I had seen. Delaval knew this, for he said not a word about secrecy; and, in sooth, I really believe that without any other inducement, a respect for those feelings I had tampered with for that sorrow which I had so wantonly made a sport of would have checked any propensity to make known the melancholy scene I had witnessed- the sad state of poor

Delaval's mind.

No sooner had I entered the school-room, than Leicester and Sinclair came running up eagerly to accost me. The former seized me by the hand:

My dear fellow," said he, "how can I thank you for fighting my battles so gallantly? Sinclair and you are deserving of my eternal and sincerest gratitude. By the Lord, it was a ridiculous affair; but I wish-oh, how I do wish! that I had been there myself; my gorge rises as I think of the insults that have been passed behind my back :-a set of envious, heavy-minded churls! But it is not too late yet! I am determined—”

"Remember your promise; remember your promise!" said Everard.

"What do you think, Jerningham? Sinclair

has exacted a promise from me that I will not challenge Evans to fight, nor give Brown a sound beating. I really am half inclined to quarrel with my orator and champion for this; and yet, what could I say? could I refuse any thing to him? particularly as the sly rogue took care not to tell me the nature of his request, before he made me promise to grant it. I wish, Jerningham, that you would persuade him to absolve me from the promise he extorted from my ignorance of what he was to ask. My good fellow, what on earth makes you look so sorrowful?"

"Oh! nothing; nothing whatever,” said I; and endeavoured to look as easy as possible; but I fear it was a sorry attempt, for grief weighed heavily at my heart, and spite of the congratulations of Leicester, and the joy-infusing presence of Everard, I could not sufficiently shake it off"Oh! nothing is the matter, I assure you; I was only thinking of your renewing the quarrel, and stirring up the fires of contention, which I had hoped, were smothered in the school. Leicester, believe me; you must let the matter drop here. However unpleasant it may be to your high spirit to endure this in silence, it is wiser, it is better, that you should do so. I must join my entreaties to Everard's; and if I am not very wofully mistaken, a third person will very soon conjure you to

follow a similar course. Leicester, I rest satisfied that you will follow the advice we give you in all sincerity of heart, and in all singleness of purpose. I think that we have a right to expect that you will not deny us this."

"I am afraid that it must be so.

And yet I would forfeit my right hand sooner than suffer that Evans to go unthrashed."

CHAPTER VI.

Fearless he was, and scorning all disguise;

What he dared do or think, though men might start,
He spoke with mild and unaverted eyes.

SHELLEY.

I have known him

Transported on a sudden into utterance

Of strange conceptions; kindling into splendour,
His soul revealed itself.

COLERIDGE.

I HAD been three years at Dr. R's, when, at the approach of one summer vacation, I took it into my head, that I would ask my uncle to invite Everard Sinclair to spend the holidays with me at Heathfield. My request, I need hardly say, was unhesitatingly granted.

Everard was delighted at the prospect of happiness thus unfolded to his view; but he seemed to doubt the success of an application to his stern

hearted father. What is there that the spirit of contrariety will not induce a person to do?

However, we were mistaken. Mr. Sinclair, after a reasonable delay of two or three weeks, during which time Everard and I were stretched upon the tenter-hooks of suspense, responded that his son was very welcome to go to the devil if he thought fit; for his part, he was very glad to get rid of such an incumbrance; he wished Mr. Jerningham well quit of his bargain; d-n him, he was quite sure that it would be heartily repented of ere long."

If I dwell upon these scenes of my boyhood with a prolixity which may not be pleasing to the more mature portion of my readers, I trust that the offence is of a nature which merits the readiest forgiveness. I dwell upon these scenes because the memory of them is fraught with delight. My pen lingers fondly and tenaciously upon these earlier stages of my history, which, compared with the events of my after-life, are as the holy calm of a summer's evening to the tumult, the uproar, the commotion of a desolating tempest in the North. There is a sufficiency of excitement in store: the skeleton-head will peep out enough; let us tarry, therefore, a few minutes longer, to contemplate one of the few placid scenes, which the compass of my narrative embraces.

out soon