family-unavoidable, and, so to speak, honourable embarrassments-had, in a great measure, been kept from him. "What will be done? Papa must borrow it from Mr. Arkell."

"I do not think he will: your papa says he will not apply to him again. If you only knew how much, how often, we have to borrow from Mr. Arkell-kind, generous Mr. Arkell!—you would not wonder at your papa's shrinking from it."

Is it this that has made you worse lately, mamma?"

"These things generally. But for Mr. Arkell we could not have got through the winter at all. Child," she added, bursting into tears, "in spite of my firmly-seated trust, these petty anxieties are wearing me out. Every time a knock comes to the door, I shiver and tremble, lest it should be people come to ask for money which we cannot pay. Henry, will be late."

you

"Plenty of time, mamma. I timed myself one day, and ran from this to the cloister entrance in two minutes and a half. Are you being pressed for much besides this?" he continued, touching the letter.

"Not very much for anything else," she replied. "That is the worst: if that were settled, I think we might manage to stave off the rest till brighter days come round. If we can but retain our home!-several times it would have gone, but for Mr. Arkell."

"Oh, if I were but old enough to help!" he uttered, clasping his hands with an action of despair.

"I was wrong to speak of this to you," she sighed: "and I am wrong to give way, myself. It is not often that I do. How could Lucy have made the mistake? Cheer up, Harry," she added, with a cheerful look: "God never sent a burden, but He sent strength to bear it and we have always, hitherto, been wonderfully helped. Henry, you will surely be late."

He slowly took his elbow from the mantelpiece, where it had been leaning. "No. But if I were, it would be something new: it is not often they have to mark me late."

Henry Arkell kissed his mother, and walked out of the house in a dreamy mood, and with a slow step; not with the eager look and quick foot of a schoolboy, in dread of being marked late on the cathedral-roll. As he let the gate swing to, behind him, and turned towards the way which led to the back, or cloister-entrance, of the cathedral, a hand was laid upon his shoulder.

Henry turned, and saw a young, tall, aristocratic man, looking down upon him. In spite of his mind's trouble, his face shone with pleasure. Oh, Mr. St. John! Are you in Riverton ?"

66

Well, I think you have pretty good ocular demonstration of it. Harry, you have grown out of all knowledge: you will be as tall as my anky self, if you go on like this. How is Mrs. Arkell ?"

"Not any better, thank you, sir. I am so very pleased to see you," he continued: "but I cannot stop now. The bell has been going ten minutes."

"In the choir still? Are you the senior boy ?" "Senior chorister, but not senior boy yet.

Jocelyn went to Oxford in January."

"Harry, I must see your medal. I heard of

Prattleton is senior.

your success."

"Oh, I'll fetch it out in a minute: it is only in the parlour."

He ran in, and came out with a medal of gold, hanging to a blue ribbon. Mr. St. John took it in his hand.

"The dean displayed taste," was his remark.

on one side, and the inscription to you on the other."

"Riverton cathedral

"My name had to be put in afterwards, you know, when it was found I had gained it."

"I am glad you did gain it, Harry," said Mr. St. John, looking kindly at him. "There; put it up, and be off. I don't want you to be marked late through me."

There was not another minute to be lost, so Henry slipped the medal into his jacket-pocket, and flew away. Mr. St. John, a gentleman of high birth, whose family lived near the cathedral, had once been a college boy himself.

There was a bad practice prevailing in the college school, but only resorted to by the senior boys: it was that of pledging their goods and chattels. Watches, chains, silver pencil-cases, books, or anything else available, were taken to Rutterley, the pawnbroker's, without scruple. Of course, this was not known to the masters. A tale was told of Jones tertius having taken his surplice to Rutterley's one Monday morning; and, being unable to redeem it on the Saturday, he had lain in bed all day on the Sunday, and sent word to the head master that he had sprained his ankle. On the Monday, he limped into the school, apparently in excruciating pain, to the sympathy of the masters, and intense admiration of the senior boys. Henry Arkell had never been guilty of this practice, but he was asking himself, all college time, why he should not be, for once, and so relieve the pressure at home. He possessed a fine gold watch, the gift of a friend: it was worth, at his own calculation, twenty pounds, and he thought there could be no difficulty in pledging it for ten. "It is not an honourable thing, I know," he reasoned with himself, "but the boys do it every day for their own pleasures, and surely I may, to assist my father. I will do it: and nobody shall be any the

wiser."

Service was over in less than an hour, and he left the cathedral, by the front entrance. Being Saturday afternoon, there was no school. The streets were crowded, for it was what is called in the local phraseology" Assize Saturday:" that is, the judges were expected in, to open court, preparatory to holding the assizes. The high sheriff and his procession had already gone out to meet the judges, and many gazers lingered in the streets, waiting for their return. Henry hastened through them, on his way to the pawnbroker's. He was possessed of a sensitive, refined temperament; and, had he been going into the shop to steal, he could not have felt more shame. The shop was partitioned off into compartments or boxes, so that one customer should not see another. If Henry Arkell could but have known his ill-luck! In the box contiguous to the one he entered, stood Alfred Aultane, the boy next below him in the choir, who had stolen down with one of the family table-spoons, which he had just been protesting to the pawnbroker was his own, and he would have it out on Monday without fail, for his godfather the counsellor was coming in with the judges, and never failed to give him half a sovereign. But that disbelieving pawnbroker obstinately persisted in

refusing to have anything to do with the spoon, for he knew the Aultane crest; and Mr. Alfred stood biting his nails in mortification.

"Will you lend me ten pounds on this?" asked Henry, coming in, and not suspecting that anybody was so near.

"Ten pounds!" uttered Rutterley, after examining the watch. "You college gentlemen have got a conscience! I could not give more than half."

"That would be of no use: I must have ten. I shall be sure to redeem it, Mr. Rutterley."

"I am not afraid of that. The college boys mostly redeem their pledges; I will say that for them. I will lend you six pounds upon it, not a farthing more. What can you be wanting with such a large sum ?"

"That is my business, if you please," returned Henry, civilly. "Oh, of course. Six pounds: take it, or leave it."

A sudden temptation flashed across Henry's mind. What if he pledged the gold medal? But for his having it in his pocket, the thought would not have occurred to him. "But how can I," he mentally argued, "the gift of the dean and chapter! But it is my own," temptation whispered again, "and surely this is a righteous cause. Yes: I will risk it and if I can't redeem it before, it must wait till I get my money from the choir." So he put the watch and the gold medal side by side on the counter, and received two tickets in exchange, and eight sovereigns and four half-sovereigns.

"Be sure keep it close, Mr. Rutterley," he enjoined; "you see my name is on it, and there is no other medal like it in the town. I would not have it known, that I had done this, for a hundred times its worth."

"All right," answered Mr. Rutterley; "things left with me are never seen." But Alfred Aultane, from the next box, had contrived both to hear and see.

Henry Arkell was speeding home, when he heard sounds behind him. "Iss-iss-I say! Iss!"

It was Aultane. "What became of you that you were not at college this afternoon?" demanded Henry, who, as senior chorister, had much authority over the nine choristers under him.

"College be jiggered! I stopped out to see the show; and it isn't come yet. If Wilberforce kicks up a row, I shall swear my mother kept me to make calls with her. I say, Arkell, you couldn't do a fellow a service, could you?"

Henry was surprised at the civil friendly tone-never used by some of the boys to him. "If I can I will," said he. "What is it?"

"Lend me ten bob, in gold. I must get it: it's for something that can't wait. I'll pay you back next week. I know you must have as much about you.

"All the money I have about me is wanted for a specific purpose. I have not a sixpence that I can lend: if I had, you should be welcome to it."

"Nasty mean wretch !" grunted Aultane, in his heart. "Won't I serve him out!"

The cathedral bells had been for some time ringing merrily, giving token that the procession had met the judges, and was nearing the city,

on its return. Aultane tore away, and met the advancing heralds, sounding their trumpets, who were followed by the javelin men, their fine horses two abreast, and restive from the snail's pace to which they were condemned. After them came sundry officials in carriages, and then appeared the emblazoned equipage of the high sheriff, its four steeds, richly caparisoned, prancing and pawing. Both the judges sat in it, fully robed, with the sheriff, and his chaplain in his gown and bands. A plain carriage or two, and a crowd of horsemen followed; and thus their lordships were escorted to the guildhall, the sweet bells still ringing melodiously. Oh, poor creatures! those within the dark walls of the city and county prisons close by, conscious that those bells heralded in their doom, perhaps that of death. What a contrast it was! those hopeless men, in their gloomy cells; with the pomp and ceremony, the curveting horses, the decorated carriage, the array of liveried attendants bearing their glittering javelins, and the proud blast of the trumpets; all collected to welcome the two robed men, who were to judge them!

II.

IT was Assize Sunday. A dense crowd collected early round the doors of the cathedral, and, as soon as they were opened, rushed in, and took possession of the edifice, leaving vacant only the pulpit and the locked-up seats. It was the custom for the bishop (if in Riverton), the dean and chapter, and the forty king's scholars, to assemble just inside the front entrance and receive the judges, who were attended in state to the cathedral, like they had been attended into Riverton the previous evening, the escort being now augmented by the mayor and corporation, and an overflowing shoal of barristers.

The ten choristers (who were also of the king's scholars) were the first to take up their standing at the front entrance. They were soon followed by the rest of the king's scholars, the surplices of the whole forty being primly starched for the occasion. They had laid in their customary supply of pins, for it was the boys' pleasure, during the service on Assize Sunday, to stick pins into people's backs, and pin women's clothes together, the density of the mob permitting full scope to the delightful amusement, and preventing detection.

The thirty king's scholars bustled in from the cloisters two by two, crossed the body of the cathedral to the grand entrance, and placed themselves at the head of the choristers. Which was wrong: they ought to have gone below them. Henry Arkell who, as senior chorister, took precedence of all when in the cathedral (but not when out of it, and that was a somewhat curious rule), told Prattleton, the senior boy, to move down. Out of the cathedral, Arkell was under Prattleton, the latter, as senior boy, being head of all.

Prattleton declined. "Then we must move up," observed Henry. "Choristers."

He was understood: and the choristers moved above the king's scholars.

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Prattleton. you disobey me, Mr. Arkell ?"

"How dare

"How dare you disobey me?" was Henry Arkell's retort. Jan.-VOL. CXV. NO. CCCCLVII.

D

"I am

senior here, and you know it." It must be understood that this sort of clashing could only occur on occasions like the present: on ordinary Sundays and on saints' days the choristers and king's scholars did not come in contact in the cathedral.

"Choristers, move

"I'll let you know who's senior," said Prattleton. down; you juniors, do you hear me? Move down, or I'll have you hoisted to-morrow."

"If Mr. Arkell tells us, please, sir," responded a timid junior, who fancied Mr. Prattleton looked particularly at him.

The choristers did not stir, and Prattleton was savage. "King's scholars, move up, and shove."

Some of the king's scholars hesitated, especially those of the lower school. It was no light matter to disobey the senior chorister in the cathedral. Others moved up, and proceeded to "shove." Henry Arkell calmly turned to one of his own juniors.

"Hardcastle, go into the vestry, and ask Wilberforce to step here. Should he have gone into college, fetch him out of the chanting-desk." "Remain where you are, Hardcastle," foamed Prattleton. "I dare you to stir."

Hardcastle, a little chap of ten, was already off, but he turned round at the words. "I am not under your orders, Mr. Prattleton, sir, when the senior quirester's present."

A few minutes, and then the Reverend Mr. Wilberforce, in his surplice and hood, was seen advancing. Hardcastle had fetched him out of the chanting-desk.

"What's all this? what hubbub are you boys making? I'll flog you all to-morrow. Arkell, Prattleton, what's the matter?"

"I thought it better to send for you, sir, than to have a disturbance here," cried Henry Arkell.

"A disturbance here! You had better not attempt it."

"Don't the king's scholars take precedence of the quiresters, sir?" demanded Prattleton.

"No, they don't," returned the master. "If you have not been years enough in the college to know the rules, Mr. Prattleton, you had better return to the bottom of the school, and learn them. Arkell, in this place you are head. King's scholars, move down, and be quick over it: and I'll flog you all round," concluded Mr. Wilberforce, " "if you strike up a dispute in college again."

The master turned tail, and strode back as fast as his short legs would carry him for the dean and chapter, marshalled by a verger and the bedesmen, were crossing the cathedral; and a flourish of trumpets, outside, told of the approach of the judges. It was the Reverend Mr. Wilberforce's week for chanting, and he would hardly recover breath to begin.

The choristers all grinned at the master's decision, save Arkell and Aultane the latter, though second chorister, took part with Prattleton, because he hated Arkell: and as the judges passed them in their flowing scarlet robes with the trains held up behind, and their imposing wigs, so terrible to look at, their bows were much more gracious than those of the king's scholars. The additional mob, teeming in after the judges'