called him a promising fellow, only a little too desultory in his habits of reading, and ended by telling him that he might read what he liked, on condition only that he did not neglect the business of the school, or defraud himself of the time necessary for sleep and exercise.

"But did you come from Underwood and bring me no letters, messages, or anything?"

66

Oh, I quite forgot,-I have a parcel for you," said Reuben, greatly fluttered, and ransacking the bottom of the box.

66

Stupid and why did you not give it to me the first thing you did?—from whom is it?

"From your aunt Winning, of course.”

"And did she send me nothing else?" "Nothing but a letter."

"Do you call that nothing?—you are a fine fellow,-as to the letter, I presume you have lost it-come, let me try—if it is in the box, I'll soon ferret it out."

"Permit me," said Reuben, eagerly but humbly.

He was uneasy lest Winning should discover the silk purse, and still more afraid of his finding the plumb-cake, which he felt quite ashamed of, and had only carried with him out of his affection and respect for old Mrs. Hopkins. But Winning was resolved to search for himself, and he soon found the letter, for he tossed about Reuben's shirts and other things, without much ceremony, but he lighted at the same time, not on the plumb-cake, but upon Mademoiselle's little present of the flask of Eau-de-Cologne.

"What have we got here?" he cried, holding it up to the light: "eh, what is this?-is it wine ?"

"Eau-de-Cologne-a scent," said poor Reuben, in wonderful

trepidation.

"Oh, a scent, is it ?-do you know what we do with scents at Finchley ?"

66

"No," said Reuben.

"Come to the window, and I'll show you what luxurious fellows we are."

Winning walked over to the window, followed by Reuben, very curious to see the use his friend was going to apply the Eau-de-Cologne to.

The room was on the court beneath the window. a particular stone, and then

third story, and there was a paved Winning desired Reuben to look at holding the flask between his finger

and thumb, he dropped it critically over the spot, where, of course, it was shattered in some thousand pieces, sprinkling the court for some yards round with that agreeable perfume to which a thousand flowers are said to contribute.

"Are we not luxurious fellows, eh ?-to water our pavement with Eau-de-Cologne !"

Reuben looked extremely chagrined.

"My dear fellow," said Winning, patting him on the back, "the scent is much better there than in your box. If the fellows here were to find out that you scented yourself, or had scents in your possession, you would never hear the end of it. Now go and put your things in order-I must read my good aunt's letter."

The boys soon became cordial friends; Henry Winning exercising a mild protective despotism, and Reuben reasonably abstemious from supernumerary pursuits, for which in truth the routine of the seminary, (its amusements as well as its business,) left him but little leisure. The example and influence of Winning were signally useful to young Medlicott, who not only prosecuted his classical studies with almost uninterrupted assiduity for the greater part of a year under the auspices of his judicious and spirited friend, but following his footsteps also in other things, began to take pleasure in gymnastic exercises, which materially improved his health and added to the attraction of his person. Winning stimulated his ambition upon these points by dwelling on the vast importance attached to them by the ancient Greeks, who were at the same time the most literary and intellectual people in the world. This was a view of the matter which seized hold of Reuben's imagination powerfully. In conjunction with two boys named Primrose and Vigors, aided by a few admiring followers, he projected a revival of the Olympic games on the play-ground of Finchley, and they actually commenced putting the design experimentally into execution by hiring two donkey-carts belonging to a coster-monger in the vicinity, and starting them against each other, by way of a chariot-race. Reuben dubbed himself Phaeton; Vigors was Salmoneus. The donkeys were named after the horses of the Sun. This aspiring piece of puerility ended in the two charioteers being left sprawling in the dust of the mock hippodrome; Salmoneus getting a broken nose, and Phaeton coming still worse off with a violent sprain of his ancle. Primrose took no very active part in this Olympic experiment, but he composed a

Pindaric ode in celebration of it, the concluding stanza of which, with a serio-comic allusion to the catastrophe, obtained the applause of Mr. Brough himself.

But Reuben's social experiences are perhaps better worth relating than his experiences as a schoolboy; the acquaintances he made, and the connexions he formed at Hereford, had full as much influence upon his future career as the Latin and Greek he learned, and the nonsense verses he composed.

He heard a great deal of the Barsacs from Winning and other boys, but for one reason or another, much to his disappointment, a considerable time elapsed before he received any of that civility and attention from them which his grandfather's talk had led him to expect. At length, as if they had suddenly heard of him for the first time (which may have been actually the case) he was included in a very general invitation of Mr. Brough's scholars to a juvenile fête, or ball; the event excited him greatly; he recollected accurately every word of what the Dean had said about the Barsacs, in praise or abuse of them; and in Blanche, whom his grandfather had so repeatedly and energetically pronounced "an angel," Reuben almost expected to find that flattering description true to the letter.

The elements of dancing he had learned, as such things are to be learned in a place like Chichester; but he had brought no dancing shoes with him from home, so he consulted his chief, and was strongly recommended by him to a little shop kept by a Frenchman, who sold wonderful nice shoes, and wonderfully cheap.

"You and I, Medlicott," added Winning, "must look sharp to economy; neither of us have very splendid allowances; indeed I believe neither will have much but his industry and talents to depend on through life."

"So I have heard my father often say," said Reuben.

"Well," said Winning, "you will find Monsieur Adolphe's shoes excellent and dog-cheap; the shop is at the corner of one of the closes-I forget the name-but it is on the east side of the Cathedral, between a pastry-cook's shop and a cutler's: remember the name is Adolphe."

It was a fine summer evening, and the shadow of the great square tower of the Cathedral of Hereford was thrown like a broad sombre mantle over the cluster of lanes and buildings to which Reuben had been directed by his friend. This shop was easily ascertained, for the name of Adolphe was freshly painted in

sufficiently large letters over the door. Reuben entered and found a pale handsome young man, with shining black moustache, sitting without his coat on the little counter, and playing the flageolet. He had heard the air before: it was certainly one of those charming ones which Mrs. Winning's obliging French maid had sung at the Vicarage on the day he left home. The young man jumped down, bowed with his national grace and politeness, and in very good English tendered his services and manufactures to his customer. The shoes seemed to justify Winning's eulogies, and Reuben was soon fitted with a pair which promised both in shape and polish to make a pretty figure at Mrs. Barsac's ball. While M. Adolphe was putting them up in paper, Reuben took up the flageolet to examine it, for he had never seen one before.

"Did Monsieur play the flageolet?"

"No, but it seemed a very sweet instrument."

"It is very easy," said Adolphe: and taking it up again, played another little air, which was also one of those which Mademoiselle Louise had played and sung at Underwood. The musical shoemaker saw that his customer was very much pleased with the performance.

"Ah! but I cannot sing, Monsieur; it is the voice that makes the little romances of my country charmant; I have a sister who sings them like a nightingale."

Reuben lost no time in informing the shoemaker that he had heard the very same airs sung by a country woman of his at a house in the country near Chichester.

"Ah, oui! Chichester-Madame Winning-sans doute c' étoit mademoiselle ma sœur :-elles chante ces petits romans là à râvir."

Our hero thought he had made some wonderful discovery in finding that Mrs. Winning's French maid was the shoemaker's sister, and he communicated the fact to Winning with the utmost gravity.

"Is it not very singular?" said Reuben.

"Why," said Winning, smiling at his simplicity, " if a Frenchman and his sister live in England at all, and do not live in the same place, I see nothing prodigious in one living at Hereford and the other at Underwood."

66

Why no," said Reuben, "I see there is not, on reflection." But the occasion for wearing the shoes soon put the maker of them, and all connected with him, out of Reuben's head for the time being.

CHAPTER IL.

MRS. BARSAC'S BALL.

THE long-expected evening came at last, and Reuben found himself transported into the midst of a tumultuous assembly of welldressed people, in the gay house of which he had so long desired to penetrate the interior. Except his school-fellows, he was acquainted with nobody. There was nobody to tell him the name of any one. Which of the company were the Barsacs, or whether they were present or not, he was in their house for an hour, without knowing more than the man in the moon, as the saying is. He knew the ball had commenced by hearing the music, feeling the floors vibrate, and finding himself swayed to and fro occasionally by the movements of the dancers, though he could scarcely see them. He wondered what had become of Winning, and paid close attention to the ladies in white dresses, among whom alone he expected to find Miss Blanche Barsac, so strongly had his grandfather's description of her affected his imagination. Suddenly his shoulder was tapped behind. He turned about and found Winning at his elbow.

66

Why are you not dancing?" said his friend.

Reuben re

plied, with a faltering voice, that he would rather not dance; he knew little more than the steps-had scarcely a notion of a figure.

"Not dance?—then why did you buy the dancing-shoes?" "Besides, I have no partner. I know nobody—at least, no lady."

66

'Oh, I'll soon settle that;-come, will you dance with brown sherry, pale sherry, or dry sherry?”

"You are joking," said Reuben, his gravity overcome by his friend's question.

"No, don't you know that those are our names for the three Miss Barsacs? There is Brown Sherry, the prettiest, dancing with the officer; that cross-looking girl, talking to Mr. Brough yonder, is Dry Sherry; and, stay, there's Pale Sherry actually looking at us, asking us with her eyes. You shall honour her with your hand."

"What is her name?" asked Reuben, in great excitement. "Blanche," replied Winning, little guessing Reuben's interest in the answer.