pap to papas. You do not remember your first new knife; your memory will scarcely carry you as far back as your first razor; you cannot recall your sensations of pride at your first hat, nor remember what a deep red mark it left upon your forehead. Can you even remember your first "real Havannah," or its effects? Nature, however, asserts her claim to be heard even in this "fast" age; and it almost makes me smile, while shaving, when I think how she refuses to endorse your claims, or to respond to your sharp entreaties to be men before your time.

When I think how ignorant I was at twelve years old of the mysteries of dress-coats and stiff shirt-collars; how innocent I was of all knowledge of the world, and "savoir vivre ;" and observe how well you, at the same age, understand all these things-how scientifically you can criticize the pas de quatre, and how feelingly you can appreciate the "Rejected Addresses "-the spirit of envy rises strong within me. With that high superiority and noble generosity, then, which are also characteristics of the age in which you live, pardon the above remarks, made only with a

view of justifying my youthful innocence, and read my Experiences as you would those of dear old Pepys or of stately Evelyn.

The last words were said, the last kisses given, and the carriage drove quickly away, as if even the coachman felt the oppressiveness of the atmosphere and longed to escape from the falling showers. Thus I left home for the first time; to return thither in a few months with my first impressions and experiences of life, and to feel how they had altered all my views and changed all my ideas.

It would certainly form a nice subject of inquiry for those interested in philosophical researches, to explain the change in a boy's mind between the first leaving, and the first return home. Is it because he has seen more, knows more, and has thought more, that he finds home less to him than it was a few months back? Can he see its faults more clearly, and has he less appreciation for its beauties? Is it that he is greater in his own opinion, and feels hurt and annoyed that all do not agree in his own valuation of himself? Has he been where all home-love was considered

soft," and where he has almost learned to be ashamed of those of whom he should be most proud? Or is it that he has become tainted by the atmosphere he has been living in, and feels home to be almost too sacred to be contaminated by his presence?

When it comes to my turn to send my little son to fight his way-no, perhaps, not to fight: ere then, thanks to the Peace Society! even schoolboy quarrels may be arranged by arbitration, and the right of might legislated for by Act of Parliament — when this becomes my very painful duty, I shall deeply feel the responsibility of that first separation, and devoutly pray that the halffledged innocent may return to the paternal nest unscathed.

CHAPTER II.

I GO TO SCHOOL.

"All is not well:

I doubt some foul play here."

HAMLET.

You will think me at least a grandfather if I take you to any place in this country by coach-andfour, intersected as it now appears, when viewed through the interesting medium of "Bradshaw's Railway Guide," with countless red lines and innumerable little dots. But twelve or fourteen years ago, sixty miles an hour would have been considered an insanity; the electric telegraph a myth; to span the Atlantic in ten days an impossibility; to be on terms of a friendly alliance with France an absurdity; and in those days a coach-and-four was the only way by which to reach the famous watering-place of Weston,

where I was to be "inducted" into the rudiments of a classical education, preparatory to entering one of our great public schools.

It was not one of those melancholy, makebelieve coaches one sometimes meets with in obscure parts of Wales, but the Royal Mail, with V. R. on the panels, a gentleman driver on the box (somebody told me he was a lord, but I did not feel quite sure at the same time if this were not meant for a hoax), a scarlet-coated guard on a little music-stool behind, and letters at 11d. each postage in the box below.

It was on a fine summer evening, at about five o'clock, that I was landed on the cliffs of Weston, and saw before me the sea, glowing like fire from the reflection of the gorgeous sunset in its calm surface. Finding a "glass coach," as Pepys would have called the lumbering vehicle, I stepped into it, with my portmanteau and precious hat-box, and was forthwith conveyed to Elm-house Preparatory School.

So many authors have graphically described the boy's sensations on a first arrival at school, and mine were so identical with those which have