probably be many among the readers of this book who have themselves had similar experiences, for, if they have not, their career must have been singularly limited and lucky. There are men-ay, and women too-who from an inability to represent facts correctly, or from interested motives, or from vanity, will misrepresent occurrencies and make out that black was white, and yes, no. There are men and women whom it is dangerous to speak to or be with without witnesses, and we believe that when all secrets are revealed it will be found that more perjury has been committed in connexion with tête-à-tête interviews than with any other event in life, from the days of Joseph to the present time.

During the day D'Arcy came to me, and laughed immensely as he told me that Snipson had told the old cadets what a licking he had given me. "He said you tried to escape from the room, but he locked the door and just polished you off. You are quite certain," said D'Arcy, "that everything occurred as you told me?"

"Quite," I replied, "and Snipson is a liar!"

"I believe you," replied D'Arcy; "but you had better keep quiet, and you will now escape being thrashed by the old cadets, which is no joke, I can tell you."

I followed D'Arcy's advice, and did not even deny that I had been thrashed by Snipson, although I could not help adding, on one or two occasions, that "I should not mind such a licking being repeated."

This was my last adventure with Snipson, who had been a thorn in my side since my first joining the Academy. As, however, it was not the last that I knew of his career, I may here mention what I knew of his future, and then expunge his name from these pages.

Before the end of the half-year Snipson was found drunk by the officer on duty. As he had been nearly four years at the Academy, and had but little chance of qualifying, it was intimated to his friends that they had better withdraw him from the Academy. Following this hint, Snipson suddenly disappeared, and his name was soon forgotten where it had once been a terror to all last-joined.

Twenty years after the events related in this book I was walking down Oxford Street when I saw coming towards me a man with a seedy, threadbare frock-coat, the arms of which were much too short for the wearer, and the collar of which came too high. The coat had evidently previously graced the form of another wearer, and when its youthful beauties had faded had become the property of its

present owner. A portion of shirt was visible, aud plainly indicated that it had been far too long absent from the washerwoman. A hat bent and without gloss surmounted a red face, with eyes somewhat like those of a crying child, and a beard of about four days' growth. Brown trowsers, creased and frayed, stained and patched, hung over a pair of split, misshapen shoes, and completed the attire of a man whose type is now and then seen in London.

Something about the man at once attracted me, and I thus noted his appearance. The face, though altered, and indicating the effect of drink, I yet recognized; and as the man walked past me and turned his head so as to avoid showing me his face, I knew this wretched failure of a man was my once bully, Snipson. He had failed as a cadet and he had failed as a man; and from his appearance it was evident he had not done what some men do, who in their young days have failed, viz., begin again at the bottom of the ladder, and by steady work endeavour to recover themselves; but he was always scheming to recover himself by one grand coup, and was always being disappointed.

I turned round quickly after I had passed Snipson, and saw him peeping at me from a shop-door. When he caught my eye he turned and walked on

with an air and style that showed he had not yet suffered enough to make him sensible of his own defects, nor was he yet in a state deserving of sympathy.

One of the singular and yet universal peculiarities in the character of such men as Snipson is, that they assert, and evidently believe, that their unfortunate state is in no manner due to any fault or failing of their own. They can always assure you that if this man had not done so-and-so, or that man had not failed them in the most unexpected way, they would have been all right. They are themselves never wrong; they don't ever admit a mistake; they are convinced of their own cleverness, and satisfied with their own knowledge. Former companions who have "got on" in life they speak of as "lucky beggars," and have usually something to say in disparagement of such men, as a sort of attempt to drag down the successful to their own low level. They rarely, if ever, admit any merit or skill in others, and attribute all that others may win, by hard work and thought, to "luck," and all their own failures to "bad luck." This was Snipson's state twenty years after he was a bully-idle and untruthful as a gentleman cadet.

CHAPTER XIII.

OUR ROW AT THE RACES.

DURING this my third half-year there were some races by the officers on Woolwich Common, to which the cadets were given leave to go, and a tent was provided for us, in which we had some light refreshment, such as beer and bread and cheese. Now between what is usually termed the "louts" and the schoolboys in any good school in any part of England there seems a natural antagonism, and fights not unusually take place, brought on as much by the insult of the lout as by the natural pugnaciousness of the English well-bred boy. In former times at Woolwich this feeling of antagonism was by no means extinct, for as the cadets marched down the Common to the Arsenal, or out in the country, it was generally found that a number of louts would assemble and hoot them, mewing like cats and calling out "puss"-the term cadet being