pay, and small pension from government, to share with him during his lifetime, was happy in the prospect of providing for this sole object of his cares a career of lucrative and honourable employment.

He

At this time we were living in a small villa at Putney, in whose green and pleasant bowers Ponty delighted to stroll, on a Saturday evening, after a hot and dusty week in town. had neglected us for a whole fortnight, and we were beginning to marvel, when, one fine Sunday, my mother received a most characteristic billet from our missing friend, announcing his intention of bringing his son to breakfast with us, on his way to Haileybury, where he fully expected him to go through the examination with distinction.

We had not seen the "admirable Crichton" for two years; therefore, it may be imagined with what feverish impatience the younger members of the family expected the arrival of this hero of his father's anecdotes, and the noblest work of Dr. Pliant.

Monday arrived, and with it the object of

our curiosity. From a yellow post-chaise, which rattled up to the door "at ten o'clock, A. M., precisely," emerged Colonel Pontifex, looking redder, and happier, and more pompous than usual; and, with an exuberant pride and delight which he vainly strove to conceal, presented his son to my mother and her assembled family.

James already stood six feet, in his shoes, though he was but seventeen: he was made in the same heavy and massive proportions as his father, with a double share of uncouth awkwardness and real shyness, which he strove to conceal under, what he fancied to be, an air of easy assurance. It was assured, but not easy; nay, to our unsophisticated eyes, it had much the appearance of vulgar impudence: he stood with his back to the fire, beating "the devil's tattoo" with his huge splay-foot,— called his father "the Governor," - spoke loud and dictatorially about the distance to Haileybury, and the time necessary to go there,-poked the fire-and assured my mother that he was "dev'lish hungry." The pauses during breakfast, to which he did ample

justice, he filled up with a succession of dull anecdotes, in which he was himself the hero, or sufferer, or agent, or object;-plans of future amusement during his residence at Hertford College,-stories of past exploits, and good jokes, which had employed the leisure hours, of which there seemed many, of the happy inhabitants of the Pliant mansion, without the cognition of its learned and reverend owner. The enchanted father sat by, his round eyes glistening with fond delight-now gazing entranced on the orator,now glancing round to see that we were all sharing in his enjoyment; and then echoing, uproariously, the laugh at Dr. Pliant's expense; losing sight of the impropriety of such sacrilegious mirth, in the fond pride he evidently took in his hopeful son's ingenuity. At times, he even seemed, in the kindness of his overflowing heart, to wish to soften to my mother the humiliating sense of her children's great inferiority: ever and anon he stroked down my youngest brother's head, or chucked up my second brother's chin, calling them "handsome rogues " and "fine fellows;" or else he clapped me on the back, inquired my

exact age for the fiftieth time, and exclaimed at my likeness to "my poor friend, your father."

At length the hour of their departure arrived, which was elegantly recalled to Colonel Pontifex's recollection by James,—

"Come, Governor! it's time for us to mizzle!" and the happy father and his hopeful son departed.

Great, indeed, was our astonishment, when we heard that this marvel of mathematical science—this compendium of all the arts and sciences, had failed in his examination,-nay, was convicted of the grossest ignorance and deficiency! How his father bore the disappointment, I know not, for I saw no more of him for many years. How Dr. Pliant reconciled it to his conscience to accept of the silver tea-service, which poor Ponty had presented him with, as a mark of gratitude-and how Mrs. Pliant ever ventured to make use of it, in the very face of all “emblems expressive of gratitude," with which it was

adorned, remains a problem yet to be demonstrated.

Not long after these events, the all-absorbing interest of my first voyage swallowed up the remembrance of less important matters. Years passed on; I was no longer a boy: Lord Nelson, Byron, and Bolivar, had successively occupied the place of honour in my soul, originally filled by Bob Pontifex; and, if I remembered my juvenile admiration, it was with a contemptuous smile at the recollections of those "salad days, when I was green in judgment." In the course of a few succeeding years, I, at intervals, learnt from my mother's letters, that James, having failed a second time in his examination, Colonel Pontifex had given up all thoughts of the civil service, as his son had evidently so little turn for its necessary qualifications, and a cadetship in India had been procured for him at his own earnest request. Report spoke but ill of James in his new situation: he was said to be idle and irregular in conduct, and to live far beyond his means. My mother also hinted that she believed he wrote but seldom to his father;