let any one else know, that he ever thought particularly of any boy at
all.

However, the Doctor's victory was complete from that moment over Tom
Brown at any rate. He gave way at all points, and the enemy marched
right over him--cavalry, infantry, and artillery, and the land transport
corps, and the camp followers. It had taken eight long years to do it;
but now it was done thoroughly, and there wasn't a corner of him left
which didn't believe in the Doctor. Had he returned to School again, and
the Doctor begun the half-year by abolishing fagging, and football, and
the Saturday half-holiday, or all or any of the most cherished School
institutions, Tom would have supported him with the blindest faith. And
so, after a half confession of his previous shortcomings, and sorrowful
adieus to his tutor, from whom he received two beautifully-bound volumes
of the Doctor's sermons, as a parting present, he marched down to the
Schoolhouse, a hero-worshipper, who would have satisfied the soul of
Thomas Carlyle himself.

There he found the eleven at high jinks after supper, Jack Raggles
shouting comic songs and performing feats of strength, and was greeted
by a chorus of mingled remonstrance at his desertion and joy at his
reappearance. And falling in with the humour of the evening, he was soon
as great a boy as all the rest; and at ten o'clock was chaired round
the quadrangle, on one of the hall benches, borne aloft by the eleven,
shouting in chorus, "For he's a jolly good fellow," while old Thomas, in
a melting mood, and the other School-house servants, stood looking on.

And the next morning after breakfast he squared up all the cricketing
accounts, went round to his tradesmen and other acquaintance, and said
his hearty good-byes; and by twelve o'clock was in the train, and away
for London, no longer a school-boy, and divided in his thoughts between
hero-worship, honest regrets over the long stage of his life which was
now slipping out of sight behind him, and hopes and resolves for the
next stage upon which he was entering with all the confidence of a young
traveller.

CHAPTER IX--FINIS.

"Strange friend, past, present, and to be;
Loved deeplier, darklier understood;
Behold I dream a dream of good,
And mingle all the world with thee."--TENNYSON.

In the summer of 1842, our hero stopped once again at the well-known
station; and leaving his bag and fishing-rod with a porter, walked
slowly and sadly