ld was to treat it as a tamed tiger, and have
one hand on a crowbar while one fondled the beast with the other. He
enclosed me a bank-note, which somewhat more than covered his debt
to me, and bade me pay him the surplus when he should claim it as a
millionnaire. He gave me no address in his letter, but it bore the
postmark of Godalming. I had the impertinent curiosity to look into an
old topographical work upon Surrey, and in a supplemental itinerary I
found this passage: "To the left of the beech wood, three miles from
Godalming, you catch a glimpse of the elegant seat of Francis Vivian,
Esq." To judge by the date of the work, the said Francis Vivian might be
the grandfather of my friend, his namesake. There could no longer be any
doubt as to the parentage of this prodigal son.

The long vacation was now nearly over, and all his guests were to leave
the poor Captain. In fact, we had made a considerable trespass on his
hospitality. It was settled that I was to accompany my father and mother
to their long-neglected Penates, and start thence for Cambridge.

Our parting was sorrowful,--even Mrs. Primmins wept as she shook hands
with Bolt. But Bolt, an old soldier, was of course a lady's man. The
brothers did not shake hands only,--they fondly embraced, as brothers of
that time of life rarely do nowadays, except on the stage. And Blanche,
with one arm round my mother's neck and one round mine, sobbed in my
ear: "But I will be your little wife, I will." Finally, the fly-coach
once more received us all,--all but poor Blanche, and we looked round
and missed her.

CHAPTER VI.

Alma Mater! Alma Mater! New-fashioned folks, with their large theories
of education, may find fault with thee. But a true Spartan mother thou
art: hard and stern as the old matron who bricked up her son Pausanius,
bringing the first stone to immure him,--hard and stern, I say, to the
worthless, but full of majestic tenderness to the worthy.

For a young man to go up to Cambridge (I say nothing of Oxford, knowing
nothing thereof) merely as routine work, to lounge through three years
to a degree among the (Greek word),--for such an one Oxford Street
herself, whom the immortal Opium-Eater hath so direly apostrophized, is
not a more careless and stony-hearted mother. But for him who will read,
who will work, who will seize the rare advantages proffered, who will
select his friends judiciously,--yea, out of that vast ferment of young
idea in its lu