nded from his seat as if he had been shot, and literally tore
his hair. This was worse than all that had gone before. To one of his
musical inspiration, the human voice divine in conversation was,
endurable, and the roar of battle might even be tolerable, but to hear a
creature attempt to play one of the "songs without words" on an
instrument he knew as little of as the music he was parodying, was
beyond all bearing! Then, if ever, did my wretched master dig his
fingers into his ears, and writhe and shiver and groan at each discord
produced by that inhuman performer. He retreated into the innermost
recess of his bedroom; he even hid his unhappy head beneath the clothes,
if haply he might escape the agony of this torture. But it was
hopeless. The shrieks and groans of that brutal ophicleide would have
penetrated the walls of the Tower of London.

It lasted, I should not like to say how long; and when it was over, the
recollection of its horrors was almost as bad as their endurance. When
George set himself again to work, it was with nerves unstrung and
unutterable forebodings, yet still unconquered.

"At any rate," said he to himself, with a sigh, "there can't be anything
worse than that--unless, indeed, he invites a friend like himself to
practise duets with him!"

Happily this climax was not reached, and for one evening the worst of
George Reader's persecutions had been suffered--but not the last.

By the time the last wail of the ophicleide had wriggled away into
silence it was getting late, and the college was meditating retirement
to rest. This operation was not got through, as may be imagined,
without a good deal of clamour and a good deal of scuffling on the
staircase, and a good deal of dialogue outside the window; but in due
time silence reigned, and George congratulated himself that he had a
quiet time at last before him.

Unlucky boast! Not an hour had passed, the lights in the windows round
the courtyard had vanished, the distant shouts had ceased, and the
footsteps on the pavement without had died away, when George was
startled by a sound that seemed like the boring of a hole under his
fireplace. The noise grew, and other similar noises rose in different
parts. What was it? Surely the gay students of Saint George's were not
about to effect an amateur burglary on the friendless owner of the
"Mouse-trap?"

Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and George's heart beat loud. He
closed his book an