the wicked over him,
And upon his right hand
Give thou his greatest enemy,
Even Satan, leave to stand.

And, when by thee he shall be judged,
Let him remembered be;
And let his prayer be turned to sin
When he shall call on thee.

Few be his days; and in his room
His charge another take;
His children let be fatherless;
His wife a widow make:

Let God his father's wickedness
Still to remembrance call;
And never let his mother's sin
Be blotted out at all.

As he in cursing pleasure took
So let it to him fall;
As he delighted not to bless,
So bless him not at all.

As cursing he like clothes put on,
Into his bowels so,
Like water, and into his bones
Like oil, down let it go.

Young Wringhim only knew the full purport of this spiritual song; and
went to his bed better satisfied than ever that his father and brother
were castaways, reprobates, aliens from the Church and the true faith,
and cursed in time and eternity.

The next day George and his companions met as usual--all who were not
seriously wounded of them. But, as they strolled about the city, the
rancorous eye and the finger of scorn was pointed against them. None of
them was at first aware of the reason; but it threw a damp over their
spirits and enjoyments, which they could not master. They went to take
a forenoon game at their old play of tennis, not on a match, but by way
of improving themselves; but they had not well taken their places till
young Wringhim appeared in his old station, at his brother's right
hand, with looks more demure and determined than ever. His lips were
primmed so close that his mouth was hardly discernible, and his dark
deep eye flashed gleams of holy indignation on the godless set, but
particularly on his brother. His presence acted as a mildew on all
social intercourse or enjoyment; the game was marred, and ended ere
ever it was well begun. There were whisperings apart--the party
separated, and, in order to shake off the blighting influence of this
dogged persecutor, they entered sundry houses of their acquaintances,
with an understanding that they were to meet on the Links for a game at
cricket.

They did so; and, stripping off part of their clothes, they began that
violent and spirited game. They had not played five minutes till
Wringhim was stalking in the midst of them, and totally impeding the
play. A cry arose from all corners of: "Oh, this will never do. Kick
him