od gracious me!" ejaculated my mother, again breaking into our
conversation after a brief pause, during which she must have gone
through an abstract mental calculation. "Why, that will be barely a
month from now, my dear!"

"Precisely, this being the third of July," replied Dad drily. "So
Master Jack will have to stir his stumps if he hopes to pass, for I'm
afraid he's rather shaky in his Euclid."

"Dear, dear!" said mother, throwing up her arms in consternation, "he is
very backward in his history, too! Would you believe it, he couldn't
recollect when Magna Charta was signed on my asking him the date
yesterday."

"Really?" cried Dad, leaning back in his chair, and bursting into a
hearty laugh at my mother's serious face, "I'm sure, my dear, I could
not tell you the date off-hand myself at the present moment, not if I
were even going to be hanged in default! Jack knows, though, I'd wager,
when the glorious battle of Trafalgar was fought; and that concerns a
British sailor boy more, I think, than any other event in the whole
history of our plucky little island, save perhaps the defeat of the
grand Armada. What say you, my boy?"

"Of course, I know the date of the battle of Trafalgar, Dad," I answered
glibly enough, having heard it mentioned too often to have forgotten it
in a hurry; and, besides, I knew Southey's _Life of Nelson_ almost by
heart, it being one of my favourite books and ranking in my estimation
next to _Robinson Crusoe_. "It was fought, Dad, on the 21st October
1805."

"There, mother, just hear that!" cried Dad, chaffingly. "Are you not
proud of your boy in blue? By Jove, he'll set the Thames on fire if he
goes on at that rate!"

"I _am_ proud of him; but I do not wish him to fail," replied mother,
who took things generally _au serieux_; and, turning to me, she said in
her earnest way,--"Dear Jack, I'm afraid you are too confident and do
not attend to your lessons now as you used to do. Pray, work hard, my
dear boy, for my sake!"

"I will, mother dear, I promise you that," said I, kissing her. "I
won't get plucked if I can help it."

"That's right, my brave boy, you cannot say more than that," chimed in
Dad, with a pat of approval on my head, as my mother drew me towards her
in mute caress. "By the way, I tell you what I'll do, Jack. I was
asking my old friend Captain Gifford the other day about a good naval
tutor for you, and you shall have the assistance of the same `crammer'
he ha