observed, did not smile now.

His whilom merry countenance, on the contrary, was all puckered up in
the most comical way; while his brows were knit as he chewed the feather
end of his quill pen trying to get inspiration from that source how to
properly write some long word--I think it was "Mesopotamia!"

Poor little fellow! he had a fearful struggle over it; but, although I
should have dearly liked to have helped him, it was against the rules,
so I could only watch his growing despair with a mute sympathy that was
mingled with amusement at the funny faces he made over the, to him,
serious business.

A little later on, however, if this victim of the stiff dictation paper
had looked at me when ruthless old Euclid, my former antagonist, came on
the scene, he would in like fashion have pitied me; for I was quite
fogged by an easy proposition that I had thought I knew by heart the
night before, but now found I had not the slightest glimmering of,
although I answered most of the other questions.

Thus the examination proceeded, until the hour came for us to hand in
our papers; the lot of us then filing before the presiding genii seated
behind the green baize table at the end of the wardroom, and each giving
up his roll of spoilt foolscap in turn as he came up abreast of the
reverend trio.

I was nearly the last of the file; and, as I approached the table, the
chaplain occupying the middle seat looked up.

He had a jolly, round, benevolent sort of face, which wore at the moment
such a good-humoured expression that, I suppose, it became reflected on
mine causing me to smile.

"Hullo, my boy!" said he, smiling, too. "You seem in a very happy frame
of mind, I'm sure. Answered all your questions right, eh?"

"I'm afraid not all, sir," I replied diffidently; "but I hope for the
best."

"That's right, youngster! There's no good to be got by despairing over
things, and remember, you can have another try, you know, if you fail
now," said he encouragingly. "`Never say die,' you know, as an old
friend of mine used always to say, `care once killed a cat!'"

"Why, sir," I exclaimed at this, "that's what my father always tells me.
It's his favourite expression when any difficulty arises. He never
gives in, sir!"

"Indeed!" said the fat gentleman, while the others on either side of him
looked interested. "Who is your father, my boy, if you'll excuse my
asking you the question?"

"Francis Vernon," I answered promptly. "