if not plebeian praenomen. The words were venom in my
ears; and when, upon the day of my arrival, a second William Wilson came
also to the academy, I felt angry with him for bearing the name, and
doubly disgusted with the name because a stranger bore it, who would
be the cause of its twofold repetition, who would be constantly in my
presence, and whose concerns, in the ordinary routine of the school
business, must inevitably, on account of the detestable coincidence, be
often confounded with my own.

The feeling of vexation thus engendered grew stronger with every
circumstance tending to show resemblance, moral or physical, between my
rival and myself. I had not then discovered the remarkable fact that we
were of the same age; but I saw that we were of the same height, and
I perceived that we were even singularly alike in general contour of
person and outline of feature. I was galled, too, by the rumor touching
a relationship, which had grown current in the upper forms. In a word,
nothing could more seriously disturb me, (although I scrupulously
concealed such disturbance,) than any allusion to a similarity of mind,
person, or condition existing between us. But, in truth, I had no reason
to believe that (with the exception of the matter of relationship, and
in the case of Wilson himself,) this similarity had ever been made a
subject of comment, or even observed at all by our schoolfellows. That
he observed it in all its bearings, and as fixedly as I, was apparent;
but that he could discover in such circumstances so fruitful a field of
annoyance, can only be attributed, as I said before, to his more than
ordinary penetration.

His cue, which was to perfect an imitation of myself, lay both in words
and in actions; and most admirably did he play his part. My dress it
was an easy matter to copy; my gait and general manner were, without
difficulty, appropriated; in spite of his constitutional defect, even my
voice did not escape him. My louder tones were, of course, unattempted,
but then the key, it was identical; and his singular whisper, it grew
the very echo of my own.

How greatly this most exquisite portraiture harassed me, (for it could
not justly be termed a caricature,) I will not now venture to describe.
I had but one consolation--in the fact that the imitation, apparently,
was noticed by myself alone, and that I had to endure only the knowing
and strangely sarcastic smiles of my namesake himself. Satisfied with