boasted in the nursery of my father being so honourable,
I always finished my saying, that that was why he had the word
Honourable before his name, as men in old times used to be called "the
Good" or "the Lion Heart." The nursemaids quite believed it, and I
believed it myself, till the first week I went to school.

It makes me hot all over to remember what I suffered that week, and
for long, afterwards. But I think it cured me of bragging, which is a
mean ungentlemanly habit, and of telling everybody everything about
myself and my relations, which is very weak-minded.

The second day I was there, one of the boys came up to me and said,
with a mock ceremony and politeness which unfortunately took me in,
"If I am not mistaken, sir, that esteemed lady, your mother, is an
Honourable?"

He was nearly five years older than I; his name was Weston; he had a
thin cadaverous face, a very large nose, and a very melancholy
expression. I found out afterwards that he was commonly called "the
clown," and was considered by boys who had been to the London theatres
to surpass the best professional comic actors when he chose to put
forth his powers. I did not know this then. I thought him a little
formal, but particularly courteous in his manner, and not wishing to
be behindhand in politeness, I replied, with as much of his style as I
could assume, "Certainly, sir. But that is because my father was an
Honourable. My father, sir, was the most honourable of men."

A slight spasm appeared to pass over Weston's face, and then he
continued the conversation in a sadder tone than the subject seemed to
require, but I supposed that this was due to his recalling that my
father was dead.

I confess that it did not need many leading inquiries to draw from me
such a narrative of my father's valour and high principle, as well as
the noble sentiments and conspicuous bravery which have marked our
family from Saxon times, as I was well accustomed to pour forth for
the edification of our nursemaids. I had not proceeded far, when my
new friend said, "Won't you walk in and take a seat?" It was
recreation time, and the other boys were all out in the playground. I
had no special friend as yet; Rupert had stuck to me all the first
day, and had now left me to find my own level. I had lingered near the
door as we came out, and there Weston had joined me. He now led me
back into the deserted school-room, and we sat down together on an old
black oak locker, a