onsolation did his mother receive from this conviction. Young
Wilkinson was a very handsome lad, and grew up to be a handsome man;
but his beauty was of that regular sort which is more pleasing in a
boy than in a man. He also was an excellent lad, and no parent could
be so thankless as to be other than proud of him. All men said all
good things of him, so that Mr. Wilkinson could not but be contented.
Nevertheless, one would always wish to see one's own son not less
bright than one's friend's son.

Arthur Wilkinson was also sent to Winchester. Perhaps it would have
been better for the cousins that they should have gone to different
schools. The matter, however, had been left to Mr. Wilkinson, and
as he thought Winchester good for his own son, he naturally thought
the same school good for Sir Lionel's son. But Bertram was entered
as a commoner, whereas Wilkinson was in the college. Those who know
Winchester will understand, that though, as regarded school business
and school hours, they were at the same establishment, they were not
together at the much more important hours of eating, sleeping, and
playing. They did not cease to be friends, but they did cease to
live together as friends generally do live when educated at the same
school.

At Winchester they both did fairly well; but Bertram did much the
best. He got the prizes, whereas his cousin did but nearly get them.
He went up from class to class above the other, and when the last
tussle for pride of place came on at the close of their boyish
career, Bertram was the victor. He stood forth to spout out Latin
hexameters, and to receive the golden medal, while Wilkinson had no
other privilege but to sit still and listen to them.

I believe masters but seldom recognize the agony of spirit with which
boys endure being beaten in these contests. Boys on such subjects
are very reticent; they hardly understand their own feelings enough
to speak of them, and are too much accustomed both to ridicule and
censure to look anywhere for sympathy. A favourite sister may perhaps
be told of the hard struggle and the bitter failure, but not a word
is said to any one else. His father, so thinks the boy, is angry at
his failure; and even his mother's kisses will hardly be warmed by
such a subject. We are too apt to think that if our children eat
pudding and make a noise they require no sympathy. A boy may fail at
school, and afterwards eat much pudding, and make much noise; but,
ah! h