LITMIR.BIZ

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is, I flatter myself. I've long had the idea, but I should never have worked it out and found the value of it but for Grey. I invented it to coach him in his history. You see we are in the Grecian corner. Over there is the Roman. You'll find Livy and Tacitus worked out there, just as Herodotus and Thucydides are here; and the pins are stuck for the Second Punic War, where we are just now. I shouldn't wonder if Grey got his first, after all, he's picking up so quick in my corners; and says he never forgets any set of events when he has picked them out with the pins."

      "Is he working at that school still?" asked Tom.

      "Yes, as hard as ever. He didn't go down for the vacation, and I really believe it was because the curate told him the school would go wrong if he went away."

      "It's very plucky of him, but I do think he's a great fool not to knock it off now till he has passed, don't you?"

      "No," said Hardy; "he is getting more good there than he can ever get in the schools, though I hope he'll do well in them too."

      "Well, I hope so; for he deserves it. And now, Hardy, to change the subject, I am going to give my first wine next Thursday; and here's the first card which has gone out for it. You'll promise me to come now, won't you?"

      "What a hurry you're in." said Hardy, taking the card which he put on his mantel-piece, after examining it.

      "But you'll promise to come, now?"

      "I'm very hard at work; I can't be sure."

      "You needn't stay above half an hour. I've brought back some famous wine from the governor's cellar; and I want so to get you and Jervis together. He is sure to come."

      "Why, that's the bell for chapel beginning already," said Hardy; "I had no notion it was so late. I must be off, to put the new servitor up to his work. Will you come in after hall?"

      "Yes if you will come to me next Thursday."

      "We'll talk about it. But mind you come to-night; for you'll find me working Grey in the Punic wars, and you'll see how the pins act. I'm very proud of my show."

      And so Hardy went off to chapel, and Tom to Drysdale's rooms, not at all satisfied that he had made Hardy safe. He found Drysdale lolling on his sofa, as usual, and fondling Jack. He had just arrived, and his servant and the scout were unpacking his portmanteaus. He seemed pleased to see Tom, but looked languid and used up.

      "Where have you been this vacation?" said Tom; "you look seedy."

      "You may say that," said Drysdale. "Here, Henry, get out a bottle of Schiedam. Have a taste of bitters? there's nothing like it to set one's digestion right."

      "No, thank'ee," said Tom, rejecting the glass which Henry proffered him; "my appetite don't want improving."

      "You're lucky, then," said Drysdale. "Ah, that's the right stuff! I feel better already."

      "But where have you been?"

      "Oh, in the little village. It's no use being in the country at this time of year. I just went up to Limmer's, and there I stuck, with two or three more, till to-day."

      "I can't stand London for more than a week," said Tom. "What did you do all the day?"

      "We hadn't much to say to day-light" said Drysdale. "What with theatres, and sparing-cribs and the Coal-hole and Cider-cellars, and a little play in St. James's Street now and then, one wasn't up to early rising. However, I was better than the rest, for I had generally breakfasted by two o'clock."

      "No wonder you look seedy. You'd much better have been in the country."

      "I should have been more in pocket, at any rate," said Drysdale. "By Jove, how it runs away with the ready! I'm fairly cleaned out; and if I haven't luck at Van John, I'll be hanged if I know how I'm to get through term. But, look here, here's a bundle of the newest songs – first rate, some of them." And he threw some papers across to Tom, who glanced at them without being at all edified.

      "You're going to pull regularly, I hope, this term, Drysdale."

      "Yes, I think so; it's cheap amusement, and I want a little training for a change."

      "That's all right."

      "I've brought down some dresses for our gipsy business, by the way. I didn't forget that. Is Blake back?"

      "I don't know," said Tom; "but we shan't have time before the races."

      "Well afterwards will do; though the days oughtn't to be too long. I'm all for a little darkness in masquerading."

      "There's five o'clock striking. Are you going to dine in hall?"

      "No; I shall go to the Mitre, and get a broil."

      "Then I'm off. Let's see, – will you come and wine with me next Thursday?"

      "Yes; only send us a card, 'to remind.'"

      "All right!" said Tom, and went off to hall, feeling dissatisfied and uncomfortable about his fast friend, for whom he had a sincere regard.

      After hall, Tom made a short round amongst his acquaintance, and then, giving himself up to the strongest attraction, returned to Hardy's rooms, comforting himself with the thought that it really must be an act of Christian charity to take such a terrible reader off his books for once in a way, when his conscience pricked him for intruding on Hardy during his hours of work. He found Grey there, who was getting up his Roman history, under Hardy's guidance; and the two were working the pins on the maps and lists in the Roman corner when Tom arrived. He begged them not to stop, and very soon was as much interested in what they were doing as if he also were going into the schools in May; for Hardy had a way of throwing life into what he was talking about, and, like many men with strong opinions, and passionate natures, either carried his hearers off their legs and away with him altogether, or aroused every spark of combativeness in them. The latter was the effect which his lecture on the Punic Wars had on Tom. He made several protests as Hardy went on; but Grey's anxious looks kept him from going fairly into action, till Hardy stuck the black pin, which represented Scipio, triumphantly in the middle of Carthage, and, turning round said, "And now for some tea, Grey, before you have to turn out."

      Tom opened fire while the tea was brewing.

      "You couldn't say anything bad enough about aristocracies this morning, Hardy, and now to-night you are crowing over the success of the heaviest and cruelest oligarchy that ever lived, and praising them up to the skies."

      "Hullo! here's a breeze!" said Hardy, smiling; "but I rejoice, O Brown, in that they thrashed the Carthaginians, and not, as you seem to think, in that they being aristocrats, thrashed the Carthaginians; for oligarchs they were not at this time."

      "At any rate they answer to the Spartans in the struggle, and the Carthaginians to the Athenians; and yet all your sympathies are with the Romans to-night in the Punic Wars, though they were with the Athenians before dinner."

      "I deny your position. The Carthaginians were nothing but a great trading aristocracy – with a glorious family or two I grant you, like that of Hannibal; but, on the whole, a dirty, bargain-driving, buy-cheap-and-sell-dear aristocracy – of whom the world was well rid. They like the Athenians indeed! Why, just look what the two people have left behind them-"

      "Yes," interrupted Tom; "but we only know the Carthaginians through the reports of their destroyers. Your heroes trampled them out with hoofs of iron."

      "Do you think the Roman hoof could have trampled out their Homer if they ever had one?" said Hardy. "The Romans conquered Greece too, remember."

      "But Greece was never so near beating them."

      "True. But I hold to my point. Carthage was the mother of all huxters, compassing sea and land to sell her wares."

      "And no bad line of life for a nation. At least Englishmen ought to think so."

      "No they ought not; at least if 'Punica fides' is to be the rule of trade. Selling any amount of Brummagem wares never did nation or man much good, and never will. Eh, Grey?"

      Grey winced at being appealed to, but remarked that he hoped the Church would yet be able to save England from the fate of Tyre or Carthage, the great trading nations of the old world; and then, swallowing his tea, and looking

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