fear lest we should be instantly executed. Nothing so dreadful happened.
The other boy was put into communication with his friends, and I had a
long holiday. By and by, under the charge of a friend, I returned to
Guildford to make explanation and excuse. That done, I went visiting more
relations at Cheltenham--I had a lot altogether, you see!--and there I
was brought under the influence of Whately, later the renowned Archbishop
of Dublin.'

The boyish spirit kept alive in Sir George, and in that respect he had a
surpassing encounter. He spent holiday hours in the Natural History
Museum at South Kensington, near which he resided after leaving St.
James's. There was hardly an animal, or bird, that he could not instruct
you upon; but his delight was to watch the streams of happy visitors. As
he sat thus of an afternoon, half a dozen boys gathered round a specimen
from animal-land placed near by.

Boys have few doubts, but these lads had theirs as to the identity of the
beast. They noticed Sir George, and a delegate approached him with the
request, 'Please, sir, can you tell us the name of this creature?' He
turned in the direction indicated, and found, strangely enough, that the
specimen was one which he had sent home from the far south, during his
naturalist's work there. He named it, and the lad followed up, 'Where did
it come from?'; getting the answer.

Next, 'Who killed it?' A pucker gathered upon Sir George's face, and he
hesitated, arguing with himself, 'If I tell them, they'll think me an
impostor, and even discount the information I have given them.'

But the inquisitor waited, and Sir George could do no better than
'Frankly, you know, I believe I killed it myself.'