Byron, one day, seeing him bullied by a boy much older and stronger
than himself, interfered and took his part. The next day, as the
little fellow was standing alone, Byron came to him and said,
"Harness, if any one bullies you, tell me, and I'll thrash him, if I
can." The young champion kept his word, and they were from this time,
notwithstanding the difference of their ages, inseparable friends. A
coolness, however, subsequently arose between them, to which, and to
the juvenile friendship it interrupted, Lord Byron, in a letter
addressed to Harness six years afterwards, alludes with so much kindly
feeling, so much delicacy and frankness, that I am tempted to
anticipate the date of the letter, and give an extract from it here.

"We both seem perfectly to recollect, with a mixture of pleasure and
regret, the hours we once passed together, and I assure you, most
sincerely, they are numbered among the happiest of my brief chronicle
of enjoyment. I am now _getting into years_, that is to say, I was
_twenty_ a month ago, and another year will send me into the world to
run my career of folly with the rest. I was then just fourteen,--you
were almost the _first_ of my Harrow friends, certainly the first in
my esteem, if not in date; but an absence from Harrow for some time,
shortly after, and new connections on your side, and the difference in
our conduct (an advantage decidedly in your favour) from that
turbulent and riotous disposition of mine, which impelled me into
every species of mischief,--all these circumstances combined to
destroy an intimacy, which affection urged me to continue, and memory
compels me to regret. But there is not a circumstance attending that
period, hardly a sentence we exchanged, which is not impressed on my
mind at this moment. I need not say more,--this assurance alone must
convince you, had I considered them as trivial, they would have been
less indelible. How well I recollect the perusal of your 'first