favourites of Nature both, man and dog. You had but to glance at
Percival St. John to know at once that he was of the race that toils not;
the assured step spoke confidence in the world's fair smile. No care for
the morrow dimmed the bold eye and the radiant bloom.

About the middle height,--his slight figure, yet undeveloped, seemed not
to have attained to its full growth,--the darkening down only just shaded
a cheek somewhat sunburned, though naturally fair, round which locks
black as jet played sportively in the fresh air; about him altogether
there was the inexpressible charm of happy youth. He scarcely looked
sixteen, though above four years older; but for his firm though careless
step, and the open fearlessness of his frank eye, you might have almost
taken him for a girl in men's clothes,--not from effeminacy of feature,
but from the sparkling bloom of his youth, and from his unmistakable
newness to the cares and sins of man. A more delightful vision of
ingenuous boyhood opening into life under happy auspices never inspired
with pleased yet melancholy interest the eye of half-envious, half-
pitying age.

"And that," mused Percival St. John,--"that is London! Oh for the Diable
Boiteux to unroof me those distant houses, and show me the pleasures that
lurk within! Ah, what long letters I shall have to write home! How the
dear old captain will laugh over them, and how my dear good mother will
put down her work and sigh! Home!--um, I miss it already. How strange
and grim, after all, the huge city seems!"

His glove fell to the ground, and his spaniel mumbled it into shreds.
The young man laughed, and throwing himself on the grass, played gayly
with the dog.