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 ;\\
 
 STORY OE A GEIIUS; 
 
 COLA MONTI. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 •*HOW TO WIN LOVE," "MICHAEL THE MINER," ETC 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 D. APPLETON AND OOMPANT, 
 
 846 & 34S BROADWAY. 
 M.DOOO.LVn.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. FASB 
 
 THE NEW PUPIL 5 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 A SHOKT ONE, SHOWING HOW COLA GOT ON 
 
 AT SCHOOL 17 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 cola's revenge 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DISCOVERT 35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 HdtlDAYS AT SCHOOL ... .42 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE TOUNG CARICATURIST . . . 61 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN . 58 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A PLAN, AND HOW IT SUCCEEDED . . 68 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE END OF COLA's SCHOOL-DAYS . . . ■»■ 77 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD .... 85 
 
 *^ a_J f'jMi 'O ««-> *-*
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL page 
 
 AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW LIGHT . . 99 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 HELP IN SEASON 109 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 LAYING THE FIRST STICK IN THE NEST . 118 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SIX months' HISTORY . . . • 126 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HOW A BRIGHT MORNING WALK PRODUCED A 
 
 BRIGHT THOUGHT . . . .132 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HOW COLA, TRYING HIS FEET, FOUND HE COULD 
 
 WALK ALONE 141 
 
 , CHAPTER XVII. 
 A LECTURE ON HIGH ART .... 151 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 SHOWING THAT PROSPERITY HAS ITS DANGERS 159 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A TIME OF DARKNESS 166 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 JOY AT LAST 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE story's end, BUT THE REAL LIFE's 
 
 BEGINNING . . ' . • • .178
 
 STORT OF A GENIUS. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE NEW PtTPIL 
 
 " Here is a new schoolfellow for you, my 
 boys," said Doctor Birch, as he entered the 
 playground, where his " limited number of 
 pupils" were assembled, leading by the hand 
 the last addition to the flock. 
 
 Now Doctor Birch, in spite of his unfortu- 
 nate name, Avas the very best of pedagogues. 
 He was by no means an old man, for his doc- 
 tor's honors had come very early upon him. 
 A tall, awkward frame ; a face which could 
 look severe, and ugly too, at times, though it 
 was very pleasant when he smiled ; and an 
 accent in which the strong Northumbrian burr 
 bespoke his Northern birtn, complete the de- 
 scription of the good doctor. 
 
 The boy whom he led was about twelve 
 1*
 
 6 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 yeara old, at least you would have thought so 
 by his face ; but he was small, slight, and 
 delicate in figure. His clear skin, of a pale 
 olive, had none of the ruddy glow which man- 
 tled on the cheeks of the other boys ; and his 
 large dark eyes wandered restlessly from one 
 to the other of the frolicsome group, whose 
 game of leap-frog had thus been interrupted. 
 
 " Now, boys, be kind and considerate to 
 this little fellow," said Doctor Birch. "He 
 has never been to school before, and he is 
 a stranger. Never mind, my young friend, 
 you'll soon get acquainted with them all," 
 continued he, as he patted the child's crisp 
 black curls, and strode off out of the play- 
 ground with his careless shambling gait. 
 
 The little fellow stood timidly in the midst 
 of his new playfellows, who gathered round him 
 like a swarm of bees. 
 
 " Well, young one !" said the biggest boy, 
 the dux of the school, "let's set to business. 
 What 's your name ?" 
 
 " Niccolo Fiorentino del Monti." 
 
 " Eh ! Nick what ?" cried the inquii-er, open- 
 ing his eyes with astonishment. 
 
 "Niccolo Fiorentino del Monti," repeated 
 the new comer, drawing himself up with a
 
 THE NEW PUPIL. 7 
 
 slight gesture of pride ; and dwelling on the 
 soft liquid Italian syllables, as if he thought the 
 name both honorable and beautiful. 
 
 All the boys set up a loud laugh. 
 
 " Why, what a strange fish of a foreigner 
 the old doctor has caught !" cried one. 
 
 " My little fellow, we shall have to teach 
 you English," said another, taking the child by 
 the arm. But Niccolo anginly shook off the 
 rude touch ; and the warm Italian blood rushed 
 to his dark cheek, as he answered with a for- 
 eign accent, but distinctly enough to be under- 
 stood : — 
 
 " Thank you, I can speak English ; my 
 mother taught me : she came from your 
 country." 
 
 " Oh ! she was an Englishwoman then," 
 said Morris Woodhouse, the dux, and inquisi- 
 tor-general over all new boys. " And I sup. 
 pose she married some poor Italian fiddler." 
 
 " My father was no fiddler," answered Nic- 
 colo, his black eyes flashing fire. " He was a 
 Count, and his family were princes once. 
 They lived in a beautiful jmlazzo ; my nurse 
 Mona used to show me the walls. I come o. 
 the noble family of the Monti." 
 
 " Bravo ! my little prince !" cried Morris,
 
 8 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 laughing immoderately. " And, pray, how 
 happened it that your small lordship came 
 over here ?" 
 
 '• Because my father died, and — But I 
 will not answer any more questions : you are 
 very cruel to me, you rude English boys, rag- 
 azzaccj Inglesi" answered the poor little fellow 
 in his distress, using his own language to ex- 
 press his feelings. 
 
 " I suppose rag — what 's the rest of it ? — 
 means rascal ; and I should like to know how 
 any imp of a foreigner dare call me ' rascal.' 
 Mind what you're about, my young prince," 
 said Morris, flourishing his stick very near lit- 
 tle Niccolo's head. The other boys looked on, 
 not daring to interfere with one who, by his 
 cleverness and his fighting capabilities, had 
 got to be dux in the schoolroom, and tyrant in 
 the playground. At last, one of the later 
 comers, who did not stand so much in fear of 
 him, took hold of Morris's arm. 
 
 " Come, come, Woodhouse ! you are playing 
 the same game with this young — what 's the 
 lad's name ? — that you did with me a month 
 ago ; and I must say it 's rather cowardly, con- 
 sidering he is such a little fellow." 
 
 " Don't interfere, my lad," said the big
 
 THE NEW PUPIL. 9 
 
 boy, with a patronizing air. " I 'm the king 
 of the school, as you very well know. You 
 have not forgotten the thrashing I gave you, 
 Archibald McKaye ? Walk off, will you? 
 and let me finish this small frog of a French. 
 man." 
 
 " I am no Frenchman ! I am an Italian ! 
 and that is quite as good as a great ugly bad 
 Englishman, like you !" cried Niccolo, boldly ; 
 ending his speech with a torrent of angry ap- 
 pellations, in his Southern tongue. 
 
 Morris was now thoroughly getting into a 
 passion ; and the uplifted stick would have 
 fallen heavily on the child's head, had not 
 Archibald caught it, and turned it aside. 
 
 " Wont you hear reason, Morris, and let 
 that boy alone ?" he said. 
 
 " Hear reason ! hear reason from you ! you 
 long solemn-faced Scotch fellow, with a tongue 
 as harsh as a crow ? You preach reason to 
 me ! Get away, or I '11 thrash you again !" 
 
 " Try !" said Archibald, quietly : while a 
 faint murmur of " Shame ! shame !" rose up 
 from some of the boys ; and Niccolo crept be- 
 hind his brave defender, and peeped over 
 McKaye's shoulder at the king of the school. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you '11 fight me
 
 10 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 again ?" said the latter, somewhat surprised at 
 the boy's resolute attitude. 
 
 " Yes, if you don't treat this lad civilly. I 
 don't see why he should be bullied because he 
 happens to be a foreigner, and a stranger." 
 
 " A sthranger indeed !" said Morris, mimic- 
 ing Archibald's accent. "And so you intend 
 to fight his battles, because he is a sthranger, 
 like yourself?" 
 
 "Yes," again said Archibald. He was al- 
 ways a quiet boy, and one of few words. But 
 there was a firmness and determination in his 
 manner, that showed, when once roused, he 
 was not soon willing to yield. The two lads 
 took off their jackets, and prepared for a regu- 
 lar combat, schoolboy fashion, to settle the 
 point, vi et armis. This is the only way in 
 which boys can settle their disputes, and will 
 do as long as the world lasts. Before they 
 commenced, McKaye turned round to the 
 others. 
 
 " Now, fellows, you all see what I am fight- 
 ing for : just doing for this youngster what 
 some of you should have done for me when I 
 came ; instead of which, you all set to work 
 abusing me. Morris beat me before ; we 'II 
 see if he does this time : but either way, I have
 
 THE NEW PUPIL. H 
 
 got the right on my side. Now set to as soon 
 as you like." 
 
 Archibald shook back his fair curling hair, 
 threw his spare but active figure into a posture 
 of defence ; and looked what he was — a fine 
 bold young mountaineer, from the land of 
 Wallace and of Bruce. 
 
 The boys formed the circle, and " Bravo, 
 Morris !" *' Try it again, Mac !" showed the 
 deep interest they took in the combat. It was 
 a trial of right against might ; and many of 
 those who had suffered from Morris's overbear- 
 ing character were only deterred by the still 
 doubtful issue of the battle, from showing how 
 strongly they felt with the only one who had 
 dared to oppose justice to tyranny. 
 
 Meanwhile, the little Italian crept aloof, and 
 wondered if all English welcomes were like 
 this, and whether English boys always fought 
 in this fashion. The poor little fellow's 
 thoughts went back to his own sunny garden, 
 where he used to sleep away the day under 
 the orange-trees, with the clear sky of Rome 
 above him, and his nurse beside him, with 
 her soft Italian ditties, and her sVories of the 
 ancient glory of the Monti. Then he woke 
 from this reverie to find himself in the dull
 
 12 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 playground with its high walls shutting out 
 everything but the cold grey English sky. 
 
 The fight terminated as contests do not al- 
 ways end — the right won. Archibald's skilful 
 wrestling gained the victory over Morris's 
 heavy blows, and the latter was laid prostrate 
 on the ground. Half the boys raised a cry of 
 triumph and congratulation to the victor ; the 
 others were still too much afraid of their fallen 
 enemy, and kept a doubtful silence. McKaye 
 lifted up his adversary, saw that he was not 
 hurt, and then was well content to let him re- 
 tire with a few obsequious friends to wash hia 
 face, and remove all traces of the battle before 
 he met the doctor's eye. 
 
 ''Your man has won, my little fellow," said 
 one of the boys, clapping Niccolo on the shoul- 
 der. " O be joyful ! you wont get any more 
 abuse from Morris Woodhouse. Mac haa 
 fought it out for you. Are you not much 
 obliged to him ?" 
 
 " I am, indeed I am !" cried the young Ital- 
 ian ; and, warm and impassioned in all his 
 impulses, he ran to Archibald, seized his hand, 
 kissed it, and poured forth a stream of grateful 
 thanks. 
 
 But the quiet, reserved Archibald drew hia
 
 THE NEW PUPIL. 13 
 
 nand away : he saw the other boys beginning 
 to laugh, and a natural shyness caused him to 
 dislike being made the subject of such passion- 
 ate gratitude. 
 
 " There, that will do, my boy ; you need 
 not say so much ; I only fought for you be- 
 cause you were too little to fight for yourself. 
 . Only mind not to vex Morris another time." 
 
 The warm-hearted Italian shrunk back, with 
 the tears standing in his eyes. He did not 
 speak to McKaye again until the dinner-bell 
 had rang, and all the other boys had rushed 
 into the house. Archibald stayed behind, 
 rubbing the mud from his jacket, when Niccolo 
 crept up to him and offered to assist. 
 
 " What, little one, is that you ?" said McKaye. 
 " Come, then ; you may as well help to set me 
 to rights again." 
 
 " I should have come before, but that I 
 thought you were angry with me." 
 
 " Angry ! Oh, no ! Only I did not quite 
 like being made a fool of before the bays with 
 your kissing my hand. We don't do it here : 
 but I suppose it was only your Italian fashion." 
 
 " I cannot do anything right," sighed the 
 poor child. " Ah, England is a strange place. 
 I shall never be happy here." 
 
 2
 
 14 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " Oil, but you will in time, when you have 
 got accustomed to us all. I had to go through 
 just the same ; for I am a stranger, like you, 
 as, I dare say, you heard Morris say. The 
 mean fellow, he is always taunting me with 
 my country and my tongue, as if a Scotsman 
 were not as good as an Englishman every 
 inch : ay, and better too," said Archibald, 
 compressing his lips, and clenching his hands, 
 in ill-concealed indignation. " But, come, 
 little fellow ; this does not much interest you, 
 so we '11 go in to dinner." 
 
 " I am afi-aid," murmured Niccolo, shrink- 
 ing back. 
 
 " Pshaw ! What are you afraid of? Morris 
 wont eat you. Come." 
 
 But the child still hung back, and at last 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh, I wish I were in my own dear Italy ! 
 I am so miserable," he sobbed. " Oh that I 
 could go home !" 
 
 There was something in the boy's desolate 
 condition that touched Archibald's heart. He 
 thought of his own far off home, which he dearly 
 loved, and felt compassion for the poor Italian 
 thus alone in a strange land. He laid his hand 
 on Niccolo's shoulder, and his tones lost their
 
 THE NEW PUPIL. 15 
 
 schoolboy roughness, and became modulated 
 to the tenderness of a girl. 
 
 " Don't cry, there 's a good fellow, don't now ! 
 I'll take care of you. We are both strangers 
 here ; and we '11 both fight our way together 
 Come, we shall be excellent friends, I know." 
 
 Niccolo dried his tears, and looked gratefully 
 in the face of the elder boy. 
 
 " There, now, that 's right," said McKaye. 
 "Be a man, my little- fellow. And, by the 
 bye, what shall I call you ? I cannot remem- 
 ber that long, fine-sounding name of yours." 
 
 The other smiled. " My nurse used to call 
 me Nicoletto, and Nicolettino. Is that too 
 long ?" 
 
 Archibald shook his head : " I am afraid it 
 is. Besides, the boys will laugh at it, and call 
 you Nick, and Old Nick, but you don't under- 
 stand this, I see," added he, laughing. " Well, 
 can't you think of another name ? You seem 
 to have plenty to spare." 
 
 My father always called me Cola; and I 
 like that name best too." 
 
 "Cola, Cola. Aye, that will do very well. 
 And now, friend Cola, let me give you one 
 piece of advice : Say as little as ye can about 
 your father, the Count, and the princes, your
 
 16 STORY OF A GENnrS. 
 
 ancestors, and all that sort of thing ; you wilt 
 only get laughed at for it here. I think I have 
 myself as long a pedigree as most people, and 
 am rather proud of it too ; but I never talk 
 about it ; and you had better follow my exam- 
 ple. That is the first thing for you to remem- 
 ber ; and I '11 tell you a few others by and bye. 
 Now let us go in to dinner."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SHORT ONE, SHOWING HOW COLA GOT ON 
 AT SCHOOL. 
 
 It is astonishing what an effect one good ex- 
 ample has sometimes. When Cola, as we shall 
 henceforth call him, was again left in the 
 power of his new schoolmates, during the hour 
 between supper and bed-time, no one attempted 
 to ill-ti'eat him, or ventured more than a few 
 harmless jokes at his quaint accent and man- 
 ners. True, these were very annoying to the 
 boy, who was alike proud and shy, and had 
 , Been brought up as the only son of a noble 
 family, always treated with respect. More tlian 
 once he looked appealingly at his protector 
 McKaye ; but Archibald seemed not disposed 
 to extend his championship further than was 
 absolutely required. He quietly left Cola to 
 make his own way with the boys, and find his 
 own level. This was indeed the wisest course 
 for both the protector and the protected. 
 
 Morris Woodhouse sat sullenly aloof. His 
 2*
 
 18 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 authority had been shaken for the first time, 
 and he felt proportionably humbled. The 
 " king of the school" trembled on his throne. 
 Some few stings of conscience mingled with 
 his vexation ; for Morris was not on the whole - 
 a bad boy, only he had that love of power 
 which seems inherent in the nature of boys 
 and men, and often degenerates into the most 
 barefaced tyranny. Yet there were some few 
 in the school who rather liked him than other- 
 wise ; for he had a careless generosity, and, 
 moreover, being a rich man's son, had where- 
 withal to exercise it. The lovers of cake and 
 playthings always stood by Morris Woodhouse ; 
 and those quiet-tempered boys who would give 
 way to anybody, declared that he was a toler- 
 ably good fellow, so long as you did not con- ^ 
 tradict him. These gathered round their fm.*^ 
 len master, and made a little conclave, while- 
 the more sturdy and independent sided with 
 McKaye. Thus the school bade fair to become 
 divided into two distinct and warring factions. 
 Both parties went to bed, each in stern indigna- 
 tion with the other. So en£frossin" was this 
 warfare that nobody thought of playing off on 
 young Cola the usual tricks which mark the 
 receptiou of the " new boy." Consequently
 
 COLA AT SCHOOL. 19 
 
 thfe Italian crept into his bed without finding 
 the blankets sewed up, or a furze-bush for his 
 bed-fellow, or any of those agreeable con- 
 trivances for making a new-comer as misera- 
 ble as possible. And .thus passed Cola's first 
 day at schoool. 
 
 It was a great and painful change to the 
 young foreigner, from the pleasant southern 
 home, of which he dared not speak, to the re- 
 straints of an English school. The long hours 
 of study were irksome to him beyond expres- 
 sion ; more especially as he then felt acutely 
 his own ignorance. His class-fellows were the 
 youngest boys in the school ; and Cola's idle 
 and desultory habits seemed to foretell that it 
 would be a long time before he got above them. 
 Every day he cried over the easiest lessons ; 
 and then- the other boys laughed at him, and 
 his breast boiled with anger, until he was well- 
 nigh playing toward his junior class-mates the 
 same ungenerous part which Morris Wood- 
 house had tried to exercise against himself. 
 The tyrant and the slave are often distinguished 
 by circumstances alone. 
 
 Sometimes, in his distress. Cola would go to 
 his old friend Archibald. But McKaye had 
 study enough of his own ; though diligent and
 
 20 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 hardworking, he was not a quick boy, and il 
 annoyed him to be disturbed. 
 
 ** Get some one else to help you, Cola," he 
 would say. " Why do n't you go to Morris ? 
 He always does his work quickly, and has 
 plenty of time to spare." 
 
 But Cola would rather have endured Dr. 
 Birch's cane every day of his life, than have 
 been indebted to Morris for anything under 
 the sun. All the burning feelings of his 
 Italian nature were concentrated in hatred of 
 the boy who had first insulted him. Long 
 after the feud had been healed, and the result 
 of Archibald's battle only remained in the bet- 
 ter behavior of Woodhouse towards his school- 
 mates, Cola nourished his angry feelings in 
 secret, and lost no opportunity of showing 
 them. 
 
 And with these feelings of personal dislike 
 were united others, which might almost be 
 said to take their rise in the best emotions of 
 his nature : so much are good and evil some- 
 times mingled. The more Cola loved Archi- 
 bald, the more he hated Morris. These two 
 boys seemed made to be rivals in everything. 
 McKaye's steady persevei'ance kept pace 
 with Morris's talents ; and while the latter was
 
 COLA AT SCHOOL. 21 
 
 first in the class, Archibald always contrived 
 to be second. The same rivalry extended to 
 the playground, where Woodhouse for the 
 first time found an opponent equal in strength 
 and activity to himself Strange to say, while 
 the whole school was divided by partisanship, 
 the two leaders got on very well together; 
 and though rivals, bore no personal hatred to 
 each other. The reason of this was probably 
 because McKaye was what boys call, " a 
 quiet sort of a fellow," who did not much care 
 to get the upper hand, provided he was not 
 trampled upon ; and moreover, because Mor- 
 ris's natural good temper was not proof 
 against the frank open way in which this war 
 of emulation was carried on by his school- 
 mate. 
 
 But all this did not hinder the others from 
 many contests on the subject of their two 
 companions ; for there is nothing boys like so 
 well as warfare. They must fight for a good 
 cause, a bad cause, and no cause at all, it 
 matters little ; and of all these young belliger- 
 ents. Cola Monti was the warmest. Every 
 triumph of Morris's over Archibald, gave him 
 the keenest indignation ; every wrong done to 
 his friend, he felt like an insult to himself.
 
 22 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Passionate in all his emotions, the Italian 
 would have clone anything to injure Morris, or 
 to serve Archibald. 
 
 McKaye took all this wild affection with the 
 quietness of his nature. It was pleasant to 
 find all his books arranged, his room in order ; 
 and his garden attended to. Now and then he 
 thanked his little friend with a good-humored 
 smile and a kindly word. But all the under- 
 currents of the young Italian's feelings were 
 quite incomprehensible to him : indeed he 
 never sought to penetrate them. 
 
 Thus the half-year passed, and the mid- 
 summer holidays drew near, with the examin- 
 ation, which formed the grand epoch at Dr. 
 Birch's establishment. So important indeed 
 was it, that we must give it a new chapter.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 cola's revenge 
 
 " At what are you working away so hard, 
 Archy ?" whispered Cola to his friend, as he 
 came into the schoolroom, in the dusk of the 
 evening, and found McKaye in the midst of 
 his books, trying to make the most of what lit- 
 tle light there was. " Do come ; we are hav- 
 ing such a capital game at prisoners'-base." 
 
 *' I can't ! really I can't ! Now do go 
 away, there 's a good lad, and leave me to 
 finish this Greek exercise. You know it is 
 for the examination to-morrow." 
 
 " I thought you had done all your work." 
 
 " Yes, this is the last page of the book : I 
 must finish it. Here, fetch me that Lexicon, 
 and be off with you to play !" 
 
 Cola brought the book : but instead of going 
 away, he sat down quietly on a form opposite, 
 and watched the anxious countenance of Archi- 
 bald, who was at work so hard that he hardly 
 seemed to notice his presence
 
 24 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " It's no use, I can see no longer, and my 
 head aches badly enough," McKay e said at 
 last, throwing himself back, despondingly. 
 
 " How much have you left undone ?" said 
 Cola. 
 
 " Only one line : I can do that to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " Then come out and play !" 
 
 But Archy stretched himself wearily on the 
 bench. " No, no ! I am so tired ; and my 
 head is quite stupid with thinking about to- 
 naorrow. I wonder. Cola, how I shall stand 
 at this Greek examination ! there 's Foster, and 
 Williams, and Campion." 
 
 " They are all below you, as every one ac- 
 knowledges." 
 
 " Yes, all but Morris Woodhouse. Ah ! he 
 is sure to get the best : he is so clever. And 
 yet, I have worked so hard ; and I did want to 
 gain the Greek prize : it would please my 
 father very much. Well, well, it cannot be 
 helped." 
 
 Cola, as he sat in the twilight, clenched his 
 small hands, and knitted his brows ; the very 
 idea of Morris's gaining such a triumph was 
 scarcely endurable. " Archy," said he, " how
 
 cola's revenge. 25 
 
 do you know that ? how can you be sure tha+ 
 Morris will get it ?" 
 
 "Because the doctor is so particular about 
 Greek exercises, and Woodhouse's are alway? 
 so good : that will be the turning point, as al) 
 the boys say." 
 
 And just at this moment the quiet school 
 •room was entered by a troop of merry lads, riot 
 ous with the prospect of approaching holidays 
 
 " What, not done yet, McKay*". V cried one 
 
 " I 've done all my work i" " And I !' 
 " And I !" echoed several othf r'^. 
 
 " Now for it, let us see wli'^h is the bes'^ 
 Morris or McKaye !" said another boy, pulling 
 about the Greek books. " Here 's McKaye'^ 
 exercise. Now, Morris, let 's ha'-e yours." 
 
 " I have a good deal to do at mine yet," 
 answered Morris, carelessly. 
 
 " Ah ! that 's just like you ! you always 
 leave everything to the last." 
 
 " Because nothing gives me any tro-uble. I 
 can do in five minutes what it wouJd take you 
 fellows an hour, or McKaye there ei*.her," said 
 Woodhouse with a smile of conscious superior- 
 ity, which made Archy bite his lips in vexation, 
 and brought a throng of violent feelings to the 
 bosom of Cola. 
 
 3
 
 26 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " Well, well ! out with your exercise-bo>>ks, 
 and let us compare them," was the universal 
 cry. 
 
 So hard had McKaye worked, that, as far 
 as the boys could judge, there was little to 
 choose between the two, especially in the point 
 which struck their attention most, and about 
 which they knew the doctor was very partic- 
 ular — the clearness and distinctness of the 
 Greek characters, and the neatness of the 
 whole. 
 
 " Well — except that Woodhouse is the dux, 
 and has been longest at school, I should think 
 the doctor would be puzzled to decide," ac- 
 knowledged Forster, one of Morris's own ad- 
 herents : " It 's ' neck and neck,' as the jockeys 
 say." 
 
 " But Morris's exercise is not done yet," in- 
 terposed one on McKaye's side. " If he should 
 fail, you are sure of the prize, Archy." 
 
 " Don't trouble yourselves, my lads," said 
 Morris, loftily : " I am quite satisfied about the 
 matter myself" 
 
 " Well, take your books, fellows, and let us 
 leave the afl^air to the doctor, observed one of 
 the wisest of the group, who saw that the dis- 
 cussion was likely to become warm.
 
 cola's revenge. 27 
 
 " I shall leave mine here, and get up half 
 an hour earlier than usual to finish it," said 
 Morris, tossing the exercise-book down care- 
 lessly and walking away, the very picture of 
 self-satisfaction. He had too good an opinion 
 of his own merits to feel any anxiety about his, 
 success. While McKaye spent the evening, 
 until bedtime, in arranging his books, and poring 
 over everything with pale and anxious looks, 
 his rival laughed and whistled, and betted on 
 the different competitors beneath him with the 
 most perfect self-confidence. 
 
 There were many sleepless eyes that night 
 in the various dormitories where the doctor's 
 young flock were ranged. Each had a tiny 
 room to himself, so that all conversation on the 
 one grand subject ceased with the time of retir- 
 ing to rest ; otherwise the important matter of 
 the examination might have been talked over 
 until daylight. 
 
 But of all these restless young hearts, none 
 beat so violently as that of Cola. Gifted by 
 nature with a quality peculiar to his clime, — one 
 which in a good cause is called acuteness, in a 
 bad one, cunning, — the Italian revolved within 
 his mind every conceivable plan for effecting 
 the downfall of his enemy, and the consequent
 
 28 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 triumph of his friend. Accustomed from his 
 childhood to hear revenge talked of as a virtue, 
 especially when exercised on behalf of one 
 both dear and injured, Cola never thought for 
 a moment that he was doing anything wrong 
 in thus scheming against his schoolfellow. 
 When at last he hit upon a plan which seemed 
 likely to serve his purpose, he leaped out of 
 bed and danced about for joy, so that the 
 wakeful Archibald, called to him from the 
 next room to know what was the matter. 
 
 As soon as day began to peep, Cola rose, 
 dressed himself, and crept noiselessly down to 
 the schoolroom. It cost him a world of pains to 
 unfasten the shutters without making any 
 sound to disturb the family ; but he succeeded. 
 Then he hunted in the dim light for the exer- 
 cise books which had been left the night before ; 
 and seizing Morris's, he jumped out of the low 
 window, and ran like lightning through the 
 garden, to a paddock belonging to the house, 
 where there was a small pond. 
 
 The young conspirator had laid his plans 
 with a skill worthy of an older head, and with 
 ingenuity far too great for such an evil design. 
 He found a heavy stone, took some strong 
 twine out of his pocket, and carefully fastened
 
 cola's revenge. 29 
 
 the stone and tl'ie book together ; then he de- 
 liberately sank them both to the bottom of the 
 pond. 
 
 As Cola saw the book disappear, he clapped 
 his hands and set up a shout of delight. If it 
 had been poor Morris himself, instead of his 
 exercise-book, that had sunk beneath the deep 
 waters of the pond, the revengeful boy would 
 almost have done the same. And yet even 
 then, a feelinw of stronw and unselfish affection 
 half atoned for the wickedness of such thoughts. 
 
 " Archibald, amico mio caro, my dear 
 friend !" he murmured in his Italian tongue, 
 which he invariably used when excited, " it is 
 for you, all for you !" 
 
 And then a rustling in the bushes, probably 
 of some early bird, startled him ; he fled back 
 to the house, carefully fastened everything just 
 as he had found it, and crept into bed again, 
 just as the first sunshine of a midsummer 
 morning lighted up his I'oom. 
 
 Morris, with his usual heedlessness, did not 
 rise until there were but a few minutes left of 
 the half-hour which he had allowed himself to 
 finish the exercise. Then the book, of course, 
 could not be found. He searched every- 
 where, he blamed everybody, — except himself, 
 
 3*
 
 30 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 — but all to no purpose. Some of the most 
 good-natured of the boys helped him to look 
 for the missing book ; but others only jested 
 with him ; and not a few felt inwardly glad 
 that his self-assurance was thus brought low. 
 
 Meanwhile, Cola stood silent and aloof, his 
 triumphant eye alone showing how keen was 
 his delight in the scene. Only once he crept 
 quietly up to Archibald, who sat finishing the 
 last line of his task, without taking heed of 
 what was going on. 
 
 " Archy, dear Archy !" whispered he ; " do 
 you hear ? you will win now. Are you not 
 glad ?" 
 
 " Hush !" said McKaye when he compre- 
 hended the state of affairs. Do n't be so un- 
 generous. Cola." And he went up to Morris, 
 and tried to assist in the search ; but the other 
 repulsed him angrily. 
 
 " Do n't come here with your sanctified 
 face," cried Woodhouse, " I know you are 
 glad, heartily glad, as I should be, if I were 
 in your place. " Indeed, Morris, you are 
 wrong," began Archy. " I want no lies. 
 Get away with you !" was all the answer of 
 the angry and disappointed boy. 
 
 Archibald's face flushed, and he turned
 
 cola's revenge. 31 
 
 back. If Cola had then asked him, " Are you 
 glad ?" he could not honestly have replied, 
 " No !" It would have been against human 
 nature — against boyish nature, most of all. 
 
 The breakfast-bell rang, and all was over 
 with poor Morris, for immediately afterwards 
 the examination began. There was no hope 
 for the unfortunate dux in Doctor Birch's 
 angry brow : utterly unsuspicious of any de- 
 ception, the schoolmaster at once attributed the 
 loss of the book to carelessness. It annoyed 
 him ; for he was proud of his clever pupil, 
 who had always done credit to the school. 
 But there could be no doubt that the prize 
 was justly McKaye's. 
 
 " It might have been yours still, even had 
 Woodhouse not lost his book," said the candid 
 master, as he examined the carefully written 
 tasks before him. " You have done very 
 well, McKaye, and deserve your prize, that 
 is, to a certain extent ; but I wish the contest 
 could have been quite on fair ground." 
 
 " Are you not happy now ? whispered the 
 little Italian to his friend, when McKaye went 
 away with his prize. " Look at Morris : see, 
 he is white with rage. Oh how glad I am he 
 is beaten at last ! Are you not, Archy ?"
 
 32 STOEY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 There was a look on ]\IcKaye's face that 
 was not like perfect happiness. He was alike 
 too honest and loo proud to be quite contented 
 with such a doubtful triumph, a success on 
 sufferance. And when the boys gathered 
 round to see his prize, there was a jeering 
 smile in the countenances of some of Morris's 
 friends that vexed Archy much. He an- 
 swered Cola rather roughly — 
 
 " Do n't teaze me, Cola. I am not glad ; 
 and revenge is very dishonorable. I don't 
 want to be talked to. Do run away and play. 
 You see all the rest are going." 
 
 Cola looked at him with a mixture of sur- 
 prise, anger, and wounded feeling ; but he did 
 not speak until they were both alone in the 
 schoolroom. Then he said, — 
 
 " You are angry, you send me away ; and 
 yet you do not know what I have done for you." 
 
 " Nonsense, my boy : I think you are more 
 pleased at being revenged on Morris, than at 
 my getting the prize." 
 
 Cola drew up his slight small figure, and a 
 world of passionate feeling flashed from his 
 dark, brilliant, Italian eyes. 
 
 " You are right, Archy. I am glad to be 
 revenged : every one is — in my country. If
 
 cola's kevenge. 83 
 
 I had had Morris in Rome, I a man, and he 
 too ; we would have fought, and I would have 
 killed him." 
 
 Archibald turned away in disgust. His 
 calm temperament felt only horror at such 
 ideas, in a boy so young. " I tell you what, 
 Cola : if you do not take care, you will come 
 to be hanged." 
 
 " Shall I, shall I ?" cried the excited boy. 
 '^ And you, Archy, you talk so, when I did it 
 all for your sake ?" 
 "All! What?" 
 
 " I was determined you should have the 
 prize, and not Morris ; so I tied a stone to the 
 book, and I sank it into the pond." 
 
 Archibald looked at his companion with the 
 utmost surprise. " How dared you venture 
 such a thing ? Are you not ashamed of your- 
 self?" 
 
 " Not in the least. I loved you and I hated 
 ' him ; so I did what was right, and I got what 
 I wanted." 
 
 Archibald, utterly confounded by the boy's 
 confession, and by the sudden revulsion of 
 feeling it occasioned, sank down on a seat, and 
 remained for several minutes without uttering 
 a word. It Avas a trying position for the poor
 
 34 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 boy to be placed in. He had struggled so 
 hard to win this prize, he felt that he deserved 
 it ; and yet every honorable feeling in his 
 bosom rebelled against keeping that which had 
 been gained by a mean trick. Then on the 
 other hand, if he declared the truth, it would 
 lieap disgrace and punishment upon Cola, who 
 had erred chiefly through love of him. Wliile 
 Archibald's reason condemned the act, his 
 feelings whispered that it was not so bad after 
 all. No one would ever know it ; it would 
 please his father so much to see the bright sil- 
 ver inkstand, as a token of his son's diligence. 
 While McKaye's thoughts took this turn, he 
 lifted up his eyes to the so-longed-for treas- 
 ure : they rested on the doctor's favorite 
 motto, which he had caused to be engraved 
 on it — 
 
 ^^Ante omnia Veritas,'^ " Truth above all 
 things." It went to the boy's heart with a 
 conviction and force that were irresistible. 
 
 " It is of no use, I cannot keep it," cried 
 he ; and without another look at his prize, he 
 rushed out of the room. Cola heard his steps 
 along the hall, his tremulous knock at the doc- 
 tor's study door, and felt that all was over. 
 The plan of revenge had failed.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DISCOVERT. 
 
 In the afternoon the boys were startled from 
 their holiday sports by a general summons to 
 Doctor Birch's study. All went with consid- 
 erable surprise : Cola in fear, anger, and mor- 
 tification. For a long time he could not be- 
 lieve that Archibald had really betrayed him ; 
 and in his ardent nature, the feeling of wounded 
 affection almost overpowered his hatred to- 
 wards Morris. 
 
 " Young gentlemen," said the schoolmaster, 
 in his gravest tones, " I have sent for you to 
 speak about a story which has reached my 
 ears, concerning the Greek prize. You all 
 know that it was given to Archibald McKaye, 
 in consequence of Morris Wood house's book 
 having been lost : thereby leaving Archibald, 
 as second boy, the sole competitor. Now 
 McKayc, with an honesty and generosity which 
 I am sure you will respect as much as I do, 
 tells me that the book was lost intentionally;
 
 36 STORY OF A GENItrS. 
 
 in fact, taken by another school-fellow, who 
 desired to injure Woodhouse. The name of 
 this boy McKaye has entreated me not to in- 
 quire : nor do I wish to know ; not for the sake 
 of the culprit, but out of regard to the gener- 
 ous scruples of Archibald. Now, young gen- 
 tlemen, what I wish to say is this : that as 
 honesty, justice, and truth are above all, I 
 have accepted McKaye's resignation of this 
 prize. Although it cannot be given to Wood- 
 house, it will remain in my hands for compe- 
 tition at the next half-year.. And as to the 
 unknown culprit, who stands among you, 1 
 make no inquiries, leaving him to the re- 
 proaches of his own conscience. But 1 shall 
 carefully watch the conduct of every one of 
 you ; and wherever I perceive the traces of 
 such evil feelings, shall visit with the severest 
 punishment." 
 
 This speech, the longest that Doctor Birch 
 was ever known to make, was listened to in 
 dead silence : the boys looked at one another 
 in wonder and suspicion. 
 
 "I did not do it, sir!"' "Nor If" "Nor I!" 
 cried several of them. 
 
 " Silence !" answered the master's sonorous 
 voice. " I want no confessions, I accuse no
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 37 
 
 one : but I wish all of you to know, and 
 Woodhouse especially, how much I honor 
 McKaye ; and how I consider a truthful honest 
 act far more creditable to him than a Greek 
 prize. Now, gentlemen, retire." 
 
 The boys were about to obey, when a knoct 
 came to the study door : it was a lad from the 
 village, who said he had something to commw 
 riicate to the Doctor. 
 
 " Very well. Go out, young gentlemen," 
 said the schoolmaster. 
 
 "Please, sur," interposed the lad, grinning, 
 " it's about them I comed to speak. One on'em 
 has lost a book, I reckon ; I've found it." And 
 he laid on the table, still fastened to the stone, 
 and thoroughly saturated with water, the very 
 exercise-book on which the young Italian had 
 committed such summary execution. 
 
 Cola trembled like an aspen, and could have 
 wished to sink through the floor — anywhere 
 out of the doctor's piercing eye, which, in his 
 excited fancy, seemed to single him out as the 
 guilty one. In the fervor of his gratitude he 
 .had crept up to Archibald ; and now, in his 
 alarm, he hid himself behind the sturdy frame 
 of his friend. 
 
 4
 
 38 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " Where did you find this, young man ?'' 
 was tlie doctor's stern inquiry. 
 
 " At the bottom of the pond in your field, 
 sur. I was there this morning, bird-nesting, 
 please your honor, which I hope you won't 
 take ill, as I did n't mean any mischief." 
 
 " Go on," said the doctor. 
 
 " And there I seed one of your young gen- 
 tlemen coming with something in his hand ; 
 and he tied it to a stone and flung it into the 
 water. Then he talked some gibberish, and 
 scampered off. I thought somehow he might 
 be mad, so I fished the bundle up again, and 
 brought it here." "^ 
 
 The doctor gravely untied the string, and 
 found it to be indeed the lost book. " Are 
 you sure, fellow, that it was one of the young 
 gentlemen at my house ?" 
 
 " Aye, sur, sure enough ; for there he is," 
 cried the lad • and his finger pointed out 
 Cola. 
 
 BoilinsT with anfjer, the Italian rushed at the 
 village-lad, and shook his tiny fist in his face. 
 
 " Poor young gentleman !" said the fellow. 
 "I be sure he 's sone mad." 
 
 o^ 
 
 The doctor rang the bell and dismissed the 
 
 *& 
 
 unconscious discoverer of Cola's deed. Then
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 39 
 
 Archibald went up to his master, and said, in 
 a trembling voice : — 
 
 " Oh, sir, since chance has caused you to 
 find out this, pray remember your kind pro- 
 mise, and do not punish the poor boy. He is 
 disgraced enou2;h." 
 
 " He is indeed," said Doctor Birch, as he 
 glanced toward where Cola stood, and saw 
 how all the boys had moved away from him, 
 and " sneak," " cheat," " pitiful fellow," were 
 murmured on every side. 
 
 " It now only remains to decide about the 
 prize," added the schoolmaster, as he examined, 
 as well as he could, the wet leaves of the book. 
 
 " Let Morris have it, sir," generously said 
 Archibald ; and the boys, with the quick feel- 
 ings of youth, which generally lean to the 
 right side, seconded the request. But Morris 
 stood forward. 
 
 "I don't care much about the prize now. 
 But, I tell you, Archy McKaye, you are a 
 regular good fellow, and I 'm very much 
 obliged to you : shake hands !" And he gave 
 his former rival such a hearty gripe that it 
 made Archibald's eyes water. 
 
 " This is my decision about the inkstand, 
 gentlemen," observed Doctor Birch : " It
 
 40 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 shall be placed on the schoolroom mantle 
 piece as a memento and a warning to you all.' 
 
 " Bravo, that 's quite right, thank you, sir," 
 cried the boys, hardly restrained by the sacred 
 atmosphere of the doctor's study, from ex 
 pressing their feelings in a downright school- 
 Doy hurrah. 
 
 " Stay a moment, boys," said the peda- 
 guogue, in his sympathy relaxing for a mo- 
 ment from the air of gravity which he always 
 thought it necessary to assume in his study. 
 Then resuming his severe look, he called 
 "Niccolo Monti." 
 
 Trembling, crimson and pale by turns, the 
 boy moved to his master's chair. His anger 
 had gone by, and the deepest shame and sor- 
 row possessed his mind. 
 
 " Niccolo Monti," said the doctor, «< if I 
 were to punish you, I should break my word, 
 which I never do ; and besides, I should inflict 
 pain upon that good honest boy, McKaye. 
 Your only excuse is, that you did this partly 
 out of affection for him. But in any case, de- 
 ceit is a sin, and revenge is one still greater. 
 You have escaped punishment ; but I com- 
 mand you to ask pardon of Morris Woodhouse, 
 here, before all your schoolfellows.
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 41 
 
 The angry spirit of old shone in Cola's eyes, 
 and he stood immoveable. But Morris, whose 
 unlooked-for success disposed his heart to all 
 better feelings, showed a kindness and gener- 
 osity that astonished every one. 
 
 " Come, Cola," he said, " you need not ask 
 my pardon ; I am not at all vexed with you 
 now ; you are only a little fellow compared 
 ■with me; you could not do me much harm. 
 I '11 treat you better in future ; and then per- 
 haps you wont hate me so much. Shake 
 hands, will you ?" 
 
 And another of Morris's rough grasps was 
 bestowed on his younger adversary. It touched 
 Cola's quick feelings more than any punish- 
 ment could have done. 
 
 " Thank you, Morris," said he, in a low re- 
 morseful tone, and then rushed up stairs and 
 shut himself up in his own little room. He 
 had received a lesson which he never forgot 
 while he lived. 
 
 i*
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOLIDAYS AT SCHOOL. 
 
 It was a fortunate thing for Cola, that im- 
 nediately after the examination which had 
 rought him to such shame, his school-fellows 
 dispersed for the holidays. The only two 
 who were to remain at Doctor Birch's were 
 those whose houses were so far distant, Ar- 
 chibald and Cola. To the former it was a 
 sore disappointment when he received the 
 news that another year must pass before he 
 would again see his mountain home. He had 
 longed so after it, as the summer grew ; and 
 many a time had he talked to Cola and his 
 other playmates, of all the sports he expected, 
 mountain rambles and fishing, and riding, gal- 
 loping over the free heather, on his little black 
 pony. Poor Archibald ! and he had to give 
 up all this for a month spent in the formality 
 and dulness of Doctor Birch's academy. But 
 he knew this was only because his father was 
 poor, and the journey would be such an ex-
 
 HOLIDAYS AT SCHOOL. 43 
 
 pense ; and he was well aware that the dear 
 mother whose pride he was, and the gentle 
 sister who longed to hear " English news" from 
 brother Archy, would be as disappointed as 
 himself. So he tried to forget it, and look quite 
 contented, when the rest of the boys were mer- 
 rily going home. 
 
 Every one seemed sorry to leave him, and 
 Morris Woodhouse, as he galloped off with his 
 father's groom behind him, said he would soon 
 come and fetch his former rival to spend a- day 
 or two with him at Westwood Park. Archi- 
 bald thought his promise was not likely to be 
 fulfilled ; but he thanked Morris, and felt glad 
 that, at all events, there was no enmity between 
 them now. And then, when all the boys were 
 gone, McKaye went back to the deserted 
 schoolroom. It looked dull and dark and mis- 
 erable. 
 
 *' Four long weeks in this place ! whatever 
 shall I do with myself?" sighed Archibald. 
 
 His sigh was echoed from the darkest cor- 
 ner ; and there, crouched down out of sight, sat 
 poor Cola. No one had noticed, or spoken 
 to him. He felt thoroughly desolate ; and 
 when he lifted up his head, there were the 
 marks of two large tears down his cheeks.
 
 44 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Archy saw that there was one person in the 
 world more miserable than himself. With the 
 sudden impulse of good feeling, he went up to 
 the boy. 
 
 " Come, Cola, my lad ! brighten up ! I am 
 not going home any more than you. But 
 since it cannot be helped, we must try to make 
 ourselves content. I am sure my mother is 
 very sorry not to see me ; and I dare say youra 
 is too." 
 
 " No ! she is not !" cried Cola, passionately. 
 " She does not want me to come to her, and I 
 do n't wish to go, either." 
 
 Archibald looked somewhat surprised. "I 
 thought that you were very fond of her, as all 
 good boys ought to be." 
 
 " Yes : but I hate her now, because she has 
 gone and married a stranger with a horrible 
 English name ; and she says I need not come 
 home. Home ! I have none now ! Oh, if I 
 could only meet that man she has married ! 
 Do you know what we do in Italy to those 
 whom we hate, and who have injured us ?" 
 
 " Give them a horsewhipping !" suggested 
 Archibald. 
 
 " No !" cried Cola, with his eyes glaring. 
 " But we wait quietly, in the night, and stab
 
 HOLIDAYS AT SCHOOL. 45 
 
 them, and throw them into the river. That 
 was what my grandfather — " 
 
 " Then your grandfather was a very wicked 
 man, and I will not have anything to say to 
 you, if you talk in that way, you little ruf- 
 fian !" said Archy, as he walked away, with 
 infinite displeasure in his countenance. 
 
 Cola was softened in a moment. His angry 
 ttiood changed. He took Archibald's hand, 
 and promised to think no more of such things. 
 Then McKaye spoke to him quietly and gravely 
 on the wickedness of revenge. First, as being 
 a great sin ; and also as bringing its own pun- 
 ishment upon the head of the avenger himself. 
 
 "Cola," said he, " I '11 tell you a story which 
 my father once told me, when I had been wish- 
 ing to have my revenge on a fellow who spoiled 
 my fishing-rod on purpose to vex me. There 
 was once a bad man, who hated almost every 
 body, except an only son, of whom he was 
 very fond. Well, he had one enemy, whom 
 he hated most of all, for some injury done 
 many years ago ; and one day he laid wait for 
 him behind a hedge to shoot him : but just as 
 he cocked the pistol, it caught in the hedge, 
 and went off". And who do you think it killed ? 
 Not his enemy J but his own son, who was
 
 46 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 walking quietly along the road. ' And so,' said 
 my father, when he had told me this, ' never 
 wish for revenge ! for, depend upon it, the 
 punishment always comes.' " 
 
 Cola turned pale. Archy had not said any- 
 thing about the incident of the book : but the 
 Italian knew that it was in his mind ; and he 
 felt ashamed of having aijain shown the evil 
 feeling that was so deeply rooted in his mind. 
 Archibald saw that his words were not thrown 
 away ; and, willing to change the current of 
 the boy's thoughts, he proposed that they should 
 stroll down the village : and off they set to- 
 gether. 
 
 It was strange to observe how much the calm 
 and equable temper of McKaye influenced the 
 impulsive dispositon of Cola. Though opposite 
 in many things, they seemed to agree, as Fos- 
 ter, the wit of the school, observed, "like a 
 dove-tailed joint." Tlie one bond of union 
 was probably, as Archibald had at first said, in 
 their both being strangers. But now being 
 left quite alone, their characters blended and 
 harmonized ; and their pursuits necessarily 
 grew much the same. Tlieir characters, also, 
 became mutually improved. Cola's warm 
 openheartedness tempered Archibald's reserve;
 
 HOLIDAYS AT SCHOOL. 47 
 
 and McKaye's steady good sense guided the 
 inconsiderate passion which the younger boy 
 had acquired from his birth, climate, and edu- 
 cation. 
 
 The two friends contrived to spend the holi- 
 day time without half the dulness they ex- 
 pected. There were the long rambles in the 
 fields, where Archibald, country-born, and 
 country-bred, showed to Cola many wonders, 
 of which the boy never dreamed in his stately 
 Roman home : the quiet sunny afternoons 
 spent over some pleasant book, which the elder 
 read and explained wherever Cola's still im- 
 perfect English failed ; the garden stroll in 
 the twilight, a time for confidential walks and 
 talks about many subjects, which had been 
 almost forbidden in the school at large, so ter. 
 rible is ridicule to boys. But now Cola ven- 
 tured to talk about his old home, and his nurse 
 Mona, and all the wonders of beautiful Rome, 
 its pictures, and its statues. Upon these the 
 enthusiastic boy dwelt with an earnestness 
 which would have shown to a more acute ob- 
 server than Archibald the inward tendency of 
 his mind, though still so young. 
 
 But though McKaye did not quite enter into 
 all Cola's feelings, he felt boyhood's natural
 
 48 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 curiosity to hear about far countries ; and was 
 interested and pleased in listening to his young 
 companion. After a while, Cola even took 
 courage to talk about the subject which had 
 excited the mirth of the schoolfellows, and 
 many a tale did he tell Archibald, of the an- 
 cient honors of the Monti family. The boy 
 was a true Italian even in his pride. In this, 
 McKaye felt most sympathy with the " little 
 fellow," (as he still called the small-limbed 
 delicate boy,) for it was a weak point of his 
 own. Many an hour was spent over such talk 
 by the two boys ; so different, and yet alike ; 
 for each — one in his Northern, the other in his 
 Southern home — had been brought up in the 
 same solitude, with ideas of life, and of the 
 world, more speculative than real. 
 
 Still, in all these conversations, the difference 
 of character showed itself. While Cola re- 
 counted with delight the history of those great 
 men who had, either as soldiers, statesmen, 
 or poets, shed a glory on their ancient name, 
 Archibald spoke of those sterling honest men, 
 in whom Scottish records abound, who had 
 fought for the right, either with hands, with 
 tongue, or pen, or perhaps all three ; and of 
 those earnest active minds, who had worked
 
 HOLIDAYS AT SCHOOL. 49 
 
 their way to success by their own exertions 
 and strength of purpose. 
 
 " After all," Archibald would say, when 
 they had held a long discussion on this topic, " I 
 don't know but that to set to work for oneself, 
 and get to be something great on one's own ac- 
 count is better than to have a long string of 
 dead ancestors." 
 
 So spoke Archibald's good common sense ; 
 but it was hardly to be expected that two such 
 young heads should settle clearly a point 
 which has puzzled many a wise and grey- 
 haired one. 
 
 However, with all those plans for amuse- 
 ment, Cola and Archy passed the holidays 
 without any quarrelling, and with very little 
 dulness. Once the Italian was left to his own 
 resources, for Morris remembered his promise, 
 and came to fetch Archibald to visit him. 
 But, somehow, McKaye never felt quite com- 
 fortable in the large splendid house ; perhaps 
 his pride fancied that there was a good deal 
 of ostentation in his school-fellow's hospitality, 
 and he came back with pleasure to school 
 and to Cola's joyful welcome. 
 
 Thus almost before they thought the month 
 had gone by, the holidays were over : the
 
 50 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Doctor came from his London trip, and by de- 
 grees all his young flock were gathered together 
 around him. School-business berjan again ; 
 there were some new faces, and there wa 
 much for the old pupils to hear and relate ; 
 so that Cola and his adventure were entirely 
 forgotten. A great change had come over the 
 boy : he had learned to think and to reason, 
 whereas before his only guides were his feel- 
 higs. He had acquired a measure of self-con- 
 trol, and in every way was different from the 
 " new boy," who, six months before, had been 
 by turns abused and ridiculed. He was grow- 
 ing "in wisdom and stature."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE TOTJNG CARICATURIST. 
 
 When Cola Monti had been a year at Dr. 
 Birch's, he had contrived to make for himself 
 a good position in the school. He had not 
 fought his way to this, as most boys are obliged 
 to do, but he had gained it by his quick talents, 
 his readiness to oblige, and his open, frank, 
 cheerful temper. True, all these good quali- 
 ties did not burst forth at once ; but came out 
 by degrees. When his laziness was once con- 
 quered, the boys, aye, and Dr. Birch too, found 
 out that the little foreigner bade fair to be 
 quite as clever as Morris Woodhouse. And 
 when, no longer repressed by ill-usage, his 
 naturally blithe temper showed itself; the rest 
 acknowledjred that there was not a merrier 
 fellow in the school than the little Italian. 
 
 Cola in time became universally liked, even 
 more so than his steady friend Archibald. 
 Every one respected the sensible, persevering, 
 right-thinking Scottish boy, but all chose the
 
 53 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 merry Cola for a playmate or a confidant. 
 Archibald looked on all this, and his sincere 
 and truly affectionate heart felt right glad. 
 He liked Cola heartily ; and the regard he had 
 shown to the poor friendless boy remained 
 constant to the pet of the school . And it was 
 requited by Cola with the most unbounded 
 affection. He never forgot the old times when 
 Archy was his only defender : and perhaps 
 McKaye too thought, with a little justifiable 
 self-complacency, that he had himself been 
 the first upholder and counsellor of the boy 
 who had. now so many friends. 
 
 One day Cola's schoolfellows made a dis. 
 covery, which raised the young Italian at 
 once to the height of popularity. 
 
 " What are you about, King Cole ?" said 
 Forster, trying to peep over his slate : Cola, 
 by a natural school-boy transition, had de- 
 generated into this nickname, which was 
 thought most ingenious and applicable to such 
 " a merry old soul" as the little Italian. 
 "You have not done your sums yet ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes I have !" answered Cola. " I 'm 
 only amusing myself now." 
 
 " Let me see !" 
 
 " Wait a minute, and you shall," he whis-
 
 THE YOUNG CARICATURIST. 53 
 
 pered ; " that is, as soon as the Doctor has left 
 the schoolroom." 
 
 And that very desirable event having taken 
 place, Cola turned the slate round, and showed 
 Forster a capital caricature of himself. In- 
 deed, so like was it as to feature, that, but for 
 the irresistibly comical expression, it could 
 hardly be called a caricature, Forster being a 
 remarkable ugly boy, though his good temper 
 and wit atoned for his plainness. 
 
 There was a general burst of laughter and ap- 
 plause ; for nothing delights boys so much as a 
 good caricature of a playmate. Every one likes 
 to quiz another, though it is a different matter 
 when the joke is directed against himself. How- 
 ever, Forster stood it out as well as he could. 
 
 "Bravo, King Cole! you're a dangerous 
 fellow," cried he. " Come, try your hand 
 again ; give us a specimen of Jacob Lee." 
 
 " Stand up, Lee, and let him see you," was 
 the cry ; and Jacob, a shy, stupid boy, with 
 a long nose and lanky hair, was placed to be 
 sketched, amid shouts of laughter. Another 
 and another followed : heads of all kinds were 
 added, each minute garnishing the long rule- 
 of-three sum with curious marginal oddities. 
 At last Cola grew more daring. 
 
 5*
 
 54 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 "Stand off, boys," he said, "and I'll draw 
 the old Doctor for you." 
 
 This was irresistible ; and when the Doc- 
 tor stood out in relief from the slate, in all his 
 peculiarities — his stiff collar, his upright hail, 
 and his spectacles, the likeness was such that 
 the boys gave a general hurrah. So much 
 noise did they make, and so intent were they, 
 that no one heard the door open, until the ori- 
 ginal of the portrait looked over Cola's shoulder 
 and beheld — himself I 
 
 It was a terrible moment in schoolboy annals. 
 The Doctor looked, frowned, glanced round at 
 the young rebels, then again at the slate. 
 Whether it was that natural vanity made him 
 feel rather pleased to see the only likeness of 
 himself which had ever been taken, or whether 
 Cola's sketch had less of caricature than nature, 
 it is impossible to say ; but Doctor Birch 
 smiled — absolutely smiled ! He was a good- 
 tempered man, and the boys knew it ; they 
 took advantage of it sometimes, the naughty 
 fellows ! So the smile gradually went round, 
 until it became a laugh, and the schoolmaster 
 could not help laughing too. 
 
 " So this is the way you amuse yourselves, 
 boys," said he at last. The culprits knew his
 
 THE YOUNG CARICATURIST. 55 
 
 ire was not very great, or else he would have 
 said, "gentlemen." One and all they begged 
 forgiveness. 
 
 " Please, sir, we did not mean any disre- 
 spect ; and it is such a good likeness." 
 
 " Silence ! Let me hear no more of this," 
 said Dr. Birch, as gravely as he could. " And, 
 Cola Monti, another time, make game of your 
 schoolfellows if you choose, but not of your 
 master." 
 
 So the doctor went away ; but from that 
 time the popularity of Cola was established 
 more than ever. His talents were in constant 
 requisition : every quaint head, every oddity of 
 expression was made the subject of his pencil, 
 and gradually the slate was cast aside for the 
 dignity of paper and chalk. All the boys in 
 their turn underwent the ordeal of having their 
 peculiarities brought to light, all except Archi- 
 bald McKaye. No persuasions could induce 
 Cola to make a caricature of his friend ; he 
 always found some excuse or other to put it off. 
 At last the boys teased him, and said, Archy's 
 face was beyond his skill. 
 
 " Give me ten minutes, and you shall see," 
 answered Cola. 
 
 Archibald looked surprised, and rather
 
 58 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 vexed ; for one of his weaknesses was, that 
 he could not bear being laughed at ; however, 
 he took his station. Cola finished tlie sketch, 
 but it was no caricature : it was a capital like- 
 ness of Archibald's thoughtful head, with the 
 soft curling hair, and the calm, serious eyes. 
 
 " Why, Cola, you ought to be an artist," 
 cried the boys, when they saw it. 
 
 Cola smiled, and his eyes kindled. " I will 
 try !" he said in his own heart, and from that 
 day he drew no more caricatures. 
 
 There was a person who came to the school 
 every week, to give lessons to some of the 
 boys. He was a poor country drawing-master ; 
 poor, in every sense, having no idea of art be- 
 yond making pencil sketches of cottages, that 
 looked always tumbling down, children with 
 immense heads, and ladies with hands no 
 larger than their noses. But even the slight 
 instruction that he could give, it was impossible 
 for Cola to obtain. 
 
 "Why don't you learn of Mr. White?" the 
 boys were always asking him. And Cola was 
 too proud and too sensitive to let them know, 
 that beyond the payments to Doctor Birch, his 
 mother, or, rather, her avaricious husband, 
 would bestow no other advantages on the father- 
 less boy. But by observation, and by casual
 
 THE YOUNG CARICATITRIST. 57 
 
 inquiries of the other boys, Cola learnt the man- 
 ner of handling the chalk, and much other use- 
 ful information. Besides, his naturally correct 
 eye aided him more than bad teaching would 
 have done, so that he probably lost nothing from 
 missing the advantages he envied so much. 
 
 After a while there came some further help. 
 One of the boys brought the intelligence that 
 a printshop had been set up in the village. 
 This was indeed a novelty to all : to Cola it 
 was glorious news. He carried in his memory 
 faint ideas of the pictures which he had seen 
 in his childhood, in the great city of Art. 
 Many and many a time had he talked to Archi- 
 bald of the marvellous paintings which had 
 dazzled his young mind when his father took 
 him through the Vatican, and the Sistine 
 chapels. He could not understand them then ; 
 but he now knew they were wonderful and 
 beautiful. He read about them in some stray 
 books which had found their way to the school, 
 and tried hard to arrange and give form to 
 these faint memories of childhood. With these 
 exceptions, the boy had no guide whatever in 
 this strong bias of his mind, for the worthy 
 doctor had not a picture or an engraving in his 
 house. Therefore the printshop was quite a 
 godsend to young Cola.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN. 
 
 As soon as the half-holiday came round, 
 Cola and Archibald set off to look at the new 
 attraction in the village. One or two of the 
 rest went with them, for Cola's drawings had 
 quite " set the fashion," as is not unusual in 
 schools, where if one leads, several others are 
 sure to follow. Hence, chalks and sitters had 
 latterly been at a premium ; and many atrocities 
 in art — round eyes, and crooked noses, had been 
 perpetrated by the younger boys, who must 
 try to imitate the others. Moreover, the keeper 
 of the printshop was quite surprised to see so 
 many schoolboys stopping at his window daily. 
 
 Cola went with a heart which expectation 
 caused to beat faster than usual. The day 
 boarders had brought him descriptions of all 
 the pretty chalk heads which had taken their 
 fancy — those one sees in every print window. 
 Cola almost knew by heart their accounts of 
 the shepherd-boy with his pipe • and the girl
 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW-COTTNTRYMAN. 59 
 
 kissing her parrot ; and the old man with a 
 beard, and a long knife which he held over 
 a young girl. Opinions were divided as to 
 whether the latter was meant for Jephthah, or 
 Virginius, or Agamemnon ; indeed, there had 
 been three pitched battles on the subject. 
 
 But the print which charmed Cola was none 
 of these. It was an engraving of Raphael's Holy 
 Family, that exquisite oval which repx'esents the 
 Virgin, Child, and St. John, and is called the 
 "Madonna della Sedia," the Madonna of the 
 chair, because the great artist painted it from a 
 beautiful peasant- woman, whom he saw sitting 
 at her cottage-door, with her children beside her. 
 
 " Ah, I know this — I remember this !" said 
 the young Italian, while his eyes glistened 
 with delight. " One, like it, used to hang at 
 the foot of my bed, when I was a little child, 
 and nurse Mona always said her prayers be- 
 fore it every night." 
 
 *' That was very wrong, Cola," observed the 
 serious Archibald. 
 
 Cola did not hear him, he was absorbed in 
 delight. " How beautiful — how beautiful it 
 is !" he said softly. " Look, Archy, at the 
 child's tiny feet and the hands ; I must learn 
 how to draw a hand."
 
 60 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 *' What an odd striped shawl the Virgin 
 wears ! It 's just like some of the patterns in 
 our mill," cried one of the boys, who came 
 from Manchester. 
 
 Cola's lip curled. " He sees only a shawl, 
 when there is such a face ! Jacob Lee, you will 
 never be a painter." 
 
 " I do n't want to be one," said Jacob Lee. 
 *«I had rather by half keep father's cotton- 
 mill." 
 
 The boy-artist — he was an artist in his soul 
 already — turned away. It grated on his mind 
 to hear such words, and he could hardly hide 
 his sovereign contempt for the speaker. As 
 they walked homeward, it took all Archibald's 
 good sense and right judgment to argue the 
 point satisfactorily, and prove to the enthusi- 
 astic Cola that a man might be a very excellent 
 man in his way, without any feeling for Art at 
 all ; and that a good master of a cotton-mill 
 might make quite as useful a member of society 
 as a great painter. Archibald was always a 
 long-headed boy ; and he thought himself bound 
 to act as Mentor to the young Italian. On the 
 other side. Cola invariably listened to him with 
 patience and deference, for Archibald had long 
 won both his respect and attachment.
 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW -COTTNTRYMAN. 61 
 
 Cola and Archy had walked together a little 
 in the rear of the others, when, on approaching 
 the school-gates, they saw their playmates 
 standing in a group. 
 
 " Cola, Cola, come here ! We want you," 
 was the cry. 
 
 Cola ran forward, and saw that they were 
 collected round a poor organ-boy, one of those 
 wandering minstrels who are so common in 
 London streets, and are now and then met 
 with far down in the country. The poor fel- 
 low lay on the ground, with his eyes half closed 
 and his head leaning on his organ. He was 
 not asleep, but seemed thoroughly exhausted 
 with weariness or illness. His brown cheek 
 was thin and wasted, and his poor meagre 
 hands seemed, as the phrase runs, "nothing 
 but skin and bone." 
 
 *' We have spoken to him and he does not 
 answer," said one of the boys. " You must 
 take him in hand. Cola, for he is very likely a 
 countryman of yours." 
 
 Cola's warm heart throbbed in sympathy ; 
 he leaned over the poor boy, and said some 
 words to him in Italian. The little foreigner, 
 half-fainting as he was, caught them ; he 
 started, looked round as if he were dreaming, 
 
 6
 
 62 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 and his eyes fell upon Cola, who spoke to him 
 again. Never was there such a change as 
 that which came over the poor boy's face. It 
 was positively lighted up with rapture : he 
 could not speak, but he took Cola's hand and 
 kissed i*^^ with all the passionate energy of his 
 clime. 
 
 "Ask him what is the matter with him," 
 said the thoughtful Archibald. " He seems 
 ill ; perhaps we might do something for him." 
 
 " lo moro — di fame. I ain dying of hun- 
 ger," murmured the organ-boy, in answer to 
 Cola's question. 
 
 The boys' sympathy was aroused ; and soon 
 two or three of them ran to the house, and re- 
 turned with great lumps of holiday cake, which 
 the famished boy devoured with avidity. 
 
 " This will never do for a poor fellow who 
 is starving," said McKaye. " Run, Cola, and 
 beg the cook to give us a good slice of bread 
 and a bowl of milk ; that is much the best fo. 
 him." 
 
 The restoratives succeeded, and in a few 
 minutes the boys had the gratification of seeing 
 their protege sit up and look around him. 
 
 " Now, Cola, ask him what his name is, and 
 where he comes from, and all about him," cried
 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW-COITNTRYMAN, 63 
 
 they, thinking this little adventure made quite 
 an agreeable diversion in the monotony of 
 school-boy life. 
 
 Cola, excited by the old home-memories, 
 which the picture he had just seen had first 
 awakened, spoke again to his young country 
 man, while his lips trembled over that long- 
 unuttered native tongue. He soon learnt that 
 the boy's name was Giuseppe Fontana ; that 
 he had been going through the country '.vith 
 his organ, when he fell sick of a fever, and 
 had never been well since. That he had 
 walked a long way that day with his organ at 
 his back : but no one would listen to his play- 
 ing, or give him a halfpenny, so that he could 
 get no food, and had sat down on the road-side 
 utterly exhausted. 
 
 Young people are generally ready to believe ; 
 and theirs is a happy credulousness. None of 
 the boys doubted the poor Italian's tale ; in- 
 deed it was sufficiently proved by his appear- 
 ance, which was worn and wretched in the ex- 
 treme. And when he looked up and began to 
 speak, the most suspicious observer might have 
 seen that there was no deceit or imposition in 
 that open child-like face, made prematurely 
 old by suffering.
 
 64 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " Ask him if he has got a father, and why 
 he does not go back to Italy," said one of the 
 boys to Cola. 
 
 "I am an orphan, and I have no brothers 
 and sisters," answered Giuseppe, mournfully, 
 in his broken English. " I shall never go 
 back to Rome, bella Roma, beautiful Rome, 
 where I was born, and where my father died." 
 
 Cola's dark eyes filled with tears. " I come 
 from Rome too !" he answered in Italian ; 
 " and my father is dead also ! You must try 
 to stay here, and let me help you, little Giu- 
 seppe, if that is your name. I wish I were a 
 man, that I could take you to be my little ser- 
 vant ; and we could talk of home together, and 
 you should never be hungry any more." 
 
 The organ-boy's reply was a torrent of grate- 
 ful thanks, uttered in his own expressive, 
 though quite untranslateable speech. But the 
 beloved Italian tongue fell like music on Cola's 
 ear, and he responded with equal volubility. 
 
 Absorbed in the delimit of findinir a coun- 
 tryman, he never noticed that the afternoon 
 was closing in ; and that, one by one, the boys 
 had gone away to their play ; doubtless find- 
 ing this long conversation in a foreign language 
 not quite so interesting as they expected. No
 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN. 65 
 
 one was near except Archy, who sat quietly on 
 a stone, fashioning a long shoot of a wild rose- 
 bush into a walking-stick. Suddenly the sup- 
 per-bell rang, and Cola began to think what he 
 could do with his protege, who was not able to 
 walk two miles to the village ; and, moreover, 
 had no money to pay for a night's lodging 
 when he got there. 
 
 Cola ran to Archibald in distress, and asked 
 what he was to do. 
 
 " I thought you would come to this," said 
 McKaye, smiling. " So I waited quietly until 
 you had done talking in that queer tongue of 
 yours. It isn't half as fine as Greek or Gae- 
 lic ! But come my boy, don't look cross, we 
 must see what we can do for your new friend." 
 
 This was a difficult matter to decide. Cola, 
 with his warm feelings, thought of bringing in 
 the organ-boy, and giving him his own supper ; 
 and even requesting Doctor Birch to let him 
 sleep with the stable-boy, in the coach-house. 
 But Archibald shook his head. 
 
 " Just like you. Cola : you are a generous, 
 warm-hearted fellow ; but you never give your- 
 self time to think. This plan will not do. In 
 the first place, though the boy does come from 
 Rome, and you of course think him all that is 
 
 6*
 
 66 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 good, — very natural too, — you cannot make 
 everybody else think the same." 
 
 " Oh, Archy ! how unkind ! I am sure he i.s 
 a good boy," expostulated Cola. 
 
 *' I dare say he is a very honest fellow, but 
 the doctor may not think so ; and any how, his 
 havinw had the fever would frighten the old 
 governor. No, no ! Cola, we must not bring 
 him into the house." 
 
 " What ! and let him sleep in the open air, 
 these cold autumn nights ? He will die !" 
 
 Archy thought for a few minutes. " I '11 
 tell you what we '11 do, Cola. We will make 
 him a bed in the barn at the bottom of the field. 
 The coachman will give us some straw, and a 
 rug ; or if he does not like to lend that, the 
 boy is welcome to my old plaid. Thus you 
 can manage without offending the doctor, or 
 getting yourself into trouble." 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you, dear Archy ! there 
 is nobody like you !" cried Cola. 
 
 " 'Tis only a bit of common sense," said the 
 other. " Now go and tell the lad what we are 
 ffoinw to do with him." 
 
 Giuseppe was full of thankfulness ; but 
 when he rose up to walk, his limbs sank under 
 him.
 
 COLA MEETS A FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN. 67 
 
 " Poor fellow !" said McKaye, compassion- 
 ately, " how weak he must be ! Well, never 
 mind : he is but a light weight, I '11 carry him." 
 And the sturdy boy took the little foreigner on 
 his back, and carried him as if he were an 
 infant. Indeed, Giuseppe seemed little more 
 than a child, like many others of his class, 
 whom one sees wandering about, doomed to 
 hardship at an age when rich men's sons are 
 considered scarce out of babyhood. The two 
 friends made a comfortable couch for the poor 
 little stranger, placed his organ beside him, and 
 left him to sleep. But before Cola went to bed, 
 he crept down to the barn with a great piece 
 of bread and cheese, which he had saved from 
 his own supper for his destitute countryman. 
 The boy was just asleep. 
 
 " It will do for his breakfast when he wakes," 
 said Cola to himself. So he retired to rest, a 
 little hungry certainly ; but feeling happy in 
 knowing that the poor Giuseppe was saved 
 from dying of want.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A FLAN, AND HOW IT SUCCEEDED, 
 
 Next morning Cola's first thought was, as 
 might be expected, his young pi-otege. The 
 boy's kind heart thrilled with generous pleas- 
 ure, as he saw Giuseppe sitting up with a 
 cheerful face, eating his bread and cheese ; 
 and not looking by any means so weak and 
 pallid as he had done the night before. Nothing 
 could equal the delight and gratitude of the 
 poor organ-boy, when he beheld his protector. 
 His brown eyes seemed fairly running over 
 with tears of joy. 
 
 " I am sure he is a good honest boy !" said 
 Cola to himself. And he was right. The 
 poor orphan had not been contaminated by the 
 wandering class among which he had lived : 
 he was, in truth, deserving of the kindness he 
 had met with. 
 
 " I have hardly done anything for you, my 
 poor Giuseppe !" said Cola, in answer to his 
 fervently-expressed gratitude.
 
 A PLAN, AND HOW IT SUCCEEDED, 69 
 
 " Yes, you have, Sigiiorino mio ; except for 
 you, I would have died in the road. But that 
 was what my mother said to me before I went 
 away to England, and never saw her again. 
 ' Seppi,' — she always called me little Seppi, — 
 * be a good boy, and speak the truth, and do 
 not steal, though you are ever so hungry, then 
 God will be sure to send some one who will 
 be kind to you.' And so He sent you, Signo- 
 rino, to bring me food, and keep me from 
 dying." 
 
 Struck by the simple, but earnest piety of 
 the poor orphan. Cola felt determined not to 
 lose sight of him, but to help him in every 
 way. In his warm-hearted resolutions, the 
 young Italian never thought how little a school- 
 boy of fourteen could do. Many a plan had 
 floated through his brain already, but they 
 were all vague and unsatisfactory. In the 
 midst of a brilliant scheme to keep Guiseppe 
 in the village, and educate and teach him 
 English, Cola suddenly remembered that his 
 pocket-money amounted to just ten shillings 
 per annum, and that at the present moment 
 his purse contained the large sum of three 
 half-pence. 
 
 In the midst of these cogitations, while his
 
 70 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 little friend watched his countenance with the 
 most intense anxiety, Cola saw Archibald 
 coming to the barn. 
 
 " This is good-natured, Archy !" said Cola. 
 "You must thank him too," he added in Ital- 
 ian, to the organ-boy, " for he carried you here 
 on his back, and has done much for you." 
 
 Giuseppe looked at McKaye with grateful 
 eyes, and uttered many thanks ; but it was 
 evident that his warmest feelings M'cre with 
 his own countryman, whom he watched un- 
 ceasingly. 
 
 " Now, Cola, wliat do you intend to do with 
 your new pet?" said Archibald, after a while. 
 
 Cola looked puzzled and uncomfortable. — 
 " That is what I have been thinking about 
 but I cannot fix upon anything. Do help me, 
 Archy !" 
 
 " Well, in the first place, 1 do not see that he 
 can stay here much longer, because he must 
 want food, and I do not think it is quite fair to 
 levy secret contributions on the Doctor's lar- 
 der," — here he looked at the fragments of the 
 bread and cheese. 
 
 " I did not do that," murmured Cola blush- 
 ing. "It was my own supper." 
 
 " Bravo, my little generous fellow !" said
 
 A PLAN, AND HOW IT SUCCEEDED. 71 
 
 s 
 
 McKaye, clapping him on the shoulder ; " but 
 you yourself will get as thin as a maypole, if 
 you go on feeding such a fine bird after this 
 fashion. No ! we must think of something 
 else. Ask him what he intends to do." 
 
 Cola held a short conversation with his pro- 
 tege, and then explained that Seppi wished to 
 travel back to London before winter, but that 
 his organ was broken and out of tune, so that 
 nobody would listen to his playing, and there- 
 fore he could only get on by begging his way 
 from town to town. 
 
 " He says he never begged in his life, and 
 he feels ashamed," added Cola ; and Archibald 
 was convinced of the truth, when he saw large 
 tears on the crimson cheeks of the little 
 Italian. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" he said. " If we could 
 subscribe to get him a new organ. Some of 
 the lads have money to spare, which otherwise 
 they would only waste in sweetmeats. I 
 thought I heard Morris Woodhouse offering 
 you a shilling for this same boy last night." 
 
 "Yes ; but I did not choose to take it." 
 
 " Cola, Cola ! that was a bit of your foolish 
 pride," said the young Mentor, shaking his 
 head. " Morris meant kindly, and you were
 
 72 STORY OF A GENITTS. 
 
 wrong not to take it. But let us know what a 
 new organ would cost." 
 
 " Five pounds, Seppi says." 
 
 " Ah ! we shall never get that, so we must 
 give up the idea. But come, it is breakfast- 
 time now. I think your Seppi might stay here 
 till afternoon, and meanwhile some plan may 
 come into our heads. ' When there 's a will 
 there 's a way.' " 
 
 This was one of Archy's wise saws, which 
 he constantly brought out, and, to his credit be 
 it said, as constantly acted upon. In the pres- 
 ent case he was not long before he proved the 
 truth of the axiom. 
 
 " Cola, I 've a thought," said he, when the 
 boys were taking their formal noonday stroll, 
 under the Doctor's guidance, a sway so easy 
 that it allowed a fine opportunity for conversa- 
 tion, to each couple which filed before him. 
 "Cola, I 've a thought." 
 
 " What about ?" 
 
 •' Your little Italian, of course. Look here , 
 we '11 go to business in a systematic manner. 
 We want money, which neither of us have 
 got ; the question is how to get it. I cannot 
 help thinking that those little drawings which 
 you are always spending your time over, would
 
 A PLAN, AND HOW IT .SUCCEEDED. 73 
 
 please the farmers' wives, about here, and per- 
 haps some people would give a shilling or so 
 for two or three of them. Now you cannot go 
 up and down the country selling them, but 
 Seppi could ; and, perhaps, in time, he might 
 get enough money to buy another organ." 
 
 " Archy, Archy, how clever you are !" cried 
 Cola, in delight. 
 
 " Not at all ; only when a fellow has a tal- 
 ent — which I think you have in this sketching 
 fancy of yours, I like to find out to what use it 
 can be put, and make the most of it." 
 
 " Oh ! this is charming ; I have plenty of 
 heads and figures already done. There is 
 Quintus Curtius leaping in the gulf, and Rom- 
 ulus with the wolf, and King John signing 
 Magna Charta, and your own Mary Queen of 
 Scots—" 
 
 "Stop a minute," said McKaye, laughing. 
 " We must arrange our plans a little more 
 systematically. These sort of sketches will 
 hardly do for farmers' wives, who never heard 
 of Romulus or Quintus Curtius in their lives. 
 No ! I think if you did a few pretty heads of 
 babies, and colored them with red cheeks and 
 golden hair, or drew an old woman feeding 
 chickens, or the Doctor's chestnut horse, these 
 
 7
 
 74 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 would be much more likely to attract the kind 
 of purchasers we want to please." 
 
 Poor Cola looked rather crest-fallen ; this 
 was by no means his taste in Art, but he saw 
 the good sense which dictated Archibald's ad- 
 vice, and was soon persuaded that he was right. 
 
 " Then there is another thing that we 
 must consider," went on McKaye, " the draw- 
 ings will want frames. We cannot buy them, 
 therefore we must make them. I can cut all 
 sorts of toys in wood, and I do n't see why I 
 could not make a picture-frame. At all events 
 there is nothing like trying, and I '11 try to- 
 day." 
 
 " Excellent ! excellent ! How thoughtful 
 you are, Archy ! And, I dare say, the car- 
 penter at the lane-end would give you a few 
 pieces of wood, because you cured his lame 
 dog, you know." 
 
 " Very likely he would. And then. Cola, 
 by this plan you would see your little country- 
 man every now and then, when he came to fetch 
 more drawings, and you might have a talk with 
 him about Rome, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 No one knew what a kind heart lay hid 
 under the quiet exterior of the reserved Scot- 
 tish boy ; no one but Cola Monti.
 
 A PLAN, AND HOW IT SUCCEEDED. 75 
 
 The plan was tried, and it succeeded. A 
 few sketches, such as Archibald thought most 
 .ikely to please, were soon done by Cola in his 
 best style. McKaye's skilful hand made very 
 respectable wooden frames, and little Seppi, 
 being properly instructed, set off on his expe- 
 dition. He had another means of getting oa 
 too : he could sing a few of his native ditties, 
 with his sweet childish voice, for music seems 
 to come instinctively to the Italians. Many 
 an English mother, who bought one of his 
 pretty pictures to hang over the fire-place in 
 the best room, gave the young foreigner his 
 dinner or his breakfast for the sake of his 
 merry song. 
 
 Thus for many months this project went on 
 successfully. Seppi travelled far and wide, 
 and carried on quite a flourishing trade with 
 the fruits of Cola's skill. Sometimes he even 
 got so much as half-a-crown for a sketch, and 
 as he always brought to Cola's keeping every 
 farthincr that he did not want, there soon 
 mounted up a little sum.. But Seppi did not 
 now wish to buy an organ ; he could not have 
 borne to lose sight of his young countryman, 
 for whom he had conceived the strongest at-
 
 76 STORY OF A GENITJS. 
 
 tachment ; so the trade of the little wandering 
 picture-dealer still went on. 
 
 Cola, encouraged by success, exerted his ut- 
 most efforts to improve. His drawings, one 
 after the other, were more correct and finished; 
 and from a mere amusement his pencil became 
 his chief occupation when not engaged in 
 study. Every book that he could light upon, 
 connected with Art, was indeed a treasure ; 
 and by daily study of nature, he was gradually 
 forming himself for his future destiny, before 
 he was yet out of boyhood.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE END OF COLa's SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 As one half-year passed after another, Cola 
 Monti grew to be a tall, clever youth, well 
 educated, and pleasing in a great degree. 
 Gradually, the school changed, and new faces 
 were seen, filling the places of the old ones. 
 Morris Woodhouse went to college, and Doctor 
 Birch talked with great pride of his favorite 
 pupil's success. Archibald McKaye had steadi- 
 ly worked through his school-days, and had left 
 the confinement of Doctor Birch's school-room 
 for the still greater drudgery of a merchant's 
 office in London. But, as he said to Cola when 
 they parted, " A man must work at something 
 or other all his life through, and the sooner he 
 makes up his mind to it the better." 
 
 Cola himself began to have many anxious 
 thoughts about his future pursuits in life, for 
 there was no hint of his leaving school, and he 
 had only seen his mother once or twice. Often 
 and often when Archibald talked of his own 
 
 7*
 
 T8 STORY OF A GENItrS. 
 
 happy home, did the lonely boy feel his heart 
 ready to break, for he had no one to love him 
 or care for him, except the poor Italian boy to 
 whom he had been so kind. 
 
 He still kept up the practice of his beloved 
 Art ; and sometimes during the long holidays, 
 which he spent at school alone, vague dreams of 
 being a painter one day made him feel happy for 
 the time, and less down-hearted as to the future. 
 
 When Cola was seventeen, his mother died. 
 Then her husband refused any longer to de- 
 fray the expenses of his step-son's education; 
 and young Monti was in fact turned upon the 
 world quite destitute. Doctor Birch's kind- 
 ness, however, interfered ; he proposed that 
 Cola should still stay with him as a sort of 
 usher, to teach the languages in which he was 
 skilled. It was a life strongly opposed to the 
 youth's own fancy, for though clever himself, 
 Cola had not the steadiness, and above all the 
 patience, necessary for a teacher. But he 
 fully appi'eciated the kindness of his old master, 
 and bravely set to work to do his best. 
 
 His best was by no means wonderful ; for 
 his heart was not in it, and moreover his daily 
 duties engrossed his time so much, that the 
 drawing and painting languished. Still Cola
 
 THE END OF COLa's SCHOOL-DAYS. 79 
 
 persevered, for he remembered his friend Ar- 
 chibald's saying, " that every man must work," 
 and many men too, at duties they did not like. 
 McKaye's boyish friendship had not diminished, 
 and when his letters came occasionally, telling 
 of a close London office, and a room in the attic 
 of a London house, looking down upon a noisy 
 street, Cola breathed the fresh country air, and 
 thought that, after all, his lot was not so hard 
 as Archy's. 
 
 Nevertheless, when Seppi came to see his 
 "young master," as he persisted in calling 
 Cola, he was grieved to notice how pale and 
 melancholy that dear master looked, Seppi 
 had good news to tell, having sold all the pic- 
 tures, and brought back a handful of silver to 
 be put in the treasure-box. Cola's heavy eyes 
 hardly brightened even at the success. 
 
 " But I have something else to tell to il Signor 
 carissimo, — the dearest master," continued the 
 Italian. " I met one day in the fields an odd- 
 looking gentleman, who was making drawings 
 like you ; — only they were not half so pretty," 
 said Seppi in an affectionate parenthesis, which 
 made Cola smile. 
 
 " Well what of that ? I suppose he was an 
 artist."
 
 80 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Very likely, Signor, but he spoke to nie in 
 Italian, and a noble gentleman I soon found 
 him to be, though he was an Englishman. I 
 showed hull the pictures, and he praised them 
 very much." 
 
 " Did he, did he ?" cried Cola, his face light- 
 ing up with pleasure. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and he asked me who painted 
 them, for whoever it was he would become a 
 great artist in time. You see, Signor, I re- 
 membered his very words to tell you afterwards. 
 And then seeing him so kind, I told him all 
 about you, and how good you had been to me ; 
 and he tore off a leaf from his book, and wrote 
 this, which he desired me to give to you." 
 
 Cola seized the letter, which ran thus : — 
 
 " I know nothing of you, sir, except what 
 the boy Giuseppe Fontana has told me ; but if 
 you are the artist who painted the water-color 
 sketches I have just seen, I would advise you 
 to come to London, if you can, and study regu- 
 larly the noblest profession under the sun. I 
 will, if I find you worthy, do all in my poor 
 influence to advance you. My name and ad- 
 dress are — " 
 
 It was the name of a first-rate artist, whose 
 fame had reached even to the obscure village
 
 THE END OF COLa's SCHOOL-DAYS. 81 
 
 which had been so long Cola's only home. 
 The youth's heart beat with the wildest joy. 
 
 " To go to London ; to be an artist ! oh, 
 how happy it would be !" cried he. But im- 
 mediately his countenance fell, for he remem- 
 bered that he had no money, and it was utterly 
 impossible for him even to get to the metropolis 
 without being dependent on charity. The 
 letter fell from his hand, and he sat down dis- 
 consolate. 
 
 The Italian boy crept to him. " Will the 
 Signor tell poor Seppi what there was in the 
 gentleman's note to make him look so happy 
 for a minute, and then so sad ?" 
 
 Cola told him. 
 
 " And why should not the Signor go to Lon- 
 don and be a great artist ?" 
 
 " Ah, Seppi, you do not understand these 
 things. It would take money, a great deal 
 too, and I have none at all." Cola covered 
 his face with his hands, and felt that it would 
 have been a relief to cry, were he not ashamed 
 to be so little of a man. 
 
 Steppi went to the money-box ; it was one 
 of Archy's handiwork, with a little slit at the 
 top just large enough to push in shillings and 
 half-crowns. To this receptacle, month after
 
 82 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 month, had been committed the small savings 
 which Seppi did not want, and which Archi- 
 bald prudently advised should be kept for him 
 " against a rainy day." The boy seemed now 
 determined to get at his property, for he took 
 his knife and cut the slit into a large round 
 hole, through which the treasure within poured 
 in a silver stream. Seppi showed his white 
 glistening teeth in a smile the broadest ever 
 known, and his black eyes seemed dancing in 
 his head, as he filled his cap with the silver 
 coins, and laid it beside Cola on the table. 
 <'See, the Signor has plenty of money, and he 
 can go to London as soon as he likes," whis- 
 pered the faithful Italian to his beloved master. 
 
 The latter would hardly believe his eyes, 
 until Seppi showed him the money-box ; and 
 then he could not imagine that the contents 
 were so much. Untouched, they had gone 
 on, accumulating, from year to year until 
 Seppi counted ten pounds in silver, on the table. 
 
 Cola was long proof against the earnest en- 
 treaties of his humble friend, that he would take 
 this money, the fruit of his own handiwork. At 
 last he saw that Seppi was becoming deeply 
 pained by his refusal, and Archibald's often-used 
 argument against false pride rose to his memory. 
 
 li
 
 THE END OF COLa's SCHOOL-DAYS. 83 
 
 On the other hand, all the pleasure and suc- 
 cess of a life which had been his highest am- 
 bition seemed spread out before him — to let the 
 kind offer of the artist whom we shall entitle 
 Mr. Crome, remain unnoticed, appeared al- 
 most ingratitude. Cola could not give up all 
 for a mere scruple of pride at receiving a favor 
 from an inferior, whose greatest pleasure it was 
 to bestow it. He took the boy's rough hand 
 in his. 
 
 " Seppi, my good Seppi, you shall give me 
 the money since you are so kind, and we will 
 go to London together." 
 
 And so they did, as master and man, and 
 not so utterly unprovided either, for the good 
 Doctor Birch, when he heard the story and 
 read the artist's letter, not only advised his 
 young usher to go, but was fully impressed 
 with the idea which had only lately unfolded 
 itself to his mind, that his late pupil might be- 
 come a great man some day. Partly out of 
 this fancy, but chiefly from real kindness, the 
 doctor actually took a number of Cola's 
 sketches, and placed in his hand another ten 
 pounds to help him on when he got to London. 
 
 So the two set out on their journey, bravely 
 and hopefully. And they were right ; for the
 
 84 STORY OF A GENIUS, 
 
 grand secret of success is a determination to 
 let nothing thwart us in gaining it. Cola cer- 
 tainly had not any Whittington-like notions of 
 London streets being paved with gold, and did 
 not expect to find there a fortune ready made ; 
 but he argued, sensibly enough, that sui'ely he 
 could work in town as he had done in the 
 country, only with ten times more advantages. 
 As for little Seppi, he thought in his simplicity, 
 that if the worst came to the worst, he could 
 take to organ-playing again, for himself and 
 his dear Signor.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 
 
 It was five years since Cola had been in 8 
 large town of any kind. London he had neve) 
 t>een in his life. He unconsciously looked for 
 ward to it, in that sort of mysterious curiositj 
 with which country people always regard the 
 unknown metropolis, as a grand place, very 
 delightful, and rather wicked. Something too 
 was added by the quick southern imagination 
 of the youth, and his faint childish memories 
 of Rome, the only city he ever knew — Rome, 
 with her stately palaces and gorgeous churches, 
 the queenly capital of the South, seated on her 
 seven hills. 
 
 Thoughts like these passed through the boy's 
 mind, when he found himself whirled through 
 the midland counties in a second-class rail- 
 way-carriage, for that was the very unroman- 
 tic way in which the new aspirant for fame 
 went to London to seek his fortune. Seppi sat 
 with him, but the little organ-boy treated his
 
 86 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 young master with the most deferential respect, 
 and never spoke, unless he was addressed first. 
 At the commoncemont of their journey, Cola 
 had talked to him a great deal in their nativ 
 language, much to tlie astonishment and suspi 
 cion of a cross-looking old lady opposite, who 
 wondered what strange fellow-passengers she 
 had got, and how a nice respectable young 
 gentleman should be on such friendly terms 
 with a shabby little Italian boy. She kept 
 glancing angrily at Seppi, and Seppi returned 
 the compliment, even though he did feel rather 
 shy and uncomfortable in his new position. So 
 there was a petty warfare maintained between 
 them during great part of the journey ; and 
 peace seemed further off than ever, when the 
 old lady, who sat in the sheltered back-scat, 
 persisted in having the window up, though the 
 chilly air of a thorough wet day pierced to the 
 very bones of the poor little thinly-clad for- 
 eigner opposite. 
 
 " Change seats with me Seppi ; I 'm older 
 and stronger than you," cried his good-natured 
 master, after a vain expostulation with their 
 cross neighbor. 
 
 But it was not likely that Seppi could con- 
 sent to anything of the sort ; he would have
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 87 
 
 sat to be frozen to death, rather than even suf- 
 fer his dear Signor's hands to get chilly. So 
 he protested that he did not feel at all cold ; 
 and meanwhile his poor little nose grew bluer 
 and bluer, and the rain beat in, and hung in 
 large drops on his thin jacket, until his cheer- 
 ful face began to lengthen considerably, and 
 his master grew thoroughly miserable. This 
 was rather a gloomy commencement of their 
 adventures, and it made Cola feel that if inde- 
 pendence has its pleasures, it has also its re- 
 sponsibilities. 
 
 " Seppi, how I wish we had a cloak or a 
 rug of some kind ! what a pity we never 
 thought of buying one !" was his uncomfort- 
 able reflection. 
 
 " We could not buy everything, — that is, 
 the Signer could not, with the little money he 
 had ; and if he is not cold, why Seppi is quite 
 satisfied," was the organ-boy's answer, as he 
 rolled himself up in a corner, and showed 
 his white teeth, with an apparently contented 
 smile, though, poor fellow, they were chatter- 
 ing in his head all the while. 
 
 Cola Monti then experienced, for the first 
 time since he had begun to think and feel — 
 not as a boy but as a man — how bitter it is to
 
 88 
 
 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 be poor. The next minute he learned how 
 much bitterer it is to be proud as well. Fol- 
 lowing Seppi's eyes, he saw them rest wist- 
 fully on a rug that lay beside him, the pro- 
 perty of a great bluff farmer, who dozed awaj^ 
 at the further end of the carriage : he deter- 
 mined to beg the loan of it, the very next time 
 the farmer opened his eyes. But ere then 
 pride whispered in the youth's ear, "Don't, 
 Cola Monti ! It is demeaning yourself. Re- 
 member how gruffly the fellow answered you, 
 when you made a civil remark on starting; 
 think how he muttered something about these 
 vagabonds ' o' furriners.' Do n't trouble your- 
 self to ask anything of him." 
 
 Cola hesitated, looked at his poor shivering 
 companion, and then, to use an expressive 
 phrase, " put his pride in his pocket." He 
 had to button it up close, though, or it would 
 have crept out again. At the next station the 
 farmer woke up. 
 
 " Sir," said Cola, turning very red, and 
 speaking hastily, " if you don't want that nice 
 warm railway rug, would you have any ob. 
 jection to lend it ?" 
 
 " Take it — choke theeself in it, only dunna
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 89 
 
 bother me," grumbled the farmer, turning 
 round again for another nap. 
 
 " Thanlv you, sir, but I do n't want it for 
 myself; 't is for this poor little fellow here ; — 
 he is so cold !" 
 
 " Eh, what, him there ? noa, noa, you 're 
 welcome to it yoursel', young feller, for you 
 looks like a gentleman, though you are a fur- 
 riner, but I canna give it that dirty little 
 beeijar." 
 
 " He is not dirty, and he 's no more a beggar 
 than yourself," was the indignant reply that 
 rose to Cola's lips. But he swallowed his 
 wrath; Archy had taught him that lesson. "I 
 beg your pardon, sir, but you are mistaken,'' 
 he said, as quietly as he could. " Take the 
 trouble to look at him, and you will see that, 
 though his clothes are poor, they are quite 
 clean ; and he is no beggar, he is my little 
 servant." 
 
 " And pray young sir," asked the farmer, 
 now thoroughly awakened, and rather amused 
 than otherwise at the spirit of the boy, " pray 
 what may you be yoursel' ?" 
 
 "Just what you said — a gentleman," was 
 the somewhat lofty answer. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho ! What a deal of 
 8*
 
 90 STORY OP A GENIUS. 
 
 pluck he has !" cried Cola's fellow-traveller, 
 bursting into the uproarious laugh which 
 seems peculiar to English farmers. " Dunna 
 be savage, my fine feller," he added, seeing 
 the youth's brow darken. "No offence, no 
 offence ; ye may tak' t' blanket and welcome, 
 for that grand footman o' yourn ; only mind 
 he don't steal it, that's all. Ha, ha!" And 
 he very unceremoniously threw the disputed 
 article over the carriage to Cola, who felt 
 strongly inclined to throw it back again in his 
 face. But the impulse was resisted, and next 
 moment poor shivering Seppi rejoiced in the 
 
 warm covennij. 
 
 The cross old lady wondered how some 
 people could be imposed upon by the brazen 
 faces of some other people ; but that was al- 
 ways the way in which these foreigners coaxed 
 John Bull out of everything. 
 
 " I tell 'ee what, ma'am," said the farmer, 
 whose generosity was roused by opposition, " a 
 French chap feels cold just as much as an 
 Englisher, 'specially if he be a little un. If 
 you 've ever a little Jacky or Billy o' yer own 
 at whome, (which I dunna think is the case, or 
 you 'd not be so cross-grain'd,)" this was said 
 in a half-audible aside, " ye wunna grumble at
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 91 
 
 my doin' a good turn to this here lad. Come, 
 young 'un," continued he, roused still more 
 by the old lady's contemptuous toss of the 
 head, " tak' a drop o' sommat to keep thee 
 warm." 
 
 And he produced a bottle for Seppi's benefit, 
 who, faint, tired, and cold, took a few sips, 
 and then, made drowsy by the dose, and also 
 by the motion of the carriage, fell comfortably 
 asleep in the corner. His burly protector 
 soon did the same, and Cola was left to his 
 own meditations. 
 
 He did not feel quite so hopeful as he had 
 done a few hours before, when crossing fifteen 
 miles of open country, which lay between Doc- 
 tor Birch's house and the nearest railway-sta- 
 tion, in that worthy pedagogue's own chaise. 
 Then it was a lovely fine morning ; but it had 
 changed, as June mornings will do, into a wet 
 cheerless day, almost like winter. This, per- 
 haps, had no slight effect on Cola's mind, for 
 in common with all sensitive temperaments, 
 he was very susceptible to the influence of 
 weather. And, besides, as the first excite- 
 ment of the journey passed away, and a wear! 
 ness crept over him, he began to feel the natural 
 sensations of one who has for five years, night
 
 92 STORY OF A GENITJS. 
 
 after night, gone to sleep under the same roof, 
 and now wanders from it, quite uncertain 
 where he shall this evening take his rest. The 
 vague project — " seeking one's fortune in Lon- 
 don" resolved itself into small realities, not 
 quite so pleasant, and for the moment he almost 
 wished himself back in the Doctor's school- 
 room, hearing his class drone over their eternal 
 io sono, til sei, egli e. 
 
 But such a brave spirit as Cola's could not 
 long think thus. Soon he drove away all dis- 
 appointment and determined to be happy. 
 Many a man has become moderately content 
 from this very resolve. Try it, my young 
 friends, when you are inclined to despond ; set 
 resolutely before you all the good fortune that 
 your condition affords, and in most cases you 
 will find that if it does not outweigh, it at least 
 equals the bad. 
 
 Cola did so. If on this miserable wet day 
 he was going to London, a lad only seventeen, 
 an orphan, having in that great city but two 
 friends, one of whom he had never seen — still, 
 on the other hand, he was young, healthy, had 
 had a good education, and was acknowledged 
 to possess talent in his beloved Art ; there was 
 his faithful little servant to watch over his com-
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 93 
 
 forts and cheei* him in every way ; and in his 
 pocket lay twenty pounds and the letter of Mr. 
 Crome. Things were not looking so very 
 black, after all. 
 
 Besides, every mile — no, every twenty miles, 
 for in the lightning-railway one only comits by 
 scores — brought him nearer to the welcome of 
 Archibald McKaye. Cola had not told his 
 friend of this proposed journey, intending to 
 surprise him with the meeting; and perhaps 
 withheld partly from a slight doubt whether the 
 ultra-prudent Archy would not consider the 
 expedition rather a wild-goose chase, and there- 
 fore expostulate a little. 
 
 " But when I am really there, he will be so 
 glad to see me ! yes, I know he will !" mused 
 Cola ; " and then I can talk so much better 
 than I can write, and explain all. He does 
 not know much about Art, or care much for it ; 
 but he is a dear, good, sensible fellow, is Archy 
 McKaye. How glad I am he lives in London !" 
 
 And in anticipating over this meeting, and 
 the somewhat more formidable one with the 
 great unseen artist. Cola found the train had 
 reached Harrow, which he knew was not far 
 from their journey's end. He felt a feverish 
 excitement, and could not help peering rest.
 
 94 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 k 
 
 lessly out of the carriage window. It was 
 close down now, thanks to the hurly farmer's 
 interference. The di'izzly misty evening only 
 revealed the stras^lina: outskirts which lie be- 
 tween Willesdon and Euston Square. There 
 could hardly be a less imposing entrance to 
 any city : it seems like creeping into London 
 the back way. Cola distinguished small half- 
 built streets, work-sheds, brickfields, here and 
 there a garden, until gradually the houses be- 
 came thicker ; and though no city could be 
 seen in the distance, there rose up the cloud 
 of smoke and fog which perpetually overhangs 
 the great metropolis. 
 
 *' Tell me, Seppi, for you have been here 
 before, tell me, is that London ?" cried Cola to 
 his young companion, who now, refreshed by 
 his long sleep, began to rub his eyes and look 
 about liim. 
 
 " Si, Signor, yes, master, it is indeed," an- 
 swered the little Italian. " Is it like what the 
 Signor expected ?" — Seppi always addressed 
 Cola in the third person, the customary Italian 
 form of showing respect to a superior. 
 
 "Not quite." 
 
 " I knew it, I knew it : a smoky, disagree- 
 able, ugly city, is this Londra, and not at all
 
 BEGINNING THE "WORLD. 95 
 
 SO fine as hella Roma." Then recollecting 
 himself, Seppi added, " But I will not speak ill 
 of it, if il Signormo mio makes his fortune there, 
 as indeed he is sure to do ; and then perhaps, 
 when he is a great artist, he will taice poor 
 Seppi with him to see lella Roma once more." 
 
 " We will never be parted ; you shall go 
 with me wherever I go, my dear little friend," 
 cried Seppi's master affectionately; and then 
 the simultaneous rousing of their sleepy fellow- 
 passengers, and the call outside for " Tickets 
 ready, gentlemen," betokened that they had 
 come to their journey's end. Soon the train 
 stopped: out jumped the burly former, having 
 acknowledged the thankfully-restored rug with 
 a careless nod, though he made no allusion to 
 stealing it now. Out scrambled the cross old 
 lady, after hunting under both seats for vari- 
 ous small packages, and vociferously accusing 
 Seppi of having sat down upon a band-box, 
 which had been under her own feet the whole 
 time. At last Cola and his protege alighted 
 also, and found themselves on the platform in 
 Euston Square. 
 
 There was little doubt of their being in Lon- 
 don now. Such a confusion ! — Omnibuses 
 rattling, cabmen shouting, porters jostling to
 
 96 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 and fro, clamorous passengers hunting for lug- 
 gage in every possible place but the right one, 
 and finding every one's property except their 
 own. No wonder the scene bewildered our 
 two young foreigners, for even Cola knew Eng- 
 lish manners and customs only through the 
 medium of Doctor Birch's academy. He and 
 Seppi stood together beside their small box, 
 like two lost sheep in the crowd : attacked on 
 every side by enquiries concerning omnibuses, 
 cabs, and porters. Cola only shook his head ; 
 he really could not tell where to go or what to 
 do. He wished he had written for Archy to 
 meet them, but wishing was useless now. 
 
 At length his shoulder was brushed by the 
 stout farmer. 
 
 " What, my young fui'rineering gentleman, 
 not gone yet ? you '11 be turned out directly 
 to mak' ready for another train. No stopping 
 and wondering in a place like Lon'on, I 
 reckon." 
 
 Cola looked very disconsolate, and Seppi too. 
 
 " What 's t' matter ? hast got na money?" 
 asked the blunt but good-natured farmer. 
 
 Cola's cheek crimsoned : " Of course I have, 
 sir ! but it is late, and I do n't know whore to 
 go for the night ; I never was in London be-
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 97 
 
 fore. Is there any inn to which you can direct, 
 me ?" asked he, with a rather dignified air, 
 for he remembered he was seventeen, and it 
 was necessary to put off the bo}' and assume 
 the man. 
 
 " Direct 'ee lad ? Oh, aye, to some hun- 
 dreds, where they '11 fleece thee in a pretty 
 fashion. What made thy feyther send thee to 
 Lon'on all by thyself ? I would n't ha' done 
 it by my Dick !" 
 
 Tears started to Cola's eyes. "Nor would 
 my dear father, if he were alive," he mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " What, that 's it, is it ? Poor lad, I'm sorry 
 for thee !" said the other, with compassionate 
 interest in his great rough face. " Gie us thy 
 hand, I '11 tak' thee where thee can stop the 
 night ; ay, and that young Flibbertigibbet too," 
 he added, seeing Cola looked hesitatingly to- 
 wards his little servant. " I 'm not afeard of 
 either o' yees stealing anything now. Come 
 alon 
 
 55 
 
 And" in a few minutes more, the young ad- 
 venturers were hoisted on the top of an omni- 
 bus, beside their new acquaintance, who took 
 them to an inn near Mark Lane, whei'e he in- 
 variably put up. Unaccustomed to travelling 
 
 9
 
 98 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 as both boys were, they felt heartily glad to 
 eat their bread and chesse supper, and then 
 escape from the noisy crowd of farmers to a 
 small attic ; too tired to do anything but go to 
 sleep. Cola crept into the little bed, while 
 Seppi, unused to more luxurious habits, gath- 
 ered himself up in a ball, something like a 
 young hedgehog, and lay down at his master's 
 feet. Both were soon asleep — to use a favorite 
 expression at Doctor Birch's — " as sound as a 
 top." 
 
 This was Cola Monti's first night in London.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 AN OLD FKIEND IN A NEW LIGHT. 
 
 Cola woke the next morning, dreaming that 
 he was at school again, and that somehow or 
 other his class was all composed of great stout 
 farmers, Avho would persist in repeating their 
 Italian verbs with a strong Staffordshire accent. 
 The dream vanished under the influence of a 
 bright sunbeam that crept through the small 
 uncurtained window, and just reached his 
 nose. In London, the good-natured sun is 
 more partial to attic windows than to any other, 
 and it made Cola's tiny room quite cheerful. 
 From thence he looked, not at the street, which 
 lay many feet below, but skywards, where, 
 above the tops of the houses, he could see the 
 great dome of St. Paul's lifting itself up grand 
 and giant-like, with its ball and cross glistening 
 in the clear light of early morning. 
 
 This was the first sight that struck Cola in 
 London. His artist-mind felt it to the utter- 
 most. The numberless streets below seemed
 
 100 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 SO solemn and quiet, lying in the shadow of the 
 scarcely risen sun ; and though even now the 
 sounds of life were beginning to stir, they were 
 but faint as yet, while over the dark and half- 
 awakened city watched its great temple, already 
 illumined with the sunbeams. It was a scene 
 that Cola never forgot, and never will while he 
 lives. 
 
 He stood several minutes at the window, and 
 then crept quietly to bed again, for it was too 
 early to rise, and he did not want to disturb 
 the heavy slumbers of poor tired Seppi. But 
 he himself could not go to sleep again ; his 
 heart was too full. He lay thinking many 
 deep and serious thoughts, such as, perhaps, 
 would never come into the head of a youth of 
 seventeen, unless placed in Cola's situation. 
 
 My dear boy-readers, you who have a father 
 to guide you, a mother to love you, and per- 
 haps many other family ties to make you a 
 pleasant home, I dare say you think it would 
 be a fine thing to find yourself in such an 
 independent position, with no one to restrain 
 or command you — ready for any adventure. 
 Would not you like it very much, instead of 
 being under the rule of tutors abroad, or when 
 at home obliged to submit to " the governor" ?
 
 AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW LIGHT. 101 
 
 And yet if you once tried the experiment, I 
 doubt if you would not soon find out, as Cola 
 did, that it is a desolate thing, to be one's own 
 master. 
 
 Cola had a vague notion that living at inns 
 was expensive, and that even twenty pounds 
 would not hold out forever. He thousht he 
 ought to try and get settled somewhere that 
 very day, even before he allowed himself to 
 go and see Mr. Crome. Perhaps he almost 
 wished to delay this momentous visit, which, 
 delicious in the distance, grew formidable as 
 the time drew near. But how, in this wide 
 London, was he to set about finding a tempo- 
 rary home ? 
 
 " I wish I knew where to go, or that I had 
 somebody to advise me," he sighed. And 
 then he thought of sensible, friendly Archy 
 McKaye. " That 's it !" cried the boy, jump- 
 ing out of bed ; " the best thing I can do is to 
 go to Archy." 
 
 He dressed himself with a light heart, and 
 then awoke Seppi. They both soon descended, 
 and after losing their way once or twice in 
 the large old rambling inn, sat down in the 
 commercial room and breakfasted. Then Cola, 
 taking upon himself all the responsibilities of 
 
 8*
 
 102 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 his position, called for the bill ; but the kind- 
 hearted farmer had paid it an hour before. 
 
 " I '11 never judge people by their outside 
 appearance again," thought Cola, repentantly. 
 " And if ever I catch myself indulging in 
 foolish pride, I '11 smother myself — or it, which 
 will perhaps be the best plan." 
 
 So, having begun the day with these two 
 excellent resolutions, and left his box at the 
 inn, not without a hope that when he came to 
 fetch it, he might light upon the good farmer, 
 and have an opportunity of paying the warm 
 thanks he owed. Cola set out for the office 
 where Archy spent his time from nine till five 
 every day. Seppi, who followed his master 
 like his very shadow, was not left behind ; 
 and indeed young Monti could not have 
 threaded his way through the strange, bust- 
 ling, bewildering city streets, but for the guid- 
 ance of his little servant. 
 
 " And is this where you used to go about 
 playing your organ, Scppi ? I wonder the 
 noise did not drive you crazy," said Cola, as 
 they passed the Bank, and entered Cheapside, 
 which seemed insufferably close to the country 
 boy. " Oh ! what a disagreeable place Lon- 
 don is ! at least this end of it. How did you 
 
 I
 
 AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW LIGHT. 103 
 
 manage to breathe here, my poor little fel- 
 low ?" 
 
 " It was much worse where I lived," an- 
 swered Seppi with a shudder. " The Signor 
 has never seen St. Giles's ; ah ! the horrible 
 place ! And that cruel master, who sent us 
 out every morning with our organs — we poor 
 lads ! — and thrashed us and starved us at 
 night, if we did not bring back money enough. 
 What a miserable life it was ! But the noble 
 generous Signor took me out of it, and I will 
 bless him every day until I die," gratefully 
 murmured the little Italian in his own lan- 
 guage, which indeed he generally spoke, only 
 we put his conversation in English, lest our 
 readers might require an interlinear translation. 
 
 So talking, master and man came to Bread- 
 Street, Cheapside, where McKaye's address 
 was. 
 
 " McBean, McCulloch, and McGillivray, all 
 Macs," said Cola, laughing, as he read the 
 names on the door. " We are right, I know ; 
 Archy's people always keep together." 
 
 He entered a little dark office, on the ground- 
 floor of what seemed an immense warehouse. 
 There was no one there, but a dry, dusty-look- 
 mg old man, perched behind a high desk.
 
 104 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Cola went boldly up to him, an^i asked to see 
 Archibald McKaye. 
 
 " Is it the new laddie ye 're come to speer 
 for ? Ye 're a freend, may be," was the an- 
 swer, in Scotch, so broad, that, accustomed as 
 he was to Archy's northern speech. Cola could 
 hardly make it out. And the cautious ques- 
 tioner eyed him over from head to foot, appa- 
 rently thinking such a tall, handsome, gentle- 
 manly youth rather a novel customer in Bread- 
 Street. 
 
 "I want to see Mr. Archibald McKaye," 
 persisted Cola ; " can you tell me where he 
 is?" 
 
 " I dinna ken that over weel, and I canna 
 waste precious time in hunting out our office 
 laddies. Ye '11 find him somewhere up above ;" 
 and the old clerk lifted one thumb in the di- 
 rection of the ceiling, and buried his spectacled 
 nose again in his large ledger. 
 
 The quick-tempered Italian felt half vexed, 
 but he turned to ascend the mouldy old stair- 
 case, Scppi still following. At the top of the 
 first flight he saw, in the dim light — it never 
 seemed to be clear daylight at Bread-street — 
 a figure buried among a heap of cotton bales. 
 He repeated the inquiry for Archy McKaye.
 
 AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW LIGHT. 105 
 
 The individual addressed cleared at a bound 
 half-a-dozen cotton bales, and stood before 
 him. 
 
 " Why, Cola Monti, what in the name of 
 fortune brought you here ?" reached the boy's 
 ear in the most gleeful tones of Archy's very 
 own voice, otherwise Cola would never have 
 believed that it was really his old friend. 
 
 McKaye certainly looked a queer figure. 
 He had grown taller than ever — quite a man 
 indeed ; but he was very thin, and his clear 
 fresh complexion had become pale and sodden. 
 He was without his coat, and bits of white cot- 
 ton stuck all over his clothes and his hair. 
 At another time Cola would have laughed 
 heartily at the odd appearance of his old 
 schoolmate, but now his affectionate heart 
 could only prompt the warm hand-grasp, and 
 the cry — 
 
 " Archy, dear Archy, is it really you ?" 
 
 " Why, I suppose it is, though I do n't look 
 much like myself, you mean," said McKaye, 
 perhaps rather annoyed for the moment at be- 
 ing found in such a trim, for in his way he 
 was as proud as Cola. " But you know, my 
 good fellow, I 'm a man of business now. 
 Everybody works here. I 'm not a bit ashamed
 
 106 STORY OF A GENIirS. 
 
 of myself," said he resolutely, as he knocked 
 the cotton fragments off his clothes. 
 
 *' Indeed you need not ; I am only too glad 
 to see you anyhow, anywhere," Cola joyfully 
 cried. 
 
 " To be sure ; so am I. Now, Cola, sit 
 down here," and he hauled a bag from the 
 heap, " and tell me what on earth you have 
 come to London for." 
 
 The explanation was given as shortly and lu- 
 cidly as possible. Archy looked wondering — 
 doubtful : but except an unconscious "Hem!" 
 once or twice, he said nothing to discourage his 
 friend's bright hopes ; he was too kind-hearted. 
 And besides, he felt keenly how pleasant it 
 was to look on an old face in this wide desert 
 of London. But ere Cola's story was quite 
 ended, there was a call above for " McKaye." 
 
 " Business before pleasure ! I can't stay and 
 talk any more, Cola," said he, rising hastily. 
 " Come and see me to-night at home — that 
 is, where I lodge, I wont call it home. Mind 
 you come ! but I forgot you do n't know your 
 way." And he proceeded with the thoughtful 
 consideration of his character, to give minute 
 directions for finding a certain street in Is- 
 lington.
 
 AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW LIGHT. 107 
 
 " Oh, Seppi will make it out," answered Cola. 
 
 " What, my old friend Seppi ! you hav' n't 
 brought him with you ? Come out, my little 
 fellow, and let us have a look at your brown 
 face !" cried Archy, dragging the Italian from 
 the dark corner where he had submissively kept 
 aloof. 
 
 " Seppi very glad to see English Signor ; 
 poor Seppi never forget kind Signor Inglese,'^ 
 stammered the organ-boy, pulling his black 
 curly forelock, in acknowledgement of the rec- 
 ognition. 
 
 " Thank you, little Seppi ; only you make a 
 slight mistake as to the country : I do n't think 
 I am any more of a Sassenach for living in 
 London," said Archy, rather proudly. His 
 strong nationality marked the young High- 
 lander even in Bread-Street. It vvould have 
 gladdened the heart of the old father at Aber- 
 deen, who had sacrificed so many time-hon- 
 ored family prejudices, before his own good 
 sense and that of his excellent boy triumphed 
 at last, and the descendant of no one knows 
 how many great McKayes became clerk in a 
 merchant's warehouse. 
 
 They descended the dark creaking staircase 
 ** I dare say you think this a dirty miserable
 
 108 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 place, Cola," said the elder of the two friends; 
 *' and yet 't is a great firm, this of ours : we 've 
 ^ot ships all over the world ; every merchant 
 in London knows our three Macs. Their word 
 or bond is as good as the Bank of Ensjland. 
 But you don't understand this." 
 
 " Not quite," was the smiling answer. 
 " Well, Archy, I suppose some of these days 
 you will be a great merchant too." 
 
 " I will try. It is a grand thing to be rich ; 
 that is, when one makes a good use of it," said 
 the conscientious Archy. " It is pleasant, too, 
 to send ships abroad, stretching one's hands 
 over the wide world, so to speak. Yes ! I '11 
 work night and day but I '11 be a merchani 
 some time." And as McKaye spoke, there 
 was in his quiet resolute tone aiM firmly set 
 lip an earnest of that strong patient energy 
 which, soon or late, always carries out its end. 
 
 Yet, as Cola made his way up the close 
 dingy street, and thought of the little back 
 office, the ledger, and the cotton -bags, his 
 mind, cast in a totally different mould, revolted 
 from the idea of a lifetime^ a whole preciou? 
 lifetime, spent in such scenes. 
 
 " Archy may be right, he always is," said 
 the young Italian to himself; "but I would 
 rather be an artist after all."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HELP IN SEASON. 
 
 Monti, — we ought to give him his surname 
 occasionally, as he is growing a man now, — 
 had a whole day before him, with nothing to 
 do. This was very irksome, for his morning's 
 reflections had wound him up to such a high 
 pitch of enthusiastic energyj — and Cola's 
 energy was generally two-thirds composed of 
 impulse, which must begin at once to expend 
 itself. He found it really hard to have to 
 wander idly about London for the space of six 
 hours ; more especially as mere outward sight- 
 seeing was not his element. An inveterate 
 sight-seer is generally a man all eyes and no 
 brains. 
 
 Cola bethought himself of a place, which to 
 him contained all the riches of London — the 
 National Gallery. Thither he went, still fol- 
 lowed by his ever-faithful attendant. And it 
 is but just to say, that while many a fine 
 young gentleman would have felt considerably 
 10
 
 110 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 annoyed at having to walk through London 
 streets accompanied by the poor little Italian 
 in his clean, but shabby suit of velveteen, Cola 
 Monti never experienced the slightest mortifi- 
 cation, he was at once too humble and too 
 proud. 
 
 I shall not enlarge upon the feelings of the 
 boy-artist, when he beheld for the first time 
 this grand collection of paintings. He had 
 seen many in his childhood ; but the memory 
 of them was grown dim. He looked on 
 these with the sensations of one blind, who 
 re-enters a long-forgotten world with his eyes 
 opened. He began to understand, and to feel 
 what Art really was. This new sense dazzled 
 and overwhelmed him ; his heart beat wildly, 
 he trembled, and fairly subdued with emotion, 
 he sat down in the darkest corner he could 
 find, turned his face away into the shadow, 
 while the tears rose, large and silently, to the 
 long lashes, and dropped on the arm which he 
 raised to hide them. 
 
 Now, my dear readers, I dare say nine out 
 of ten of you think Cola Monti a very foolish 
 fellow — a girl, a " cry-baby," &c., &c. The 
 reason is, you do n't understand him, you nine 
 excellent fellows, who will, I trust, grow up
 
 HELP IN SEASON. Ill 
 
 respectable members of society. But the 
 tenth of you, may be what Cola was — a genius. 
 The boy's feeling was perfectly sincei'e and 
 true to nature ; that is, to the nature of genius. 
 But fully to comprehend the workings of a 
 mind like his, requires one of similar char- 
 acter and power. If you are disposed to laugh 
 at him, or anyone like him, think that possibly 
 the fault may be with your own selves. And 
 even taking the contrary argument, remember 
 that the wise man, while condemning, pities ; 
 it is the fool only who scoffs. 
 
 Cola was roused by a whisper from Seppi. — 
 
 " Signor mio carissimo, look there, at that 
 little old gentleman ! it is the very artist whom 
 I saw, who wrote the letter. Speak to him ; 
 he has not seen me, but he has been looking 
 at the Signor for a long time." 
 
 And indeed he had. Cola felt that this very 
 minute the keen but kindly grey eyes were 
 reading him through and through. He grew 
 hot and cold ; he could hardly breathe. At 
 last, with a desperate courage, he went up to 
 the artist, and spoke as he never would have 
 spoken but for the excitement of the last ten 
 minutes. 
 
 "Sir, Mr. Crome, forgive me if I am too
 
 112 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 bold, but you are a great artist, and I would 
 give everything in this world to become one. 
 Did you really mean what you told me in this 
 letter ?" 
 
 The old painter looked at the paper, recog- 
 nized it with a smile, but with no outward 
 manifestation of surprise, for he was a gentle- 
 man of sedate, polished manners ; a court art- 
 ist. Then he glanced at the youth, noticed the 
 quivering lip, the kindling eye, put his hand 
 out cordially, but still composedly, and said, 
 
 "Yes, my young friend, I really did. Are 
 you come to London to prove the truth of both 
 my offer and my prophesy ?" 
 
 Cola could scarcely murmer a few inarticu- 
 late thanks. 
 
 " Well, young gentleman," said the consid- 
 erate painter, " wait here half-an-hour, and I 
 will come and have some talk with you." 
 And he moved away with a footstep as silken 
 soft as his voice and smile. It really gave him 
 pleasure to find that the youth whose beautiful 
 features and intellectual head had attracted his 
 artist-eye, was the same unknown draughts- 
 man whose productions had struck him during 
 his country tour. 
 
 Mr. Crome was no enthusiastic philanthro.
 
 HELP IN SEASON. 113 
 
 pist, only a kind hearted sensible man. He 
 had not the slightest intention of performing 
 any grand feat of generosity towards Cola, 
 such as adopting or instructing him. He had 
 almost forgotten the letter, written under an 
 impulse of good-natured appreciation ; but 
 when it was again brought to his memory, he 
 determined to keep his promise, and give the 
 young artist all the encouragement he could. 
 Perhaps this determination would have been 
 less warm, had not Cola's personal appearance 
 and manners interested him, for Mr. Crome 
 was a gentleman of refined taste. Even his 
 Art was with him less an enthusiasm than a 
 genteel profession, which brought him under 
 the gracious notice of royalty and nobility. 
 
 In half-an-hour the same bland smile and 
 low 'voice came to charm Cola's inmost heart. 
 " We cannot talk here, my young friend ; will 
 you accompany me to my house ?" 
 
 The boy joyfully assented ; Seppi, ever 
 thoughtful and respectful, whispering that he 
 would wait for his dear Signor in the gallery. 
 Ere Cola could believe in the reality of his 
 good fortune, he stood in that paradise of his 
 dreams, an artist's studio. 
 
 The room was hardly such as he could have 
 ' 10*
 
 114 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 pictured the sacred spot where Michael An- 
 gelo or Rafllielle worked. It was a luxurious, 
 elegant apartment, adorned to please the taste 
 of wealthy sitters. It contained many por- 
 traits, a few historical pictures, and casts of 
 celebrated statues. The former Cola did not 
 notice much, but over the two latter his eyes 
 lingered with unspeakable delight. Gazing on 
 them, he felt his soul expand : his countenance 
 brightened, his tread grew firmer, and his tim- 
 idity passed away. The boy of genius had 
 found his true element at last. 
 
 Mr. Crome watched his new .acquaintance 
 with curiosity and interest. By degrees he 
 drew out all Cola's little history, and the inter- 
 est deepened more and more. 
 
 "I am glad you are an Italian," said he. 
 " I love Italy : I spent many years there in my 
 youth, and painted many pictures too. Look 
 here !" and he showed Cola one or two Nea- 
 politan and Roman scenes, so vividly pour- 
 trayed that the youth almost wept at the child- 
 ish memories they brought. The artist was 
 flattered, nay, touched. He laid his hand on 
 Cola's shoulder, and said warmly, — 
 
 " My dear boy, you are of the right sort. 
 You will make a painter. Now sit down and
 
 HELP IN SEASON. 115 
 
 let us see how we are to set about it. To what 
 branch of Art would your taste lead you ?" 
 
 " To the highest : I want to paint great his- 
 torical pictures," cried the boy enthusiasti- 
 cally. 
 
 Mr. Crome shook his head. " It will not do 
 in these days: your high Art painters are al- 
 ways in poverty. Try a little lower : begin, 
 as I did, by portrait-painting." 
 
 Cola's countenance fell. "I do not like 
 that half so well. It is hard to waste time in 
 reproducing ugly faces, when one longs to 
 paint ideal beauty." And then Cola stopped, 
 confused, for he remembered the portraits 
 around the room, and one even on the easel. 
 
 The court-artist looked nettled. " It must 
 be done, though, unless you prefer to starve. 
 You talk, my good sir, like all young artists ; 
 but you will lower your tone by and by, and 
 think it no disgrace to tread in the footsteps of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds and Sir Thomas Law- 
 rence." 
 
 " Indeed 1 do not now," answered Cola, 
 humbly. And then he had tact enough to 
 make no more apologies, but let the conversa. 
 tion change of itself. 
 
 Mr. Crome spoke of various ways in which
 
 116 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 he could assist the fortunes of the young art- 
 ist, promised to give him introductions to sev- 
 eral friends, among whom were names so high 
 in Art, that Cola was ready to dance with joy. 
 He also threw out a few good-natured hints as 
 to the proper course of study, advised him to 
 go the British Museum, and draw from the an- 
 tique, and promised to give him the necessary 
 recommendation, when he should be competent 
 enough to enter as a probationer at the Royal 
 Academy. 
 
 " And remember I shall always be happy to 
 see you here, Signor del Monti ; you must 
 allow me to refi'esh my tongue by the long-dis- 
 used Italian," said the artist, with a courtly 
 but pleasant smile. " Still, on the whole I 
 would recommend you to waive that sweet- 
 sounding name, and be plain Mr. Monti." 
 
 " I will do all you tell me, kind, generous 
 friend," cried Cola, in a wild impulse of grati- 
 tude. And when Mr. Crome's aristocratic- 
 lookinsr footman closed the door after him, the 
 boy walked down Berners Street, his heart 
 beating almost deliriously with hope and joy. 
 Oh ! how bright, how glorious the future 
 looked ! To be an artist, to lead a life among 
 all beautiful things, perhaps to rise to fame !
 
 HELP IN SEASON. 117 
 
 He would not have exchanged destinies with 
 the richest young noble in the kingdom ! 
 
 If those who are celebrated in Art or Liter- 
 ature, who, like Mr. Crome, have reached " the 
 top of the tree," would only think how little it 
 costs them to stretch out a helping hand to 
 those young struggling spirits who are trying 
 to climb after them — ^^even by a few kind words 
 -r•^yhat a great deal of happiness they have in 
 their power to bestow.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LAYING THE FIRST STICK IN THE NEST. 
 
 It was like passing out of light into dark- 
 ness, when, a few hours after leaving Mr. 
 Crome, Cola found himself in the little back- 
 parlor of Street, Islington, where Ar- 
 chibald had directed him. In his anxiety, he 
 was a little before the appointed hour, and was 
 not much surprised, when informed by a dirty 
 slipshod servant, that " Misther McKaye was 
 not come in." So he and the ever-attendant 
 Seppi sat down to wait, very unceremoniously, 
 as the maid evidently thought. 
 
 The time was that dullest and most melan- 
 choly hour in London, about sunset, and the 
 room faced the east. To Cola it appeared the 
 gloomiest he had ever seen in his life, the 
 dirtiest it certainly was. He thought Bread- 
 Street quite delightful in comparison, for that 
 was merely a house of business, while this 
 was the pretence of a home. A very bare and 
 dreary home it looked ; just the walls, carpet,
 
 LAYING THE FIRST STICK IN THE NEST. 119 
 
 chairs, and table, without books, prints, news- 
 papers, or work. The only sign of its being 
 inhabited was a solitary ink-stand ish, with both 
 bottles empty, two stumps of pens, and an inch 
 of red sealing-wax. 
 
 There were a few knocks at the door, and 
 several young men came in successively, stared 
 at Cola and Seppi, and then disposed of them- 
 selves in various ways. Some took out books 
 and tried to read by the dim light, others 
 lounged about talking, or drummed on chair- 
 backs. All seemed alike dull, weary, and dis- 
 pirited. At length McKaye's voice was heard 
 in the hall, and the hearty welcome and warm 
 greeting between the youths brought back to 
 both their old school-days at Doctor Birch's. 
 
 " You must stay for tea : I can ask any vis- 
 itor I like : not that I trouble Mrs. Jones much 
 in that way, though," said Archy, laughing. 
 " She 's the mistress of the house," he added 
 in an explanatory aside. " All tliese are young 
 fellows who board here, like myself, clerks, 
 medical students, and such like. A queer set, 
 though ; I don't see much of them, which is a 
 comfort. But here 's Mrs. Jones." 
 
 And at the same time as tea and candles, 
 (or more properly speaking, the candle,) there
 
 120 STORY OF A (iJENlirS. 
 
 entered the cross old lady of the railway car- 
 riage, looking as cross as ever. Cola glanced 
 at Seppi, who had as usual crept into the dark- 
 est corner lie could find, so that he escaped 
 even the sharp eye of Mrs. Jones. She recog- 
 nized Cola, however, which did not make her 
 tone the milder, when in reply to Archy's polite 
 introduction, she observed : — 
 
 " Very happy to see any friend of any 
 gentleman here, on the usual terms, of course, 
 Mr. McKaye." 
 
 " Of course," repeated Archy, somewhat 
 hastily : he did not want his friend to know 
 that this hospitality cost him half-a-crown. 
 Cola's only impediment to accepting it was 
 Seppi's being with him. 
 
 " What, that little fellow here ? Really, 
 Cola, do you always intend to carry him about 
 with you in this way ?'* was McKaye's amused 
 remonstrance. 
 
 And hereupon, Mrs. Jones having discov- 
 ered her old enemy, insisted upon it that he 
 should quit the parlor for the kitchen. Cola's in- 
 dignation was fast rising, and a warfare threat- 
 ened to break forth, when Seppi put an end 
 to it by creeping out at the hall-door, having 
 just darted the fiercest lightnings of his black
 
 LAYING THE FIRST STICK IN THE NEST. 121 
 
 eyes at Mrs. Jones, and whispered that he 
 would wait for his " dear Signer" in the street. 
 
 " Let him go," said Archy mildly, as Monti 
 wanted to follow. " The lad will be much 
 happier there. And, Cola, I think you are 
 hardly wise in taking Seppi out of his proper 
 sphere. He is a good little fellow, and you 
 owe him much ; but one should always take 
 care to pay even debts of gratitude in suitable 
 coin. I must read you a lecture upon this 
 subject, just as I used to do at school. You '11 
 not be vexed, Cola ?" And the frank pleasant 
 smile of old lit up Archibald's face, driving 
 thence all the care wrinkles and the dust of 
 Bread-Street, and showing him, as he was, a 
 fine stalwart young Scotsman, clear-eyed, 
 clear-headed, and clear-hearted. 
 
 Cola acquiesced cheerfully, for the sterling 
 good sense and gentle manners of his friend 
 had still the same unfailing influence over 
 him. When tea was over, McKay e took him 
 up to his own bed-chamber, where they could 
 converse unreservedly and in quiet. There, 
 by the light of a beautiful full moon, for 
 candles were never plentiful at Mrs. Jones's, 
 the two youths talked together over all their 
 plans, hopes, and fears. 
 
 11
 
 122 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Archibald listened to the relation of the 
 day's adventure, and his cautious disposition 
 tempered Cola's rather too sanguine anticipa- 
 tions. 
 
 " Mr. Crome seems good and kind, and you 
 ought to be very much obliged to him. I dare 
 say he will help you a great deal : still, Cola, 
 you must trust chiefly to yourself. I don't 
 know much about Art, but it strikes me that 
 you will have years of hard work and close 
 study before attaining eminence." 
 
 " I know I shall," answered Cola ; " neverthe- 
 less! am not afraid. I '11 begin courageously." 
 
 Here Archy put in the all-important ques- 
 tion, " How ?" 
 
 " I do n't exactly see, but Mr. Crome will 
 show me the way ; perhaps find me a sitter 
 for a portrait — anything to make a beginning. 
 He told me to go to him a^ain next week." 
 
 " My dear Cola, suppose you begin your 
 plans a little sooner than next week. Where 
 are you going to-night ?" persisted his matter- 
 of-fact adviser. 
 
 Cola did not know. He had never thought 
 about that. Poor boy ! He had been all day 
 in a bright happy dream ; it seemed almost 
 cruel of Archy to wake him.
 
 LAYING THE FIRST STICK IN THE NEST. 123 
 
 " You must live somewhere," said McKaye ; 
 *' suppose you were to come and live here. 
 Dame Jones is not so bad as she looks ; she 
 does not cheat, though she is rather stingy. 
 And it would be pleasant for us to be together, 
 wouldn't it, old friend?" 
 
 But there were two great impediments to 
 this — the weekly sum that Archibald paid, 
 looked serious to one whose whole stock in life 
 consisted of twenty pounds. And then, what 
 was to be done with Seppi ? 
 
 " It wont do, Archy ; they would not take 
 the poor lad in here, and I cannot part with 
 him. Nothing shall make me do it," cried 
 Cola, resolutely, as if expecting some opposi- 
 tion. ^ 
 
 But McKaye was too right-minded to at- 
 tempt anything of the kind. He saw clearly 
 that Cola's reason was a just and true one. 
 "No, no; you must not give up that noble- 
 hearted faithful little fellow, and so you and 
 Seppi must set up together on your own ac- 
 count. Let me think how to manage it." 
 
 Archy did think ; and his thoughts were as 
 sensible as ever, and as regularly resolved 
 themselves into deeds. The consequence was, 
 that before ten o'clock that night, the two
 
 124 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 young adventurers were installed in a com- 
 fortable room over the way — half parlor, half 
 bed-chamber. 
 
 " It is best to begin with little," observed 
 the prudent Archy, as he looked round. " You 
 have all here you want, including a window 
 to the north, which you always told me was 
 indispensable for an artist : I though of that, 
 you see." 
 
 " You think of evei'ything, good, kind 
 Archy ! What a comfort you are to me !" 
 was the affectionate answer. 
 
 " Am I ? Well, I can return the compli- 
 ment. Cola. The sight of that little brown 
 face of yours has really done me good. One 
 gets so weary, and dull, and cross, in this 
 hard-working London life, far away from 
 home ! I 'm glad you are come, little King 
 Cole, as that queer fellow Forster used to call 
 you. Do you remember the day you took his 
 likeness and mine ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," and Cola laughed merrily. 
 
 " They 've got that sketch of me at Aber- 
 deen now, and think so much of it ! Wont it 
 be a valuable production some of these days, 
 when people talk of the celebrated artist, 
 Niccolo Monti ?"
 
 LAYING THE FIRST STICK IN THE NEST. 125 
 
 " And of Sir Archibald McKaye, the great- 
 est merchant in England." 
 
 " In Scotland, you mean : I 'm not going to 
 stay here longer than I can help. Well, good 
 night, Cola." 
 
 "And good night, Archy." The two 
 friends shook hands laughingly ; but the eyes 
 of both were moist, and there was a trembling 
 seriousness in both hearts. They felt that 
 they were no longer boys, but had entered to- 
 gether the responsible duties of manhood. 
 
 11*
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SIX months' history, 
 
 —Which, my dear friend-reader, seems a little 
 time to look back upon, especially counting it, 
 as you probably do, from holidays to holidays, — 
 from Midsummer to Christmas. But it seemed 
 very different to the solitary youth, struggling 
 for daily bread amidst the whirl of London ; 
 always finding that same daily bread very hard 
 to get, and sometimes not getting it at all. If 
 you could have seen Cola three months after 
 the evening described in our last chapter, you 
 whould hardly have recognized the boy. He 
 seemed to have grown ten years older. Poor 
 ' fellow ! if any one now speaks to him of that 
 sad time, he shakes his head with a serious 
 look and ejaculates, 
 
 " Thank God, it is all over !" 
 
 But we must not pass by this period quite so 
 quickly, though we shall not dilate upon it — it 
 is too full of pain. Still, one may draw from
 
 SIX months' history. 127 
 
 Cola's experience, the moral which he himself 
 also drew ; viz., that there is no fortune so hard 
 but that it can be overcome in time, and with 
 patience and perseverance. 
 
 Let it not be thought that Mr. Crome failed 
 in his kindliness. He did all he promised ; 
 gave Cola introductions, — now and then a little 
 employment, and advice continually. But he 
 was a man of the world ; a court-painter. 
 His time and thoughts were too fully occupied 
 to allow of more than those passing kindnesses, 
 which great people can so easily show to little 
 ones. Perhaps, too, he had known no struggles 
 in his own youth, or if he had, they were for- 
 gotten. Whenever Cola came to Berners 
 Street, Mr. Crome was always glad to see him : 
 many times he even thought of him sponta- 
 neously, and invited him to his house, to meet 
 other guests likely to be of use to a struggling 
 artist. And when he saw the graceful, gentle- 
 manlike youth moving in his well-thronged 
 drawing-room, making acquaintances among 
 the rich and celebrated — that is, evening party 
 acquaintances — Mr. Crome never thought of 
 the poor, one-roomed lodging at Islington, the 
 long dinnerless days, occupied in study which 
 brought little pleasure, because no money, or
 
 128 STOBY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 spent in vain search after work that would 
 procure the bare necessaries of life. 
 
 Cola Monti thus learned the indispensable 
 lesson — that every young man who wishes to 
 make his way in the world must trust to him- 
 self alone. Friends he may have ; the more 
 the better, and they may help him a great 
 deal, provided he will help himself at the 
 same time. Cola depended too much on the 
 influence and aid of Mr. Crome, and other 
 celebrated artists, to whom the former had in- 
 troduced him. These gentlemen praised his 
 numerous designs, which were indeed re- 
 markable for fertility and poetic fancy. They 
 spoke well also of his sketches for oil-paintings. 
 One or two of the most candid, gently hinted 
 that he wanted freedom of hand, and correct- 
 ness in drawing, and advised long study from 
 the antique before he attempted to paint pic- 
 tures. But still these were all " words, words, 
 words;" the young artist found no work, and 
 consequently earned no money. And every 
 day the twenty pounds was dwindling into 
 shillings, and still there were two growing 
 youths to be clothed, lodged, and fed ; himself 
 and his faithful Seppi. 
 
 What Cola would have done without the
 
 SIX MONTHS HISTORY. 129 
 
 latter during this period, it is impossible to say. 
 The little Italian was as good a housekeeper 
 as a girl ; it was he who looked after all the 
 minor details which his master would have en- 
 tirely disregarded. Many a time, in his de- 
 jection, Cola never noticed the empty cupboard, 
 and regarded as little the sudden manner in 
 which it was filled. Perhaps the mystery 
 would have been explained, if in his evening 
 strolls by lamplight, the usual resource of all 
 poor weary-hearted London dwellers, he had 
 chanced to meet a little Italian boy, who went 
 singing from street to street, through frost, and 
 fog, and rain, gaining many stray pence, and 
 even silver through his sweet voice and simple 
 manners. 
 
 But Seppi never told his young master of 
 these night adventures, for he knew it would 
 have wounded deeply Cola's proud and gen- 
 erous spirit, to think that even yet he was 
 under obligation to the little organ-boy whom 
 he had rescued from misery. How much fruit 
 had that one kind deed brought forth ! What 
 a mere trifle seemed to have influenced the 
 young artist's destiny ! But so it often is, when 
 we look back upon the mysteries of life. Only 
 one thing we know, that " as we sow so shall
 
 130 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 we reap" in the end, whether the seed be good 
 or evil. 
 
 And what had become of Archy McKaye 
 all this while ? He knew not the extent of 
 Cola's troubles, for the Italian was too proud to 
 unfold them to a friend, who was himself strug- 
 gling so hard. Perhaps he thought, likewise, 
 that Archibald's character was too different 
 from his own, to enable him fully to sympa- 
 thize with the keen sufferings of a sensitive 
 and disappointed heart. But in this he some- 
 what misjudged the young Scotsman, who had, 
 in his reserved and quiet nature, many a deep 
 fount of feeling, not easily revealed. There 
 never lived a more true-hearted fellow than 
 Archibald McKaye. 
 
 The friends did not see much of each other, 
 for Archy was at business all day, and every 
 day too ; there being no holidays known at 
 Bread-Street, except Christmas-day and Good- 
 Friday. And week after week found Cola 
 plying his crayons at the British Museum ; 
 drawing every day from an early hour until 
 the liiiht faded. In the evenings he tried to 
 make little sketches to sell at small print-shops ; 
 but they were rarely taken ; and when he had 
 a whole heap of them on his hands, undisposed
 
 SIX months' history. 131 
 
 of, it made him too dispirited to go on working. 
 Still he mechanically continued drawing at the 
 Museum ; now and then painting some small 
 portrait ; but he began to smile bitterly at all 
 his day-dreams of being a great artist. He 
 found it much easier to starve. And this was 
 the history of Cola's first six months in London.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HOW A BRIGHT MORNING WALK PRODUCED A. 
 BRIGHT THOUGHT. 
 
 What, Cola, in bed still, this sunny Christ- 
 mas morning !" said Archibald, as he entered 
 his friend's lodging. 
 
 " I don't see why I should get up," was the 
 answer. " The Museum is shut, so I can't go 
 there as usual. I like staying in bed, if is so 
 still and quiet, one can doze and forget the 
 world and its cares." 
 
 The disconsolate, weary tone revealed to 
 Archy much that he had before only suspected. 
 Besides, the dreary aspect of the tireless room, 
 and the melancholy look of the pale sallow 
 face that lay on the pillow, confirmed the 
 tale. 
 
 " Seppi, why don't you make haste and 
 light the fire ?" said Cola, rather sharply. 
 Then, recollecting himself: "Oh, I forgot; 
 the lad is gone out for breakfast, if he can get
 
 A BRIGHT MORNING WALK, 133 
 
 it. You '11 excuse this, McKaye ; all the 
 world knows a poor artist is no Croesus," he 
 added with a bitter laugh. 
 
 Archy would not notice it. " Come, Cola," 
 he said cheerfully, " try and get up without a 
 fire ; you know the old rhyme — 
 
 " Early to bed and early to rise, 
 Is the way to grow healthy, wealthy, and wise." 
 
 " I shall never attain to the two latter ; so I 
 care little about the first. The longer one 
 lives, the more ti'ouble one has ; and perhaps 
 it is best to cut the matter short at once," re- 
 plied the poor youth, whose state of mind was 
 really pitiable. McKaye penetrated it at once, 
 and like a true friend went silently to work, 
 in order to remedy it. This time he abstained 
 from reading Cola a lecture ; he knew it would 
 not do. The boy needed to be roused and 
 cheered, not argued with ; and the only way 
 was to draw him out of himself and his mis- 
 eries. 
 
 " Cola, my dear fellow, this will never do ; 
 I can 't be left to spend a dull Christmas-day 
 all by myself, at Mother Jones's. Here is as 
 bright a winter-day as ever shone out of the 
 sky, and I want to enjoy it with you. Let U3 
 
 12
 
 134 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 both take a run out into the country, up to 
 Highgate or Hampstead. I '11 give you a 
 Christmas dinner, in some nice quiet roadside 
 inn, and we '11 walk home by star-light. 
 There 's a first-rate plan, eh ! my boy ?" 
 
 " You are very good, but I should only bore 
 you. Let me stay here, Archy, and rest." 
 
 " Well, I call that rather too bad, after I 
 have planned the excursion all this week ' 
 Why, it would have been delicious, just like 
 our holidays together at the old doctor's ! 
 However, if you will spoil my pleasure, you 
 must. Only, I '11 not be driven out alone. 
 I '11 not stir an inch all day," said Archy, set- 
 tling himself very composedly on one chair, 
 with his feet on the other. " Now, you ill- 
 natured fellow, go to sleep again, if you like ; 
 I'll call you at dinner-time." 
 
 Cola, miserable as he was, could not help 
 laughing. " Don't abuse me so, Archy ; but 
 indeed I am very dull and unhappy." The 
 laugh ended in a heavy sigh, and he put both 
 his hands over his face. 
 
 McKaye rose up and took them away gently. 
 " Why did you not tell youf friend Archy this, 
 loniT before now ? Is n't he as sood as an elder 
 brother to you, scoldings included ? Come,
 
 A BRIGHT MORNING WALK. 135 
 
 now, be a good fellow and get up ; and we '11 
 talk over the miseiy ; it will not look so black 
 out in the open country as here. And we '11 
 find some way to get out of it, may be," said 
 Archibald affectionately. 
 
 Cola obeyed him like a child. They stayed 
 until Seppi came in and prepared breakfast, ol 
 which McKaye — all praise be to his kindly 
 Jt^ct !■ — pretended to partake heartily, though 
 he was not in the least hungry. And indeed 
 the frugal, almost nauseous meal, was enough 
 to drive hunger away. In another hour he 
 and Cola were strolling arm-in-arm up the 
 Highgate-road. 
 
 There is hardly a more beautiful walk any- 
 where near London than this same road. It 
 looked so cheerful in the clear frosty morning, 
 with its hawthorn and rose-hedges all besprin- 
 kled with crimson-berries, the ground crisp 
 and pleasant underfoot, and overhead the bluest 
 of winter skies. And then, at every turn of 
 the winding and hilly road, came small beau- 
 tiful " bits," as Cola, in artist phrase enti- 
 tled them ; — tiny fragments, of landscape, not 
 grand indeed, but very charming and refresh- 
 ing, especially to one who for months had 
 looked on nothing but bricks and mortar.
 
 136 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Cola's spirit rose. He leaned against the 
 stile that leads from the hill nearest to High- 
 gate, down a green meadow slope, to the Cem- 
 etery. He breathed the fresh morning air, 
 and drank in with a painter's eye and soul the 
 view before him. The full, bounding heart 
 of youth beat once more in his bosom, and his 
 eyes almost overflowed. Archy stood still be- 
 side him, watching in glad silence the change 
 that had come over the careworn face. 
 
 " How pleasant this is !" cried Monti at last. 
 I begin to think the world is not so wretched 
 after all ; I have a great mind to give it an- 
 other trial. Don't smile, Archy," continued 
 he ; " but if you knew what miserable wicked 
 thoughts I have had of late" — 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because I am disappointed in all I attempt. 
 It is very hard to wait day after day, and have 
 no chance of anything but starvation ; and 
 sometimes Seppi and I have not been so far off 
 that already," said the youth, his heart opened 
 by Archy's evident sympathy. 
 
 " My poor Cola, and I never knew it !" 
 
 " Of course not, and you would not have 
 known it now, only I am so down-hearted and 
 foolish, and you are so kind !" cried Cola,
 
 A BRIGHT MORNING WALK. 137 
 
 clasping the hand which had folded ilself over 
 his in a friendly pressure. 
 
 " This will never do, my dear lad ; I can't 
 stand by and see you breaking your heart and 
 pining away in this quiet, composed fashion, 
 until you give me the satisfaction of finding 
 you a comfortable home out there," answered 
 McKaye, pointing to the Highgate cemetery 
 before them, and making a desperate attempt 
 at comicality, which he generally did when 
 much affected. " Just throw some light on 
 the subject, will you ? let me into your mat- 
 ters a little. We can hold a cabinet-council 
 very conveniently on this stile. Begin, my 
 boy !" 
 
 And partly with seriousness, partly by a 
 little harmless jesting, Archibald succeeded in 
 arriving at the true state of affairs. He walked 
 on in grave thoughtfulness for a little and then 
 said, — 
 
 " Cola, it strikes me you are on the wrong 
 tack. Instead of waiting until people find you 
 emplo3mient, (I beg your pardon for applying 
 the term to Art,) you ought to look for it your- 
 self Do n't trust any longer to these great 
 folk ; stand up boldly on your own account. 
 You are a very clever fellow, and I '11 never 
 12*
 
 138 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 believe but that such talent as yours will make 
 its way." 
 
 " Much obliged to you, Archy, for your good 
 opinion ; but bow am I to convert talent into 
 money ? I am not yet skilful in painting ; 
 nobody would buy my daubs, and it torments me 
 even to have to disgrace myself by selling such 
 rubbish, when, with a little experience, I might 
 do something creditable. What am I to turn to, 
 in order to find bread, while I work out the 
 powers which I feci I have within me ?" 
 
 " That is just what I have been considering, 
 and this is my plan. You know all the world is 
 mad for illustrated books, and I am sure I have 
 seen designs of yours enough to paper a 
 room. Don't look so vexed dear Cola, you 
 know my ways. With such a fertile imagi- 
 nation and ready hand, why not turn wood- 
 draughtsman ?" 
 
 " Wood-draughtsman !" echoed the young 
 artist, rather surprised, and perhaps a little hu- 
 miliated. 
 
 " Yes ; it is an excellent profession, and 
 will serve until better times come. Besides, 
 you might keep on with the painting still !" 
 
 " But I know no Art-publishers ; and have 
 no introductions."
 
 A BRIGHT MORNING WALK. 139 
 
 " Who cares for introductions ? My dear 
 fellow, stand on your own feet ; trust to your 
 own talents. Never fear but they will find 
 their proper level. Go from one publisher to 
 another, as a youth like you may do with- 
 out lowering the dignity of Art. Take your 
 portfolio under your arm, and your own genius 
 will be your best introduction. For you have 
 ..genius, Cola, and I know and feel it, though I 
 do laugh at you sometimes. You '11 get work, 
 never fear. Take my word for it, that a clever 
 fellow like you need never starve, if with his 
 talent he only adds a little common sense, so 
 as to show him how to use it. People will find 
 out his value, and treat him kindly too ; for 
 the world, like a certain other individual of 
 whom I do n't think proper to speak, is by no 
 means as black as it 's paintpd." 
 
 Cola laughed merrily. " You are a wise 
 fellow, Archy, though your wisdom comes out 
 comically enough. I '11 think over what you 
 say." 
 
 " And act upon it. Cola ?" 
 
 " I will ; there 's my hand as a pledge. I 
 feel brave already : — could face all the Art- 
 publishers in London. Let me see ; to-morrow 
 is Saturday ; and these English people eat and
 
 140 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 drink so much on Christmas-day, that they are 
 never thoroughly awake the day after. But on 
 Monday I will set about the plan. Dear Archy, 
 how much lighter you have made my heart !" 
 
 They took the homeward walk by starlight, 
 as McKaye had plann'd, and the quiet beau- 
 tiful night drew their hearts nearer together. 
 Their talk comprised the deepest feelings of 
 both ; Cola's hopes of the future, with all his 
 artist-dreams; — the far-off cottage near Aber- 
 deen, whither all the strong home- affections of 
 the young Scotsman ever turned. 
 
 " You shall go there some time. Cola," said 
 Archy. " I long to show you my father and 
 mother, and my little sister Jessie. She 's 
 growing a woman now, though. You shal. 
 take all their likenesses in a family group. 
 But by then you will have got far above por- 
 trait-painting, and be working at grand histor- 
 ical pictures, with figures ten feet high — a la 
 Michel Angelo." 
 
 Cola's cheerful laugh again rang through 
 the clear frosty air. He had recovered that 
 lost talisman without which youth — especially 
 youth allied with genius — cannot long exist. 
 He could once more walk through the world 
 erect, for he had hope in his bosom.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HOW COLA, TRYING HIS FEET, FOUND HE COULD 
 
 WALK ALONE. 
 
 -^In spite of all his brave resolutions, Cola 
 felt somewhat out of his element, and decidedly- 
 uncomfortable, when he found himself trudging 
 along on the wettest of wet December morn- 
 ings, prepared for the first time to make of his 
 beloved and revered Art a marketable com- 
 modity. This circumstance was not quite 
 pleasant to him ; it seemed to the enthusiastic 
 young artist rather degrading to have to go 
 and ask for work, like a bricklayer's laborer. 
 For though conscious of his own personal hu- 
 mility, Cola had a strong sense of the dignity 
 of Art ; and in those days our great painters 
 had not yet lent their hands — and worthily, too 
 — to elevate public taste, proving by their own 
 example that real genius ennobles whatever it 
 touches. 
 
 "1 wonder what Mr. Crome, Mr. , 
 
 or Mr. would say, if they saw me now
 
 142 STOKY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 and knew the business I was about V thought 
 Cola, feeling half ashamed. " And yet one 
 must have bread, and it is really no disgrace 
 for an artist to be a wood-draughtsman." 
 
 Nevertheless, when the youtli found himself 
 within the precincts of one of those great pub- 
 lishing house which were then beginning to 
 set the fashion of illustrated works, he was 
 oppressed by that curious mixture of pride and 
 timidity which marked his character. During 
 the half-hour that he had to await the im- 
 portant interview, his courage was gradually 
 oozing out at his finger-ends. He clutched 
 his portfolio with a nervous grasp ; and his 
 shyness, as is not unfrequently the case with 
 persons of similar temperament, taking the 
 form and outward manifestations of extreme 
 vanity, he fancied that all the eyes of all the 
 publislier's clerks were directed upon him, in 
 curious and contemptuous inquiry. And then 
 his pride sinking through various gradations 
 to the most perfect self-distrust, he began to 
 think himself quite incompetent for even the 
 branch of Art he had a few hours before felt 
 disposed to contemn ; and but for the shame of 
 flying from those six pair of optics, he M'ould 
 certainly have made a precipitate retreat.
 
 COLA WALKS ALONE. 143 
 
 " Mr. will see you now," was the 
 
 dread summons, and Cola stood in the pres- 
 ence-chamber, his portfolio under his arm. 
 The youth of genius was now brought for the 
 first time in an atmosphere of business. It 
 positively froze him ; he quailed beneath the 
 questionings of the piercing little eyes, which 
 silently awaited his explanation of the matter 
 'that brought him. It came with a trembling 
 hesitation and want of self-confidence, that 
 apparently did not argue much in the young 
 artist's favor, with the lofty personage he ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 " Have you drawn much on wood ? and 
 what houses have employed you ?" were ques- 
 tions most natural and most courteously given, 
 but which struck poor Cola with dismay. His 
 negative replies brought back merely an im- 
 pressive " hem !" but no other observation of 
 any kind. 
 
 Monti opened his portfolio; and the pub- 
 lisher turned over, with a hand of most busi- 
 ness-like carlessness, the fruits of many a long 
 evening of artist dreaming. " Patient Grisel- 
 dis," " Undine," " Hyperion," were scanned 
 with clances whose indifference was almost 
 more disagreeable than the critical eye of a
 
 144 STOKY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 connoisseur. Not a word either of praise OT 
 blame escaped this polile individual ; he shut 
 the book and returned it. 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, but our arrangements for 
 the season, with regard to illustration, are al- 
 ready completed ; good morning !" 
 
 It was well for Cola that his energy and de- 
 termination, though not easily roused, when 
 once fairly wound up, sustained him for a long 
 time. Still, he was in a frame of mind very 
 much akin to desperation, when, after two or 
 three disappointments, he entered the door of 
 the last Art-publisher on the list which the. 
 far-seeing Archibald had enumerated. 
 
 " Well, young man, what do you want ?" 
 was the straightforward question of this per- 
 sonage, an ugly, blunt-spoken man. But there 
 was a touch of good-nature in his roughness 
 that made it infinitely more promising than the 
 terrible politeness of the first one. 
 
 Cola went through the form of explanation, 
 now become stereotyped in his memory with 
 painful vividness. 
 
 " Humph ! a young artist ; can't follow oil- 
 painting, so condescends to wood — isn't that it ?" 
 
 Cola did not quite like this form of phrase, 
 and coloring deeply, said so.
 
 COLA WALKS ALONE. 
 
 145 
 
 " Well, never mind mere words. Show me 
 your drawings." 
 
 He examined the treasure-laden portfolio for 
 a long time, and, as Cola fancied, with the air 
 of a man who knew something about it. The 
 youth felt his heart warm to the ugly face — 
 over which an unmistakeable expression of in- 
 terest, if not satisfaction — seemed gradually to 
 creep. But the charm was well-nigh dispelled, 
 when the publisher turned suddenly round, 
 saying,— 
 
 " Young man, I dare say you think you are 
 a genius !" 
 
 Cola, much confused, drew back. 
 
 " Well, well, never mind, I happen to think 
 so too. Give me your hand." 
 
 The young artist responded to the grasp, his 
 cheek varying from red to pale and his lip al- 
 most quivering at this unexpected kindness. 
 
 '• I like this, and this ; only there 's a leg out 
 of drawing, and here 's a rather awkward pose. 
 You see I know something about the matter, 
 though I am no painter myself," said this wor- 
 thy individual, who came to prove to the al- 
 most despairing Cola, that even the world of pub- 
 lishers was a tolerably good world in its way. 
 How long have you practised wood-drawing ?" 
 13
 
 146 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " I have never yet tried it, sir." 
 
 A grimace passed over the ugly face, not im- 
 proving its beauty. "I see you do n't know much 
 of the world, young man. In our business, 
 and I suppose in nearly every other, the usual 
 way of trying to get on, is by never acknowl- 
 edging one's unacquaintance with anything. 
 Excuse me, but, though I like you all the 
 better for your candor, it is rather comical that 
 you should come and ask for employment here, 
 when you have never touched a block in your 
 life. Do you know what wood-drawing is ?" 
 
 " I suppose, like any other kind of sketch- 
 ing." 
 
 " Not at all ; it is a craft of itself, requir- 
 ing regular learning and plenty of practice, 
 before you can get the knack of it. Look 
 here," — and ^e touched one of Cola's designs, 
 — "you have a free hand ; you sketch boldly; 
 but such a bit as this hatching here would 
 drive an engraver crazy." 
 
 And then, with a patience and clearness that 
 did equal credit to his good nature and his ac- 
 qauintance with the subject, he explained to 
 Monti the peculiarities of wood-drawing ; the 
 necessity for firm, sharp outline, and well- 
 defined shadows, with other technicalities
 
 COLA WALKS ALONE. 
 
 147 
 
 which are indispensible in making pencil and 
 graver unite together to produce a perfect 
 whole. 
 
 " That's the reason the drawings of some of 
 our cleverest artists look atrocious when en- 
 graved," said he, " because these grand fel- 
 lows will not take patience to acquire what 
 they consider a lower style. I wonder how the 
 wbi'ld would get on, if people did not try to 
 accommodate one another now and then ! 
 There 's a maxim for you, young gentleman, 
 if you are not above following it ! and so you 
 have a lesson on wood-drawing and moral phi- 
 losophy at once." 
 
 " Thank you very much for both, sir," an- 
 swered Cola ; but his tone, though grateful, 
 was desponding ; and he began to re-fasten his 
 eternal portfolio with a heavy sigh. 
 
 The good-natured publisher noticed it. 
 " What ! faint hearted at your age ? really, 
 fmy young friend, why do you pull such a long 
 face on the matter ? I hope I have said noth- 
 ing to discourage you." 
 
 " You have said everything kind, I am sure ; 
 but there seems little chance for me, as of 
 course I cannot a^k you to employ me, whtL 
 I am quite incompetent to the work."
 
 148 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 " But that is no reason why you should re- 
 main so. I am not aware that I have sent 
 you away yet ; so put down your hat, and seat 
 yourself again." Cola obeyed. 
 
 " In plain English," pursued he of the nice 
 good, ugly face, leaning the same ill-favorea 
 visage on his hands, and bringing it to a level 
 with Cola's beautiful and now pale counte- 
 nance. " In plain English, I have such droves 
 of small artists tormenting me — young, self- 
 conceited cubs, would-be geniuses — that a 
 quiet simple-mannered youth, who seems to 
 have the real thing in him, and no sham, is 
 quite a relief. I like you. I would help you 
 if I could ; only you must learn how to help 
 yourself first. Will you take some blocks, 
 and practice until you can draw on wood well 
 enough to suit me ? You would soon get over 
 the difficulties, with a little patience ; and the 
 profession is profitable, growing better and 
 better every day." 
 
 Cola joyfully assented, his grateful heart 
 beaming in his eyes. 
 
 " And now, just as a matter of form, or 
 rather because I should like to know a little 
 more about you, tell me your name, and 
 whether you are a stranger here or have ac-
 
 COLA WALKS ALONE. 149 
 
 quaintance among London artists," questioned 
 Cola's new friend. 
 
 The youth mentioned Mr. Crome, and one 
 or two others of his friends — men of sufficient 
 celebrity to astonish the publisher. 
 
 " Why did you not speak of this before ? it 
 might have been of use to you," cried the lat- 
 ter, his worldly wisdom creeping out in despite 
 of his kindliness of disposition. " Any other 
 young man would have had these great names 
 perpetually on his tongue, and have introduced 
 himself every where by means of them." 
 
 The young Italian drew up his slight figure 
 with a just pride in himself and in his Art. 
 " If I am not considered worth notice on my 
 own account, it shall certainly not be by hang- 
 ing on the skirts of other people. As I de- 
 serve will I stand or fall." 
 
 " Bravo, Mr. Monti ! You are quite right 
 in the main," was the involuntary exclamation 
 of the worthy publisher, as ho rose to end the 
 interview, " Only you must not get too high 
 and haught)^ until you are strong enough lo 
 stand alone. And now, take your blocks, go 
 and try your best, and success to you ! Good 
 morning." 
 
 " Well," thought Cola, as with a lightened
 
 150 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 heart he turned homeward, " if this is what 
 Archy calls ' working one's way,' and ' stand- 
 ins on one's own feet,' I think I have made a 
 good beginning. It seems to me that getting 
 on in the world is like walking through a bed 
 of nettles ; put your feet out boldly and you '11 
 not get stung." 
 
 This fine poetical and moral sentiment 
 brought Cola's walk, — as it does our chapter, 
 — to a very appropriate termination.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A LECTURE ON HIGH ART. 
 
 It required every grain of patience Cola 
 could muster — and unfortunately, like many 
 another genius, he possessed this necessary 
 ;- commodity in homoeopathic quantities — before 
 he could succeed in becoming a tolerable good 
 wood-draughtsman. He had wonderful fertil- 
 ity in design, and an imagination that almost 
 carried him away ; but all these required to 
 be tamed down before they could be of much 
 use to him in the new handicraft to which he 
 had devoted his pencil for a season. 
 
 Besides, the whole tendency of his mind 
 was for what Archibald gayly entitled, " the 
 grand style and Michel Angelo." He could 
 not bear to descend from the sublime of a gi- 
 gantic drawing — the Tlieseus or the Gladiator, 
 for instance, — to the ridiculous of some small 
 tail-piece in a child's book. He liked to dash 
 away with charcoal or crayon, not sketching, 
 but building a man," as the Academy pupils
 
 152 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 said of Fuseli ; and the pencil refinements of 
 wood-drawing were to Cola at first not only 
 disagreeable but almost impracticable. It 
 would perhaps reflect but little credit on the 
 young artist's evenness of temper, were I to 
 relate how many spoiled blocks he sometimes 
 sent whirling across the room, vowing that he 
 would starve sooner than torment himself with 
 such contemptible work. 
 
 But if he caught sight of Seppi's thin face, 
 as the lad quietly picked up these missiles, 
 Cola was always mollified and calmed at once. 
 Sometimes in his fits of anger or despondency, 
 he began to talk and think, as most other 
 young and sensitive minds do, that life is a 
 weary burden, and he did not care how soon 
 he died. But then the gentle loving face of 
 his little countryman was a silent monitor, pro- 
 claiming the truth, — which these despairing 
 misery-mongers sometimes forget, — that no 
 one can go out of the world without leaving 
 some one to mourn ; and if we would fain die 
 to please ourselves, we have no right, by such 
 a summary exit, to inflict pain on other people. 
 
 This doctrine was preached over and over 
 again by Archy McKaye, in his own dry, 
 half-serious, half-comical manner, which often
 
 A LECTURE ON HIGH ART. 153 
 
 touched Cola sensibly, when a grave discourse 
 would have been utterly thrown away. And 
 since that Christmas-day ramble the sympathy 
 between the two friends seemed to have in- 
 creased more and more, not only in kind feel- 
 ing, — for there it never failed, — but even in 
 taste. Cola's little room, which now began to 
 look a great deal more cheerful under the in- 
 fluence of his improved fortunes, was per- 
 petually visited by Archibald ; and the young 
 artist had no longer any reluctance in show- 
 ing all he did, and in talking over all he 
 thought. Indeed, as he often said jestingly, 
 there would perhaps be a rival for himself 
 some day, for Archibald was growing quite 
 learned in the secrets of the brethren of the 
 brush. 
 
 As for the young painter himself, he pur- 
 sued his noble and beautiful Art with an en- 
 ergy and enthusiasm worthy of it, and of him- 
 self. He suffered nothing to allure him from 
 it — no idleness, no youthful pleasures ; and in 
 his Art-studies he was daunted by no difficul- 
 ties. Archibald often laughed when he found 
 he poetical and imaginative Cola plunged in 
 the mysteries of some dry work on painting, 
 or making careful anatomical drawings, as if
 
 154 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 the human skeleton were as interesting a sub 
 ject for the pencil as the Apollo Belvidere. 
 It was indeed a beautiful and touching thing 
 to see how every energy of this young and 
 ardent mind was directed to the one pursuit, 
 which engrossed all its powers. But such is 
 always the case with true genius. 
 
 It was curious sometimes to notice the 
 amusing expedients to which Monti was obliged 
 to resort, in the furtherance of his artistic 
 studies, McKaye walked in one evening, and 
 found him working away at the home-manu- 
 factured easel ; the workmanship of the same 
 friendly hand whose mechanical ingenuity had 
 fabricated many a picture-frame in the old 
 school-days. Seppi, wrapped in a comical 
 sort of blanket-drapery, reclined in a grand 
 attitude on the table, holding the candle above 
 his head, and thus sex'ving at once as a model 
 and chandelier, Archibald could not help 
 smiling at the artist and his sitter ; but the 
 former was so absorbed that he merely nodded 
 his head, with a " Well, Archy !" Seppi 
 looked as solemn as a judge, lest he should, 
 by any change of limb or feature, annoy his 
 dear Signor, whom he verily believed to be 
 the greatest painter that ever lived.
 
 A LECTURE ON HIGH ART. 
 
 155 
 
 Archibald looked over his friend's shoulder, 
 at the studies which Cola was making for a 
 picture which he had continually in his mind. 
 Seppi figured there under all characters, and 
 in every variety of drapery. He was a useful 
 mdividual, and truly his place was no sine- 
 cure. 
 
 " I 'm getting on, you see," said Monti. " I 
 shall begin the picture soon. When the days 
 are longer, and the Academy is closed. It 
 -would not do to give up studying there, you 
 
 know. That good old soul, E , was quite 
 
 right when he advised me to draw well before 
 I tried to paint. Stand out of the light, please, 
 Archy ! for I must finish this. I might never 
 get such a grand bit of drapery again. Keep 
 still, Seppi !" 
 
 And on dashed the charcoal, while McKaye 
 sat watching the wonderfully free hand of the 
 young artist. 
 
 " How goes on the wood-drawing, Cola ?" 
 inquired he, after a little. 
 
 "Oh, don't talk about it, there's a good 
 fellow !" answered the other with an uneasy 
 shrug. I 've been working away every night 
 this week : I will have a little rest, now, I 
 hope."
 
 156 STORY OF A GEmVS. 
 
 But that very minute came a knock at the 
 
 door, and a parcel from Mr. , the same 
 
 good, ugly-looking publisher, who now gave 
 Cola regular employment. It contained half- 
 a-dozen small blocks, which were immediately 
 wanted for an illustrated edition of Goody Two- 
 Shoes. 
 
 Michel Anorelo himself could not have cast 
 them down with an air of more sublime indig- 
 nation than Cola Monti. 
 
 '' Now that is too bad ! is it not, Archy ? 
 When my mind is full of the picture, and I 
 want a little leisure to work it out, to have to 
 do these contemptible things ! I '11 write to 
 
 Mr. , and give them up altogether. I 
 
 wonder what he means by sending me such 
 nonsense to illustrate ! This is the third baby- 
 book I have had : it 's a disgrace to an artist !" 
 
 Archibald had at first felt strongly inclined to 
 laugh ; but when he saw how seriously annoyed 
 his friend appeared, he changed his mind. 
 
 " My dear fellow," said the grave young 
 Scotsman, " I don't consider it any disgrace at 
 all. The grand thing is not what a man does, 
 but how he does it. I would advise you to 
 take this commission, and execute it to the best 
 of your power.
 
 A LECTURE ON HIGH ART. 157 
 
 *' Nonsense ! anything is good enough for 
 such a mean task." 
 
 *' I do n't agree with you there. Never sink 
 your genius down to the level of your work, 
 but elevate the work by your genius. Put as 
 much talent as ever you can into these ugly 
 little wood-blocks. Why, Cola, and Archy's 
 face relaxed into its pleasant irresistible smile, 
 " your very particular friend, Michel Angelo, 
 would have made, with a burnt stick and the 
 •side of a wall, a grander work than some mod- 
 ern artists could accomplish with yards of can- 
 vas, and oceans of paint. See if you cannot 
 do the same in your small way. Try and be 
 the Michel Angelo of wood-designers." 
 
 Cola laughed in spite of himself. " Bravo, 
 Archy ! your Aphorisms on Art would rival 
 Hazlitt's : where did you learn it all — at Bread- 
 Street?" 
 
 McKaye did not look in the least offended, 
 he knew Cola too well. "I was not born at 
 Bread-Street, remember !" said he, quite glad 
 to see that his words had calmed the storm a 
 little. " That is only the work-a-day half of 
 me which is kept among the cotton-bags ; the 
 other half, and the best, belongs to the High- 
 land hills. I gathered up all my wisdom 
 
 14
 
 158 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 there. And besides," added he more seriously 
 *' I think I am all the better, dear Cola, for 
 having you near me, to keep me from sinking 
 into a regular money-getting city-fellow, and 
 to put me in mind of the higher and more 
 beautiful things of life. My dull plodding ex- 
 istence would be duller still, if I had not an 
 artist for my friend, even though he is a wild 
 young genius like Cola Monti. 
 
 " Who storms and rages, and will not listen 
 to reason on any account whatever, for which 
 he is heartily ashamed of himself, Archy," 
 cried the other, with a hearty hand-clasp, that 
 atoned for all. 
 
 "But, who is yet the best fellow in the world, 
 which fact is ready to be maintained in single- 
 combat against any individual who denies the 
 fact, by his old friend, quiet, steady-going Ar- 
 chibald McKaye. But come," added the 
 young Scotsman, " here we are keeping poor 
 Seppi in his grand attitude, and one can't lie 
 long as a wounded warrior without getting the 
 cramp ; besides, a small piece of blanket dra- 
 pery is not quite so warm as coat and trousers. 
 Make haste. Cola ! finish your study, and then 
 see how much of your beloved High-Art you 
 can put into Goody Two-Shoes."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SHOWING THAT PROSPERITY HAS ITS DANGERS. 
 
 Cola's foiiunes improved slowly, but surely. 
 He migrated from the shabby lodging at Isling- 
 ton, two miles further north, where his favorite 
 Hampstead breezes could blow in at the rose- 
 scented window of his little painting-room ; — 
 for he had arrived at the dignity of two rooms, 
 with a closet for Scppi. This same faithful 
 attendant had risen in the world alons; with his 
 master. Seppi's velveteen jacket had given 
 place to good plain attire, and his clear boy's 
 voice was no longer heard singing in the dark 
 wintry streets. He was acquiring an educa- 
 tion too, commenced at the Italian school which 
 that good man, Joseph Mazzini, first established 
 for his poor wandering countrymen ; Cola, in 
 his few leisure hours, completing the work 
 thus began, and making quite a clever, well- 
 informed youth of his little servant. 
 
 During this long, weary probation of deep 
 poverty, the young artist had never known 
 what it was to have a shilling to spend or any 
 intellectual amusement : — books, picture-gal- 
 leries, theatres, all those harmless recreations
 
 160 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 which to a mind of his stamp arc ahnost indis- 
 pensablc, were wholly unattainable. Now he 
 began to enjoy a few of them with that intense 
 appreciation and delight, which, in a nature 
 highly sensitive and finely moulded, is much 
 keener than in ordinary characters. But all 
 his pleasures were taken in moderation, and 
 even sober Archy McKaye, who cared little 
 about such things himself, merely shook his 
 head once or twice at first, and then acknowl- 
 edged there was no harm in a little amuse- 
 ment now and then. 
 
 " Only remember, work before play !" was 
 his gentle admonition, repeated perhaps a de- 
 gree oftener, as the spring of Cola's second 
 year in London advanced, and the young ar- 
 tist was busily engaged in that important work 
 — his first Academy Picture. It was indeed 
 the grand crisis of his life, as he and Archi- 
 bald well knew • and when the painting ad- 
 vanced, its progress formed the chief topic of 
 conversation with them both. Archy was al- 
 most as anxious as his friend, and Cola often 
 laughingly told him he was getting quite a critic 
 and connoisseur in Art. Indeed, the two school 
 mates were assimilating more and more, and as 
 neither made any other warm friendship, theirs 
 grew into an almost brotherly affection.
 
 PROSPERITY HAS ITS DANGERS. 161 
 
 At last, to alter the even current of their 
 lives, came chance, in the shape of a third old 
 school-mate. 
 
 Cola and Archy were riding from the cit^ 
 together, in that very unromantic conveyance 
 an omnibus. It was after the hour when city- 
 people throng in such numbers from their little 
 dens of offices to the welcome air even of Is- 
 lington and Camden Town, consequently our 
 two friends were the only passengers. How 
 6ver, a third soon came in ; — a youth who was 
 evidently trying his utmost to seem a man, by 
 means of the most stylish dress possible ; a 
 small apology for a moustache, apparently 
 zealously cultivated, a cane, and an eye-glass. 
 This latter he used to scan his fellow-passen- 
 gers with an air of careless indifference, which 
 soon changed to undisguised surprise. 
 
 " 'Pon my life, that 's odd ! Shake hands, old 
 fellow ! for I '11 bet anything you are the very 
 identical Archy McKaye." 
 
 " And you 're Morris Woodhouse ! Who 
 would have thought of meeting you here ?" 
 was the cordial answer. "Why here are three 
 of us, old school-fellows : don't you remember 
 Cola Monti ?" 
 
 " What ! is that my old enemy, little King 
 14*
 
 162 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 Cole ? Give us your paw, my boy ! How 
 you are altered !" 
 
 And a hearty greeting passed between the 
 youths ; for at all times one is glad to meet 
 old school-mates, and revive old associations. 
 Then they began to talk ; Morris rattling 
 away, with a curious mixture of his former 
 boyish frankness, and his newly-acquired col- 
 lege affectations. 
 
 " Came up from Cantab to see the old gov- 
 ernor, who took it in his head to be near going 
 off, like this," and Woodhouse snapped his 
 fingers. " But he changed his mind — got 
 better ; so I left him, and ran up here, to see 
 a little of town-life before the vacation 's out. 
 It don't signify much to the governor; he's 
 quite childish now." 
 
 Archy looked surprised, and rather disgusted, 
 but the hopeful " only son and heir" went on 
 describing, with great gusto, the pleasures of a 
 college-life, as it presents itself to young gen- 
 tlemen of large expectations. Still there was 
 a ready wit and talent about Morris Wood- 
 house, that made him a most amusing com- 
 panion : Cola, especially, was attracted by his 
 dashing and clever chat, for it could hardly be 
 called conversation. 
 
 " And now, my lads, how goes the world with
 
 PROSPERITY HAS ITS DANGERS. 163 
 
 you ?" said Morris, pausing for the first time 
 to think about some one beside himself. " You 
 have turned merchant, as I hear, McKaye ; 
 given up Latin and Greek for ledger and count- 
 ing-house. Pleasant, is n't it ?" And the young 
 collegian made a half-contemptuous grimace. 
 
 " 1 don't like it, but it must be done," an- 
 swered Archibald, steadily and unmoved. " I 
 work very hard at Bread-Street, and I 'm not 
 ashamed of it either." 
 
 " Oh, no ! of course not," said Morris, a 
 little confounded. " And King Cole, what 
 have you turned to ? Made any nice little 
 arrangements with the counts, your cousins, 
 and the princes, your ancestors, eh ?" 
 
 " I am an artist," replied Cola, somewhat 
 proudly, and with a heightened color. 
 
 " Well, I never ! So that was the end of 
 your sketching and caricaturing ! Who 'd 
 have thought that Dr. Birch would have 
 turned out a genius from among his lads. 
 And you have really joined the tribe of seedy, 
 looking fellows, with long hair and turned down 
 collars, as I hear all artists described." 
 
 " I trust I do not come under the category,' 
 said Cola ; and though somewhat vexed, could 
 not help smiling. 
 
 " No ; I do n't see that you do, exactly,"
 
 164 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 cried Woodhouse, elevating his eye-glass. 
 " Good-looking young man, dark hair, close 
 and curly, black neckerchief; but what a one 
 it is ! AVhy, Monti, you 'd be hunted out of 
 college for sporting such a rag ! De — cidedly 
 ungentlcmanly !" and the fashionable youth 
 returned to his affected drawl, \vhiclj, to Cola's 
 quick sense of the ludicrous, was really amusing. 
 
 " I hope I shall never make a fool of myself 
 by dressing eitlier like a would-be artist or a 
 dandy, being too poor for the latter, and having 
 a hearty contempt for the former," observed 
 he. " One does not measure a fellow's genius 
 by the length of his hair ; and when a man 
 takes extraordinary care of the outside of his 
 head, it is generally a sign that he has little or 
 nothing in the inside of it. That is not my 
 remark, however ; 't is one of Archy's wise 
 saws," continued Monti, with a glance at his 
 friend, who was preparing to alight at the end 
 of his own street. 
 
 But Woodhouse put in a cordial objection to 
 their parting thus, and invited both his old ac- 
 quaintances to dine with him. 
 
 " We '11 do it in style. I 've capital claret 
 at my lodgings, and cigars, real Havannas, and 
 Meershaums too : which do you smoke. King 
 Cole ?" said the youth, not long out of his
 
 \ 
 
 PROSPERITY HAS ITS DANGERS. 165 
 
 tefciis, with thfi careless, independent air of one 
 who thought himself quite a man, and a man 
 of fashion too. 
 
 " I do n't smoke at all : I should not like it 
 I fancy ; and besides, I am too young," an- 
 swered the simple-minded Cola. At which 
 Morris cast up his eyes, and rubbed his inci- 
 pient moustache with his cane, in a silent ex- 
 pression of compassionate wonder. 
 
 " Well, you '11 both come ; we '11 manage 
 to make a night of it, somehow or other : per- 
 haps drop in at the Opera, which opens to- 
 night ; I 've got tickets." 
 
 " That will be delicious," cried the enthu- 
 siastic Italian, to whom a pleasure so rare con- 
 veyed delight inexpressible. " You will come, 
 Archy ; only this once !" 
 
 But Archy had to be at Bread-Street by 
 nine : his quiet regular habits were not easily 
 broken in upon ; — also, he was not very much 
 fascinated with the society of Morris Wood- 
 house, and never cared to visit the Opera. A 
 friendly discussion ended in his bidding adieu 
 to both, and taking his way to the dull abode 
 of Mrs. Jones. Only, as he jumped out of the 
 omnibus, he managed to whisper to his friend — 
 
 "I say, Cola, take care of yourself: don't 
 forget the picture !"
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A TIME OF DARKNESS. 
 
 The picture did indeed stand a chance of 
 being forgotten, or at least neglected. Cola 
 tried to set to work again on the next day, 
 but it was in vain ; he was too tired to paint. 
 He had come home at three in the morning ; 
 not indeed after any excesses, for Cola's nature 
 was too refined and pure to allow him ever 
 to become either a glutton or a wine-bibber. 
 But he had supped with Morris after the 
 opera, and then had to walk home three miles, 
 through a bleak March night. He reached his 
 lodgings, his brains still dizzied by the fumes 
 of cigars, and his frame thoroughly chilled 
 and exhausted with bodily fatigue, after men- 
 tal excitement. He scolded poor Seppi for 
 having gone to sleep and let the fire out, and 
 then went wearily to bed. He rose, not, as was 
 his custom, with the lark, that sang merrily 
 over the Highgate fields, but with the baker's
 
 A TDIK OF DARKNESS. " 167 
 
 cart, that never came until twelve a. m. The 
 picture had little attractions this morning. 
 
 He sat before it ; the palette, which Seppi 
 regularly set, getting dryer and dryer. His 
 head ached, his hand was unsteady ; he found 
 fault with what he had already done, and yet 
 felt too stupid to improve it. At last he began 
 to think it was no use working that day, and 
 would turn out for a walk. But before he had 
 summoned the resolution necessary to take hat 
 and gloves, a visitor came in : it was Morris 
 Woodhouse. 
 
 " Really, old fellow, how knocked up you 
 look ! Flow d' ye feel, eh ? As if you had 
 eaten an apple-dumpling, and it had got in 
 your head ?" suggested the young Cantab, in 
 his usual elegant diction. 
 
 Cola laughed, though he experienced a 
 slight sensation of shame. But this was less 
 on account of his last night's exploit, than of 
 its effects. He felt annoyed that he could not 
 stand dissipation as well as the other. 
 
 " Come, do n't be a girl ; you '11 get used to 
 this sort of work in time," said Morris, with 
 a patronizing air. " On with your hat, and 
 we '11 take a run down the river, to Richmond, 
 Just to freshen you up."
 
 168 STORY OP A GENIUS. 
 
 The proposal sounded most welcome to the 
 poor jaded boy. It was a lovely spring morn- 
 ing ; the banks of the river would look beau- 
 tiful. Besides, argued Cola to himself, an 
 artist must study nature in the open air, as 
 well as paint at home, so it would not be throw- 
 ing away a day. 
 
 But he did contrive to throw away the day, 
 nevertheless, and the next day too ; for the 
 repetition of late hours entailed the sacrifice 
 of that precious morning freshness in body 
 and mind, without which intellectual labor is 
 but vain, or else pursued with a struggle and 
 effort that risks both health and peace. Then 
 Sunday came, with Archibald to dinner, as 
 usual ; but that true and steady friend looked 
 gravely at the small progress made in the pic- 
 ture, and Cola resolved that on Monday morn- 
 ing he would " turn over a new leaf." 
 
 This metaphorical performance is one more 
 easily talked of than done, especially to a youth 
 of Cola's temperament — energetic in great 
 things, but feeble and vacillating in the smaller 
 affairs of life. He found the " leaf" to stick 
 very much ; and at last he determined not to 
 try to turn it over at all, until Woodhouse was 
 gone. Every day the young collegian talked
 
 A TIME OF DARKNESS. 169 
 
 of being off to Cambridge, and it was not worth 
 while vexing him by refusing the continual 
 amusements which his somewhat reckless gen- 
 erosity provided for his old schoolmate. 
 
 Seven days passed — fourteen : — it was the 
 last week in March, that week of all weeks to 
 the artist brotherhood. Our poor Cola sat 
 before his unfinished picture in perfect despair. 
 Morris had at last gone, and the whirl of 
 amusement over, the young painter had time 
 to think what it had cost him. 
 
 A year's prospects, perhaps the good fortune 
 of a life-time, thrown away for one short sea- 
 son of pleasure ! He hated, despised himself; 
 he would have wrung his hands, and wept like 
 a child, only he was not alone ; Archibald 
 stood behind, with an expression of deep regret 
 on his calm, serious face. 
 
 "It is no use lamenting. Cola," he said, 
 kindly ; " you must try again next year. The 
 picture could not be finished now, if you were 
 to work ever so hard." 
 
 "But it shall be finished!" cried Cola, 
 almost frantically. " I will do it, if I die 
 over it !" 
 
 McKaye shook his head. " My dear Cola, 
 judging by the rate at which you used to paint, 
 
 15
 
 170 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 it would take two or three weeks' work, and 
 you have only ten days before the day of send- 
 ing in to the Academy." 
 
 " I can make them twenty, by adding the 
 nights. Do n't thwart me, Archibald ; do n't, 
 if you ever cared for me in your life !" he 
 added, pleading with a touching emphasis. " I 
 have been a fool, an idiot ! I know I have, but 
 I will make up for it. The picture must be 
 finished, or it will drive me mad !" 
 
 And it was finished. Night and day Cola 
 worked, allowing himself only an hour or two 
 for sleep, and scarcely taking any food. His 
 wild and desperate energy sustained him to a 
 decree almost miraculous. Under the influ- 
 ence of this terrible excitement his powers 
 seemed redoubled ; he painted as he had never 
 painted before. Archibald, evening after even- 
 ing, walkrd up from Islington, not to talk or 
 reason, — he dared not do that in Cola's present 
 state, — but to sit quietly in the painting-room, 
 watching his labors, and at times encouraging 
 them with a few subdued words of praise, which 
 Cola sometimes scarcely heard. Even McKaye 
 was astounded by the almost marvellous waj 
 in which, day after day, the picture advanced 
 to completion beneath the young artist's hand ;
 
 A TIME OF DARKNESS. 171 
 
 and as he looked he could not but acknowledge 
 that there is nothing in this world so strong, so 
 daring, so all-powerful as genius. 
 
 The first Monday in April came — there were 
 but four-and-twenty hours left ; Tuesday — 
 there were but twelve ! Seppi stood by with 
 the untasted dinner, his bright black eyes con- 
 tinually filling with tears. He dared not even 
 speak to his young master, who, with wild and 
 haggard looks, was painting still. 
 
 The clock struck six, as Cola's now tremb- 
 ling hand put the last stroke to his picture, and 
 sank on a chair. 
 
 " It will do now, I think ; it will not disgrace 
 me, at least." 
 
 " No indeed it will not, dear Cola ! It is a 
 beautiful picture," whispered the gentle, en- 
 couraging voice of Archy, who had come direct 
 from Bread-Street, hither. " And now, do have 
 some dinner, or what will be better for you, 
 some tea." 
 
 " No, no, I can't eat ; we shall lose the time, 
 the Academy will be shut. Seppi ! I must have 
 a cab, and go there at once." 
 
 Archibald saw resistance would have been 
 vain and cruel, so he quietly suffered his friend 
 to step into the cab, and followed him. All
 
 172 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 the long ride to Trafalgar Square, Cola did not 
 utter a single word, but sat motionless with his 
 picture in his arms. McKaye offered to hold 
 it, but the other rejected his aid with a slight 
 motion of the head. At last Cola relinquished 
 this darling first-fruits of his genius, with a look 
 something like of a mother parting from a be- 
 loved child, and then sank fainting into his 
 friend's arms. 
 
 That P'crhf Cola Monti was in a brain-fever.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 JOT AT LAST. 
 
 The poor young artist lay ill for several 
 weeks. Indeed, during the whole of April, he 
 never awoke to a clear consciousness of what 
 was passing around him. His overtasked 
 brain seemed to settle into a dull torpor ; he 
 made no inquiries about his picture, and ap- 
 peared to have forgotten all concerning it. 
 Perhaps, in some respects, this state of oblivion 
 was fortunate, as it saved him from that rack- 
 ing suspense which would at any time have 
 been torture to his sensitive mind. 
 
 Cola was well cared for during his illness ; 
 how could it be otherwise, with Scppi for nurse 
 and servant, and Archy for a friend ? They 
 both watched over him with unceasing affection, 
 the former hardly taking rest either night or 
 day. At length the poor invalid was able to be 
 carried down stairs in McKaye's strong arms, 
 Seppi following after, bearing half-a-dozen un- 
 necessary pillows, and almost weeping with joy.
 
 174 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 It was a lovely evening, at the close of April, 
 and the little room, half-parlor, half-studio, 
 looked very pleasant, China-roses peeped in at 
 the window, and between the casts which 
 adorned the mantelpiece, Seppi had placed 
 glasses full of spring flowers. He had taken 
 care, too, to arrange the various legs, and arms, 
 and torsi of plaster in what he considered ex- 
 cellent order, and the long-disused easel was 
 placed in one corner. 
 
 Cola looked at it, then round the room, and 
 again at his beloved easel. He laid his head, 
 feeble as a child's, on Archy's shoulder, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 After this evening, his strength returned 
 rapidly. He was very gentle and patient ; 
 did not express much anxiety about his picture ; 
 indeed, he seldom spoke of it, until the opening 
 of the Exhibition. Then he grew less calm, 
 and asked Archibald, not restlessly, but with a 
 sort of child-like longing, when he would let 
 him try to get as far as the Academy. 
 / 1 know you cannot go, Archy, now that you 
 stay so late at Bread-Street. And, indeed, I 
 hardly hope or expect that the picture will be 
 in ; it would be more happiness than I deserve ; 
 I who made myself ill so wickedly, and have
 
 JOY AT LAST. 
 
 175 
 
 given you and poor Seppi so much care and 
 trouble. But still I should like to know." 
 
 " You shall know, dear Cola ; you shall go 
 as soon as ever you are well enough. Be 
 content till then." And with a gentleness 
 beautiful to see, Archy soothed his friend, who 
 looked up to him in everything with patient 
 dependence. 
 
 Two or three days after, McKays entered, 
 his bright open countenance looking brighter 
 than ever. 
 
 " I shall take you a ride this morning, Cola," 
 he said, cheerfully. " Those excellent old 
 souls at Bread Street have given me a holiday, 
 and we '11 spend it in style. I have a cab at 
 the door, so make haste and get ready. And 
 Seppi need not muffle you up quite so much as 
 he does, for those lazy noon-day daunderings 
 up the road ; you are getting stronger now, 
 you know." 
 
 " How kind of you, Archy ; and to bring a 
 carriage too." 
 
 " Not quite so grand a one as Sir Archibald 
 McKaye is to drive you in some of these days. 
 But we '11 have a foretaste of the pleasure now, 
 so jump in." 
 
 They drove round the parks, the fresh May
 
 176 STORY OF A GENITTS. 
 
 breeze bringing a faint color to the young art- 
 ist's cheek. But when they entered London 
 streets and stopped at the Academy, Cola grew 
 pale and trembled. Archy, kind, considerate 
 Archy, strange to say, did not seem to mind 
 his agitation in the least. 
 
 "Be a brave fellow, Cola, and hope for the 
 best !" he whispered, with a cheerful counte- 
 nance, as he drew the feeble arm through his, 
 and led his friend on. 
 
 " Tell me, Archy, do you know" mur- 
 
 mured poor Cola. 
 
 " I wont tell you anything at all ; you shall 
 find it out for yourself," was the smiling 
 answer. 
 
 They entered one of the smaller rooms, and 
 there, hung in a very good light, — the dear 
 image of his precious picture looked down upon 
 the bewildered Cola. 
 
 " You cut quite a dash among the miniatures ; 
 and be very thankful that you are kept out of 
 the octagon-room — ^the Black Hole that you 
 used to talk so much about. Well, are you 
 not ready to get up and dance a Highland 
 reel ? — a fandango, I mean. I could, I assure 
 you," cried Archy, trying in his usual fashion 
 to disperse with comicality the strong emotion
 
 JOY AT LAST. 177 
 
 under which Cola labored, and from which he 
 himself was not free. 
 
 They found a seat, for the poor youth could 
 neither stand nor speak. Thither, a few min- 
 utes after, came the gliding step and low voice 
 of Mr. Crome, who was full of praises and con- 
 gratulations. 
 
 " I have some news also, perhaps better than 
 these empty encomiums," said the rich court 
 artist. Allow me to introduce you to a gentle- 
 man who will purchase your picture, and com- 
 mission a companion to it. And though you 
 are still a youth, let me once more have the 
 pleasure of prophesying, that I know no artist 
 moi*e likely to rise to eminence than my young 
 friend Niccolo Monti." 
 
 " What do you say to this, Cola?" cried Ar- 
 chibald, as they were again alone, driving 
 homewards. 
 
 Cola folded his hands together, and a wild 
 enthusiastic joy shone in his dark upturned 
 eves. " Thank God ! thank God !" was all he 
 said. 
 
 The words consecrated — and will consecrate 
 — his whole life !
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE story's end, BUT THE REAL LIFE's BEGINNING. 
 
 I HAVE few words more to say, for Cola 
 Monti is still young, and it takes many years 
 of patient and laborious study of Art, before 
 the most talented youth can become a great 
 painter. But the Italian is steadily following 
 in the track which so many noble men, perhaps 
 the noblest on earth, have trod before him. 
 
 He neglects no study that may perfect his 
 powers and render him truly great, remem- 
 bering that the culture of genius should end 
 but with life. You may still see, drawing at 
 the Academy, a slender, graceful young man, 
 with a beautiful Italian countenance. Look 
 on his drawing-board, and you will find his 
 name — a name already known in Art, though 
 he does not disdain to let it rank among the 
 humble students, — " Niccolo Monti." He has 
 wisely dropped the long word " Fiorentino," as 
 well as the aristocratic del, thinking it nobler 
 to be a great artist than to count his descent
 
 THE STORY EXDS. 179 
 
 from Italian princes. But perhaps he may 
 compromise the matter a little when he goes to 
 Rome next year with the ever-faithful Seppi. 
 
 If you were to follow the young artist home, 
 you would find him in the same pretty cottage, 
 somewhere near Highgate. It is all his own 
 now, though ; for he is prosperous in his cir- 
 cumstances, and proves, rather to Mr, Crome's 
 annoyance, that a man may paint great histor- 
 ical pictures, and not starve. Almost within 
 sight of the artist's pleasant home is that of 
 the young merchant. Archibald McKaye is 
 rising fast in the world, as he was sure to do ; 
 and amidst all his well-earned prosperity, he 
 carries in his bosom the same true Scottish 
 heart, beating calmly, silently, but how 
 warmly, those whom he loves and who love 
 him can tell ! — none better than Cola Monti. 
 The two friends did take the projected High- 
 land journey, — though not until last year, — 
 and the grand family group was then really 
 painted. Every one considered it a great 
 work ; all but the artist, who was never satis- 
 fied that he had done justice to any of the 
 heads, especially to sweet Jessie's. It is a 
 valuable and dear-loved picture now, for the 
 revered old father has been since gathered to
 
 180 STORY OF A GENIUS. 
 
 his Highland grave. Archibald is going to 
 fetch his mother and sister to live with him at 
 Highgate. But it is just possible that this ex- 
 cellent arrangement may not hold out longer 
 than Cola's return from Rome. 
 
 And now let us leave them both — Archibald 
 and Cola, — leave them to work out the bright 
 future which is before each. They will tread 
 divers paths, one walking calmly, nobly, and 
 perseveringly, along the beaten track of life ; 
 the other pressing on toward that glorious 
 destiny which will make him renowned in his 
 day, and remembered afterwards with glory, 
 Let them go on their way, for each is greatly 
 to be honored. One is the Man of Industry ; 
 the other the Man of Genius. 
 
 THE ERD.
 
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