will take a thrashing if need be: who is his hero. Clive was John Jamess youthful divinity: when he wanted to draw Thaddeus of Warsaw, a Prince, Ivanhoe, or some one splendid and egregious, it was Clive he took for a model. His heart leapt when he saw the young fellow. He would walk cheerfully to Grey Friars, with a letter or message for Clive, on the chance of seeing him, and getting a kind word from him, or a shake of the hand. An ex-butler of Lord Todmorden was a pensioner in the Grey Friars Hospital (it has been said that at that ancient establishment is a college for old men as well as for boys), and this old man would come sometimes to his successors Sunday dinner, and grumble from the hour of that meal until nine oclock, when he was forced to depart, so as to be within Grey Friars gates before ten; grumble about his dinner grumble about his beer grumble about the number of chapels he had to attend, about the gown he wore, about the masters treatment of him, about the want of plums in the pudding, as old men and schoolboys grumble. It was wonderful what a liking John James took to this odious, querulous, graceless, stupid, and snuffy old man, and how he would find pretexts for visiting him at his lodging in the old hospital. He actually took that journey that he might have a chance of seeing Clive. He sent Clive notes and packets of drawings; thanked him for books lent, asked advice about future reading anything, so that he might have a sight of his pride, his patron, his paragon. 10 inch strap on
I am afraid Clive Newcome employed him to smuggle rum-shrub and cigars into the premises; giving him appointments in the school precincts, where young Clive would come and stealthily receive the forbidden goods. The poor lad was known by the boys, and called Newcomes Punch. He was all but hunchbacked; long and lean in the arm; sallow, with a great forehead, and waving black hair, and large melancholy eyes.
What, is it you, J. J.? cries Clive gaily, when his humble friend appears at the door. Father, this is my friend Ridley. This is the fellow what can draw the best strap ons
I know who I will back against any young man of his size at that, says the Colonel, looking at Clive fondly. He considered there was not such a genius in the world; and had already thought of having some of Clives drawings published by MLean of the Haymarket.
This is my father just come from India and Mr. Pendennis, an old Grey Friars man. Is my uncle at home? Both these gentlemen bestow rather patronising nods of the head on the lad introduced to them as J. J. His exterior is but mean-looking. Colonel Newcome, one of the humblest-minded men alive, has yet his old-fashioned military notions; and speaks to a butlers son as to a private soldier, kindly, but not familiarly.