their advantages. And there was something in the countenance of the dead man so refined, so intellectual, and so gentlemanly, that he was sure he was superior to any Mr. Hammond had previously engaged.
"I suppose your papa—Mr. Staunton, I mean—knew everything that boys should know; languages, and figures, and geography, and spelling, and all ha sort of thing," said Allan.
"Papa never was a tutor in his life. I don't quite know how he will like it. He was an author in London, and a critic for the Palladium."
Allan's reverence for the dead man rose still higher. What treasures were to be buried with him, that Allan would give up his fair worldly prospects to possess! No doubt he was a genius, and his want of success in life perhaps was rather proof of it than otherwise.
"He's an Oxford man, I heard Mrs. Hammond saying to Mr. Louis," said Tom Cross; "and she seemed mightily taken up with he notion that he had got some sort of a degree, though I am sure I don't know what it is; but of course she knows. She's uppish, and always was; but she's kind too, and this poor young lady will find that out, never fear."
In spite of the well-worn black frock and the