pardon for abusing him, and praise the beauty of his matchless eyes.

Children are usually better judges of grown-ups than grown-ups are of
children. This boy at five years of age had estimated his mother's
character correctly. He knew that she was not his steadfast friend, and
that she was unworthy of his confidence and whole heart's love. He grew
moody, secretive, wilful. Once, being wrongly accused and punished, he
seized a knife from the table and was about to apply it to his throat when
he was disarmed. The child longed for tenderness and love, and being
denied these, was already taking on that proud and haughty temper which
was to serve as a mask to hide the tenderness of his nature.

We are told that seven brothers Byron fought at Edgehill, but when we get
down to the time of Mad Jack there was danger of the name being snuffed
out entirely. Nature is not anxious to perpetuate the idle and dissipated.

When little George Gordon was ten years old, his mother one day ran to
him, seized him in her arms, wept and laughed, then laughed and wept,
kissing him violently, addressing him as "My Lord!"

His great-uncle, William, Lord Byron of Rochdale and Newstead Abbey, had
died, and the big-eyed, lame boy was the nearest heir--in fact, the only
living male who bore the family-name. The next day at school, when the
master called the roll and mentioned his name with the prefix "Dominus,"
the lad did not reply "Adsum"--he only stood up, gazed helplessly at the
teacher, and burst into tears.

Even at this time he had given promise of the quality of his nature, by
his firm affection for Mary Duff, his cousin. All the intensity of his
childish nature was centered in this young woman, several years his