hope is to have the chance of bringing my share of renown to my
father's name, that his cousin may never regret having helped me to my
heart's desire.

Fred Johnson and I are very good friends, but since our barge voyage
we have never been quite so intimate. I think the strongest tie
between us was his splendid stories of the captain, and I do not
believe in them now.

Oddly enough, my chief friend--of the whole lot--is Weston. Rupert
always said I had a vulgar taste in the choice of friends, so it seems
curious that of our old schoolmates Johnson should be his friend and
Weston mine. For Johnson's father is only a canal-carrier, and Weston
is a fellow of good family.

He is so very clever! And I have such a habit of turning my pockets
inside out for everybody to see, that I admire his reticence; and
then, though he is so ironical with himself, as well as other people,
he has very fine ideas and ambitions and very noble and upright
principles--when you know him well.

"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," and the fire that burned
down our house got Weston into print at last.

It was not a common letter either, in the "correspondence" part, with
small type, and the editor not responsible. It was a leading article,
printed big, and it was about the fire and Rupert and Henrietta.
Thomas Johnson read it to us, and we did not know who wrote it; but it
was true, and in good taste. After the account of the fire came a
quotation from Horace,