found grievously wanting. There was Uncle Thomas--a failure from
the first. Not that his disposition was malevolent, nor were his
habits such as to unfit him for decent society; but his rooted
conviction seemed to be that the reason of a child's existence
was to serve as a butt for senseless adult jokes,--or what, from
the accompanying guffaws of laughter, appeared to be intended for
jokes. Now, we were anxious that he should have a perfectly fair
trial; so in the tool-house, between breakfast and lessons, we
discussed and examined all his witticisms, one by one, calmly,
critically, dispassionately. It was no good; we could not
discover any salt in them. And as only a genuine gift of
humour could have saved Uncle Thomas,--for he pretended to naught
besides,--he was reluctantly writ down a hopeless impostor.

Uncle George--the youngest--was distinctly more promising. He
accompanied us cheerily round the establishment,--suffered
himself to be introduced to each of the cows, held out the right
hand of fellowship to the pig, and even hinted that a pair of
pink-eyed Himalayan rabbits might arrive--unexpectedly--from town
some day. We were just considering whether in this fertile soil
an apparently accidental remark on the solid qualities of guinea-
pigs or ferrets might haply blossom and bring forth fruit, when
our governess appeared on the scene. Uncle George's manner at
once underwent a complete and contemptible change. His interest
in rational topics seemed, "like a fountain's sickening pulse,"
to flag and ebb away; and though Miss Smedley's ostensible
purpose was to take Selina for her usual walk, I can vouch for it
that Selina spent her morning ratting, along with the keeper's
boy and me; while, if Miss Smedley walked with any one, it would
appear to have been with Uncle George.