of the Peaks, and she ardently desired that the children, now
exclusively her own, might enter life on a plane superior to their
father's.

'Godwin, how would you like to go to College and be a clergyman?'
she asked one Sunday afternoon, when an hour or two of congenial
reading seemed to have put the boy into a gentle humour.

'To go to College' was all very well (diplomacy had prompted this
preface), but the words that followed fell so alarmingly on Godwin's
ear that he looked up with a resentful expression, unable to reply
otherwise.

'You never thought of it, I suppose?' his mother faltered; for she
often stood in awe of her son, who, though yet but fourteen, had
much of his father's commanding severity.

'I don't want to be a parson,' came at length, bluntly.

'Don't use that word, Godwin.'

'Why not? It's quite a proper word. It comes from the Latin
~persona~.'

The mother had enough discretion to keep silence, and Godwin, after
in vain trying to settle to his book again, left the room with
disturbed countenance.

He had now been attending the day-school for about a year, and was
distinctly ahead of his coevals. A Christmas examination was on the