are the reminiscences of a man's early youth interesting: to the parent
who nursed him; to the fond wife or child mayhap afterwards who loves
him; to himself always and supremely--whatever may be his actual
prosperity or ill-fortune, his present age, illness, difficulties,
renown, or disappointments, the dawn of his life still shines brightly
for him, the early griefs and delights and attachments remain with him
ever faithful and dear. I shall ask leave to say, regarding the juvenile
biography of Mr. Clive Newcome, of whose history I am the chronicler,
only so much as is sufficient to account for some peculiarities of his
character, and for his subsequent career in the world.

Although we were schoolfellows, my acquaintance with young Newcome at the
seat of learning where we first met was very brief and casual. He had the
advantage of being six years the junior of his present biographer, and
such a difference of age between lads at a public school puts intimacy
out of the question--a junior ensign being no more familiar with the
Commander-in-Chief at the Horse Guards, or a barrister on his first
circuit with my Lord Chief Justice on the bench, than the newly breeched
infant in the Petties with a senior boy in a tailed coat. As we "knew
each other at home," as our school phrase was, and our families being
somewhat acquainted, Newcome's maternal uncle, the Rev. Charles Honeyman
(the highly gifted preacher, and incumbent of Lady Whittlesea's Chapel,
Denmark Street, Mayfair), when he brought the child, after the Christmas
vacation of 182-, to the Grey Friars' school, recommended him in a neat
complimentary speech to my superintendence and protection. My uncle,
Major Pendennis, had for a while a seat in the chapel of this sweet and
popular preacher, and professed, as a great number of persons of fashion
did, a great admiration for him--an admiration which I shared in my early
youth, but which has been modified by maturer judgment.