But that's not all: he's a quarrelsome, spiteful, sore-headed chap, that won't do as other people.

He never laughs heartily like a man, but always in a half-sniffling sort of manner that actually makes me sick at my stomach.

Then, he never plays and makes merry along with us, and, if he does, harm is always sure, somehow or other, to come of it.

When other people dance and frolic, he stands apart, with scorn in his face, and his black brows gathering clouds in such a way, that he would put a stop to all sport if people were only fools enough to mind him.

For my part, I take care to have just as little to say to him as possible, and he to me, indeed; for he knows me just as well as I know him: and he knows, too, that if he only dared to crook his finger, I'm just the man that would mount him on the spot." Ralph could not exactly comprehend the force of some of the objections urged by his companion to the character of Rivers: those, in particular, which described his aversion to the sports common to the people, only indicated a severer temper of mind and habit, and, though rather in bad taste, were certainly not criminal.