But good bye, in a great hurry.

With much love, I remain your very affectionate brother, "LOUIS FRANCIS MORTIMER.
"P.S.

Do you remember cousin Vernon's laughing at our embrace at Heronhurst?
I wonder when I shall have another--I am longing so to see you." It would not concern my readers much were I to describe the precise locality of the renowned Dr.Wilkinson's establishment for young gentlemen--suffice it to say, that somewhere near Durdham Down, within a short walk of Clifton, stood Ashfield House, a large rambling building, part of which looked gray and timeworn when compared with the modern school-room, and sundry dormitories, that had been added at different periods as the school grew out of its original domains.

Attached to the house was a considerable extent of park land, which was constituted the general play-ground.
At the time of which I am writing, Dr.Wilkinson's school consisted of nearly eighty pupils, all of whom were boarders, and who were sent from different parts of the kingdom; for the doctor's fame, as an excellent man, and what, in the eyes of some was even a greater recommendation, as a first-rate classical scholar, was spread far and wide.

At the door of this house, one fine April day, Louis presented himself; and, after descending from the vehicle which brought him from Bristol, followed the servant into the doctor's dining-room, where we will leave him in solitary grandeur, or, more correctly speaking, in agitating expectation, while we take a peep at the room on the opposite side of the hall.