It had been gall and wormwood to me.

I loathed myself for having to put them on, and loathed him as the malicious instrument that caused me to be so degraded--the more especially as my cousin would in "a friendly sort of way" frequently allude to the circumstance of the clothes having been formerly his, calling attention to my want of care in treating them properly! All things have an end, fortunately, and the morning arrived at last when I had to bid farewell to the villa on the outskirts of Islington where I had passed so many miserable years.

Molly, the servant-maid, was the only one in the house with whom I parted with any regret; and it was with feelings considerably more exultant than sad that I accompanied my uncle to the City in the omnibus which he always took to his place of business, that convenient vehicle passing by in its route the corner of the road where uncle lived.
Arriving at the London Bridge terminus, Uncle George ensconced me and my box in a train, bound for Beachampton, at which retired and out-of-the- way little watering-place was situated Dr Hellyer's school.
Handing me then my railway ticket and a two-and-sixpenny "tip," Uncle George gave me a hearty hand-shake, wishing me good-bye and a safe journey.
"Mind you be a good boy, and pay attention to your lessons," he said.
"And--listen, Martin--should you ever be in any serious trouble, you can write and let me know.

But mind," added Uncle George, "you mustn't forget, my boy, to address your letters to my office, and not to the villa; for your Aunt Matilda might not like the idea, you know, eh!" "All right, Uncle George," I answered.

"I will remember where to write to, never fear.