anxious to show his friendly feeling in a variety of ways. I have seldom seen a fellow so greatly changed for the better as Houlston became, owing, I believe, greatly to the way Arthur had pleaded his cause when the rest of us seemed inclined to revenge ourselves still further than we had already done.

I should not have mentioned the circumstance, except for the sake of the moral it taught me. There is an old saying, that when a bull runs at you the best way of escaping him is to seize him by the horns; and from the manner we overcame Houlston, I am convinced of the wisdom of the advice. Ever since, when a difficulty has occurred, I have seized it boldly, grappled with it as we grappled with Houlston, summoned up all my courage, resolution, and strength, just as Tony and I called our companions to our assistance, and dragged it, metaphorically speaking, to the ground, gagged it as we gagged the bully, and not let it loose again till I have been convinced that it would no longer trouble me. Again, when I have had any difficult thing to do, I have done it at once, or tried my best to do it. I have never put off a disagreeable thing which I may have had to do till another day. I have got it over as soon as possible, whatever it may have been. I have generally found that the anticipation is worse than the reality. I cannot understand what made Houlston take to bullying; and I must say after this he showed much good feeling, and became a firm friend both to Tony and me, not appearing to harbour any ill-feeling for the way we had treated him.

I must hurry over my school-boy days. I was not able to carry out my plan of the menagerie the next summer. My uncle, instead of going to his country house, took us all to the sea-side. I, however, on that occasion picked up a good deal of knowledge about vessels and boats, and fish, and marine animals; and instead of a menagerie we had an aquarium, into which we used to put the small fish and other creatures we caught in the pools on the rocks. I was making an important step in the study of natural history—gaining the custom of observing the habits of creatures. The following year I carried out my long-intended plan, having induced one of my cousins to join me in it. We made several cages and boxes; and among our captives we numbered a couple of rabbits, a weasel, hedgehog, ferret, and stoat, with a number of pigeons and other birds, and, I may add, three or four snakes. We caught a viper—or, as it is frequently called, an adder—the only venomous creature which exist in England; but my uncle objected to our keeping it alive, though he consented to its being turned into a bottle of spirits. We killed another, and cut off its head to observe its poisonous fangs. On dissecting the head, we found that the fangs exist on either side of the upper jaw, in which they lie down flat towards the throat. They are on hinges, the roots connected with little bags of poison. When the creature is irritated and about to bite, these fangs rise up. They are hollow, with small orifices at their points. When biting, the roots of the fangs are pressed against the bags of poison, which thus exudes through the orifices and enters the wound they make. All venomous serpents are provided with fangs, but in the jaws of some species the fangs, instead of lying down, are always erect, ready for action. The nature of the poison varies in different species. The poison of some produces paralysis; that of others causes the body when bitten to swell and become putrid. The venom of some is so powerful that it rapidly courses through the veins and destroys life in a few minutes; that of others makes much slower progress. The English viper, or adder, has but a small quantity of poison in its bag, and its bite rarely produces death. Some of the smallest snakes, in tropical climes, are the most venomous. However, I shall by-and-by have a good deal to say on the subject.

From what I have mentioned, it will be understood that I had already got a taste for and some insight into natural history, and when I returned to school I was able to discourse very learnedly on the subject. This made Tony more anxious to carry out our long-projected undertaking. Still, as we were very well treated at school, we had no excuse for running away, and put it off from day to day. At length, in truth, we began to grow wiser, and look at it in a different light. Tony, indeed, one day confided his plan to Houlston.

“Well, when you make up your mind to go, just tell me,” said Houlston.

“What I would you go with us?” exclaimed Tony. “That would be capital. With a big fellow like you we should be able to make our way anywhere.”

“Not exactly that,” was the answer. “I’ll tell you what I should do, Nyass. As soon as I found that you had started, I should make chase after you and bring you back. Depend upon it, it would be the best mark of friendship I could show you! Time enough by-and-by—when you have gone through school and been at college, and got a little more knowledge than you now possess in your heads—to start on such an expedition. I have a great notion that I should like to do something of the sort myself; so, if you ever start on an expedition to South America or any other part of the world, find me out if you can, and let me know, and then perhaps I shall be ready to accompany you.”

These sensible remarks of Houlston put Tony completely off his purpose, and we finally agreed to follow the advice of our school-fellow, and wait patiently till we had finished our studies.

In the meantime I should say that my mother had rejoined my father at Quito. When I first came to England I thought that the time when I should leave school was a very long way off. It seemed like a dream when I found myself at last a big fellow of sixteen at the commencement of the summer holidays. There was Ellen, almost a grown-up young lady—in my eyes, at all events—and John, who had been in Uncle James’s counting-house in London, a man with big whiskers.

“Well, Harry,” said Uncle James, “would you like to go back to school, or accompany John and Ellen to South America? Your father wishes to have John’s assistance, and perhaps you also can make yourself useful.”

Although by this time I found school a far pleasanter place than when I was a little boy, yet, as may be supposed, I did not take long to decide.

“I will accompany John,” I said without hesitation.

“We shall have to part with you soon, then, I am sorry to say,” observed my uncle; “for Captain Byles, who still commands the Inca, is about to sail for Guayaquil. In consequence of the emancipation of the Spanish South American provinces from the iron yoke of the mother country, their ports are now free, and ships of all nations can trade to them, which was not the case when you came home. Captain Byles has twice before been to the Pacific, and we have resolved to send the Inca there again. He will be very glad to have you as passenger. You must lose no time, therefore, in getting ready.”

I replied very honestly that I was sorry to leave him and aunt and cousins; but, at the same time, I could not help feeling delighted at the thought of again seeing my father and mother and Fanny, and revisiting the magnificent scenes which had made so deep an impression upon my mind, besides being able to indulge on a large scale in the study of the natural history of that wonderful region. I did not forget my friends, Tony and Arthur Mallet, and as soon as I had time I sat down and wrote to them both. At the end of a week I received the following reply from Tony:—

“Dear Harry,—Your letter threw me into a state of wild commotion. You to be actually starting for the country we have so often talked about, while, as far as I could see, I was destined to stick quietly at a desk in my father’s counting-house. After thinking the matter over, however, and recollecting how kind and considerate he has always been, I determined to show him your letter, and tell him frankly of my