"Well, young gentleman," exclaimed he, cheerfully, "the enemy is repulsed, you see, although, I confess, your friend the baronet is rather a formidable fellow. He's uncommonly like Front de Boeuf. I daresay you have read the new romance of 'Ivanhoe,' have you not?"

"Marmaduke has, sir, I believe," replied I; "but I am sorry to say I am no great reader."

"That is not well, Mr. Meredith; youth is the time for reading. A knowledge of books, if they are sufficiently varied, is half-way towards the knowledge of men. It is true that a student may turn out a fool, because he may have been a book-worm; but the probability is greater of that misfortune befalling one who has been 'no great reader.' I would not say so much, if you were older than you are, and had not plenty of time before you to redeem the past. There is nothing more contemptible than ignorance; save, perhaps"—here he sighed—"than knowledge misapplied. What a dangerous villain would that man be, for instance, who has just been here, had his natural powers been cultivated by study. As it is, he rushes headlong, like the bull." Here he turned upon me gaily. "Did he ever toss you, my young friend?"

"Well, sir," returned I, remembering that interview in the churchyard, "he bellowed at me once a little."

"Did he, my boy, did he?—the cowardly brute! Well, I've put a ring through his nose for a considerable time to come, I flatter myself. I like a bull-fight. I think I should have made a capital matador," cried Mr. Gerard, rubbing his hands and laughing.

"How did you—how did you manage to ring him, sir?" inquired I, with hesitation, for I was curious to see whether Mr. Gerard would make me a confidant of what had passed.

"Oh, I watched him carefully—never took my eyes off him for a moment. When he was calm in his white malice, then I irritated him by waving my red flag—this silver-headed brandy-flask put him in a horrible rage. When he made his rushes, I stood aside, and let him go where he would. When he had exhausted himself, I stepped in, and gave him the steel. I wonder," soliloquized Mr. Gerard, aloud, as he slowly paced up and down the room—"I wonder if it would be safe to give him the coup de grace!"

"But," said I, "were you not afraid—"

"My dear young friend," said my host, with seriousness, but placing his hand kindly upon my shoulder, "an honest man should never be afraid of a fellow-creature. 'Fear God,' it is written; but even the king is only to be honoured."

It is impossible to express the grave and noble air with which Mr. Gerard spoke those words: I felt such an affectionate awe of him from that moment, as no other person has ever inspired within me.