The Human Boy

elf, I ought to know. Of corse, fags do get it pretty hot sometimes if they happen to fag for a beast, but big fellows aren't beasts to small ones as a general thing

Watson major, one of the reserves for th

Bradwell, I shouldn't have run the awful risks I did for him. What I did certinly ruined a great project of Bradwell's, and upsett him a good bit at the time. But he said afterwards, when the blow had fallen, and when he could look back and think of it without smacking my head, that I had ment we

n in "knickers," though he is the best goalkeeper that was ever known at Dunston's. Of course, his affair with Mabel Dunston would never have got to be known by me but for my great use to Bradwell in carrying notes. Being in the Doctor's house that term I was easily able to do this, and there was a jar of green stuff in the hall where she told me to leave the notes, which I did. She was fifteen, I believe, or else sixteen, but well on in years anyway, and a few months older than Bradwell. It was his general brillance won her, for he could do anything, and his father had plenty of money, being a man like Whitely's in London, only in the North of England. Bradwell drew alm

is because such a lot

nvisibel to the eye. He wore necktyes which I remember hearing Mathers say were an insult to nature, and would 119have made a rainbow curl up and faint. We always noticed, at arithmetic times, that Browne, if he got a stumper, would put up the lid of his private desk and hide behind it--of course

f the chapel, and I, being in the gardener's potting-shed at th

his beastly books, and leave rosebuds with scented verbena leaves round th

she

, that I am my own mistress. 120Besides, the in

his. His voice squeaked up into his he

a muscle on him; and he doesn't kno

talk to you, or show you what is in him. But he tells me all about

n he do?" said Bradwell, awfu

doesn'

an he

N

play the

N

l could do to perfecksun, so he

sides jaw the kids and al

now I'll tell you what he can do: he can write poetry out of his own h

down in the face at this. He didn't say anything--appeering

d Shelley, and write poems yourself, it w

id Bradwell, in a

Mabel; "but I admire him, and I admire his poet

then, I suppose

ing that has never begun can't be all over"; which word

corse, I couldn't help hearing what I had done, though I tried hard

s with Browne. He found the snake appeering to Sulla in my Latin grammar, and called me up and said he knew very well I hadn't drawn it myself, but wanted to know who had. He said

said the same now to Browne. I said I left the book 123on my desk, and somebody came along and done it while I was out of the room. Browne seemed inclined not to believe this. Anyway, he took

to glance there, and juge of my surprise when the first words I saw at the top of a big sheet of paper were, "To Mabel"! Underneeth was a lot of writing, and the whole table seemed to be littered with paper covered with small bits of separa

send to her. I felt if she got it, knowing what she'd said to Bradwell about Browne, that it was certin she would abbandon Bradwell, him not being any good at poems. I wouldn't have done it for anybody

off to Bradwell. He was in his study, and Trelawny, who shares i

not there, and happening by a curious axcident to glance on the table

t?" said

front of him, and he

abel by that beas

to himself, but I heard.

MA

e sing to the

yes are faste

et-me-nots i

heart's torm

spin; my brain

Thee. Perchanc

ch my mad am

ver 'midst sc

righten all m

ke a vulture

sts and under

shattered by

ild, I scream

ths I yearn to

n't quite understand

amly 126fine one. I hate the chap, but it's no good pretending he's not a poet

ay that, feeling as he did to Browne. He

t be returned. All's fair in--

rd for word. Then he told me to cut back like lightning to Browne's study, and to put the poem back on his desk if I co

. It's the sort of thing that squires did for their knights

to get praise like that fr

ortunity, and slipped the sonnit on his table under some papers. When he came back he was worried, and went on hunting till he found it. Then he said "Ah!" to himself, and got pleasant

note for Mabel to put in the usual place. He looked awfully rum whe

my trusting you as I do. You may read the letter in prayers, then seal i

ell word for word; and at the bottom where the words, "What about poetry now?--A. T. B." A. T. B. are Bradwell's initials, his ful

there was nothing in Bradwell's letter to exsaxtly say he hadn't written it; and puzzling the thing out for hours and hours, I at last came to the conklusion that she would find it very difficult which to believe, because how could she know which was telling the truth to her? Then, about three or four in the morning almost, I began to feel rather 129terrible o

and told me the end of it all, which shows

may tell you that my career has been utterly blighte

as sorry t

s

y same stuff to a word from Browne, with a letter 130saying he had burned the midnight oil to compose it. Well, there you are. What does she do? Insted of accepting my statement, being the first, she argues in a most elaborate way that I

I didn'

t Browne did do that; because when I first read his poem I could hardly believe that he had written such real poetry, owing to the rimes and smoothness. But

t Browne?

she doesn't believe they are original, and saying how another acquaintance of hers had s

ut I felt it wa

u see 'all's fair' and all that; but now, being out of the hunt, o

you won't mention me, I hope, because I only a

ou did do," said Bradwell. "But seeing I'm out of it, I think it will be

me?"

e poem, and, of course, brought it 132to me; that I despatched it--as a joke, taking

e no humer and laughed it off, though he felt it a lot, and often smacked my head out of bitterness of mind afterwards, but not ha

atever that is; and I had a nemmecis to, because a week afterwards Bradwell threw over me and made young West his fag. I felt hert, but, of c