all at once, without speaking, he struck suddenly and strongly.
I tottered, and on regaining my equilibrium retired back a step
or two from his chair.

"That is for your impudence in answering mamma awhile
since," said he, "and for your sneaking way of getting be-
hind curtains, and for the look you had in your eyes two
minutes since, you rat!"

Accustomed to John Reed's abuse, I never had an idea of
replying to it; my care was how to endure the blow which
would certainly follow the insult.

"What were you doing behind the curtain?" he asked.

"I was reading."

"Show the book."

I returned to the window and fetched it thence.

"You have no business to take our books; you are a de-
pendent, mamma says; you have no money; your father left
you none; you ought to beg, and not to live here with gentle-
men's children like us, and eat the same meals we do, and
wear clothes at our mamma's expense. Now, I'll teach you
to rummage my bookshelves: for they are mine; all the
house belongs to me, or will do in a few years. Go and stand
by the door, out of the way of the mirror and the windows."

I did so, not at first aware what was his intention; but
when I saw him lift and poise the book and stand in act to
hurl it, I instinctively started aside with a cry of alarm:
not soon enough, however; the volume was flung, it hit me,
and I fell, striking my head against the door and cutting it.
The cut bled, the pain was sharp: my terror had passed its
climax: other feelings succeeded.

"Wicked and cruel boy!" I said. "You are like a murderer
-- you are like a slave-driver -- you are like the Roman em-
perors!"

I had read Goldsmith History of Rome, and had formed
my opinion of Nero, Caligula, etc. Also I had drawn paral-
lels in silence, which I never thought thus to have declared
aloud.

"What! what!" he cried. "Did she say that to me? Did
you hear her, Eliza and Georgiana? Won't I tell mamma?
but first --"

He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my

-7-