What Will He Do With It | Page 2

supercilious, not a nose provocative, as such noses
mostly are, but a nose decidedly in earnest to make the best of itself
and of things in general,--a nose that would push its way up in life, but
so pleasantly that the most irritable fingers would never itch to lay hold
of it. With such a nose a man might play the violoncello, marry for love,
or even write poetry, and yet not go to the dogs.
Never would he stick in the mud so long as he followed that nose in the
air.
By the help of that nose this gentleman wore a black velveteen jacket of
foreign cut; a mustache and imperial (then much rarer in England than
they have been since the Siege of Sebastopol); and yet left you
perfectly convinced that he was an honest Englishman, who had not
only no designs on your pocket, but would not be easily duped by any
designs upon his own.
The companion of the personage thus sketched might be somewhere
about seventeen; but his gait, his air, his lithe, vigorous frame, showed
a manliness at variance with the boyish bloom of his face. He struck the
eye much more than his elder comrade. Not that he was regularly
handsome,--far from it; yet it is no paradox to say that he was beautiful,
at least, few indeed were the women who would not have called him so.
His hair, long like his friend's, was of a dark chestnut, with gold
gleaming through it where the sun fell, inclining to curl, and singularly
soft and silken in its texture. His large, clear, dark-blue, happy eyes

were fringed with long ebon lashes, and set under brows which already
wore the expression of intellectual power, and, better still, of frank
courage and open loyalty. His complexion was fair, and somewhat pale,
and his lips in laughing showed teeth exquisitely white and even. But
though his profile was clearly cut, it was far from the Greek ideal; and
he wanted the height of stature which is usually considered essential to
the personal pretensions of the male sex. Without being positively short,
he was still under middle height, and from the compact development of
his proportions, seemed already to have attained his full growth. His
dress, though not foreign, like his comrade's, was peculiar: a broad-
brimmed straw hat, with a wide blue ribbon; shirt collar turned down,
leaving the throat bare; a dark-green jacket of thinner material than
cloth; white trousers and waistcoat completed his costume. He looked
like a mother's darling,--perhaps he was one.
Scratch across his back went one of those ingenious mechanical
contrivances familiarly in vogue at fairs, which are designed to impress
upon the victim to whom they are applied, the pleasing conviction that
his garment is rent in twain.
The boy turned round so quickly that he caught the arm of the
offender,-- a pretty village-girl, a year or two younger than himself.
"Found in the act, sentenced, punished," cried he, snatching a kiss, and
receiving a gentle slap. "And now, good for evil, here's a ribbon for you;
choose."
The girl slunk back shyly, but her companions pushed her forward, and
she ended by selecting a cherry-coloured ribbon, for which the boy paid
carelessly, while his elder and wiser friend looked at him with grave,
compassionate rebuke, and grumbled out,--"Dr. Franklin tells us that
once in his life he paid too dear for a whistle; but then he was only
seven years old, and a whistle has its uses. But to pay such a price for a
scratch-back!--Prodigal! Come along."
As the friends strolled on, naturally enough all the young girls who
wished for ribbons, and were possessed of scratch-backs, followed in
their wake. Scratch went the instrument, but in vain.

"Lasses," said the elder, turning sharply upon them his nose in the air,
"ribbons are plentiful,--shillings scarce; and kisses, though pleasant in
private, are insipid in public. What, still! Beware! know that, innocent
as we seem, we are women-eaters; and if you follow us farther, you are
devoured! "So saying, he expanded his jaws to a width so
preternaturally large, and exhibited a row of grinders so formidable,
that the girls fell back in consternation. The friends turned down a
narrow alley between the booths, and though still pursued by some
adventurous and mercenary spirits, were comparatively undisturbed as
they threaded their way along the back of the booths, and arrived at last
on the village-green, and in front of the Great Stage.
"Oho, Lionel!" quoth the elder friend; "Thespian and classical,--worth
seeing, no doubt." Then turning to a grave cobbler in leathern apron,
who was regarding with saturnine interest the motley figures ranged in
front of the curtain as the Drumatis Persona, he said, "You seem
attracted, sir; you