The other day, in looking over my papers, I found in my desk the following copy of a letter, sent by me a year since to an old school acquaintance:―

"Dear Charles,

"I think when you and I were at Eton together, we were neither of us what could be called popular characters: you were a sarcastic, observant, shrewd, cold-blooded creature; my own portrait I will not attempt to draw, but I