exception of his sister Alethea, and she was too quick and lively for his somewhat morose temper.  He was always the scapegoat, and I have sometimes thought he had two fathers to contend against—­his father and his brother John; a third and fourth also might almost be added in his sisters Eliza and Maria.  Perhaps if he had felt his bondage very acutely he would not have put up with it, but he was constitutionally timid, and the strong hand of his father knitted him into the closest outward harmony with his brother and sisters.

The boys were of use to their father in one respect.  I mean that he played them off against each other.  He kept them but poorly supplied with pocket money, and to Theobald would urge that the claims of his elder brother were naturally paramount, while he insisted to John upon the fact that he had a numerous family, and would affirm solemnly that his expenses were so heavy that at his death there would be very little to divide.  He did not care whether they compared notes or no, provided they did not do so in his presence.  Theobald did not complain even behind his father’s back.  I knew him as intimately as anyone was likely to know him as a child, at school, and again at Cambridge, but he very rarely mentioned his father’s name even while his father was alive, and never once in my hearing afterwards.  At school he was not actively disliked as his brother was, but he was too dull and deficient in animal spirits to be popular.

Before he was well out of his frocks it was settled that he was to be a clergyman.  It was seemly that Mr Pontifex, the well-known publisher of religious books, should devote at least one of his sons to the Church; this might tend to bring business, or at any rate to keep it in the firm; besides, Mr Pontifex had more or less interest with bishops and Church dignitaries and might hope that some preferment would be offered to his son through his influence.  The boy’s future destiny was kept well before his eyes from his earliest childhood and was treated as a matter which he had already virtually settled by his acquiescence.  Nevertheless a certain show of freedom was allowed him.  Mr Pontifex would say it was only right to give a boy his option, and was much too equitable to grudge his son whatever benefit he could derive from this.  He had the greatest horror, he would exclaim, of driving any young man into a profession which he did not like.  Far be it from him to put pressure upon a son of his as regards any profession and much less when so sacred a calling as the ministry was concerned.  He would talk in this way when there were visitors in the house and when his son was in the room.  He spoke so wisely and so well that his listening guests considered him a paragon of right-mindedness.  He spoke, too, with such emphasis and his rosy gills and bald head looked so benevolent that it was difficult not to be carried away by his discourse.  I believe two or three heads of families in the neighbourhood