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BY G. S. STREET.

TOM'S PROFESSION.

ERHAPS the gravest trial I have to record of my friends-worse than Menguratra, than Cousin Charlotte, even than Somers in his five hundred a year days-was occasioned by the extraordinary proceedings of Tom Bantock on his leaving Oxford a year ago. There is something, if not in names generally, at least in those by which people call their relations or intimate friends: it may be significant that while Russell Bantock was never called anything but Russell, his younger brother was always known by the heartier but less dignified name of Tom. There was certainly a great difference between the two brothers. As a boy at school, Tom, though sometimes in scrapes, seemed to be quite correct in his general ideas and behaviour, but, in the freer life of Oxford, he quickly showed that he did not share Russell's perfect prudence, and when he came down for good it was found-alas-that he could not emulate, nay, that he even despised Russell's absolute correctness in every sphere of life-in deportment, in amusements, and in the choice of acquaintances. I would not blame Tom too severely; he was cheerful, high-spirited, and good-natured, and these lighter virtues may to some extent be set against the more sterling qualities of his brother, whose preoccupation with correctness does, perhaps, result in

a demeanour a trifle too severe. But at this period, poor Tom went very much too far.

As I have related, it was the intention of Mr. and Mrs. Bantock that Russell should inherit nearly all his father's property, and take an even higher position in English life: he was to go into Parliament later on, and it was hoped, by his wealth and superior talent, would die the first of a line of titled and securely settled Bantocks. So that Tom could not expect more than a moderate allowance. It was intended that he should go into the Church there was a living attached to Mr. Bantock's estate in the country, and it was hoped that Tom might rise to be a Dean or a Canon, and in that way contribute to the position of his family. When he first went to Oxford, Tom acquiesced in this really nice idea for his future, though without much enthusiasm. But then came that natural and excusable on the ground of his beautifully joyous temperament-but most unfortunate period of wildness, most unfortunate indeed for the plan entertained for his future, since it resulted in his being sent down for good at the end of his second year. The difficulty was not, of course, insuperable. After a decent interval, and residence at a theological college, Tom might still have been ordained. But a greater difficulty arose: Tom refused to go into the Church. He said that he was not fit for it, and had no inclination for it whatever.

Everybody argued with him. Mr. Bantock pointed out that in the Church he would be comfortably provided for in life; Russell insisted on the necessity that a man who is not rich should have a profession undeniably that of a gentleman; I think Mrs. Bantock enlarged on the good he would be able to do. For my part, I explained to him over and over again that those who are wild in youth often make the best clergymen. He would listen to no argument, and mine he even repelled with a contumely which I am determined to forget. It had finally to be acknowledged that, for Tom Bantock, the Church was no longer in question.

What was to be done? Tom seemed to have no idea on the subject at all. He said that he would not mind reading for the Bar, but Mr. Bantock was convinced that he would never make money at that, and, in any case, it must be a long time before he could. The army was possible by way of the militia, but that was an expensive course, and one likely to encourage Tom in what seemed to be constitutional idleness-I regret to say. Russell objected to his going into the Bank, foreseeing troubles and complications from his presence there; besides, there would be no room for another partner, especially for one who brought in no capital of his own. The Stock Exchange was suggested, but nobody believed in Tom's capacity to make money there. And it was stated forcibly by Russell, in an extremely wise argument, wise beyond his years, that while commercial pursuits were excellent for the younger sons of the aristocracy, for the younger sons of those whose position, however excellent, was in a way based upon money, the profession, as such, of a gentleman was imperative. If only Tom could be made the secretary of a statesman-one with good social connections—

or, if an opening could be found for him in the diplomatic service! But, alas! no such opening presented itself.

Meanwhile, Tom stayed at home doing nothing, and, I regret to say, vexed the peace of the Bantock family by sordid discussions about money. His habits were extravagant. He did not spend, of course, so much money as his brother, but he spent it so foolishly-so wickedly, as Mrs. Bantock was obliged to tell him. That is to say, he would give dinners to people whom he professed to like, but who could be of no use to him, socially, at all, and he would go and bet at race meetings to which nobody wentnobody, that is to say, except those who were interested in racing. Then, again, he would disappear for a week or two, and it would leak out that he had been hunting, a pursuit in which, it is true, he met some really nice people, but which was not worth the money he wasted on it. Of course, he soon found himself in pecuniary difficulties.

I remember very well the painful scene which ensued when this fact first became known. As has been related, Cousin Charlotte, showing for once her better nature, had paid Tom's debts when he left Oxford; since then he had received an allowance which should have been ample for his needs. Well, one morning I went early to Grosvenor Place, Mrs. Bantock having honoured me with a commission to investigate some cases on the list of a charitable society of which she was then the energetic secretary. I called, in obedience to a post-card, to take down the names and addresses. I found Mrs. Bantock, Russell, and Tom in the dining-room, finishing breakfast, and was aware at once that some discussion of an unpleasant nature was in progress. As I entered the room, Russell said: "We'll discuss it some other time," but Tom said, "Oh, he doesn't matter remark which showed that after all Tom appreciated my friendship—and the discussion went on. It seemed that Mr. Bantock had received that morning an intimation from a money-lender that, unless a certain sum-over a hundred pounds-borrowed by Tom, was paid at once, an action would be brought against Tom. Mr. Bantock had gone to the City before Tom was up, and had deputed Mrs. Bantock and Russell to speak seriously to him. The discussion went on, and I report it verbally to show what poor Mrs. Bantock and Russell had to endure at this time.

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"It is infamous," said Mrs. Bantock, "after all we have gone through on your account! "

"Oh, you never went through anything. Cousin Charlotte paid."

"If you insult me," Mrs. Bantock said with dignity, "I must leave the room."

"Well, but look here," the misguided young man exclaimed, “it's a beastly shame. Russell has two thousand a year and I only have five pounds a week.”

"My good fellow," Russell answered, with admirable good humour, “in the first place I'm your elder brother and in the second place I do some work."

"Oh, rot about elder brother," returned the incorrigible Tom; you talk

as though the governor were a Duke. And as for work, you don't do as much work in a week as the cook does in a day, and that's more skilled work than yours into the bargain. It's beastly unfair."

Russell, of course, ignored this absurd tirade, but Mrs. Bantock interposed on his behalf. "Your brother," she said severely to Tom, "spends his money profitably; you waste yours." Tom was ready with a wickedly senseless retort. "I know," he said contemptously, "He spends his money in making a show and ingratiating himself with people who wouldn't care twopence about him if he was poor. Russell's a snob." Russell could afford, of course, to ignore this ridiculous charge which he had often, quite unnecessarily, repudiated. But he was naturally offended, and got up and left the room. Mrs. Bantock continued to speak gravely, but kindly, to Tom.

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"You can't expect your father to pay this," she said. 'But, of course, something must be done. Perhaps your Cousin Charlotte-." Tom rudely interrupted. "Why should she?" he asked, forgetting what kindness Cousin Charlotte owed his family. "I simply can't ask her. The

governor must pay-it's ridiculous to make all this fuss. You can spare it easily, if it comes to that, and I could have a decent allowance if he didn't have all those confounded servants and carriages and rot." And then he proceeded, to my consternation, to make a personal attack on his mother, and, with a strange, unconscious irony, strange even in one SO unfortunately distraught, he chose the very point on which she proves her superiority to a common, but disastrous failing, that is,

not giving way to her native generosity and humouring people's vices and extravagances, especially, as an ordinary mother might, those of a younger and less worthy son. "Why," he said brutally-I must really call it so "if you gave me a quarter of the money you spend on dress, as any other mother would, I should be all right.'

I expected that Mrs. Bantock would crush him with a well-merited rebuke, but I estimated her wonderful patience too low. Instead she made a good-humoured joke, and said, "I should like to whip you!" But Tom answered rudely: "Do; the exercise would do you good." Mrs. Bantock rose and turned to me. "Come to the drawing-room," she said, "and I'll give you that list. I can't stay here to be insulted." But Tom interposed. "All right," he said, "I'll go." He left the room, slamming the door. I thought, when he was gone, that even Mrs. Bantock might break down, after all this brutality shown to her by one she loved. But I was mistaken. She turned at once to other matters and began with a remark which showed her kindness to myself, an heroic courtesy which added, if anything could, to my admiration for her. "I'm afraid," she said, "that Shoreditch is rather a long way off. It's so good of you to go for me: I couldn't find time myself. I'm really quite grateful to you." And, if she showed some acerbity, a little later on, over my slowness in grasping all the details of the charitable cases, as she dictated the matters into which I was to enquire, that, I am sure, was due to my own stupidity, not to any loss of temper in herself.

I learned afterwards that Mr. Bantock paid the money-lender, but intimated to Tom that he must find work on penalty of losing his allowance. And then came poor, mad Tom's crowning act of disregard for the feelings of his family.

I was dining, a few weeks later, with the Bantocks, who were alone.