"We find," he said, after a little preliminary speech, "that six of the essays were most laudable, but out of them two were selected for their excellence--one on account of the beauty of the language, the other on account of its vivid realism and striking, rhetorical figures. The one written by Hector is admirable in wording and has many fine points, but lacks the realism and subject matter and thought of the other. We have decided that the silver medal goes to him who has adopted the certainly inappropriate and inapplicable nom-de-plume of Asinus Cornubiensus." There was a pause, and the students at length, realising the meaning of the Latin nom-de-plume, which was the "Ass, or Donkey of Cornwall," burst into a roar of laughter. "Certainly," resumed the gentleman, "this Asinus Cornubiensus has demonstrated a grasp of thought, power of language, and vivid description that belies his humble name, and renders him worthy of the prize. Stand up, Asinus Cornubiensus, and receive the silver medal." Dick stood up, much confused, and received the prize. There was a cheer. Even Ande was astonished, and greeted his old friend with more respect. It is needless to say that Hector was Tenny, who was bubbling over with rage and mortification, to think that he was not only beaten in the general prize but also in the essay, and in the latter case by one whom he had always considered a stupid dunce, the worst scholar in the form. The rest of the day was dedicated to the examinations of the sixth and the distribution of prizes in that form. Our two prize winners of the fifth wended their way out from the school and hied away from the town to one of their accustomed haunts, near the coast, high up on the cliffs. Here, throwing themselves down on the long grass, they watched, for the time, the active sea-birds and the flitting sails far out on the channel. At length, turning from the contemplation of these, Ande addressed his friend. "Dick, what led you to choose such a queer nom-de-plume?" and he smiled. "Well, I was always considered a dull'ead and never thinking I'd get the medal, I put down the name in a little disgust, thinking it to be the most appropriate one." "What was the subject?" "You can't guess?" "No." "Well, it was on that hurling game between Breage and our fellows, and I just played the game over again in imagination when I was writing." "That accounts for its realism, no doubt." "Did 'ee notice Tenny after the general prize was given?" "No." "His face was as wisht[7] as a herring." [7] Wisht--sickly. "No doubt. I noticed him after the silver medal was given and he was green around the eyes." "Serves him right," said Dick, "for sending us to Coventry on account of that tale of Creakle about your father and grandfather." There was silence for a moment, unbroken save by the breaking of the waves on the beach beneath.