"Yes, make me a man, like my papa! When I'm big, I'll drink, oh, bottles and bottles; not have a taste of papa's," said the child, looking contemptuously at the remains of the sparkling wine, which, in his father's glass, had been set before him. "When you're a man, Roland, you will be a little wiser than you are now," said his father, somewhat sharply. "I'll be as wise as--as--that man in the picture on the library wall, perhaps." "Who's that?" asked the guest, in amused tones. "Why, Gladstone! The precocious youngster strongly admires him, and is for ever declaring his intention of copying his hero's plan of life." "He has the brow and eye of a genius, West!" said the visitor, gazing in admiration at the boy's face. "I wish I had such a child! What are you going to make of him?" "I'll give him a good education, first; fit him for the bar, if he takes kindly to the idea, and he ought, for he talks like a lawyer already. Yes, he'll make his mark, I shouldn't wonder," replied the father, with pride; "but what's the matter with the boy? sleepy! at this time! Here, sit up! Mamma, his forehead's burning. Lucy, has he had a fall upstairs?" "No, papa: but he was asleep when Barnes came for us, and nurse had to wake him up to come down." Mr. and Mrs. West looked anxiously at the child, who was already asleep, and after observing his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing, Mrs. West sent for the nurse. "Nurse," she said, as the servant entered the room, "have you noticed Master Roland seeming unwell to-day?" "No, ma'am, he was as bright as usual this morning; but, when we were at dinner, I happened to turn my head to attend to Miss Hetty, and Master Roland emptied my glass of ale, and since then he has been very drowsy, and I could scarcely rouse him to bring him downstairs." "Oh, nurse, I wish you would take your ale some other time; if the children see you taking it they are sure to want it, and I never allow them to touch anything but a little wine," exclaimed Mrs. West. "Roland won't come to any harm, my dear, so don't trouble yourself. Carry him away, nurse, and put him straight to bed. He'll be all right in the morning," said Mr. West. Nurse obeyed, looking much aggrieved. Bending over the sleeping child she murmured: "What with my ale and his father's drops, the boy's drunk. Poor little fellow! he'll make his mark, as they're so fond of saying, but I'm afraid it will be a very black one. But I'll take no more blame to myself, for Master Roland shall never see me touch my ale again; not for missis's sake, though," added the girl with a dark look. Ten years went by, and again Mr. West entertained the same friend at his well-spread table. "What has become of that fine little fellow of yours, West? Roland, I think you called him," inquired the guest, looking round the table and missing from amongst the youthful faces the one that had struck his fancy years ago. "The young scamp's just finishing his schooldays," answered the father.