“At my grandfather’s death he left every farthing he possessed to his eldest son. Angry at the injustice, my father refused his brother’s offer of an allowance, and unwisely determined to dispute the will. Accordingly, he not only lost his cause, but irritated my uncle to such a degree, that all communication ceased between them. When I was approaching the august age of ten years, and affairs seemed to be coming to a crisis, by some chance I, playing with and apparently absorbed by a regiment of tin soldiers, happened to be present at a family committee of ways and means. During this colloquy, the unfortunate disagreement between the brothers was talked over and lamented by my mother; who exerted all her eloquence to persuade my father to write to this Admiral and inform him of his failing health and ruined fortunes, and trust to his generosity to forgive and forget the past. But my father’s pride stood in the way. He would willingly have been reconciled to his brother, _if_ he had not required pecuniary assistance at his hands; but the consciousness of this necessity rendered him inexorable. So finding his wife’s arguments unanswerable, he adopted the usual resource in such cases--viz., he talked himself into a rage, and flinging out of the room, slammed the door behind him, leaving my mother and me _tête-à-tête_. “After a minute’s silence, I surprised her by asking, ‘Papa’s very poor, and my uncle’s very rich; and papa would ask uncle to give him some money, only they quarrelled when grandpapa stopped papa’s pocket-money: isn’t that it, mamma?’ “‘Yes, my dear,’ was the reply; ‘but you must not talk about it to anybody remember.’ “I nodded assent, then resumed, ‘Uncle’s a good, kind man, isn’t he?’ “‘Yes, my love; a good man I know him to be, and he was kind once,’ was the reply. “‘Then why don’t you go and tell him that papa’s very sorry he was naughty, and wants to make friends again; and if uncle is good and kind, he will say yes; and when they are friends again, uncle will be sure to give him some of his pocket-money without being asked, because they are brothers. Won’t that do, mamma?’ “My mother rose with tears in her eyes, stroked the hair back from my forehead, imprinted a kiss on it, and murmuring, ‘Your papa would never allow me to do so, darling,’ quitted the room.