Till Archer came, the ideas of _favourites_ and _parties_ were almost unknown at Dr. Middleton’s; but he brought all these ideas fresh from a great public school, at which he had been educated—at which he had acquired a sufficient quantity of Greek and Latin, and a superabundant quantity of party spirit. His aim, the moment he came to a new school, was to get to the head of it, or at least to form the strongest party. His influence, for he was a boy of considerable abilities, was quickly felt, though he had a powerful rival, as he thought proper to call him, in De Grey; and, with _him_, a rival was always an enemy. De Grey, so far from giving him any cause of hatred, treated him with a degree of cordiality, which would probably have had an effect upon Archer’s mind, if it had not been for the artifices of Fisher. It may seem surprising, that a _great dunce_ should be able to work upon a boy like an Archer, who was called a great genius; but when genius is joined to a violent temper, instead of being united to good sense, it is at the mercy even of dunces. Fisher was mortally offended one morning by De Grey’s refusing to translate his whole lesson for him. He went over to Archer, who, considering him as a partisan deserting from the enemy, received him with open arms, and translated his whole lesson without expressing _much_ contempt for his stupidity. From this moment Fisher forgot all De Grey’s former kindness, and considered only how he could in his turn mortify the person whom he felt to be so much his superior. De Grey and Archer were now reading for a premium, which was to be given in their class. Fisher betted on Archer’s head, who had not sense enough to despise the bet of a blockhead. On the contrary he suffered him to excite the spirit of rivalship in its utmost fury by collecting the bets of all the school. So that this premium now became a matter of the greatest consequence, and Archer, instead of taking the means to secure a judgment in his favour, was listening to the opinions of all his companions. It was a prize which was to be won by his own exertions; but he suffered himself to consider it as an affair of chance. The consequence was, that he trusted to chance—his partisans lost their wagers, and he the premium—and his temper. “Mr. Archer,” said Dr. Middleton, after the grand affair was decided, “you have done all that genius alone could do; but you, De Grey, have done all that genius and industry united could do.” “Well!” cried Archer, with affected gaiety, as soon as the doctor had left the room—“Well, I’m content with _my_ sentence. Genius alone! for me—industry for those who _want_ it,” added he, with a significant look at De Grey.