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 high-spirited fellows, I shouldd't do as I do, if thidgs were cobfortable at hobe."

"Then do you not study now at all?" inquired Sylvester.

"Study! I believe I do study," replied Tom. "Why, I wouldd't be plucked for a billiod of buddy! You shall see how add where I study, whed we get hobe. I have a couple of the bost perfect skelotods that were ever put together, with spridgs complete frob head to foot, which would albost idduce you to ibagide that you saw the very actiod of the buscles! Study!—Why, I'b at it all the bording; it's odely at dight that I break loose eved for ad hour. Do, Syl; I bay sobetibes kick over the traces; but I look to the baid chadce: I have, add the goverdor kdows that I have, too buch pride to be plucked at either the College or the Hall. But here we are," he added, on reaching home, "all id good tibe. Ted to a bidite!—Doctor at hobe, Jabes?" he inquired of the servant.

"No, sir."

"Tell theb we're id, add gode up to by study. Cobe alodg, Syl," he added, leading the way, and Sylvester followed to the top of the house, where they entered a room strewn with books, plates, and bones, while on the right, as they entered, stood two tall figures enveloped in bags.

"Dow thed, look here," said Tom, taking off the bags, and displaying two really majestic skeletons. "There! what do you thidk of theb?"

"They appear to be very perfect: very perfect indeed."

"Perfect! I believe they are perfect. Look here!—look at the spridgs!—they'll stadd id ady attitude you please! They'll fedce with you—box with you—dadce with you—do adythidg you like. This is the bale add that's the febale: they were twids—rub-uds, wered't they?"

"They must have been finely formed persons," said Sylvester. "I'll look at them again in the morning: I shall see them then to greater perfection. Where did you get them?"

"Goverdor gave theb to be!" replied Tom, covering them up again. "He gave a huddred guideas for theb; but for adotobical study they're worth a thousadd to ady bad alive. There's dothidg like 'eb id Europe! They are a pair of regular beauties.—That's a budkey," he added, pointing to a beautiful little skeleton. "There's dothidg codtebptible eved id that!—good forb, you see—very good forb. Do you kdow buch about cobparative adatoby?"

"Not much," replied Sylvester."

"Thed, study that. If you kdow a budkey, you kdow a bad: to parody the poet's lide—Bad—of course physically—

But I'll show you theb all id the mordidg. That's a cat!—capital cat, isd't it? I've killed lots of 'eb, but dever foudd ode to equal that."

"What, do you kill 'em yourself?" inquired Sylvester.

"Kill 'eb? Perhaps I dod't! Why there isd't a cat that'll cub withid a bile of this house! They all kdow be. Look here," he added, opening the window; "here's a beautiful parapet, gutter add all!—a capital