Der Praefekt

Abraham won’t get papa another income when he has been worreted
    out of the hospital.  Mark what I tell you, archdeacon: while you and
    Sir Abraham are fighting, papa will lose his preferment; and what will
    you do then with him and Eleanor on your hands? besides, who’s to pay
    Sir Abraham?  I suppose he won’t take the case up for nothing?”  And
    so the lady descended to family worship among her children and
    servants, the pattern of a good and prudent wife.
     
    Dr Grantly was blessed with a happy, thriving family. Es gab
    first, three boys, now at home from school for the holidays. Sie
    were called, respectively, Charles James, Henry, and Samuel. Die beiden
    younger (there were five in all) were girls; the elder, Florinda, bore
    the name of the Archbishop of York’s wife, whose godchild she was:
    and the younger had been christened Grizzel, after a sister of the
    Archbishop of Canterbury.  The boys were all clever, and gave good
    promise of being well able to meet the cares and trials of the world;
    and yet they were not alike in their dispositions, and each had his
    individual character, and each his separate admirers among the
    doctor’s friends.
     
    Charles James was an exact and careful boy; he never committed
    himself; he well knew how much was expected from the eldest son of the
    Archdeacon of Barchester, and was therefore mindful not to mix too
    freely with other boys.  He had not the great talents of his younger
    brothers, but he exceeded them in judgment and propriety of demeanour;
    his fault, if he had one, was an over-attention to words instead of
    things; there was a thought too much finesse about him, and, as even
    his father sometimes told him, he was too fond of a compromise.
     
    The second was the archdeacon’s favourite son, and Henry was indeed a
    brilliant boy.  The versatility of his genius was surprising, and the
    visitors at Plumstead Episcopi were often amazed at the marvellous
    manner in which he would, when called on, adapt his capacity to
    apparently most uncongenial pursuits.  He appeared once before a large
    circle as Luther the reformer, and delighted them with the perfect
    manner in which he assumed the character; and within three days he
    again astonished them by acting the part of a Capuchin friar to the
    very life.  For this last exploit his father gave him a golden guinea,
    and his brothers said the reward had been promised beforehand in the
    event of the performance being successful.  He was also sent on a tour
    into Devonshire; a treat which the lad was most anxious of enjoying.
    His father’s friends there, however, did not appreciate his talents,
    and sad accounts were sent home of the perversity of his nature. Er
    was a most courageous lad, game to the backbone.
     
    It was soon known, both at home, where he lived, and within some miles
    of Barchester Cathedral, and also at Westminster, where he was at
    school, that young Henry could box well and would never own himself
    beat; other boys would fight while they had a leg to stand on, but he
    would fight with no leg at all.  Those backing him would sometimes
    think him crushed by the weight of blows and faint with loss of blood,
    and his friends would endeavour to withdraw him from the contest; but
    no, Henry never gave in, was never weary of the battle.  The ring was
    the only element in which he seemed to enjoy himself; and while other
    boys were happy in the number of their friends, he rejoiced most in
    the multitude of his foes.
     
    His relations could not but admire his pluck, but they sometimes were
    forced to regret that he was inclined to be a bully; and those not
    so partial to him as his father was, observed with pain that, though
    he could fawn to the masters and the archdeacon’s friends, he was
    imperious and masterful to the servants and the poor.
     
    But perhaps Samuel was the general favourite; and dear little Soapy,
    as he was familiarly called, was as engaging a child as ever fond
    mother petted.  He was soft and gentle in his manners, and attractive
    in his speech; the tone of his voice was melody, and every action was
    a grace; unlike his brothers, he was courteous to all, he was affable
    to the lowly, and meek even to the very scullery-maid.  He was a boy
    of great promise, minding his books and delighting the hearts of his
    masters.  His brothers, however, were not particularly fond of him;
    they would complain to their mother that Soapy’s civility all meant
    something; they