observes, 'turneth away wrath.' Well has it been said by Plato, that 'passionate persons are like men who stand on their heads: they see all things the wrong way.' Your conduct, Grainger, is most disgraceful; and let me warn you, that if you continue thus, I shall expel you from my school. To live with persons who are passionate and quarrelsome, is like living in a house that is on fire; and the peace of my pupils shall not long be disturbed by you. Let me ask you, what have you ever gained by being quarrelsome?" Nothing, sir!" replied Grainger, sturdily; "but I will not be offended."

66

To have made his real sentiments known, he ought to have added "with impunity," and our good master taking advantage of his blunder, replied to that effect. "But," continued he, "I am willing to take your reply as it stands. I am willing to think that you will now resolve to try and take offence no more. By taking revenge, a man or boy is but even with his enemy; in passing over it, he is superior. A poet has given this sage advice upon the sin to which you are so prone :—

"Learn well betimes to curb pernicious ire,

Nor stay till kindling sparks ascend the fire;
Be all mad rage, all anger then resigned-
A cruel heart ill suits a human mind.'

History records that an emperor of China, once making progress through his dominions, was entertained in a house in which the master, with his wives and children, his daughters-in-law, grandchildren, and servants, all lived together in harmony. Struck with admiration at the spectacle, the emperor requested the master of the

house to inform him what means he employed to preserve quiet among such a number and variety of persons. The old man, taking out a pencil, wrote these three words-Patience, patience, patience. In passing through this world, unhappy boy, you will find that you have much need of this noble quality. What think you would have become of all of us, if the Almighty had not been patient-bearing with our daily and hourly provocations? Long before now we should have perished in our sins. Banish, therefore, all malignant and revengeful thoughts. A spirit of revenge is the very spirit of the devil, and he who indulges in it transforms himself into the likeness of that wicked being. Think, also, of the torment that such a spirit will inflict upon you. If it be not satisfied, it will give you torment now and if it is, it will give you greater hereafter. No one is, indeed, a greater selftormenter than a malicious and revengeful person, for he turns the poison of his own temper in upon himself. Pray for grace, then, that you may be enabled to conquer this evil disposition which you possess, and to comply with this Christian precept: 'Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.' I close this exhortation by demanding that each of you shake hands and be friends."

Charles Murphy, evidently sorry that his waggery had caused so much disturbance, readily held out his hand, but the demand was thrice repeated before Grainger obeyed, and when he did it was with tardy reluctance. It was clear that it was foreign to his wish, and it soon became certain that he had not profited by the lesson, nor by

any other which he had received in the school. His irascibility seemed daily to increase, and Mr. White was at length compelled to pen the following letter to his father, and to send him home with it :

"DEAR SIR,-I feel that you will not be surprised at seeing your son return home, because I have on former occasions prepared your mind to expect such an event. I have been under the painful necessity of telling you, that if he did not cease from strife, I must expel him from my school. His disposition, so far from improving, seems to become worse daily, and, therefore, for the peace of my other pupils, I am compelled to adopt this alternative. Once only have I had occasion before to exhibit myself in so harsh a character, and I trust that this will be the last time, for, as you well know my paternal feelings, it causes me much uneasiness. Commiserating with you for being afflicted with a son possessing such an untractable disposition, and hoping that he may yet remember, and profit by my lessons on the evil of his conduct, I beg leave to subscribe myself," etc.

Having seen this letter safely locked in the culprit's box, our master gave him a few parting words, and led him to a chaise which was waiting at the gate to take him away. All the boys were lurking about to see him depart, and to take note how he would act at his departure. It was thus. As he seated himself, he held up his fist at our master and ourselves in insolent rage, and boldly

declared that he did not care for all of us put together. Mr. White put the key of the box into the driver's hands, charging him not to let the "young gentleman" have it, and then turned away, heaving a deep sigh-a sigh which was drawn forth, not by the fact that he had lost a pupil, but that that pupil had proved so incorrigible.

The name of the boy alluded to in the letter to Mr. Grainger as being expelled from his school on a previous occasion was Simon Sly, of pilfering notoriety.

Soon after Simon Sly appeared amongst us, our tops, marbles, and other portable playthings vanished by some process for which we could not account. Our cakes, also, however careful we were of them ourselves, rapidly diminished; and our little tokens of remembrance which we valued so highly, inasmuch as they served to remind us of our absent friends, were swept away. This gave us great concern, and before we divulged our losses to our master, we held many a grave consultation on the subject: Simon Sly taking his part in our debates, and that with a grave countenance.

One half holiday, in the expectation of full enjoyment, I went to my box for the purpose of bringing the last portion of my Christmas cake into the playground, in order to share it among some of my choicest companions, when, lo! it was all gone.

I was always celebrated for a long face, but on this occasion it was considerably lengthened; a circumstance which soon caught the quick eye

of Charles Murphy. "Do not speak, Philosopher," said Charles, "I know. I can read your countenance."

"Try," I replied, laconically.

"The last fragment of your sweet Christmas cake is gone!" answered Charles, as he assumed the attitude of an orator.

"You are right, Charles," I rejoined, "and what are we to do ?"

"Why, go without it, to be sure,” replied Charles, "and act like philosophers: laugh over our loss."

"Nay, Charles, seriously though," I exclaimed, my face still lengthening, "I think this is no laughing matter.'

"Then we must act the weeping philosopher, I suppose," said Charles, affecting a sorrowful countenance, "so let us form a ring and weep away. At the same time, I must say, I should much prefer the merry ring."

"I neither wish to laugh nor weep," I resumed, "but it is time to come to some decision on the subject of our losses, and discover the thief if we can."

"The if we can,' was well added," replied Charles; "but I am willing to make trial of my skill again; and mind, Philosopher, that I do not outshine you." Then, addressing himself to every one within hearing, he continued: "All you to whom it may concern, come, and debate on the subject of who steals our marbles, our tops, our cakes, and, in one word, our everything."

I believe there was not one boy absent from