Many of the boys were, unfortunately, too ignorant to feel the force of the quotation; but Mr. Owen ap Jones understood it, turned on his heel, and walked off.

Soon afterwards, he summoned Dominick to his awful desk; and pointing with his ruler to the following page in Harris' Hermes, bade him "reat it, and understant it," if he could. Little Dominick read, but could not understand.

"Then reat it aloud, you plockit." Dominick read aloud—

There is nothing appears so clearly an object of the mind or intellect only as the future does: since we can find no place for its existence anywhere else: not but the same, if we consider, is equally true of the past—."

"Well, co on- -What stops the plockit? Can't you reat Enclish now?"

"Yes, sir; but I was trying to understand it --I was considering, that this is like what they would call an Irish bull, if I had said it."

Little Dominick could not explain what he meant in English, that Mr. Owen ap Jones would understand; and to punish him for his impertinent observation, the boy was doomed to learn all that Harris and Lowth have written to explain the nature of shall and will.—The reader, if he be desirous of knowing the full extent of the penance enjoined, may consult Lowth's Grammar, p. 52, ed. 1799; and Harris' Hermes, p. 10, 11, and 12, fourth edition.

Undismayed at the length of his task, Little Dominick only said "I hope, if I say it all, without missing a word, you will not give my mother a bad account of me and my grammar studies, sir?"

"Say it all first, without missing a word, and then I shall see what I shall say," replied Mr. Owen ap Jones.

Even the encouragement of this oracular answer excited the boy's fond hopes so keenly, that he lent his little soul to the task; learned it perfectly; said it at night, without missing one word, to his friend Edwards; and said it the next morning, without missing one word, to his master.

"And now, sir," said the boy, looking up, "will you write to my mother?-And shall I see her? And shall I go home?"

"Tell me, first, whether you understand all this that you have learned so cliply?" said Mr. Owen ap Jones.

That was more than his bond. Our hero's countenance fell; and he acknowledged that he did not understand it perfectly.

"Then I cannot write a coot account of you and your crammer studies to your mother; my

conscience coes against it!" said the conscientious Mr. Owen ap Jones.

No entreaties could move him. Dominick never saw the letter that was written to his mother; but he felt the consequence. She wrote word, this time punctually by return of the post, that she was sorry she could not send for him home these holidays, as she had heard so bad an account from Mr. Owen ap Jones, &c., and as she thought it her duty not to interrupt the course of his education, especially his grammar studies.

Little Dominick heaved many a sigh when he saw the packings up of all his schoolfellows; and dropped a few tears as he looked out of the window, and saw them, one after another, get on their Welsh ponies, and gallop off towards their homes.

"I have no home to go to!" said he. "Yes, you have," cried Edwards; "and our horses are at the door, to carry us there."

"To Ireland? Me! the horses!" said the poor boy, quite bewildered.

"No; the horses cannot carry you to Ireland," said Edwards, laughing good-naturedly; "but you have a home, now, in England. I asked my father to let me bring you home with me; and he says "Yes," like a dear, good father, and has sent the horses-Come, let's away.

"But will Mr. Owen ap Jones let me go?" "Yes! he dare not refuse; for my father has a living in his gift, that Owen ap Jones wants, and which he will not have if he do not change his tune to you.”

Little Dominick could not speak one word, his heart was so full.

No boy could be happier than he was during these holidays: "the genial current of his soul," which had been frozen by unkindness, flowed with all its natural freedom and force.

Whatever his reasons might be, Mr. Owen ap Jones, from this time forward, was observed to change his manners towards his Irish pupil. He never more complained, unjustly, of his preaking Priscian's head; seldom called him Irish plockit; and once, would have flogged a Welsh boy for taking up this cast-off expression of the master's, but that the Irish blockhead begged the culprit off.

Dominick, now no longer little Dominick, went over to India, as private secretary to one of our commanders-in-chief. How he got into this situation, or by what gradations he rose in the world, we are not exactly informed; we know only that he was the reputed author of a much-admired pamphlet on India affairs; that the despatches of the general to whom he was secretary were remarkably well written; and that Dominick O'Reilly, Esq., returned to England, after several years' absence, not miraculously rich, but with a fortune equal to his wishes. His wishes were not extravagant: his utmost ambition was, to return to his native country with a fortune that should enable him to live independently of all the world; especially of some of his relations, who had not used him well. His mother was no more!

On his first arrival in London, one of the first things he did was to read the Irish newspapers. To his inexpressible joy he saw the estate of Fort-Reilly advertised to be sold the very estate which had formerly belonged to his own family. Away he posted, directly, to an attorney's in Cecil Street, who was empowered to dispose of the land.

When this attorney produced a map of the well-known demesne, and an elevation of that house in which he spent the happiest hours of his infancy, his heart was so touched, that he was on the point of paying down more for an old ruin than a good new house would cost. The attorney acted honestly by his client, and seized this moment to exhibit a plan of the stabling and offices; which, as sometimes is the case in Ireland, were in a style far superior to the dwelling-house. Our hero surveyed these with transport. He rapidly planned various improvements in imagination, and planted certain favourite spots in the demesne! During this time the attorney was giving directions to a clerk about some other business; suddenly the name of Owen ap Jones struck his ear. He started.

"Let him wait in the front parlour: his money is not forthcoming," said the attorney, "and if he keep Edwards in jail till he rots'

99

"Edwards! Good heavens!-in What Edwards?" exclaimed our hero. It was his friend Edwards!

pound, except a Welsh parson, who had been presented to his living by old Edwards; and that this Mr. Owen ap Jones had thrown young Mr. Edwards into jail for the debt.

"What is the rascal's demand? He shall be paid off this instant," cried Dominick, throwing down the plan of Fort-Reilly; "send for him up, and let me pay him off on this spot."

"Had we not best finish our business first, about the O'Reilly estate, sir?" said the attorney.

"No, sir; damn the O'Reilly estate!" cried he, huddling the maps together on the desk; and, taking up the bank-notes, which he had began to reckon for the purchase money-“I beg your pardon, sir-if you knew the facts, you would excuse me.-Why does not this rascal come up to be paid?"

The attorney, thunderstruck by this Hibernian impetuosity, had not yet found time to take his pen out of his mouth. As he sat transfixed in his arm-chair, O'Reilly ran to the head of the stairs, and called out, in a stentorian voice, “ Here, you Mr. Owen ap Jones; come up and be paid off this instant, or you shall never be paid at all."

Up-stairs hobbled the old schoolmaster, as fast as the gout and Welsh ale would let him -"Cot pless me, that voice?" he began"Where's your bond, sir?" said the attorney.

"Safe here, Cot be praised!" said the terrified Owen ap Jones, pulling out of his bosom first a blue pocket-handkerchief, and then a tattered Welsh grammar, which O'Reilly kicked to the farther end of the room.

"Here is my pond," said he, "in the crammer," which he gathered from the ground; then, fumbling over the leaves, he at length unfolded the precious deposit.

O'Reilly saw the bond, seized it, looked at the sum, paid it into the attorney's hands, tore the seal from the bond; then, without looking at old Owen ap Jones, whom he dared not trust himself to speak to, he clapped his hat on his head, and rushed out of the room. He was, however, obliged to come back again, to ask where Edwards was to be found. "In the King's Bench prison, sir," said the "But am I to understand," cried he, holding up the map of the O'Reilly estate, am I to understand that you have no further wish for this bargain?"

66

"Yes-No-I mean, you are to understand that I'm off," replied our hero, without looking back—“I'm off—That's plain English."

Arrived at the King's Bench prison, he hurried to the apartment where Edwards was confined-The bolts flew back; for even the turnkeys seemed to catch our hero's enthusiasm.

"Edwards, my dear boy! how do you do?Here's a bond debt, justly due to you for my education-0, never mind asking any unnecessary questions; only just make haste out of this undeserved abode-Our old rascal is paid off-Owen ap Jones you know-Well how the man stares?-Why, now, will you have the assurance to pretend to forget who I am? and must I spake," continued he, assuming the tone of his childhood-" and must I spake to you again in my old Irish brogue, before you will ricollict your own Little Dominick?"

When his friend Edwards was out of prison, and when our hero had leisure to look into the business, he returned to the attorney, to see that Mr. Owen ap Jones had been satisfied.

"Sir," said the attorney, "I have paid the plaintiff in this suit, and he is satisfied: but I must say," added he, with a contemptuous smile, "that you Irish gentlemen are rather in too great a hurry in doing business; business, sir, is a thing that must be done slowly, to be well done."

"I am ready now to do business as slowly as you please; but when my friend was in prison, I thought the quicker I did his business the better. Now tell me what mistake I have made, and I will rectify it instantly."

"Instantly! 'Tis well, sir, with your promptitude, that you have to deal with what prejudice thinks so very uncommon-an honest attorney. Here are some bank-notes of yours, s'r, amounting to a good round sum! You have made a little blunder in this business: you left me the penalty, instead of the principal, of the bond-just twice as much as you should have done."

"Just twice as much as was in the bond; but not twice as much as I should have done, nor half as much as I should have done, in my opinion!" said O'Reilly: "but whatever I did, it was with my eyes open. I was persuaded you were an honest man; in which, you see, I was not mistaken; and as a man of business, I knew that you would pay Mr. Owen ap Jones only his due. The remainder of the money I meant, and now mean, should lie in your hands for my friend Edwards' use. I feared he would not have taken it from my hands: I therefore left it in yours. To have taken my friend out of prison, merely to let him go back again today, for want of money to keep himself clear

with the world, would have been a blunder, indeed! but not an Irish blunder: our Irish blunders are never blunders of the heart!"

LAMENT FOR HER HUSBAND.

There was an eye whose partial glance
Could ne'er my numerous failings see,
There was an ear that still untired

Could listen to kind praise of me.
There was a heart Time only made

For me with fonder feelings burn; And which, whene'er, alas! I roved, Still long'd and pined for my return. There was a lip which always breathed E'en short farewells with tones of sadness; There was a voice, whose eager sound My welcome spoke with heartfelt gladness. There was a mind, whose vigorous powers On mine its fostering influence threw; And call'd my humble talents forth, . Till thence its dearest joys it drew. There was a love that oft for me

With anxious fears would overflow; And wept and pray'd for me, and sought From future ills to guard-but now That eye is closed, and deaf that ear,

That lip and voice are mute for ever! And cold that heart of faithful love, Which death alone from mine could sever!

And lost to me that ardent mind,

Which loved my various tasks to see; And oh! of all the praise I gain'd,

This was the dearest far to me!

Now I, unloved, uncheer'd, alone,

Life's dreary wilderness must tread,
Till He who loves the broken heart
In mercy bids me join the dead.

But, "Father of the fatherless,"

O! thou that hear'st the orphan's cry, And "dwellest with the contrite heart," As well as in "thy place on high!"

O Lord! though like a faded leaf

That's severed from its parent tree, I struggled down life's stormy tide,

That awful tide which leads to thee!

Still, Lord! to thee the voice of praise Shall spring triumphant from my breast, Since though I tread a weary way,

I trust that he I mourn is bless'd!

MRS OPIE

THE FAGS' REVOLT.1

[Thomas Hughes, born at Donnington Priory, Berks, 1823; educated at Rugby and Oxford; called to the bar

in 1848. He was returned to Parliament for Lambeth

in 1865, and for Frome in 1868. It was in the leisure of a busy life that he produced Tom Brown's School Days, Tom Brown at Oxford, The Scouring of the White Horse, &c. The first of these obtained immediate popularity, and had much influence in bringing about a reform of many abuses which prevailed at public schools during the author's school-days. The book is remarkable for its vigorous sketches of actual experiences.]

In no place in the world has individual character more weight than at a public school. Remember this, I beseech you, all you boys who are getting into the upper forms. Now is the time in all your lives, probably, when you may have more wide influence for good or evil on the society you live in than you ever can have again. Quit yourselves like men, then; speak up, and strike out if necessary, for whatsoever is true, and manly, and lovely, and of good report; never try to be popular, but only to do your duty and help others to do theirs, and you may leave the tone of feeling in the school higher than you found it, and so be doing good which no living soul can measure to generations of your countrymen yet unborn. For boys follow one another in herds like sheep, for good or evil; they hate thinking, and have rarely any settled principles. Every school, indeed, has its own traditionary standard of right and wrong, which cannot be transgressed with impunity, marking certain things as low and blackguard, and certain others as lawful and right. This standard is ever varying, though it changes only slowly and little by little; and, subject only to such standard, it is the leading boys for the time being who give the tone to all the rest, and make the school either a noble institution for the training of Christian Englishmen, or a place where a young boy will get more evil than he would if he were turned out to make his way in London streets, or anything between these two extremes.

The change for the worse in the school-house, however, didn't press very heavily on our youngsters for some time; they were in a good bedroom, where slept the only præpostor left who was able to keep thorough order, and their study was in his passage; so, though they were fagged more or less, and occasionally kicked or cuffed by the bullies, they were on the whole well off; and the fresh, brave school-life, so

1 From Tom Brown's School Days. By an Old Boy. London: Macmillan & Co.

full of games, adventures, and good-fellowship, so ready at forgetting, so capacious at enjoying, so bright at forecasting, outweighed a thousandfold their troubles with the master of their form and the occasional ill-usage of the big boys in the house. It wasn't till some year or so after the events already recorded that the præpostor of their room and passage left. None of the other sixth-form boys would move into their passage, and to the disgust and indignation of Tom and East, one morning after breakfast they were seized upon by Flashman, and made to carry down his books and furniture into the unoccupied study which he had taken. From this time they began to feel the weight of the tyranny of Flashman and his friends, and now that trouble had come home to their own doors, began to look out for sympathizers and partners amongst the rest of the fags; and meetings of the oppressed began to be held, and murmurs to arise, and plots to be laid as to how they should free themselves and be avenged on their enemies.

While matters were in this state East and

Tom were one evening sitting in their study. They had done their work for first lesson, and Tom was in a brown study, brooding, like a young William Tell, upon the wrongs of fags in general, and his own in particular.

"I say, Scud," said he at last, rousing himself to snuff the candle, "what right have the fifth-form boys to fag us as they do?"

"No more right than you have to fag them," answered East, without looking up from an early number of Pickwick, which was just coming out, and which he was luxuriously devouring, stretched on his back on the sofa.

Tom relapsed into his brown study, and East went on reading and chuckling. The contrast of the boys' faces would have given infinite amusement to a looker-on, the one so solemn and big with mighty purpose, the other radiant and bubbling over with fun.

"Do you know, old fellow, I've been thinking it over a good deal," began Tom again.

"Oh yes, I know, fagging you are thinking of. Hang it all, but listen here, Tomhere's fun. Mr. Winkle's horse-"

"And I've made up my mind," broke in Tom, "that I won't fag except for the sixth.”

putting his finger on the place and looking up; "Quite right too, my boy," cried East, "but a pretty peek of troubles you'll get into, if you're going to play that game. However, I'm all for a strike myself, if we can get others to join-it's getting too bad."

"Can't we get some sixth-form fellow to take it up?" asked Tom.

Why, yes, you see, then the strongest and best fellows were in the sixth, and the fifthform fellows were afraid of them, and they kept good order; but now our sixth-form fellows are too small, and the fifth don't care for them, and do what they like in the house."

"And so we get a double set of masters," | cried Tom, indignantly; "the lawful ones, who are responsible to the Doctor at any rate, and the unlawful-the tyrants, who are responsible to nobody."

"Down with the tyrants!" cried East; "I'm all for law and order, and hurra for a revolution."

"I shouldn't mind if it were only for young Brooke now," said Tom, "he's such a goodhearted, gentlemanly fellow, and ought to be in the sixth-I'd do anything for him. But that blackguard Flashman, who never speaks to one without a kick or an oath—”

"The cowardly brute," broke in East, "how I hate him! And he knows it too, he knows that you and I think him a coward. What a bore that he's got a study in this passage! Don't you hear them now at supper in his den? Brandy punch going, I'll bet. I wish the Doctor would come out and catch him. We must change our study as soon as we can." 'Change or no change, I'll never fag for him again," said Tom, thumping the table.

"Fa-a-a-ag!" sounded along the passage from Flashman's study. The two boys looked at one another in silence. It had struck nine, so the regular night-fags had left duty, and they were the nearest to the supper-party. East sat up, and began to look comical, as he always did under difficulties.

Fa-a-a-ag!" again. No answer. "Here, Brown! East! you cursed young skulks," roared out Flashman, coming to his open door, "I know you're in-no shirking." Tom stole to their door, and drew the bolts as noiselessly as he could; East blew out the candle.

Then came summonses to open, which being unanswered, the assault commenced; luckily the door was a good strong oak one, and resisted the united weight of Flashman's party. A pause followed, and they heard a besieger remark, "They're in safe enough-don't you see how the door holds at top and bottom? so the bolts must be drawn. We should have forced the lock long ago.' East gave Tom a nudge, to call attention to this scientific remark.

Then came attacks on particular panels, one of which at last gave way to the repeated kicks: but it broke inwards, and the broken piece got jammed across, the door being lined with green baize, and couldn't easily be removed from outside; and the besieged, scorning further concealment, strengthened their defences by pressing the end of their sofa against the door. So, after one or two more ineffectual efforts, Flashman & Co. retired, vowing vengeance in no mild terms.

The first danger over, it only remained for the besieged to effect a safe retreat, as it was now near bedtime. They listened intently and heard the supper-party resettle themselves, and then gently drew back first one bolt and then the other. Presently the convivial noises began again steadily. "Now then, stand by for a run," said East, throwing the door wide open and rushing into the passage, closely followed by Tom. They were too quick to be caught, but Flashman was on the lookout, and sent an empty pickle-jar whizzing after them, which narrowly missed Tom's head, and broke into twenty pieces at the end of the passage.

He wouldn't mind killing one, if he wasn't caught," said East, as they turned the corner.

"That'll never do-don't you remember the

In another minute they heard the supperparty turn out and come down the passage to

In fact, that solemn assembly, a levy of the school, had been held, at which the captain of the school had got up, and, after premising