BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD. 

[Illustration: "The whole crowd then precipitated themselves upon him, and proceeded to pummel any part of his body they could reach. "--_Page165. _

_Frontispiece. _]

BERT LLOYD'S BOYHOOD

A Story from Nova Scotia

BY

J. MACDONALD OXLEY, LL. D. 

_WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. FINNEMORE_

London

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

27, PATERNOSTER ROW

MDCCCXCII. 

 EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY LORIMER AND GILLIES. 31 ST. ANDREW SQUARE. 

PREFACE. 

There is something so pleasing to the author of this volume--the firstof several which have been kindly received by his American cousins--inthe thought of being accorded the privilege of appearing before a newaudience in the "old home, " that the impulse to indulge in a foreword ortwo cannot be withstood. 

And yet, after all, there would seem to be but two things necessary tobe said:--Firstly, that in attempting a picture of boy life in NovaScotia a fifth of a century ago, the writer had simply to fall back uponthe recollections of his own school-days, and that in so doing he hasstriven to depart as slightly as possible from what came within therange of personal experience; and, Secondly, while it is no doubt to beregretted that Canada has not yet attained that stage of developmentwhich would enable her to support a literature of her own, it certainlyis no small consolation for her children, however ardent theirpatriotism, who would fain enter the literary arena, that not onlyacross the Border, but beyond the ocean in the Motherland, there aredoors of opportunity standing open through which they may find their waybefore the greatest and kindliest audience in the world. 

 J. MACDONALD OXLEY. 

 OTTAWA, CANADA, _29th August, 1892_. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. BERT IS INTRODUCED, 5

 II. FIREMAN OR SOLDIER, 11

 III. NO. FIVE FORT STREET, 17

 IV. OFF TO THE COUNTRY, 21

 V. THE RIDE IN THE COACH, 29

 VI. AT GRANDFATHER'S, 39

 VII. COUNTRY EXPERIENCES, 47

 VIII. TEMPTATION AND TRIUMPH, 57

 IX. LOST AND FOUND, 67

 X. BERT GOES TO SCHOOL, 81

 XI. SCHOOL LIFE AT MR. GARRISON'S, 93

 XII. A QUESTION OF INFLUENCE, 107

 XIII. BERT AT HOME, 117

 XIV. AN HONOURABLE SCAR, 127

 XV. A CHANGE OF SCHOOL, 139

 XVI. THE FIRST DAYS AT DR. JOHNSTON'S, 151

 XVII. THE HOISTING, 163

 XVIII. SCHOOL EXPERIENCES, 175

 XIX. VICTORY AND DEFEAT, 187

 XX. A NARROW ESCAPE, 203

 XXI. LEARNING TO SWIM, 217

 XXII. HOW HOISTING WAS ABOLISHED, 227

 XXIII. PRIZE WINNING AND LOSING, 239

 XXIV. A CHAPTER ON PONIES, 253

 XXV. ABOUT TWO KINDS OF PONIES, 263

 XXVI. VICTORY WON FROM DEFEAT, 273

 XXVII. ABOUT LITERATURE AND LAW, 287

 XXVIII. WELL DONE, BOYS! 301

 XXIX. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW, 315

 XXX. HOME MISSIONARY WORK, 325

 XXXI. NOT DEAD, BUT TRANSLATED, 335

 XXXII. A BOY NO LONGER, 349

CHAPTER I. 

BERT IS INTRODUCED. 

If Cuthbert Lloyd had been born in the time of our great grandfathers, instead of a little later than the first half of the present century, the gossips would assuredly have declared that the good fairies had hadit all their own way at his birth. 

To begin with, he was a particularly fine handsome baby; for did not allthe friends of the family say so? In the second place, he was an onlyson, which meant that he had no big brothers to bully him. Next, hisbirthplace was the stirring seaport of Halifax, where a sturdy, energetic boy, such as Cuthbert certainly gave good promise of being, need never lack for fun or adventure. Finally, he had plenty ofrelations in the country to whom he might go in the summer time to learnthe secrets and delights of country life. 

Now, when to all these advantages are added two fond but sensibleparents in comfortable circumstances, an elder sister who loved littleCuthbert with the whole strength of her warm unselfish heart, and apleasant home in the best part of the city, they surely make us as finea list of blessings as the most benevolent fairy godmother couldreasonably have been expected to bestow. 

And yet there was nothing about Master Cuthbert's early conduct toindicate that he properly appreciated his good fortune. He was not halfas well-behaved a baby, for instance, as red-headed little Patsey Shea, who, a few days after his first appearance, brought another hungry mouthto the already over-populated cottage of the milkwoman down inHardhand's lane. As he grew older, it needed more whippings than the sumtotal of his own chubby fingers and toes to instil into him a properunderstanding of parental authority. Sometimes his mother, who was aslight small woman, stronger of mind than of body, would feel downrightdiscouraged about her vigorous, wilful boy, and wonder, half-despairingly, if she were really equal to the task of bringing himup in the way he should go. 

Cuthbert was in many respects an odd mixture. His mother often said thathe seemed more like two boys of opposite natures rolled into one, thanjust one ordinary boy. When quite a little chap, he would at one time beas full of noise, action, and enterprise as the captain of an oceansteamer in a gale, and at another time be as sedate, thoughtful, andabsentminded as the ancient philosopher who made himself famous bywalking into a well in broad daylight. 

Cuthbert, in fact, at the age of three, attracted attention to himselfin a somewhat similar way. His mother had taken him with her in makingsome calls, and at Mrs. Allen's, in one of his thoughtful moods, withhis hands clasped behind him, he went wandering off unobserved. Presently he startled the whole household by tumbling from the top tothe bottom of the kitchen stairs, having calmly walked over the edge inan absorbed study of his surroundings. 

The other side of his nature was brilliantly illustrated a year later. Being invited to spend the day with a playmate of his own age, he builta big fire with newspapers in the bath room, turned on all the taps, pretending that they were the hydrants, and then ran through the hall, banging a dustpan and shouting "fire" at the top of his voice. 

"He is such a perfect 'pickle, ' I hardly know what to do with him, Robert, " said Mrs. Lloyd to her husband, with a big sigh, one evening atdinner. 

"Don't worry, my dear, don't worry. He has more than the usual amount ofanimal spirits, that is all. Keep a firm hand on him and he'll come outall right, " answered Mr. Lloyd, cheeringly. 

"It's easy enough to say, 'Keep a firm hand on him, ' Robert, but my handgets pretty tired sometimes, I can assure you. I just wish you'd stay athome for a week and look after Bert, while I go to the office in yourplace. You'd get a better idea of what your son is like than you can byseeing him for a little while in the morning and evening. "

"Thank you, Kate, I've no doubt you might manage to do my work at theoffice, and that my clients would think your advice very good; but I'mno less sure that I would be a dismal failure in doing your work athome, " responded Mr. Lloyd, with a smile, adding, more seriously:"Anyway, I have too much faith in your ability to make the best of Bertto think of spoiling your good work by clumsy interference. "

"It's a great comfort to have you put so much faith in me, " said Mrs. Lloyd, with a grateful look, "for it's more than Bert does sometimes. Why, he told me only this morning that he thought I wasn't half as goodto him as Frankie Clayton's mother is to him, just because I wouldn'tlet him have the garden hose to play fireman with. "

"Just wait until he's fifteen, my dear, " returned Mr. Lloyd, "and if hedoesn't think then that he has one of the best mothers in the world, why--I'll never again venture to prophesy, that's all. And here comes mylittle man to answer for himself, " as the door opened suddenly and Bertburst in, making straight for his father. "Ha! ha! my boy, so yourmother says you're a perfect pickle. Well, if you're only pickled in away that will save you from spoiling, I shall be satisfied, and I thinkyour mother may be, too. "

Mrs. Lloyd laughed heartily at the unexpected turn thus given to hercomplaint; and Bert, seeing both his parents in such good humour, addeda beaming face on his own account, although, of course, without havingthe slightest idea as to the cause of their merriment. 

Climbing up on his father's knee, Bert pressed a plump cheek lovinglyagainst the lawyer's brown whiskers and looked, what indeed he was, thepicture of happy content. 

"What sort of a man are you going to make, Bert?" asked Mr. Lloyd, quizzingly, the previous conversation being still in his mind. 

"I'm going to be a fireman, " replied Bert, promptly; "and Frankie'sgoing to be one too. "

"And why do you want to be a fireman, Bert?"

"Oh, because they wear such grand clothes and can make such a noisewithout anybody telling them to shut up, " answered Bert, whose knowledgeof firemen was based upon a torchlight procession of them he had seenone night, and their management of a fire that had not long before takenplace in the near neighbourhood, and of which he was a breathlessspectator. 

Mr. Lloyd could not resist laughing at his son's naive reply, but therewas no ridicule in his laugh, as Bert saw clearly enough, and he wasencouraged to add:

"Oh, father, please let me be a fireman, won't you?"

"We'll see about it, Bert. If we can't find anything better for you todo than being a fireman, why we'll try to make a good fireman of you, that's all. But never mind about that now; tell me what was the best funyou had to-day. " Thus invited, Bert proceeded to tell after his ownfashion the doings of the day, with his father and mother an attentiveaudience. 

It was their policy to always manifest a deep interest in everythingBert had to tell, and in this way they made him understand betterperhaps than they could otherwise have done how thoroughly theysympathised with him in both the joys and sorrows of his little life. They were determined that the most complete confidence should beestablished between them and their only boy at the start, and Bert neverappeared to such advantage as when, with eyes flashing and graphicgestures, he would tell about something wonderful in his eyes that hadhappened to him that afternoon. 

By the time Bert had exhausted his budget and been rewarded with a lumpof white sugar, the nurse appeared with the summons to bed, and aftersome slight demur he went off in good humour, his father saying, as thedoor closed upon him:

"There's not a better youngster of his age in Halifax, Kate, even if hehasn't at present any higher ambition than to be a fireman. "

CHAPTER II. 

FIREMAN OR SOLDIER. 

Halifax has already been mentioned as a particularly pleasant place fora boy to be born in; and so indeed it is. Every schoolboy knows, orought to know, that it is the capital of Acadia, one of the MaritimeProvinces of the Dominion of Canada. It has a great many advantages, some of which are not shared by any other city on the continent. Situated right on the sea coast, it boasts a magnificent harbour, inwhich all the war vessels of the world, from the mightiest iron-clad tothe tiniest torpedo boat, might lie at anchor. Beyond the harbour, separated from it by only a short strait, well-named the "Narrows, " isan immense basin that seems just designed for yachting and excursions;while branching out from the harbour in different directions are twolovely fiords, one called the Eastern Passage, leading out to the oceanagain, and the other running away up into the land, so that there is nolack of salt water from which cool breezes may blow on the torrid days. 

The city itself is built upon the peninsula that divides the harbourfrom the north-west arm, and beginning about half-a-mile from the pointof the peninsula, runs northward almost to the Narrows, and spreads outwestward until its farthest edge touches the shore of the arm. The"Point" has been wisely set aside for a public park, and except where afort or two, built to command the entrance to the harbour, intrudes uponit, the forest of spruce and fir with its labyrinth of roads and pathsand frequent glades of soft waving grass, extends from shore to shore, making a wilderness that a boy's imagination may easily people withIndians brandishing tomahawk and scalping knife, or bears and wolvesseeking whom they may devour. 

Halifax being the chief military and naval station for the BritishColonies in America, its forts and barracks are filled with red-coatedinfantry or blue-coated artillery the whole year round. All summer longgreat iron-clads bring their imposing bulks to anchor off the Dockyard, and Jack Tars in foolish, merry, and alas! too often vicious companies, swagger through the streets in noisy enjoyment of their day on shore. 

On either side of the harbour, on the little island which rests like anemerald brooch upon its bosom, and high above the city on the crown ofthe hill up which it wearily climbs, street beyond street, standfrowning fortresses with mighty guns thrusting their black muzzlesthrough the granite embrasures. In fact, the whole place is pervaded bythe influences of military life; and Cuthbert, whose home overlooked adisused fort, now serving the rather ignoble purpose of a dwelling-placefor married soldiers, was at first fully persuaded in his mind that thedesire of his life was to be a soldier; and it was not until he went toa military review, and realised that the soldiers had to stand upawfully stiff and straight, and dare not open their mouths for theworld, that he dismissed the idea of being a soldier, and adopted thatof being a fireman. 

Yet there were times when he rather regretted his decision, and inclinedto waver in his allegiance. His going to the Sunday school with hissister had something to do with this. A favourite hymn with thesuperintendent--who, by the way, was a retired officer--was--

 "Onward, Christian soldiers. "

The bright stirring tune, and the tremendous vigour with which thescholars sang it, quite took Cuthbert's heart. He listened eagerly, butthe only words he caught were the first, which they repeated so often:

 "Onward, Christian soldiers. "

Walking home with his sister, they met a small detachment of soldiers, looking very fine in their Sunday uniforms:

"Are those Christian soldiers, Mary?" he asked, looking eagerly up intoher face. 

"Perhaps so, Bert, I don't know, " Mary replied. "What makes you ask?"

"Because we were singing about Christian soldiers, weren't we?" answeredBert. 

"Oh! is that what you mean, Bert? They may be, for all I know. Would youlike to be a Christian soldier?"

"Yes, " doubtfully; then, brightening up--"but couldn't I be a Christianfireman, too?"

"Of course you could, Bert, but I'd much rather see you a Christiansoldier. Mr. Hamilton is a Christian soldier, you know. "

This reply of his sister's set Bert's little brain at work. Mr. Hamilton, the superintendent of the Sunday school, was a tall, erecthandsome man, with fine grey hair and whiskers, altogether an impressivegentleman; yet he had a most winning manner, and Bert was won to him atonce when he was welcomed by him warmly to the school. Bert could notimagine anything grander than to be a Christian soldier, if it meantbeing like Mr. Hamilton. Still the fireman notion had too manyattractions to be lightly thrown aside, and consequently for some timeto come he could hardly be said to know his own mind as to his future. 

The presence of the military in Halifax was far from being an unmixedgood. Of course, it helped business, gave employment to many hands, imparted peculiar life and colour to society, and added many excellentcitizens to the population. At the same time it had very markeddrawbacks. There was always a great deal of drunkenness and otherdissipation among the soldiers and sailors. The officers were not themost improving of companions and models for the young men of the place, and in other ways the city was the worse for their presence. 

Mrs. Lloyd presently found the soldiers a source of danger to her boy. Just around the corner at the entrance to the old fort, alreadymentioned, was a guardhouse, and here some half-dozen soldiers werestationed day and night. They were usually jolly fellows, who were gladto get hold of little boys to play with, and thereby help to while awaythe time in their monotonous life. Cuthbert soon discovered theattractions of this guardhouse, and, in spite of commands to thecontrary, which he seemed unable to remember, wandered off thither veryoften. All the other little boys in the neighbourhood went therewhenever they liked, and he could not understand why he should not do sotoo. He did not really mean to defy his parents. He was too young forthat, being only six years old. But the force of the example of hisplaymates seemed stronger than the known wishes of his parents, and sohe disobeyed them again and again. 

Mrs. Lloyd might, of course, have carried her point by shutting Bert upin the yard, and not allowing him out at all except in charge ofsomebody. But that was precisely what she did not wish to do. She knewwell enough that her son could not have a locked-up world to live in. Hemust learn to live in this world, full of temptations as it is, and soher idea was not so much to put him out of the way of temptation, as toteach him how to withstand it. Consequently, she was somewhat at a lossjust what to do in the matter of the guardhouse, when a letter that camefrom the country offered a very timely and acceptable solution of thedifficulty. 

CHAPTER III. 

NO. FIVE FORT STREET. 

Cuthbert Lloyd's home was a happy one in every way. The house was sosituated that the sunshine might have free play upon it all day, pouringin at the back windows in the morning and flooding the front ones withrich and rare splendour at evening. A quiet little street passed by thedoor, the gardens opposite being filled with noble trees that cast agrateful shade during the dog days. At the back of the house was the oldfort, its turfed casemates sloping down to a sandy beach, from whosecentre a stone wharf projected out into the plashing water. Looking overthe casemates, one could see clear out to the lighthouse which keptwatch at the entrance to the harbour, and could follow the ships as theyrose slowly on the horizon or sped away with favouring breeze. 

A right pleasant house to live in was No. Five Fort Street, and rightpleasant were the people who lived in it. Cuthbert certainly had nodoubt upon either point, and who had a better opportunity of forming anopinion? Mr. Lloyd, the head of the household, was also the head of oneof the leading legal firms in Halifax. His son, and perhaps his wife anddaughter, too, thought him the finest-looking man in the city. That wasno doubt an extravagant estimate, yet it was not without excuse; fortall, erect, and stalwart, with regular features, large brown eyes thatlooked straight at you, fine whiskers and moustache, and a kindlycordial expression, Mr. Lloyd made a very good appearance in the world. Especially did he, since he never forgot the neatness and good taste indress of his bachelor days, as so many married men are apt to do. 

Cuthbert's mother was of quite a different type. Her husband used tojoke her about her being good for a standard of measurement because shestood just five feet in height, and weighed precisely one hundredpounds. Bert, one day, seemed to realise what a mite of a woman she was;for, after looking her all over, he said, very gravely:

"What a little mother you are! I will soon be as big as you, won't I?"

Brown of hair and eyes, like Mr. Lloyd, her face was a rare combinationof sweetness and strength. Bert thought it lovelier than any angel's hehad ever seen in a picture. Indeed, there was much of the angelic in hismother's nature. She had marvellous control over her feelings, and neverby any chance gave way to temper openly, so that in all his young lifeher boy had no remembrance of receiving from her a harsh word, or ahasty, angry blow. Not that she was weak or indulgent. On the contrary, not only Bert, but Bert's playmates, and some of their mothers, too, thought her quite too strict at times, for she was a firm believer indiscipline, and Master Bert was taught to abide by rules from theoutset. 

The third member of the household was the only daughter, Mary, a tall, graceful girl, who had inherited many of her father's qualities, together with her mother's sweetness. In Bert's eyes she was just simplyperfect. She was twice as old as he when he had six years to his credit, and the difference in age made her seem like a second mother to him, except that he felt free to take more liberties with her than with hismother. But she did not mind this much, for she was passionately fond ofher little brother, and was inclined to spoil him, if anything. 

As for Bert himself--well, he was just a stout, sturdy, hearty boy, withnothing very remarkable about him, unless, perhaps, it was hissuperabundant health and spirits. Nobody, unless it was that mostpartial judge, Mary, thought him handsome, but everybody admitted thathe was good-looking in every sense of the term. He promised to beneither tall, like his father, nor short, like his mother, but of ahandy, serviceable medium height, with plenty of strength and endurancein his tough little frame. Not only were both eyes and hair brown, asmight be expected, but his face, too, as might also be expected, seeingthat no bounds were placed upon his being out of doors, so long as theday was fine, and he himself was keeping out of mischief. 

Father, mother, daughter, and son, these four made up a veryaffectionate and happy family, pulling well together; and, so far as thethree older ones were concerned, with their faces and hearts set towardJerusalem, and of one mind as to taking Bert along with them. Mr. Lloydand his wife were thoroughly in accord with Dr. Austin Phelps as tothis:--That the children of Christians should be Christian from thecradle. They accordingly saw no reason why the only son that God hadgiven them should ever go out into sin, and then be brought back from afar off land. Surely, if they did their duty, he need never stray faraway. That was the way they reasoned; and although, of course, littleBert knew nothing about it, that was the plan upon which they sought tobring him up. The task was not altogether an easy one, as succeedingchapters of Bert's history will make plain. But the plan was adhered to, and the result justified its wisdom. 

CHAPTER IV. 

OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 

The letter which came in such good time to relieve Mrs. Lloyd from thedifficulty about Bert's fondness for the guardroom and its hurtfulinfluences, was from her father, and contained an invitation so pressingas to be little short of a demand, for her to pay him a long visit atthe old homestead, bringing Bert with her. 

Mrs. Lloyd very readily and gladly accepted the invitation. Midsummerwas near at hand. She had not visited her old home for some years. Herfather and mother were ageing fast; and then, naturally enough, she waseager to show them what a fine boy Bert was growing to be. 

When Bert heard of it he showed the utmost delight. Three years before, he had spent a summer at grandfather's; but, then, of course, he was tooyoung to do more than be impressed by the novelty of his surroundings. The huge oxen, the noisy pigs, the spirited horses, even the clumsylittle calves, bewildered, if they did not alarm him. But now he feltold enough to enjoy them all; and the very idea of going back to themfilled him with joy, to which he gave expression after his ownboisterous fashion. 

"Mother, are we going to grandfather's to-morrow?" he would eagerly ask, day after day, his little heart throbbing with impatience. 

"We're going soon, Bert dear. You must be patient, you know, " his motherwould gently reply; and the little fellow would make a very heroiceffort to control himself. 

At length the day of departure arrived. Too full of importance and greatexpectations to manifest a proper amount of sorrow at leaving his fatherand sister, who felt very reluctant, indeed, to part with him, MasterBert took his place in the cab and drove up to the railway station. Hardly had he entered it than he made a dash for the train, climbed upon the rear platform with the agility of a monkey, much to the amusementof the conductor, whose proffer of assistance he entirely ignored; andwhen Mr. Lloyd entered the train a minute later, he found hisenterprising son seated comfortably upon a central seat, and evidentlyquite ready for the train to start. 

"Would you go away without saying good-bye to your father and to Mary?"asked Mr. Lloyd, in a deeply reproachful tone. 

Bert blushed violently on being thus reminded of his apparentselfishness and, with the threat of a tear in his eye, was about tomake some sort of a defence, when his father put him all right again bysaying brightly:

"Never mind, my boy. It isn't every day you go off on ahundred-and-fifty-miles' journey. Mary and I will forgive you forforgetting us this time, won't we, Mary?"

The lunch basket, the wraps, and their other belongings were placed onthe seat, the engine whistled, "all aboard, " the bell rang, theconductor shouted, affectionate farewells were hastily exchanged, andpresently the train rolled noisily out of the dark station into thebright sunshine; and Bert, leaning from the window, caught a lastglimpse of his father and sister as they stood waving the handkerchiefswhich one of them, at least, could not refrain from putting to anotheruse, as the last car swept round the turn and vanished. 

But Bert was in no mood for tears. In fact, he never felt less likeanything of the kind. He felt much more disposed to shout aloud for veryjoy, and probably would have done so, but for the restraining influenceexercised by the presence of the other passengers, of whom there were agood many in the carriage. As it was, he gave vent to his excitedfeelings by being as restless as a mosquito, and asking his mother asmany questions as his active brain could invent. 

"You'll be tired out by mid-day, Bert, if you go on at this rate, " saidhis mother, in gentle warning. 

"Oh, no, I won't, mother; I won't get tired. See! What's that funny bigthing with the long legs in that field?"

"That's a frame for a hay stack, I think. You'll see plenty of those atgrandfather's. "

"And what's that queer thing with arms sticking out from that building?"

"That's a wind-mill. When the wind blows hard those arms go round, andturn machinery inside the barn. "

"And has grandpapa got a wind-mill, mother?"

"Yes; he has one on his big barn. "

"Oh, I'm so glad; I can watch it going round, and stand quite close, can't I?"

"Yes, but take care not to go too close to the machinery. It might hurtyou very much, you know. "

And so it went on all through the morning. Mrs. Lloyd would have likedvery much to read a little in an interesting book she had brought withher, but what with watching Bert's restless movements, and answering hisincessant questions, there seemed slight hope of her succeeding in thisuntil, after they had been a couple of hours on their journey, agood-natured gentleman on the opposite seat, who had finished his paper, and had nothing particular to do, took in the situation and came to herrelief. 

"Won't you come over and keep me company for a while, my little man?" hesaid, pleasantly, leaning across the seat. "I will try and answer allyour questions for you. "

Bert looked curiously at the speaker, and then, the inspection provingsatisfactory, inquiringly at his mother. She nodded her assent, soforthwith he ran over to his new friend, and climbed up beside him. Hewas given the corner next the window, and while his bright eyes took ineverything as the train sped on, his tongue wagged no less swiftly asquestion followed question in quick succession. Mrs. Lloyd, thoroughlyat ease now, returned to her book with a grateful sigh of relief, and anhour slipped away, at the end of which Bert's eyes grew heavy withsleep. He no longer was interested in the scenery; and at last, after agallant struggle, his curly head fell over on the cushion, and he wentinto a deep sleep, from which he did not waken until at mid-day thetrain drew up at the station, beyond which they could not go by rail. 

"Come, Bert, wake up! We must get out here, " cried his mother, shakinghim vigorously. 

Rubbing his eyes hard, yawning as though he would put his jaws out ofjoint, and feeling very uncomfortable generally, Bert neverthelessmanaged to pull himself together sufficiently to thank the gentleman whohad been so kind to him, before he followed his mother out of the car. 

They had dinner at Thurso, and by the time it was ready Bert was readytoo. He had been altogether too much excited at breakfast time to eatmuch then, but he made up for it now. Mrs. Lloyd laughed as he askedagain and again for more, but she did not check him. She knew very wellthat the contented frame of mind produced by a good dinner was just theright thing with which to enter upon the second part of their journey. This was to be by coach, and as even the best of coaches is a prettycramped sort of an affair unless you have it all to yourself, thequieter Bert was disposed to be the better for all concerned. 

"What are we to ride in now, mother?" asked Bert, after the vacancyunderneath his blue blouse had been sufficiently filled to dispose himto conversation. 

"In a big red coach, dear, with six fine horses to draw us, " answeredMrs. Lloyd. 

"Oh, mother, won't that be splendid? And may I sit up with the driver?"

"Perhaps you may, for a little while, anyway, if he will let you. "

"Hooray!" cried Bert, clapping his hands with delight; "I'm sure thedriver will let me, if you'll only ask him. You will, won't you, mother?"

"Yes, I will, after we get out of the town. But you must wait until Ithink it's the right time to ask him. "

"I'll wait, mother, but don't you forget. "

Forget! There was much likelihood of Mrs. Lloyd forgetting with thislively young monkey before her as a constant reminder. 

They had just finished dinner, when, with clatter of hoofs, rattle ofsprings, and crush of gravel under the heavy wheels, the great Concordcoach drew up before the hotel door in dashing style. 

Bert was one of the first to greet it. He did not even wait to put onhis hat, and his mother, following with it, found him in the forefrontof the crowd that always gathers about the mail coach in a country town, gazing up at the driver, who sat in superb dignity upon his lofty seat, as though he had never beheld so exalted a being in his life before. 

There was something so impassive, so indifferent to his surroundings, about this big, bronzed, black-moustached, and broad-hatted driver, thatpoor Bert's heart sank within him. He felt perfectly sure that _he_could never in the world muster up sufficient courage to beg for theprivilege of a seat beside so impressive a potentate, and he doubted ifhis mother could, either. 

Among the passengers Bert was glad to see the gentleman who hadbefriended him on the train, and when this individual, after having theaudacity to hail the driver familiarly with, "Good-morning, Jack; looksas if we were going to have a pleasant trip down, " sprang up on thewheel, and thence to the vacant place beside Jack Davis, just as thoughit belonged to him of right, a ray of hope stole into Bert's heart. Ifhis friend of the train, whose name, by the way, he told Bert, was Mr. Miller, was on such good terms with the driver, perhaps he would ask himto let a little boy sit up in front for a while. 

Taking much comfort from this thought, Bert, at a call from his mother, who was already seated, climbed up into the coach, and being allowed thecorner next the window, with head thrust forth as far as was safe heawaited eagerly the signal to start. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE RIDE IN THE COACH. 

The last passenger had taken his seat, the last trunk been strapped onbehind, and the canvas covering drawn tightly over it, the mail bagssafely stowed away in the capacious boot; and then big Jack Davis, gathering the reins of his six impatient steeds skilfully into one hand, and grasping the long-lashed whip in the other, sang out to the men whostood at the leaders' heads:

"Let them go!"

The men dropped the bridles and sprang aside, the long lash cracked likea pistol shot, the leaders, a beautiful pair of grey ponies, perfectlymatched, reared, curvetted, pranced about, and then would have dashedoff at a wild gallop had not Jack Davis' strong hands, aided by thesteadiness of the staider wheelers, kept them in check: and soon broughtdown to a spirited canter, they led the way out of the town. 

The coach had a heavy load. It could hold twelve passengers inside, andevery seat was occupied on top. Besides Mr. Miller, who had the covetedbox seat, there were two other men perched upon the coach top, andmaking the best of their uncomfortable position; and there was an extraamount of baggage. 

"Plenty of work for my horses to-day, Mr. Miller, " said Jack Davis, looking carefully over the harnessing to make sure that every strap wassecurely buckled, and every part in its right place. 

"Yes, indeed; you'll need to keep the brake on hard going down thehills, " replied Mr. Miller. 

Bending over, so that those behind could not hear him, the driver said, under his breath:

"Don't say anything; but, to tell the truth, I'm a little shaky about mybrake. It is none too strong, and I won't go out with it again untilit's fixed; but it can't be mended this side of Riverton, and I'm goingto push through as best I can. "

"Well, if anything happens, just let us know when to jump, " returned Mr. Miller, with a reassuring smile, for he felt no anxiety, having perfectconfidence in Davis' ability to bring his coach safely to the journey'send. 

It was a lovely summer day, and in the early afternoon the coach bowledsmoothly along over the well-kept road, now rolling over a wooden bridgeon whose timbers the rapid tramp of the horses' feet sounded likethunder, climbing the slope on the other side, then rattling down intothe valley, and up the opposite hill, almost at full speed, and so on inrapid succession. Bert, kneeling at the window, with arms resting onthe ledge, and just able to see the three horses on his side, was soengrossed in watching them, or peering into the forest through which theroad cut its way, that he quite forgot his desire to be up on top of thecoach. 

Having gone fifteen miles at a spanking pace, the coach drove into along--covered barn for the horses to be changed, and everybody got outto stretch their legs; while this was being done, Bert's longing cameback in full force. As he stood watching the tired foam-flecked horsesbeing led away, and others, sleek, shining, and spirited put in theirplaces, who should pass by but Mr. Miller. Recognising at once hislittle acquaintance of the morning, he greeted him with a cheery:

"Hallo! my little man, are we fellow-travellers still? And how do youlike riding in a coach?"

"I think it's just splendid, sir, " replied Bert; and then, as a brightthought flashed into his mind, --"but I do so want to be up where thedriver is. "

Mr. Miller looked down at the little face turned up to his, and notingits eager expression asked, kindly:

"Do you think your mother would let you go up there?"

"Oh, yes; she said I might if I would only wait a little, and it is agood deal more than a little while now. "

"Very well, Bert, you run and ask her if you may get up now, and I'lltry and manage it, " said Mr. Miller. 

Bert was not long in getting his mother's sanction, and when he returnedwith beaming face, Mr. Miller taking him up to Jack Davis, said:

"Jack, this little chap is dying to sit up with us. He wants to see howthe best driver in Acadia handles his horses, I suppose. "

There was no resisting such an appeal as this. Tickled with thecompliment, Jack said, graciously:

"All right, Mr. Miller, you can chuck him up, so long as you'll lookafter him yourself. "

And so when the fresh horses were harnessed, and the passengers back intheir places, behold Cuthbert Lloyd, the proudest, happiest boy in allthe land, perched up between the driver and Mr. Miller, feeling himselfas much monarch of all he surveyed, as ever did Robinson Crusoe in hisisland home. It was little wonder if for the first mile or two he wastoo happy to ask any questions. It was quite enough from his lofty, butsecure position, to watch the movements of the six handsome horsesbeneath him as, tossing their heads, and making feigned nips at oneanother, they trotted along with the heavy coach as though it were amere trifle. The road ran through a very pretty district;well-cultivated farms, making frequent gaps in the forest, and many abrook and river lending variety to the scene. After Bert had grownaccustomed to the novelty of his position, his tongue began to wagagain, and his bright, innocent questions afforded Mr. Miller so muchamusement, that with Jack Davis' full approval, he was invited to remainduring the next stage also. Mrs. Lloyd would rather have had him withher inside, but he pleaded so earnestly, and Mr. Miller assuring herthat he was not the least trouble, she finally consented to his stayingup until they changed horses again. 

When they were changing horses at this post, Mr. Miller drew Bert'sattention to a powerful black horse one of the men was carefully leadingout of the stable. All the other horses came from their stalls fullyharnessed, but this one had on nothing except a bridle. 

"See how that horse carries on, Bert, " said Mr. Miller. 

And, sure enough, the big brute was prancing about with ears bent backand teeth showing in a most threatening fashion. 

"They daren't harness that horse until he is in his place beside thepole, Bert. See, now, they're going to put the harness on him. "

And as he spoke another stable hand came up, deftly threw the heavyharness over the horse's back, and set to work to buckle it with a speedthat showed it was a job he did not care to dally over. No sooner was itaccomplished than the other horses were hastily put in their places, theblack wheeler in the meantime tramping upon the barn floor in a seemingfrenzy of impatience, although his head was tightly held. 

"Now, then, 'all aboard' as quick as you can, " shouted Jack Davis, swinging himself into his seat. Mr. Miller handed up Bert and followedhimself, the inside passengers scrambled hurriedly in, and then with asharp whinny the black wheeler, his head being released, started off, almost pulling the whole load himself. 

"Black Rory does not seem to get over his bad habits, Jack, " remarkedMr. Miller. 

"No, " replied Jack; "quite the other way. He's getting worse, ifanything; but he's too good a horse to chuck over. There's not a betterwheeler on the route than Rory, once he settles down to his work. "

After going a couple of miles, during which Rory behaved about as badlyas a wheeler could, he did settle down quietly to his work and all wentsmoothly. They were among the hills now, and the steep ascents anddescents, sharp turns, and many bridges over the gullies made itnecessary for Davis to drive with the utmost care. At length theyreached the summit of the long slope, and began the descent into thevalley. 

"I'd just as soon I hadn't any doubts about this brake, " said Davis toMr. Miller, as he put his foot hard down upon it. 

"Oh, it'll hold all right enough, Jack, " replied Mr. Miller, reassuringly. 

"Hope so, " said Davis. "If it doesn't, we'll have to run for it to thebottom. "

The road slanted steadily downward, and with brake held hard andwheelers spread out from the pole holding back with all their strength, the heavy coach lumbered cautiously down. Now it was that Black Roryproved his worth, for, thoroughly understanding what was needed of him, he threw his whole weight and strength back upon the pole, keeping hisown mate no less than the leaders in check. 

"We'll be at Brown's Gully in a couple of minutes, " said the driver. "Once we get past there, all right; the rest won't matter. "

Brown's Gully was the ugliest bit of road on the whole route. A steephill, along the side of which the road wound at a sharp slant, led downto a deep, dark gully crossed by a high trestle bridge. Just before thebridge there was a sudden turn which required no common skill to safelyround when going at speed. 

As they reached the beginning of the slant, Jack Davis' face took on ananxious look, his mouth became firm and set, his hand tightened upon thereins, and his foot upon the brake, and with constant exclamation to hishorses of "Easy now!--go easy!--hold back, my beauties!" he guided thegreat coach in its descent. 

Mr. Miller put Bert between his knees, saying:

"Stick right there, my boy; don't budge an inch. "

Although the wheelers, and particularly Black Rory, were doing theirbest, the coach began to go faster than Davis liked, and with a shout of"Whoa there! Go easy, will you!" he had just shoved his foot stillharder against the brake, when there was a sharp crack, and the hugevehicle suddenly sprang forward upon the wheelers' heels. 

"God help us!" cried Jack, "the brake's gone. We've got to run for itnow. "

And run for it they did. 

It was a time of great peril. Mr. Miller clung tightly to the seat, andBert shrank back between his knees. Davis, with feet braced against thedashboard, and reins gathered close in his hands, put forth all hisgreat strength to control the horses, now flying over the narrow road ata wild gallop. Brown's Gully, already sombre with the shadows ofevening, showed dark and deep before them. Just around that corner wasthe bridge. Were they to meet another carriage there, it would meandestruction to both. Davis well knew this, and gave a gasp of reliefwhen they swung round the corner and saw that the road was clear. Ifthey could only hit the bridge, all right; the danger would be passed. 

"Now, Rory, _now_, " shouted Davis, giving a tremendous tug at thehorse's left rein, and leaning far over in that direction himself. 

[Illustration: "Davis put forth all his strength to control the horses, now flying over the road at a wild gallop. " _Page 36. _]

Mr. Miller shut his eyes; the peril seemed too great to be gazed upon. If they missed the bridge, they must go headlong into the gully. Anothermoment and it was all over. 

As the coach swung round the corner into the straight road beyond, itsimpetus carried it almost over the edge, but not quite. With a splendideffort, the great black wheeler drew it over to the left. The frontwheels kept the track, and although the hind wheels struck the side railof the bridge with a crash and a jerk that well-nigh hurled Bert outupon the horses' backs, and the big coach leaned far over to the right, it shot back into the road again, and went thundering over the tremblingbridge uninjured. 

"Thank God!" exclaimed Mr. Miller, fervently, when the danger waspassed. 

"Amen!" responded Jack Davis. 

"I knew He would help us, " added Bert. 

"Knew who would, Bert?" inquired Mr. Miller, bending over him tenderly, while something very like a tear glistened in his eye. 

"I knew God would take care of us, " replied Bert, promptly. "The driverasked Him to; and didn't you ask Him, too?"

"I did, " said Mr. Miller, adding, with a sigh, "but I'm afraid I had notmuch right to expect Him to hear me. "

They had no further difficulties. The road ran smoothly along the restof the way, and shortly after sundown the coach, with great noise andclatter, drove into the village of Riverton, where grandpapa was to meetMrs. Lloyd and Bert, and take them home in his own carriage. 

CHAPTER VI. 

AT GRANDFATHER'S. 

Easily distinguished in the crowd gathered to welcome the coach, whosearrival was always the event of the evening, was Bert's grandfather, Squire Stewart, a typical old Scotchman, from every point of view. Asthe passengers got out, he stood watching them in silent dignity, untilMrs. Lloyd, catching sight of him, ran impulsively up, and taking hisface between her two hands, gave him a warm kiss on each cheek, saying:

"Dear father, I'm so glad to see you looking so well. "

"And I'm well pleased to see you, Kate, " responded the Squire, in a toneof deep affection, adding: "And is this your boy?" as Bert, who in themeantime had been lifted down from his place, came to his mother's side. 

"He's a fine big boy, and not ill-looking, either. I trust his mannershave not been neglected. "

"You'll have to judge of that for yourself, father, " replied Mrs. Lloyd. "He's by no means perfect, but he's pretty good, upon the whole. "

"Well, daughter, I'll go and get the carriage, if you'll just wait herea moment, " said Mr. Stewart, going off toward the stables. 

Presently he returned, driving an elegant carriage with a fine pair ofwell-matched bays, which, old man though he was, he held in completecontrol. 

"We won't mind the trunks now, Kate; I will send in for them in themorning, " said he, as he helped them into their seats. 

Maplebank, Squire Stewart's place, was situated about four miles fromRiverton, and on the way out father and daughter had much to say to oneanother. As for Bert, he sat in silence on his seat. He felt very muchawed by his grandfather. There was something so stern and severe abouthis time-worn countenance, he seemed so stiff in his bearing, and hisvoice had such a deep, rough tone in it, that, to tell the truth, Bertbegan to feel half sorry he had come. But this feeling disappearedentirely when, on arriving at Maplebank, he found himself in the arms ofAunt Sarah before he had time to jump out of the carriage, and was thenpassed over to his grandmother, who nearly smothered him with kisses. 

If his grandfather filled him with awe, his grandmother inspired himwith love, from the very start. And no wonder, indeed, for she was thevery poetry of a grandmother. A small woman, with slender frame, alreadystooping somewhat beneath the burden of years, her snow-white hair andspotless cap framed one of the sweetest faces that ever beamed on thisearth. Bert gave her his whole heart at once, and during all the days hespent at Maplebank she was his best loved friend. 

Yet he did not fail to be very fond of his two aunts, likewise. With anuncle, who remained at home, assisting his father in the management ofthe property, they comprised the household, and the three apparentlyconspired to do their best to spoil Master Bert during that summer. Berttook very kindly to the spoiling, too, and under the circumstances itwas a wonder he did not return to Halifax quite demoralised, as regardsdomestic discipline. But of this further. 

They were a merry party sitting down to tea that evening, and Bert, having appeased his hunger and found his tongue, amused them all verymuch by his account of what he had seen from the coach top. The narrowescape they had had at Brown's Gully was of course much discussed. Squire Stewart had nothing but censure for the driver. 

"The man had no business to go out with anything likely to break. Betterfor you to have waited a day than run any such risks. I shall certainlybring the matter to the attention of Mr. Lindsay, " he said. 

Nobody ventured to say anything to the contrary; but Bert, who wassitting by his mother, turned an anxious face up to hers, and whispered:"Grandpapa won't hurt Mr. Davis, will he? He was so good to me, and heasked God to save us; and He did. "

"It will be all right, dear, " his mother whispered back. "Don't worryyourself about it. " And Bert, reassured, said nothing more. 

Bedtime for him soon came, and then, to his great delight, he found thatinstead of being banished to a room somewhere away upstairs, he was tobe put in a curious bed, that filled a corner of the parlour in whichthe family sat. Bert had never seen anything like that bed before. Itlooked just like a closet, but when you opened the closet door, behold, there was a bed, and a very comfortable one, too. Just behind theparlour, with a door between, was the best bedroom, which his motherwould have, and there Bert undressed, returning in his night-gown to saygoodnight to all before tumbling into bed. 

With the closet door wide open, he could see everything that went on inthe room; and it was so delightful to lie there watching the familyreading or talking, until at last, sleep came to claim him. 

"Now, if you're a good boy, and don't attempt to talk after your head'son the pillow, I'll leave the door open, so you can see us all, " saidAunt Sarah, as she tucked Bert snugly in; and he had sense enough to bea good boy, so that not a sound came from him ere his brown eyes closedfor the night. 

Many a night after that did he lie there luxuriously, watching hisgrandfather reading the newspaper, with a candle placed between hisface and the paper, in such close proximity to both, that Bert'sconstant wonder was that one or the other of them never got burned; hisgrandmother, whose eyes no longer permitted her to read at night, knitting busily in her arm-chair, or nodding over her needles; AuntSarah, reading in the book that always lay at hand for leisure moments;Aunt Martha, stitching away, perhaps on some of his own torn garments;his mother writing home to Mr. Lloyd, or to Mary; while from thekitchen, outside, came the subdued sound of the servants' voices, asthey chattered over their tasks. Bert thought it a lovely way to go tosleep, and often afterward, when at home, going up alone to bed in hisown room, wished that he was back at grandfather's again. 

Bert slept late the next morning, for he was a very tired boy when hewent to bed; and for this once he was indulged. But as he entered thedining-room, his grandfather, who had finished breakfast a full hourbefore, looking at him with that stern expression which was habitual tohim, said:

"City boys must keep country hours when they come to the country. Earlyto bed, early to rise, is the rule of this house, my boy. "

Poor Bert was rather disconcerted by this reception, but managed to say:

"All right, grandpapa, I'll try, " as he took his seat. 

The day was full of novelty and delight to the city boy, as, under UncleAlec's guidance, he went about the farm, and visited the horses in thestable, the cattle in the pasture, the pigs in the stye; and then, withAunt Martha, inspected the dairy, a big cool room in a small building, well shaded by trees, where long rows of shallow pans stood filled withrich milk or golden cream; while just before tea, Aunt Sarah claimed himfor a walk in the garden, where tiger lilies, hollyhocks, mock oranges, peonies, and other old-fashioned flowers grew in gay profusion. 

Grandmother was too much engrossed with her daughter to pay muchattention to Bert that day. Yet he had more than one token of affectionat her hands; and, taken altogether, it was a very happy day. 

After tea, Mrs. Lloyd took her son off for a little chat alone, wishingto draw him out as to his first impressions. 

"Have you had a happy day, Bert?" she asked. 

"Yes, indeed, mother. It has been just splendid. I think grandmamma anduncle and my aunties are lovely, but"--and here Bert hesitated as ifafraid to finish his remark. 

"But what, Bert?" asked Mrs. Lloyd. "What were you going to say when youstopped?"

"I don't like grandpapa, mother, " said Bert, after a little pause, bringing the words out slowly, and then adding, almost in a whisper, "I'm afraid of grandpapa, mother. "

"Hush, Bert. You shouldn't say that you don't like your grandfather. But, tell me, why are you afraid of him?"

"Oh, because he seems so cross, and isn't kind to me like the others. "

"But he isn't really cross, Bert. He loves you quite as much as theothers do, but then he is an old man and has a great deal to thinkabout. Now, Bert darling, I want you to learn to love your grandpapa, and to try and never be any bother to him. You will, won't you?"

"I'll try not to be a bother to him, mother, but I don't think it's muchuse my trying to love him unless he stops looking so cross. "

"Well, try your best, at all events, Bert, " said Mrs. Lloyd, giving herson a tender kiss. "And now come, let's see if we can findgrandmother. "

CHAPTER VII. 

COUNTRY EXPERIENCES. 

Bert had come to Maplebank just in time for the haying season. The longslopes of upland and the level stretches of intervale waved before thebreeze their russet and green wealth, awaiting the summons of the scytheand reaper. A number of extra hands had been hired to help in gatheringthe crop, which this year was unusually abundant, and a few days afterBert's coming the attack was begun. 

The mowing machine had not yet reached Maplebank. The papers weretalking about it a good deal, but Squire Stewart was not the man toquickly adopt new inventions, and nobody else in the neighbourhood couldafford to do so. Consequently, the West River Valley still continued towitness the good, old-fashioned way of mowing with the scythe; and Bert, accompanying Uncle Alec to the field, was filled with admiration for thestalwart "Rorys" and "Donalds" and "Sandys" as they strode along throughthe thick grass, cutting a wide swath before them. There was somethingin the work that appealed to the boy's bump of destructiveness, andfilled him with eagerness to join in it. 

"Oh, Uncle Alec, mayn't I mow?" he asked. 

"Certainly, Bert, if you know how; but if you don't, I wouldn't adviseyou to try it, " was the smiling reply. 

Not at all discouraged, Bert waited patiently until one of the mowersstopped to sharpen his scythe, and then stepping to him, asked, in hismost engaging way:

"Please, sir, won't you let me mow a little?"

The man looked down at him in surprise. 

"You couldn't hold a scythe, sonny, " he said, with a grin of amusement. 

"Oh, yes, I could. Please let me try; won't you?" pleaded Bert. 

The man yielded, and placing his scythe in Bert's hands, told him to goahead. 

With much difficulty Bert succeeded in grasping the two short handleswhich projected from the long curved shaft, and, summoning all hisstrength, he tried to move the scythe in the way the mowers were doing. But at the first attempt the sharp point stuck in the turf, andinstantly the long handle flew up, turned over, and hit him a hardcrack, square between the eyes, that felled him to the ground. 

The stars were dancing before his eyes, and the next moment the tearswould have been there too, had he not, as he picked himself up, caughtsight of the men laughing heartily over his mishap. 

"They shan't see me cry, " said he to himself; and, putting forth aheroic effort, he swallowed his tears, though the gulping them down waspositively painful, and, standing up straight, looked bravely about him. Uncle Alec saw it all and understood just how Bert felt. 

"Well done, my little hero, " said he, clapping him on the back. "Youhave the right stuff in you. "

"That he has, sir, " said Big Sandy, with an admiring look. "He wouldmake a right good laddie for the farm. "

Bert's heart was filled with joy at these praises, and he determinedthat nobody on the farm should ever see him cry, unless he reallycouldn't at all help it. 

The scythe handle gave him quite an ugly bruise, which caused many aquestion when he went back to the house; and Aunt Sarah, who was asnervous as she was loving and sympathetic, made much ado over it, andinsisted on a bandage, which made Bert look like a little soldier whohad been in action. Mrs. Lloyd took the matter much more quietly. Sheknew her son had to get his share of bumps and bruises, and that eachone would bring wisdom with it; so she contented herself with a kiss ofsympathy, and the hope that he would have better fortune next time. 

The succeeding days were full of surprises and enjoyments to Bert. 

His mother gave him full liberty to go and come as he pleased, so longas he did not roam beyond the borders of the homestead, except whenwith Uncle Alec. The hay mows, the carriage loft, the sheep pens, thecattle stalls, were all explored; and ever so many cosy little nooksdiscovered, that seemed just made for "hide and seek" or "I spy. " SquireStewart had three barns on his homestead; one very large double barn, and two smaller ones. Each of these had its own attractions; but the bigbarn, that stood to your left, half way between the red gate and thehouse, was the best of all. It contained great hay mows, in which vastquantities of hay could be stored; a row of stalls where the horsesstood when not out at pasture; queer dark pens, into which the sheepwere gathered at winter time; and then, down underneath, great ranges ofuprights, between which the patient cattle were fastened, and fed withhay, in the months when the snow lay deep upon their accustomedpastures. There was an air of shadowy mystery about this huge, ramblingstructure, with its lichen-patched roof, that fascinated Bert, and thateven the saucy chirpings of the sparrows, which boldly built their nestsin its dusty corners, could not dispel. 

Bert often wished that his city playmates could come and share with himthe enjoyments of "grandfather's. " He was not without companions, however. Cameron, the big blacksmith at the cross-roads, had threefreckle-faced boys that were very glad to play with the little gentlemanat Squire Stewart's, when they could get away from the numerous dutiesthey were required to do at home; and other playmates soon turned up. Bert was at first not very much inclined to be sociable with them. Notonly did they seem to have no shoes and stockings, but their entireclothing was usually limited to a battered straw hat, an unbleachedcotton shirt, and a pair of rough homespun trousers; and the city boywas inclined to look upon the country lads with some contempt, until hisAunt Martha cured him effectually one day by a remark made in a quietway. 

Bert had been making some unflattering comments upon the barefootedyoungsters, when Aunt Martha interrupted him:

"You had better not make fun of those boys, Bert, " said she, with acurious smile. "They may look as though they were poor, but rememberthat their fathers have all of them their own carriage and horses, andyour father has not. "

Bert saw the point at once, and never again ventured to ridicule boyswho were the sons of "real carriage folk. " Not only so, but he began atonce to feel a respect for them, which wrought such a change in hisbearing toward them, that they, who were not at all favourably impressedat first, changed their minds and decided that he was a "right smartlittle fellow. "

It was while playing "hide and seek" in the big barn with half-a-dozenof these youngsters, that Bert had a narrow escape from serious injury, if not, indeed, from death. The great, gaping mows were being filledwith hay, which was pitched in any way, and not, of course, packedfirmly. Consequently, it was in some places like snow upon the Alpineslopes--ready to fall in an avalanche, at the slightest temptation. 

In endeavouring to reach a far corner of the barn, where he felt sure noone could possibly find him, Bert tried to cross a hill of hay, that hadpiled up in one division of the mow. His hasty movements were just whatwas needed to bring the whole mass toppling down in confusion to thebottom of the mow. Unfortunately for him, he was involved in theoverthrow, and without a moment's warning was buried beneath a huge massof hay. As he went sliding helplessly down he uttered a cry of terror, which startled little Rory Chisholm, who sprang out from hishiding-place just in time to see poor Bert disappear. 

"Hi! Hi! boys--come here; Bert Lloyd's under the hay. "

The boys quickly gathered, and with eager hands set to work, to rescuetheir imperiled playmate. But, vigorously though they toiled, it wasslow progress they made; and in the meantime the little fellow, pressedupon by many hundredweight of hay, was fast losing breath andconsciousness. He could hear them very indistinctly, but could not makea sound himself. 

By a fortunate accident, one of the men happened along, just as theboys were near giving up the task as too great for them. 

"Donald! Donald! Quick! Bert Lloyd's under the hay. Dig him out, orhe'll die, " cried Rory, at the top of his voice. 

Seizing a pitchfork, Donald attacked the hay like a giant, getting moreand more careful as he drew near the bottom of the mow, until at last, with a shout of "I've got him, " he stooped down and dragged thesenseless form of Bert from the very bottom of the pile. Taking him inhis arms, he ran with him to the house, and gave Aunt Sarah a greatfright by suddenly plumping him into her lap, as she sat on the verandahreading, saying, breathlessly:

"Here, miss, bring him to, and he'll be none the worse for it. "

Aunt Sarah screamed for hartshorn, spirits of wine, and the dear knowswhat, but Mrs. Lloyd, bringing a glass of water, dashed it freely overher boy's pale face, and in a minute or two he opened his eyes again. AsDonald said, he was none the worse for his experience, for no bones werebroken, nor muscles strained; yet all felt thankful that he had escapedso well. 

It was not long after this that Bert had another adventure, which alsocame near costing him his life. He was not only very fond of water, butas fearless about it as a Newfoundland puppy. The blue sea, calm as amirror or flecked with "white caps, " formed part of his earliestrecollections. He would play at its margin all day long, building fortsout of sand for the advancing billows of the tide to storm andoverwhelm. He was never happier than when gliding over it in hisfather's skiff. It was the last thing in nature he looked upon beforelying down at night, and the first thing to which he turned on awakingin the morning. Thus he got so used to the great salt sea, that when hecame to Maplebank and looked at the quiet stream, which glided along sonoiselessly at the bottom of the slope before the house, he thought it amere plaything, and could hardly be made to understand that, innocent asthe river appeared, there was water enough in it to drown him ten timesover. 

One day some of the village folk came out to spend the day at Maplebank, and the weather being decidedly warm, Uncle Alec proposed that the menof the party should go with him for a bathe. They gladly assented, andBert having begged to accompany them was given leave to do so. UncleAlec took them to a lovely spot for a bath--a tempting nook in which onemight almost have expected to surprise a water nymph or two, if you drewnear quietly enough. On one side, the bank rose high and steep, affording perfect seclusion; a narrow beach of gravel made a fine placefor undressing. The river rolled gently along with plenty of depth, andbeyond it was another beach, and then the swelling intervale. 

Amid much laughter and excitement the men undressed, Uncle Alec allowingBert to do the same, as he had promised to carry him across the river onhis back. So soon as they were ready the bathers dived in; and, withmuch splashing and noise, swam races to the opposite bank, leaving Bertalone upon the shore. Skylarking with one another there they quiteforgot their little companion until Uncle Alec looking across, gave astart, and cried out:

"Hallo! What's become of the boy?"

Not a sign of Bert was to be seen. His little pile of clothes, with hatplaced carefully on top, was plain enough but no Bert. Full of anxiety, Uncle Alec sprang into the water, and with great sweeping strokes madefor the other side. The water fairly foamed about his broad, whiteshoulders as he tore through it. He steered straight for the spot wherehe had seen Bert last. Three-fourths of the distance had been covered, when suddenly he stopped, and reaching down into the water, pulledup--What do you think? Why, Bert, of course, whose big brown eyes hadstartled him as they looked up at him through the clear, cool water. Buthow did Bert get there? Well, easily enough. He had got tired waitingfor his uncle to come back for him. He wanted to be over there where themen were all having such fun. He could not swim across, so he justcoolly accepted the only alternative, and started to walk across! WhenUncle Alec found him there was a clear foot of water over his head. Astep or two more and he would certainly have lost his footing, beencarried away by the current, and drowned perhaps before Uncle Alec couldhave found him. 

The men all voted him a young hero when they were told of his attempt, and Uncle Alec vowed he'd teach him to swim the next time he paid avisit to Maplebank. 

Aunt Sarah was greatly excited when she heard of her darling Bert'ssecond escape, and had Mrs. Lloyd taken her advice the poor boy wouldhave been tied to somebody's apron strings for the rest of the summer. But Mrs. Lloyd thought it better to do no more than caution Bert, andtrust to the Providence that protects children to keep him from harm. Hewould have to learn to take care of himself sooner or later, and thesooner the better. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

TEMPTATION AND TRIUMPH. 

The one day in the week that Bert did not like at Maplebank was Sunday;and, indeed, under the circumstances, he was not without excuse. Athome, the Lord's Day was always made as bright and cheerful as possible. The toys and playthings of the week-days were of course put aside, andwading by the seashore or coasting down the lane was not to be thoughtof, but in their place Bert had his father's company, of which he neverhad enough, and Mr. Lloyd made it a point, whether he really felt ingood spirits himself or not, to appear to be so to Bert; and, inconsequence, the little chap never thought his father quite sodelightful as on the day of rest, that was so welcome to the lawyer, tired by a week's toil at his profession. 

Then mother had more leisure, too; and besides the pleasure of goingwith his parents to church, dressed in his best clothes, a privilegeBert fully appreciated, there was the enjoyment of having her read tohim wonderfully interesting stories from the Bible or Pilgrim'sProgress, and explaining to him whatever puzzled his brain. 

If the day was fine, Mary would take him with her to the Sunday school, where, with a number of youngsters like himself, the hour would passquickly enough, as Miss Brightley entertained them with song and story, and pictures bearing upon the lesson. And then, after Sunday school, insummer time, his father would lead him off to the old fort, where theywould sit on the grassy ramparts, watching the white sailed shipscleaving the blue waters, that never seemed more beautiful than onSunday afternoon. 

But at Maplebank it was all very different. Squire Stewart was aPresbyterian of the stern old Covenanter stock. To him the Lord's Daymeant a day to be spent in unsmiling strictness of conversation anddemeanour. No laughter, no bright talk, no semblance of joyousness wassanctioned; nor, indeed, could have existed within the range of hissolemn countenance. He was a grave and silent man at any time, but onSunday the gravity of his appearance was little short of appalling. Onemeeting him for the first time would certainly have thought that he hadjust been visited by some overwhelming affliction. Bert, on the morningof his first Sunday, coming out of his mother's room, after receivingthe finishing touches to his dress, and dancing along the hall, injoyous anticipation of the drive in the big carriage to the village, ranright into his grandfather. Laying a strong hand on the boy's shoulder, Squire Stewart looked down at him, with disapproval written on everyline of his stern face. 

"My boy, " said he, in his deepest tones, "know you not that this is theSabbath day, and that you are to keep it holy, and not be dancing alongthe hall?"

Poor Bert shrank away, with a trembling, "I didn't mean to, sir, " andthenceforth avoided his grandfather as completely as though he were acriminal and the Squire was a policeman. 

Not only at the house, but at the church, did Bert find Sunday a day ofdreariness. And here again, who could blame him? He was only a boy and avery restless, active boy, at that, to whom one half-hour's sittingstill was about as much as he could endure. How, then, could he beexpected to be equal to four whole hours of stillness? Yet that was whathis grandfather required of him whenever he went to church. 

The order of the day was as follows:--Leaving the house about teno'clock in the big covered carriage, of which the Squire felt dulyproud, as being the only one in the county, they drove leisurely intothe village, where the horses were put up, and after the ladies haddropped in at a friend's to make sure their bonnets and dresses were asthey ought to be, they wended their way to the church, which, standingright in the centre of the village, was noisily summoning itsworshippers to its seats as the big bell swung to and fro high up in thesteeple. 

The church service began at eleven o'clock, and was of the mostold-fashioned orthodox type. No organ had yet profaned the sanctity ofthat holy place, but instead thereof, a quartette of singers, selectedseemingly more for the strength than the sweetness of their voices, occupied a large box right under the pulpit, and thence led thecongregation by a whole bar at least, in the rendering of Tate andBrady's metrical version of the Psalms. Very weird and sorrowful weremany of the tunes. None were bright and inspiring like those Bert waswont to hear at home, and as choir and congregation vied with oneanother in the vigour of their singing, the little fellow was sometimeshalf-frightened at the bewildering noise they made. 

A saintlier pastor than the Reverend Mr. Goodman, D. D. , fewcongregations possessed; but only those members of his audience who wereof like age with himself thought him a good preacher. He had, indeed, some gifts in expounding the Bible, and even Bert would be interested ifthe lesson happened to be one of those stirring stories from the OldTestament which seem so full of life and truth. But when it came topreaching a sermon--well, it must be confessed there were then few dryerpreachers throughout the whole Province of Acadia. Bending low over hismanuscript, for his eyesight was poor, and lifting his head only nowand then to wipe his brow, or relieve his throat, with a dry, hardcough, Mr. Goodman pursued his way steadily and monotonously from"firstly" to "lastly" every Sunday. 

And not only once, but twice on every Sunday. For be it understood, thatalthough many of the congregation lived too far away from the church tomake two trips to it from their homes, they were not thereby going to bedeprived of two services. Accordingly, after the morning service--whichusually lasted until one o'clock--was over, a recess of one hour forlunch and fresh air followed, and at two o'clock a second service, precisely similar in character, was entered upon, which occupied twohours more. And then, having thus laid in a supply of sound theology forthe rest of the week, the good people of Calvin church, after indulgingin a little harmless gossiping at the church door--of which indulgence, by the way, Squire Stewart strongly disapproved, and would haveprohibited, had he been able--harnessed up their horses and drove awayhome. 

Four hours of church service of so unattractive a character, and that inmid-summer! Poor little Bert! He did not want to shock his grandfather, or bring his mother's discipline into condemnation; but really, howcould he be all that the Squire, who, if he ever had been a boy himself, must have quite forgotten about it, expected him to be? If he went tosleep, Aunt Sarah or Aunt Martha, in obedience to signals fromgrandfather, shook or pinched him awake again. If he stayed awake, hefelt that he must wriggle or die. Sometimes the temptation to scream outloud was so strong that it seemed little short of a miracle he did notyield to it. Mrs. Lloyd fully sympathised with her son's troubles, butaccustomed from infancy to obey her father unquestioningly, she wouldnot venture to do more than softly plead for Bert, now and then, when hewas more restless than usual. Her pleadings were not altogether vain, and frequently they had the result of securing for Bert a boon that hehighly appreciated. 

Squire Stewart was bothered by a troublesome chronic cough. He did notmind it very much when at home, but at church he felt it to be anuisance both to himself and his neighbours. To ease it somewhat healways carried to church with him a number of black currant lozenges, asupply of which he kept in his big mahogany desk at home. Occasionally, either as encouragement to him to try and be a better boy, or as a tokenof relenting for being over severe, he would pass Bert one of theselozenges, and Bert thought them the most delicious and desirablesweetmeat ever invented. Not that they were really anything wonderful, though they were very expensive; but the circumstances under which hereceived them gave them a peculiar relish; and it was in regard to themthat Bert fought and won the sharpest battle with the tempter of all hisearly boyhood. It happened in this way:

As already mentioned, Squire Stewart kept a supply of these lozenges inhis big mahogany desk, that had a table to itself in the parlour. Thisdesk was always kept locked, and Bert had many a time, when alone in theroom, gone up to it, and passed his hand over its polished surface, thinking to himself how nice it would be if the package of lozenges wasin his pocket instead of shut up in there where nobody could get at it. 

One morning, as Bert was playing about the house, a message came thatthe Squire was wanted at once at the farthest barn, as one of the horseshad been hurt by another. He went out hastily, and shortly after, Bert, going into the parlour, saw the desk wide open, his grandfather havingbeen looking for a paper when so suddenly called away. The moment hiseyes fell upon the open desk, a thought flashed into his mind that setevery nerve tingling. As though the old desk exerted some strange andsubtle fascination, he drew near it; slowly, hesitatingly, almost ontiptoe, yet steadily. His heart beat like a trip-hammer, and his earswere straining to catch the slightest sound of any one's approach. Thehouse was wonderfully quiet. He seemed to be quite alone in it; andpresently he found himself close beside the desk. Although open, theinner lids were still shut, and ere Bert put out his hand to lift theone under which he thought the package of lozenges lay, the thought ofthe wrong he was doing came upon him so strongly as well-nigh toconquer the temptation. For a moment he stood there irresolute; and thenagain the hand that had dropped to his side was stretched forth. As ittouched the desk lid a thrill shot through his heart; and again hehesitated and drew back. 

It was really a tremendous struggle, and one upon which great issueshung, so far as that boy, alone in that room with the tempter, wasconcerned. Bert fully realized how wrong it would be for him to touchthe lozenges; but, oh! what a wonderful fascination they had for him!

Reaching forward again, he lifted up the desk lid, and there, fullyexposed to view, lay the package temptingly wide open, displaying itstoothsome contents. The crisis of the temptation had come. An instantmore, and Bert would have yielded; when suddenly his better nature gotthe upper hand, and with a quick resolution, the secret of which henever fully understood, he cried out:

"No, I won't. " And slamming down the desk lid, he tried to run out ofthe room, and ran right into the arms of his grandfather, who, unseenand unsuspected, had witnessed the whole transaction from the door. 

Overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and terror at having been detected bythe one person of all others whom he dreaded most, Bert sank down on thefloor, sobbing as though his heart would break. But, strange to say, thestern old man had no harsh words for him now. On the contrary, he bentdown and lifting the little fellow gently to his feet said, in tones ofdeepest tenderness:

"No tears, laddie; no tears. You've fought a grand fight, and glad am Ithat I was there to see you win it. God grant you like success to theend of your days. I'm proud of you, Bert boy; I'm proud of you. "

Scarce able to believe his ears, Bert looked up through his tears intohis grandfather's face. But there was no mistaking the expression ofthat rugged old countenance. It fairly beamed with love and pride, andthrowing himself into his arms, Bert for the first time realised thathis grandfather loved him. 

He never forgot that scene. Many a time after it came back to him, andhelped him to decide for the right. And many a time, too, whengrandfather seemed unduly stern, did the remembrance of his face thatmorning in the parlour drive away the hard feelings that had begun toform against him. 

CHAPTER IX. 

LOST AND FOUND. 

The summer days passed very quickly and happily for Bert at Maplebank, especially after the surprising revelation of the love and tendernessthat underlay his grandfather's stern exterior. No one did more for hiscomfort or happiness than his grandmother, and he loved her accordinglywith the whole strength of his young heart. She was so slight and frail, and walked with such slow, gentle steps, that the thought of being herprotector and helper often came into his mind and caused him to put on amore erect, important bearing as he walked beside her in the garden, orthrough the orchard where the apples were already beginning to givepromise of the coming ripeness. 

Mrs. Stewart manifested her love for her grandson in one way that made agreat impression upon Bert. She would take him over to the dairy, in itscool place beneath the trees, and, selecting the cooler with thethickest cream upon it, would skim off a teaspoonful into a large spoonthat was already half filled with new oatmeal, and then pour theluscious mixture into the open mouth waiting expectantly beside her. 

"Is not that fine, Bertie boy?" she would say, patting himaffectionately upon the head; and Bert, his mouth literally too full forutterance, would try to look the thanks he could not speak. 

Maplebank had many strange visitors. It stood a little way back from thejunction of three roads, and the Squire's hospitality to wayfarers beingunbounded, the consequence was that rarely did a night pass without oneor more finding a bed in some corner of the kitchen. Sometimes it wouldbe a shipwrecked sailor, slowly finding his way on foot to the nearestshipping port. Sometimes a young lad with pack on back, setting out toseek his fortune at the capital, or in the States beyond. Again it wouldbe a travelling tinker, or tailor, or cobbler, plying his trade fromhouse to house, and thereby making an honest living. 

But the most frequent visitors of all--real nuisances, though, theyoften made themselves--were the poor, simple folk, of whom a number ofboth sexes roamed ceaselessly about. Not far from Maplebank was what thebetter class called a "straglash district"--that is, a settlementcomposed of a number of people who had by constant intermarriage, andpoor living, caused insanity of a mild type to be woefully common. Almost every family had its idiot boy or girl, and these poor creatures, being, as a rule, perfectly harmless, were suffered to go at large, andwere generally well treated by the neighbours, upon whose kindness theywere continually trespassing. 

The best known of them at the time of Bert's visit, was one called"Crazy Colin, " a strange being, half wild, half civilised, with theframe of an athlete, and the mind of a child. Although more than thirtyyears of age, he had never shown much more sense than a two-year-oldbaby. He even talked in a queer gibberish, such as was suitable to thatstage of childhood. Everybody was kind to him. His clothes and his foodwere given him. As for a roof, he needed none in summer save when itstormed, and in winter he found refuge among his own people. His chiefdelight was roaming the woods and fields, talking vigorously to himselfin his own language, and waving a long ash staff that was rarely out ofhis hands. He would thus spend whole days in apparent content, returningonly when the pangs of hunger could be borne no longer. 

Bert took a great deal of interest in these "straglash" people, andespecially in Crazy Colin, who was a frequent visitor at the Squire'skitchen, for Mrs. Stewart never refused him a generous bowl of porridgeand milk, or a huge slice of bread and butter. At first he was not alittle afraid of Crazy Colin. But soon he got accustomed to him, andthen, boy-like, presuming upon acquaintance, began to tease him a bitwhen he would come in for a "bite and sup. " More than once the idiot'seyes flashed dangerously at Bert's prank; but, fool though he was, hehad sense enough to understand that any outbreak would mean his promptexpulsion and banishment, and so he would restrain himself. Onememorable day, however, when Bert least expected or invited it, thedemon of insanity broke loose in a manner that might have had seriousconsequences. 

It was on a Sunday. The whole family had gone off to church, exceptBert, who had been left at home in the charge of the cook. She was astrapping big Scotch lassie, and very fond of Bert. About an hour afterthe family left, Crazy Colin sauntered along and took his seat in thekitchen. Neither Kitty nor Bert was by any means pleased to see him, butthey thought it better to keep their feelings to themselves. Bert, indeed, made some effort to be entertaining, but Crazy Colin seemed inrather a sulky mood, an unusual thing for him, so Bert soon gave it up, and went off into the garden. 

The roses were blooming beautifully there, and he picked several beforereturning to the kitchen. When he came back, he found the unwelcomevisitor alone, Kitty having gone into the other part of the house. Hewas sitting beside the table with his head bent forward upon his hands, apparently in deep dejection. Upon the table was a large knife whichKitty had just been using in preparing the meat for dinner. Thinking itwould please poor Colin, Bert selected the finest rose in his bunch andhanded it to him, moving off toward the door leading into the hall ashe did so. Colin lifted his head and grasped the rose rudely. As his bighand closed upon it, a thorn that hid under the white petals pierceddeep into the ball of his thumb. In an instant the sleeping demon ofinsanity awoke. With eyes blazing and frame trembling with fury, hesprang to his feet, seized the knife, and with a hoarse, inarticulateshout, turned upon Bert, who, paralysed with terror, stood rooted to thespot half-way between the idiot and the door. It was a moment ofimminent peril, but ere Crazy Colin could reach the boy, his hoarse crywas echoed by a shrill shriek from behind Bert, and two stout armsencircling him, bore him off through the door and up the stairs, pausingnot until Squire Stewart's bedroom was gained and the door locked fast. Then depositing her burden upon the floor, brave, big Kitty threwherself into a chair, exclaiming, breathlessly:

"Thank God, Master Bert, we're safe now. The creature darsen't come upthose stairs. "

And Kitty was right; for although Crazy Colin raged and stormed up anddown the hall, striking the wall with the knife, and talking in hiswild, unintelligible way, he did not attempt to set foot upon thestairs. Presently he became perfectly quiet. 

"Has he gone away, Kitty?" asked Bert, eagerly, speaking for the firsttime. "He's not making any noise now. "

Kitty stepped softly to the door, and putting her ear to the crack, listened intently for a minute. 

"There's not a sound of him, Master Bert. Please God, he's gone, but wehadn't better go out of the room until the folks come home. He may bewaiting in the kitchen. "

And so they stayed, keeping one another company through the long hoursof the morning and afternoon until at last the welcome sound of wheelscrushing the gravel told that the carriage had returned, and they mightleave their refuge. 

The indignation of Squire Stewart when he heard what had occurred was asight to behold. Sunday though it was, he burst forth into anunrestrained display of his wrath, and had the cause of it venturedalong at the time, he certainly would have been in danger of bodilyinjury. 

"The miserable trash!" stormed the Squire. "Not one of them shall everdarken my threshold again. Hech! that's what comes of being kind to suchobjects. They take you to be as big fools as themselves, and actaccordingly. The constable shall lay his grip on that loon so sure as Iam a Stewart. "

There were more reasons for the Squire's wrath, too, than the frightCrazy Colin had given Bert and Kitty, for no dinner awaited the hungrychurch-goers, and rejoiced as they all were at the happy escape of thetwo who had been left at home, that was in itself an insufficientsubstitute for a warm, well-cooked dinner. But Kitty, of course, couldnot be blamed, and there was nothing to be done but to make the best ofthe situation, and satisfy their hunger upon such odds and ends as thelarder afforded. 

As for poor Crazy Colin, whether by some subtle instinct on coming tohimself he realised how gravely he had offended, or whether in some wayor other he got a hint of the Squire's threats, cannot be said. Certainit was, that he did not present himself at Maplebank for many daysafter, and then he came under circumstances, which not only secured himcomplete forgiveness, but made him an actual hero, for the time, and wonhim a big place in the hearts of both Bert and his mother. 

Although Bert had been forbidden to leave the homestead, unless incompany with some grown-up person, he had on several occasions forgottenthis injunction, in the ardour of his play, but never so completely ason the day that, tempted by Charlie Chisholm, the most reckless, daringyoungster in the neighbourhood, he went away off into the back-lands, asthe woods beyond the hill pasture were called, in search of an eagle'snest, which the unveracious Charlie assured him was to be seen high upin a certain dead monarch of the forest. 

It was a beautiful afternoon, toward the end of August, when Bert, hisimagination fired by the thought of obtaining a young eagle, Charliehaving assured him that this was entirely possible, broke through allrestraints, and went off with his tempter. Unseen by any of thehousehold, as it happened, they passed through the milk yard, climbedthe hill, hastened across the pasture, dotted with the feeding cows, andsoon were lost to sight in the woods that fringed the line of settlementon both sides of the valley, and farther on widened into the greatforest that was traversed only by the woodsman and the hunter. 

On and on they went, until at length Bert was tired out. "Aren't we farenough now, Charlie?" he asked, plaintively, throwing himself down upona fallen tree to rest a little. 

"Not quite, Bert; but we'll soon be, " answered Charlie. "Let's take arest, and then go ahead, " he added, following Bert's example. 

Having rested a few minutes, Charlie sprang up saying:

"Come along, Bert; or we'll never get there. " And somewhat reluctantlythe latter obeyed. Deeper and deeper into the forest they made theirway, Charlie going, ahead confidently, and Bert following doubtfully;for he was already beginning to repent of his rashness, and wish that hewas home again. 

Presently Charlie showed signs of being uncertain as to the right route. He would turn first to the right and then to the left, peering eagerlyahead, as if hoping to come upon the big dead tree at any moment. Finally he stopped altogether. 

"See here, Bert; I guess we're on the wrong track, " said he, coolly. "I've missed the tree somehow, and it's getting late, so we'd bettermake for home. We'll have a try some other day. "

Poor little Bert, by this time thoroughly weary, was only too glad toturn homeward, and the relief at doing this gave him new strength for awhile. But it did not last very long, and soon, footsore and exhausted, he dropped down upon a bank of moss, and burst into tears. 

"Oh, Charlie, I wish we were home, " he sobbed. "I'm so tired, andhungry, too. "

Charlie did not know just what to do. It was getting on toward sundown;he had quite lost his way, and might be a good while finding it again, and he felt pretty well tired himself. But he put on a brave face andtried to be very cheerful, as he said:

"Don't cry, Bert. Cheer up, my boy, and we'll soon get home. "

It was all very well to say "cheer up, " but it was another thing to doit. As for getting home soon, if there were no other way for Bert to gethome than by walking the whole way, there was little chance of hissleeping in his own bed that night. 

How thoroughly miserable he did feel! His conscience, his legs, and hisstomach, were all paining him at once. He bitterly repented of hisdisobedience, and vowed he would never err in the same way again. Butthat, while it was all very right and proper, did not help him homeward. 

At length Charlie grew desperate. He had no idea of spending the nightin the woods if he could possibly help it, so he proposed a plan toBert:

"See here, Bert, " said he, "you're too played out to walk any more. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll run home as fast as I can, and saddlethe old mare and bring her here, and then we'll ride back againtogether. What do you say?"

"Oh, don't leave me here alone?" pleaded Bert. "I'll be awfullyfrightened. "

"Chut! Bert. There's nothing to frighten you but some old crows. Stayjust where you are, and I'll be back inside of an hour. " And withoutwaiting to argue the point, Charlie dashed off into the woods in thedirection he thought nearest home; while Bert, after crying out in vainfor him to come back, buried his face in the moss and gave himself up totears. 

One hour, two hours, three hours passed, and still Bert was alone. Thesun had set, the gloaming well-nigh passed, and the shadows of nightdrew near. All kinds of queer noises fell upon his ear, filling him withacute terror. He dared not move from the spot upon which Charlie hadleft him, but sat there, crouched up close against a tree, tremblingwith fear in every nerve. At intervals he would break out into vehementcrying, and then he would be silent again. Presently the darknessenveloped him, and still no succour came. 

Meantime, there had been much anxiety at Maplebank. On Bert's beingmissed, diligent inquiry was made as to his whereabouts, and at length, after much questioning, some one was found who had seen him, in companywith Charlie Chisholm, going up through the hill pasture toward thewoods. When Mrs. Lloyd heard who his companion was, her anxietyincreased, for she well knew what a reckless, adventurous little fellowCharlie was, and she determined that search should be made for the boysat once. But in this she was delayed by Uncle Alec and the men being offat a distance, and not returning until supper time. So soon as they didget back, and heard of Bert's disappearance, they swallowed theirsupper, and all started without delay to hunt him up. 

The dusk had come before the men--headed by Uncle Alec, and followed, asfar as the foot of the hill, by the old Squire--got well started ontheir search; but they were half-a-dozen in number, and all knew thecountry pretty well, so that the prospect of their finding the lost boysoon seemed bright enough. 

Yet the dusk deepened into darkness, and hour after hour passed--hoursof intense anxiety and earnest prayer on the part of the mother andothers at Maplebank--without any token of success. 

Mrs. Lloyd was not naturally a nervous woman, but who could blame her ifher feelings refused control when her darling boy was thus exposed todangers, the extent of which none could tell. 

The Squire did his best to cheer her in his bluff blunt way:

"Tut! tut! Kate. Don't worry so. The child's just fallen asleepsomewhere. He'll be found as soon as it's light. There's nothing to harmhim in those woods. "

Mrs. Lloyd tried hard to persuade herself that there wasn't, but allkinds of vague terrors filled her mind, and refused to be allayed. 

At length, as it drew toward midnight, a step was heard approaching, andthe anxious watchers rushed eagerly to the door, hoping for good news. But it was only one of the men, returning according to arrangement tosee if Bert had been found, and if not to set forth again along some newline of search. After a little interval another came, and then another, until all had returned, Uncle Alec being the last, and still no news ofBert. 

They were bidden to take some rest and refreshment before going back into the woods. While they were sitting in the kitchen, Uncle Alec, whowas exceedingly fond of Bert, and felt more concerned about him than hecared to show, having no appetite for food, went off toward the red gatewith no definite purpose except that he could not keep still. 

Presently the still midnight air was startled with a joyful "Hurrah!"followed close by a shout of "Bert's all right--he's here, " that broughtthe people in the house tumbling pell-mell against each other intheir haste to reach the door and see what it all meant. 

[Illustration: "Crazy Colin strode up the road, bearing Bert high uponhis shoulder. "--_Page 79. _]

The light from the kitchen streamed out upon the road, making a broadluminous path, up which the next moment strode Crazy Colin, bearing Berthigh upon his broad shoulders, while his swarthy countenance fairlyshone with a smile of pride and satisfaction that clearly showed he didnot need Uncle Alec's enthusiastic clappings on the back, and hearty"Well done, Colin! You're a trump!" to make him understand theimportance of what he had done. 

The two were at once surrounded by the overjoyed family. After givingher darling one passionate hug, Mrs. Lloyd took both of Crazy Colin'shands in hers, and, looking up into his beaming face, said, with a deepsincerity even his dull brain could not fail to appreciate: "God blessyou, Colin. I cannot thank you enough, but I'll be your friend forlife;" while the Squire, having blown his nose very vigorously on hisred silk handkerchief, grasped Colin by the arm, dragged him into thehouse, and ordered that the best the larder could produce should beplaced before him at once. It was a happy scene, and no one enjoyed itmore than did Crazy Colin himself. 

The exact details of the rescue of Bert were never fully ascertained;for, of course, poor Colin could not make them known, his range ofexpression being limited to his mere personal wants, and Bert himselfbeing able to tell no more than that while lying at the foot of thetree, and crying pretty vigorously, he heard a rustling among the treesthat sent a chill of terror through him, and then the sound of CrazyColin's talk with himself, which he recognised instantly. Forgetting allabout the fright Colin had given him a few days before, he shouted outhis name. Colin came to him at once, and seeming to understand thesituation at a glance, picked him up in his strong arms, flung him overhis shoulder, and strode off toward Maplebank with him as though he werea mere feather-weight and not a sturdy boy. Dark as it was, Colin neverhesitated, nor paused, except now and then to rest a moment, until hereached the red gate where Uncle Alec met him, and welcomed him sowarmly. 

Mrs. Lloyd did not think it wise nor necessary to say very much to Bertabout his disobedience. If ever there was a contrite, humbled boy, itwas he. He had learned a lesson that he would be long in forgetting. Asfor his tempter, Charlie Chisholm, he did not turn up until the nextmorning, having lost himself completely in his endeavour to get home;and it was only after many hours of wandering he found his way to anoutlying cabin of the backwoods settlement, where he was given shelterfor the night. 

CHAPTER X. 

BERT GOES TO SCHOOL. 

With the waning of summer came the time for Mrs. Lloyd to return to thecity. Both she and Bert felt very sorry to leave Maplebank, and thefamily there was unanimous in seeking to persuade her to allow Bert toremain for the winter. But this was not practicable, because, in thefirst place, Mr. Lloyd had been writing to say that he was quite tiredof being without his boy, and would like to have him back again as soonas was convenient; and, in the second place, Bert had reached the agewhen he ought to begin his schooling, and must return home for thatpurpose. 

So at length, after more than one postponement, the day of departurearrived. Grandmother and Aunt Martha, and Aunt Sarah, could not restraintheir tears, and big, kind Kitty was among the mourners too, as Bert andhis mother took their seat in the carriage beside the Squire and UncleAlec, to drive in to the village where the coach would be met. 

With many a promise to come back ere very long, and many a fond"Good-bye! God bless you, my darling!" the travellers started on theirhomeward journey. The village was reached in good time, the coach foundawaiting its passengers, the trunks safely stowed behind, the lastgood-bye to grandfather and Uncle Alec said, and then, amid cracking ofwhips and waving of handkerchiefs, the big coach rolled grandly off, andBert had really parted with dear, delightful Maplebank, where he hadspent such a happy summer. 

The homeward journey was a very pleasant one, and marked by no excitingincidents. Jack Davis was in his place on the box, and, recognising Bertwhen the passengers got out at the first change of horses, hailed himwith a hearty: "Holloa, youngster! Are you on board? Would you like tocome up on top with me again?"

It need hardly be said that Bert jumped at the invitation, and, hismother giving her consent, he rode on the box seat beside Davis thegreater part of the day as happy as a bird. The weather was perfect, itbeing a cool, bright day in early September, and Bert enjoyed very muchrecognising and recalling the different things that had particularlyinterested him on the way down. "Black Rory" was as lively as ever, andseemed determined to run away and dash everything to pieces as theystarted out from his stable, but calmed down again after a mile or two, as usual, and trotted along amiably enough the rest of his distance. 

It happened that Davis had no one on the outside with whom he cared totalk, so he gave a good deal of attention to Bert, telling him about thehorses and their peculiarities, and how they were in so many ways justlike people, and had to be humoured sometimes, and sometimes punished, and how it was, upon the whole, so much better to be kind than cruel tothem. 

"If your father ever lets you have a pony, Bert, " said Davis, "take myword for it it'll pay you to treat that ere pony like a brother. Justlet him know you're fond of him from the start; give him a lump of sugaror a crust of bread now and then--it's wonderful how fond horses are ofsuch things--and he'll follow you about just like a dog. Horses have gota good deal more human nature in 'em than folks generally give 'emcredit for, I can tell you, and I think I know what I am talking about, for I've had to do with them ever since I've been as big as you. "

Bert listened to this lecture with very lively interest, for his fatherhad more than once hinted at getting him a pony some day if he were agood boy, and showed he could be trusted with one. He confided his hopesto his friend, and received in return for the confidence a lot more ofgood advice, which need not be repeated here. 

The sun was setting as the coach drove up to the hotel at Thurso, whereMrs. Lloyd and Bert were to remain for the night, taking the train forHalifax the next morning. Bert felt quite sorry at parting with his bigfriend, the driver, and very gladly promised him that the next time hewas going to Maplebank he would try to manage so as to be going down onJack Davis' day that their friendship might be renewed. 

Both Bert and his mother were very glad to get to bed that night. Coaching is fine fun in fine weather, but it is fatiguing, nevertheless. You cannot ride all day in a coach without more or less backache, andBert was so sleepy that, but for his mother preventing him, he wouldhave flung himself upon his bed without so much as taking off his boots. He managed to undress all right enough, however, and then slept like atop until next morning. 

Bright and early they took the train, and by mid-day were at Halifax, where Mr. Lloyd and Mary received them with open arms and many a gladkiss. 

After allowing him a few days to settle down to home life again, thequestion of Bert's going to school was raised. He was now full eightyears of age, and quite old enough to make a beginning. His mother andsister had between them given him a good start in the "three R's" athome, for he was an apt pupil, and he was quite ready to enter a largersphere. 

At first his parents were somewhat undecided as to whether they wouldsend him to a school presided over by a woman or a man. It was usual inHalifax for those who preferred the private to the public schools tosend their boys for a year or two to a dame's school as a sort of easyintroduction to school life; and in the very same street as that inwhich the Lloyds lived there was such a school where two rather gauntand grim old-maid sisters aided one another in the application of primerand taws. To this institution Mrs. Lloyd thought it would be well forBert to go. His father had no very decided views to the contrary, but onBert himself being consulted, it became very clear that his mind wasquite made up. 

"Please don't send me to 'Old Goggles'' school, father, " pleaded he, earnestly. 

"'Old Goggles!' Why, Bert, what do you mean by calling Miss Poster bysuch a name as that?"

"It's most disrespectful, " interrupted his mother, with a very muchshocked expression, while Mr. Lloyd tried hard, but unsuccessfully, toconceal a smile beneath his moustache. 

"Well, mother, that's what they all call her, " explained Bert. 

"Even though they do, Bert, you should not. Miss Poster is a lady, andyou must act the gentleman toward her, " replied Mrs. Lloyd. "But whydon't you want to go to school there? Several boys about your own ageare going. "

"Oh, because a lot of girls go there, and I don't want to go to schoolwith girls, " was Master Bert's ungallant reply. 

Mr. Lloyd, who had evidently been much amused at the conversation, nowjoined in it by drawing Bert toward him and asking, in a half-serious, half-humorous tone:

"Is my boy Bert afraid of little girls?"

Bert's face flushed till it was crimson, and dropping his head upon hisbreast, he muttered:

"I'm not afraid of them, but I don't like 'em, and I don't want to go toschool with 'em. "

The fact of the matter was that Bert not only had his full share of therepugnance to the other sex common to all boys of his age, but he hadbesides a strong notion that it was not a manly thing to go to schoolwith girls, and if there was one thing more than another that he aspiredafter, it was manliness. 

Mr. Lloyd thoroughly understood his son's feelings, and felt disposed tohumour them. Accordingly, lifting up his head, he gave him a kiss on theforehead, saying:

"Very well, Bert; we'll see about it. Since you have such decidedobjections to Miss Goggles'--I beg her pardon, Miss Poster's--excellentestablishment, I will make inquiry, and see if I cannot find somethingthat will suit you better. I want you to like your school, and to takean interest in it. "

Bert's face fairly beamed at these words, and he heaved a huge sigh ofrelief which brought another smile out on his father's countenance. 

"You're such a good father, " said Bert, hugging his knees, and therethe matter dropped for a few days. 

When it came up again, Mr. Lloyd had a new proposition to make. In theinterval he had been making some inquiries, and had been recommended tosend his boy to a school just lately established by an accomplishedyoung lawyer, who had adopted that method of earning an honest pennywhile waiting for his practice to become more lucrative. It was a gooddeal of an experiment, Mr. Lloyd thought but possibly worth trying. 

Accordingly, one fine morning in October, behold Master Bert in a ratherperturbed frame of mind trotting along beside his father, who pretendednot to be aware of his son's feelings, although at the same time seekingin every way to divert him. But it was not with much success. Bert feltthoroughly nervous over the new experience that awaited him. He hadnever seen Mr. Garrison, who was to be his teacher, and imagined him asa tall, thin man with a long beard, a stern face, a harsh voice, and anever-ready "cat-o'-nine tails. " As for his future schoolmates, they wereno doubt a lot of rough, noisy chaps, that would be certain to "put himthrough a course of sprouts" before they would make friends with him. 

If, then, such thoughts as these filled Bert's mind, it must not bewondered at that he lagged a good deal both as to his talking andwalking, although he was always spry enough with both when out with hisfather. Much sooner than he wished they reached the building, a largerambling stone structure, only one room of which was occupied by theschool; they climbed the broad free-stone staircase to the upper storey, knocked at a door from behind which came a confused hum of voices, andbeing bidden "Come in, " entered a big room that at first seemed to Bertto be completely filled by a misty sea of faces with every eye turnedright upon him. He cowered before this curious scrutiny, and but for hisfather's restraining grasp would probably have attempted a wild dash forthe still unclosed door, when he heard his father saying:

"Good-morning, Mr. Garrison; I have brought my boy to place him in yourcare for a while, if you will have him as a pupil. " Looking up, Bertbeheld a person approaching very different from the schoolmaster of hisgloomy anticipations. 

Mr. Garrison was indeed tall, but there the similarity ended. He wasyouthful, slight, and very attractive in appearance, his manner beingexceedingly graceful and easy, as he came forward with a winning smileupon his countenance, and extending his right hand to Mr. Lloyd, placedthe other upon Bert's shoulder, and said, in a mellow, pleasant voice:

"Good-morning, Mr. Lloyd. I shall be very glad indeed to have your boyin my school, and if he is anything like as good a man as his father, he will make one of my very best pupils. "

Mr. Lloyd laughed heartily at this flattering remark. 

"Listen to that, Bert, " said he. "When you are in any doubt just how tobehave, you have only to ask yourself what I would do under the samecircumstances, and act accordingly. " Then, turning to Mr. Garrison, hesaid: "Perhaps you would like me to join your school, too, so as to seta good example to the other boys. "

"Right glad would I be to have you, Mr. Lloyd, " answered Mr. Garrison, with a cordial smile. "Many a time I find my boys almost too much forone man to handle. "

Bert, clinging fast to his father's hand, and half-hoping he was inearnest, felt a pang of disappointment when he replied:

"I'm afraid it's too late, Mr. Garrison. My school-days are past;except so far as I may be able to live them over with this little chaphere. I will leave him with you now; do your best with him. He can learnwell enough when he likes, but he is just as fond of fun as anyyoungster of his age. " Then giving Bert an affectionate pat on theshoulder, and whispering in his ear, "Now, be a man, Bert, " Mr. Lloydwent away, and Bert followed Mr. Garrison up to the desk, where hisname, age, and address were duly entered in the register book. 

The next business was to assign him a seat. A few questions as to whathe knew showed that his proper place was in the junior class of all, andthere accordingly Mr. Garrison led him. A vacancy was found for him in along range of seats, extending from the door almost up to the desk, andhe was bidden sit down beside a boy who had been eyeing him with livelycuriosity from the moment of his entrance into the room. So soon as Mr. Garrison went away, this boy opened fire upon the new-comer. 

"Say, sonny, whats yer name?" he asked, with unhesitating abruptness. 

Bert looked the questioner all over before replying. He was a short, stout, stubble-haired chap, evidently a year or two older than himself, with a broad, good-humoured face, and the inspection being, upon thewhole, satisfactory, Bert replied, very pleasantly:

"Bert Lloyd--and what's yours?"

Ignoring the question put to him, the other boy gave a sort of gruntthat might be taken as an expression of approval of his new schoolmate'sname, and then said:

"Guess you don't live down our way; never seen you before, that I knowof. "

"I live in Fort Street. Where do you live?" replied Bert, givingquestion for question. 

"I'm a West-ender, " said the other, meaning that his home was in thewestern part of the city. 

"But whats your name?" asked Bert again. 

"Oh, my name's Frank Bowser, " was the careless reply. "But everybodycalls me 'Shorty, ' and you may as well, too. "

"All right, " said Bert. And the two began to feel quite good friends atonce. 

As the morning passed, and Bert came to feel more at home, he took inthe details of his surroundings. Mr. Garrison's school consisted of somefifty boys, ranging in age from sixteen downward, Bert being about theyoungest of them all. They all belonged to the better class, and were, upon the whole, a very presentable lot of pupils. Scanning theircountenances curiously as they sat at their desks or stood up in rowsbefore the teacher to recite, Bert noticed more than one face that heinstinctively liked, and, being charmed with Mr. Garrison, and wellpleased with his new friend "Shorty, " his first impressions weredecidedly favourable. 

He had, of course, nothing to do that morning, save to look about him, but Mr. Garrison gave him a list of books to be procured, and lessons tobe learned in them before the school broke up for the day; and with thisin his pocket he went home in excellent spirits, to tell them all there, how well he had got on his first day in school. 

CHAPTER XI. 

SCHOOL LIFE AT MR. GARRISON'S. 

Bert had not been long at Mr. Garrison's school before he discoveredthat it was conducted on what might fairly be described as"go-as-you-please" principles. A sad lack of system was its chiefcharacteristic. He meant well enough by his pupils, and was constantlymaking spurts in the direction of reform and improvement, but as oftenfalling back into the old irregular ways. 

The fact of the matter was that he not only was not a schoolmaster byinstinct, but he had no intention of being one by profession. He hadsimply adopted teaching as a temporary expedient to tide over afinancial emergency, and intended to drop it so soon as his object wasaccomplished. His heart was in his profession, not in his school, andthe work of teaching was at best an irksome task, to be got through witheach day as quickly as possible. Had Mr. Lloyd fully understood this, hewould never have placed Bert there. But he did not; and, moreover, hewas interested in young Mr. Garrison, who had had many difficulties toencounter in making his way, and he wished to help him. 

In the first place, Mr. Garrison kept no record of attendance, either ofthe whole school, or of the different classes into which it was divided. A boy might come in an hour after the proper time, or be away for awhole day without either his lateness or his absence being observed. Asa consequence "meeching"--that is, taking a holiday without leave fromeither parents or teachers--was shamefully common. Indeed, there washardly a day that one or more boys did not "meech. " If by any chancethey were missed, it was easy to get out of the difficulty by makingsome excuse about having been sick, or mother having kept them at hometo do some work, and so forth. Schoolboys are always fertile in excuses, and, only too often, indifferent as to the quantity of truth these maycontain. 

Another curious feature of Mr. Garrison's system, or rather lack ofsystem, was that he kept no record of the order of standing in theclasses; and so, when the class in geography, for instance, was calledto recite, the boys would come tumbling pell-mell out of their seats, and crowd tumultuously to the space in front of the desk, with theinvariable result that the smaller boys would be sent to the bottom ofthe class, whether they deserved to be there or not. Then as to thehearing of the lesson, there was absolutely no rule about it. Sometimesthe questions would be divided impartially among the whole class. Sometimes they would all be asked of a single boy, and if he happened toanswer correctly, --which, however, was an extremely rareoccurrence, --the class would be dismissed without one of the othersbeing questioned. 

Another peculiarity of Mr. Garrison's was his going out on business foran hour or more at a time, and leaving the school in charge of one ofthe older boys, who would exercise the authority thus conferred upon himin a lax and kindly, or severe and cruel manner, according to hisdisposition. One of the boys generally chosen for this duty was a big, good-hearted fellow named Munro; another was an equally big, butsour-dispositioned chap named Siteman; and whenever Mr. Garrison showedsigns of going out, there was always intense excitement among the boys, to see who would be appointed monitor, and lively satisfaction, or deepdisappointment, according to the choice made. 

It was a little while, of course, before Bert found all this out, and inthe meantime he made good headway in the school, because his father tookcare that his lessons were well learned every evening before he went tobed; and Mr. Garrison soon discovered that whoever else might fail, there was one boy in Bert's classes that could be depended upon for aright answer, and that was Bert himself. 

There was another person who noticed Bert's ready accuracy, and that was"Shorty" Bowser. 

"Say, Bert, " said he one day, "how is that you always have your lessonsdown so fine? You never seem to trip up at all. "

"Because father always sees that I learn 'em, " answered Bert. "If Idon't learn 'em in the evening, I've got to do it before breakfast inthe morning. "

"I wish my dad 'ud do as much for me; but he don't seem to care a centwhether I ever learn 'em or not, " said poor Shorty, ruefully. For he waspretty sure to miss two out of every three questions asked him, and Mr. Garrison thought him one of his worst scholars. 

"Won't your mother help you, then?" asked Bert, with interest. 

"Got no mother, " was the reply, while Shorty's eyes shone suspiciously. "Mother's been dead this good while. "

"Oh, I'm so sorry, " said Bert, in tones of genuine sympathy that wentright to Frank Bowser's heart, and greatly strengthened the liking hehad felt from the first for his new schoolmate. 

It was not long before he gave proof of what he thought of Bert in avery practical way. They were for the most part in the same classes, andit soon became evident that Shorty felt very proud of his friend'saccuracy at recitation. That he should remain at the foot while Bertworked his way up steadily toward the head of the class, did not arousethe slightest feeling of jealousy in his honest heart; but, on thecontrary, a frank admiration that did him infinite credit. 

But it was just the other way with Bob Brandon, an overgrown, lanky boy, who seemed to have taken a dislike to Bert from the first, and seizedevery opportunity of acting disagreeably toward him. Being so muchsmaller, Bert had to endure his slights as best he could, but he foundit very hard, and particularly so that Bob should prevent him fromgetting his proper place in his class. Again and again would Bert passBob, who, indeed, rarely knew his lessons; but so sure as the classreassembled, Bob would roughly shoulder his way toward the top and Bertwould have to take a lower position, unless Mr. Garrison happened tonotice what was taking place and readjusted matters, which, however, didnot often occur. 

This sort of thing had been going on for some time, until at last oneday Bert felt so badly over it that when he went back to his seat heburied his head in his hands and burst out crying, much to the surpriseof Shorty, who at once leaned over and asked, with much concern:

"What's the matter, Bert? Missed your lesson?"

Bert checked his tears and told his trouble. 

"Sho! that's what's the matter, hey? I guess I'll fix Bob as sure as myname's Bowser. "

"What'll you do?" asked Bert. "Tell the master?"

"No, sir. No tattling for me, " replied Shorty, vigorously. "I'll justpunch his head for him, see if I don't. "

And he was as good as his word. Immediately after the dismissal of theschool, while the boys still lingered on the playground, Shorty stalkedup to Bob Brandon, and told him if he didn't stop shoving Bert Lloyd outof his proper place in the classes he would punch his head. Whereat BobBrandon laughed contemptuously, and was rewarded with a blow on the facethat fairly made him stagger. Then, of course, there was a fight, theboys forming a ring around the combatants, and Bert holding hischampion's coat and hat, and hardly knowing whether to cry or to cheer. The fight did not last long. Bob was the taller, but Frank the stouterof the two. Bob, like most bullies, was a coward, but Frank was asplucky as he was strong. Burning with righteous wrath, Frank went at hisopponent hammer and tongs, and after a few minutes' ineffective parryingand dodging, the latter actually ran out of the ring, thoroughly beaten, leaving Frank in possession of the field, to receive the applause of hiscompanions, and particularly of Bert, who gave him a warm hug, sayinggratefully:

"Dear, good Shorty. I'm so glad you beat him. "

That fight united the two boys in firmer bonds of friendship than ever, especially as it proved quite effective so far as Bob Brandon wasconcerned, as he needed no other lesson. It was curious how Bert andFrank reacted upon one another. At first the influence proceeded mainlyfrom Bert to Frank, the latter being much impressed by his friend'sattention to his lessons and good behaviour in school, and somewhatstirred up to emulate these virtues. But after Bert had been going tothe school for some little time, and the novelty had all worn off, hebegan to lose some of his ardour and to imitate Frank's happy-go-luckycarelessness. Instead of being one of the first boys in the school of amorning, he would linger and loiter on the playground until he would beamong those who were the last to take their places. He also began totake less interest in his lessons, and in his standing in the classes, and but for the care exercised at home would have gone to school veryill prepared. 

Frank Bowser was not by any means a bad boy. He had been carelesslybrought up, and was by nature of rather a reckless disposition, but hegenerally preferred right to wrong, and could, upon the whole, betrusted to behave himself under ordinary circumstances, at all events. His influence upon Bert, while it certainly would not help him much, would not harm him seriously. He did get him into trouble one day, however, in a way that Bert was long in forgetting. 

The winter had come, and over in one corner of the playground was aslide of unusual length and excellence, upon which the Garrison boys hadfine times every day before and after school. Coming up one morningearly, on purpose to enjoy this slide, Bert was greatly disappointed tofind it in possession of a crowd of roughs from the upper streets, whoclearly intended to keep it all to themselves so long as they pleased. While Bert, standing at a safe distance, was watching the usurpers withlonging eyes, Shorty came up, and, taking in the situation, said:

"Let 'em alone, Bert; I know of another slide just as good, a couple ofsquares off. Let's go over there. "

"But, isn't it most school time?" objected Bert. 

"Why, no, " replied Shorty. "There's ten minutes yet. Come along. " Andthus assured, Bert complied. 

The slide was farther away than Shorty had said, but proved to be verygood when they did reach it, and they enjoyed it so much that the timeslipped away unheeded, until presently the town clock on the hill abovethem boomed out ten, in notes of solemn warning. 

"My sakes!" exclaimed Bert, in alarm. "There's ten o'clock. What will wedo?"

"Guess we'd better not go to school at all. Mr. Garrison will never missus, " suggested Shorty. 

"Do you mean to meech?" asked Bert, with some indignation. 

"That's about it, " was the reply. "What's the harm?"

"Why, you know it ain't right; I'm not going to do it if you are. " AndBert really meant what he said. 

But, as luck would have it, on their way back to the school, what shouldthey meet but that spectacle, one of the most attractive of the winter'ssights in the eyes of a Halifax schoolboy, a fireman's sleigh drive. Driving gaily along the street, between lines of spectators, came sleighafter sleigh, drawn by four, six, or even eight carefully matched andbrightly decked horses, and filled to overflowing with the firemen andtheir fair friends, while bands of music played merry tunes, to whichthe horses seemed to step in time. 

Bert and Shorty had of course to stop and see this fine sight, and itchanced that when it was about one-half passed, one of the big eighthorse teams got tangled up with a passing sleigh, and a scene ofconfusion ensued that took a good while to set right. When at length allwas straightened out, and the procession of sleighs had passed, Shortyasked a gentleman to tell him the time. 

"Five minutes to eleven, my lad, " was the startling reply. 

Shorty looked significantly at Bert. "Most too late now, don't youthink?"

Bert hesitated. He shrank from the ordeal of entering the crowdedschoolroom, and being detected and punished by Mr. Garrison, in thepresence of all the others. Yet he felt that it would be better to dothat than not go to school at all--in other words, meech. 

"Oh, come along, Bert, " said Shorty; "old Garrison can do without usto-day. "

Still Bert stood irresolute. 

"Let's go down and see the big steamer that came in last night, "persisted Shorty, who was determined not to go to school, and to keepBert from going too. 

Yielding more to Shorty's influence than to the attraction of thesteamer, Bert gave way, and spent the rest of the morning playing about, until it was the usual time for going home. 

He said nothing at home about what he had done, and the next morningwent back to school, hoping, with all his heart, that his absence hadnot been noted, and that no questions would be asked. 

But it was not to be. 

Soon after the opening of the school when all were assembled and quietobtained, Mr. Garrison sent a thrill of expectation through the boys bycalling out, in severe tones, while his face was clouded with anger:

"Frank Bowser and Cuthbert Lloyd come to the desk. "

With pale faces and drooping heads the boys obeyed, Frank whispering inBert's ear as they went up:

"Tell him you were kept at home. "

Trembling in every nerve, the two culprits stood before their teacher. Mr. Garrison was evidently much incensed. A spasm of reform had seizedhim. His eyes had been opened to the prevalence of "meeching, " and hedetermined to put a stop to it by making an example of the presentoffenders. He had missed them both from school the day before, andsuspected the cause. 

"Young gentlemen, " said he, in his most chilling tones, "you were absentyesterday. Have you any reason to give?"

Frank without answering looked at Bert, while the whole school heldtheir breath in suspense. Bert remained silent. It was evident that asharp struggle was going on within. Becoming impatient, Mr. Garrisonstruck the desk with his hands, and said, sternly:

"Answer me this moment. Have you any excuse?"

With a quick, decided movement, Bert lifted his head, and lookingstraight into Mr. Garrison's face with his big brown eyes, said, clearly:

"No, sir. I meeched. "

Quite taken aback by this frank confession, Mr. Garrison paused amoment, and then, turning to Frank, asked:

"And how about you, sir?"

Without lifting his head, Frank muttered, "I meeched, too, " in tonesaudible only to his questioner. 

So pleased was Mr. Garrison with Bert's honesty, that he would have beenglad to let him off with a reprimand; but the interests of gooddiscipline demanded sterner measures. Accordingly, he called to one ofhis monitors:

"Munro, will you please go over to the Acadian School and get thestrap?"

For be it known that Mr. Garrison shared the ownership of a strap withhis brother, who taught a school in an adjoining block, and had to sendfor it when a boy was to be punished. 

While Munro was gone, Bert and Frank stood before the desk, both feelingdeeply their position, and dreading what was yet to come. When Munroreturned, bearing the strap--a business-like looking affair, about twofeet in length--Mr. Garrison laid it on the desk, and seemed veryreluctant to put it in use. At length, overcoming his disinclination, herose to his feet, and, taking it up, said:

"Cuthbert Lloyd, come forward!"

Bert, his head drooping upon his breast, and his face flushed and paleby turns, moved slowly forward. Grasping the strap, Mr. Garrison raisedit to bring it down upon Bert's outstretched hand, when suddenly athought struck him that brought a look of immense relief to hiscountenance, and he arrested the movement. Turning to the boys, who werewatching him with wondering eyes, he said:

"Boys, I ask for your judgment. If Bert and Frank say, before you all, that they are sorry for what they have done, and will promise never todo it again, may I not relieve them of the whipping?"

A hearty and unanimous chorus of "Yes, sir, " "Yes, sir, " came from theschool at once. 

"Now, my lads, do you hear that?" continued Mr. Garrison in a kindlytone, turning to the two offenders. "Will you not say you are sorry, andwill never meech again. "

"I am sorry, and promise never to do so again, " said Bert, in a cleardistinct voice, as the tears gathered in his eyes. 

"I'm sorry, and won't do it again, " echoed Frank, in a lower tone. 

"That's right, boys, " said Mr. Garrison, his face full of pleasure. "Iam sure you mean every word of it. Go to your seats now, and we willresume work. "

It took the school some little time to settle down again after thisunusual and moving episode, the effect of which was to raise both Mr. Garrison and Bert a good deal higher in the estimation of every onepresent, and to put a check upon the practice of "meeching" that wentfar toward effecting a complete cure. 

Although the result had been so much better than he expected, Bert felthis disgrace keenly, and so soon as he got home from school he told thewhole story from the start to his mother, making no excuses for himself, but simply telling the truth. 

His mother, of course, was very much surprised and pained, but knew wellthat her boy needed no further reproaches or censure to realise the fullextent of his wrong-doing. Bidding him, therefore, seek forgiveness ofGod as well as of her, she said that she would tell his father all aboutit, which was a great relief to Bert, who dreaded lest he should have toperform this trying task himself; and so the matter rested for thetime. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A QUESTION OF INFLUENCE. 

When Mr. Lloyd heard the story of Bert's "meeching, " it was evident thatit hurt him sorely. He was quite prepared for a reasonable amount ofwaywardness in his boy, but this seriously exceeded his expectations. Hecould not, of course, put himself exactly in Bert's place, and he wasinclined to think him guilty of far more deliberate wrong than poor Berthad for a moment contemplated. 

Then, again, he was much puzzled as to what should be done withreference to Frank Bowser. He had evidently been Bert's tempter, andBert ought, perhaps, to be forbidden to have any more to do with himthan he could possibly help. On the other hand, if Bert were to beinterdicted from the companionship of his schoolmates, how would he everlearn to take care of himself among other dangerous associations? Thiswas a lesson he must learn some day. Should he not begin now?

So Mr. Lloyd was not a little bewildered, and his talk with Bert didnot give him much light; for while Bert, of course, was thoroughlypenitent and ready to promise anything, what he had to tell about Frankwas simply how good-natured and generous and plucky he was, and soforth. 

The three of them, father, mother, and sister, held a consultation overthe matter that night after Bert had gone to bed. 

"I wish I felt more sure as to what is the wisest thing to do, " said Mr. Lloyd. "We can't keep Bert in a glass case, and yet it seems as if weshould do our best to protect him from every evil influence. I wouldlike to know more about that Bowser boy. "

"Bert tells me he has no mother, " said Mrs. Lloyd, in sympathetic tones, "and from what he says himself, his father does not seem to take muchinterest in him. Poor boy! he cannot have much to help him at thatrate. "

"He's a good, sturdy little chap, " put in Mary. "He came down fromschool with Bert one day. He seems very fond of him. "

"Well, what had we better do?" asked Mr. Lloyd. "Forbid Bert to make acompanion of him, or say nothing about it, and trust Bert to come outall right?"

"I feel as though we ought to forbid Bert, " answered Mrs. Lloyd. "FrankBowser's influence cannot help him much, and it may harm him a gooddeal. "

"Suppose you put that the other way, mother, " spoke up Mary, her faceflushing under the inspiration of the thought that had just occurred toher. "Frank Bowser has no help at home, and Bert has. Why, then, not saythat Bert's influence cannot harm Frank, and it may help him a gooddeal?"

"Mary, my dear, " exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, bending over to pat heraffectionately on the shoulder, "that's a brilliant idea of yours. You're right. Bert should help Frank, and not let Frank harm him. Wemust make Bert understand that clearly, and then there will be nothingto fear. "

And so the consultation closed, with Mary bearing off the honours ofhaving made the best suggestion. 

It was acted upon without delay. Calling Bert to him next morning whilethey were awaiting breakfast, Mr. Lloyd laid the matter before him:

"Bert, " said he, kindly, "we were talking about you last night, andwondering whether we ought to forbid your making a companion of FrankBowser. What do you think?"

"Oh, father, don't do that, " answered Bert, looking up with a startledexpression. "He's been so good to me. You remember how he served BobBrandon for shoving me down in class?"

"Yes, Bert; but I'm afraid he's leading you into mischief, and that isnot the sort of companion I want for you. "

Bert dropped his head again. He had no answer ready this time. 

"But then there are always two sides to a question, Bert, " continued Mr. Lloyd, while Bert pricked up his ears hopefully. "Why should you nothelp Frank to keep out of mischief, instead of his leading you into it?What do you say to that?"

Bert did not seem quite to understand, so his father went on:

"Don't you see, Bert? You must either help Frank to be better, or hewill cause you to be worse. Now, which is it to be?"

Bert saw it clearly now. 

"Why, father, " he cried, his face beaming with gladness at this new turnto the situation, "I'll do my best to be a good boy, and I know Shortywill, too, for he always likes to do what I do. "

"Very well then, Bert, " said Mr. Lloyd, "that's a bargain. And now, suppose you invite Frank, or 'Shorty, ' as you call him, to spend nextSaturday afternoon with you, and take tea with us. "

"Oh, father, that will be splendid, " cried Bert, delightedly. "We cancoast in the fort all the afternoon and have fun in the evening. I'msure Shorty will be so glad to come. "

The question thus satisfactorily settled, Bert took his breakfast, andwent off to school in high glee and great impatience to see Frank, forthe invitation he bore for him fairly burned in his mouth, so to speak. 

As he expected, Frank needed no pressing to accept it. He did not getmany invitations, poor chap! and the prospect of an afternoon at Bert'shome seemed very attractive to him. He did enjoy himself thoroughly, too, even if he was so shy and awkward that Mrs. Lloyd and Mary wereafraid to say very much to him; he seemed to find it so hard to answerthem. 

But Mr. Lloyd got on much better with him. Although his boyhood was agood way in the past, he kept its memories fresh, and could enterheartily into the discussion of any of the sports the younger generationdelighted in. He knew all the phrases peculiar to baseball, cricket, marbles, and so forth, and fairly astonished Frank by his intimateknowledge of those amusements, so that ere long Frank, without knowingjust how it happened, was chatting away as freely as though he were outon the Garrison playground instead of being in Mr. Lloyd's parlour. 

Having once got him well started, Mr. Lloyd led him on to talk abouthimself and his home, and his way of spending his time, and thus learneda great deal more about him than he had yet known. One fact that helearned pointed out a way in which Bert's influence could be exerted forgood at once. Frank attended no Sunday school. He went to churchsometimes, but not very often, as his father took little interest inchurch-going, but he never went to Sunday school; in fact, he had notbeen there for years. Mr. Lloyd said nothing himself on the subject toFrank. He thought it better to leave it all to Bert. 

After Frank had gone, leaving behind him a very good impression upon thewhole, Mr. Lloyd told Bert of the opportunity awaiting him. 

"Wouldn't you like to ask Frank to go with you to Sunday school, Bert?"he inquired. 

"Of course, I would, father, " replied Bert, promptly; "and I'm sure he'dgo, too, and that Mr. Silver would be very glad to have him in ourclass. "

When Bert, however, came to talk to Frank about it, he found him notquite so willing to go as he had been to accept the invitation forSaturday. 

"I'm not anxious to go to Sunday school, Bert, " said he. "I shan't knowanybody there but you, and it'll be awfully slow. "

"But you'll soon get to know plenty of people, " urged Bert; "and Mr. Silver is so nice. "

And so they argued, Frank holding back, partly because his shyness madehim shrink from going into a strange place, and partly because, havingbeen accustomed to spend his Sunday afternoons pretty much as hepleased, he did not like the idea of giving up his liberty. But Bert wastoo much in earnest to be put off. The suggestion of his father that heshould try to do Frank some good had taken strong hold upon his mind, and he urged, and pleaded, and argued until, at last, Frank gave way, and promised to try the Sunday school for a while, at any rate. 

Bert reported the decision at home with much pride and satisfaction. Hehad no doubt that when once Frank found out what a pleasant place theSunday school was, and how kind and nice Mr. Silver--his teacherthere--was, he would want to go every Sunday. 

The Sunday school of Calvary Baptist Church certainly had about aspleasant and cheery quarters as could be desired. For one thing, it wasnot held in a damp, dark, unventilated basement as so many Sundayschools are. 

And, oh, what a shame--what an extraordinary perversion of sense thiscondemning of the children to the cellars of the churches is! Just asthough anything were good enough for them, when in them lies the hope ofthe Church, and every possible means should be employed to twine theiryoung affections about it! But these words do not apply to the CalvarySunday School, for it was not held in a dingy basement, but in aseparate building that united in itself nearly every good quality suchan edifice should possess. It was of ample size, full of light and air, had free exposure to the sunshine, and was so arranged that everyconvenience was offered for the work of the school. Around the centralhall were arranged rooms for the Bible classes, the infant class, andthe library, so planned that by throwing up sliding doors they becamepart of the large room. The walls were hung with pictures illustratingBible scenes, and with mottoes founded upon Bible texts; and finally, the benches were of a special make that was particularly comfortable. 

All this was quite a revelation to Frank when, after some littlecoaxing, Bert brought him to the school. His conception of a Sundayschool was of going down into a gloomy basement, and being lecturedabout the Bible by a severe old man with a long grey beard. Instead ofthat, he found himself in one of the brightest rooms he had ever seen, and receiving a cordial welcome from a handsome young gentleman, to whomBert had just said:

"This is my friend Frank, Mr. Silver. He's going to come to school withme after this. "

"Very glad indeed to have you, Frank, " said Mr. Silver, giving him awarm grasp of the hand. "Sit right down with Bert, and make yourself athome. "

And Frank sat down, so surprised and pleased with everything as to behalf inclined to wonder if he was not dreaming. Then the fine singing, as the whole school, led by an organ and choir, burst forth into song, the bright pleasant remarks of the superintendent, Mr. Hamilton, Bert'sideal of a "Christian soldier, " and the simple earnest prayeroffered, --all impressed Frank deeply. 

No less interesting did he find Mr. Silver's teaching of the lesson. Mr. Silver attached great importance to his work in the Sunday school. Nothing was permitted to interfere with thorough preparation for it, andhe always met his class brimful of information, illustration, andapplication, bearing upon the passage appointed for the day. And notonly so, but by shrewd questioning and personal appeal he sent theprecious words home to his young hearers and fixed them deep in theirmemories. He was a rare teacher in many respects, and Bert was very fondof him. Frank did not fail to be attracted by him. As he and Bert leftthe school together, Bert asked:

"Well, Frank, how do you like my Sunday school?"

"First rate, " replied Frank, heartily. "Say, but isn't Mr. Silver nice?Seems as though I'd known him for ever so long instead of just to-day. "

"Guess he is nice, " said Bert. "He's just the best teacher in theschool. You'll come every Sunday now, won't you, Frank?"

"I think so, " answered Frank; "I might just as well be going there asloafing about on Sunday afternoon doing nothing. "

Mr. Lloyd was very much pleased when he heard of Bert's success ingetting Frank to the Sunday school. He recognised in Bert many of thosequalities which make a boy a leader among his companions, and his desirewas that his son's influence should always tell for that which wasmanly, pure, and upright. To get him interested in recruiting for theSunday school was a very good beginning in church work, and Mr. Lloydfelt thankful accordingly. 

Neither was he alone in feeling pleased and thankful. Mr. John Bowser, Frank's father, although he showed great indifference to both theintellectual and moral welfare of his boy, was, nevertheless, notopposed to others taking an interest in him. He cared too little abouteither church or Sunday school to see that Frank was a regularattendant. But he was very willing that somebody else should take aninterest in the matter. Moreover, he felt not a little complacency overthe fact that his son was chosen as a companion by Lawyer Lloyd's son. Engrossed as he was in the making of money, a big, burly, gruff, uncultured contractor, he found time somehow to acquire a great respectfor Mr. Lloyd. He thought him rather too scrupulous and straightforwarda man to be _his_ lawyer, but he admired him greatly, nevertheless; and, although he said nothing about it, secretly congratulated himself uponthe way things were going. He had little idea that the circle ofinfluence Bert had unconsciously started would come to include himbefore its force would be spent. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

BERT AT HOME. 

It was an article of faith in the Lloyd family that there was not ahouse in Halifax having a pleasanter situation than theirs, and theycertainly had very good grounds for their belief. Something has alreadybeen told about its splendid view of the broad harbour, furrowed withwhite-capped waves, when of an afternoon the breeze blew in smartly fromthe great ocean beyond; of its snug security from northern blasts; ofthe cosy nook it had to itself in a quiet street; and of its ampleexposure to the sunshine. But, perhaps, the chief charm of all was theold fort whose grass-grown casemates came so close to the foot of thegarden, that ever since Bert was big enough to jump, he had cherished awild ambition to leap from the top of the garden fence to the level topof the nearest casemate. 

This old fort, with its long, obsolete, muzzle-loading thirty-twopounders, was associated with Bert's earliest recollection. His nursehad carried him there to play about in the long, rank grass underneaththe shade of the wide-spreading willows that crested the seaward slopebefore he was able to walk; and ever since, summer and winter, he hadfound it his favourite playground. 

The cannons were an unfailing source of delight to him. Mounted highupon their cumbrous carriages, with little pyramids of round iron ballsthat would never have any other use than that of ornament lying besidethem, they made famous playthings. He delighted in clambering up andsitting astride their smooth, round bodies as though they were horses;or in peering into the mysterious depths of their muzzles. Indeed, oncewhen he was about five years old he did more than peer in. He tried tocrawl in, and thereby ran some risk of injury. 

He had been playing ball with some of the soldier's children, and seemedso engrossed in the amusement that his mother, who had taken him intothe fort, thought he might very well be left for a while, and so shewent off some little distance to rest in quiet, in a shady corner. Shehad not been there more than a quarter of an hour, when she was startledby the cries of the children, who seemed much alarmed over something;and hastening back to where she had left Bert, she beheld a sight thatwould have been most ludicrous if it had not been so terrifying. 

Protruding from the mouth of one of the cannons, and kicking veryvigorously, were two sturdy, mottled legs that she instantly recognisedas belonging to her son, while from the interior came strange muffledsounds that showed the poor little fellow was screaming in direaffright, as well he might in so distressing a situation. Too young tobe of any help, Bert's playmates were gathered about him crying lustily, only one of them having had the sense to run off to the carpenter's shopnear by to secure assistance. 

[Illustration: "Fortunately, a big soldier came along, and, slippingboth hands as far up on Bert's body as he could reach, with a strong, steady pull drew him out of the cannon. "--_Page_ 119. ]

Mrs. Lloyd at once grasped Bert's feet and strove to pull him out, butfound it no easy matter. In his efforts to free himself he had onlystuck the more firmly, and was now too securely fastened for Mrs. Lloydto extricate him. Fortunately, however, a big soldier came along at thisjuncture, and, slipping both hands as far up on Bert's body as he couldreach, grasped him firmly, and with one strong, steady pull, drew himout of the cannon. 

When he got him out, Bert presented so comical a spectacle that hisstalwart rescuer had to lay him down and laugh until the tears rolleddown his cheeks. Mrs. Lloyd, too, relieved from all anxiety, and feelinga reaction from her first fright, could not help following his example. His face, black with grime, which was furrowed with tears, his handseven blacker, his nice clothes smutched and soiled, and indeed, hiswhole appearance suggested a little chimney-sweep that had forgotten toput on his working clothes before going to business. Bert certainly wasenough to make even the gravest laugh. 

Beyond a bruise or two, he was, however, not a whit the worse for hiscurious experience, which had come about in this way:--While they wereplaying with the ball, one of the children had, out of mischief, pickedit up and thrown it into the cannon, where it had stayed. They tried toget it out by means of sticks, but could not reach it. Then Bert, alwaysplucky and enterprising to the verge of rashness, undertook to go afterthe ball himself. The other boys at once joined forces to lift him upand push him into the dark cavern, and then alarmed by his cries andunavailing struggles to get out again, began to cry themselves, and thusbrought Mrs. Lloyd to the scene. 

Mr. Lloyd was very much amused when he heard about Bert's adventure. 

"You've beaten Shakespeare, Bert, " said he, after a hearty laugh, asMrs. Lloyd graphically described the occurrence. "For Shakespeare says aman does not seek the bubble reputation in the cannon's mouth, until hebecomes a soldier, but you have found it, unless I am much mistaken, before you have fairly begun being a schoolboy. "

Bert did not understand the reference to Shakespeare, but he didunderstand that his father was not displeased with him, and that was amuch more important matter. The next Sunday afternoon, when they wentfor their accustomed stroll in the fort, Bert showed his father the biggun whose dark interior he had attempted to explore. 

"Oh, but father, wasn't I frightened when I got in there and couldn'tget out again!" said he earnestly, clasping his father's hand tightly, as the horror of the situation came back to him. 

"You were certainly in a tight place, little man, " answered Mr. Lloyd, "and the next time your ball gets into one of the cannons you had betterask one of the artillerymen to get it out for you. He will find it amuch easier job than getting you out. "

Bert loved the old fort and its cannons none the less because of hisadventure, and as he grew older he learned to drop down into it from thegarden fence, and climb back again, with the agility of a monkey. Thegarden itself was not very extensive, but Bert took a great deal ofpleasure in it, too, for he was fond of flowers--what true boy, indeed, is not?--and it contained a large number within its narrow limits, therebeing no less than two score rose bushes of different varieties, forinstance. The roses were very plenteous and beautiful when in theirprime, but at opposite corners of the little garden stood two trees thathad far more interest for Bert than all the rose trees put together. These were two apple trees, planted, no one knew just how or when, whichhad been allowed to grow up at their own will, without pruning orgrafting, and, as a consequence, were never known to produce fruit thatwas worth eating. Every spring they put forth a brave show of pink andwhite blossoms, as though this year, at all events, they were going todo themselves credit, and every autumn the result appeared inhalf-a-dozen hard, small, sour, withered-up apples that hardly deservedthe name. And yet, although these trees showed no signs of repentanceand amendment, Bert, with the quenchless hopefulness of boyhood, neverquite despaired of their bringing forth an apple that he could eatwithout having his mouth drawn up into one tight pucker. Autumn afterautumn he would watch the slowly developing fruit, trusting for thebest. It always abused his confidence, however, but it was a long timebefore he finally gave it up in despair. 

At one side of the garden stood a neat little barn that was also ofspecial interest to Bert, for, besides the stall for the cow, there wasanother, still vacant, which Mr. Lloyd had promised should have a ponyfor its tenant so soon as Bert was old enough to be trusted with such aplaymate. 

Hardly a day passed that Bert did not go into the stable, and, standingby the little stall, wonder to himself how it would look with a prettypony in it. Of course, he felt very impatient to have the pony, but Mr. Lloyd had his own ideas upon that point, and was not to be moved fromthem. He thought that when Bert was ten years old would be quite timeenough, and so there was nothing to do but to wait, which Bert did, withas much fortitude as he could command. 

Whatever might be the weather outside, it seemed always warm and sunnyindoors at Bert's home. The Lloyds lived in an atmosphere of love, bothhuman and Divine. They loved one another dearly, but they loved Godstill more, and lived close to Him. Religion was not so much expressedas implied in their life. It was not in the least obtrusive, yet onecould never mistake their point of view. Next to its sincerity, thestrongest characteristic of their religion was its cheeriness. They sawno reason why the children of the King should go mourning all theirdays; on the contrary, was it not rather their duty, as well as theirprivilege, to establish the joy of service?

Brought up amid such influences, Bert was, as a natural consequence, entirely free from those strange misconceptions of the true character ofreligion which keep so many of the young out of the kingdom. He sawnothing gloomy or repellent in religion. That he should love and serveGod seemed as natural to him as that he should love and serve hisparents. Of their love and care he had a thousand tokens daily. Of theDivine love and care he learned from them, and that they should believein it was all the reason he required for his doing the same. He asked nofurther evidence. 

There were, of course, times when the spirit of evil stirred within him, and moved him to rebel against authority, and to wish, as he put ithimself one day when reminded of the text, "Thou God seest me, " that"God would let him alone for a while, and not be always looking at him. "But then he wasn't an angel by any means, but simply a hearty, healthy, happy boy, with a fair share of temper, and as much fondness for havinghis own way as the average boy of his age. 

His parents were very proud of him. They would have been queer parentsif they were not. Yet they were careful to disguise it from him as faras possible. If there was one thing more than another that Mr. Lloyddisliked in children, and, therefore, dreaded for his boy, it was thatforward, conscious air which comes of too much attention being paid themin the presence of their elders. "Little folks should be seen and notheard, " he would say kindly but firmly to Bert, when that young personwas disposed to unduly assert himself, and Bert rarely failed to takethe hint. 

One trait of Bert's nature which gave his father great gratification washis fondness for reading. He never had to be taught to read. He learned, himself. That is, he was so eager to learn that so soon as he hadmastered the alphabet, he was always taking his picture books to hismother or sister, and getting them to spell the words for him. In thisway he got over all his difficulties with surprising rapidity, and atfive years of age could read quite easily. As he grew older, he showedrather an odd taste in his choice of books. One volume that he read fromcover to cover before he was eight years old was Layard's "Nineveh. "Just why this portly sombre-hued volume, with its winged lion stamped ingold upon its back, attracted him so strongly, it would not be easy tosay. The illustrations, of course, had something to do with it, and thenthe fascination of digging down deep into the earth and bringing forthall sorts of strange things no doubt influenced him. 

Another book that held a wonderful charm for him was the Book ofRevelation. So carefully did he con this, which he thought the mostglorious of all writings, that at one time he could recite many chaptersof it word for word. Its marvellous imagery appealed to his imaginationif it did nothing more, and took such hold upon his mind that no part ofthe Bible, not even the stories that shine like stars through the firstbooks of the Old Testament, was more interesting to him. 

Not only was Bert's imagination vivid, but his sympathies were also veryquick and easily aroused. It was scarcely safe to read to him a pathetictale, his tears were so certain to flow. The story of Gellert's hound, faithful unto death, well-nigh broke his heart, and that perfect pearl, "Rab and His Friends, " bedewed his cheeks, although he read it again andagain until he knew it almost by heart. 

No one ever laughed at his tenderness of heart. He was not taught thatit was unmanly for a boy to weep. It is an easy thing to chill andharden an impressionable nature. It is not so easy to soften it again, or to bring softness to one that is too hard for its own good. 

With such a home, Bert Lloyd could hardly fail to be a happy boy, and noone that knew him would ever have thought of him as being anything else. He had his dull times, of course. What boy with all his faculties hasnot? And he had his cranky spells, too. But neither the one nor theother lasted very long, and the sunshine soon not only broke through theclouds, but scattered them altogether. Happy are those natures not givento brooding over real or fancied troubles. Gloom never mends matters: itcan only make them worse. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

AN HONOURABLE SCAR. 

Bert was not learning very much at Mr. Garrison's school. He had someglimmering of this himself, for he said to Frank one day, after they hadreturned to their seats from having gone through the form--for really itwas nothing more--of saying one of their lessons:

"It's mighty easy work getting through lessons at this school, isn't it, Shorty?" And Shorty, being of the same opinion, as he had happened notto be asked any questions, and, therefore, had not made any mistakes, promptly assented. 

"That's so, Bert, " said he, "and the oftener he asks Munro and you tosay the whole lesson, and just gives me the go-by, the better I likeit. "

But Bert was not the only one who noticed that his education was notmaking due progress. His father observed it too, and, after somethinking on the subject, made up his mind that he would allow Bert tofinish the spring term at Mr. Garrison's, and then, after the summerholidays, send him to some other school. 

The winter passed away and spring drew near. Spring is the most dilatoryand provoking of all the seasons at Halifax. It advances and retreats, pauses and progresses, promises and fails to perform, until it reallyseems, sometimes, as though mid-summer would be at hand and no spring atall. With the boys it is a particularly trying time of the year. Thedaily increasing heat of the sun has played havoc with the snow and ice, and winter sports are out of the question. Yet the snow and ice--orrather the slush they make--still lingers on, and renders any kind ofsummer sport impossible. For nearly a month this unsatisfactory state ofaffairs continues, and then, at length, the wet dries up, the frostcomes out of the ground, the chill leaves the air, and marbles, rounders, baseball, and, later on, cricket make glad the hearts and tirethe legs of the eager boys. 

This spring was made memorable for Bert by an occurrence that left itsmark upon him, lest, perhaps, he might be in danger of forgetting it. Infront of the large building, in one room of which Mr. Garrison's schoolwas held, there was a large open square, known as the Parade. It was abare, stony place kept in order by nobody, and a great resort for theroughs of the city, who could there do pretty much what they pleasedwithout fear of interruption from the police. On the upper side of thissquare, and over toward the opposite end from Mr. Garrison's, wasanother school, called the National, and having a large number ofscholars, of a somewhat commoner class than those which attended Mr. Garrison's. It need hardly be said that the relations between the twoschools were, to use a diplomatic phrase, "chronically strained. " Theywere always at loggerheads. A Garrison boy could hardly encounter aNational boy without giving or getting a cuff, a matter determined byhis size, and riots, on a more or less extensive scale, were continuallytaking place when groups of boys representing the two schools wouldhappen to meet. 

Bert was neither quarrelsome nor pugnacious by nature. He disliked verymuch being on bad terms with anyone, and could not understand why heshould regard another boy as his natural enemy simply because hehappened to go to a different school. More than once he had quite anargument with Frank Bowser about it. Frank was always full of fight. Hehated every National boy as vigorously as though each one hadindividually done him some cruel injury. As sure as a collision tookplace, and Frank was present, he was in the thick of it at once, dealingblows right and left with all his might. 

In obedience to the dictation of his own nature, strengthened by hisfather's advice, Bert kept out of these squabbles so far as he possiblycould, and as a natural consequence fell under suspicion of being acoward. Even Frank began to wonder if he were not afraid, and if it werenot this which kept him back from active participation in the rows. Hesaid something about it to Bert one day, and it hurt Bert very much. 

"I'm not afraid, Shorty; you know well enough I'm not, " said he, indignantly. "But I'm not going to fight with fellows who never did meany harm. It's wrong, that's what it is, and I'm not going to do it. Idon't care what you say. "

"But you ought to chip in sometimes, Bert, or the boys will think thatyou're a coward, " urged Frank. 

"I can't help it if they do, Shorty, " was Bert's unshaken reply. "Idon't feel like it myself, and, what's more, father doesn't want me to. "

The very next day there was a row of unusual dimensions, brought aboutby one of the Garrison boys at the noon recess having started a fightwith one of the National boys, which almost in a twinkling of an eyeinvolved all the boys belonging to both schools then in the Parade. Itwas a lively scene, that would have gladdened the heart of an Irishmanhomesick for the excitement of Donnybrook Fair. There were at least onehundred boys engaged, the sides being pretty evenly matched, and thebattle ground was the centre of the Parade. To drive the other school inignominious flight from this spot was the object of each boyishregiment, and locked in hostile embrace, like the players in a footballmatch when a "maul" has been formed, they swayed to and fro, now oneside gaining, now the other, while shouts of "Go in, Nationals!" "Giveit to them, Garrisons!" mingling with exclamations of anger or pain, filled the air. 

Bert was not present when the struggle began. In fact, it was well underway before he knew anything about it, as he had lingered in theschoolroom to ask Mr. Garrison some question after the other boys hadrun out. On going out upon the Parade, he was at first startled by theuproar, and then filled with an intense desire to be in the midst of thebattle. But, remembering his father's injunctions, he paused for amoment irresolute. Then he noticed that the National boys were gainingthe advantage, and the Garrison boys retreating before them. The nextinstant he caught sight of Frank Bowser, who had, of course, been in theforefront of the fight, left unsupported by his comrades, and surroundedby a circle of threatening opponents. Bert hesitated no longer. With ashout of "Come on, boys!" he sprang down the steps, rushed across theintervening space, and flung himself into the group around Frank withsuch force that two of the Nationals were hurled to the ground, andFrank set at liberty. Inspirited by Bert's gallant onset, the Garrisonsreturned to the charge, the Nationals gave way before them, and Bert wasjust about to raise the shout of victory when a big hulk of a boy whohad been hovering on the outskirts of the Nationals, too cowardly tocome to any closer quarter, picked up a stone and threw it with wickedforce straight at Bert's face. His aim was only too good. With a sharpthud, the stone struck Bert on his left temple, just behind the eye, andthe poor boy fell to the ground insensible. 

Instantly the struggle and confusion ceased, but not before Frank, in apassion of fury, had dealt Bert's cowardly assailant a blow that senthim reeling to the ground, and had then sprung to his friend's side. 

"Get a doctor, some fellow, " he shouted, holding up the pale, calm face, down which the blood was trickling from an ugly wound. "Let's carry himinto the school!"

A dozen eager volunteers came forward. Carefully and tenderly Bert waslifted up, and carried into the schoolroom, which, fortunately, Mr. Garrison had not yet left. Placed upon one of the benches, with Frank'scoat for a pillow, his head was bathed with cold water, and presently herevived, much to the relief and delight of the anxious boys standinground. A few minutes later the doctor arrived. With quick, deft fingershe stanched the wound, covered it with plaster, enveloped it withbandages, and then gave directions that Bert should be sent home in acab without delay. 

"Why, Bert darling, what does this mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd, as sheopened the door for him. 

"Ask Frank, mother; my head's aching too bad to tell you, " repliedBert, putting up his hand with a gesture of pain. And so, while Bert layon the sofa, with his mother close beside him, and Mary preparing him arefreshing drink, Frank told the story in his own, rough, straightforward fashion, making it all so clear, with the help of a wordnow and then from Bert, that when he ended, Mrs. Lloyd, bending over herson, kissed him tenderly on the forehead, saying:

"You know, Bert, how I dislike fighting, but I cannot find it in myheart to blame you this time. You acted like a hero. "

In this opinion Mr. Lloyd, when he came home, fully concurred. He hadnot a word of blame for Bert, but made the boy's heart glad by tellinghim to always stand by his friends when they were in trouble, and thenhe would never be without friends who would stand by him. 

Bert's wound took some time to heal, and when it did heal, a scarremained that kept its place for many years after. But he did not sufferfor nought. The incident was productive of good in two directions. Itestablished Bert's character for courage beyond all cavil, and it put anend to the unseemly rows between the schools. The two masters held aconsultation, as a result of which they announced to their schools thatany boys found taking part in such disturbances in future would be firstpublicly whipped, and then expelled; and this threat put an effectualstop to the practice. 

The days and weeks slipped by, and the summer vacation, so eagerlylooked forward to by all schoolboys, arrived. None were more delightedat its arrival than Bert and Frank. Their friendship had grown steadilystronger from the day of their first acquaintance. They had fewdisagreements. Frank, although the older and larger of the two, let Berttake the lead in almost all cases, for Bert had the more active mind, and his plans were generally the better. Happily for the serenity oftheir relations, Bert, while he was fond enough of being the leader, never undertook to "boss" his companions. If they did not readily fallinto line with him, why he simply fell into line with them, and that wasan end of it. His idea of fun did not consist in being an autocrat, andordering others about. He very much preferred that all should worktogether for whatever common purpose happened to be in their minds atthe time; and thus it was, that of the boys who played together in theold fort, and waded in the shallow water that rippled along the sandbeach at its foot, no one was more popular than Bert Lloyd. 

They had fine fun during this summer vacation. Neither Frank nor Bertwent out of the city, and they played together every day, generally inthe fort; but sometimes Bert would go with Frank to the HorticulturalGardens, where a number of swings made a great attraction for the youngfolk, or down to the point where they would ramble through the woods, imagining themselves brave hunters in search of bears, and carrying bowsand arrows to help out the illusion. 

The greatest enjoyment of all, however, was to go out upon the water. Ofcourse, they were not allowed to do this by themselves. They were tooyoung for that yet, but very often Mr. Lloyd would leave his officeearly in the afternoon in order to take them out in the pretty skiff hekept at the fort, or the whole family would spend the long summerevenings together on the water. 

Bert was at his happiest then. Under his father's directions he wasvigorously learning to row, and it was very stimulating to have hismother and sister as spectators. They took such a lively interest in hisprogress, that he did not mind if they did laugh heartily, but of coursenot unkindly, when sometimes in his eagerness to take an extra bigstroke he would "catch a crab, " and roll over on his back in the bottomof the boat, with his feet stuck up like two signals of distress. Bertaccomplished this a good many times, but it did not discourage him. Hewas up and at it again immediately. 

"Don't look at your oar, boys! Don't look at your oar! Keep your facestoward the stern, " Mr. Lloyd would call out as Bert and Frank tuggedaway manfully, and they, who had been watching their oars to make surethat they went into the water just right, would answer "Ay, ay, sir!"in true sailor fashion; and then for the next few moments they wouldkeep their eyes fixed straight astern, only to bring them back againsoon to those dripping blades that had such a saucy way of gettingcrooked unless they were well watched. 

A more delightful place than Halifax harbour of a fine summer eveningcould hardly be desired. The wind, which had been busy making "whitecaps" all the afternoon, went to rest at sundown. The ruffled waterssank into a glassy calm, the broad harbour becoming one vast mirror inwhich the rich hues of the sunset, the long dark lines of the wharves, and the tall masts of the ships sleeping at their moorings werereflected with many a quaint curve and curious involution. Boats ofevery kind, the broad-bottomed dory, the sharp-bowed flat, the trimkeel-boat, the long low whaler, with their jolly companies, dotted theplacid surface, while here and there a noisy steam launch saucily puffedits way along, the incessant throb of its engine giving warning of itsapproach. Far up the harbour at their moorings off the dockyard, thehuge men-of-war formed centres around which the boats gathered innumerous squads, for every evening the band would play on board thesefloating castles, and the music never seemed more sweet than when itfloated out over the still waters. Sometimes, too, after the band hadceased, the sailors would gather on the forecastle and sing their songs, as only sailors can sing, winning round after round of applause fromtheir appreciative audience in the boats. 

All of this was very delightful to Bert. So, too, was the paddling abouton the beach that fringed the bottom of the fort's grassy slope, and themaking of miniature forts out of the warm, dry sand, only to have themdissolve again before the advancing tide. Just as delightful, too, wasthe clambering over the boulders that marked the ruins of an old pier, searching for periwinkles, star-fish, and limpets, with never-ceasingwonder at the tenacity with which they held on to the rocks. Playingthus in the sunshine almost from dawn to dark, Bert grew visibly biggerand browner and sturdier, as the days slipped swiftly by. 

CHAPTER XV. 

A CHANGE OF SCHOOLS. 

With the coming of September the holidays ended, and the question ofschools once more was earnestly discussed in the Lloyd household. 

"I have quite made up my mind not to send Bert back to Mr. Garrison, "said Mr. Lloyd. "He seems to be learning little or nothing there. Thefact of the matter is, what he does learn, he learns at home, and Mr. Garrison simply hears him recite his lessons. "

"That's very true, " assented Mrs. Lloyd. "I am only too glad to helpBert all I can in his studies, but I do not see the propriety of ourhaving the greater part of the work of teaching him ourselves when weare at the same time paying some one else to do it. Do you, Mary?" sheadded, turning to her daughter. 

"No, mother, " replied Mary. "I suppose it is not quite fair. Yet I wouldfeel sorry if Bert went to a school where everything was done for him, and nothing left for us to do. I like to help him. He gets hold of anidea so quickly; it is a pleasure to explain anything to him. "

"It seems to me that a school where there is a good deal of healthfulrivalry among the boys would be the best place for Bert. He is veryambitious, and eager to be at the top, and in a school of that kind hisenergies would be constantly stimulated, " said Mr. Lloyd. "What do youthink, Kate?" addressing his wife. 

"I think that would be very good, indeed, " answered Mrs. Lloyd. "But doyou know of any such school?"

"I have been hearing good accounts of Dr. Johnston's school, and hecertainly seems to have a great deal of system in his methods, so that Iam inclined to give him a trial. "

"Oh, Dr. Johnston's is a splendid school, " spoke up Mary, withenthusiasm. "Both of Edie Strong's brothers go there, and I have oftenheard them tell about it. But isn't Bert too young for it yet? He's onlynine, you know, and they are mostly big boys who go to Dr. Johnston's. "

"Not a bit!" said Mr. Lloyd, emphatically. "Not a bit! True, Bert isonly nine, but he looks more like twelve, and thinks and acts like it, too. It will be all the better for him to be with boys a little olderthan himself. He will find it hard to hold his own among them, and thatwill serve to strengthen and develop him. "

"Poor little chap!" said Mrs. Lloyd, tenderly. "I expect he will have apretty hard time of it at first. I wish Frank were going with him, forhe thinks all the world of Bert, and is so much older and bigger that hecould be a sort of protector for him. "

"I'm glad you mentioned Frank, Kate, " exclaimed Mr. Lloyd. "You've givenme an idea. If I decide to send Bert to Dr. Johnston's, I will make apoint of seeing Mr. Bowser, to ask him if he will not consent to sendFrank, too. I hardly expect he will make any objection, as it is notlikely there will be any difference in the expense. "

"Oh, I do hope Frank will go, too, " cried Mary, clapping her hands. "Ifhe does, I shall feel ever so much easier about Bert. Frank is so fondof him that he won't let him be abused, if he can help it. "

"Very well, then, " said Mr. Lloyd, bringing the conversation to a close. "I will make some further inquiries about Dr. Johnston's, and if theresults are satisfactory I will see Mr. Bowser, and do what I can topersuade him to let Frank accompany Bert. "

A few days after, Mr. Lloyd called Bert to him, while they were allsitting in the parlour, just after dinner. 

"Come here, Bert, " said he. "I want to have a talk with you about goingto school. You know I don't intend you to go back to Mr. Garrison's. Now, where would you like to go yourself?"

"Oh, I don't know, father, " replied Bert. "I don't want to go to theAcadian or National school anyway. "

"You need not feel troubled on that score. So far as I can learn, theyare no better than the one you have been going to. But what do you thinkof Dr. Johnston's school? How would you like to become a pupil there?"

"Oh, father, " exclaimed Bert, looking up, with a face expressive of bothsurprise and concern, "I'm not big enough for that school. They're allbig boys that go there. "

"But you're a big boy, --for your age, at all events, --Bert, " returnedMr. Lloyd, with a reassuring smile, "and you'll soon grow to be as bigas any of them. "

"But, father, " objected Bert, "they're awfully rough there, and so hardon the new fellows. They always hoist them. "

"Hoist them?" inquired Mr. Lloyd. "What do you mean?"

"Why, they hang them up on the fence, and then pound them. It hurtsawfully. Robbie Simpson told me about it. They hoisted him the firstday. "

"Humph!" said Mr. Lloyd. "I must say I don't like that, but at the worstI suppose you can survive it, just as the others have done. Is there anyother reason why you wouldn't like to go to Dr. Johnston's?"

"Well, father, you know he has a dreadful strap, most a yard long, andhe gives the boys dreadful whippings with it. "

"Suppose he has, Bert; does he whip the boys who know their lessons, andbehave properly in school?" asked Mr. Lloyd, with a quizzical glance athis son. 

Bert laughed. "Of course not, father, " said he. "He only whips the badboys. "

"Then why should his long strap be an objection, Bert? You don't proposeto be one of the bad boys, do you?"

"Of course not, father; but I might get a whipping, all the same. "

"We'll hope not, Bert; we'll hope not. And now, look here. Would youlike it any better going to Dr. Johnston's if Frank were to go withyou?"

"Oh, yes indeed, father, " exclaimed Bert, his face lighting up. "IfFrank goes too, I won't mind it. "

"All right then, Bert; I am glad to say that Frank is going, too. I wentto see his father to-day, and he agreed to let him go, so I suppose wemay consider the matter settled, and next Monday you two boys will gowith me to the school. " And Mr. Lloyd, evidently well-pleased at havingreconciled Bert to the idea of the new school, took up his paper, whileBert went over to his mother's side to have a talk with her about it. 

Mrs. Lloyd felt all a mother's anxiety regarding this new phase of lifeupon which her boy was about to enter. Dr. Johnston's was the largestand most renowned school in the city. It was also in a certain sense themost aristocratic. Its master charged high rates, which only well-to-dopeople could afford, and as a consequence the sons of the wealthiestcitizens attended his school. Because of this, it was what would becalled select; and just in that very fact lay one of the dangers Mrs. Lloyd most dreaded. Rich men's sons may be select from a social point ofview, but they are apt to be quite the reverse from the moralstandpoint. Frank Bowser, with all his clumsiness and lack of goodmanners, would be a far safer companion than Dick Wilding, the graceful, easy-mannered heir of the prosperous bank president. 

On the other hand, the school was undoubtedly the best in the city. Along line of masters had handed down from one to the other its fame as ahome of the classics and mathematics with unimpaired lustre. At no otherschool could such excellent preparation for the university be obtained, and Bert in due time was to go to the university. Many a long andserious talk had Mr. And Mrs. Lloyd over the matter. True, they hadgreat confidence in their boy, and in the principles according to whichthey had sought to bring him up. But then he was their only boy, and iftheir confidence should perchance be found to have been misplaced, howcould the damage be repaired? Ah! well, they could, after all, only dotheir best, and leave the issue with God. They could not always beBert's shields. He must learn to fight his own battles, and it was aswell for him to begin now, and at Dr. Johnston's school. 

Bert himself took quite a serious view of the matter, too. He was a morethan ordinarily thoughtful boy, and the prospect of going to Dr. Johnston's made his brain very busy. While the school was not withoutits attractions for him, there were many reasons why he shrank fromgoing to it. The most of the boys were, as he knew from often seeingthem when on his way to and from Mr. Garrison's, older and bigger thanhimself, and, still worse, they were strangers to him with one or twoexceptions. Of course, since Frank was to go with him, he would not mindthat so much, but it counted for a good deal, notwithstanding. 

Then he had heard startling stories of Dr. Johnston's severity; of hiskeeping boys in after school for a whole afternoon; of the tremendouswhippings he gave with that terrible strap of his, the tails of whichhad, according to popular rumour, been first soaked in vinegar, and thenstudded with small shot; of the rigorous care with which the lessonswere heard, every boy in the class having to show that he was wellprepared, or to take the consequences. These, and other stories whichhad reached Bert's ears, now perturbed him greatly. 

At the same time, he had no idea of drawing back, and pleading with hisfather to send him somewhere else. He saw clearly enough that both hisfather and mother had quite made up their minds that it would be thebest thing for him, and he knew better than to trouble them with vainprotests. He found his sister an inexpressible comfort at this time. Heconfided in her unreservedly, and her sweet, serene, trustful way oflooking at things cleared away many a difficulty for him. It was easy tolook at the bright side of affairs with Mary as an adviser, and the moreBert talked with her, the more encouraged he became. It was a happycoincidence, that on the Sunday preceding Bert's entrance into Dr. Johnston's school, the lesson for the Sabbath school should containthese ringing words: "Quit you like men; be strong. " Mr. Silver had muchto say about them to his class:

"Only six simple words of one syllable each, boys, " said he, as hegathered his scholars close about his chair, "but they mean a greatdeal. And yet, we do not need to look into some wise old commentator totell us just what they do mean, for we can all understand themourselves. They are not intended solely for grown-up people, either. They are for boys just like you. Now, let us look into them a bit. 'Quityou like men. ' What kind of men, Bert? Any kind at all, or someparticular kind?"

"Like good men, of course, " replied Bert, promptly. 

"Yes, Bert, that's right. And what does it mean to quit yourself like agood man?" asked Mr. Silver, again. 

"To be always manly, and not be a baby, " answered Walter Thomson, with avigour that brought a smile to Mr. Silver's face. 

"Right you are, Walter; but is that all?"

"No, " said Will Murray, "it means to do only what is right. "

"That's it, Will. To be always manly, and to do only what is right. Now, boys, do you know that you are very apt to confuse these two things, andby forming mistaken notions as to what constitutes the first, you failto do the second? Many boys think that it is manly to swear, to usetobacco, to be out late at night hanging round the street corners, andso they do all these things, although they are not right things to do. Have they the right ideas of manliness, boys?"

"No, sir; no, sir, " answered the thoroughly interested class, in fullchorus. 

"No, indeed, boys, they have not, " continued Mr. Silver. "There is overa hundred times more manliness in refusing to form those bad habits thanin yielding to them. And that is just the kind of manliness I want allthe boys of my class to have. 'Quit you like men, ' boys, and then, 'bestrong. ' What does that mean?"

"To keep up your muscle, " spoke out Frank, much to the surprise ofeverybody, for, although he listened attentively enough, he very rarelyopened his mouth in the class. 

Mr. Silver smiled. It was not just the answer he wanted, but he wouldnot discourage Frank by saying so. 

"That's part of the answer, but not quite the whole of it, " he said, after a pause. "It's a good thing for boys to keep up their muscle. Godwants what is best in this world, and we can often serve Him with ourmuscle as well as with our minds. If Samson and Gideon and David had notbeen men of muscle, they could not have done such grand work for God asthey did. I like to see a boy with legs and arms 'as hard as nails, ' asthey say. But the words 'be strong' here mean more than that, don'tthey, Bert?"

"They mean to be strong in resisting temptation, don't they, Mr. Silver?" replied Bert. 

"Yes; that's just it. Quit you like men--be manly, and be strong toresist temptation. Now, boys, some people think that young chaps likeyou don't have many temptations. That you have to wait until you grow upfor that. But it's a tremendous mistake, isn't it? You all have yourtemptations, and lots of them, too. And they are not all alike, by anymeans, either. Every boy has his own peculiar difficulties, and findshis own obstacles in the way of right doing. But the cure is the same inall cases. It is to be strong in the Lord, and in the power of Hismight. That is the best way of all in which to be strong, boys. When thePhilistines were hard pressed by the Israelites, they said one toanother, 'Be strong and quit yourselves like men . . . Quit yourselveslike men, and fight. ' And they fought so well that Israel was smittenbefore them, and the ark of God was taken. And so, boys, whenever, athome, at school, or at play, you feel tempted to do what is wrong, I askyou to remember these words, 'Quit yourselves like men, be strong, andfight. ' If you do, so sure as there is a God in heaven who loves youall, you will come off conquerors. "

Mr. Silver's words made a deep impression upon Bert. The great ambitionof his boyish heart was to be esteemed manly. Nor was he entirely freefrom the mistaken notions about manliness to which his teacher hadreferred. He had more than once been sneered at, by some of the boys atMr. Garrison's, for refusing to do what seemed to him wrong. They hadcalled him "Softy, " and hinted at his being tied to his mother'sapron-strings. Then, big, coarse Bob Brandon, always on the look-out tovent his spite, had nicknamed him "Sugar-mouth" one day, because he hadexclaimed to one of the boys who was pouring out oaths:

"Oh, Tom! how can you swear so? Don't you know how wicked it is to takeGod's name in vain?"

These and other incidents like them had troubled Bert a good deal. Hedreaded being thought a "softy, " and had even at times felt a kind ofenvy of the boys whose consciences did not trouble them if they swore, or indulged in sly smokes, or defiled their mouths with filthy quids. Mr. Silver's words now came in good time to give a changed current tothese thoughts. They presented to his mind a very different idea ofmanliness from the confused conception which had been his hitherto. 

"That's a good motto for a fellow, Shorty, " said he, as the two friendswalked home together from the school. "Mother asked me the other day totake a text for a motto. I think I'll take 'Quit you like men, bestrong. '"

"I think I will, too, Bert, " said Frank. "It's no harm if we have thesame one, is it?"

"Why no, of course not, " answered Bert. "We'll both have the same, andthen we'll help one another all we can to do what it says. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FIRST DAYS AT DR. JOHNSTON'S. 

It was a fine, bright September morning when Mr. Lloyd, with Bert on oneside of him and Frank on the other--for Frank had come down, so that hemight go with Bert--made his way to Dr. Johnston's school. The schooloccupied a historic old building, whose weather-beaten front faced oneof the principal streets of the city. This building had in times longpast been the abode of the governor of the province, and sadly as it haddegenerated in appearance, it still retained a certain dignity, and airof faded grandeur, that strongly suggested its having once been appliedto a more exalted use than the housing of a hundred boys for certainhours of the day. So spacious was it, that Dr. Johnston found ample roomfor his family in one half, while the other half was devoted to thepurposes of the school. At the rear, a cluster of shabby outbuildingsled to a long narrow yard where tufts of rank, coarse grass, and bunchesof burdocks struggled hard to maintain their existence in spite offearful odds. 

The boys' hearts were throbbing violently as Mr. Lloyd rang the bell. The door was opened readily by a boy, who was glad of the excuse toleave his seat, and he entered the schoolroom, followed by his charges. The room was long, narrow, and low-ceilinged, and was divided into twounequal portions by a great chimney, on either side of which a passagehad been left. At the farther end, occupying the central space betweentwo windows, was the doctor's desk, or throne it might more properly becalled; for never did autocrat wield more unquestioned authority overhis subjects than did Dr. Johnston over the hundred and odd scholars whocomposed his school. In front of him, running down the centre of theroom, and on either hand, following the walls, were long lines of desks, at which sat boys of all sorts, and of all ages, from ten to eighteen. As Mr. Lloyd entered, those nearest the door looked up, and seeing thenew-comers, proceeded to stare at them with a frank curiosity that madeBert feel as though he would like to hide in one of his father'scoat-tail pockets. 

They turned away pretty quickly, however, when Dr. Johnston, leaving hisdesk, came down to meet Mr. Lloyd, and as he passed between the lines, every head was bent as busily over the book or slate before it, asthough its attention had never been distracted. 

Considering that Dr. Johnston was really a small, slight man, it wassurprising what an idea of stately dignity his appearance conveyed. Hecould hardly have impressed Bert with a deeper feeling of respect fromthe outset, if he had been seven feet high, instead of only a littlemore than five. He was a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, and wore atall times a long black gown, reaching nearly to his ankles, which setoff to the best advantage the spare, straight figure, and strong darkface. The habitual expression of that face when in repose was ofthoughtful severity, and yet if one did but scan it closely enough, thestern mouth was seen to have a downward turn at its corners that hintedat a vein of humour lying hid somewhere. The hint was well-sustained, for underneath all his sternness and severity the doctor concealed aplayful humour, that at times came to the surface, and gratefullyrelieved his ordinary grimness. 

As he walked down from his desk to meet Mr. Lloyd, he looked verypleasant indeed; and Bert felt his nervousness a little calmed as, holding out his thin, white and yet muscular hand, Dr. Johnston said, cordially:

"Good-morning, Mr. Lloyd. I presume these are the two boys you spoke tome about. "

"They are, Dr. Johnston, " Mr. Lloyd replied. "I brought them in goodtime so that they might learn as much as possible about the ways of theschool the first day. "

"You did well, Mr. Lloyd. It is important to have a good beginning ineverything that is worth doing, " said the doctor; then, turning toBert, he slipped his hand under his chin, and lifting his head so thathe might look him full in the face, added, with a smile, "I need hardlyask which of these boys is yours, for this one betrays his paternity inevery feature. "

"You have hit the mark, doctor, " said Mr. Lloyd, smiling in his turn. "This is my son Cuthbert, at your service, and this is Frank Bowser, hisinseparable companion. "

"Quite a case of Damon and Pythias, eh?" said the doctor, whose devotionto the classics was such that his one great regret was that he had notlived in the time of Horace. 

"Yes, something of the kind, " rejoined Mr. Lloyd; "and I would be veryglad if you could manage to let them sit together so long as they behavethemselves. "

"We'll see, we'll see, " was the doctor's non-committal response. 

"Very well, then, doctor, " said Mr. Lloyd, turning to leave. "I'll handthem over to you now. I am sure you will make the best of them, and thatI am leaving them in very good hands. Good-bye, boys. " And then, bendingdown, he whispered in Bert's ear, "Remember--quit you like men--bestrong, " and then left them. 

As Mr. Lloyd disappeared through the door, the air of geniality thedoctor had been wearing during the brief interview vanished from hiscountenance, and it relapsed into its wonted look of resigned severity. 

"Lloyd and Bowser, come with me to my desk, " said he, turning his backupon them, and walking down the room. The boys followed very meekly, andon arriving at the desk the doctor entered their names in a huge bookthat lay open before him, using an old-fashioned quill pen thatscratched so harshly as to send a shudder through Bert, who was verysensitive to such things. 

"We will now see about seats for you both, " continued the doctor. Then, raising his voice, he called out, "Mr. Snelling, will you please comehere, " and from the far end of the room a respectful voice responded"Yes, sir. "

Looking in the direction whence the voice came, Bert saw an odd-lookingman approaching, who, of course, was Mr. Snelling. He was of mediumheight, but quite as slight as the doctor himself. Many years at theschoolmaster's desk had given a stoop to his shoulders and a pallor tohis face, that were in marked contrast to his chief's erect figure andswarthy countenance. But if his face was pale, his hair made a braveattempt to atone for this lack of colour, for it was the richest, mostuncompromising red; and as though he delighted in its warm tints, Mr. Snelling allowed it to grow in uncropped abundance, and his favouritegesture was to thrust his fingers through its tangled mass. Beneath awhite and narrow forehead were two small sharp eyes, that peered outkeenly through a pair of gold-bowed spectacles, and were ever on thewatch to detect the slightest misbehaviour among the urchins gatheredaround him. 

Bert's first impression of Mr. Snelling was not a favourable one, and ashe stood by and heard Dr. Johnston say: "Mr. Snelling, here are two morepupils. This is Lloyd, and this is Bowser. They will go into your roomfor the present. Will you please see that desks are assigned them?"--hethought to himself that in spite of the doctor's grim appearance hewould rather stay in his room than be handed over to Mr. Snelling. 

However, he was not to be consulted in the matter, so he followed in thewake of Mr. Snelling, who, by the way, it should be explained, was theassistant master, having special charge of all the younger scholars, andthe drilling of them in the English branches of learning. The classicsand mathematics the doctor reserved for himself, and a better teacher ofthe former particularly there was not in all Halifax. 

Mr. Snelling's portion of the room differed from the doctor's only inthat it was not so well lighted and the seats were not quite socomfortable. The school being pretty full at the time, the securing ofseats for the two new-comers required some rearranging, in the course ofwhich changes had to be made that evidently did not by any means meetwith the approbation of those who were immediately concerned; andBert's spirits, already at a low ebb, were not much elevated by sundryscowling looks directed at him, and by one red-faced, irritable-lookingchap seizing the opportunity when Mr. Snelling's back was turned toshake his fist at Bert and Frank, and mutter loudly enough for them tohear:

"I'll punch the heads of you both at recess, see if I don't. "

At length, with some little difficulty, Mr. Snelling got mattersarranged, and the two boys were placed in the farthest corner of theroom, and, to their profound delight, side by side. Their accommodationswere the reverse of luxurious. A wooden bench, destitute of back, andshiny from the friction of dear knows how many restless sitters; asloping desk, cut and carved by careless knives, and having underneathan open shelf upon which the books, slate, cap, and lunch might beput--that was the sum total. Yet, after all, what more do schoolboysreally need, or can be safely intrusted with?

Feeling very strange and nervous, Bert and Frank took their seats, andslipping their caps under the desk--they were both wearing thatserviceable form of headgear known as the Glengarry--they did their bestto seem composed, and to take in their surroundings. The gaunt, unlovelyroom was soon inspected, and from it they turned their attention to itsoccupants. Mr. Snelling has already been described. To the left of hisdesk, and extending row upon row, one behind the other, were desksfilled with boys of different ages and sizes. In front of him was anopen space, in which the classes stood when reciting lessons to him, andacross this space was another line of desks placed close to the wall, which were assigned to the oldest boys in the room. 

Not a familiar or friendly face could the new-comers find, but instead, they saw many that seemed to take pleasure in making them feel, ifpossible, still more ill at ease, by fixing upon them a cold, indifferent stare, or even an ugly grimace. The only ray of light wasthat which came from the sweet countenance of a blue-eyed, fair-hairedboy, who, catching Bert's eye, nodded pleasantly at him, as though tosay, "I'm glad you've come; make yourself at home. " And Bert resolvedthat he would make his acquaintance at the very first opportunity. 

Having nothing to do but watch the other boys as they studied andrecited, the morning dragged along very slowly for Bert and Frank, andthey were immensely relieved when the noon recess was announced, and thewhole school poured tumultuously out into either the yard or the street, according to their preference. The majority of the boys went into thestreet, and the two friends followed them, feeling not a little anxiousas to what sort of treatment they might expect at the hands of their newcompanions. As it proved, however, they had nothing to fear, for it wasan unwritten law of the Johnston school, that new boys should be leftin peace for the first day; and accordingly Frank and Bert werepermitted to stand about and watch the others enjoying themselveswithout interruption. No one asked them to join in the games, although, no doubt, had they done so of their own accord, no one would haveobjected. After they had been there a few minutes, Bert heard a softvoice behind him saying:

"It's horrid to be a new boy, isn't it? When I was a new boy I felt sofrightened. Do you feel frightened?" And turning round he saw beside himthe blue-eyed, fair-haired boy whose pleasant face had attracted hisattention in the school. 

"I don't think I feel just frightened, " he answered, with a smile. "ButI can't say I feel very much at home yet. "

"Oh, my! But it will be very much worse to-morrow, " said the newacquaintance. 

"And why will it be worse?" inquired Bert, eagerly. 

"Because they'll hoist you, " said the other, with a nervous glancearound, as though he feared being overheard. 

"Does it hurt dreadfully to be hoisted?" asked Bert, while Frank drewnear, awaiting the reply with intense interest. 

"Oh, yes; it does hurt dreadfully! But"--with a more cheerful air--"youget over it after a little while, you know. "

"Well, then, I guess I can stand it. If you got over it all right, socan I, " spoke up Bert, manfully; then, turning to Frank, "And you can, too, can't you, Shorty?"

Frank shook his head doubtfully. "I _can_ all right enough, but I don'tknow that I _will_. I've a mind to give them a fight for it, anyhow. "

"Not a bit of use, " said the blue-eyed boy, whose name, by the way, ashe presently told the others, was Ernest Linton. "Not a bit of use. They'll only beat you the harder if you fight. "

"We'll see, " said Frank, with a determined air. "We'll see when the timecomes. "

Bert and Frank found Ernest a very bright and useful friend, and theyhad so many questions to ask him that they were very sorry when theringing of a bell summoned them back to their seats, where they werekept until three o'clock in the afternoon, when school was over for theday. 

At home that evening Bert recounted his experiences to three veryattentive listeners, and his face grew very grave when he came to tellwhat Ernest had said about the "hoisting. " Having never witnessed aperformance of this peculiar rite by which for many years it had beenthe custom of the school to initiate new members, Bert had no very clearideas about it, and, of course, thought it all the more dreadful on thataccount. But his father cheered him a great deal by the view he took ofit. 

"See, now, Bert, " said he. "It's just this way. Every boy in Dr. Johnston's school has been hoisted, and none of them, I suppose, are anythe worse for it. Neither will you be. Take my advice and don't resist. Let the boys have it all their own way, and they'll like you all thebetter, and let you off all the easier. "

"Very well, father, I'll do just as you say, " responded Bert. "And whenI come home to-morrow afternoon I'll tell you all about it. " And feelingin much better spirits than he had been in all day, Bert went off tobed, and to sleep, as only a tired schoolboy in sturdy health cansleep. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE HOISTING. 

Mrs. Lloyd gave Bert a more than usually affectionate kiss as he startedoff for school next morning, and his father called after him:

"Remember, Bert, quit you like a man. "

Yet who could blame the little fellow if his heart throbbed withunwonted vigour all that morning, and that he watched the clock's handsanxiously as they crept slowly, but steadily, round the dial, yellowwith age and service. 

Frank had adopted an unconcerned, if not defiant air, which told plainlyenough that he had no idea of submitting quietly to the inevitableordeal. He was a born fighter. Strength, endurance, courage wereexpressed in every line of his body. Indeed, as was seen in the matterof the rows between the Garrison and the National boys, he thought agood lively tussle to be fine fun, and never missed a chance of havingone. 

The two boys were carefully examined by both Dr. Johnston and Mr. Snelling as to the extent of their learning in the course of themorning, and assigned to classes accordingly. They were given the samework: English grammar and history, arithmetic, geography, Latin grammar, &c. , and a list given them of the books they would need to procure. Theywere glad to find themselves in the same classes with Ernest Linton, whohad been only half-a-year at the school before them, for he seemed sucha kind, willing, obliging little chap that they both became fond of himat once. 

When recess came he slipped up to Bert and whispered in his ear:

"Stay in school, and then they can't get at you. Mr. Snelling alwaysstays, and they daren't come in for you. "

"Not a bit of it, " said Bert, emphatically. "The sooner it's over thebetter. Come along, Shorty. " And they marched bravely out, with Ernestfollowing closely behind. 

As they stepped into the street, they found fifty or more of the boysgathered about the door, evidently awaiting them. Instantly the cry wasraised, "The new boys--hoist them! hoist them!" And half-a-dozen handswere laid upon Bert, who led the van, while others seized Frank toprevent his running away. Bert made no resistance. Neither did Frank, when he saw that his time had not yet come, as they were going to hoistBert first. Clinching his fists, and hunching his shoulders in readinessfor a struggle, he stood in silence watching Bert's fate. 

What that would be was not long a matter of uncertainty. In the midst ofa noisy rabble of boys, many of whom were larger, and all older thanhimself, he was borne along to the foot of the high fence that shut inthe yard which, as already described, was at the back of the schoolbuilding. Perched on top of this fence, and leaning down withoutstretched arms, were four of the largest lads, shouting at the top oftheir voices, "Bring him along; hoist him up, hoist him!" Theunresisting Bert was brought underneath this quartette, and then hishands were lifted up until they could grasp them in their own. So soonas this was done, a pull all together on their part hoisted him up fromthe ground, three feet at least, and then his legs were seized, lest heshould be tempted to kick. The next moment, as perfectly helpless, andlooking not unlike a hawk nailed to a barn-door by way of warning tokindred robbers, Bert hung there, doing his best to keep a smile on hisface, but in reality half frightened to death. The whole crowd thenprecipitated themselves upon him, and with tight-shut fists proceeded topummel any part of his body they could reach. Their blows were dealt ingood earnest, and not merely for fun, and they hurt just as much as onemight expect. Poor Bert winced, and quivered, and squirmed, but not acry escaped from his close-set lips. The one thought in his mind was, "Quit you like men, " and so buoyed up by it was he, that had the blowsbeen as hard again as they were, it is doubtful if his resolution tobear them in silence would have faltered. 

He did not know how long he hung there. It seemed to him like hours. Itprobably was not longer than a minute. But, oh! the glad relief withwhich he heard one of the leaders call out:

"That's enough, fellows; let him down. He stood it like a brick. "

The blows ceased at once; those holding his hands swung him a couple oftimes along the fence after the manner of a pendulum, and then droppedhim to the ground, where he was surrounded by his late persecutors, whonow, looking pleasant enough, proceeded to clap him on the back, andtell him very emphatically that he was "a plucky little chap"; "one ofthe right sort"; "true grit, " and so forth. 

Feeling sore and strained, from his neck to his heels, Bert would havebeen glad to slip away into some corner and have a good cry, just torelieve his suppressed emotions; but as he tried to separate himselffrom the throng about him, he heard the shout of "Hoist him! Hoist him!"again raised, and saw the leaders in this strange sport bear down uponFrank Bowser, who, still in the hands of his first captors had looked onat Bert's ordeal with rapidly rising anger. 

The instant Frank heard the shout, he broke loose from those who heldhim, and springing up a flight of steps near by, stood facing hispursuers with an expression upon his countenance that looked ill for thefirst that should attempt to touch him. A little daunted by hisunexpected action, the boys paused for a moment, and then swarmed aboutthe steps. One of the largest rushed forward to seize Frank, but with aquick movement the latter dodged him, and then by a sudden charge senthim tumbling down the steps into the arms of the others. But theadvantage was only momentary. In another minute he was surrounded andborne down the steps despite his resistance. 

The struggle that ensued was really heroic--on Frank's part, at allevents. Although so absurdly outnumbered, he fought desperately, notwith blows, but with sheer strength of arm and leg, straining to theutmost every muscle in his sturdy frame. Indeed, so tremendous were hisefforts, that for a time it seemed as if they would succeed in freeinghim. But the might of numbers prevailed at length, and, after someminutes' further struggling, he was hoisted in due form, and poundeduntil the boys were fairly weary. 

When they let him go, Frank adjusted his clothes, which had been muchdisordered in the conflict, took his cap from the hands of a littlechap, by whom it had thoughtfully been picked up for him, and withfurious flaming face went over to Bert, who had been a spectator of hisfriend's gallant struggle with mingled feelings of admiration for hiscourage and regret at his obstinacy. 

"They beat me, but I made them sweat for it, " said he. "I wasn't goingto let them have their own way with me, even if you did. "

"You might just as well have given in first as last, " replied Bert. 

"But I didn't give in, " asserted Frank. "That's just the point. Theywere too many for me, of course, and I couldn't help myself at last, butI held out as long as I could. "

"Anyway, it's over now, " said Bert, "and it won't bother us any more. But there's one thing I've made up my mind to: I'm not going to haveanything to do with hoisting other new boys. I don't like it, and Iwon't do it. "

"No more will I, Bert, " said Frank. "It's a mean business; a whole crowdof fellows turning on one and beating him like that. "

Just then the bell rang, and all the boys poured back into theschoolroom for the afternoon session. 

Each in his own way, Bert and Frank had made a decidedly favourableimpression upon their schoolmates. No one mistook Bert's passiveendurance for cowardice. His bearing had been too brave and bright forthat. Neither did Frank's vigorous resistance arouse any ill-feelingagainst him. Boys are odd creatures. They heartily admire and applaudthe fiery, reckless fellow, who takes no thought for the consequences, and yet they thoroughly appreciate the quiet, cool self-command of theone who does not move until he knows just what he is going to do. And sothey were well pleased with both the friends, and quite ready to admitthem into the full fellowship of the school. 

The Lloyds were greatly interested by Bert's account of the hoisting. They praised him for his self-control, and Frank for his plucky fightagainst such odds, and they fully agreed with Bert that hoisting was apoor business at best, and that he would be doing right to have nothingto do with it. 

"Perhaps some day or other you'll be able to have it put a stop to, Bert, " said his mother, patting his head fondly. "It would make me veryproud if my boy were to become a reformer before he leaves school. "

"I'm afraid there's not much chance of that, mother, " answered Bert. "The boys have been hoisting the new chaps for ever so many years, andDr. Johnston has never stopped them. "

That was true. Although he feigned to know nothing about it, the doctorwas well aware of the existence of this practice peculiar to his school, but he never thought of interfering with the boys. It was a cardinalprinciple with him that the boys should be left pretty much tothemselves at recess. So long as they did their duty during the schoolhours, they could do as they pleased during the play hour. Moreover, hewas a great admirer of manliness in his boys. He would have been glad tofind in everyone of them the stoical indifference to pain of thetraditional Indian. Consequently, fair stand-up fights were winked at, and anything like tattling or tale-bearing sternly discouraged. He hadan original method of expressing his disapprobation of the latter, whichwill be illustrated further on. Holding those views, therefore, he wasnot likely to put his veto upon "hoisting. "

As the days went by, Bert rapidly mastered the ways of the school, andmade many friends among his schoolmates. He found the lessons a gooddeal harder than they had been at Mr. Garrison's. And not only so, butthe method of hearing them was so thorough that it was next toimpossible for a boy who had come ill-prepared to escape detection. Dr. Johnston did not simply hear the lesson; he examined his scholars uponit, and nothing short of full acquaintance with it would content him. Hehad an original system of keeping the school record, which puzzled Bertvery much, and took him a good while to understand. 

On the doctor's desk lay a large book, something like a business ledger. One page was devoted to each day. At the left side of the page was thecolumn containing the boys' names, arranged in order of seniority, theboy who had been longest in the school being at the head, and the lastnew boy at the foot. Each boy had a line to himself, running out to theend of the page, and these parallel lines were crossed by vertical ones, ruled from the top to the bottom of the page, and having at the top thenames of all the different classes; so that the page when ready for itsentries resembled very much a checker board, only that the squares werevery small, and exceedingly numerous. Just how these squares, thusstanding opposite each name, should be filled, depended upon thebehaviour of the owner of that name, and his knowledge of his lessons. 

If Bert, for instance, recited his grammar lesson without a slip, theletter B--standing for _bene_, well--was put in the grammar column. Ifhe made one mistake, the entry was V B, _vix bene_--scarcely well; iftwo mistakes, Med, _mediocriter_--middling; and if three, M, _male_--badly, equivalent to not knowing it at all. The same systemprevailed for all the lessons, and in a modified form for the behaviouror deportment also. As regards behaviour, the arrangement was one badmark for each offence, the first constituting a V B, the second a Med, the third an M, and the fourth a P, the most ominous letter of all, standing, as it did, for _pessime_--as bad as possible--and one mightalso say for punishment also; as whoever got a P thereby earned awhipping with that long strap, concerning which Bert had heard suchalarming stories. 

It will be seen that, by following out the line upon which each boy'sname stood, his complete record as a scholar could be seen, and uponthis record the doctor based the award of prizes at the close of theterm. For he was a firm believer in the benefits of prize-giving, andevery half-year, on the day before the holidays, a bookcase full of finebooks, each duly inscribed, was distributed among those who had come outat the head in the different classes, or distinguished themselves byconstant good behaviour. 

Once that Bert fully understood the purpose of this daily record, andthe principle upon which the prize-giving was based, he determined to beamong the prize winners at the end of the term. His ambition was firedby what the older boys told him of the beautiful books awarded, and thehonour it was to get one of them. He knew that he could not please hisfather or mother better than by being on the prize list, and so heapplied himself to his lessons with a vigour and fidelity that soonbrought him to the notice of the observant doctor. 

"I am glad to see you taking so much interest in your work, " said he onemorning, pausing, in his round of inspection, to lay his hand kindlyupon Bert's shoulder as the latter bent over his slate, working out aproblem in proportion. "A good beginning is a very important thing. "

Bert blushed to the roots of his hair at this unexpected and, indeed, unusual compliment from the grim master, who, before the boy couldframe any reply, passed out of hearing. 

"We'll do our best, won't we, Shorty?" said Bert, turning to his friendbeside him. 

"I suppose so, " answered Frank, in rather a doubtful tone. "But yourbest will be a good deal better than mine. The lessons are just awfulhard; it's no use talking. "

"They are hard, Shorty, and no mistake. But you'll get used to them allright, " rejoined Bert, cheerfully. 

"I guess I'll get used to being kept in and getting whipped, first, "grumbled Frank. 

"Not a bit of it, " Bert insisted. "You just stick at them and you'llcome out all right. "

The fact of the matter was, that poor Frank did find the lessons alittle more than he could manage, and there were a good many more "VB's" and "Med's" opposite his name than "B's. " He was a restless sort ofa chap, moreover, and noisy in his movements, thus often causing Mr. Snelling to look at him, and call out sharply:

"Bowser, what are you doing there?" And Frank would instantly reply, ina tone of indignant innocence:

"Nothing, sir. "

Whereupon Mr. Snelling would turn to Dr. Johnston, with the request:

"Will you please put a mark to Bowser for doing nothing, sir?" And downwould go the black mark against poor Bowser, who, often as thishappened, seemed unable ever to learn to avoid that fatal reply:"Nothing, sir. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

SCHOOL EXPERIENCES. 

By the time autumn had made way for winter, Bert felt thoroughly at homeat Dr. Johnston's, and was just about as happy a boy as attended thisrenowned institution. In spite of the profound awe the doctor inspired, he ventured to cherish toward him a feeling of love as well as ofrespect; and although Mr. Snelling did not exactly inspire awe, nor evenmuch respect, he managed to like him not a little also. As for theboys--well, there were all sorts and conditions of them; good, bad, andindifferent; boys who thought it very fine and manly to smoke, andswear, and swap improper stories, and boys who seemed as if they wouldhave been more appropriately dressed in girls' clothes, so lacking werethey in true manly qualities; while between these two extremes came inthe great majority, among whom Bert easily found plenty of bright, wholesome companions. 

There were some odd chaps at the school, with whose peculiarities Bertwould amuse the home circle very much, as he described them in his owngraphic way. There was Bob Mackasey, called by his companions, "Taffythe Welshman, " because he applied the money given him by his motherevery morning to get some lunch with, to the purchase of taffy; whichtoothsome product he easily bartered off for more sandwiches and cakesthan could have been bought for ten cents, thus filling his own stomachat a very slight cost to his far-seeing mother. 

A big fat fellow in knickerbockers, by name Harry Rawdon, the son of anofficer in the English army, had attained a peculiar kind of notorietyin the school, by catching flies and bottling them. 

Then there was Larry Saunders, the dandy of the school, althoughundoubtedly one of the very plainest boys in it, who kept a tiny squareof looking-glass in his desk, and would carefully arrange his toiletbefore leaving the school in the afternoon, to saunter up and down theprincipal street of the city, doing his best to be captivating. 

Two hot-tempered, pugnacious chaps, by name Bob Morley and Fred Short, afforded great amusement by the ease with which they could be set atpunching one another. It was only necessary for some one to take BobMorley aside and whisper meaningly that Fred Short had been calling himnames behind his back, or something of that sort equally aggravating, toput him in fighting humour. Forthwith, he would challenge Master Fred inthe orthodox way--that is, he would take up a chip, spit on it, and tossit over his shoulder. Without a moment's hesitation, Fred would acceptthe challenge, and then the two would be at it, hammer and tongs, fighting vigorously until they were separated by the originators of themischief, when they thought they had had enough of it. They were veryevenly matched, and as a matter of fact did not do one another muchharm; but the joke of the thing was that they never seemed to suspecthow they were being made tools of by the other boys, who always enjoyedthese duels immensely. 

Another character, and a very lovable one this time, was a nephew of thedoctor's, Will Johnston by name, but universally called "Teter, " an oddnickname, the reason of which he did not seem to understand himself. This Teter was one of those good-natured, obliging, reckless, happy-go-lucky individuals who never fail to win the love of boys. Hisgenerosity was equalled only by his improvidence, and both weresurpassed by his good luck. 

Bert conceived a great admiration for Teter Johnston. His undauntedcourage, as exhibited in snowball fights, when, with only a handful offollowers he would charge upon the rest of the school, and generally putthem to flight; his reckless enterprise and amazing luck at marbles andother games; his constant championing of the small boys when tormentedby the larger ones, more than one bully having had a tremendousthrashing at his hands;--these were very shining qualities in Bert'seyes, and they fascinated him so, that if "fagging" had been permittedat Dr. Johnston's, Bert would have deemed it not a hardship, but anhonour, to have been Teter's "fag. "

In strong contrast to his admiration for Teter Johnston was hisantipathy to Rod Graham. Rod was both a sneak and a bully. It was in hischaracter as a sneak that he showed himself to Bert first, makingprofuse demonstrations of goodwill, and doing his best to ingratiatehimself with him, because from his well-to-do appearance he judged thathe would be a good subject from whom to beg lunch, or borrow marbles, and so on. But Bert instinctively disliked Rod, and avoided him to thebest of his ability. Then Rod revealed the other side of his nature. From a sneak he turned into a bully, and lost no opportunity of teasingand tormenting Bert, who, being much smaller than he, felt compelled tosubmit, although there were times when he was driven almost todesperation. It was not so much by open violence as by underhandedtrickery that Rod vented his spite, and this made it all the harder forBert, who, although he was never in any doubt as to the identity of theperson that stole his lunch, poured ink over his copy-book, scratchedhis slate with a bit of jagged glass, tore the tails off his glengarry, and filled the pockets of his overcoat with snow, still saw no way ofputting a stop to this tormenting other than by thrashing Rod, and thishe did not feel equal to doing. Upon this last point, however, hechanged his mind subsequently, thanks to the influence of his friendTeter Johnston, and the result was altogether satisfactory as will beshown in due time. 

Bert's feelings toward Dr. Johnston himself were, as has been alreadystated, of a mixed nature. At first, he was simply afraid of him, butlittle by little a gentler feeling crept into his heart. Yet, there wasno doubt, the doctor was far more likely to inspire fear than love. Hewielded his authority with an impartial, unsparing hand. No allowancewas ever made for hesitancy or nervousness on the part of the scholarwhen reciting his lesson, nor for ebullitions of boyish spirits whensitting at the desk. "Everything must be done correctly, and in order, "was the motto of his rule. The whippings he administered were about asimpressive a mode of school punishment as could be desired. The unhappyboy who had behaved so ill, or missed so many lessons as to deserve one, heard the awful words, "Stand upon the floor for punishment, " uttered inthe doctor's sternest tones. Trembling in every limb, and feeling coldshivers running up and down his back, while his face flushed fiery red, or paled to ashy white by turns, the culprit would reluctantly leave hisseat, and take his stand in the centre aisle, with the eyes of the wholeschool upon him variously expressing pity, compassion, or perhapsunsympathetic ridicule. 

After he had stood there some time, for be it known this exposure wasan essential part of the punishment, he would see the doctor slowly risefrom his seat, draw forth from its hiding-place the long black strapthat had for so many years been his sceptre, and then come down towardhim with slow, stately steps. Stopping just in front of him, the orderwould be issued: "Hold out your hand. " Quivering with apprehension, theboy would extend his hand but half way, keeping his elbow fast at hisside. But the doctor would not be thus partially obeyed. "Hold _out_your hand, sir!" he would thunder; and out would go the arm to itsfullest length, and with a sharp swish through the air, down would comethe strap, covering the hand from the wrist to finger tip, and sending athrill of agony through every nerve in the body. Ten, twenty, thirty, orin extreme cases, even forty such stripes would be administered, someboys taking them as fast as the doctor could strike, so that the torturemight soon be over, and others pausing between each blow, to rub theirstinging palms together, and bedew them with their tears. 

It was a terrible ordeal, no doubt, and one that would hardly beapproved of to-day, the publicity uniting with the severity to make it acruel strain upon a boy's nervous system. In all the years that Bertspent at Dr. Johnston's school he was called upon to endure it onlyonce, but that once sufficed. The way it came about was this:

Bert one morning happened to be in a more than usually frolicsome mood, and was making pellets out of the soft part of the rolls he had broughtfor lunch, and throwing them about. In trying to hit a boy who satbetween him and Mr. Snelling's desk, he somehow or other miscalculatedhis aim, and to his horror, the sticky pellet flew straight at the baldspot on top of Mr. Snelling's head, as the latter bent his shortsightedeyes over a book before him, hitting it in the centre, and staying therein token of its success. 

With angry face, Mr. Snelling sprang to his feet, and brushing theunlucky pellet from his shiny pate, called out so fiercely as to attractthe doctor's attention:

"Who threw that at me?"

The few boys who were in the secret looked very hard at their books, while those who were not glanced up in surprise, and tried to discoverthe cause of Mr. Snelling's excitement. 

"Who threw that at me?" demanded Mr. Snelling, again. 

Bert, who had at first been so appalled by what he had done that histongue refused to act, was about to call out "It was I, sir, " when RodGraham was seen to hold up his hand, and on Mr. Snelling turninginquiringly toward him, Rod, in a low, sneaking voice, said:

"It was Lloyd, sir; I saw him do it. "

Mr. Snelling immediately called out, "Lloyd, come to my desk;" andBert, feeling hot and cold by turns, went up to the desk, and stoodbefore it, the picture of penitence. 

"Did you throw that pellet?" asked Mr. Snelling, in indignant tones. 

"Yes, sir; but I didn't mean to hit you, sir, " answered Bert, meekly. 

"I know nothing about that, " answered Mr. Snelling, too much excited tolisten to any defence. "Follow me to Dr. Johnston. "

Hastening into the presence of the stern headmaster, Mr. Snelling statedwhat had happened, and pointed to the trembling Bert as the culprit. 

"How do you know he is the offender, Mr. Snelling?" inquired the doctor, gravely. 

"Graham said he saw him do it, sir, and Lloyd confesses it himself, "replied Mr. Snelling. 

"Oh! indeed--that is sufficient. Leave Lloyd with me. " And thusdismissed, Mr. Snelling returned to his desk. 

"Lloyd, I am sorry about this. You must stand upon the floor forpunishment, " said the doctor, turning to Bert; and Bert, chilled to theheart, took his place upon the spot where he had so often pitied otherboys for being. 

Presently, drawing out his strap, the doctor came toward him:

"Hold out your hand, sir. "

Bert promptly extended his right hand to the full. Swish! and down camethe cruel strap upon it, inflicting a burning smart, as though it were ared-hot iron, and sending a thrill of agony through every nerve. Swish!And the left hand was set on fire. Swish! Swish! right and left; rightand left, until twenty stripes had been administered; and then, turningon his heel, the doctor walked solemnly back to his desk. 

During all this torture not a sound had escaped Bert. He felt that thedoctor could not do otherwise than punish him, and he determined to bearthe punishment bravely; so closing his lips tightly, and summoning allhis resolution, he held out one hand after the other, taking the blowsas fast as the doctor could give them. But when the ordeal was over hehurried to his seat, and burying his head in his burning hands, burstinto a passion of tears--for he could control himself no longer. 

A few minutes later his attention was aroused by hearing the doctor callout, in a loud, stern voice:

"Graham, come forward. "

Graham got out of his seat, and in a half-frightened way, slunk up tothe doctor's desk. 

"I understand, Graham, " said the doctor, with his grimmest expression, "that you volunteered to tell Mr. Snelling who it was that threw thatpellet. You know, or ought to know, the rule of this school as toinformers. You will receive the same punishment that I have just givenLloyd. Stand upon the floor. "

Completely taken aback at this unexpected turn in affairs, Rod Grahammechanically took up his position, looking the very picture of abjectmisery. The doctor kept him there for full half-an-hour, and thenadministered twenty stripes, with an unction that showed, clearlyenough, his profound contempt for that most contemptible of beings, aninformer. 

Now, Bert was not an angel, but simply a boy--a very good boy, in manyrespects, no doubt, but a boy, notwithstanding. It would, therefore, bedoing him an injustice to deny that he took a certain delight in seeinghis tormentor receive so sound a whipping, and that it brought, atleast, a temporary balm to his own wounded feelings. But the wound wasaltogether too deep to be cured by this, or by Frank Bowser's heartfeltsympathy, or even by the praise of his schoolmates, many of whom came upto him at recess and told him he was "a brick, " "a daisy, " and so forth, because he had taken a whipping without crying. 

All this could not hide from him what he felt to be the disgrace of thething. So ashamed was he of himself that he could hardly find courage totell them about it at home; and although, easily appreciating the wholesituation, Mr. Lloyd had only words of cheer for him, and none ofcondemnation, Bert still took it so much to heart that the followingSunday he pleaded hard to be allowed to remain away from the Sundayschool, as he did not want to face Mr. Silver and his classmates sosoon. But his father wisely would not suffer this, and so, much againsthis will, he went to school as usual, where, however, he felt very illat ease until the session was over, when he had a long talk with Mr. Silver, and told him the whole story. 

This relieved his mind very much. He felt as if he were square with theworld again, and he went back to Dr. Johnston's far lighter in heart onMonday morning than he had left it on Friday afternoon. He had learned alesson, too, that needed no reteaching throughout the remainder of hisschool days. That was the first and last time Bert Lloyd stood upon thefloor for punishment. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

VICTORY AND DEFEAT. 

As may be easily imagined, Dr. Johnston's severe punishment of RodGraham for having taken upon himself the part of an informer did nottend to make that young gentleman any more pleasant in his bearingtoward Bert. By some process of reasoning, intelligible only to himself, he held Bert accountable for the whipping he had received, and lost noopportunity of wreaking his vengeance upon him. Every now and thenduring that winter Bert had bitter proof of his enemy's unrelentinghate. It seemed as though there were no limit to Rod's ingenuity indevising ways of annoying him, and many a hot tear did he succeed inwringing from him. 

As spring drew near, this persecution grew more and more intolerable, and, without Bert himself being fully conscious of it, a crisis wasinevitable. This crisis came sooner, perhaps, than either Bert or Rodanticipated. One bright spring morning, as Bert, with satchel strappedupon his back, approached the school, feeling in high spirits, andlooking the very picture of a sturdy schoolboy, Rod, who had been inhiding behind a porch, sprang out upon him suddenly, snatched the capoff his head, and, with a shout of, "Fetch it, doggy; go, fetch it, "flung it into the middle of the street, that was now little better thana river of mud. 

This proved to be the last straw upon the back of Bert's endurance, andit broke it. With a quickness that gave his tormentor no chance to dodgeor defend himself, he doubled up his fist, shut his eyes tight, and, rushing at him, struck out with all his might. The blow could hardlyhave been more effective if Bert had been an expert in boxing, for hisfist landed full on Rod's left eye, sending him staggering backwardseveral paces, with his hands clapped over the injured optic. But hesoon recovered himself, and, with clenched fists, was rushing upon Bert, to pummel him fiercely, when Teter Johnston, who had just come up, sprang in between, and, catching Rod's uplifted arm, cried out, sternly:

"Stop, now! none of that! This must be a fair fight, and you shan'tbegin until Lloyd is ready. "

Then turning to Bert, while Rod, who had too much respect for Teter'sprowess not to obey him, gave way with a malignant scowl, Teter said, encouragingly:

"You must fight him, Bert. It's the only way to settle him. You'llthrash him all right enough. I'll see you through. "

Bert had a good many doubts about his thrashing "him all right enough, "but he was still too angry to think calmly, and, moreover, he was not alittle elated at the surprising success of his first blow, which, although struck at a venture, had gone so straight to the mark, and sohe nodded his head in assent. 

"Very well, then, it's a fight, " said Teter to Rod. "In the yard at thenoon recess. You bring your second, Graham; I'll look after Bertmyself. "

The words were hardly uttered when the bell rung, and the boys had allto hurry to their places in the schoolroom. 

That morning was one of the most miserable poor Bert had ever spent. Hewas a prey to the most diverse feelings, and it was with the utmostdifficulty that he could bring his mind to bear sufficiently upon hislessons to keep his place in the classes. In the first place, he reallydreaded the fight with Rod Graham. Graham was older, taller, and muchmore experienced in such affairs, and Bert could see no reason why heshould hope for a victory over him. It was all well enough for dear oldFrank to say from time to time, as he noticed Bert's depression:

"Keep up your spirit, Bert; you'll thrash him sure. And if you don't, Iwill, as sure as I'm alive. "

But that did not make the matter any clearer, for Bert would rather notget a thrashing at Rod's hands, even though Rod should get one atFrank's hands shortly after. 

Then, again, he did not feel at all certain that his father and motherwould approve of his having a fight with one of his schoolmates. Theydisliked anything of the kind, he knew well enough, and perhaps theywould not be willing to make an exception in this case. He wished verymuch he could ask their permission, but that, of course, was out of thequestion. The mere mention of such a thing would assuredly raise a howlof derision from the other boys, and even Teter Johnston would no doubtask contemptuously if "he was going to back out of it in that way. "

No, no; he must take the chances of his parents' approval, andlikewise--and here came in the third difficulty--of Dr. Johnston's also, for he could not help wondering what the doctor would think when heheard of it, as he was certain to do. 

Thus perplexed and bewildered, the morning dragged slowly along forBert, who would one moment be wishing that recess time could bepostponed indefinitely, and the next, impatient for its arrival. 

At length twelve o'clock struck, and the boys, who were by this time allfully aware of what was in the wind, crowded out into the yard andquickly formed a ring in the corner farthest away from the schoolroom. Into this ring presently stepped Rod Graham, looking very jaunty anddefiant, supported by Harry Rawdon, the fly catcher, the one friend hehad in the school. A moment later came Bert Lloyd, pale but determined, with Teter and Frank on either side of him, Frank wearing an expressionthat said as plainly as possible:

"Whip my friend Bert, if you dare. "

It is neither necessary nor expedient to go into the details of thefight, which did not last very long. Acting on Teter's sage advice, Bertmade no attempt to defend himself, but rushing into close quarters atonce, sent in swinging blows with right and left hands alternately, striking Rod upon the face and chest, while the latter's blows fellprincipally upon his forehead; until finally, in the fourth round, Graham, whose face had suffered severely, gave up the contest, andcovering his head, with his hands, ran away from Bert, who was too tiredto pursue him. 

Great was the cheering at this conclusive result; and Bert, panting, perspiring, and exhausted, found himself the centre of a noisy throng ofhis schoolmates, who wrung his hand, clapped him upon the back, calledhim all sorts of names that were complimentary, and, in fact, gave him aregular ovation. After he had gone to the tap and bathed his hot face, Bert was very much pleased to find that the brunt of the battle hadfallen upon his forehead, and that, consequently, he would hardly bemarked at all. To be sure, when he tried to put his cap on, hediscovered that it would be necessary to wear it very much on the backof his head, but he felt like doing that, anyway, so it didn't matter. 

He would have liked to shake hands with Rod, and make it all up, but Rodwas not to be found. After fleeing from his opponent, he had snatched uphis coat, and, deserted even by Rawdon; who was disgusted at his runningaway, he had gone out into the street, and did not appear again for therest of the day. 

His victory worked a great change in Bert's feelings. He was no longertroubled about what his parents would think of the fight. He felt surethey would applaud him, now that he had come out of it with bannersflying, so to speak. And he was not far from right, either. Mrs. Lloyd, it is true, was a good deal shocked at first, and Mr. Lloyd questionedhim very closely; but when they heard the whole story, much of which, indeed, was already familiar to them, they both agreed that under thecircumstances Bert could not have acted otherwise, without placinghimself in a false position. 

"At the same time, Bert, dear, " said his father, laying his hand uponhis shoulder, "as it is your first, so I hope it will be your lastfight. You have established your reputation for courage now. You cansustain it in other ways than by your fists. "

Dr. Johnston's method of showing that he was fully cognisant of theevent was highly characteristic. The next morning when Bert, withswollen forehead, and Rod, with blackened eyes, came before him in thesame class, he said, with one of his sardonic smiles:

"Ah, Graham, I see Lloyd has been writing his autograph on you. Well, let that be an end of it. Shake hands with one another. "

Bert immediately put out his hand and grasped Rod's, which was but halfextended. 

"Very good, " said the doctor. "We will now proceed with the lesson. "

One of the most interested and excited spectators of the fight had beenDick Wilding, a boy who will require a few words of description. He wasthe son of one of the merchant princes of the city, and was accustomedto everything that the highest social station and abundant wealth couldprocure. He was a handsome young fellow, and although thoroughly spoiledand selfish, was not without his good points, a lavish generosity beingthe most noteworthy. This, of course, supplemented by his recklessdaring as regards all schoolboy feats, and natural aptitude forschoolboy sports, made him very popular at the school, and he had alarge following. Previous to Bert's decisive victory over Rod Graham, hehad not shown any particular interest in him, beyond committing himselfto the opinion that he was a "regular brick" on the occasion of thehoisting, and again, when Bert bore his whipping so manfully. But sincethe fight, he had exhibited a strong desire to have Bert join the circleof his companions, and to this end cultivated his society in a verymarked way. 

Now, this same Dick Wilding had been in Mrs. Lloyd's mind when she hadhesitated about Bert's going to Dr. Johnston's. She knew well what hisbringing up had been, and had heard several stories about him, whichmade her dread his being a companion for Bert. She had accordinglyspoken to Bert about Dick, and while taking care not to be too pointed, had made it clear that she did not want them to be intimate. This waswhen Bert first went to the school, and as there had seemed no prospectof anything more than a mere acquaintance springing up between the twoboys, nothing had been said on the subject for some time, so that it wasnot fresh in his mind when Dick, somewhat to his surprise, showed such adesire for his society. 

Dick's latest enterprise was the organisation of a cricket club, intowhich he was putting a great deal of energy. As the bats and balls andother necessary articles were to be paid for out of his own pocket, hefound no difficulty in getting recruits, and the list of members wasfast filling up. Bert had heard a good deal about this club, and wouldhave liked very much to belong to it, but as nobody belonged exceptthose who had been invited by Dick, his prospects did not seem verybright. Great then was his delight when one day at recess, Dick came upto him and said in his most winning way:

"Say, Bert, don't you want to join my cricket club? I'd like to have youin. "

Bert did not take long to answer. 

"And I'd like to join ever so much, " he replied, in great glee. 

"All right, then; consider yourself a member, and come round to thefield behind our house this afternoon. We practise there every day. "

Bert was fairly dancing with joy. Yet he did not forget his friendFrank. If Frank were not a member of the club, too, half the pleasure ofit would be gone. So before Dick went off, he ventured to say:

"Frank Bowser would like to belong, too, I know. Won't you ask him?"

"Certainly. No objection at all, " replied Dick, in an off-hand way. "Bring him along with you this afternoon. "

With beaming face, Bert rushed over to where Frank was busy playingmarbles, and drawing him aside, shouted rather than whispered in hisear:

"I've got something splendid to tell you. Dick Wilding has asked us bothto join his cricket club, and we're to go to his field this veryafternoon. "

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Frank, his face now beaming as brightly asBert's. "Isn't that just splendid! I wanted to belong to that club everso much, but was afraid Dick wouldn't ask me. "

They had a capital game of cricket that afternoon in the Wilding field, which made a very good ground indeed, and not only that afternoon, butfor many afternoons as spring passed into summer and the days grewlonger and warmer. Bert told them at home about the club, but somehowomitted to mention the prominent part Dick Wilding played in it. Infact, he never mentioned his name at all, nor that it was his father'sfield in which the club met. This was the first step in a path of wrong, the taking of which was soon to lead to serious consequences. 

His reason for suppressing Dick Wilding's name was plain enough. He knewthat in all probability it would put an end to his connection with theclub. Now this club had every attraction for a boy like Bert that suchan organisation could possibly possess. It was select and exclusive, fornone could belong except those who were invited by Dick. The field was alovely place to play in, and they had it all to themselves. The ballsand bats and stumps were first-class, a fine set of cricket gear havingbeen one of Dick's Christmas presents; and, finally, Dick was alwaysbringing out to the players iced lemonade, or ginger beer, or sprucebeer, or something of the kind, which was wonderfully welcome to themwhen hot and tired and thirsty. 

With such strong arguments as these, Bert did not find it difficult toquiet his conscience when it troubled him, as it did now and then, andhe continued to be a great deal in Dick Wilding's society untilsomething happened which caused him to bitterly regret that he had notheeded the inward monitor, and kept away from the associations his wisemother wished him to avoid. 

Mrs. Lloyd had good reason for dreading Dick Wilding's companionship forher boy, as Dick could hardly fail to do Bert harm, while the chances ofBert doing him any good were very small, since he was quite a year olderand well set in his own ways. Dick's parents were thorough people of theworld. Their religion consisted in occupying a velvet-cushioned pew in afashionable church on Sunday morning, and doing as they pleased the restof the day. They made no attempt to teach their son anything more thangood manners, taking it quite for granted that the other virtues wouldspring up of themselves. Dick was not much to be blamed, therefore, ifhe had rather hazy views about right and wrong. He had not really anevil nature, but he had a very easy conscience, and the motto by whichhe shaped his conduct might well have been: "Get your own way. Get ithonestly, if you can. But--get it. "

Now, this cricket club had taken a great hold upon his fancy, and hiswhole heart was wrapped up in it. He was captain, of course, and all theother boys obeyed him implicitly. Their docility ministered to hispride, and he showed his appreciation by fairly showering his bountyupon them. There positively seemed no end to his pocket money. All sortsof expenses were indulged in. A fine tent was set up for the boys toput their hats and coats in and sit under when not playing, theginger-beer man had orders to call round every afternoon and leave adozen bottles of his refreshing beverage, and more than once the club, instead of playing, adjourned, at Dick's invitation, to an ice-creamsaloon, and had a regular feast of ice-cream. When some indiscreetcompanion would express his astonishment at the length of Dick's purse, the latter would answer, carelessly:

"Plenty of funds. Father, and mother, and uncle all give me money. There's lots more where this came from, " jingling a handful of silver ashe spoke. So, indeed, there was; but had it any business to be in MasterDick's pocket?

This delightful state of affairs went on for some weeks, no one enjoyingit more than Bert, and then came a revelation that broke upon the boyslike a thunder-clap out of a clear sky. 

One evening, Mr. Wilding came over to see Mr. Lloyd, looking very graveand troubled. They had a long talk together in Mr. Lloyd's study, andwhen he went away Mr. Lloyd looked as grave and troubled as his visitor. After showing Mr. Wilding out, he called his wife into the library, andcommunicated to her what he had just heard, and it must have beensorrowful news, for Mrs. Lloyd's face bore unmistakable signs of tears, when presently she went out for Bert, who was hard at work upon hislessons in the dining-room. 

The moment Bert entered the room he saw that something was the matter. The faces of his father and mother were very sorrowful, and anindefinable feeling of apprehension took hold of him. He was not longleft in uncertainty as to the cause of the trouble. 

"Bert, " said his father, gravely, "have you seen much of Dick Wildinglately?"

Bert blushed, and hesitated a moment, and then answered:

"Yes, father; a good deal. He's the captain of our cricket club, youknow. "

"I did not know until now that you have told me, Bert, " said Mr. Lloyd, looking meaningly at him. "You never told me before, did you?"

The colour deepened on Bert's face. 

"No, father; I don't think I did, " he murmured. 

"Had you any reason for saying nothing about him, Bert? Were you afraidwe would not let you belong to the club if we knew that Dick Wilding wasits captain?" asked Mr. Lloyd. 

Bert made no reply, but his head drooped low upon his breast, and hishands playing nervously with the buttons of his coat told the wholestory more plainly than words could have done. Mr. Lloyd sighed deeplyand looked at his wife as though to say: "There's no doubt about it; ourboy has been deceiving us, " while Mrs. Lloyd's eyes once more filledwith tears, which she turned away to hide. 

After a pause, during which Bert seemed to hear the beating of his ownheart as distinctly as the ticking of the big clock upon the mantel, Mr. Lloyd said, in tones that showed deep feeling:

"We would have been sorry enough to find out that our boy had beendeceiving us, but what shall we say at finding out that he has been asharer in pleasures purchased with stolen money?"

Bert looked up in surprise. Stolen money! What could his father mean?Mr. Lloyd understood the movement, and anticipated the unasked question. 

"Yes, Bert; stolen money. The beer, the candy, and the ice cream, whichDick Wilding lavished upon you so freely, were paid for with moneystolen from his mother's money drawer. He found a key which fitted thelock, and has taken out, no one knows just how much money; and you havebeen sharing in what that stolen money purchased. "

Bert was fairly stunned. Dick Wilding a thief! And he a sharer in theproceeds of his guilt! He felt as though he must run and hide himself. That Dick should do wrong was not entirely a surprise to him, but thathis sin in being a companion of Dick's on the sly should be found out inthis way, this it was which cut him to the heart. Without a word ofexcuse to offer, he sat there, self-condemned and speechless. Thesilence of the room was appalling. He could not bear it any longer. Springing from his chair, he rushed across the room, threw himself onhis knees before his mother, and putting his head in her lap, burst intoa paroxysm of tears, sobbing as though his heart would break. 

"Poor Bert, poor Bert!" murmured his mother, tenderly, passing her handsoftly over the curly head in her lap. 

Mr. Lloyd was deeply moved, and put his hand up to his eyes to concealthe tears fast welling from them. For some minutes the quiet of the roomwas broken only by Bert's sobs, and the steady ticking of the clock uponthe mantelpiece. 

Mr. Lloyd was the first to speak. 

"You had better get up and go to your room, Bert. We both know how sorryyou are, and we forgive you for having so disobeyed us. But we are notthe only ones of whom you must ask forgiveness. Go to your knees, Bert, and ask God to forgive you. "

Bert rose slowly to his feet, and, not venturing to look either hisfather or mother in the face, was going out of the door, when his fathercalled him back. 

"Just one word more, Bert. It is not long since you won a brave fight, and now you have been sadly defeated by a far worse enemy than RodGraham. You can, in your own strength, overcome human foes, but only byDivine strength can you overcome the tempter that has led you astraythis time. Pray for this strength, Bert, for it is the kind the Biblemeans when it says, 'Quit you like men, be strong. '"

And with a look of deep affection, Mr. Lloyd let Bert go from him. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A NARROW ESCAPE. 

So keenly did Bert feel his disgrace, that it was some time before heregained his wonted spirits; and his continued depression gave hismother no little concern, so that she took every way of showing to himthat her confidence in him was unimpaired, and that she asked no furtherproof of his penitence than he had already given. But Bert's sensitivenature had received a shock from which it did not readily recover. Fromhis earliest days he had been peculiarly free from the desire to takewhat did not belong to him; and as he grew older, this had developedinto a positive aversion to anything that savoured of stealing in theslightest degree. He never could see any fun in "hooking" another boy'slunch, as so many others did, and nothing could induce him to join inone of the numerous expeditions organised to raid sundry unguardedorchards in the outskirts of the city. 

His firmness upon this point led to a curious scene one afternoon. School was just out, and a group of the boys, among whom were Bert, and, of course, Frank Bowser, was discussing what they should do withthemselves, when Ned Ross proposed that they should go out to theHosterman orchard, and see if they could not get some apples. A chorusof approval came from all but Bert, who immediately turned away and madeas though he would go home. 

"Hallo! Bert, " cried Ned Ross, "aren't you coming?"

"No, " replied Bert, very decidedly. "I'm not. "

"Why not?" inquired Ned. "What's the matter?"

"Those are not our apples, Ned, and we've got no right to touch 'em, "answered Bert. 

"Bosh and nonsense!" exclaimed Ned. "All the boys take them, and nobodyever hinders them. Come along. "

"No, " said Bert, "I can't. "

"Can't? Why can't you?" persisted Ned, who was rapidly losing histemper. 

Bert hesitated a moment, and the colour mounted high in his cheeks. Thenhe spoke out his reason bravely:

"Because I'm a Christian, Ned; and it would not be right for me to doit. "

"A Christian?" sneered Ned. "You'd be nearer the truth if you said acoward. "

The words had hardly left his lips before Frank Bowser was standingbefore him, shaking in his face a fist that was not to be regardedlightly. 

"Say that again, " cried Frank, wrathfully, "and I'll knock you down!"

Ned looked at Frank's face, and then at his fist. There was no mistakingthe purpose of either, and as Frank was fully his match, if not more, hethought it prudent to say nothing more than: "Bah! Come on, fellows. Wecan get along without him. "

The group moved off; but Bert was not the only one who stayed behind. Frank stayed too; and so did Ernest Linton. And these three sought theiramusement in another direction. 

That scene very vividly impressed Bert, and over and over again hethought to himself: "What will the boys who heard me refuse to go to theorchard, because I am a Christian, think of me when they hear that Ihave been helping to spend stolen money?"

This was the thought that troubled him most, but it was not the onlyone. He felt that he could not be at ease with his beloved Sunday-schoolteacher again, until he had made a full confession to him. But, oh! thisdid seem so hard to do! Several Sundays passed without his being able tomake up his mind to do it. At length he determined to put it off nolonger, and one Sunday afternoon, lingering behind after the school hadbeen dismissed, he poured the whole story into Mr. Silver's sympatheticear. 

Mr. Silver was evidently moved to the heart, as Bert, without sparinghimself, told of his disobedience, his concealment, and theconsequences that followed; and he had many a wise and tender word forthe boy, whose confidence in him made him proud. From that day apeculiar fondness existed between the two, and Mr. Silver was inspiredto increased fidelity and effort in his work because of the knowledgethat one at least of his boys looked upon him with such affection andconfidence. 

Once that summer had fairly come to stay, the wharves of the city becamefull of fascination for the boys, and every afternoon they troopedthither to fish for perch and tommy cods; to board the vessels lying intheir berths, and out-do one another in feats of rigging climbing; toplay glorious games of "hide-and-seek, " and "I spy, " in the greatcavernous warehouses, and when tired to gather around some idle sailor, and have him stir their imagination with marvellous stories of the sea. 

For none had the wharves more attraction than for Bert and Frank, andalthough Mrs. Lloyd would not allow the former to go down Water Street, where he would be far from home, she did not object to his spending anafternoon now and then on a wharf not far from their own house. Sothither the two friends repaired at every opportunity, and fine fun theyhad, dropping their well-baited hooks into the clear green water, tocatch eager perch, or watching the hardworking sailors dragging hugecasks of molasses out of dark and grimy holds, and rolling them up thewharf to be stored in the vast cool warehouses, or running risks ofbeing pickled themselves, as they followed the fish-curers in their workof preparing the salt herring or mackerel for their journey to the hotWest Indies. There never was any lack of employment, for eyes, or hands, or feet, on that busy wharf, and the boys felt very proud when they werepermitted to join the workers sometimes and do their little best, whichwas all the more enjoyable because they could stop whenever they liked, and hadn't to work all day as the others did. 

Nor were these the only attractions. The principal business done at thiswharf was with the West Indies, and no vessel thought of coming backfrom that region of fruits without a goodly store of oranges, bananas, and pine-apples, some of which, if the boys were not too troublesome, and the captain had made a good voyage, were sure to find their way intovery appreciative mouths. Bert's frank, bright manner, and pluckyspirit, made him a great favourite with the captains, and many a timewas he sent home with a big juicy pine, or an armful of great goldenoranges. 

One day, when Bert and Frank went down to the wharf, they found astrange-looking vessel made fast to the piles that filled them withcuriosity. She was a barquentine, and was sparred, and rigged, andpainted in a rather unusual way, the explanation of it all being thatshe was a Spanish vessel, of an old-fashioned type. Quite in keepingwith the appearance of the vessel was the appearance of the crew. Theywere nearly all Lascars, and with their tawny skins, flashing eyes, jetblack hair, and gold-ringed ears, seemed to fit very well thedescription of the pirates, whose dreadful deeds, as graphicallydescribed in sundry books, had given the boys many a delicious thrill ofhorror. This resemblance caused them to look upon the foreigners withsome little fear at first, but their curiosity soon overcame allconsiderations of prudence, and after hanging about for a while, theybashfully accepted the invitation extended them by a swarthy sailor, whose words were unintelligible, but whose meaning was unmistakable. 

On board the _Santa Maria_--for that was the vessel's name--they foundmuch to interest them, and the sailors treated them very kindly, inspite of their piratical appearance. What delighted them most was amonkey that belonged to the cook. He was one of the cutest, cleverestlittle creatures that ever parodied humanity. His owner had taught him agood many tricks, and he had taught himself even more; and both the boysfelt that in all their lives they had never seen so entertaining a pet. He completely captivated them, and they would have given all theypossessed to make him their own. But the cook had no idea of partingwith him, even had it been in their power to buy him; so they had tocontent themselves with going down to see him as often as they could. 

Of course, they told their schoolmates about him, and of course theschoolmates were set wild with curiosity to see this marvellous monkey, and they flocked down to the _Santa Maria_ in such numbers, and sooften, that at last the sailors got tired of them. A mob of schoolboysinvading the deck every afternoon, and paying uproarious homage to thecleverness of a monkey, was more or less of a nuisance. Accordingly, byway of a gentle hint, the rope ladder, by which easy access was had tothe vessel, was removed, and a single rope put in its place. 

It happened that the first afternoon after this had been done, the crowdof visitors was larger than ever; and when they arrived at the _SantaMaria's_ side, and found the ladder gone, they were, as may be easilyimagined, very much disgusted. A rope might be good enough for a sailor, but the boys very much preferred a ladder, and they felt disposed toresent the action of the sailors in thus cutting off their means ofascent. The fact that it was high tide at the time, and the tall sidesof the ship towered above the wharf, constituted a further grievance inthe boys' minds. They held an impromptu indignation meeting forthwith. But, although they were unanimous in condemning the conduct of theforeigners, who evidently did not know any better, they were still nonearer the monkey. 

"Why not try to shin up the rope?" asked Frank Bowser, after a while. 

"All right, if you'll give us a lead, " replied one of the others. 

"Very well--here goes!" returned Frank. And without more ado he graspedthe rope, planted his feet firmly against the vessel's side, and beganto ascend. It was evidently not the easiest thing in the world to do, but his pluck, determination, and muscle conquered; and presently, somewhat out of breath, he sat upon the bulwark, and, waving his cap tothe boys below, gasped out:

"Come along, boys! It's as easy as winking. "

Not to be outdone, several others made the attempt and succeeded also. Then came Bert's turn. Although so many had got up all right, he somehowfelt a little nervous, and made one or two false starts, climbing up alittle way and then dropping back again. This caused those who werewaiting to become impatient, and while Bert was about making anotherstart, one of them who stood behind him gave him a sharp push, saying:

"Hurry up there, slow coach. "

As it happened, Bert was just at that moment changing his grip upon therope, and balancing himself upon the extreme edge of the stringer, whichformed the edge of the wharf. The ill-timed push caught him unawares. Hethrew out his arms to steady himself, and the rope slipped altogetherfrom his grasp. The next instant, with a cry of fear that was taken upby the boys standing helplessly about, he fell over into the dark, swirling water, between the vessel's side and the wharf. 

Down, down, down he went, while the water roared in his ears with thethunders of Niagara, and filled his mouth with its sickening brine, asinstinctively he opened it to cry for help. He could not swim a stroke, but he had a good idea of what the motions were, and so now, in adesperate effort to save his life, he struck out vigorously with hishands. It must have helped him, too; for out of the darkness into whichhe had been plunged at first, he emerged into a lighter place, where, through the green water, he could see his hands looking very white, asthey moved before his face. 

But this did not bring him to the surface; so he tried another plan. Doubling his sturdy legs beneath him, he shot them out as he had seenother boys do when "treading water. " A thrill of joy inspired him as theeffort succeeded, and, his head rising above the surface, he got onegood breath before sinking again. But the pitiless water engulfed himonce more, and, though he struggled hard, he seemed unable to keephimself from sinking deeper still. Then the desire to struggle began toleave him. Life seemed no longer a thing to be fiercely striven for. Astrange peace stole over his mind, and was followed by a still strangerthing; for while he floated there, an unresisting prey to the deep, itappeared as though all the events of his past life were crowding beforehim like some wonderful panorama. From right to left they followed oneanother in orderly procession, each as clear and distinct as a paintedpicture, and he was watching them with absorbed, painless interest, whensomething dark came across his vision; he felt himself grasped firmlyand drawn swiftly through the water, and the next thing he knew, he wasin the light and air again, and was being handed up to the top of thewharf by men who passed him carefully from one to the other. In the verynick of time rescue had come, and Bert was brought back to life. 

Now, who was his rescuer, and what took place while Bert was strugglingfor his life in the cold, dark water? The instant he disappeared theboys shouted and shrieked in such a way as to bring the whole crew ofthe _Santa Maria_ to the bulwarks, over which they eagerly peered, notunderstanding what was the matter. Frank, who was in a frenzy of anxietyand alarm, tried hard to explain to them; but his efforts wereunavailing until the reappearance of Bert's head made the matter plainat once, and then he thought they would, of course, spring to therescue. But they did not. They looked at one another, and jabberedsomething unintelligible, but not one of them moved, though Frank seizedthe liveliest of them by the arm, and, pointing to the place where Bertvanished, again indicated, by unmistakable gestures, what he wanted himto do. The man simply shook his head and moved away. He either couldnot swim, or did not think it worth while to risk his precious life intrying to rescue one of the foreign urchins that had been bothering the_Santa Maria_ of late. Had Bert's life depended upon these men, it mighthave been given up at once. 

But there was other help at hand. John Connors, the good-natured Irishstorekeeper, by whose sufferance the boys were permitted to make aplayground of the wharf, had heard their frantic cries, although he wasaway up in one of the highest flats of the farthest store. Withoutstopping to see what could be the matter, Connors leaped down the longflights of stairs at a reckless rate, and ran toward the shrieking boys. 

"Bert's overboard--save him!" they cried, as he burst into their midst. 

"Where?" he asked, breathlessly, while he flung off his boots. 

"There--just there, " they replied, pointing to where Bert had last beenseen. 

Balancing himself for an instant on the end of the stringer, Connors, with the spring of a practised swimmer, dived into the depths anddisappeared; while the boys, in the silence of intense anxiety, crowdedas close as they dared to the edge of the wharf, and the Lascars lookeddown from their bulwarks in stolid admiration. There were some momentsof harrowing uncertainty, and then a shout arose from the boys, whicheven the swarthy sailors imitated, after a fashion; for cleaving thebubbled surface came the head of brave John Connors, and, close besideit, the dripping curls of Bert Lloyd, the faces of both showing greatexhaustion. 

The sailors were all alert now. Ropes were hastily flung over the side, and swarming down these with the agility of monkeys, they took Bert outof his rescuer's hands and passed him up to the wharf; Connors followedunassisted, so soon as he had recovered his breath. 

Once upon the wharf, they were surrounded by a noisy group of boys, overjoyed at their playmate's happy escape from death, and overflowingwith admiration for his gallant rescuer. Bert very quickly came tohimself--for he had not indeed entirely lost consciousness--and thenConnors told him just how he had got hold of him:

"When I dived down first I couldn't see anything of you at all, my boy, and I went hunting about with my eyes wide open and looking for you. Atlast, just as I was about giving you up, I saw something dark below methat I thought might, p'r'aps, be yourself. So I just stuck out my foot, and by the powers if it didn't take you right under the chin. As quickas a wink I drew you toward me, and once I had a good grip of you, I putfor the top as hard as I could go; and here we are now, safe and sound. And, faith, I hope you won't be trying it again in a hurry. "

[Illustration: BERT RESCUED. --_Page_ 214. ]

Bert was very much in earnest when he assured him he would not, andstill more in earnest when he tried to express his gratitude. ButConnors would none of it. 

"Not at all, not at all, my boy, " said he, with a laugh. "A fine youngchap like you is well worth saving any day, and it's not in John Connorsto stand by and see you drown, even if those black-faced furriners don'tknow any better. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

LEARNING TO SWIM. 

Bert's appearance, when he made his way home with dripping clothes, andface still pale from what he had undergone, created no smallconsternation. His sister was particularly alarmed, and it took sometime to convince her that, once having got out of the grasp of thegreedy water, he was really in no more danger. Had she been permitted tohave her own way, she would have bundled him off to bed forthwith, andfilled up any little corners inside of him that the sea water had leftunoccupied, with warm raspberry vinegar. But Bert would none of it, andMrs. Lloyd, although a good deal startled at first, soon recovered herself-possession sufficiently to agree with him, when he insisted thatall he wanted was some dry clothes and a rest. 

The dry clothes were quickly furnished, and having put them on, hereturned to the sitting-room to tell them all about his rescue, Frankbeing at hand to fill in any details that he missed in the recital. Thetears stood in his mother's eyes, as he related what he had felt andthought during those eventful moments when his life hung in the balance;tears of distress, of sympathy, of joy, and finally of gratitude, as inglowing words he described how noble John Connors had dived away downinto the dark green depths to rescue him just in the nick of time. 

"Oh, Bert, darling, " she exclaimed, when he had finished, folding him toher breast, "how good God was to send dear, brave Connors to your help!We cannot praise Him enough, and, dearest, don't you think He mustintend you to be something good and great for Him, when He thus sparedyour life? And that dear man Connors!--I feel as though I could kiss thehands that drew you from the water. Your father must go to-night, andtell him how grateful we are; and he must do more than that--he mustreward him well for running such a risk to save our boy. "

When Mr. Lloyd came home and learned what had happened, he made nopretence of concealing his emotion. The very thought of losing in thatdreadful way the boy who was the joy and pride of his life filled himwith horror, and no words could express his fervent gratitude toConnors, and to God, for sending so courageous a rescuer. So soon asdinner was over he set off in search of him, taking Bert with him. Connors's home was easily found, and Connors himself sat smoking hisevening pipe upon the door-step, as unconcernedly as though he had donenothing out of the way that afternoon. 

The object of Mr. Lloyd's visit was soon made known, but he found moredifficulty than he expected in giving such expression as he desired tothe gratitude he felt. Connors was quite willing to be thanked, andaccepted Mr. Lloyd's fervent words with a respectful acquiescence thatwell became him, but when Mr. Lloyd broached the subject of a moretangible reward, Connors quite as respectfully, but very firmly, refused. 

"I want no reward for saving your boy, sir. It's proud I am of pullingso fine a boy as that out of the water. I did no more than you'd do formy boy, sir, if he were in the same scrape, " said he, in reply to Mr. Lloyd's delicately worded offer. 

"That may be, Connors. I'm sure I would do as you say, but all the sameI would feel much more comfortable if you would accept this purse assome expression of my gratitude, " urged Mr. Lloyd. 

"And, thanking you kindly, sir, I'd feel much more comfortable if Ididn't take it, " returned Connors, in a tone there was no mistaking. SoMr. Lloyd, resolving in his mind that he would find out some other wayof rewarding the worthy fellow, said no more then, and shortly aftertook his leave. 

As Bert and his father walked home together they were still talkingabout the event of the afternoon. 

"If you had been drowned, Bert, it would to some extent have been myfault, " said Mr. Lloyd; "for I should not have so long neglectedteaching you to swim. A boy of your age ought to be well able to takecare of himself in the water, and I should have seen that you were. However, now that this escape of yours has waked me up, I will attend tothe matter at once. So we will begin to-morrow morning, Bert, and have aswimming lesson every day before breakfast. "

"Oh, father; I'm so glad, " exclaimed Bert, skipping about joyfully. "Iwant to know how to swim ever so much, and I'll soon learn if you'llteach me. "

"All right, my boy. You see to waking me in good time, and I'll see thatyou learn to swim, " replied Mr. Lloyd, clapping Bert affectionately onthe back. 

The next morning at six o'clock Bert was rapping loudly on his father'sdoor, and calling upon him to get up, and a quarter of an hour later thepair with towels on their arms were off in the direction of a secluded, deserted wharf that would just suit their purpose. 

On arriving at this place, Mr. Lloyd showed Bert how he proposed toteach him to swim, and it certainly was about as excellent a way ascould well have been devised. He had brought with him two things besidesthe towels: a piece of rope about the thickness of a clothes line, andten yards or more in length, and a strong linen band, two yards inlength. The linen band he put round Bert's shoulders in such a way thatthere was no possibility of its slipping, or interfering with the actionof his arms; and then the rope was so fastened to the band that whenBert was in the water his father, standing on the wharf above him, couldhold him in just the right position for swimming. 

The preparations having been completed, Bert was bidden descend thesteps and plunge into the water. He started off bravely enough, but whenhe reached the bottom step he hesitated. The water was at least ten feetin depth beneath him, and he had never been "over his head, " as theysay, before, except when he came so near being drowned. Naturally, therefore, he shrank from committing himself to the deep in thisfashion. 

"Well, Bert, what's the matter? Are you afraid the water is too cold?"asked his father, as he noticed his hesitation. 

"No, father; not exactly, " answered Bert, feeling half ashamed ofhimself. 

"You're afraid it's too deep, then?" suggested Mr. Lloyd. And Bertlooked up with a smile that showed he had hit the mark. 

"Never mind, my boy, " said Mr. Lloyd, cheeringly. "You're all right. Iwon't let go of you. Jump in like a man. "

Bert hung back a moment; then, shutting his mouth tightly and closinghis eyes, he sprang boldly into the cool, green water. He went under alittle at first, but a slight tug on the rope brought him quickly to thetop, and recovering his breath and his self-possession at the same time, he struck out with his arms and kicked with his legs, according to thebest of his ability. His motions were sadly unskilful, as may be easilyimagined, and although they used up his strength pretty rapidly, theywould not have kept his head above water for a minute; but a gentlepressure on the rope in Mr. Lloyd's hand made that all right, and, feeling quite at his ease, Bert struggled away until he was tired out, and then his father, who had all the time been cheering and directinghim, drew him back to the steps, and the lesson was over. 

"You did very well, Bert; very well, indeed, " said he, in tones of warmapproval, as Bert proceeded to rub off the salt water and get into hisclothes again. "I don't think it will take a great many lessons to makea swimmer of you. "

And Mr. Lloyd's confidence was well founded; for so earnestly did Bertgive himself to the business of learning to swim that by the end of afortnight he could go ten yards out and back without any help from therope at all. Another fortnight and the rope was no longer needed. Mr. Lloyd now went into the water with Bert, and swimming out to the middleof the dock, would have the boy come to him, and after resting upon hisbroad shoulders a moment, make his way back to the steps again. 

Thus, in little more than a month, Bert became quite able to take careof himself in the water under ordinary circumstances; and his father, feeling well satisfied with his proficiency, gave him liberty to go tothe wharves as often as he pleased--a boon Bert highly appreciated. 

A pleasure unshared by his faithful Frank was but half a pleasure toBert. Next in importance to his being able to swim himself was Frank'sacquiring the same invaluable accomplishment. Invaluable? Yes, one mightindeed rightly use a stronger term, and say indispensable; for theeducation of no boy is complete until he has mastered the art ofswimming. And if the boys knew their own interests as thoroughly astheir parents and guardians ought to know them, they would agitate allover the land for the provision of swimming baths in connection withtheir schools, or in some other way that would ensure them theopportunity of learning what to do with themselves in the water, as wellas upon the land. 

Frank could swim a stroke or two before Bert took him in hand, andconsequently was soon able to dispense with the rope; but timid littleErnest Linton, who was the next pupil, took a lot of teaching, and thereseemed small prospect of his conquering his timidity sufficiently to "goit alone" before the swimming season would be over. 

The fame of Bert's swimming school spread among his playmates to anextent that threatened to be embarrassing. By the time they were halfway through the mid-summer holidays, a crowd of boisterous youngstersgathered every morning at the old wharf, and struggled for the use ofband and rope, until at last there had to be several of these provided. Then they had fine fun. A dozen boys would be in the water at the sametime--some of them expert swimmers, the others in all stages oflearning--and there would be races, splashing matches, unexpectedduckings, sly tricks upon the nervous learners, and all sorts of capers, such as might be expected from boys of their age and enterprise. 

By way of deepening the interest in this healthful amusement, theyorganised a competition, the prizes being supplied by their parents, whowere duly waited upon by a properly-authorised committee; and one fineAugust afternoon, the sleepy old wharf was made to fairly tremble withexcitement, as race followed race in quick succession, amid the cheeringand shouting of some two-score vigorous boys. Much to his delight, Franksucceeded in carrying off the first prize. He was a persistent, painstaking fellow when his interest was thoroughly aroused, and whileother chaps were skylarking about in the water, he had been practisinglong swims, the consequence of which was that at the competition--when, of course, the best prize was given for the longest race; the course, in this instance, being out to the head of the wharf, and back--Frankleft all the other contestants behind, and came in an easy winner. 

Bert was exceedingly pleased. He had not won any prizes himself, exceptan unimportant little second one; but Frank's success more than consoledhim, and he bore him off home with him in high glee, that the familymight share in the joy of the occasion. 

Nearly two years now had passed since the two friends first made oneanother's acquaintance, and the course of events had fully confirmed theexpectation of Bert's parents, that he would be far more likely toinfluence Frank for good than Frank would be to influence him for evil. There had been unmistakable improvement in Frank, both in manners andmorals. Constant association with a playmate brought up under homeinfluences so different from his own; the wise and kindly words that Mr. And Mrs. Lloyd lost no opportunity of speaking to him; the refinementand brightness of their home; the atmosphere of sunny religion thatpervaded it; and all these supplemented by an ever-interestingpresentation of common-sense Christianity at the hands of Mr. Silverevery Sunday afternoon, had worked deep into Frank's strong, steadfastnature, and without being distinctly conscious of it himself, he wasgrowing refined, pure, and religious in thought and desire, like thosewith whom it was the joy of his life to associate. The current of hisbeing had been turned Godward, and in him, though he knew it not, Berthad won the first star for his crown. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

HOW HOISTING WAS ABOLISHED. 

The month of September was close at hand, and Bert would soon begin hissecond year with Dr. Johnston. Mr. Lloyd, though well content with theprogress his son had been making in his studies, thought it would be awise thing to hold out some extra inducement that might incite him tostill greater diligence, and so one evening, while the family weresitting together, he broached the subject:

"Dr. Johnston gives a lot of prizes at the end of the term, doesn't he, Bert?"

"Yes, father, a good many; always books, you know, " answered Bert. 

"Why didn't you get a prize of some kind last term?" asked Mr. Lloyd, with a smile. 

"Oh, I don't know, father. Didn't try hard enough, I suppose, " repliedBert, smiling in his turn. 

"Well, do you intend to try this term, Bert?"

"Indeed I do; and Frank's going to try, too. My best chance is in thearithmetic, so I'm going to try for that; and he's going in forgrammar. "

"Very well, then, Bert, do your best; and if you win a prize I will giveyou what you have wanted so long--a pony. "

The expression of Bert's countenance at this quite unexpectedannouncement was a study. His eyes and mouth, the former with surprise, the latter with a smile, opened to their fullest extent, and for amoment he stood motionless. Then, springing across the floor, he leapedinto his father's lap, put both arms around his neck, and burying hishappy face in the brown whiskers, ejaculated, fervently:

"You dear, dear father, you dear, dear father, how I do love you!"

Mr. Lloyd returned the affectionate hug with interest, and then, holdingBert out on his knee, said, in a playful tone:

"Aren't you in too much of a hurry about thanking me, Bert? You haven'twon your pony yet, you know. "

"That's all right, father, " returned Bert. "I mean to win it, and what'smore, I'm going to. "

It need hardly be said that the first item of news Bert had for hisfriend Frank next morning was his father's offer. 

"Won't it be splendid to have a pony of my very own!" he exclaimed, hiseyes dancing with delight at the prospect. "Perhaps your father willgive you a pony, too, if you win a prize; hey, Frank?"

Frank shook his head dubiously:

"Not much chance of that, Bert. That's not his way of doing things. "

"Oh, well, never mind. You can ride turn about with me on mine, andwe'll have just splendid fun. "

As the boys were talking together, little Ernest Linton approached, looking as if he had something on his mind. Getting close to Bert, hetouched him gently on the arm to attract his attention, and, turning avery earnest, appealing face to his, said:

"Bert, I want to ask a favour. "

"Hallo, Ernie, what's up?" asked Bert, in his kindest tones. 

Ernest then proceeded to tell him that his younger brother, Paul, was tocome to the school in a few days, and that he was a very timid, delicatelittle chap that would be sure to be half frightened out of his life ifthey hoisted him; and what Ernest wanted was that Bert and Frank shouldsee if they could not, in some way or other, save Paul from beinghoisted. 

The two boys were filled with the idea at once. It was good enough funto hoist sturdy fellows like themselves, who were none the worse for it;but if Paul were the sort of chap his brother said he was, it would be areal shame to give him such a scare, and they would do their best toprevent its being done. Accordingly, they promised Ernest they wouldprotect his brother if they could, and Ernest felt very much relieved attheir promise. 

But how were they going to carry it out? No exceptions had been made asto the hoisting since they had come to Dr. Johnston's, but all new boyswere hoisted with perfect impartiality. They would be powerless bythemselves, that was certain. Their only plan was to persuade a lot ofthe boys to join them, and they did not feel entirely sure about beingable to do this. However, the first thing to be done was to ask TeterJohnston. If they could enlist his sympathies, their task would be agood deal easier. Accordingly, at recess, they made directly for Teter, and laid the whole matter before him. Like themselves, he took hold ofit at once. It was just the sort of thing that would appeal to his big, warm, manly heart, and without hesitation he promised the boys he wouldgive them all the help in his power. 

The next step was to secure recruits for their party. In this Teterhelped them greatly, and Frank was very active too, because big RodGraham, whom he disliked none the less, though Bert had thrashed him sosoundly, always headed the hoisting party, and Frank looked forward withkeen delight to balking this tormenting bully by means of theanti-hoisting party they were now organising. 

Of course, the movement could not be kept a secret. It soon leaked out, and then Rod Graham and Dick Wilding--who, by the way, since the stolenmoney episode, had been as cool in his relations with Bert as he hadpreviously been cordial, evidently resenting very much Bert'swithdrawal from his companionship--these two, with their associates, began to organise in their turn, so that it was not long before theschool was divided into two parties, both of which were looking forwardeagerly to the event which should decide which would have their own way. 

On the Monday following the opening of the school Ernest Linton broughthis brother with him, a slight, pale, delicate little fellow, not morethan eight years old, who clung close to his brother's side, and lookedabout with a frightened air that was sufficient in itself to arouseone's sympathies. Bert and Frank had known him before, but Teter hadnever seen him, and his kind heart prompted him to go up and slap thelittle fellow kindly on the back, saying:

"So you're Linton's brother Paul, eh? Cheer up, little chap; we'll seethey're not too hard upon you. "

Paul's pale face brightened, and looking up with a grateful glance, hesaid, softly:

"Thank you, sir. "

Teter laughed at being "sirred, " and went off, feeling quite pleasedwith himself. 

According to the custom of the school, Paul would be hoisted at themid-day recess of the following day, and the boys looked forward eagerlyto the struggle for which they had been preparing. During the morningtheir thoughts clearly were not upon the lessons, and so many mistakeswere made that the shrewd doctor suspected there must be somethingbrewing, but preferred to let it reveal itself rather than to interfereby premature questions. He was a profound student of human nature, andespecially of boy nature. He knew his boys as thoroughly as an Easternshepherd ever knew his sheep. They were like open books before him, andin this perhaps more than in anything else lay the secret of his raresuccess as a teacher. 

When the eagerly expected recess came, all the boys, with the exceptionof a small group, poured out tumultuously into the street, and rangedthemselves in two bands in close proximity to the door. The group thatremained consisted of the two Lintons, Bert, Frank, and Teter, thelatter three constituting a sort of body-guard for poor timorous littlePaul, who shrank in terror from the ordeal, the nature of which in truthhe did not fully understand. Having consulted together for a minute ortwo, the body-guard then moved out through the door, taking care to keepPaul in the middle. As they emerged into the street, a kind of hum ofsuppressed excitement rose from the crowd awaiting them, followedimmediately by cries of "Hoist him! hoist him!" uttered first by Grahamand Wilding, and quickly taken up by their supporters. 

Pale with fright, Paul cowered close to Teter, while Bert and Frankstood in front of him, and their supporters quickly encircled them. Thencame the struggle. Graham and Wilding and their party bore down uponPaul's defenders, and sought to break their way through them to reachtheir intended victim. Of course, no blows were struck. The boys allknew better than to do that; but pushing, hauling, wrestling, very muchafter the fashion of football players in a maul, the one party strove toseize Paul, who indeed offered no more resistance than an ordinaryfootball, and the other to prevent his being carried off. For someminutes the issue was uncertain, although the hoisting partyconsiderably outnumbered the anti-hoisting party. More than once didGraham and Wilding force their way into the centre of Paul's defenders, and almost have him in their grasp, only to be thrust away again by thefaithful trio that stood about him like the three of whom Macaulay'sringing ballad tells:

 "How well Horatius kept the bridge, In the brave days of old. "

Shouting, struggling, swaying to and fro, the contest went on, much tothe amusement of a crowd of spectators, among which the tall, blue-coated form of a policeman loomed up prominently, although hedeigned not to interfere. At length the weight of superior numbers beganto tell, and despite all their efforts the anti-hoisting party wereborne slowly but surely toward the fence, upon which some of the boyshad already taken their positions, ready to have Paul handed up to them. The case was looking desperate, and Teter, heated and wearied with hisexertions, had just said, in his deepest tones, to Bert and Frank, "Come, boys, all together, try it once more, " when suddenly a silencefell upon the noisy mob, and their arms, a moment before locked in tensestruggling, fell limply to their sides; for there, standing between themand the fence, his keen, dark face lighted with a curious smile, andholding his hand above his head by way of a shield from the hot sun, stood Dr. Johnston!

A genuine ghost at midnight could hardly have startled the boys more. Absorbed in their struggle, they had not seen the doctor until they werefairly upon him. For aught they knew he had been a spectator of theproceedings from the outset. What would he think of them? Rod Graham andDick Wilding, slaves to a guilty conscience, slunk into the rear oftheir party, while Bert, and Frank, and Teter, glad of the unexpectedrelief, wiped their brows and arranged their disordered clothing, asthey awaited the doctor's utterance. It soon came. 

"I desire an explanation of this unseemly disturbance. The school willfollow me immediately into the schoolroom, " said he, somewhat sternly;and turning upon his heel went back to his desk, the boys following at arespectful distance. 

When all had been seated, and the room was quiet, Dr. Johnston asked:

"Will the leaders in the proceedings outside come to my desk?"

There was a moment's pause, and then Teter rose from his seat, Bertimmediately imitating him, and the two walked slowly down to the openspace before the master's desk. 

Having waited a minute, and no one else appearing, the doctor leanedforward and said to his nephew:

"You and Lloyd were on the same side, were you not?"

"Yes, sir, " replied Teter. 

"Well, who were the leaders of the other side? I wish to know. "

"Graham and Wilding, sir, " answered Teter. 

"Graham and Wilding, come forward, " called the doctor, sternly; and thetwo boys, looking very conscious and shamefaced, reluctantly left theirseats and took their places before the throne. 

"Now, then, I wish to be informed of the whole matter, " said the doctor. 

Bert looked at Teter, and Teter looked at Bert. 

"You tell him, " he whispered; "you know most about it. "

Thereupon, with the utmost frankness, Bert proceeded to tell his story, beginning at his first talk with Ernest Linton. 

The doctor listened intently, his inscrutable face revealing nothing asto how the story impressed him. When Bert had finished, he turned toGraham and Wilding, and asked them:

"Is Lloyd's statement correct? or have you anything to add?"

They hung their heads, and were silent. 

The doctor looked very hard at them for a moment, during which thesilence was so intense that the fall of a pin upon the floor would havebeen heard; then, turning to the school, he spoke as follows:

"The events that have just transpired have hastened a decision that hasbeen forming in my mind for some time past. I was not unaware of thispractice of which Lloyd has just spoken, but deemed it well not tointerfere until my interference should seem necessary. That time, in myjudgment, has arrived, and I have determined that there shall be no moreof this hoisting. Be it, therefore, distinctly understood by the pupilsof this school, that any future attempts at the hoisting of new boyswill incur punishment, and possibly even expulsion from the school. Youwill now resume work. "

A subdued murmur of applause arose from the anti-hoisting party at theconclusion of the doctor's announcement. They had more than carriedtheir point; for, intending only to protect Paul Linton, they hadobtained the complete abolition of the practice. Bert was greatlyelated, and could talk of nothing else when he got home. Father, andmother, and sister, had to listen to the fullest details of the struggleand its surprising issue, and Bert fairly outdid himself in the vigourand minuteness of his description. When the fountain of his eloquence atlast ran dry, Mr. Lloyd had a chance to say, with one of his expressivesmiles:

"And so my boy has come out as a reformer. Well, Bert, dear, you havetaken the first step in the most thankless and trying of all careers, and yet I would not discourage you for the world. I would a thousandtimes rather have you a reformer than an opposer of reforms. I wonderwhat work God has in store for you. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

PRIZE WINNING AND LOSING. 

There were many ways in which the methods employed at Dr. Johnston'sschool were unique. The system of registering attendance, proficiency, and conduct has been already fully explained. It was hardly possiblethat this could have been more perfect. No boy could be absent withoutbeing missed, and an explanation or excuse of a thoroughly satisfactorynature was required the next day. No mistake could occur as to thestanding of the pupils in the different classes. The record of each daywas all comprehensive. It constituted a photograph, so to speak, of eachpupil's doings, in so far as they related to his school, and the doctorwas exceedingly proud of the journals, which he kept with scrupulouscare and neatness. 

Another feature of the school, peculiar to itself, was the system bywhich a knowledge of arithmetic was fostered, and the faculty of usingit quickly was developed. The whole of one morning each week was devotedto this. The scholars were grouped in classes according to theirvarying proficiency, care being taken to give each one a fair chance byassociating him with those who were about as far advanced as himself. These classes were then arranged upon seats very much after the fashionof a Sunday school, save that instead of a teacher being in theircentre, they were placed around a backless chair, in such a manner thatit was equally convenient of access to all. Each boy had his slate andpencil in readiness. 

The school having been called to order, the doctor then proceeded toread out to the senior class a problem in proportion or compoundinterest, or whatever it might be, and this they hurriedly scribbleddown on their slates. If they did not understand it fully at first, hewould read it again, but of course never gave any explanations. So soonas a scholar had clearly grasped the problem to be solved he set to workat its solution with all his might, and it was a most interestingspectacle to watch when the whole class, with heads bent close to theslates, made their squeaking, scratching pencils fly over them. Everypossible shade of mental condition, from confident knowledge toforeboding bewilderment, would be expressed in their faces. The instantone of them had completed his work, he banged his slate down upon thebackless chair, with the writing turned under. The others followed asbest they could, and all the slates being down, they awaited thedoctor's coming around to their class again. 

When Dr. Johnston had completed the round of the classes, and given eacha problem, he would, after a pause, call upon each in turn to read theanswers as set down upon the slate. The boy whose slate was first on thechair, and therefore at the bottom of the pile, would read his answerfirst. If it were correct, he scored a point, and none of the otherswere called upon. If incorrect, the next to him would read his answer, and so on until a correct answer was given, and a point scored bysomebody. Only one point could be made each round, and so theunsuccessful ones had to console themselves with the hope of havingbetter luck next time. Not more than four or five rounds would be hadeach day, and it rarely happened that the same boy would be successfulin all of them. Three points were considered a very good day's work, andif a boy made four points he was apt to feel that the prize in thatclass was as good as his, until some other boy made four points also, and thereby lessened his chances. 

It did not always happen that being first down with his slate assuredthe scholar of scoring a point. A slight mistake in his addition, subtraction, or division might have thrown him off the track, and thennumber two, or maybe number three, would come in with a correct answerand triumphantly score the point, success being all the sweeter, becauseof being somewhat unexpected. 

Now this kind of competition suited Bert thoroughly. He was as quick asany of his companions, cooler than many of them, and had by this timeacquired a very good understanding of the chief principles ofarithmetic. He greatly enjoyed the working against time, which was thedistinctive feature of the contest. It brought out his mental powers totheir utmost, and he looked forward to "arithmetic day, " with aneagerness that was not caused entirely by what his father had promisedhim in the event of his being successful in carrying off a prize. 

In the same class with him were Frank Bowser, Ernest Linton, and ahalf-dozen other boys of similar age and standing in the school. He hadno fear of Frank or Ernest. They were no match for him either as toknowledge, or rapidity of work; but there was a boy in the class whoseemed fully his equal in both respects. This was Levi Cohen, adark-skinned, black-haired chap, whose Jewish features were in entireharmony with his Jewish name. He was indeed a Jew, and, young though hewas, had all the depth, self-control, and steadfastness of purpose ofthat strange race. He also had, as the sequel will show theirindifference as to the rightness of the means employed so long as theend in view was gained. 

The school had been in session for more than a month, and those who wereparticularly interested in the arithmetic competitions were alreadycalculating their chances of success. In Bert's class it was clearbeyond a doubt that the contest lay between him and Levi Cohen. Itrarely happened that they did not monopolise the points between them, and so far, they had divided them pretty evenly. One day Bert wouldscore three and Levi two, and then the next week Levi would have three, and Bert two, and so it went on from week to week. 

As the second month drew to a close, Bert began to gain upon his rival. He nearly always made the majority of the points, and was now at leastsix ahead. Then suddenly the tide turned and Levi seemed to have it allhis own way. The quickness with which he got the answers wasbewildering. Nay, more, it was even suspicious. One familiar with thedetails of the problems given, and the amount of work a full working outwould require, could not help being struck by the fact that Cohen seemedto arrive at his answer after a remarkably small expenditure ofslate-pencil. Time and again he would have his slate down at leasthalf-a-minute before Bert did his, although previous to this suddenchange in his fortunes, the difference in time between them had beenrarely more than a few seconds. Then again it was noticeable that hetook the utmost care that none of the others should see what was on hisslate. He did his work in a corner, hunched up over it so that it waswell concealed, and he snatched his slate away from the pile at the veryfirst opportunity. 

Bert noticed all these things, and they perplexed him quite as much asCohen's rapid gain alarmed him. He soon became convinced that there wassomething wrong, that Cohen was doing crooked work; but, puzzle hisbrains as he might, he could not get at the bottom of the mystery. Frankand Ernest fully shared his suspicions, and they had many a talk overthe matter. Frank thought that Cohen must have the answers written on apiece of paper which he managed to peep at somehow while all the otherboys were absorbed in working out the problems; but although he onseveral occasions purposely refrained from doing anything himself inorder to watch Cohen the more closely, he failed to find the slightestground for his suspicions in that direction. Then Bert put forward histheory. 

"I'll tell what it is Frank: Cohen must learn the answers off by heart, and then he sets them down without working out the whole sum. "

"Shouldn't wonder a bit, " said Frank. "He's got a great memory, I know, and we always can tell from what part of the arithmetic Dr. Johnston isgoing to get the sums. "

"But how can we make sure of it, Frank?" inquired Bert, anxiously. 

"The only way is to get hold of his slate, and see how he works his sumsout, " replied Frank. 

"Yes; but he takes precious good care not to let anybody see how he doesthem. "

"So he does; but we've got to find out some way, and I'm going to do it, so sure as my name's Frank Bowser. "

"How'll you manage it, Frank?" asked Bert, brightening up; for he reallywas a good deal troubled over Cohen's continued success, particularly ashe felt so strongly that there was something wrong at the bottom of it. 

"I don't know yet, Bert; but I'll find out a way somehow. See if youcan't think of a plan yourself. "

"I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll ask father about it, " said Bert, in atone that implied perfect confidence in Mr. Lloyd's ability to furnish asolution for any difficulty. 

Accordingly, that evening, Bert laid the whole case before his father, who listened with judicial gravity, and then proceeded to ask a questionor two:

"You feel quite sure that Cohen does not take the time to work out thesums properly?"

"Yes, father; perfectly sure. "

"Then why don't you inform Dr. Johnston of your suspicions, and he willmake an examination into the matter?"

"Oh, father!" exclaimed Bert, with a look of profound surprise. "Youwouldn't have me turn tattle-tale, would you?"

"No, Bert, dear; indeed, I would not, although you should lose a dozenprizes. I said that simply to see what you would think of it, and I amglad you answered me as I expected you would. But, Bert, you have askedmy advice in this matter. Did you think of asking somebody else who isinfinitely wiser than I am?"

Bert understood his father at once. 

"No, father; I did not. I never thought of it, " he answered, frankly. 

"Then had you not better do so when you are saying your prayersto-night?"

"I will, father. I'm so glad you reminded me. " And with that Bertdropped the subject for the time. 

That night, ere he went to bed, Bert laid the matter before his Fatherin heaven, just as he had done before his father upon earth. He hadimbibed his ideas of prayer from what he heard from his own father atfamily worship. Mr. Lloyd's conception of prayer was that it could notbe too simple, too straightforward. It often seemed as though God werepresent in the room, and he was talking with him, so natural, sosincere, so direct were his petitions. And Bert had learned to pray inthe same manner. A listener might at times be tempted to smile at thefrankness, the naïvete of Bert's requests; but they were uttered notmore in boyish earnest than in truest reverence by the petitioner. 

The next morning, when Bert came down to the breakfast-room, he wasevidently in the best of spirits. 

"It's all right, father, " said he. "I asked God to show me what's thebest thing to do, and I'm sure He will. "

"That's it, Bert; that's the way to look at it, " replied Mr. Lloyd, witha smile of warm approval. 

On reaching the school Bert found Frank awaiting him. 

"I've got it! I've got it!" he shouted, so soon as Bert appeared. "Iknow how Levi manages it now. "

"How is it?" asked Bert, eagerly. 

"Why, he learns all the answers off by heart, and then doesn't work outthe sums at all, but just pretends to, and slaps down the answer beforethe rest of us fellows are half through, " explained Frank. 

"To be sure, Frank; you know I thought of that before. But how are wegoing to stop him?"

"That's just what I'm coming to. When the time comes to read the answersI'm going to take up the slates, just as if mine was down first; andthen, if Levi's been playing sharp on us, I'll expose him. "

"What a brick you are!" exclaimed Bert, admiringly, patting Frank on theback. "That's a grand plan of yours, and I do believe it's the way Godis going to answer my prayer. "

"Answer your prayer, Bert? Why, what do you mean?" inquired Frank. 

"Why, you know, Frank, last night when I was saying my prayers, I toldGod all about it, and now I believe He's going to make it all right. Youjust see if He doesn't. "

Frank was evidently very much struck with the idea of his being chosenby God to answer Bert's prayer. It was quite a new thought, and made adeep impression upon him. He was a clear and strong, if not very rapid, reasoner, and his reasoning in this case led him to the conclusion thatif God thought that much of him he certainly ought to think more of God. He did not talk about it to anyone, but for many days his mind wasoccupied with thoughts of this nature, and their direct result was tolead him nearer to the kingdom. 

At the very first opportunity Frank put his plan into execution. Arithmetic day came round, the class gathered in its place, the firstsum was read out to them, and before Bert was half through working itout, Levi Cohen placed his slate softly upon the chair, and leaned backin his seat with a sly smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. Frankglanced up from his work, gave Bert a meaning look, and then dropped hisslate upon Cohen's with a loud bang. The others followed more slowly, and presently the time came for the answers to be read. 

Before Cohen could leave his corner, Frank rose up, seized the pile ofslates, turned them over, and examined the first intently, while Bertwatched him with breathless expectancy, and Cohen, at first toosurprised to act, sprang forward to wrest it from his hands. But Frankmoved out of his reach, and at the same time, with a triumphant smile, exhibited the face of the slate to the rest of the class, saying, in aloud whisper:

"Look, boys, that's the way he works them out. "

Dr. Johnston noticed the slight commotion this created, but he was toofar away to see clearly what it meant, so he called out:

"Why does not class six read their answers?"

Cohen stood up, and held up his hand. 

"Well, Cohen, what is it?" asked the doctor. 

"Please, sir, Bowser has taken my slate, and won't give it to me, "answered Cohen, in a whining voice. 

"Bowser, what's the meaning of this? What are you doing with Cohen'sslate?" demanded the doctor, frowning darkly. 

Frank did not look a bit frightened, but still holding on to the slate, which Cohen was making ineffectual efforts to regain, replied, inrespectful tones:

"May I hand you the slate first, sir?"

At these words Cohen turned ashy pale, and Dr. Johnston, realising thatthere must be something going on that required explanation, orderedFrank to bring all the slates up to him. 

With radiant face Frank proceeded to obey, giving Bert a triumphant lookas he passed by him, while Cohen shrank back into his corner, and bithis nails as though he would devour his finger tips. Taking up Cohen'sslate, the doctor scrutinised it carefully. One glance was sufficient. Adeep flush spread over his dark face, his eyes lighted up threateningly, and in his sternest tones he called out:

"Cohen, come here!"

Amid the expectant hush of the school, none but class six knowing whatwas the matter, Cohen, looking as though he would give his right hand tobe able to sink through the floor, walked slowly up into the dreadfulpresence of the angered master. Holding up the slate before him, Dr. Johnston asked:

"Is this your slate, sir?"

Cohen gave it a cowering glance, and said, faintly:

"Yes, sir. "

"How long has this been going on?" thundered the doctor. 

Cohen made no reply. 

"Answer me, sir, at once. How long has this been going on?" repeated thedoctor. 

"I don't quite know, sir; but not very long, " faltered out Cohen. 

With an exclamation of disgust, Dr. Johnston turned from him, and, holding the slate up high so that all the school might see it, relievedthe curiosity of the scholars, now at fever pitch, by addressing themthus:

"Cohen has just been detected in one of the most contemptible tricksthat has come under my observation since I have been master of thisschool. He has evidently been committing to memory the answers to theproblems that would be given out, and instead of doing the work properlyhas been scratching down a few figures, then writing the answers, and sofinishing long before any of the other scholars. I need hardly say thatthis is not only a most contemptible trick, as I have already said, buta serious blow at the principles of fair play and justice which shouldregulate the winning of prizes in this school. I therefore feel bound toexpress my indignation at Cohen's offence in the most decided manner. "

Turning to Cohen: "You, sir, shall stand upon the floor for punishment. All the points scored by you already this term will be taken from you, and you will not be permitted to compete for any prize until I shall sodetermine. "

A kind of subdued whistle rose from the boys when they heard thedoctor's severe, and yet not too severe, sentence. Cohen was nofavourite with them; and yet they could not help some pity for him, asthoroughly cowed and crushed he stood before them all, the very pictureof misery. Bert's tender heart was so touched by his abject appearance, that he half relented at his exposure. But Frank was troubled by no suchsecond thoughts. The unexpectedly complete success of his scheme filledhim with delight. It had accomplished two objects, both of which gavehim keen pleasure. Bert's most dangerous rival for the prize had beenput out of the way, and Cohen, whom he cordially disliked, had been wellpunished for his knavery. 

With Cohen disqualified, Bert had a comparatively easy time of it forthe rest of the term. He usually managed to secure four out of the fivepoints obtainable, and steadily added to his score until at last therewas no chance of anyone beating him, and he could look forward withcomfortable confidence to the prize that meant so much in his case. Afew days before Christmas the results were declared, and the prizesawarded, and although Bert gained only the one upon which his heart hadbeen set, while other boys carried off two, and even three, he enviednone of them. Their prizes meant nothing more perhaps than thebrightly-bound books which the doctor selected with special reference toboyish preferences. But _his_ prize meant more than a book. It meant apony. And so if he was the happiest boy in all the land of Acadia it wasnot without good reason. Frank was hardly less jubilant, for he hadgained his prize, and there was a hope taking strong hold upon hisheart, that if fortune was kind to him, there might be a pony for him aswell as for Bert. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A CHAPTER ON PONIES. 

It was a proud day for Bert when he came home from school, bearing ahandsome volume of Captain Gordon Cumming's Adventures in Africa, and hefelt as though he could scarcely wait for his father's return from theoffice, so eager was he to show him his prize. As it was, he watchedimpatiently for him, and so soon as he came in sight rushed toward him, holding the book above his head, and shouting:

"I've won it. I've won the prize. "

The Lloyds were all quite as proud as Bert himself over his success, andthey made a very merry quartette as they sat around the dinner-tablethat evening. 

"Dear me! I suppose I'll have to keep my promise now, though it takes mylast cent to pay for it, " said Mr. Lloyd, with a pretence of lookingrueful. 

"Indeed you will, father. I'm not going to let you off, of that you maybe sure, " exclaimed Bert, gleefully, knowing very well that his fatherwas only in fun, and that it would take the cost of a good many poniesto reach his last cent. 

"Well, then, sir, since you insist upon it, may I venture to inquirewhat sort of a pony you would like. "

"Oh, I don't know, father. "

"I suppose you're not very particular, Bert, so long as he'll let youstay on his back, " said Mr. Lloyd, smiling. 

"That's about it, father, " assented Bert. 

"Be sure and get a nice, quiet pony that won't run away with Bert, orgive him a nasty kick some time, " interposed Mrs. Lloyd, with an anxiouslook, as she contemplated the possibility of some accident happening toher darling. 

"Never fear, mother, I'll make sure of that, " answered Mr. Lloyd, with areassuring smile. "And for that very reason, " he continued, addressinghimself to Bert, "I may be some time in finding one just to suit. So youmust be patient, my little man, and be willing to wait, so that whenyour pony does come, he may be a good one. "

As it turned out, Bert had to wait several months, and the chill winterhad given way to the warm sunshine of spring, and the boy's patience hadalmost given way altogether, when at last his father, on coming home oneevening, announced, to his immense joy, that after much searching he hadsecured a pony that thoroughly suited him, and that this equine treasurewould be brought to the house the next morning early. 

If Bert was too much excited to sleep for more than half-an-hour at atime that night, who cannot sympathise with him? And if, when he didfall into a troubled doze, he had nightmare visions which soon woke himup again, who would dare laugh at him? In all his young life he hadnever been in such a fever of expectation, and long before dawn he waswide awake, with no hope of again closing his eyes, and tossed andtumbled about until it was light enough to get up and dress himself. 

As soon as he had dressed he went down to the barn to assure himself forthe twentieth time that the little stall was in perfect readiness; thatthere was no lack of oats in the bin or hay in the loft; that thebrand-new halter was hanging in its place, waiting to be clasped uponthe head of the coming pony, and thus he managed to while away the timeuntil the breakfast bell rang. 

The pony was to arrive shortly after breakfast, and, hungry as he was, Bert could scarcely be persuaded to taste his porridge, toast, orcoffee, and he made the others laugh by jumping up to run to the door atthe slightest suspicion of a sound in the street. At length, just whenhe had settled down again after one of these excursions, the door bellrang vigorously. Bert rushed through the hall, opened the door, andimmediately there was a glad shout of "Hurrah! Here he is! Isn't he abeauty?" which brought the whole family to the door, and there theybeheld the overjoyed boy with his arms clasped tightly round the neckof a brown pony that seemed to quite appreciate this littledemonstration, while the groom looked on with a superior smile at Bert'senthusiasm. 

The pony was indeed a beauty. He was of a rich brown colour, without awhite spot upon him, just high enough for Bert to see comfortably overhis back, and as round and plump as the best master could wish. His headwas small and perfectly shaped, his neck beautifully arched, and he hadlarge brown eyes that looked out upon the world with an intelligencealmost human. He had the highest testimonials as to soundness of windand limb, and sweetness of temper, and was altogether just the very kindof a pony to make a boy happy. 

And yet all of his good points have not been recounted. He had a list ofaccomplishments quite as long as his list of virtues, for at someprevious stage of his life he had, on account of his beauty and greatdocility, been put in training for the circus; and although for somereason or other he had never got so far as to make his appearance in thesaw-dust arena, he had been taught a great many tricks, and these he wasgenerally willing to perform, provided an apple or lump of sugar wereheld out as a reward. 

All this the groom explained while they were standing at the door, andthen the pony, having been sufficiently introduced, was led round to theyard, and duly installed in his corner of the stable, Bert clinging asclose to him as if he feared he had wings like the fabled Pegasus, and might fly away if not carefully watched. 

[Illustration: "The pony was a beauty, just high enough for Bert to seecomfortably over his back. "--_Page_ 256. ]

The days that followed were days of unalloyed happiness to Bert. He, ofcourse, had to learn to ride "Brownie, " as the pony was christened byMary, to whom was referred the question of a name. But it was an easymatter learning to ride so gentle and graceful a creature. First at awalk, then at a trot, then at a canter, and finally at full gallop, Bertere long made the circuit of the neighbouring squares; and as he becamemore thoroughly at home he extended his rides to the Point, where therewere long stretches of tree-shaded road that seemed just intended forbeing ridden over. 

The best of it was that, as Bert prophesied, the wish being in his casefather to the thought, Mr. Bowser did follow Mr. Lloyd's example. 

"I reckon I can stand a pony for my boy about as well as Lawyer Lloydcan for his, " said he to himself, pressing his hand upon a fat wallet inhis pocket, after Frank had been earnestly petitioning him, withouteliciting any favourable response. "There's no point in Frank's going onfoot while Bert's on horseback. I must see about it. "

He gave poor disappointed Frank, however, no hint of what he had inmind; and then one day he made him fairly wild with delight, by sendinghome a pretty bay pony with a star in his forehead, which, although hewas not quite as handsome or accomplished as "Brownie, " was anexcellent little animal, nevertheless. Oh, what proud, happy boys thetwo friends were, the first day they rode out together! It was a lovelyafternoon, not too warm to make it hard upon the ponies, and they roderight round the Point, and along the road skirting the arm of the sea, going much farther than Bert had ever been before; now pattering alongthe smooth dry road at a rattling pace, and now jogging on quietly withthe reins hanging loosely on the ponies' necks. If Bert's pony knew themore tricks, Frank's showed the greater speed, so they both hadsomething to be especially proud of, and were content accordingly. 

Brownie's performances were very amusing indeed, and after he and hisyoung master had become thoroughly acquainted, he would go through themwhenever called upon to do so. Often when the Lloyds had guests, theywould entertain them by having Bert put Brownie through his programme. Then the cute little fellow would be at his best, for he evidentlyenjoyed an appreciative audience quite as much as they did his feats. Hewould begin by making a very respectful bow to the spectators, liftinghis pretty head as high as he could, and bringing it down until his nosetouched his breast. He would then, as commanded, "say his prayers, "which he did by kneeling with his forefeet, and dropping his head uponhis knees; "knock at the door, " which meant going up to the nearestdoor, and knocking at it with his hoof until some one opened it; "walklike a gentleman"--that is, rear up on his hind legs, and walk up anddown the yard; "go to sleep, " by lying down and shutting his big browneyes tight; shake hands by gracefully extending his right hoof; allow acap to be placed on his head, and then sidle up and down the yard in themost roguish way; and other little tricks no less amusing, which neverfailed to elicit rounds of applause from the delighted spectators. 

There were many ways in which Brownie endeared himself to every memberof the Lloyd family. If Mrs. Lloyd or Mary happened to come into theyard when, as often happened, he was roaming about loose, he would go upto them and rub his nose gently against their shoulder, thus saying asplainly as could be, "Haven't you got a crust for me?" and the momentMr. Lloyd showed himself, Brownie's nose would be snuffing at his coatpockets for the bit of apple or lump of sugar that rarely failed to bethere. As for his bearing toward Bert, it showed such affection, obedience, and intelligence, that it is not to be wondered at, if theboy sometimes asked himself if the "Houyhnhnms" of Gulliver's Travelshad not their counterpart in nature, after all. 

Great, then, was the concern and sorrow when, after he had been just ayear with them, Brownie fell sick, and the veterinary surgeon said thathe must be sent away to the country to see if that would make him wellagain. Bert sobbed bitterly when the little invalid was led away. Hewould have dearly loved to accompany Brownie, but that could not bemanaged, so there was nothing for it but to wait patiently at home forthe news from the sick pony. 

Unhappily, the reports were not cheering. Each time they were lesshopeful, and at last one dull rainy day that Bert was long inforgetting, the farmer came himself to say that despite his utmost caredear little Brownie had died, and was now buried beneath a willow treein a corner of the pasture. Poor Bert! This was the first great grief ofhis life. Had Brownie been a human companion, he could hardly have felthis loss more keenly or sorrowed more sincerely. The little, emptystall, the brass-mounted bridle, and steel-stirruped saddle hanging upbeside it, brought out his tears afresh every time he looked upon them. Frank did his best to console him by offering him the use of his ponywhenever he liked; but, ah! though "Charlie" was a nice enough pony, hecould not fill the blank made by Brownie's loss. 

In the meantime Mr. Lloyd had been making diligent inquiry about asuccessor to Brownie, and had come to the conclusion to await the annualshipment from Sable Island, and see if a suitable pony could not bepicked out from the number. The announcement of this did much to arouseBert from his low spirits, and as Mr. Lloyd told him about those SableIsland ponies he grew more and more interested. They certainly have acurious history. To begin with, nobody knows just how they got on thatstrange, wild, desolate, sand bank that rises from the ocean about ahundred miles to the east of Nova Scotia. Had they the power of speech, and were they asked to give an account of themselves, they wouldprobably reply with Topsy that "they didn't know--they 'spects theygrow'd. " There they are, however, to the number of several hundred, andthere they have been ever since anybody knew anything about SableIsland. And such a place for ponies to be! It is nothing but a bank ofsand, not twenty-five miles long, by about one and a-half wide, coveredhere and there with patches of dense coarse grass, wild pea vine, andcranberry swamps. There are no trees, no brooks, no daisied meadows, andthrough all seasons of the year the ponies are out exposed to theweather, whether it be the furious snow storms of winter, the burningheat of summer, or the mad gales of the autumn. 

Once a year the Government officials who live upon the island, havingcharge of the lighthouses and relief stations, for it is a terribleplace for wrecks, have what the Western ranchmen would call a "round-up"of the ponies. They are all driven into a big "corral" at one end of theisland, and the best of the younger ones carefully culled out, the restbeing set free again. Those selected are then at the first opportunityput on board a ship and carried off to Halifax, where rough, shaggy, ungroomed, and untamed, they are sold at auction to the highestbidders. 

It was one of these ponies that Mr. Lloyd proposed to purchase for Bert. The latter was an expert rider now, and could be intrusted with a muchmore spirited animal than dear, little Brownie. The arrival of theannual shipment was accordingly looked forward to by both Bert and hisfather with a good deal of interest, Bert wondering if on the wholeshipload there would be anything to compare with Brownie, and Mr. Lloydhoping that he would be able to obtain a pony big enough to carry him ifhe felt in the humour for a ride on a bright summer morning. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

ABOUT TWO KINDS OF PONIES. 

In due time the Sable Island ponies arrived, and were announced to besold by auction, at the Government Wharf. Taking Bert with him, Mr. Lloyd went down in time to have a good look at the shipment before thesale commenced, so that he might have his mind made up before beginningto bid. They certainly were a queer lot of little creatures. Not acurry-comb had touched their hides since they were born, nor had theshears ever been near their manes or tails. Their coats were long, thick, and filled with dirt; their manes and tails of prodigious length, and matted together in inextricable knots. They were of all colours, andwithin certain limits of all sizes. Brown, bay, black, piebald, grey, and sorrel. There was no lack of variety; and Mr. Lloyd and Bertwandered up and down the long line as they stood tethered to the wall, scrutinising them closely, and sorely puzzled as to which to decideupon. 

It was, of course, quite impossible to tell anything as to disposition, for all the ponies seemed equally wild and terrified at their novelsituation; but, after going over them carefully, Mr. Lloyd decided upona very promising-looking black pony that stood near the middle of therow. He was of a good size, seemed to be in better condition than manyof those around him, had a well-shaped head, and altogether presentedabout as attractive an appearance as any in the lot. 

There were numerous bidders at the auction, and Bert grew deeplyinterested in the selling, as pony after pony was put up, and after amore or less spirited contest, according to his looks, was knocked downto the person that bid the highest for him. By the time the pony hisfather had selected was reached, he was fairly trembling withexcitement. He was full of apprehension lest somebody else should takehim away from them, and when the bidding began, he watched everymovement and word of the auctioneer with breathless anxiety, raisingquite a laugh at one time, by answering his oft-repeated question "Willanybody give me five? I have thirty--will anybody give me five?" with aneager "I will!" that was easily heard by everybody in the crowd. It wasan immense relief to him, when, at length, after what seemed to him mostunnecessary persistence in trying to get more, the auctioneer called out"Going, going, going, at thirty-five dollars. Will you give me any more?Going at thirty-five--going, going, _gone_; and sold to Mr. Lloyd. "

Thirty-five dollars does not seem very much to give for a pony; butconsidering that this pony had everything to learn, and nobody toguarantee his good behaviour, it was a fair enough price for him. Thegetting him home proved to be quite a serious undertaking. The strangesights and sounds of the city streets did not merely frighten him--theypositively crazed him for the time; and it took two strong men, one oneither side of his head, to guide him in safety to the stable. Oncesecurely fastened in the stall, he quieted down in time, but not onebite of food would he touch that day, nor the next, although Bert triedto tempt him with everything of which Brownie had been fond. Thistroubled Bert very much. He began to fear his new pony would starve todeath. But his father reassured him. 

"Don't be alarmed, my boy. The pony will find his appetite all right sosoon as he gets used to his new quarters, " said Mr. Lloyd. 

And sure enough on the third morning, Bert, to his great relief, foundthe oat box licked clean, and the pony looking round wistfully forsomething more to eat. After that, the difficulty lay rather insatisfying than in tempting his appetite. He proved an insatiable eater. But then nobody thought of stinting him, especially as his bones werenone too well covered. 

It was with great difficulty that he could be persuaded to allow himselfto be groomed. He would start at the touch of the curry-comb, as thoughit gave him an electric shock, and Michael, who combined in himself theoffices of groom and gardener, declared that "of all the pesky, fidgetycritters that ever stood on four legs, he never did see the like of this'ere Sable Islander. " Michael's opinion was not improved when he came tobreak the little Sable Islander in, for he led him such a dance dayafter day that his stout heart was well-nigh broken before the pony'swill showed any signs of being broken. However, patience and kindness, combined with firmness, eventually won the day; and Michael, withconsiderable pride announced that "Sable, " as it had been decided tocall him, was ready for use. 

Mr. Lloyd thought it best to ride Sable for a week or two before Bertshould mount him, and to this arrangement Bert was nothing loath, forthe pony's actions while in process of being broken in had rathersubdued his eagerness to trust himself upon him. As it chanced, Mr. Lloyd came very near paying a severe penalty for his thoughtfulness. Hehad been out several mornings on Sable, and had got along very well. Onemorning while he was in the act of mounting, the gate suddenly slammedbehind him with a loud bang. The pony at once started off at fullgallop. Mr. Lloyd succeeded in throwing himself into the saddle, butcould not get his feet into the stirrups, and when the frightenedcreature upon which he had so insecure a hold swerved sharply round atthe end of the street, he was hurled from his seat like a stone from acatapult, and fell headlong, striking his right temple upon the hardground. 

A few minutes later Mrs. Lloyd was startled by a hasty rap at the door, and on opening it beheld her husband supported between two men, his faceghastly pale, and stained with blood from a wound on his forehead. Shewas a brave woman, and although her heart almost stood still withagonised apprehension, she did not lose control of herself for aninstant. Directing Mr. Lloyd to be carried into the parlour and laidgently upon the sofa, Mrs. Lloyd bathed his head and face while Marychafed his hands; and presently, to their unspeakable joy, he recoveredconsciousness. Fortunately, his injuries proved to be comparativelyslight. Beyond a cut on his forehead, a bad headache, and a generalshaking up, he had suffered no material injury, and he would not listento Mrs. Lloyd's finding any fault with Sable for the accident. 

"Tut! tut! Kate, " said he; "the pony was not to blame at all. Any horsemight have been frightened by a gate banging to at his heels. The faultwas mine in not seeing that the gate was shut before I mounted. No; no, you must not blame poor, little Sable. "

Curiously enough, Bert had a somewhat similar experience shortly afterhe began to ride Sable. At a little distance from the house was a hillup which the street led, and then down the other side out into thecountry. The ascent was pretty steep, the descent not so much so, andBert liked to walk his pony up to the top, and then canter down theother side. One afternoon, just as he reached the summit, a littlestreet boy, probably by way of expressing the envy he felt for those whocould afford to ride, threw a stone at Sable, which struck him astinging blow on the hindquarters. Like an arrow from the bow, the ponywas off. Taking the bit in his teeth, and straightening his head out, hewent at full speed down the hill, Bert holding on for dear life with hisheart in his mouth, and his hat from his head. 

In some way or other, he himself never knew exactly how, he got both hisfeet out of the stirrups, and it was well for him he did, for just atthe bottom of the hill, when he was going like a greyhound, Sablestopped short, lowered his head, flung up his heels, and, without theslightest protest or delay, Bert went flying from the saddle, and landedin the middle of the dusty road in a sitting posture with his legsstretched out before him. The saucy pony paused just long enough to makesure that his rider was disposed of beyond a doubt, and then gallopedaway, apparently in high glee. 

Bert was not hurt in the least. He had never sat down quite sounexpectedly before, but the thick dust of the road made an excellentcushion, and he was soon upon his feet, and in full cry after therunaway. Thanks to a gentleman on horseback who had witnessed the wholescene, and went immediately in chase of Sable, the latter was soonrecaptured, and Bert, having thanked his friend in need, and brushedsome of the dust from his clothes, remounted his mischievous steed, androde him for the rest of the afternoon. 

After those two somewhat unpromising performances, Sable settled downinto very good habits, and during all the rest of the time that he wasin Bert's possession did not again disgrace himself by running away orpitching anyone off his back. He never became the pet that Brownie hadbeen, but he was, upon the whole, a more useful animal, so that Bertcame to feel himself well compensated for his loss. 

About this time Bert made the acquaintance of a pony of a very differentsort. How, indeed, it came to have this name does not seem to be veryclear, for what natural connection can be established between adiminutive horse, and a discreditable method of reducing thedifficulties of a lesson in Latin or Greek? It would appear to be a veryunjust slur upon a very worthy little animal, to say the least. 

Bert's first knowledge of the other kind of pony was when in the courseof his study of Latin he came to read Sallust. Cæsar he had foundcomparatively easy, and with no other aid than the grammar and lexiconhe could, in the course of an hour or so, get out a fair translation ofthe passage to be mastered. But Sallust gave him no end of trouble. There was something in the involved obscure style of this old historianthat puzzled him greatly, and he was constantly being humiliated byfinding that when, after much labour, he had succeeded in making somesort of sense out of a sentence, Dr. Johnston would pronounce histranslation altogether wrong, and proceed to read it in quite anotherway. 

As it happened, just when Bert was in the middle of those difficulties, Mr. Lloyd was called away from home on important business which entailedan absence for many weeks, and consequently Bert was deprived of hisassistance, which was always so willingly given. 

He had been struggling with Sallust for some time, and was making butvery unsatisfactory headway, when one day, chancing to express to RegieSelwyn his envy of the seeming ease with which the latter got along, Regie looked at him with a knowing smile, and asked:

"Don't you know how I get my translation so pat?"

"No, " replied Bert; "tell me, won't you?"

"Why, I use a pony, of course, " responded Regie. 

"A pony!" exclaimed Bert, in a tone of surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come now, " said Regie, with an incredulous smile. "Do you mean tosay that you don't know what a pony is?"

"I do, really, " returned Bert. "Please tell me, like a good fellow. "

"Come along home with me after school, and I'll show you, " said Regie. 

"All right, " assented Bert; "I will. "

Accordingly, that afternoon when school had been dismissed, Bertaccompanied Regie home, and there the latter took him to his room, andproduced a book which contained the whole of Sallust turned into clear, simple English. 

"There, " said he, placing the volume in Bert's hands; "that's what Imean by a pony. "

Bert opened the book, glanced at a page or two, took in the character ofits contents, and then, with a feeling as though he had touched aserpent, laid it down again, saying:

"But do you think it's right to use this book in getting up yourSallust, Regie?"

Regie laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Where's the harm, my boy. If you can't translate old Sallust byyourself, you can't, that's all, and you've got to wait for Dr. Johnstonto do it for you. Now, mightn't you just as well get it out of this bookat once, and save all the trouble, " he argued, glibly. 

This was very fallacious reasoning, but somehow or other it impressedBert as having a good deal of force in it. The simple truth was that hewas willing to be convinced. But he did not feel quite satisfied yet. 

"Then, of course, you never look at it until you have done your best toget the lesson out without it?" he asked. 

"That depends. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't, " answered Regie, in a tone that implied very plainly that the latter "sometimes" occurredmuch more frequently than the former. 

Bert took up the book again and fingered it thoughtfully. 

"Could I get one if I wanted to?" he asked, presently. 

"Why, of course, " answered Regie. "There are many more at Gossip's whereI got this, I guess. "

Bert said no more; and the two boys soon began talking about somethingelse. 

For some days thereafter Bert was in a very perplexed state of mind. Itseemed as though "the stars in their courses" were fighting not against, but in favour of his getting a "pony" for himself. His father's absencewas indefinitely prolonged, the Sallust grew more and more difficult, and demanded so much time, that Bert's chance of winning one of theprizes for general proficiency was seriously jeopardised. 

Instead of dismissing the subject from his mind altogether, he fell toreasoning about it, and then his danger really began, for the more hereasoned, the weaker his defences grew. There seemed so much to be saidin favour of the pony; and, after all, if he did not resort to it untilhe had done his best to work out the translation unaided, what would bethe harm?

Clearly Bert was in a perilous position. Right and wrong were stronglycontending for the victory, and much would depend upon the issue of theconflict. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

VICTORY WON FROM DEFEAT. 

Bert had reached an age and stage of development when the raising of adecided issue between right and wrong was a matter of vital consequence. Although he had little more than rounded out a dozen years of life, hisnatural bent of mind and the influences surrounding him had been such asto make him seem at least two years older when compared with hiscontemporaries. He thought much, and, considering his age, deeply. Hisparents had always admitted him into full fellowship with themselves, and he had thus acquired their way of thinking upon many subjects. Thenhis religious training had been more than ordinarily thorough. Theinfluences and inspiration of a Christian home had been supplemented andstrengthened by the teaching at Sunday school of one who possessed arare gift in the management of boys. Mr. Silver not only understood hisboys: he was in hearty and complete sympathy with them; and the truthcame from him with peculiar force, as he met them Sunday after Sunday. 

Bert therefore would appear to have everything in his favour when setupon by the tempter, and it might seem strange that in this case heshould dally so long with the danger. But the fact is there were unusualelements in this temptation, such as have been already set forth, andBert's course of action from the time when he first saw the translationof Sallust in Regie Selwyn's room, until when at length after days ofindecision, of halting between two opinions, of now listening to, andagain spurning the suggestions of the tempter, he had a copy of the samebook hidden away in his own room, was but another illustration of thefamiliar experience, that he who stops to argue with the tempter, has asgood as lost his case. 

He tried hard to persuade himself that it was all right, and that itwould be all right, but nevertheless it was with none too easy aconscience that he slipped into Gossip's one afternoon, and timidlyinquired for the Sallust translation. The clerk did not understand atfirst, and when he asked Bert to repeat his question a cold shiver wentdown the boy's back, for he felt sure the man must have divined hispurpose in procuring the book. But, of course, it was only anunnecessary alarm, and soon with the volume under his arm, and breathingmuch more freely, he was hastening homeward. 

At first he kept very faithfully to the programme he had laid down ofnot resorting to the "pony" until he had done his best without it. Thenlittle by little he fell into the way of referring to it whenever hewas at a loss regarding a word, until at last he came to depend upon italtogether, and the fluent translations that won Dr. Johnston'sapprobation day after day were really nothing better than stolen matter. 

Yet all this time he was far from having peace of mind. That troublesomeconscience of his acted as though it would never become reconciled tothis method of studying the classics. On the contrary, it seemed to growincreasingly sensitive upon the point. Finally the matter was brought toa head in a very unsuspected manner. 

No mention has been made in these pages of one who occupied a very largeplace in Bert's affection and admiration--namely, the Rev. Dr. Chrystal, the pastor of Calvary Church. Dr. Chrystal was a man of middle age andmedium height, with a countenance so winning and manners so attractive, that Mr. Lloyd was wont to call him St. John, the beloved disciple, because his name was John, and everybody who knew him loved him. It wasnot merely by the elders of his congregation, who could fully appreciatethe breadth and soundness of his scholarship, the richness of hisrhetoric, and the warmth of his eloquence, but by the younger membersalso, who loved his sunny smile, and hearty laugh, that Dr. Chrystal waslittle short of worshipped. 

Bert had been his warm admirer ever since the time when on his pastoralvisits he would take the little fellow up on his knee, and draw him outabout his own amusements and ambitions, giving such interested attentionto his childish prattle that Bert could not fail to feel he had in him areal friend. As he grew older, his liking for the minister deepened. Henever had that foolish fear of "the cloth" which is so apt to be foundin boys of his age. Dr. Chrystal was a frequent visitor at Bert's home. Mr. Lloyd was one of the main supporters of his church, and the two menhad much to consult about. Besides that, the preacher loved to discussthe subjects of the day with the keen-witted, far-seeing lawyer, whohelped him to many a telling point for the sermon in preparation. 

This, of course, was quite beyond Bert, but what he could and did fullyappreciate was the skill and strength with which Dr. Chrystal, havinglaid aside his clerical coat, would handle a pair of sculls when he wentout boating with them, in the fine summer evenings. 

"I tell you what it is, Frank, " said he, enthusiastically to his friendone day. "There's nothing soft about our minister. He can pull just aswell as any man in the harbour. That's the sort of minister I like. Don't you?"

One Sunday evening, after Bert had been using his "pony" some littletime--for although his father had returned, he had come so to dependupon it, that he continued to resort to it in secret--Dr. Chrystalpreached a sermon of more than usual power from the text, "Providethings honest in the sight of all men. " It was a frank, faithfuladdress, in which he sought to speak the truth in tenderness, and yetwith direct application to his hearers. If any among them weredisbelievers in the doctrine that honesty is the best policy, and actedaccordingly, they could hardly hope to dodge the arrows of argument andappeal shot forth from the pulpit that evening. 

Bert was one of the first to be transfixed. When the text was announcedhe wriggled a bit, as though it pricked him somewhere; but when, furtheron, Dr. Chrystal spoke in plain terms of the dishonesty of falsepretences, of claiming to be what you really are not, of seeking creditfor what is not actually your own work, Bert's head sank lower andlower, his cheeks burned with shame, and, feeling that the speaker mustin some mysterious way have divined his guilty secret, and be preachingdirectly at him, he sank back in his seat, and wished with wild longingthat he could run away from those flashing eyes that seemed to belooking right through him, and from the sound of that clear, strongvoice, whose every tone went straight to his heart. 

But, of course, there was no escape, and he had to listen to the sermonto the end, although, had it been possible, he would gladly have thrusthis fingers in his ears that he might hear no more. He felt immenselyrelieved when the service was over, and he could go out into the cool, dark evening air. He was very silent as he walked home with his parents, and so soon as prayers were over went off to his room, saying that hewas tired. 

For the next few days there was not a more miserable boy in Halifax thanCuthbert Lloyd. He was a prey to contending feelings that gave him notone moment's peace. His better nature said, "Be manly, and confess. " Thetempter whispered, "Be wise, and keep it to yourself. " As for the causeof all this trouble, it lay untouched in the bottom drawer of hisbureau. He could not bear to look at it, and he worked out his Sallustas best he could, causing Dr. Johnston much surprise by the unexpectedmistakes he made in translating. He became so quiet and sober that hismother grew quite concerned, and asked him more than once if he feltill, to which, with a pretence of a laugh, he replied:

"Not a bit of it. I'm all right. "

But he wasn't all right, by any means, as his father's keen eyes soondiscovered. Mr. Lloyd, like his wife, thought at first that Bert's queerways must be due to ill health; but after watching him awhile he came tothe conclusion that the boy's trouble was mental, rather than physical, and he determined to take the first opportunity of probing the matter. The opportunity soon came. Mrs. Lloyd and Mary were out for the evening, leaving Bert and his father at home. Bert was studying his lessons atthe table, while his father sat in the arm-chair near by, reading thepaper. Every now and then, as he bent over his books, Bert gave a deepsigh that seemed to well up from the very bottom of his heart. Mr. Lloydnoted this, and presently, laying his paper down, said, pleasantly:

"Bert, dear, put your lessons aside for a few minutes, and come overhere. I want to have a talk with you. "

Bert started and flushed slightly, but obeyed at once, drawing his chairclose up beside his father's. Laying his hand upon Bert's knee, andlooking him full in the face, Mr. Lloyd asked:

"Now, Bert, tell me what's the matter with you? There's something onyour mind, I know; and it has not been your way to keep any secrets fromme. Won't you tell me what is troubling you?"

Bert fidgeted in his chair, the flush deepened in his face, his eyesdropped before his father's searching gaze, and his hands workednervously. At last, with an apparent effort, he replied, in a low tone:

"There's nothing the matter with me, father. "

Mr. Lloyd sighed, and looked troubled. 

"Yes, there is, Bert. You know there is. Now, don't conceal it from me, but speak right out. Remember your motto, Bert: 'Quit you like men. '"

The working of Bert's countenance showed clearly the struggle that wasgoing on within, and there was silence for a moment, while Mr. Lloydawaited his answer, praying earnestly the while that his boy might behelped to do the right. Then, suddenly, Bert sprang up, darted towardthe door, and heeding not his father's surprised exclamation of--"Bert, Bert, aren't you going to answer me?" ran up the stairs to his own room. An instant more and he returned, bearing a volume which he placed in Mr. Lloyd's hands; and then, throwing himself on the sofa, he buried hishead in the cushions, and burst into a passion of tears. 

Bewildered by this unexpected action, Mr. Lloyd's first impulse was totake his boy in his arms and try to soothe him. Then he bethoughthimself of the book lying in his lap, and turned to it for anexplanation of the mystery. It was an innocent-enough looking volume, and seemed at first glance to make matters no clearer, but as he held itin his hands there came back to him the recollection of his ownschoolboy days, and like a flash the thing was plain to him. Bert hadbeen using a "pony, " and in some way had come to realise the extent ofhis wrong-doing. 

With feelings divided between sorrow that his boy should fall a victimto this temptation, and gladness that he should have the courage toconfess it, Mr. Lloyd went over to the sofa, lifted Bert up gently, andplaced him on the chair beside him. 

"Come, now, Bert, dear, " said he, in his tenderest tones, "don't beafraid, but just tell me all about it. "

In a voice much broken by sobs, Bert then told the whole story, beginning with the first conversation with Regie Selwyn, and leaving outnothing. His father listened intently, and it was clear the recitalmoved him deeply. When it ended, he silently lifted up his heart inpraise to God that his darling boy had been delivered from so great adanger, and he determined that Dr. Chrystal should not fail to hear howeffective his faithful preaching had been. 

"I need not tell you, Bert, how sad this makes my heart, but I will notadd my reproaches to the remorse you already feel, " said he, gravely. "You have done very, very wrong, dear, and it is now your duty to makethat wrong right again, so far as is in your power. What do you thinkyourself you ought to do?"

"I must ask God to forgive me, father, " answered Bert, almost in awhisper. 

"But is that all? Is there no one else of whom you should askforgiveness?"

"Yes, of you. "

"I have forgiven you already, Bert, for I know that you are sincerelysorry. But I think there is some one else still. Ought you not to askDr. Johnston's forgiveness?"

"Why, father, " exclaimed Bert, looking up with an expression ofsurprise, "Dr. Johnston does not know anything about it. "

"Ah, yes, Bert, true enough; but remember that ever since you've beenusing the translation you've been getting credit from him for work youhad not really done. Was that providing things honest in the sight ofall men, do you think?"

Bert flushed and looked down again. He was silent for a little while, and then said:

"But, father, I could never tell Dr. Johnston. He is so stern andsevere. "

"Do you think God will ever fully forgive you while you are concealingfrom Dr. Johnston what you ought in common honesty to tell him?"

This question evidently staggered him, and Mr. Lloyd, seeing what astruggle was going on within him, put his hand upon his shoulder, andsaid, with tender emphasis:

"Remember, Bert: 'Quit you like men, be strong. '"

For a moment longer Bert seemed irresolute. Then suddenly hiscountenance brightened, his features settled into an expression of firmdetermination, and rising to his feet, with hands clenched and eyesflashing, he stood before his father, and almost shouted:

"Yes, father, I will; I'll tell him. I don't care what he does to me. "

"God bless you, my brave boy!" exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, as, almostover-mastered by his emotions, he threw his arms around his neck, andhugged him to his heart, the big tears pouring down his happy face. 

Just at that moment the door opened, and Mrs. Lloyd and Mary entered. Great was their surprise at the scene they witnessed. But they soonunderstood it all, and when the whole story was known to them they wereno less thankful than Mr. Lloyd that Bert had come off conqueror in thissharp struggle with the enemy of souls. 

It was a hard task that lay before Bert, and he would have beensomething more than mortal if his resolution did not falter as hethought about it. But he strengthened himself by repeating the words"Quit you like men, be strong, " laying much emphasis on the latterclause. His father thought it best for him to go very early the nextmorning, taking the book with him, and to seek an interview with Dr. Johnston before he went into the school. 

Accordingly, in the morning, with throbbing heart and feverish pulse, Bert knocked at the doctor's private entrance. On asking for the masterhe was at once shown into the study, where the dread doctor was glancingover the morning paper before he took up the work of the day. 

"Well, Lloyd, what brings you here so early?" he asked, in somesurprise. 

With much difficulty, and in broken sentences, Bert explained the objectof his visit, the doctor listening with an impassive countenance thatgave no hint of how the story affected him. When he had ended, Dr. Johnston remained silent a moment as if lost in reflection, then placinghis hand upon the boy's shoulder, and looking at him with an expressionof deep tenderness such as Bert had never seen in his countenancebefore, he said, in tones whose kindness there could be no mistaking:

"You have done well, Lloyd, to tell me this. I honour you for yourconfession, and I feel confident that never so long as you are a pupilin this school will you fall into like wrong-doing. You may tell yourfather what I have said. Good-morning. " And he turned away, perhaps tohide something that made his eyes moist. 

Feeling much as Christian must have felt when the burden broke from hisback and rolled into the sepulchre gaping to receive it, Bert went tohis seat in the schoolroom. The ordeal was over, and his penancecomplete. 

His frank penitence was destined to exert a far wider influence than heever imagined, and that immediately. The volume he placed in Dr. Johnston's hands set the master thinking. "If, " he reasoned, "BertLloyd, one of the best boys in my school, has fallen into thiswrong-doing, it must be more common than I supposed. Perhaps were I totell the school what Lloyd has just told me, it might do good. Theexperiment is worth trying, at all events. "

Acting upon this thought, Dr. Johnston, shortly after the school hadsettled down for the day's work, rapped upon his desk as a signal thathe had something to say to the scholars, and then, when the attention ofall had been secured, he proceeded to tell, in clear, concise language, the incident of the morning. Many eyes were turned upon Bert while thedoctor was speaking, but he kept his fixed closely upon his desk, for heknew that his cheeks were burning, and he wondered what the other boyswere thinking of him. In concluding, Dr. Johnston made the followingappeal, which was indeed his chief purpose in mentioning the matter atall:

"Now, scholars, " said he, in tones of mingled kindliness and firmness, "I feel very sure that Lloyd is not the only boy in this school who hasbeen using a translation to assist him in his classical work, and myobject in telling you what he told me is that it may perhaps inspirethose who have been doing as he did to confess it in the manly, honestway that he has done, and for which we must all honour him. Boys, Iappeal to your honour, " he continued, raising his voice until it rangthrough the room, startling his hearers by its unaccustomed volume. "Whoamong you, like Bert Lloyd, will confess that you have been using atranslation?"

There was a thrilling silence, during which one might almost have heardthe boys' hearts beat as the doctor paused, and with his piercing eyesglanced up and down the long rows of awe-stricken boys. For a moment noone moved. Then there was a stir, a shuffling of feet, and Regie Selwyn, with cheeks aflame, rose slowly in his seat, and said in a low butdistinct voice:

"I have, sir. "

A gleam of joy flashed in the doctor's dark eyes as he looked toward thespeaker, but he said nothing. Then another and another rose and made alike confession, until some six in all had thus acknowledged theirfault. There was no mistaking the pleasure that shone in the master'sface at this answer to his appeal. When it became clear that, howevermany more might be no less guilty, no more were going to confess it, hespoke again:

"While it grieves me to know that the use of translations has been soextensive, I am also glad to find that so many of my boys possess thetrue spirit of manliness. I ask them to promise me that they will neverlook at those books again, and if there be others in the school whomight have admitted the same impropriety, but have not, I appeal to youto show by your contempt of such helps your determination that nothingbut what is honest, fair, and manly shall characterise the actions ofthe scholars of this school. "

And with this the doctor resumed his seat. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

ABOUT LITERATURE AND LAW. 

Five years had passed since Cuthbert Lloyd's name was first inscribed inthe big register on Dr. Johnston's desk, and he had been surely, steadily rising to the proud position of being the first boy in theschool, the "_dux_, " as the doctor with his love for the classicspreferred to call it. 

And yet there were some branches of study that he still seemed unable toget a good hold upon, or make satisfactory progress with. One of thesewas algebra. For some reason or other, the hidden principles of thispuzzling science eluded his grasp, as though a and x had been eels ofphenomenal activity. He tried again and again to pierce the obscuritythat enshrouded them, but at best with imperfect success; and it was astriking fact that he should, term after term, carry off the arithmeticprize by splendid scores, and yet be ingloriously beaten at algebra. 

Another subject that became a great bugbear to him was what was known ascomposition. On Fridays the senior boys were required to bring anoriginal composition, covering at least two pages of letter paper, uponany subject they saw fit. This requirement made that day "black Friday"for Bert and many others besides. The writing of a letter or compositionis probably the hardest task that can be set before a schoolboy. It wassafe to say that in many cases a whipping would be gratefully preferred. But for the disgrace of the thing, Bert would certainly rather at anytime have taken a mild whipping than sit down and write an essay. 

At the first, taking pity upon his evident helplessness, Mr. Lloyd gavehim a good deal of assistance, or allowed Mary--the ever-willing andever-helpful Mary--to do so. But after a while he thought Bert shouldrun alone, and prohibited further aid. Thus thrown upon his ownresources, the poor fellow struggled hard, to very little purpose. Evenwhen his father gave him a lift to the extent of suggesting a goodtheme, he found it almost impossible to write anything about it. 

One Friday he went without having prepared a composition. He hoped thatDr. Johnston would just keep him in after school for a while, or givehim an "imposition" of fifty lines of Virgil to copy as a penalty, andthat that would be an end of the matter. But, as it turned out, thedoctor thought otherwise. When Bert presented no composition he inquiredif he had any excuse, meaning a note from his father asking that he beexcused this time. Bert answered that he had not. 

"Then, " said Dr. Johnston, sternly, "you must remain in after schooluntil your composition is written. "

Bert was a good deal troubled by this unexpected penalty, but there wasof course no appeal from the master's decision. The school hours passed, three o'clock came, and all the scholars save those who were kept in forvarious shortcomings went joyfully off to their play, leaving the big, bare, dreary room to the doctor and his prisoners. Then one by one, asthey met the conditions of their sentence, or made up their deficienciesin work, they slipped quietly away, and ere the old yellow-faced clocksolemnly struck the hour of four, Bert was alone with the grim andsilent master. 

He had not been idle during that hour. He had made more than one attemptto prepare some sort of a composition, but both ideas and words utterlyfailed him. He could not even think of a subject, much less cover twopages of letter paper with comments upon it. By four o'clock despair hadsettled down upon him, and he sat at his desk doing nothing, and waitinghe hardly knew for what. 

Another hour passed, and still Bert had made no start, and still thedoctor sat at his desk absorbed in his book and apparently quiteoblivious of the boy before him. Six o'clock drew near, and with it theearly dusk of an autumn evening. Bert was growing faint with hunger, and, oh! so weary of his confinement. Not until it was too dark to readany longer did Dr. Johnston move; and then, without noticing Bert, hewent down the room, and disappeared through the door that led into hisown apartments. 

"My gracious!" exclaimed Bert, in alarm. "Surely he is not going toleave me here all alone in the dark. I'll jump out of the window if hedoes. "

But that was not the master's idea, for shortly he returned with twocandles, placed one on either side of Bert's desk, then went to hisdesk, drew forth the long, black strap, whose cruel sting Bert had notfelt for years, and standing in front of the quaking boy, looking thevery type of unrelenting sternness, said:

"You shall not leave your seat until your composition is finished, andif you have not made a beginning inside of five minutes you may expectpunishment. "

So saying, he strode off into the darkness, and up and down the longroom, now filled with strange shadows, swishing the strap against thedesks as he passed to and fro. Bert's feelings may be more easilyimagined than described. Hungry, weary, frightened, he grasped his penwith trembling fingers, and bent over the paper. 

For the first minute or two not a word was written. Then, as if struckby some happy thought, he scribbled down a title quickly and paused. Ina moment more he wrote again, and soon one whole paragraph was done. 

The five minutes having elapsed, the doctor emerged from the gloom andcame up to see what progress had been made. He looked over Bert'sshoulder at the crooked lines that straggled over half the page, but hecould not have read more than the title, when the shadows of the greatempty room were startled by a peal of laughter that went echoing throughthe darkness, and clapping the boy graciously upon his back, the mastersaid:

"That will do, Lloyd. The title is quite sufficient. You may go now;"for he had a keen sense of humour and a thorough relish of a joke, andthe subject selected by Bert was peculiarly appropriate, being"Necessity is the Mother of Invention. "

Mr. Lloyd was so delighted with Bert's ingenuity that thenceforth hegave him very effective assistance in the preparation of his weeklyessays, and they were no longer the bugbear that they had been. 

It was not long after this that Bert had an experience with the law notless memorable. 

In an adjoining street, there lived a family by the name of Dodson, thatpossessed a very large, old, and cross Newfoundland dog, which had, byits frequent exhibitions of ill-temper, become quite a nuisance to theneighbourhood. They had often been spoken to about their dog's readinessto snap at people, but had refused to chain him up, or send him away, because they had a lively aversion to small boys, and old Lion wascertainly successful in causing them to give the Dodson premises a wideberth. 

One afternoon Bert and Frank were going along the street playing catchwith a ball the former had just purchased, when, as they passed theDodson house, a wild throw from Frank sent the ball out of Bert's reach, and it rolled under the gate of the yard. Not thinking of the irascibleLion in his haste to recover the ball, Bert opened the gate, and themoment he did so, with a fierce growl the huge dog sprang at him andfastened his teeth in his left cheek. 

Bert shrieked with fright and pain, and in an instant Frank was besidehim, and had his strong hands tight round Lion's throat. Immediately theold dog let Bert go, and slunk off to his kennel, while Frank, seizinghis handkerchief, pressed it to the ugly wound in Bert's cheek. Greatthough the pain was, Bert quickly regained his self-possession, andhastening home had his wounds covered with plaster. Fortunately, theywere not in any wise serious. They bled a good deal, and they promisedto spoil his beauty for a time at least, but, as there was no reason tosuppose that the dog was mad, that was the worst of them. 

Mr. Lloyd was very much incensed when he saw Bert's injuries, and heardfrom him and Frank the particulars of the affair. He determined to makeone more appeal to the Dodsons to put the dog away, and if that wereunsuccessful, to call upon the authorities to compel them to do so. 

[Illustration: "With a fierce growl the huge dog sprang at him, andfastened his teeth in his left cheek. "--_Page_ 292. ]

Another person who was not less exercised about it was Michael, the manof all work. He was very fond and proud of the young master, as hecalled Bert, and that a dog should dare to put his teeth into him filledhim with righteous wrath. Furthermore, like many of his class, he firmlybelieved in the superstition that unless the dog was killed at once, Bert would certainly go mad. Mr. Lloyd laughed at him good-humouredlywhen he earnestly advocated the summary execution of Lion, and refusedto have anything to do with it. But the faithful affectionate fellow wasnot to be diverted from his purpose, and accordingly the next nightafter the attack, he stealthily approached the Dodson yard from therear, got close to old Lion's kennel, and then threw down before hisvery nose a juicy bit of beefsteak, in which a strong dose of poison hadbeen cunningly concealed. The unsuspecting dog took the tempting bait, and the next morning lay stiff and stark in death, before his kenneldoor. 

When the Dodsons found their favourite dead, they were highly enraged;and taking it for granted that either Mr. Lloyd or some one in hisinterest or his employ was guilty of Lion's untimely demise, Mr. Dodson, without waiting to institute inquiries, rushed off to the City PoliceCourt, and lodged a complaint against the one who he conceived was theguilty party. 

Mr. Lloyd was not a little surprised when, later in the morning, ablue-coated and silver-buttoned policeman presented himself at hisoffice, and, in the most respectful manner possible, served upon him asummons to appear before the magistrate to answer to a complaint made byone Thomas Dodson, who alleged that he "had with malice prepense andaforethought killed or caused to be killed a certain Newfoundland dog, the same being the property of the said Thomas Dodson, and therebycaused damage to the complainant, to the amount of one hundred dollars. "

So soon as Mr. Lloyd read the summons, which was the first intimation hehad had of Lion's taking off, he at once suspected who was the realcriminal. But of course he said nothing to the policeman beyond assuringhim that he would duly appear to answer to the summons. 

That evening he sent for Michael, and without any words of explanationplaced the summons in his hand. The countenance of the honest fellow ashe slowly read it through and took in its import was an amusing study. Bewilderment, surprise, indignation, and alarm were in turn expressed inhis frank face, and when he had finished he stood before Mr. Lloydspeechless, but looking as though he wanted to say: "What will you beafter doing to me now, that I've got you into such a scrape?"

Assuming a seriousness he did not really feel, Mr. Lloyd looked hard atMichael, as he asked:

"Do you know anything about this?"

Michael reddened, and dropped his eyes to the ground, but answered, unhesitatingly:

"I do, sir. It was meself that gave the old brute the dose of medicinethat fixed him. "

"But, Michael, " said Mr. Lloyd, with difficulty restraining a smile, "itwas not right of you to take the law into your own hands in that way. You knew well enough that I could not approve of it. "

"I did, indeed, sir, " answered Michael, "but, " lifting up his head ashis warm Irish heart stirred within him, "I couldn't sleep at night forthinking of what might happen to the young master if the dog weren'tkilled; and, so unbeknownst to anybody, I just slipped over the fence, and dropped him a bit of steak that I knew he would take to kindly. I'mvery sorry, sir, if I've got you into any trouble, but sure can't youjust tell them that it was Michael that did the mischief, and then theywon't bother you at all. "

"No, no, Michael. I'm not going to do that. You meant for the best whatyou did, and you did it for the sake of my boy, so I will assume theresponsibility; but I hope it will be a lesson to you not to take thelaw into your own hands again. You see it is apt to have awkwardconsequences. "

"That's true, sir, " assented Michael, looking much relieved at thisconclusion. "I'll promise to be careful next time, but--" pausing amoment as he turned to leave the room--"it's glad I am that that crossold brute can't have another chance at Master Bert, all the same. " Andhaving uttered this note of triumph, he made a low bow and disappeared. 

Mr. Lloyd had a good laugh after the door closed upon him. 

"He's a faithful creature, " he said, kindly; "but I'm afraid hisfidelity is going to cost me something this time. However, I won't makehim unhappy by letting him know that. "

The trial was fixed for the following Friday, and that day Bert wasexcused from school in order to be present as a witness. His scars werehealing rapidly, but still presented an ugly enough appearance to makeit clear that worthy Michael's indignation was not without cause. 

Now, this was the first time that Bert had ever been inside acourt-room; and, although his father was a lawyer, the fact that he madea rule never to carry his business home with him had caused Bert to growup in entire ignorance of the real nature of court proceedings. The onlytrials that had ever interested him being those in which the life orliberty of the person most deeply concerned was at stake, he hadnaturally formed the idea that all trials were of this nature, andconsequently regarded with very lively sympathy the defendants of acouple of cases that had the precedence of "Dodson _v. _ Lloyd. "

Feeling quite sure that the unhappy individuals who were called upon todefend themselves were in a very evil plight, he was surprised andshocked at the callous levity of the lawyers, and even of themagistrate, a small-sized man, to whom a full grey beard, a pair ofgold-bowed spectacles, and a deep voice imparted an air of dignity hewould not otherwise have possessed. That they should crack jokes witheach other over such serious matters was something he could notunderstand, as with eyes and ears that missed nothing he observed allthat went on around him. 

At length, after an hour or more of waiting, the case of "Dodson _v. _Lloyd" was called, and Bert, now to his deep concern, beheld his fatherin the same position as had been the persons whom he was just pitying;for the magistrate, looking, as Bert thought, very stern, called uponhim to answer to the complaint of Thomas Dodson, who alleged, &c. , &c. , &c. 

Mr. Lloyd pleaded his own cause, and it was not a very heavyundertaking, for the simple reason that he made no defence beyondstating that the dog had been poisoned by his servant without hisknowledge or approval, and asking that Bert's injuries might be takeninto account in mitigation of damages. The magistrate accordingly askedBert to go into the witness-box, and the clerk administered the oath, Bert kissing the greasy, old Bible that had in its time been touched bymany a perjured lip, with an unsophisticated fervour that brought out asmile upon the countenances of the spectators. 

He was then asked to give his version of the affair. Naturally enough, he hesitated a little at first, but encouraged by his father's smiles, he soon got over his nervousness, and told a very plain, straightforwardstory. Mr. Dodson's lawyer, a short, thick man with a nose like aparoquet's, bushy, black whiskers, and a very obtrusive pair ofspectacles, then proceeded, in a rough, hard voice, to try his best todraw Bert into admitting that he had been accustomed to tease the dog, and to throw stones at him. But although he asked a number of questionsbeginning with a "Now, sir, did you not?" or, "Now, sir, can you denythat?" &c. , uttered in very awe-inspiring tones, he did not succeed inshaking Bert's testimony in the slightest degree, or in entrapping himinto any disadvantageous admission. 

At first Bert was somewhat disconcerted by the blustering, brow-beatingmanner of the lawyer, but after a few questions his spirits rose to theoccasion, and he answered the questions in a prompt, frank, fearlessfashion, that more than once evoked a round of applause from thelookers-on. He had nothing but the truth to tell and his cross-examinerere long came to the conclusion that it was futile endeavouring to gethim to tell anything else; and so, with rather bad grace, he gave it up, and said he might go. 

Before leaving the witness-box Bert removed the bandages from hischeek, and exhibited the marks of the dog's teeth to the magistrate, thesight of which, together with the boy's testimony, made such animpression upon him that he gave as his decision that he would dismissthe case if Mr. Lloyd would pay the costs, which the latter very readilyagreed to do; and so the matter ended--not quite to the satisfaction ofMr. Dodson, but upon the whole in pretty close accordance with thestrict principles of right and justice. 

Michael was very greatly relieved when he heard the result, for he hadbeen worrying a good deal over what he feared Mr. Lloyd might suffer inconsequence of his excess of zeal. 

"So they got nothing for their old dog, after all, " he exclaimed, inhigh glee. "Well, they got as much as he was worth at all events, and"--sinking his voice to a whisper--"between you and me, Master Bert, if another dog iver puts his teeth into you, I'll be after givin' himthe same medicine, so sure as my name's Michael Flynn. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

WELL DONE, BOYS!

There comes a time in the life of nearly every boy who attends Sundayschool when, no matter how faithful to it he may have been, he findsgradually stealing in upon him the feeling that he is growing too oldfor it, and he becomes restive under its restraints. He sees other boysof the same age going off for a pleasant walk, or otherwise spending theafternoon as they please, and he envies them their freedom. He thinkshimself already sufficiently familiar with Bible truth for all practicalpurposes, and the lessons lose their interest for him. He has perhaps noambition for becoming a teacher, nor even of being promoted to a chairin the Bible class. 

How best to meet the case of this boy, and save him to the Sunday schoolis one of the most difficult questions that present themselves to thoseengaged in that work. You must not scold him or you will infalliblydrive him away at once and for ever. Neither is it wise to seek to bringinto play influences that will compel him to attend _nolens volens_, forthat will but deepen his dislike, and make him long the more eagerlyfor the time when he will be his own master in the matter. 

There seem to be but two possible solutions of the problem. You musteither appeal to the boy's natural sense of independence, and desire forimportance by making some special provision for him that will mark adistinction between him and the younger folk, or you must, by going fardeeper, reach the spiritual side of his nature, and through it securehis fidelity to the school. 

To Bert this temptation had not presented itself. He no more thought oftiring of the Sunday school than he did of his own home. He had attendedregularly ever since his sister Mary would take him with her, and puthim in the infant class, and it might be said to have become secondnature with him. 

With Frank, however, it was different. He had never gone to Sundayschool until Bert invited him, and although for some years he was veryfond of it, that fondness in time had fallen into an indifference, andof late he had a decided disinclination to go at all. This was not dueso much to any resistance to the claims of religion itself, but ratherto a foolish idea that he was now too old and too big for Sunday school. 

Bert took his friend's change of feeling very much to heart, and hepleaded with him so earnestly, that for some time Frank continued inhis place just to please him. But this of course could not last, and hewas in danger of drifting away altogether, when an event occurred whichturned the current of his life and set it flowing once more in the rightdirection, this time with a volume it had never known before. 

It was a pleasant custom at Calvary Church to give the Sunday school apicnic every summer, and these picnics were most enjoyable affairs. Abetter place than Halifax Harbour for the holding of a picnic couldhardly be conceived. You go, of course, by steamer, and then have thechoice of some half-dozen different routes, each having its ownattractions. You might go right up to the head of the big basin thatstretched away eight miles or more beyond the north end of the city, andthere land, amid the meadows that are bordered by the unbroken forest, or you might stop half-way, and invade the old estate that had once beenproud to claim a prince as its possessor. 

Steering in the opposite direction, you might go around the Point, andpiercing the recesses of the ever-beautiful arm of the sea, find aperfect picnic ground at its farthest bend; or, crossing the harbour, there were lovely spots to be secured on the big, tree-clad island thatwell-nigh filled the harbour mouth. 

This year it had been decided to hold the picnic at the head of the arm. The time was August, just when the cool sea-breeze and the balmy breathof the pines are most grateful to the dwellers in cities. To the numberof four hundred or more, a happy crowd of Sunday-school scholars andteachers, and their friends gathered upon the broad deck of the clumsyold _Mic-mac_, an excursion steamer that had done duty on this line fora generation, at least. Each class had its own banner, as a sort ofrallying point, and these, with the pretty dresses and bright ribbons ofthe girls, imparted plenty of colour to the scene, while the boys gavelife to it by being incessantly on the move, and never in one spot formore than one minute at a time. 

Bert and Frank were in the midst of the merry crowd, and in the highestspirits. They were neither of them by any means indifferent to thefascination of feminine beauty and grace, and it was easy to secure themost delightful companionship on board the boat, which they did not failto do. Then they had the games and sports to look forward to, after thepicnic ground should be reached, and altogether their cup of happinessseemed well-nigh brimming over. They little dreamed how ere the dayclosed they would both be brought face to face with the deadliest perilof their lives. 

Joyous with music and laughter, the big boat pushed her way onward overthe white-capped waves, past the fort and the gas works, and the longstretch of the Point road; and then giving the point itself a wideberth--for the shallows extend far out--around it, and up the windingarm, with its line of stately homes on one side, and scattered clustersof white-washed cottages on the other, until almost at its very end, thelanding-place was reached, and the gay passengers gladly deserted thesteamer to seek the cool shelter of the woods. 

There was a wonderful amount of happiness crowded into that day. All whowanted to be useful found plenty of scope for their talents in thetransporting of the provisions, the arranging of the tables, the hangingof the swings, and the other work that had to be done, while those whopreferred play to work, could go boating, or swimming, or play ball, andso forth. 

The two friends went in for both work and play. They gave very efficienthelp to the ladies in preparing for the dinner, but they did not miss agrand swim in the cool, clear water of a sequestered cove, nor anexciting game of baseball in the open field. 

After dinner came the sports, consisting of competitions in running, jumping, and ball throwing, for which prizes in the shape of knives, balls, and bats were offered. Bert and Frank took part in several ofthem with satisfactory results, Frank winning a fine knife in the longdistance race, and Bert a good ball for the best throw, so that therewas nothing to mar their pleasure in this regard. 

By sunset all were making for the boat again, and in the soft summergloaming the old _Mic-Mac_ steamed steadily down the arm on herhomeward trip. Many of the children were weary now, and inclined to becross and sleepy. Others were still full of life and spirits, and couldnot be restrained from chasing one another up and down the deck andamong the benches. But their merriment was ere long suddenly ended by anevent which came near casting a dark cloud over the whole day, that hadhitherto been no less bright with happiness than with sunshine. 

Bert and Frank had joined a group of charming girls gathered at thestern of the steamer, and while pleasantly employed in making themselvesagreeable were more than once disturbed by the noisy youngsters, whowould persist in playing "chase. "

"Some of you will be falling overboard if you don't take care, " saidBert, warningly, to them. "Why don't you keep in the middle of thesteamer?"

There was good ground for Bert's warning, as, across the stern of theold steamer, which had been a ferry boat in her early days, there wasonly a broad wooden bar placed so high that a child might almost walkunder it without stooping. 

But the careless children continued their play as the _Mic-Mac_ ploughedher way back to the city. Presently a troop of them came racing down tothe stern in chase of a golden-haired sprite, that laughingly ran beforethem. She was closely pursued by a boy about her own age, and in hereagerness to escape him she dodged underneath the bar that marked theline of safety. As she did so, the steamer gave a sudden lurch; and, poised perilously near the edge as the girl already was, it proved toomuch for her balance. She uttered a terrified shriek, grasped vainly atthe bar now quite out of her reach, and, to the horror of those lookinghelplessly on, toppled over into the frothing, foaming water of thesteamer's wake. 

Instantly there was wild confusion on board the steamer. Scream afterscream went up from the women, and all who could crowded madly towardthe stern. If the girl was to be saved, immediate action was necessary. Bert did not stop to think. He could swim strongly and well. He wouldattempt her rescue. 

"Frank, I'm after her, " he cried, as he flung off his coat and hat. 

"I'm with you, " answered Frank, imitating his action; and before anyoneelse had thought of moving, the two boys, almost side by side, spranginto the heaving water with faces set toward the spot where a cloud ofwhite showed them the little girl still floated. Putting forth all theirspeed, they reached her ere the buoyancy had left her clothing, and eachseizing an arm of the poor child, who had just fainted through excess offright, they prepared to battle for her life and their own. 

They realised at once that it was to be no easy struggle. The steamerhad been going at full speed, and although the engines were reversed atthe first alarm, the impetus of her awkward bulk had carried her faraway from the spot where the girl fell; and now the boys could justbarely discern her through the deepening dusk. The harbour had beenrough all day, and the waters still rolled uneasily. Fortunately, it wasnot very cold, or the swimmers' case had been well-nigh hopeless. As itwas, the only chance of their deliverance hung upon their endurance. Iftheir strength held out, they and the little one they had put themselvesin peril to rescue would be saved. 

She continued to be unconscious, her pretty face, that was so bright androsy a few minutes before, now looking strangely white and rigid, andher golden curls clinging darkly about her neck, her broad straw hat, all water-soaked and limp, hanging over on one side. 

"Surely she can't be dead already?" exclaimed Bert, anxiously, to Frank, as the two boys kept her and themselves afloat by treading water, one ateither arm. 

"No, " replied Frank, "only fainted. But if the steamer doesn't comesoon, she will be; and so will we too. "

"Never fear, Frank, the steamer will be back for us soon. I think I canhear her paddles now, " said Bert, in cheering tones; and they listenedintently for a moment, but heard nothing save the soft lapping of thewaves all around them. Then Frank spoke:

"Bert, " he asked, "are you afraid to die?"

Bert started at the question. He had not thought of dying, and life wasso precious to him. 

"We're not going to die, Frank. God will take care of us, " he answered, quickly. 

"Yes, but if the steamer shouldn't get back to us in time, Bert, "persisted Frank, who seemed to be already losing hope, "aren't youafraid to die?"

"I don't want to, but I'm not afraid to, " Bert replied, after a pause;for it was not easy to talk when every exertion had to be put forth tokeep above the water. 

"But, Bert, I am afraid, " said Frank, with a groan. "I've been sowicked. "

"No, you haven't, Frank; and even if you have, God will forgive you now. Ask Him right away. "

"Oh, I can't--it's too late; I cannot pray now, " cried poor Frank, in avoice that sounded like a wail of despair. 

"It's not too late. Come, Frank, dear, we'll both pray to God to havemercy upon us, " urged Bert; and inspired by his earnestness, Frankobeyed. And there, in the midst of the waves, with their senselessburden between them, the two boys lifted up their souls in supplicationto their Omnipotent Father--Bert with the confidence that came of pastexperience, Frank with the agonised entreaty of one praying in soreneed, and, for the first time, with the whole heart. A strange place fora prayer meeting, indeed; but they were as near the great heart of Godas though they had been in His grandest cathedral, and the answer totheir earnest pleading was already on its way. 

When the two young heroes leaped into the water, there had at first beengreat confusion on board the _Mic-Mac_, but a minute or two later thecaptain's gruff voice was heard roaring out orders. The paddles that hadbeen thrashing the waves so vigorously suddenly stopped, were silent fora moment, and then recommenced; but now they were bearing the steamerbackward instead of forward. 

"Get ready the boat for launching, " thundered the captain. Andhalf-a-dozen men sprang to obey. 

"Light a couple of lanterns, " he shouted again. And in an instant it wasdone. 

"Reeve a long line round one of them life preservers, and stand readyfor a throw, " he cried to the mate. And almost before he had finishedspeaking the mate stood ready. 

"Now, then, clear away there all of you, " he growled at the excitedcrowd that pressed toward the stern, and they fell back, allowing himclear space, while he swung the lantern out before him, and peered intothe dusk that obscured his view. 

"Let her go easy now, " he shouted, and the steamer moved slowly on, aprofound silence falling upon the crowd of passengers as they watchedwith throbbing eagerness for the first sign of the imperiled ones beingsighted. 

Gazing hard into the gloom, the keen-eyed captain caught sight of agleam of white upon the water. 

"Stop her!" he roared, with a voice like that of the north wind. "Handme that life preserver!"--turning to the mate who stood near him. Themate obeyed, and coiling the long rope ready for a throw the captainwaited, while the steamer drew nearer to the speck of white. 

"Look out there!" he cried to the boys in the water. "Lay hold of this. "And swinging the big life preserver around his head as though it hadbeen a mere toy, he hurled it far out before him, where the beams oflight from the lantern showed not one but three white objects scarceabove the surface of the water. 

"Look sharp now! lay hold there!" he cried again, and then: "All right. Keep your grip, and we'll have you in a minute. " Then turning to thosebehind him: "Lower that boat--quick!"

The davits creaked and groaned as the ropes spun through the blocks;there was a big splash when the boat struck the water, a few fiercestrokes of the oars, and then a glad shout of, "All right; we've gotthem, " in response to which cheer upon cheer rang out from the throngabove, now relieved from their intense anxiety. 

A few minutes later, three dripping forms were carefully handed up theside, and taken into the warm engine room, the little girl stillunconscious, and the boys so exhausted as to be not far from the samecondition. 

Their rescue had been effected just in time. A little more, and utterlyunable to keep themselves afloat any longer, they would have sunkbeneath the pitiless waves. 

"It seemed awful to have to die that way, " said Bert, when telling hisparents about it. "I was getting weaker and weaker all the time, and so, too, was Frank, and I thought we'd have to let the poor little girl go, and strike out for ourselves. But we kept praying hard to God to helpus; and then all of a sudden I saw a light, and I said to Frank, 'There's the steamer--hold on a little longer;' and then I could hearthe sound of the paddles, and the next thing the captain shouted to usand flung us a life preserver, and we got a good grip of that, and heldon until the boat took us all in. "

The heroic action of the two boys made them famous in Halifax. Thenewspapers printed columns in their praise, a handsome subscription wastaken up in a day to present them each with a splendid gold medalcommemorating the event; important personages, who had never noticedthem before, stopped them on the street to shake hands with them, andwhat really pleased them most of all, Dr. Johnston gave the school aholiday in their honour, having just delivered an address, in which, with flashing eyes and quivering lips, he told the other scholars howproud he felt of Frank and Bert, and how he hoped their schoolmateswould show the same noble courage if they ever had a like opportunity. 

The parents of the little one they rescued were plain people of limitedmeans, but they could not deny themselves the luxury of manifestingtheir gratitude in some tangible form. Accordingly, they had twopictures of their daughter prepared, and placed in pretty frames, bearing the expressive inscription, "Rescued, " with the date beneath;and the mother herself took them to the boys, the tears that bathed hercheeks as she presented them telling far better than any words could do, how fervent was her gratitude. 

Deeply as Frank had been moved at being brought through his own generousimpulse into such close quarters with death, the excitement and bustleof the days immediately following the event so filled his mind that theimpression bade fair to pass away again, leaving him no better than hehad been before. But it was not God's purpose that this should be theresult. Before the good effects of that brief prayer meeting in thewater were entirely dissipated, another influence came to their support. Although he knew it not, he was approaching the great crisis of hislife, and by a way most unexpected; he was shortly to be led into thathigher plane of existence, toward which he had been slowly tendingthrough the years of his friendship with Bert. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 

A day or two after the rescue Bert began to show signs of what he tookto be simply a slight cold in the chest. At first there was only alittle pain, and a rather troublesome feeling of oppression, which didnot give him much concern, and having applied to his mother, and had herprescribe for him, he assumed that it was the natural consequence of hissudden plunge into the cold water, and would soon pass away. But insteadof doing so the pain and oppression increased, and the family doctor hadto be called in for his opinion. Having examined the young patientcarefully, Dr. Brown decided that he was threatened with an attack ofinflammation of the lungs, and that the best thing for him to do was togo right to bed, and stay there until the danger was over. 

Here was a new experience for Bert. He had never spent a day in bedbefore, his only previous sickness having been a siege of the mumps, andthey merely made him a prisoner in the house until his face regainedits usual size. But now he was to really go upon the sick list, andsubmit to be treated accordingly until the doctor should pronounce himwell again. He did not like the idea at all. To what boy, indeed, wouldit have been welcome in that glorious summer weather when there wasbliss in merely being alive and well. But he had too much sense torebel. He knew that Dr. Brown was no alarmist, and that the best thingto do was to obey his injunctions unquestioningly. Moreover, he nowbegan to feel some slight anxiety himself. The trouble in his chestincreased. So much so, indeed, that he found difficulty in speaking forany length of time. Symptoms of fever, too, appeared; and by the closeof another day no doubt remained that the attack was of a seriousnature, and that the utmost care would be necessary in order to insurehis recovery. 

When Mr. And Mrs. Lloyd learned this, they were sorely distressed. Suchperfect health had their sturdy boy enjoyed all through his lifehitherto, that they could hardly realise his being laid upon a bed ofsickness, and it seemed especially trying just after he had passedsafely through so great a peril. But they did not murmur. They committedBert to the Divine care, and with countenances full of cheer for hissake, and hearts strengthened from above, awaited the revealing of theLord's will. 

Day by day Bert grew worse, until each breath became an effort; and thefever burned all through his veins, as though it would consume him. Fortunately, no cloud came over his consciousness; and although he couldnot speak without a painful effort, and therefore said little, hisgrateful looks showed how fully he appreciated the unremitting care withwhich his father and mother and Mary watched over him. His bedside wasnever without one of them; and there was yet another who vied with themin their devotion--and that was Frank. Had Bert been his twin brother hecould not have felt more concern. He was moved to the very depths of hisheart, and with tears in his eyes begged of Mr. Lloyd permission to taketurns with them in watching by the bedside through the long hours of thenight. He was so affectionate, so thoughtful, so gentle, so trustworthy, and Bert seemed so glad to have him, that Mr. Lloyd willingly consented;and thus the four whom Bert loved best shared the burden of care andanxiety between them. 

Bert had never made much parade of his religion. It was the controllingforce in his life, yet it had not been in any way obtrusive. It hadgrown with his growth, and strengthened with his expanding strength; andalthough there had of course been many slips and falls--for what was hebut an impulsive boy?--there had been no decline, but steadfast progressas the years of his boyhood glided past. It stood him in good stead whendeath waited for him in the depths of Halifax harbour, and it was withhim now, as hour by hour he drew nearer the dark valley of the shadow. 

It seemed strange for the Lloyd's home, which Bert and Mary hadbrightened with laughter and song, to be so silent now, and for big Dr. Brown, whose visits previously had been mainly of a social nature, to becalling every day, with a serious countenance that betokened hisconcern. Never were mother and sister more devoted and untiring thanBert's. Their loving care anticipated his simplest wants; and but forthe dreadful feeling in his chest, and the fever that gave him norelief, the novelty of being thus assiduously tended was so great, thathe would hardly have minded being their patient for a little while, atleast. 

It was an unspeakable comfort to them all that his reason continuedperfectly clear, no matter how high the fever raged; and not only hisreason, but his faith was clear also. He did not despair of hisrecovery, yet he shrank not from looking the darker alternative fairlyin the face, and preparing to meet it. His father's strong, serene faithwas a wonderful help to him. In the quiet evening, as the dusk drew on, Mr. Lloyd would sit beside him, and, taking his hot hand in his, talkwith him tenderly, repeating Scripture passages of hope and comfort, orverses from the sacred songs they both loved. 

One afternoon, Frank was alone with him, Mrs. Lloyd and Mary having goneoff to take much needed rest, and Bert for the first time spoke to hisfriend of the possibility of his never getting well again. 

"I am very ill, Frank, dear, " said he, reaching over to lay his burninghand upon Frank's knee, as the latter sat close beside his bed. "I maynever be any better. "

"Oh, yes, you will!" returned Frank, cheerfully. "You'll come round allright. "

"I hope so, Frank, but sometimes as I lie here in the middle of thenight, it seems as though it would soon be all over with me. "

"Never fear, Bert, you'll live to be an old man yet, see if you don't. "

Bert was silent for a while as if thinking just how he would saysomething that was on his mind. Then turning to Frank, and, lookingearnestly into his face, he asked:

"Frank, do you love Jesus?"

Frank started at the question, the blood mounted to his forehead, andhis head dropped. He seemed reluctant to reply, and it was some timebefore he answered, almost in a whisper:

"I'm afraid I don't, Bert. "

A look of sorrow came over Bert's countenance, but was quicklydissipated by one of hope, and despite the pain the utterance of everyword gave him he took Frank's hand between both of his, and pressing itaffectionately, said:

"Dear, dear Frank, you will love Him, won't you?"

Frank's sturdy frame trembled with the emotion he strove hard tosuppress; his lips quivered so that he could not have spoken if hewould, and at length, unable to control himself any longer, he fell onhis knees at the bedside, and burying his face in his hands burst intotears. 

The ineffable glory of the sun setting into the golden haze of the westfilled the room, and enfolded the figures of the two boys, the onekneeling at the bedside, and the other with eyes lifted heavenward, andlips moving in earnest prayer, touching softly the brown curls halfburied in the bed beside him. For some minutes there was a solemnsilence. Then Bert spoke:

"Frank, Frank, " he called, gently. 

Frank lifted his tear-stained face. 

"Won't you begin to love Him now?" Bert asked. "If God should take meaway, I could not be happy unless I felt sure that you would meet meabove. We've been such friends, Frank, and you've been so good to mealways. "

[Illustration: "'Frank, Frank, ' he called gently. Frank lifted histear-stained face. "--_Page_ 320. ]

Frank's tears flowed afresh. It was not the first time that the questionof surrender to Christ had presented itself to him. He had debated itwith himself over and over again, and always with the same result, concluding to remain undecided a little longer. But now the time forindecision seemed altogether passed. The Christ Himself seemed presentin that room awaiting an answer to the question he had inspired Bertto put. Never in all his life before had the issue between God andhimself appeared so inevitable. He had evaded it more than once, but adecision could no longer be delayed. No sooner did he see this clearlythan the powers of the strong, deep nature asserted itself. Brushingaside his tears, and looking right into Bert's expectant eyes, he seizedboth his hands, and, with a countenance almost glorified by theexpression of lofty purpose the rays of the setting sun revealed uponit, said, in clear, firm tones:

"Yes, Bert, I will love Jesus, and I will begin right away. "

"Oh, Frank, I'm so happy!" murmured Bert, as he fell back on his pillow, for the stress of emotion had told hard upon him in his weak state, andhe felt exhausted. He lay there quietly with his eyes closed for awhile, and then sank into a gentle slumber, and before he awoke againMrs. Lloyd had come into the room so that their conversation could notbe resumed before Frank went away. 

The next day Bert was decidedly worse. The suffering in his chestincreased until he could hardly speak. With great difficulty he couldget out a word at a time, and that was all. The fever showed no signs ofabating, and he tossed upon his bed hour after hour, while with ice andfan and cooling applications Mrs. Lloyd and Mary strove hard to give himease. 

Dr. Brown made no attempt to conceal his anxiety. 

"The crisis is near at hand, " he said. "There is nothing more that I cando for him. He has reached a point where your prayers can do more forhim than my poor medicines. "

Although her heart was torn with anguish unspeakable, Mrs. Lloyd'sfortitude never for a moment faltered. So serene was her bearing in thesick chamber that Mary, from whom the gravity of her brother's case hadbeen so far as possible concealed, had yet no thought but that he wouldinfallibly win his way back to health. 

As he grew weaker and his sufferings more intense, Bert evidently felteasiest when all three of his own household were with him at once, andwhen Frank was there also, his satisfaction seemed complete. He spokebut little, and then only a word or two at a time. Dr. Chrystal came tosee him frequently, and was always greeted with a glad smile of welcome. Taking the Bible, he would, in his rich mellow voice, read somecomforting passage, and then pray with deep trustful earnestness, inspiring and strengthening the anxious watchers, and leaving behind himan atmosphere of peace. 

On Friday night the crisis came. After tossing and tumbling aboutfeverishly all day, as the evening shadows fell, Bert sank into a deepstupor, and Dr. Brown, with a lump in his throat that almost choked hisutterance, said plainly that unless he rallied before morning therewould be no further hope. In an agony of prayer Mrs. Lloyd knelt by herdarling's bedside, while in an adjoining room Mr. Lloyd, and Mary, andDr. Chrystal, and Frank sat together, praying and waiting, and strivingto comfort one another. The long hours of agonising uncertainty draggedslowly by. Every few minutes some one would steal on tiptoe to the sickchamber, and on their return met fond faces full of eager questioningawaiting them, only to answer with a sad shake of the head that meant noray of hope yet. 

At length the dawn began to flush the east, and with crimson radiancelight up the great unmeasured dome, putting out the stars that had shoneas watch fires throughout the night. Mrs. Lloyd had risen from herknees, and was sitting close beside the bed, watching every breath thatBert drew; for who could say which one would be the last? The daylightstole swiftly into the room, making the night-light no longer necessary, and she moved softly to put it out. As she returned to her post, andstood for a moment gazing with an unutterable tenderness at the belovedface lying so still upon the pillow, a thrill of joy shot through her, for a change seemed to have taken place; the flushed features hadassumed a more natural hue, and the breath came more easily. Scarcelydaring to hope, she stood as if entranced. Presently a tremor ranthrough Bert's frame, he stirred uneasily, sighed heavily, and then, asnaturally as a babe awaking, opened wide his big, brown eyes. 

Seeing his mother just before him, he gave a glad smile, lifted up hishands as though to embrace her, and said, without any apparentdifficulty:

"You dear, darling mother. "

Completely overcome with joy, Mrs. Lloyd threw herself down beside herboy and kissed him passionately, exclaiming: "Thank God! Thank God! He'ssaved;" and then, springing up, hastened out to tell the others the goodnews. 

Dr. Brown, who had been resting in the study, was instantly summoned, and the moment he saw Bert his face became radiant. Turning to Mrs. Lloyd, he shook her hand warmly, saying:

"The worst is over. He'll come round all right now, and you may thankyour prayers, madam, and not my medicines. "

Great was the rejoicing in the Lloyd household. No words would expresstheir gladness; and when school-time came Frank, utterly unable tocontain himself, rushed off to Dr. Johnston's, and astonished theassembled pupils by shouting at the top of his voice:

"Hurrah, boys! Bert's not going to die. He'll soon be well again. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

HOME MISSIONARY WORK. 

Bert's recovery was as rapid as his illness had been sudden and severe. A fortnight after that memorable morning, when with the dawn camedeliverance, he was as vigorous and lively as ever. He found the days ofhis convalescence not at all unpleasant. When the pain had passed, thelong hours of suffering seemed like a dreadful dream, and the present, with its sweet relief and increasing strength, a blissful awaking. Athis home all was joy and brightness: there were silence and anxiety nolonger. Mrs. Lloyd and Mary went singing from room to room, Mr. Lloydcame back from his office whistling merrily, and sure to be ready withsomething to make Bert laugh. Frank ran in and out, the very type ofjoyous boyhood, and each day brought its stream of callers, with warmcongratulations upon Bert's happy restoration to health. 

It would be a queer boy that would not enjoy this, seeing that it allcentred upon him, and Bert fully appreciated the important position heheld for the time being. Then what could be more delightful than thesense of returning strength, of enlarging activity?--to find one's-selfwith a clearer head, a sharper appetite, and a more vigorous frame, asone glorious summer day succeeded another; while the birds sang blithelyin the apple tree, and the blue waters of the ever-beautiful harbourrippled gently before the morning zephyrs, or were stirred into whitecaps by the afternoon breeze?

Bert's illness left no trace behind so far as his physical nature wasconcerned, and yet he was not altogether the same boy as before it laidhim low. Deep solemn thoughts had been his as he lay upon his bed, notknowing whether he should ever rise from it again. His life had been inmany respects a more than ordinarily blameless one, and yet when he hadlittle else to do save look back upon it, an almost overwhelming senseof his worthlessness came upon him, and he was filled with wonder thatGod could love him at all. 

But that He did love him, and for His Son's sake had accepted him, henever for a moment doubted. Now that he was restored to health andstrength, he did not seek to forget those feelings, nor would he allowhis convictions of great obligations Godward to lead him nowhere. Heresolved to do some definite work for his Divine Master, and to seizethe first opportunity that presented itself. 

His friendship with Frank passed into a deeper, stronger phase thanever before. It might with much truth have been said of them as it wasof two friends of old, that the soul of Bert was knit with the soul ofFrank, and that Bert loved him as his own soul. They had so much incommon now, and they found it so delightful to strengthen one another'shands in the Lord by talking together of His goodness. 

There was one matter that troubled Frank deeply, and that formed thesubject of many a long and earnest conversation. His father was a manabout whose lack of religion there could be no doubt. He was a big, bluff, and rather coarse-grained man, not over-scrupulous in business, but upon the whole as honest and trustworthy as the bulk of humanity. Bydint of sheer hard work and shrewdness he had risen to a position ofwealth and importance, and, as self-made men are apt to do, laid muchmore stress upon what he owed to himself than upon what he owed to hisCreator. In his own rough way, that is to say in somewhat the samefashion as we may suppose a lion loves his whelp, he loved the onlychild the wife long since dead had left him. He was determined that heshould lack nothing that was worth having, and in nothing did Mr. Bowsershow his shrewdness more clearly than in fully appreciating theadvantage it was to Frank to be the chosen friend and constant companionof Lawyer Lloyd's son. He had manifested his satisfaction at theintimacy by having Frank make Bert handsome presents at Christmas time, and in other ways. In all this, however, his only thought had been forFrank. He made no attempt to cultivate intimate relations with theLloyds on his own account. He thought them both too refined, and tooreligious for him, and accordingly declined so far as he civilly could, Mr. Lloyd's overtures toward a better acquaintance. 

Such a man was Frank's father; and now that the boy's heart was full ofjoy and light, because the peace that passeth understanding was his, helonged that his father should share the same happy experience. 

"If father were only a Christian, like your father, Bert, I would be thehappiest boy in all the world, " said he, one day. "Oh, Bert, what can Ido to make him interested in religion?"

"Why don't you ask Dr. Chrystal to go and talk with him?" inquired Bert. 

"It wouldn't be a bit of use. He won't go to church to hear Dr. Chrystal, nor any other minister, and he wouldn't listen to them if theycame to see him. He says he has no faith in parsons, anyway. "

"Well, do you think he would listen to father?" suggested Bert. 

Frank's face lighted up. He had been thinking of this himself. 

"Perhaps he would, Bert, " he said, eagerly. "I know he thinks a greatdeal of your father. I've heard him say that he practised better thanmany of the parsons preached. "

Bert flushed with pleasure at this frank compliment to his father. 

"Then suppose we ask him to speak to your father about religion, " hesaid. 

"Oh, yes; let us, " assented Frank. Accordingly, that evening the twoboys brought the matter before Mr. Lloyd, who listened to them veryattentively. Then he asked a question or two. 

"Are you quite sure, Frank, that I am the very best person to speak toyour father on this important subject?"

"Yes, Mr. Lloyd; I'm quite sure you are. "

"Well, do you know, Frank, I don't agree with you. I think I know ofsomebody that can do it much better than I can, " said Mr. Lloyd, with ameaning smile. 

Frank's face fell. He had set his heart upon having Mr. Lloyd do it, andcould not believe that anybody else would do as well. After a littlepause, he asked:

"Who is this somebody else, Mr. Lloyd?"

"He's not very far away from us now, Frank, " answered Mr. Lloyd, stillwith that curious smile. 

"You don't mean Bert, do you?" cried Frank, looking a little bewildered. 

"No; I don't mean Bert, " responded Mr. Lloyd. 

"Then----. " He stopped short, a deep blush spread over his features; hecaught his breath, and then, as if hoping that the answer would be inthe negative, exclaimed:

"Do you mean _me_?"

"Yes, I do mean just you; and nobody else, Frank. "

Frank threw himself back in his chair with a despairing gesture, saying:

"Oh, I could never do it, Mr. Lloyd. I know I never could. "

Mr. Lloyd looked at him with tender sympathy, and laying his hand uponhis knee, said, gently:

"Do you remember the motto, Frank: 'Quit you like men, be strong'?"

Frank heaved a heavy sigh. "But how can I go about it, Mr. Lloyd?" heasked. 

Mr. Lloyd thought a moment. 

"I have an idea, Frank, " he said, presently. "Suppose you were to startfamily prayer in the mornings. I believe it would be the means of doingyour father good. "

At first Frank could not be persuaded that such a thing was possible ashis presuming to conduct family prayer in his father's presence, butthey talked long and earnestly about it, and finally he went awaypromising to think it over very seriously. 

As he turned the matter over in his mind, however, little by little hiscourage strengthened until at length he felt himself equal to theundertaking. It was a Sunday morning that he chose upon which to makethe venture. So soon as breakfast was finished, and his father hadmoved away from the table, wishing to himself that there was a paperpublished on Sundays as well as upon other days, for he had time to readit comfortably, Frank took up his Bible, and said, very hesitatingly:

"Father, do you mind if we have family prayers?"

"Eh! What's that? What do you mean?" asked Mr. Bowser, looking up as ifhe could hardly believe his ears. 

"Why, father, " answered Frank, timidly, "you know they have prayers atMr. Lloyd's every morning, and I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind ourhaving them, too. "

Mr. Bowser scanned his son's face with a hard searching gaze, but Franklooked back at him with so much love and respect in his clear, browneyes, that all suspicion was banished from his mind, and his heartmelted not a little. 

"Who's going to have the prayers? You don't expect me to, do you?" heasked, gruffly. 

"Well, father, if you don't care to, I'll try, if you've no objection, "replied Frank, modestly. 

Mr. Bowser was silent for a moment. He had noted a change in Frank oflate, and had been impressed by the increased interest he took in churchand Sunday school as proven by the regularity and punctuality of hisgoing off to the services. Had Frank become a Christian like Mr. Lloyd?He would not be sorry if he had, although it was rather a pity that hehad not waited until he had had his fling first, sowed a few wild oats, seen something of the world, and then settled down. Here was a goodchance to find out. So with some relaxing of his gruffness, Mr. Bowsersaid:

"All right, my boy. I've no objections so long as you're not toolong-winded. Go ahead. "

Thus encouraged, Frank, with beating heart and trembling lips, proceededto read one of the Psalms; and then, kneeling down, offered up a simple, fervent, faith-filled prayer. 

Mr. Bowser did not kneel. He sat sturdily upright in his chair, lookingstraight before him. But he could not prevent strange emotions awakingwithin him as he heard his boy, whom he was still inclined to look uponas hardly more than a child, though he was now sixteen years of age, address himself in reverent, earnest tones to the Great Being that hehad so utterly neglected himself. 

When Frank had finished, his father rose and left the room withoutsaying a word. That evening Frank took tea with Bert, and they went tochurch together. Shortly after the service began Bert happened to glanceabout the church, and his eye fell upon somebody that caused him to givea little start of surprise, and then nudge Frank violently. On Frank'sturning round to see what Bert meant, he too started, and an expressionof joy that was beautiful to witness came over his countenance, forthere, in a pew not far behind him, and evidently trying hard to lookentirely at his ease, sat Mr. Bowser, this being his first appearance inchurch for many long years. 

Dr. Chrystal preached one of his very best sermons that night, and allthe time he was speaking Frank was praying that his earnest words mightgo straight home to his father's heart. That was the beginning of thegood work. Thenceforward every Sunday evening found Mr. Bowser anattentive listener; and Frank, continuing the morning prayersfaithfully, was surprised and delighted when one day his father broughthome the finest family Bible he could find in the city, and handing itto him, said, in his kindest manner:

"Here, my boy, if we're going to have family prayers, we may just aswell do it in proper style. "

Frank joyfully reported all this to the Lloyds, who rejoiced with himover the prospect there was of his prayers for his father being fullyanswered ere long, and Mr. Lloyd was therefore not at all surprised whenone evening Mr. Bowser called, and in an agitated, confused way beggedthe favour of an interview with him in the privacy of his study. 

It was as Mr. Lloyd anticipated. Frank's simple, but sincere efforts athome missionary work had been crowned with success. His father's hard, worldly nature had been stirred to its depths. A longing the world couldnot appease had been awakened within him, and he had come to Mr. Lloydas one in whom he placed implicit confidence, that he might guide himtoward the light. The conversation, which Mr. Bowser found wonderfullyhelpful to him in his bewildered, anxious state of mind, was followed bymany others, and the result was made evident when, ere that year closed, Mr. Bowser publicly united himself with the Church; and there were fewwho were familiar with the circumstances that could restrain a tear ofsympathetic joy when Dr. Chrystal made the event the occasion for abeautiful and inspiring sermon upon the place of the young in thevineyard of the Lord. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

NOT DEAD, BUT TRANSLATED. 

Mr. Bowser was not a man to do anything by halves. When he was worldly, he was worldly out and out, and now that he had broken with the worldand entered into the service of God, he took up the business of religionwith a thoroughness and ardour that was entirely characteristic. Hefound himself wofully ignorant of the simplest Scripture truths. Untilhis conversion, he had not opened his Bible since he left his mother'scare. He, therefore, determined to become a scholar. So one Saturday heasked Frank:

"Frank, what is it you do at Sunday school?"

"Well, father, we sing, and pray, and study the Bible, that's aboutall, " answered Frank, wondering to himself what his father had in mind. 

"Do any grown-up people go there, Frank?" inquired Mr. Bowser, innocently. 

Frank smiled, partly at his father's lack of knowledge, and partlybecause he thought he caught a glimpse of his purpose. 

"Why, of course, father, " he exclaimed, "lots of them. Mr. Lloyd goesthere, and Mr. Silver, and ten or twelve other gentlemen. "

"Does Mr. Lloyd go to Sunday school?" asked Mr. Bowser, eagerly. "Why, what does he do there?"

"He teaches, father. He has charge of the men's Bible class. "

"So Mr. Lloyd has a Bible class there, " mused Mr. Bowser aloud; then, turning again to Frank, "Do you think, Frank, he would mind if I joinedit. "

Frank could not help smiling at the idea of Mr. Lloyd being otherwisethan glad at having a new member in his class. 

"Indeed, he won't. On the contrary, he'll be mighty glad, I'm sure, " heanswered, warmly. 

"Very well, then, Frank, I'll go with you to Sunday school to-morrow. Idon't know anything about the Bible, and I think there's no better placefor me to learn, " said Mr. Bowser, as he went off, leaving Frank sohappy at the prospect of having his father go to school with him that hecould hardly contain himself. 

Very deep was Mr. Lloyd's pleasure when on Sunday afternoon burly Mr. Bowser walked into his class room and took his seat in the most remotecorner. He went up to him at once, and gave him a cordial greeting. 

"I've come as a learner, Mr. Lloyd, " said Mr. Bowser. "I know little ornothing about the Bible, and I want you to teach me. "

"I am sure I shall be most happy to do anything that lies in my power, Mr. Bowser, " responded Mr. Lloyd, heartily, "and there are others in theclass that you will find will help you also. "

And so Mr. Bowser, putting aside all foolish notions about pride orself-importance, became one of the most faithful and attentiveattendants of the Bible class. Rain or shine, the whole year round, hischair was rarely vacant, until Mr. Lloyd came to look upon him as hismodel member, and to feel somewhat lost, if for any reason he wascompelled to be absent. 

But Mr. Lloyd was not his only guide and instructor. Dr. Chrystal hadattracted him from the very first. The sermon he preached on thateventful Sunday evening, when, yielding to an impulse which seemed tohim little better than curiosity, he had attended church for the firsttime in so many years, had been followed by others, each one of whichmet some need or answered some question springing up in Mr. Bowser'sheart, and his admiration and affection for the eloquent preacher hadincreased with a steady growth. 

In truth, Dr. Chrystal was a man of no common mould. He united inhimself characteristics that might seem to have belonged to widelydifferent natures. He was deeply spiritual, yet intensely alive to thespirit of the times. He was as thoroughly conversant with modernthought as he was with the history of God's ancient people. Although aprofound student, he was anything but a Dr. Dry-as-Dust. On thecontrary, the very children heard him gladly because he never forgotthem in his sermons. There was always something for them as well as forthe older folks. Indeed, perhaps one of the best proofs of his singularfitness for his work was the way the young people loved him. Boys likeBert and Frank, for instance, probably the hardest class in thecongregation for the minister to secure to himself, while they never fora moment felt tempted to take any liberties with him, yet, on the otherhand, never felt ill at ease in his presence, nor sought to avoid him. He made them feel at home with him, and the consequence was that theproportion of boys belonging to his church exceeded that of any otherchurch in the city. 

Dr. Chrystal had of late been causing his friends no small concern byshowing signs of failing health. His heart began to give him trouble. Somuch so, indeed, that now and then he would be obliged to pause in themidst of his sermon, and rest a little before resuming. His physiciantold him he had been working too hard, and that what he needed was totake things more easily, or, better still, to lay aside his work for aseason, and recuperate by a good long vacation. 

At first he would not listen to any such proposition. There seemed somuch to be done all around him that would be undoubtedly left undoneunless he did it himself, that he felt as if he could not desert hispost. But it soon became clear to him that the warnings he had receivedmust be heeded, and ere long he was able to make up his mind to followthe physician's advice, and indulge himself with an ocean voyage, andprolonged vacation in Europe. 

As the time for his temporary separation from his congregation drew nearthere was a marked increase of fervour and loving earnestness on thepart of Dr. Chrystal toward his people. It was as though he thought hemight perhaps never return to them, and it therefore behoved him notonly to preach with special unction, but to lose no opportunity ofsaying to each one with whom he came in contact something that mightremain with them as a fruitful recollection in the event of its provingto be his last word to them. Meeting Bert upon the street one day, helinked his arm with his, and entered at once into a conversationregarding the boy's spiritual interests. Bert felt perfectly at homewith his pastor, and did not hesitate to speak with him in the samespirit of frank unreserve that he would with his father. 

"I have been thinking much about you, Bert, " said Dr. Chrystal, in tonesof warm affection, "and saying to myself that if, in the providence ofGod, I should never come back to my work, I would like to leavesomething with you that would linger in your memory after I am gone. "

"But you're coming back again all right, Dr. Chrystal, " said Bert, looking up with much concern in his countenance, for he had neverthought of its being otherwise. 

"I am sure I hope and pray so with all my heart, " replied Dr. Chrystal, fervently. "But there are many things to be considered, and God aloneknows how it will be with me a few months hence. I am altogether in Hishands. "

"Well, God knows right well that we couldn't have a better minister thanyou, sir, and so there's no fear but He'll send you back to us allright, " returned Bert, his eager loyalty to his pastor quite carryinghim away. 

Dr. Chrystal smiled sympathetically at the boy's enthusiasm. 

"There are just as good fish in the sea as have ever yet been caught, Bert, " he answered. 

"I thoroughly appreciate your kind, and I know sincere, compliment, butit was not to talk about myself that I joined you, but about yourself. Ihave been thinking that it is full time you took up some definite workfor your Heavenly Master. Don't you think so, too?"

"Yes, I do, sir; and so does Frank, and we're both quite willing to makea beginning, but we don't just know what to go at. "

"I have been thinking about that, too, Bert, and I have an idea I wantto discuss with you. You know the streets that lie between the north andsouth portions of our city, and how densely they are packed with people, very few of whom make any pretensions to religion at all. Now, would itnot be possible for you and Frank to do a little city missionary work inthose streets. The field is white unto the harvest, but the labourersare so few that it is sad to see how little is being done. What do youthink about it?"

Bert did not answer at once. He knew well the locality Dr. Chrystal hadin mind, and the class of people that inhabited it. For square aftersquare, tenement houses, tall, grimy, and repulsive, alternated withgroggeries, flaunting, flashy, and reeking with iniquity. The residentswere of the lowest and poorest order. Filth, vice, and poverty, heldhigh carnival the whole year round. In the day time crowds of tatteredroughs played rudely with one another in the streets, and after dark, drunken soldiers, sailors, and wharf men, made night hideous with theirdegraded revelry or frenzied fighting. 

And yet these people had souls to save, and even though they might seemsunken in sin beyond all hope of recovery, they had children that mightbe trained to better ways and a brighter future. It was these childrenthat Dr. Chrystal had in mind when he spoke to Bert. A union missionschool had lately been established in the very heart of thisunattractive district, and it was sorely in need of workers. 

Both Bert and Frank were quite competent to undertake work of this kind, did they but give their minds to it, and Dr. Chrystal was anxious tohave their interest in it thoroughly aroused before he went away. 

After a few moments' silence, during which his brain had been very busywith conflicting thoughts, Bert looked up into his pastor's face, andsaid, in a doubtful way:

"Don't you think, sir, that is rather hard work to put us at at first?"

Dr. Chrystal gave him a tender smile. "It is hard work, I know, Bert, "said he. "I would not for a moment try to argue that it is anythingelse, but I am none the less desirous of seeing you engaged in it. Youand Frank would make splendid recruiting sergeants for the littlemission school, and you could be very helpful in keeping order, or evenin teaching at the morning session. By doing this you would notinterfere with either your church-going or your own Sunday school in theafternoon. I wish you would talk the matter over with Frank, and, ofcourse, consult your parents about it. "

Bert readily promised that he would do this, for although he, as wasnatural enough, shrank from undertaking what could not be otherwise thantrying and difficult work, yet he felt that if his father fullyapproved of it, and Frank took it up heartily, he would be able at leastto give it a trial. Dr. Chrystal was evidently well pleased with theresult of the conversation, and in parting with Bert took his hand inhis, and pressing it warmly, said:

"God's best blessings be upon you, Bert. You are fitted to do good workfor Him. May you ever be a workman that needeth not to be ashamed. "

Little did Bert imagine that these would be the last words Dr. Chrystalwould address to him personally, or that, as he turned away with aseraphic smile upon his face, he would see him but once more alive. 

The following Sunday was the last that Dr. Chrystal would spend with hiscongregation previous to his going away, and as he appeared before themat the morning service it was the general opinion that his abstentionfrom work was taking place none too soon, for he certainly seemed tosorely need it. 

In spite of evident weakness, he preached with unabated eloquence andfervour. Indeed, he was perhaps more earnest than usual, and his sermonmade a profound impression upon the congregation that thronged thechurch. In the afternoon he visited the Sunday school, and said a wordor two to each one of the teachers as he passed up and down the classes. The evening service found the church filled to its utmost capacity, anda smile of inexpressible love and sweetness illuminated the pastor'spale face as he came out from the study, and beheld the multitudegathered to hear the Gospel from his lips. 

"Doesn't he look like an angel?" whispered Bert to Frank, as the boyssat together in their accustomed place. 

"He doesn't simply look like one. He is one, " Frank whispered back, andBert nodded his assent. 

The service proceeded with singing, and prayer, and Bible reading, andthen came the sermon. Dr. Chrystal was evidently labouring under strongemotion. His words did not at first flow with their wonted freedom, andsome among his listeners began to think it would have been well if hehad not attempted to preach. But presently all this hesitation passedaway, and he launched out into an earnest impassioned appeal to hispeople to be steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of theLord. Although he did not say expressly that this might be the last timehe would ever speak to them from the pulpit, there was something in hismanner that showed this thought was present in his mind. 

He had got about half through his sermon, and every eye in thatcongregation was fixed upon him, and every ear attent to his burningwords, when suddenly he stopped. A deadly pallor took possession of hisface; he pressed his left hand with a gesture of pain against his heart, while with the other he strove to steady himself in the pulpit. For amoment he stood there silent, and swaying to and fro before the startledcongregation; and then, ere Mr. Lloyd, who had been watching himintently all through the service, could spring up the steps to his side, he fell back with a dull thud upon the cushioned seat behind him, andthence sank to the floor. 

When Mr. Lloyd reached him, and bending down lifted him in his strongarms from the floor, Dr. Chrystal opened his eyes, looked upon hisfriend with a smile that seemed a reflection from heaven, breathedsoftly the words: "The Lord be with you, " and then, with a gentle sigh, closed his eyes to open them again in the presence of the Master he hadserved so well. 

It is not possible to describe the scene that followed, when all presentbecame aware that their beloved pastor had gone from them upon a journeyfrom which there could be no returning. They were so stunned, saddened, and bewildered that they knew not what to do with themselves. The menand women sat weeping in their seats, or wandered aimlessly about theaisles to speak with one another, while the children, not realising thefull import of what had happened, looked on in fear and wonder. It wassome time before the congregation dispersed. Dr. Chrystal's body wastenderly carried into the study, and there was nothing more to do; andyet they lingered about as if hoping that perhaps it might prove to beonly a faint or trance, after all, for it seemed so hard to believe thedreadful truth. 

As Bert and Frank walked home together, with hearts full to overflowingand tear-stained faces, Mr. Silver caught up to them, and pushing themapart, took an arm of each. For a few steps he said nothing; and then, as if musing to himself:

"'God buries His workmen, but His work goes on. ' Our pastor has gone. Heis not--because God has taken him--not dead, but translated. Upon whomwill his mantle fall, boys?"

"I am sure I don't know, Mr. Silver, " replied Bert. "But this I do know, that we can never have a better minister. "

"No, I suppose not--according to our way of thinking, at all events; butwe must not let that thought paralyse our energies. The vacant pulpithas its lesson for each one of us, boys, " returned Mr. Silver. 

"Yes, it means work, and it seems so strange that Dr. Chrystal shouldhave spoken to me as he did the very last time he saw me, " said Bert. And then he proceeded to repeat the conversation concerning the citymission work. 

"I am so glad he spoke to you about that, " said Mr. Silver. "I hadintended doing so myself, but it has been far better done now. You willdo what you can, both of you?"

"Yes, we will, " replied Bert and Frank together, in tones ofunmistakable purpose. 

"Perhaps, then, " said Mr. Silver, reflectively, "the question I asked amoment ago may yet be answered by you, dear boys. Would you like tothink that Dr. Chrystal's mantle should fall upon you, and that in duetime you should take up the glorious work he has just laid down? To whatnobler career can a man aspire than that of being one of the Master'sshepherds?"

The boys were silent. The thought was new to them, and altogether toogreat to be grasped at once. And Mr. Silver wisely did not press themfor an answer before he bade them "Good-night, and God bless you both. "

But his question remained in their minds. It proved a seed thought thatin the case of one of them was later on destined to find itself in goodground, and to spring up and bear goodly fruit. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

A BOY NO LONGER. 

Frank and Bert put their hearts into the city mission work, just as theydid into everything else that they undertook, and it was well they did. For surely nothing save genuine zeal, and fidelity to a strong purposecould have carried them through the experiences that awaited them. Themission school was still small and struggling. But for the almost heroicenergies of its superintendent, a clerk in a city banking house, itcould not have been carried on at all. He was a small, slight, fragile-looking man, but he had a heart big enough for a giant, andhaving consecrated his spare hours to this most unattractive of allphases of Christian work, he carried it on with a self-denyingearnestness that no difficulties could dampen, nor obstacles appal. Hewas as ready with his purse, to the extent of its slender ability, as hewas with his Bible, and his splendid unselfishness was so wellappreciated by the dangerous degraded beings among whom he toiled, thatalone and unprotected he might go among them at any hour of the day ornight, and meet with nothing but respect and rude courtesy. 

Such a man was David McMaster, under whose direction Bert and Frank lostno time in placing themselves; and a right glad welcome they had fromhim, his pale, thin face fairly glowing with pleasure at the addition tohis force of two such promising recruits. With him they went the roundsof squalid tenements, hideous back alleys, and repulsive shanties, thetattered children gazing at them with faces in which curiosity wasmingled with aversion, and their frousy parents giving them looks ofenmity and mistrust, no doubt because they were so clean and welldressed. 

But apparently noting nothing of this, Mr. McMaster led the way from onerookery to another, introducing his new workers to their wretchedinhabitants with an easy grace that disarmed all suspicion, and madethem feel that so long as he was the presiding genius of the school, they had nothing to fear in the worst locality. 

The following Sunday morning they began work on their own account. Theschool was held at ten o'clock, closing just in time to permit theteachers to get to church, and the part assigned to Bert and Frank wasto go out into the highways and byways, and invite the children playingin the dirt to come to the school, or else to go to the homes, if suchthey could be called, of those whose names were already upon the roll, and secure their attendance at the service. 

Then when the school opened they found plenty to do, distributing thehymn books, helping in the singing, keeping a sharp look-out for unrulybehaviour, watching the door lest any scholar should take it into hishead to bolt, insuring an equitable division of the picture papers, andso on until the hour came to close the school, and they turned theirsteps churchward, feeling with good reason that they had really beendoing work for God, and hard work, too. 

They soon grew to love Mr. McMaster as much as they admired his zeal. Hewas in many ways a quaint, curious character. His body seemed so smalland insignificant, and his spirit so mighty. He knew neither fear nordespair in the prosecution of his chosen work, and it was impossible tobe associated with him without being infected by his unquenchableardour. For some time no special incident marked their work, and thenBert had an experience that might have brought his part with it to anend had he been made of less sturdy stuff. 

In company with Mr. McMaster he was making the usual round previous tothe opening of the school, beating up unreliable scholars, and hadentered a damp, noisome alley, lined on either side with tumble-downapologies for houses. Mr. McMaster took one side and Bert the other, andthey proceeded to visit the different dwellers in this horrible place. Bert had knocked at several doors without getting any response, for thepeople were apt to lie in bed late on Sunday morning, and then hisattention was aroused by sounds of crying mingled with oaths, that camefrom the garret of a villainous-looking tenement. He could hear thevoices of a woman and of a child raised in entreaty and terror, andwithout pausing to consider the consequences, sprang up the brokenstairs to the room from which they issued. 

On opening the door a scene presented itself that would have stirred thesympathies of a man of stone. Pat Brannigan, the big wharf labourer, haddevoted the greater portion of his week's wages to making himself andhis boon companions drunk with the vile rum dealt out at the groggeryhard by. At midnight he had stumbled home, and throwing himself upon hisbed sought to sleep off the effects of his carouse. Waking up late inthe morning with a raging headache, a burning tongue, and bloodshoteyes, he had become infuriated at his poor, little girl, that coweredtremblingly in a corner, because she would not go out and get him somemore drink. Half-crazed, and utterly reckless, he had sprung at thechild, and might have inflicted mortal injury upon her had not themother interposed, and kept him at bay for a moment, while she joinedher shrieks to those the girl was already uttering. 

It was just at this moment that Bert entered the room. As quick as aflash he sprang to Pat Brannigan's side, and seized his arm now upliftedto strike down the unhappy wife. With a howl of rage the big bruteturned to see who had thus dared to interfere. He did not know Bert, andhis surprise at seeing a well-dressed stranger in the room made himhesitate a moment. Then with an oath he demanded:

"Who may you be, and what's your business here?"

Bert looked straight into his eyes, as he answered, quietly:

"I heard the noise, and I came in to see what was the matter. "

"Then you can just be taking yourself off again as fast as you like, "growled the giant, fiercely. 

Bert did not stir. 

"Be off with you now. Do you hear me?" shouted Brannigan, raising hisclenched fist in a way there was no mistaking. 

Still Bert did not move. 

"Then take that, " yelled Brannigan, aiming a terrible blow at the boy. But before it could reach him the poor wife, with a wild shriek, sprangin between them, and her husband's great fist descended upon her head, felling her to the floor, where she lay as though dead. 

At this moment, Mr. McMaster rushed in through the open door. PatBrannigan knew him well, and when sober held him in profound respect. Even now his appearance checked his fury, and he stood swaying in thecentre of the room, looking with his bleared, bloodshot eyes, first atMr. McMaster, and then at the motionless heap upon the floor at hisfeet. 

Advancing a step or two, Mr. McMaster looked into Brannigan's fieryface, and asked, sternly, as he pointed to the insensible woman lyingbetween them:

"Is that your work?"

The giant quailed before the fearless, condemning glance of the man whoseemed like a pigmy beside him. His head fell upon his breast, andwithout attempting a reply, he slunk over to the other end of the room, flung himself into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. 

"Come, Bert, let us lift her up on the bed, " said Mr. McMaster, andbetween them Mrs. Brannigan was lifted gently, and placed upon themiserable bed. 

"Now, Katie, get us some cold water, quick, " said he, turning to thelittle girl, who watched him with wondering eyes. As if glad to get outof the room, she sped away, and presently returned with a tin of water, with which Mr. McMaster tenderly bathed Mrs. Brannigan's forehead, andsoon the poor sufferer recovered consciousness. Mr. McMaster and Bertthen went away, the former promising to look in again after school wasover, and see if further help might be required. 

When Bert told of the morning's experience at home, his mother becamevery much agitated, and seemed strongly inclined to oppose hiscontinuing the work. But Mr. Lloyd was not of the same opinion at all. He thought it a very admirable training for Bert, and Bert himself hadno disposition to give it up. Accordingly, he went on as though nothinghad happened, meeting with many discouragements, and few real successes, yet sustained by a steady impulse to willing service, strengthened by areal interest in the work itself. 

The days of Bert's boyhood were rapidly passing by. The time wasapproaching for him to enter college, and once enrolled as anundergraduate he could of course be counted a boy no longer. Not indeedthat he was growing old in the sense of becoming too prim or particularto indulge in boyish sports and pranks. There was nothing premature inhis development. He was in advance of many boys of his age, it is true, but that was only because he strove to be. 

He was not content unless he stood among the leaders, whether in studyor sport. He looked forward to college with ardent expectation. Eversince the days of Mr. Garrison's school he had been accustomed to seethe students in their Oxford caps and flowing black gowns going to andfrom the university which had its home in a handsome free-stone buildingthat stood right in the heart of the city, and he had felt impatient forthe time to come when he might adopt the same odd and striking costume. 

During the past year his studies had been directed with specialreference to the matriculation examination. As regards the classics, hecould not have had a better teacher than Dr. Johnston, and his progressin knowledge of them had been sure and steady. In mathematics, however, he was hardly up to the mark, partly because they were not taught withthe same enthusiasm at Dr. Johnston's, and partly because he did nottake to them very kindly himself. Mr. Lloyd accordingly thought it wiseto engage a tutor who would give him daily lessons during the mid-summerholidays. 

Bert, as was quite natural, did not altogether relish the idea ofmingling work with play in this fashion in the glorious summer weatherwhen the days seemed all too short for the enjoyment that was to be had;but when Frank, who was of course to go to college also, enteredheartily into the plan, and Mr. Scott, the tutor, proved to be a veryable and interesting instructor, full of enthusiasm about theuniversity, in which he was one of the most brilliant students, Bert'sindifference soon disappeared, and the three lads--for Mr. Scott wasstill in his teens--had a fine time together that summer, studying hardfor two hours each morning, and spending the rest of the day in boating, or cricket, or some other pleasant fashion. 

As the heat of summer yielded to the cool breezes of autumn, and thetime for the opening of the college drew near, Bert grew very excited. There were two scholarships offered at each matriculation examination, one open to those coming from the city, the other to those from thecountry. He had fixed his ambition upon the city scholarship, anddetermined to do his best to win it. He had caught some of his tutor'senthusiasm, and fully appreciated the importance of a brilliantbeginning. Accordingly, he gave diligent heed to the good advice Mr. Scott delighted to give him, as well as to the studies he set for him, and looked forward hopefully to the approaching examination. 

Toward the end of October the examination took place. It was the boys'first experience of a written examination, and it is little wonder ifthey felt nervous about it. 

With Mr. Scott as guide they made their way to the university building, where he led them along the echoing stone corridors to a door inscribed, "Library;" and then, wishing them the best of fortune, bade them enterand try their fate. They found themselves in a large bright room whosefloor was covered with desks, and the walls lined with bookcases, andhaving at one end a baize-covered table, around which sat severalspectacled gentlemen attired in long black gowns, and chatting busilywith one another. They took no notice of the two boys, who sat down atthe nearest desk, and awaited developments. They were the firstcandidates in the room, but others presently came in until more than ascore had gathered. 

All evidently felt more or less nervous, although some tried very hardto appear unconcerned. They varied in age from Bert, who wasundoubtedly the youngest, to a long-bearded, sober-visaged Scotchman, who might almost have been his father; their appearance was as differentas their ages, some being spruce, well-dressed city lads, and others themost rustic-looking of youths, clad in rough homespun. They each satdown in the first seat they could find, and then stared about them as ifthey would like very much to know what was going to happen next. 

They had not long to wait in uncertainty. A short, stout, pleasant-facedprofessor disengaged himself from the group at the table, and steppingup to the platform, said, in a smooth voice, with a strong Scotchaccent:

"If you are ready to begin, gentlemen, will you please arrangeyourselves so as to occupy only every alternate desk. "

There was a little noise and bustle as this order was being carried out, and then they settled down again, with a vacant desk between each pairas a precaution against whispered assistance. The next proceeding was todistribute paper to the candidates, they being expected to supply theirown pens and ink. And then came what all were awaiting with beatingpulse--viz. , the examination paper. Each one as he received his paperran his eye eagerly down the list of questions, his countenance growingbright or gloomy according as, to this hasty survey, the questionsseemed easy or difficult. 

Bert scanned his list rapidly, gave a great sigh of relief, and thenturned to Frank with a meaning smile, which said more plainly thanwords:

"I'm all right. "

Frank smiled back, in token that he was all right, too, and then the twoboys bent to their work. 

They did not get along very fast at the start. It was their firstwritten examination, and this, added to their natural nervousness, keptboth their ideas and their ink from flowing freely. But after a fewminutes they forgot themselves in their eagerness to commit to paper theanswers to the questions before them, and for an hour or more theyscribbled away until the first paper, which was upon the classics, hadnothing unanswered left upon it. 

Bert finished first, and the professor, noticing him unemployed, broughthim another paper, this time the mathematical one. As he expected, hedid not do quite as well with it. But he felt sure of being right in hisanswers to six out of the ten questions, and very hopeful about twoothers, so that altogether he was well satisfied. 

The third and last paper was upon the English branches--history, grammar, geography, and so forth, and he polished this off with littledifficulty, making a clean sweep of the dozen questions. All this tookuntil after one o'clock, and when he laid down his pen with his taskfinished, he felt pretty tired, and anxious to get out and stretchhimself. Frank, however, was not quite through, so he waited for him, and then the friends hurried off to compare notes, and estimate theirchances. 

The results would not be declared for two days at least, and Bert foundit very hard to keep his impatience in check. He could think of nothingelse than those examinations. Having answered so many questions, he feltnot the slightest uneasiness as to passing; but the scholarship--ah!that was the point. Mr. Scott had made it very clear what an importantposition a scholarship winner held in his class. It gave him the lead atonce, and was in every way an honour to be highly coveted. 

Well, the longest days have their ending, and the two days of exciteduncertainty dragged themselves past, and on Friday morning with a heartbeating like a trip hammer, Bert hastened to the university. The resultswould be posted up on a huge blackboard that hung in the centralcorridor, and on entering he found an eager crowd thronging about thisboard, through which he had some difficulty in making his way. But bydint of pushing and elbowing, he soon got near enough to make out whatwas written on the long sheets of paper that occupied the centre of theboard, and then--how shall be described the bound of wild delight hisheart gave, when he read: "_The City Scholarship_--CUTHBERT LLOYD. "

Then underneath the word "_Passed_, " in large letters, the name"CUTHBERT LLOYD, " and a few names lower down "FRANK BOWSER, " whilebelow them were the rest of the candidates. 

Frank was beside him, and by a common impulse of joy the two friendsthrew their arms about each other, and hugged one another like twoenthusiastic young bears. Then they ran off as fast as their legs couldcarry them to tell the good news. 

There was not a happier, prouder family in all Acadia that night thanthe Lloyds. Mr. Bowser and Frank came in to exchange congratulations, and they rejoiced together over the boys' success. Mr. Bowser was asdelighted over Frank's passing as Mr. Lloyd was over Bert's scholarship. Like many men of defective education, he had very vague views aboutcollege. It was all a mystery to him, and that Frank, whom he was justfinding out to be something more than a boy, should so easily penetratethese mysteries, and take a good place among the candidates foradmission, was a source of unbounded satisfaction to him. 

After the first exuberance of joy had subsided, the conversation sobereddown somewhat, and they began to talk about the future. 

"Now, young gentlemen--for I suppose I dare not call you boys anylonger, " said Mr. Lloyd, smilingly--"you should soon be making up yourminds as to what part in life you intend to take, because, once you havedecided, your studies at college should be carried on with that end inview. Don't you think so, Mr. Bowser?"

"I most certainly do, sir, " replied Mr. Bowser, promptly. 

"Well, of course, it is not a question to be decided off hand, "continued Mr. Lloyd, " nor one which we should decide for you, unless youturn it over to us. So we will leave it with you for a while, if youlike. "

"I don't think that's necessary, father, " spoke up Bert. "Frank and Ihave pretty well made up our minds already--that is, of course, if thereis no objection. "

"And what is your choice, Frank?" asked Mr. Lloyd. 

"I would like to follow my father's business, if he will have me, sir, "answered Frank, giving his father a look of inquiry. 

Mr. Bowser's face flushed with pleasure. He rose from his chair, andcrossing the room to where his son sat, he put his big hand upon hisshoulder, and said, in his heartiest tones:

"Ay--that I will, my lad, and all that I have shall be yours when I amgone. "

"I hope that won't be for a long time yet, father, " said Frank, lookingup affectionately into his father's beaming face. 

"So do I, my boy, so do I; but when it does happen, God knows what acomfort it will be to me to leave such a son behind me. " And the tearsslipped down his broad cheeks as he went back to his chair. 

There was a moment's silence, for all had been affected by this touchinglittle scene; and then, Mr. Lloyd, turning to Bert, inquired of him:

"And what is your choice, Bert?"

"Well, father, if you think I can ever become fit for it, I would liketo be a minister, " he answered, modestly. 

It was now Mr. Lloyd's turn to become radiant. 

"My darling boy, you could not have delighted me more, " he cried. "Ithas been my desire and prayer for you, that this should be your choice, but I have said nothing to you, because I wanted you to be perfectlyfree and unbiassed by any thought of pleasing me. I see clearly now thatthis is the Lord's doing, and my heart is full to overflowing with joy. God bless you both, my boys. I am sure that the hope and prayer of usall is that in your manhood may be fulfilled the promise of your boyhoodthat has been so bright, and to which you have now bidden farewell. "

THE END. 

LORIMER AND GILLIES, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.