"God bless you, my boy!' says he, smoothin' the child's hair with his great hard hand. 'You're a true Englishman, every inch of you; you wouldn't tell a lie to save yer life! Well, if so be as yer father's cast yer off, I'll be yer father from this day forth; and if I ever forget you, then may God forget me!'

66

'And he kep' his word, too. When we got to Halifax, he found out the little un's aunt, and gev' her a lump o' money to make him comfortable; and now he goes to see the youngster every voyage, as reg'lar as can be; and to see the pair on 'em together -the little chap so fond of him, and not bearin' him a bit o' grudge-it's 'bout as pretty a sight as ever I seed. And now, sir, axin' yer parding, it's time for me to be goin' below; so I'll just wish yer good-night."

LESSON XXII.

The Owl and the Bell.

'Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome!"

Sang the Bell to himself in his house at home.

Up in the tower, away and unseen,

In a twilight of ivy, cool and green;
With his Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome!

Singing bass to himself in his house at home.

Said the Owl to himself, as he sat below
On a window-ledge, like a ball of snow:
"Pest on that fellow, sitting up there,
Always calling the people to prayer!
With his Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome!
Mighty big in his house at home!

"I will move," said the Owl. 'But it suits me well;

And one may get used to it,-who can tell?"

So he slept in the day with all his might,

And rose and flapped out in the hush of night,
When the Bell was asleep in his tower at home,
Dreaming over his Bing, Bang, Bome!

For the Owl was born so poor and genteel,
He was forced from the first to pick and steal;
He scorned to work for honest bread-
"Better have never been hatched," he said.
So he slept all day; for he dared not roam
Till the night had silenced the Bing, Bang, Bome!

When his six little darlings had chipped the egg,
He must steal the more; 'twas a shame to beg.
And they ate the more that they did not sleep well.
'It's their gizzards," said ma. Said pa, "It's the Bell!
For they quiver like leaves in a wind-blown tome,
When the Bell bellows out his Bing, Bang, Bome!"

But the Bell began to throb with the fear
Of bringing the house about his one ear;
And his people were patching all day long,
And propping the walls to make them strong.
So a fortnight he sat, and felt like a mome,
For he dared not shout his Bing, Bang, Bome!

Said the Owl to himself, and hissed as he said,
"I do believe the old fool is dead.
Now, now, I vow, I shall never pounce twice;
And stealing shall be all sugar and spice.
But I'll see the corpse, ere he's laid in the loam,
And shout in his ear Bing, Bim, Bang, Bome!
"Hoo! hoo!" he cried, as he entered the steeple,
"They 've hanged him at last, the righteous people!
His swollen tongue lolls out of his head-

Hoo! hoo! at last the old brute is dead.

There let him hang, the shapeless gnome!
Choked, with his throat full of Bing, Bang, Bome!"

So he danced about him, singing "Too-whoo!"
And flapped the poor Bell and said, "Is that you?
Where is your voice with its wonderful tone,
Banging poor owls and making them groan?
A fig for you now, in your great hall-dome!
Too-whoo is better than Bing, Bang, Bome!"

So brave was the Owl, the downy and dapper,
That he flew inside, and sat on the clapper;
And he shouted "Too-whoo!" till the echo awoke
Like the sound of a ghostly clapper-stroke.
"Ah, ha!" quoth the Owl, "I am quite at home;
I will take your place with my Bing, Bang, Bome!"

The Owl was uplifted with pride and self-wonder;
He hissed, and then called the echo thunder;
And he sat, the monarch of feathered fowl,
Till-Bang! went the Bell, and down went the Owl,
Like an avalanche of feathers and foam,
Loosed by the booming Bing, Bang, Bome.

He sat where he fell, as if naught was the matter,
Though one of his eyebrows was certainly flatter.
Said the eldest owlet, "Pa, you were wrong;
He's at it again with his vulgar song."
"Be still," said the Owl; "you're guilty of pride:
I brought him to life by perching inside."

"But why, my dear?" said his pillowy wife;
"You know he was always the plague of your life."
"I have given him a lesson of good for evil;
Perhaps the old ruffian will now be civil."
The Owl looked righteous, and raised his comb;
But the Bell bawled on his Bing, Bang, Bome!

-George MacDonald

LESSON XXIII.

Scene from The Rivals.

[Study particularly for the attitudes, but with attention to facial expres sion as well.]

Bob Acres, a stupid country squire, has been induced to chal. lenge his unknown rival, Beverley, who is really Captain Absolute, though Acres does not know it. Sir Lucius O'Trigger, who has challenged Captain Absolute, has consented at the same time to act as second for Acres, not knowing that Beverley and Abso lute are the same.

[Enter SIR LUCIUS and ACRES, with pistols.]

ACRES. By my valour, then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds levels and aims! I say it is a good distance.

SIR L. It is for muskets, or small field pieces. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave these things to me. Stay now, I'll show you. [Measures paces.] There, now, that is a very pretty distance-a pretty gentleman's distance.

ACRES. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off the cooler I shall take my aim.

SIR L. Faith, then, I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight!

ACRES. No, Sir Lucius, but I should think forty, or eight and thirty yards

SIR L. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.

ACRES. Odds bullets, no! by my valour, there is no merit in killing him so near! Do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot; a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me.

SIR L. Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before?

ACRES. No, Sir Lucius, never before.

SIR L. Ah, that's a pity-there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray, now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot? ACRES. Odds files! I've practised that-there, Sir Lucius, there -[puts himself into an attitude] a side-front, hey ?-Odds, I'll make myself small enough-I'll stand edgeways.

SIR L. Now, you're quite out-for if you stand so when I take my aim—[levelling at him]

ACRES. Zounds, Sir Lucius! are you sure it is not cocked?
SIR L. Never fear.

ACRES.

head!

But-but-you don't know-it may go off of its own

SIR L. Pho! be easy. Well, now, if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance; for if it misses a vital part on your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left. ACRES. A vital part!

SIR L. But there-fix yourself so [placing him]—let him see the broadside of your full front-there-now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do you any harm at all, and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain.

ACRES. Look ye, Sir Lucius-I'd just as leave be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one-so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.

SIR L. [looking at his watch]. Sure they don't mean to disappoint us-hah! no, faith-I think I see them coming.

ACRES. Hey!-what!-coming!

SIR L. Ay, who are those yonder, getting over the stile ?
ACRES.

There are two of them indeed!-well, let them come

hey, Sir Lucius!-we-we-we-we-won't run.

ACRES. No, I say we won't run, by my valour!

ACRES. Nothing, nothing, my dear friend--my dear Sir Lucius -but I-I-I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did.

SIR L. Oh, fie! consider your honour.

ACRES. Ay, true--my honour-do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two, every now and then, about my honour. SIR L. Well, here they're coming. [Looking.]

[Enter FAULKLAND and CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

SIR L. Gentlemen, your most obedient-hah!-what, Captain Absolute! So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself -to do a kind office, first for your friend-then to proceed to business on your own account? Mr. Beverley, [to Faulkland] if you choose your weapons, the Captain and I will measure the ground.

FAULK. My weapons, sir!

ACRES. Odds life! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular friends!

SIR L. What, sir, did not you come here to fight Mr. Acres? FAULK. Not I, upon my word, sir! But if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter

ACRES. No, no, Mr. Faulkland-I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian. Lookye, Sir Lucius, 'tis one Beverley I've chal