Tom nodded, and the bunch of keys were handed to him with an injunction to be sure and lock the door after him, and bring them back before eight o'clock. He walked quickly through the quadrangle and out into the close. The longing which had been upon him and driven him thus far, like the gad-fly in the Greek legends, giving him no rest in mind or body, seemed all of a sudden not to be satisfied, but to shrivel up, and pall. Why should I go on? It's no use," he As he walked up to the town he felt shy and afraid of being seen, and took the back.. streets; why, he didn't know, but he follow-thought, and threw himself at full length on ed his instinct. At the school-gates he made a dead pause; there was not a soul in the quadrangle—all was lonely and silent and sad. So with another effort he strode through the quadrangle, and into the school-house offices. He found the little matron in her room, in deep mourning; shook her hand, tried to talk, and moved nervously about: she was evidently thinking of the same subject as he, but he couldn't begin talking. the turf, and looked vaguely and listlessly at all the well-known objects. There were a few of the town boys playing cricket, their wicket pitched on the best piece in the middle of the big-side ground, a sin about equal to sacrilege in the eyes of a captain of the eleven. He was very nearly getting up to go and send them off. "Pshaw! they won't remember me. They've more right there than I," he muttered. And the thought that his scep "Where shall I find Thomas ?" said he, at tre had departed, and his mark was wearing last, getting desperate. "In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you take anything?" said the matron, looking rather disappointed. out, came home to him for the first time, and bitterly enough. He was lying on the very spot where the fights came off; where he himself had fought six years ago his first and last battle. He conjured up the scene till he could almost hear the shouts of the ring, and East's whisper in his ear; and looking across the close to the Doctor's private door, half ex "No, thank you," said he, and strode off again to find the old verger, who was sitting in his little den as of old, puzzling over hieroglyphics. He looked up through his spectacles, as pected to see it open, and the tall figure in cap Tom seized his hand and wrung it. and gown come striding under the elm-trees "Ah! you've heard all about it, sir, I see," toward him. said he. Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe-board, while the old man told his tale, and wiped his spectacles, and fairly flowed over with quaint, homely, honest sorrow. By the time he had done Tom felt much better. No, no! that sight could never be seen again. There was no flag flying on the round tower; the school-house windows were all shuttered up; and when the flag went up again, and the shutters came down, it would be to welcome a stranger. All that was left on earth of him whom he had honored, was "Where is he buried, Thomas?" said he lying cold and still under the chapel floor. at last. He would go in and see the place once more, and then leave it once for all. New men and new methods might do for other people; let those who would worship the rising star, he "Under the altar in the chapel, sir," answered Thomas. "You'd like to have the key, I dare say." "Thank you, Thomas-yes, I should, very at least would be faithful to the sun which much." And the old man fumbled had set. And so he got up, and walked to the chapel door and unlocked it, fancying himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and feeding on his own selfish sorrow. among his bunch, and then got up, as though he would go with him; but after a few steps stopped short and said, "Perhaps you'd like to go by yourself, sir?" He passed through the vestibule, and then paused for a moment to glance over the empty school-fellows; and form after form of boys, benches. His heart was still proud and high, nobler, and braver, and purer than he, rose and he walked up to the seat which he had up and seemed to rebuke him. Could he not last occupied as a sixth-form boy, and sat think of them, and what they had felt and himself down there to collect his thoughts. were feeling; they who had honored and lovAnd, truth to tell, they needed collecting ed, from the first, the man whom he had takand setting in order not a little. The memoen years to know and love? Could he not ries of eight years were all dancing through think of those yet dearer to him who was his brain, and carrying him about whither gone, who bore his name and shared his blood, they would; while beneath them all, his heart and were now without a husband or a father? was throbbing with the dull sense of a loss Then the grief which he began to share with that could never be made up to him. The others became gentle and holy, and he rose up rays of the evening sun came solemnly thro' once more, and walked up the steps to the althe painted windows above his head and fell tar; and while the tears flowed freely down in gorgeous colors on the opposite wall, and his cheeks, knelt down humbly and hopefully, the perfect stillness soothed his spirit by little to lay down there his share of a burden which and little. And he turned to the pulpit, and had proved itself too heavy for him to bear looked at it, and then leaning forward, with in his own strength. his head on his hands, groaned aloud,-" If he could only have seen the Doctor again for one five minutes, to have told him all that was in his heart, what he owed to him, how he loved and reverenced him, and would, by God's help, follow his steps in life and death, he could have borne it all without a murmur. But that he should have gone away forever without knowing it all, was too much to bear" But I am sure he does not know it all?"-the thought made him start-" May he not even now be near me, in this very chapel If he be, am I sorrowing as he would have me sorrow-as I shall wish to have sorrowed when I shall meet him again?" He raised himself up and looked round; and after a minute rose and walked humbly down to the lowest bench, and sat down on the very seat which he had occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And then the old memories rushed back again, but softened and subdued, and soothing him as he let himself be carried away by them. And he looked up at the great painted window above the altar, and remembered how, when a little boy, he used to try not to look through it at the elm-trees and the rocks, before the painted glass came -and the subscription for the painted glass, and the letter he wrote home for money to give to it. And there, down below, was the very name of the boy who sat on his right hand on that first day, scratched rudely in the oak panelling. Here let us leave him-where better could we leave him, than at the altar, before which he had first caught a glimpse of the glory of his birth-right, and felt the drawing of the bond which links all living souls together in one brotherhood-at the grave beneath the altar of him who had opened his eyes to see that glory, and softened his heart till it could feel that bond. And let us not be hard on him, if at that moment his soul is fuller of the tomb and him who lies there, than of the altar and Him of whom it speaks. Such stages have to be gone through, I believe, by all young and brave souls, who must win their way through hero-worship, to the worship of Him who is the King and Lord of heroes. For it is only through our mysterious human relationships, through the love and tenderness and purity of mothers, and sisters, and wives,-through the strength and courage and wisdom of fathers, and brothers and teachers, that we can come to the knowledge of Him, in whom alone the love, and the tenderness, and the purity, and the strength, and the courage, and the wisdom of all these dwell forever and ever in perfect fulness. 'Tis hardly in a body's power, To keep at times from being sour.-BURNS. HE who hunts two hares, leaves one and And then came the thought of all his old loses the other. For the Schoolmaster. Welcome to Winter. BY ANNIE ELIZABETH. Welcome, welcome, winter king, See the little snow-flakes now, Though the birds have left our home Nature, wake a joyous sound, FORCE OF SEA-BREAKERS.-Near Plymouth, England, during a heavy gale, a block of limestone weighing seven tons was driven by the waves to the distance of one hundred and fifty feet; and blocks of from two to three tons' weight were washed about like pebbles. It has been found, by experiments made on the coast of Scotland, that the waves from the Atlantic fall with twice the force of those from the North Sea. An Atlantic breaker will frequently fall with a force of three tons to the square foot, or twenty-seven tons to the square yard.-Mass. Teacher. "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves that we are underlings." SHAKSPEARE. For the Schoolmaster. Winter Evenings. WINTER is upon us again, but who would know it except for the time-honored Almanac ? Thus far he has exhibited his most agreeable qualities, but it is not his nature to be always mild and attractive. His harsh voice will soon echo from behind the distant hills, and ere we are aware of it he will shake his hoary locks in our faces. But despite his fury and bluster and days of cold and storm, pleasures follow in his wake for those who have hearts to enjoy them. If he crowns the hills with silvery flakes, myriads of happy youth on gaily painted sleds will slide down their soft sides to the vales below; if he congeals, by the breath of his nostrils, the sparkling water, merriment and delight will swiftly glide over the smooth surface, making even this a tributary to enjoyment. In whatever form he may seek to insinuate his presence, and by his grim visage and rough stentorious voice, strive to dispel pleasure, it is all in vain, for buoyancy of youth will overcome all the obstacles thrown in its way, and from the very obstacles themselves extract delight. But the enjoyment of winter consists not wholly of out-door scenes. When the sun has run his daily course and sunk beneath the western horizon,-when darkness has enveloped the earth like a cloud, and the moon and stars, like faithful sentinels have taken their posts for the night,-then it is that the greatest blessings of winter are made manifest in the long hours of candle-light, which in themselves are a storehouse of treasures. To be sure they are closely packed together and hidden from the casual observer, and it is not every one who finds the tiny key to unlock them, but they are none the less treasures for all that. Within these little spaces of time, are hid for those who will look for them with the telescope of perseverence, the mysteries of science, the pleasures of travel, the unravelled thread of history away back to the days of Egyptian greatness, the beauties of art, and the delights of poetry. At first all these wonders may not be seen, but intense desire will soon reveal the focus of observation, when they will stand forth in majesty and beauty. The wonders of this telescope in my without the least danger. In token of gratitude for this valuable invention, the coal owners presented Sir Humphrey with a service of plate valued at £2,000 sterling. Numerous instances of a like character might be mentioned in illustration of this subject, but enough has been said to illustrate the value of these passing moments, which however, are valuable only to those who are willing to improve them. crease with the earnestness of purpose while each moment reveals something new to attract the attention and fill the mind with wonder. It is, in fact, a complete panorama within itself, each moment revealing some new picture, and each succeeding one surpassing, in magnificence, all that have preceded it. But one of the pleasant features of this instrument is, it is free to all. The old and the young, the rich and the poor, the merchant and the mechanic, the statesman and the scholar, can all avail themselves of its advantages. But the question arises, who are willing to take this telescope and view these passing wonders, and with the tiny key which attaches thereto unlock these Fret not Thyself Because of Evil-Doers." golden treasures? Or, in other words, dropping the figure, these long winter evenings afford an excellent opportunity for mental improvement. There are, in this community, hundreds of mechanics and clerks, and men of business, who can spend one, two, three, or four hours each evening in reading and study, and by a systematic course, obtain an amount of knowledge far beyond their highest anticipations at the com mencement. Providence, January 1, 1858. For the Schoolmaster. I. D., JR. Our subject naturally divides itself into two heads. I. Fretting is infurious to the health of the Teacher. II. Fretting is detrimental to the mental and moral condition of the Teacher. We remark, in the first place, that fretting is injurious to the health and physical wellThe talisman of success is patient, persever-being of the teacher. It absorbs the adipose ing effort, and history abounds in examples tissue, produces painful contortions of the of men, who, from the humblest walks of muscles, consumes the vital principle of the life, have risen by it to positions of high em- blood, produces a dangerous overflowing of inence. Roger Sherman, a name indissolubly the bile, consumes the marrow of youth, connected with the political history of Amer-weakens the strength of manhood, sharpens ica, who was one of the committee of five to prepare the Declaration of Independence, spent the earlier years of his life in the occupation of a shoemaker, and when, in 1743, he went from Masschusetts to New Milford, Connecticut, to enter into business with his the nose, compresses the lips, wrinkles the face, disarranges the stomach, puts acid into all the secretions, shrivels and parches the skin, causes the hair to take on a premature and indescribable gray, and injects the whole nervous system with inextinguishable and ever brother as a country merchant, "he perform-consuming fire. Fretting has an injurious effect upon the mind of the teacher. It unfits him for the exSir Humphrey Davy, the inventor of the ercise either of mercy or justice, puts a radisafety lamp, was of humble origin, and yet cal sign over his freest thought and transforms by dint of his own energy of purpose, be- that thought into an inextricable surd. The came one of the brightest ornaments in the windows of his soul become sadly broken and scientific world. Previous to the invention stained, and its doors are never fully open nor of this safety lamp explosions of fire damp, securely closed, but ever badly ajar, so that or inflammable gas, in the extensive coal- he not only sees "men as trees walking," but fields of England, were of frequent occur- troops of merry, joyous, laughing, confiding rence, oftentimes destroying hundreds of children, as culprits in disguise, upon whom lives. With this lamp the miner may work the omnipresent rod, though indiscriminately in the very midst of this much dreaded ene-applied, could not fall amiss. O, ye fretful, complaining, scolding teachers of children! Have ye dreamed dreams and seen visions? Ye have, and this is the interpretation thereof. The seven thin and shrivelled ears that ye saw are the ears of innocent children, blasted by your fretted breath, and the seven lean and ill-favored kine which ye saw are the seven evil fiery spirits that have taken possession of your souls to devour and consume them. Repent, and do the first works of charity and love, else shall an "east wind," more terrible than that of Egypt, blight you forever. In conclusion, we remark, Firstly, "Fret not thyself." Secondly, Fret not thy pupils. Finally, Bear with me this friendly admonition,-FRET NOT. For the Schoolmaster. BY ANNIE. н. List to the notes of the closing year, For the Schoolmaster. THE following account of "A Turkish School," is from an English Magazine published in 1835, and may prove amusing and interesting to some of your readers and pupils, who, no doubt, will smile at the strange manners, modes and practices prevalent in the Turkish school-room. Yours, MANFRED. EXTRACT FROM A LETTER FROM BUJUKDERE. "I was walking with two friends along the main-street of one of the adjacent villages, when a confused murmur of voices drew my attention. I found that it proceeded from a mosque immediately at our elbow, and upon inquiring whether we might venture to go in, -for no stranger is allowed to enter a Turkish mosque without express permission,-I was answered in the affirmative. Following the direction from which the noise proceeded, we mounted a flight of steps, and instead of finding ourselves launched into a place of worship, we discovered that we had made our way into a roomy apartment, containing tables near the walls, at which a number of Turkish boys of all ages were posted with book in hand. It proved to be the village school; and scarcely a better one, as I afterwards learnt, is to be met with in Constantinople itself. In one corner of the apartment we observed the master reclining upon a decent carpet; he was an old mullah, or ecclesiastic, with an enormous turban on his head, a long gray beard, yellow kaftan, and legs crossed in the true Turkish fashion. His left hand held a long pipe, which he was smoking, and his right lay quietly in his lap, except that it was now and then agitated by a fidgety motion, as if something particular affected its owner. Are shattered and sundered by the close of the and in front of him a ponderous tome, probaOn his left we remarked a bag of tobacco, It seems but a breath since we hailed thy birth, The glad angel Hope, as it then flitted by, Whispering, in words so soft and so clear, to fear. But the spell is now broken, the vision has sped, Loved voices are hushed, and bright forms have fied; Now, hopes that we cherished and ties that were dear, year. But if by thy annual mission thou'st taught but naught, Thy work is accomplished. We bid thee, in haste, bly the Koran: while an enormously long bamboo cane, which reached from the floor to the ceiling, stood against the wall on his right hand. He saluted us on our entrance with a nod of the head, but did not rise from his seat, or suffer his mouth to part for an instant from his pipe. The score and a half of |