"that God is a hearer of prayer. How soon has he answered my poor little petitions! See! See! Mr. Barry-read for yourself! I'm too happy to tell you! I shall stay, I shall stay! No leaving school for me! No instrumentmaker! Uncle says I shall stay! Oh! happy, happy Carl Adler! Thanks, thanks!"

Barry could not but be affected by the joy of his little pupil. Boys began to gather around. There are few secrets at their age. By general request, Mr. Barry read aloud parts of the letters, by which it appeared that a grand-aunt of Carl's, in Darmstadt, had authorized Mr. Schneckenburg, who was her son, to expend as much money as should be necessary for the education of Carl and his sisters, Charlotte and Ursula.

It is hard to say whether the little commonwealth of the Oaks was most gratified by the approaching fireworks, or by the news about Carl. While he was only "the Dutchman," he was a butt for every one's arrow; as soon as he became "poor little Carl," he grew into

a favourite. There was much shaking of hands and congratulation; and, what is worthy of notice, none of the boys made any allusion to their plans for his relief, which were now happily frustrated.

Some of the duller and coarser boys thought it odd that Carl should frequently be caught with wet eyes, at a time when he had so much cause for joy. They perhaps learned to understand the thing better when they grew older. As for Carl himself, I will not undertake to explain his emotions. It is an effect of early grief to give the appearance of greater age; and Carl had, at fifteen, gone through more vicissitudes, seen more countries, and learnt more lessons, than many a man of forty. Well was it for him that he had a gay, elastic temper; and better still, that he had been bred in the right ways of the Lord. See him, in the dusk of the evening, in his chamber. The shadow is deepened by the enormous oak which extends its branches almost to the eaves of the house. The vociferous sports of the school below form

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a contrast to the silence of the chamber. Carl sits in the window, with his arms folded, while next his bosom he has two miniatures, and a letter in one of his hands. What can he be thinking about, if not the blessed days when he sat with his father and mother under the lime-trees of his native town? As he mused, he grew sadder and sadder, till at length he was about to become quite womanish in his tenderness, when, all of a sudden, a smart blow on the shoulder woke him from his revery, and he looked up, to discover that Barry stood over him.

"Come, come, Adler," said the usher; "this will never do! There is such a thing as pondering too much on one's troubles."

"Troubles, Mr. Barry! I was thinking of my joys; how happy I was at home-and how happy I ought to be now!"

"Yes, you have much to be thankful foryouth, health, strength, friends, and new prospects of education. Don't mope, don't give way to melancholy."

"You mistake me, Mr. Barry. I never was more brimful of joy in my life, and yet I can't help thinking and thinking. And I have just been saying to myself, Oh, how happy would father and mother be, if they could see me so well off!"

"They are happier where they are, Carl. Heaven is better than earth. Who knows but that they are even now informed of your condition, and rejoicing in it? At any rate, they are, we trust, in Christ's presence, where there is fulness of joy; and the thought of this ought to lead you to follow their steps. But come out, and take some exercise: you can never fulfil your duty in life without strength of body; and you will never have strength of body without exercise."

Down they went, for a long walk upon the high-road, where there were houses in abundance, and carriages and horsemen and pedestrians enough to break the thread of Carl's pensive thoughts. This was exactly what Barry intended; and he further promoted the same

end, by a constant series of questions about things the most remote from his companion's present affairs. Some people have yet to learn that this is the true method of quieting disturbed minds and diverting sickly thoughts.

But just then, a more violent interruption took place. A horse suddenly appeared, running away with a carriage, in which two ladies were seated. The driver had been thrown out; and the vehicle was rapidly approaching a rude bridge, over which it seemed impossible that they should pass unharmed. Barry disengaged himself instantly from Carl, and rushed towards the frantic animal. What he apprehended really occurred; the passage was too narrow, the carriage was overturned into the dry bed of a little summer-brook, and the horse, entangled in the harness, lay struggling and kicking, in the most alarming manner, while the women, really in the greatest peril, were shrieking, and unable to extricate themselves. Barry threw himself on the floundering horse, and, holding his head close to the ground, pre

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