up and down the long room, as though I half expected to find
myself sharing its solitude with some black bogey of a nursemaid's
tale. The next instant I laughed at my own foolishness, and rising to
my feet began to move about, for the room was cold.

The place had not been swept since the boys' departure. The floor was
littered with torn paper, fragments of broken slates, and other rubbish
which had been thrown about in the process of packing up. Some
light-hearted youth, who had come into possession of a piece of chalk,
had covered the blackboard with his scrawlings. Wandering aimlessly up
the room, I came to a halt; then, hardly conscious of what I was doing,
I opened one of the desks, and glanced down carelessly at its interior.

What good reason I afterwards had to remember that apparently
purposeless' action! The books and other boyish possessions had been
removed, and nothing remained but a mass of waste paper and other odds
and ends, such as lay strewn about on the floor. I stirred this up
with my hand. As I did so, my fingers came in contact with something
hard, and I drew forth a small, oblong metal box, made, if I remember
rightly, of pewter.

The desk had been occupied by a boy named Talbot, who was leaving these
holidays, and so had taken his books with him. The object which I held
in my hand, and which he had evidently overlooked, was a tinder-box, or
rather a box containing tinder, flint, and steel, and little chips of
wood tipped with sulphur. The so-called "lucifer" matches, I may
remark, did not come into use until some years later. I stood for a
moment undecided what to do with my find. Left in the desk it was
certain to be discovered and carried off, either by one of the servants
or the charwoman who cleaned the room. Talbot had a younger brother
who would be returning after Christmas. I might restore the box to
him; and with this intention I slipped it into my pocket.

I was up early enough on the following morning, devoured my breakfast
in the kitchen by the light of a solitary candle, and then said a hasty
good-bye to Dr. Bagley, who had just come down, and who, after sternly
expressing a hope that I should amend my ways next term, thawed
sufficiently to wish me a merry Christmas and send his compliments to
my friends at home. Sparrow was to drive me in the pony-chaise as far
as Round Green. We started off, with the single trunk which composed
my luggage on the seat in front; and