is in the sure road to a bitter fate. His
heart will take on a hard, iron covering, that will flash out plenty of
fire in his after contact with the world, but it will never--never melt!

There are some tall trees, that overshadow an angle of the schoolhouse;
and the larger scholars play some very surprising gymnastic tricks upon
their lower limbs: one boy, for instance, will hang for an incredible
length of time by his feet with his head down; and when you tell Charlie
of it at night, with such additions as your boyish imagination can
contrive, the old nurse is shocked, and states very gravely that it is
dangerous, and that the blood all runs to the head, and sometimes bursts
out of the eyes and mouth. You look at that particular boy with
astonishment afterward, and expect to see him some day burst into
bleeding from the nose and ears, and flood the schoolroom benches.

In time however you get to performing some modest experiments yourself
upon the very lowest limbs, taking care to avoid the observation of the
larger boys, who else might laugh at you; you especially avoid the
notice of one stout fellow in pea-green breeches, who is a sort of
"bully" among the small boys, and who delights in kicking your marbles
about very accidentally. He has a fashion too of twisting his
handkerchief into what he calls a "snapper," with a knot at the end, and
cracking at you with it, very much to the irritation of your spirits and
of your legs.

Sometimes, when he has brought you to an angry burst of tears, he will
very graciously force upon you the handkerchief, and insist upon your
cracking him in return; which, as you know nothing about his effective
method of making the knot bite, is a very harmless proposal on his part.

But you have still stronger reason to remember that boy. There are
trees, as I said, near the school; and you get the reputation, after a
time, of a good climber. One day you are well in the tops of the trees,
and being dared by the boys below, you venture higher--higher than any
boy has ever gone before. You feel very proudly, but just then catch
sight of the sneering face of your old enemy of the snapper; and he
dares you to go upon a limb that he points out.

The rest say,--for you hear them plainly,--"It won't bear him." And
Frank, a great friend of yours, shouts loudly to you not to try.

"Pho," says your tormentor,--"the little coward!"

If you could whip him, you would go down the tree, and do it wi