e, and, with a bursting heart, and a face crimson
with confusion, he struggled out of the crowd and ran as fast as his
legs would take him to his own class-room.

But if he imagined in his misery that the whole school was going to
spend the entire day jeering at him, and him alone, he was greatly
mistaken, for once out of sight Stephen soon passed out of mind in
presence of the next elegant extract read out for the benefit of the
assembled audience. This was no other than Simon's "Love-Ballad."

Simon, it should be known, was one of the dullest boys in Saint
Dominic's, and it was a standing marvel how he ever came to be in the
Fifth, for he was both a dunce and an idiot. But he had one ambition
and one idea, which was that he could write poetry; and the following
touching ballad from his pen he offered to the _Dominican_, and the
_Dominican_ showed its appreciation of real talent by inserting it:--

"A Love-Ballad.

"I wish I was a buttercup,
Upon the mountain top,
That you might sweetly pick me up,
And sweetly let me drop.
I wish I was a little worm,
All rigling in the sun,
That I myself towards thee might turn
When thou along didst come.
Oh, I wish I was a doormat, sweet,
All prostrate on the floor,
If only thou wouldst wipe thy feet,
On me, what could I want more?"

["Rigling" is possibly "wriggling".]

Simon, who, with true poet's instinct, was standing among the crowd
listening to his own poem, was somewhat perplexed by the manner in which
his masterpiece was received. That every one was delighted there could
be no doubt. But he had an impression he had meant the ballad to be
pathetic. Saint Dominic's, however, had taken it up another way, and
appeared to regard it as facetious. At any rate his fame was made, and
looking as if a laurel wreath already encircled his brow, he modestly
retired, feeling no further interest, now his own piece was ended.

Oliver's poem on the Tadpoles, with its marvellous rhymes, fell
comparatively flat after this; and Bullinger's first chapter of the
History of Saint Dominic's failed to rivet the attention of the
audience, which, however, became suddenly and painfully absorbed in the
"Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse," from the pen of Wraysford. We must
inflict a few passages from this document on the reader, as the paper
was the cause of some trouble hereafter.

"Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse.

"Monday.--Up early and took a good breakfast