any of
such cheerless objects as the Dowbiggins. The remembrance of all the
sporting prizes he had won at the Count's hands, and the sight of the
Count cheering at the sports, came over his ingenuous heart and moved
him to the most unselfish act of his life. "Jock Howieson," said Speug,
with considerable dignity, "ye may go to Woody Island if ye like, but it
'ill be the dirtiest trick ye ever played, and I'll black both yir een
for ye on Monday. Have we ever had a match, cricket or football, the
last four years, and the Count hesna been there? Who got up the sports
and gave the prizes? Tell me that, Jock? Who stands ginger-beer at Lucky
MacWhae's, answer me that, Jock, ye meeserable wretch?" and then
clinching every argument on "Who paid for the broken glass? I'm doon
richt ashamed o' ye, Jock Howieson."

"Will ye go yourself, Speug?" demanded Jock, writhing under this torrent
of reproach. "I think I see ye writin' an essay on the history o' the
Romans, or sic like trash. Ye 'ill hunt us into Bulldog's class-room,
and then go off yirsel to shoot rabbits; but ye 'ill no' play ony tricks
on me, Peter McGuffie."

"I will go," said Speug, manfully, "though I'll no' promise to write."

"Say as sure's death," said Jock, knowing Speug's wiles.

"Sure as death," said Speug, and then the school knew, not only that he
would go, though he had to sit six hours instead of one, but also that
every self-respecting boy in the Seminary must also put in an appearance
at the Count's reception.

"Best thing you ever did, Speug," said Nestie on the way home, "since
you p--pulled me out of the Tay, and I should say that you have a good
chance of the prize. What the Count wants is ori--gin--ginality, and I
never heard a chap with so much original talk as you've got, Speug. Just
you put some of it down, like what you give to the P--pennies, and
you'll come out first, and it'll be the first prize you ever won."

"If there was a prize for impidence, and the entries were open to all
Scotland," said Speug, "ye would pass the post first and trottin'."

"HOW I SPENT MY SATURDAY,"

was what the school saw on the board when the Count removed the white
cloth, and then he gave a brief exposition of his desires.

"Have the goodness, if you please, to write, not what you ought, but
what you want. Were you at the cricket match, you will tell me of the
capture of the wickets; or you were in the country, I will hear of the
wood