they have
traded only in marbles and apples. Hereafter, some will send vessels to
England for broadcloths and all sorts of manufactured wares, and to the
West Indies for sugar, and rum, and coffee. Others will stand behind
counters, and measure tape, and ribbon, and cambric, by the yard. Others
will upheave the blacksmith's hammer, or drive the plane over the
carpenter's bench, or take the lapstone and the awl, and learn the trade
of shoe-making. Many will follow the sea, and become bold, rough
sea-captains.

This class of boys, in short, must supply the world with those active,
skilful hands, and clear, sagacious heads, without which the affairs of
life would be thrown into confusion, by the theories of studious and
visionary men. Wherefore, teach them their multiplication table, good
Master Cheever, and whip them well, when they deserve it; for much of the
country's welfare depends on these boys!

But, alas! while we have been thinking of other matters, Master Cheever's
watchful eye has caught two boys at play. Now we shall see awful times!
The two malefactors are summoned before the master's chair, wherein he
sits, with the terror of a judge upon his brow. Our old chair is now a
judgment-seat. Ah, Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch-rod!
Short is the trial--the sentence quickly passed--and now the judge prepares
to execute it in person. Thwack! thwack! thwack! In those good old times,
a school-master's blows were well laid on.

See! the birch-rod has lost several of its twigs, and will hardly serve
for another execution. Mercy on us, what a bellowing the urchins make! My
ears are almost deafened, though the clamor comes through the far length
of a hundred and fifty years. There, go to your seats, poor boys; and do
not cry, sweet little Alice; for they have ceased to feel the pain, a long
time since.

And thus the forenoon passes away. Now it is twelve o'clock. The master
looks at his great silver watch, and then with tiresome deliberation, puts
the ferule into his desk. The little multitude await the word of
dismissal, with almost irrepressible impatience.

"You are dismissed," says Master Cheever.

The boys retire, treading softly until they have passed the threshold;
but, fairly out of the school-room, lo, what a joyous shout!--what a
scampering and trampling of feet!--what a sense of recovered freedom,
expressed in the merry uproar of all their voices! What care they for the
ferule and birch-