ttle lad to whom he
has lent a little money.

It is true he charges at the rate of a penny a week for every sixpence
lent out; but many a fellow to whom tarts are a present necessity is
happy to pay this interest for the loan. These transactions are kept
secret. Mr. Bullock, in rather a whining tone, when he takes Master
Green aside and does the requisite business for him, says, "You know
you'll go and talk about it everywhere. I don't want to lend you the
money, I want to buy something with it. It's only to oblige you; and yet
I am sure you will go and make fun of me." Whereon, of course, Green,
eager for the money, vows solemnly that the transaction shall be
confidential, and only speaks when the payment of the interest becomes
oppressive.

Thus it is that Mr. Bullock's practices are at all known. At a very
early period, indeed, his commercial genius manifested itself: and
by happy speculations in toffey; by composing a sweet drink made of
stick-liquorice and brown sugar, and selling it at a profit to the
younger children; by purchasing a series of novels, which he let out
at an adequate remuneration; by doing boys' exercises for a penny,
and other processes, he showed the bent of his mind. At the end of the
half-year he always went home richer than when he arrived at school,
with his purse full of money.

Nobody knows how much he brought: but the accounts are fabulous. Twenty,
thirty, fifty--it is impossible to say how many sovereigns. When joked
about his money, he turns pale and swears he has not a shilling: whereas
he has had a banker's account ever since he was thirteen.

At the present moment he is employed in negotiating the sale of a knife
with Master Green, and is pointing out to the latter the beauty of the
six blades, and that he need not pay until after the holidays.

Champion Major has sworn that he will break every bone in his skin the
next time that he cheats a little boy, and is bearing down upon him.
Let us come away. It is frightful to see that big peaceful clever coward
moaning under well-deserved blows and whining for mercy.

DUVAL THE PIRATE.

JONES MINIMUS passes, laden with tarts.

Duval.--Hullo! you small boy with the tarts! Come here, sir. Jones
Minimus.--Please, Duval, they ain't mine. Duval.--Oh, you abominable
young story-teller. [He confiscates the goods.

I think I like young Duval's mode of levying contributions better than
Bullock's. The former's, at least, has the mer