over the large playground. In
one corner was the doctor, with twenty or thirty boys around him, and
in other directions, the different ushers hearing Catechisms and other
lessons. Some of the parties were very dull, for no effort was made by
the instructor to impart a real delight in the Word of God to his pupils;
and religion was made merely a matter of question and answer, to remain
engraved in such heartless form on the repugnant mind of the learner.
And, alas! how can it be otherwise, where the teacher himself does not
know that religion is a real and happy thing, and not to be learned as
we teach our boys the outlines of heathen mythology?

Sitting on the ground, lolling against one of the benches under a
tree, sat Hastings Meredith and Reginald and Louis Mortimer; and one
or two more were standing or sitting near; all of whom had just finished
answering all the questions in the Church Catechism to Mr. Danby, and
had said a Psalm.

Louis was sitting on the bench, looking flushed, thinking of holidays,
and, of course, of home,--home Sabbaths, those brightest days of home
life,--when Trevannion came up with his usual air of cool, easy
confidence. Trevannion was the most gentlemanly young man in the
school; he never was in a hurry; was particularly alive to any
thing "vulgar," or "snobbish," and would have thought it especially
unbecoming in him to exhibit the smallest degree of annoyance at any
untoward event. It took a good deal to put him out of countenance, and
he esteemed it rather plebeian to go his own errands, or, indeed, to
take any unnecessary trouble.

"Were you in Bristol this morning, Meredith?" he said.

"Yes, sure, your highness," replied Meredith, yawning.

"Tired apparently," said Trevannion ironically, glancing at the
recumbent attitude of the speaker.

"Worried to death with that old bore Danby, who's been going backwards
and forwards for the last hour, with 'What is your name?' and 'My good
child,' &c. I'm as tired as--as--oh help me for a simile! as a pair of
worn-out shoes."

"A poetical simile at last," remarked Reginald, laughing.

"You would have a nice walk," said Trevannion.

"Very! and a sermon gratis to boot," replied Meredith. "It would
have done you good, Trevannion, to have heard what shocking things
you have done in being so _very genteel_."

"What do you mean?" said Trevannion, coolly.

"Louis Mortimer was giving me a taste of his Methodistical mind on the
duties of cler