and
please take that book away with you."

"I had rather leave it," said Mr. Mortimer. "You must learn to act for
yourself and by yourself. You do not expect to be always a boy, and if
these weaknesses are not checked now, you will grow up a weak man, sadly
dependent upon external influences and circumstances. Put the book out
of your way by all means, but let it be your own act. And now I will
leave you to do your work, for I see you have done very little, and
that little very ill."

When his father had left the room, Louis put the book on a shelf, and,
turning his back to it, set himself to work with earnest determination.
He rewrote what he had done so badly, took great pains with the new
edition, and had the satisfaction of receiving his father's approval
of his work in the evening. After lunch his disagreeable Euclid was
completed, and the map finished, and Louis refrained steadily from
looking at the book for the rest of the day; nor did he, though sorely
inclined, open it the next day until he could do so with a safe
conscience.

For the remainder of the holidays Louis adhered to his resolution;
but I do not mean to say he trusted on his own resolution: that he
had found, by painful experience, to be a broken reed. In dependence
upon an Almighty helper, he steadily endeavored from day to day to
perform what was required of him in his station and circumstances,
and found his reward in peace of mind and consciousness of growing
in grace.

CHAPTER XIII.

It seems, by common consent, established among school-boys, that school
and school-masters are necessary evils, only endurable because incurable,
and that, as a matter of course, the return to school must be looked on
as a species of martyrdom, the victims of which are unanimously opposed
to the usual persuasives that school-days are the happiest, and that
they will wish themselves back again before they have left it long.
We will not attempt to account for this perversity of opinion in the
minds of the individuals alluded to, nor have we any intention of
instituting an inquiry as to the probability of the origin of this
repugnance to scholastic life being in the natural opposition of man's
mind to discipline or order, and the tendency therein to dislike all
that is especially arranged and placed before him plainly for his
benefit; but I am sure that most of those among my readers who either
have been, or are school-boys at this moment, will agree wit