toil and pains he had taken to bring
the school into its present condition; and how much it grieved him to
find that, with all the pains he had taken, there was so much to correct
and arrange. The Doctor, however, knew the world, and that in no human
institutions can perfection be attained--nor can it be expected that
they should be without faults; but he knew also that by care and
attention those faults may be decreased, if not altogether got rid of,
and he did not despair.

Ernest, as I was saying, had never before this thoroughly understood the
Doctor. Now he did, and he found him a kind, sympathising, affectionate
friend. Indeed, in my opinion, unless a man is this to his pupils, he
is not fit to be a schoolmaster. Neither can a parent, unless he is his
children's friend, expect to command their love and obedience.

Ernest now discovered the Doctor to be very like his own father in many
respects, and therefore placed unbounded confidence in him. He gladly
opened his own heart to him, and with the frankness of a warm-hearted
boy, told him all his thoughts, and hopes, and wishes.

The Doctor had always liked Ernest, and felt great satisfaction at
watching his rapid progress; but now he discovered qualities and talents
which he had not before surmised, and from that time he placed the most
perfect confidence in him, and the interest Ernest excited was as great
as if he had been his own son.

At the end of the year prizes were given, and, in spite of his accident,
Ernest carried off several. One of the performances which invariably
created the greatest interest was the speech-making. The speech given
to Ernest's class was that part of Julius Caesar where Cassius
endeavours to persuade Brutus to join the conspiracy against Caesar.
Buttar also spoke very well, and took the part of Brutus. All the
neighbourhood were collected on the occasion, and a sort of stage was
erected at one end of the play-room, which was ornamented with boughs of
holly and other evergreens, and flags and coloured lamps.

Altogether, it was a very pretty spectacle. Instead of painted scenes,
a bower of evergreens and flags was erected on the stage, in which the
boys performed their parts.

Some of the bigger boys gained a good deal of applause, for the Doctor
taught his pupils not only Greek and Latin, but what he looked on as of
not less consequence--to write and speak their own language correctly
and fluently.

Many who could scar