She guessed his meaning, and followed him along a narrow path which led down to a hollow, where, entirely shut in by rocks and trees, was a little cottage. The door stood open, and an old woman, wearing a high-crowned black hat, and busily knitting stockings, sat by the fireplace. A neat little girl peeled potatoes at the table, and Sylvine remembered to have seen her face at church. This the child seemed to remember also, for she curtsied, and said something to the amazed old lady; and at a request from the man left the room. By and bye she returned, bearing on her arms a coarse, but tidy, striped woollen frock, a black wide-awake, a calico pinafore, and a pair of thick leather shoes with wooden soles. She then beckoned Sylvine aside with a half-timid, halfproud manner (for evidently the little maiden was pleased to lend the young lady her clothes), and in a kind of back kitchen assisted her to dress. Sylvine felt in her pockets, and was quite sorry to find only twopence halfpenny, a silver thimble, and kaleidoscope to give; but the child seemed ready to cry with joy, and curtsied over and over again. The man now came forward, and Sylvine having almost forgotten her past discomforts, walked quite gaily by his side towards Bretteyn, and chatted to him all the way, not ten words of which could he understand, though he now and then nodded kindly, as if to say he guessed it.

BUT I think it was a long time before Sylvine forgot that storm amid the mountains. In the first place, a bad cold, which she caught from exposure to the rain, kept her in bed two days-a thing she particularly disliked; and then she had many reproofs from Mademoiselle Allemeyer for going out without her permission, thus occasioning great anxiety to all, especially to her parents. But it was Mr. Roberts who, more than all, impressed this event on her mind. Of course, Jenny must needs repeat all her dear Sylvine's adventures to her father, for she never felt satisfied in her mind till she heard his opinion on everything; and you may be sure that he by no means approved of little girls running off to all sorts of wild places without permission, just because they happened to be ill-tempered at a contradiction. So on the first evening of Sylvine's recovery from her cold, he called Jenny to him, and said

"Run and call Sylvine hither. I am going to tell you a story in the twilight."

Sylvine had not yet seen Mr. Roberts since her un

D

lucky freak, and she now peeped in with a shy smile and a blush.

"Oh, Mr. Roberts," she exclaimed, dismally, "you are not going to scold me, are you? I know I was naughty; but I shan't do so again."

"I never scold, so come in and hear my story," said Mr. Roberts; and at that she uttered an exclamation of joy, and seated herself by Jenny's side to listen. The two children entwined arms, and one of Jenny's little hands rested on her father's knee. Mr. Roberts smiled on his hearers, and then began

THE STORY OF THE WONDERFUL PILL.

"When I was a boy I went to a large school in the suburbs of London. It was a private establishment, and the gentleman who kept it was a philosopher-in other words, a lover of wisdom. He was certainly the wisest man I ever knew, and I only wonder I did not become a philosopher too; but you must take into consideration that at that time I loved my cricket-bat and marbles a great deal better than all the wisdom in the world. Indeed, if I really confess the truth, I believe I thought that all learning was great nonsense, and that it would be just as well if every schoolbook-English, French, Latin-no matter whatwere thrown into the river Thames. But I confess this with great repentance and humility now, for I have lived long enough to know better. And so will

hundreds and thousands of schoolboys and schoolgirls too, after me.

"Well, Professor Markham, in spite of our idleness and stupidity, and countless other troublesome qualities, never gave up the hope of making us wise in time, and worked at his task with more patience and earnestness and zeal than I can by any words express to you. Ah! if we boys had worked but one quarter so hard ourselves, what shining men his pupils would have become! Your father, Jenny, might perhaps have been by this time Lord Chancellor, or a great writer like Lord Macaulay, or a speaker in Parliament like Lord Palmerston

"Hush, papa, and go on," exclaimed Jenny. "I do believe you are quite as clever as the Lord Chancellor; and as to Lord Macaulay and Lord Palmerston, I'm sure they could not tell a story half so well as you do.'

"Well, my dears," resumed Mr. Roberts, "let me only warn you both. Should it ever be your lot to dwell near a lover of wisdom, catch every word that falls from his mouth, and treasure it up like a gold guinea. Oh! the guineas we might get! But now

to

go on. It was Professor Markham's custom to give a prize every Christmas to the boy who could solve a riddle which he usually composed himself, and a fortnight's time was given for the solution. This riddle was copied out on a little slip of paper for each boy,

and we were all forbidden, on our honour, to consult with each other about it. I will say that during the years I was in the school, I never knew this rule to be broken. Idle and mischievous we all were, but

three

we despised a lie. On the day of the breaking-up, the solutions of the riddle were all sent in to the master sealed, and at the distribution of the other prizes, a prize was awarded to the one who had guessed aright, both riddle and answer being read aloud.

Of course great interest always prevailed on this occasion, and we trembled as the papers were brought forth, each hoping to hear his own read out. But the last half year that ever I spent at Harley School, an extraordinary excitement prevailed on the subject, for the riddle had been an unusually difficult one, and it was the universal opinion that nobody would get the prize." "Oh, dear father, I'm sure you got it; now didn't you?" asked little Jenny, impatiently.

"Wait and see," said Mr. Roberts, "how do you know anybody got it? I assure you the riddle was a most perplexing one."

"What was it? that I am sure we may know," exclaimed Sylvine, coaxingly.

"Wait and see," again said Mr. Roberts, and went on with his story.

"Nobody can tell how we boys toiled and puzzled our brains that fortnight; the worst of it was, you see, that we had to keep all our guesses and puzzlings