leave him, and that he must now listen to that interior voice which rises from the depths of the conscience when all is silent within us; that voice which inflames our hearts as the voice of the Lord made the hearts of the disciples to burn within them as they journeyed on their way to Emmaus; and those children who have made their first communion have ever after, if they like to listen, a friend in their hearts, who will tell them all they need to know.

SOME PRANKS, AND WHAT CAME OF THEM.

BEYOND a doubt, if there was a man really disliked by us boys, it was old Farmer Blenkinsop, He was considered fair game by "every man Jack of us, as we used to say. Many were our lame attempts to make fun out of his name. 99.66 "Blinkers," "Blank, "Blanket,' "Bring-the-Soap," with a dozen similiar attempts at wit were common, but our favorite nickname was, "Jonny Short." This was the most popular vith us, I fear, because it teased the old man most. For be it known he was wonderfully sensitive on the score of his stature, which indeed was not quite that of a giant.

he

Now if I were asked why we had such a dislike to Farmer Blenkinsop, I should be bound to confess that I hardly know. The only "old score" we had against him was the result of his persistent refusal was one of the church-wardens to let us use the church yard as a play-ground. We boys considered it a distinct invasion of our "rights" when we were turned out and threatened with "the law. Had not our elder brothers always played there? Nay, had not we heard our fathers many a time relate the pranks they had played in that same church yard? And indeed there were ample evidences of the gambols. of many generations of boys-the broken-down fence wall, the numerous cracked, chipped, and fallen tombstones, the well-nigh branchless old yew, the one-hinged gate, the names scored on the very vestry door. Why then should Jonny Short set himself so determinedly against us? Was he better than his fathers?

So we reasoned.

But one day matters came to a crisis. There was a funeral, and, as usual with us at such times and with a large school now of boys of my own, I write it with deep humiliation and sorrow we held high jinks in the church yard, for we were a rough set in our village, as I have said before.

We had with difficulty been kept in moderately good order during the service, and the moment the venerable old clergyman turned his back the fun, as we thought it, began. One of our number hid the old sexton's tools, whilst another commenced kicking down the earth lying around. In vain did the poor old rheumatic grave-digger protest.

What lengths we should have got to I don't know, but before we were aware a whip swished smartly amongst our legs, then again and again. We speedily recognized our old enemy Blenkinsop standing over us, and the look on his face-anger, sorrow, astonishment, disgust, were all plainly pictured there I shall not easily forget.

"Stand still every one of you!" he shouted, in tones which we dared not disobey

For a moment we stood eyeing his formidable whip, and wondering what would follow.

6.

Boys," he said at last, "you are a set of mean and cowardly rascals! I can't call you anything else. This beats all even you have ever done. But this is the last time!"

Whereupon he gave his opinion of our conduct in no measured terms, and finished by taking down our names.

We were astonished to see how calm he was, though, and we began to think things would blow over quite easily. But we little knew our

man.

When I reached home that night I received from my father the severest flogging I had ever experienced, and I found afterwards that every boy had been similarly punished. It came out later on that old Blenkinsop had threatened to bring before the magistrates every boy whose parents would not undertake to give him a sound whipping at home. Besides, the farmer was right-it was our last game in the church yard, for within a fortnight of that afternoon a new fence of very high iron palisading was placed round the burial ground, with a gate tỏ correspond. We were fairly "done" as we confessed.

But "like true Britons"- this is how we expressed it-we speedily began to concoct schemes of "revenge ;" and we were not long in finding an opportunity of bringing about our object. Prowling about the lanes one Saturday afternoon we observed in one of Blenkinsop's fiields a very large heap or rough stack of straw, the result of several days steam thrashing. These steam thrashing machines were then quite a novelty. This straw was the entire produce of the farmer's very large oat crop, and as it could be used as fodder it was of course very valuable. But this we did not know.

"Well, not to make too long a story, some young scamp proposed that we should return at dusk and set fire to the straw.

"It's only straw, you know, and worth nothing - its not like burning the corn," he explained, as he saw the blank look on our faces! "Yes, of course it's no harm," said another boy; "it'll only tease old Short. Won't it be a blaze!

So we allowed ourselves to be persuaded, although we did not half like the look of the plan. But we were all moral cowards. We could not stand being laughed at by our leaders.

Accordingly, just at dusk we were all at the stack (which, by the way, stood quite away from any house) and after a few preliminaries, a match was struck, and the straw fired by Carr, the boy who had been the proposer of the scheme.

As soon as the straw was fairly alight, we all scampered across the field to hide in an old bramble and furze-covered ditch, from whence we could see the fire without being ourselves seen. It was a capital hidingplace. But we began to be somewhat alarmed when we saw what rapid progress was made by the fire. At the most we had expected to see but a "jolly good blaze." But it was far more than that. The whole rick was one mass of flame, which leapt up into the air, and lit

up the whole country-side. Ghastly indeed looked our faces as we peeped through the bushes.

"I say, lads, I don't at all like this," I was begining to say, when we heard the sound of hoofs, and presently the figure of a man appeared in front of the burning mass, and we could see that it was the farmer himself who had arrived. Soon the whole village apparently was on the spot, the villagers having at first imagined it was the farmstead itself which was burning, because the rick was in a direct line with the farm buildings as seen from the village green, so ne mile and a half off. Within half an hour there had collected on the spot several hundreds of people, the farm-servants from one or two neighboring parishes having likewise rushed breathless to the spot.

We were now thoroughly frightened and looked at each other in blank despair.

"There will be a dreadful row about this," said one.
"Row!" echoed a second; "you may say that!"

"We may expect the lock-up, at the very least," chimed in a third.

"Ay, old Short will be sure to have 'law on us,'" replied two or three together.

"Well, I can't stand it any longer," shouted the lad Carr, who had all along been the ringleader; "I must go amongst the lot and see what they're doing."

And without another word he scrambled out of the ditch, and ran across the field to the concourse about the fire. One by one the rest of us followed, afraid to remain where we were, and yet dreading the reception we might meet with. But nobody noticed the advent of a boy or two.

Just then we all became aware of a shouting and a tremendous rattling of rapidly approaching wheels. We were puzzled to account for it, and peered through the darkness to discern, if possible, what it all meant.

"It's the fire-engine from Reekham!" exclaimed a man, after listening a moment or two. The fire-brigade there, seeing that some great conflagration was going on out in the country, had lost not a moment in getting to the spot, being guided, of course, by the light.

But they were too late, the fire had almost done its work. Nevertheless a hundred people rushed into the lane to meet the firemen. The horses came up at a fine canter, and covered with foam. We set up a cheer, which was returned lusterly by the men on the engine

But at this moment there was a piercing scream, and the vehicle was observed to give a lurch.

"Somebody run over!" a dozen shouted.

And so it was. On the muddy road, apparently lifeless, lay none other than Carr, our leader. Reckless as he always was, he had attempted to jump on the shaft of the engine, and slipping had fallen under the wheels, which had passed over both legs just below the knee. Need I say we boys were horror-struck! Poor Carr was soon lifted

up.

"I did it," he groaned, and became insensible.

"What's that?" asked Farmer Blenkinsop, as he came up.

"He says he did it," I replied; "but he didn't do it all; we were all here."

Could we believe our eyes! The old farmer pressed his silk pocket handkerchief to his eyes, and actually cried like a child. How we had misjudged this kindly old man all this time!

"Bring my gig here at once, and carry the lad to my house," he shouted after a moment or two.

"Your house?" asked several of the by-standers in astonishment. "My house," was all the reply he vouchsafed as he sprang into his gig, and touching gently with his whip his famous trotting mare, disappeared in the direction of Reekham.

The boy was carried to the farmer's parlor and laid upon the sofa, and we boys dispersed to our homes in a fearful state of anxiety and remorse. In less than an hour the farmer returned from the town with Dr. W., the most skilful surgeon in our district.

"A bad case," he said; "a very bad case, but with care he may pull through, as he seems to have a robust constitution."

The rest may be told in but few words. Thanks to the unwearied attention of good old Blenkinsop and his wife-they had no children of their own Carr recovered. But it was plain he would never be a farm laborer like his father.

Suffice it

No words can describe the kindness of the old farmer. to say that, after having nursed the boy who had done his best to injure him, the kindly old man paid all expenses, which indeed Carr's father could not have paid himself. Later on Blenkinsop and the old clergyman put their heads together, and the result is that Carr is now a teacher, zealous and highly respected.

Thus did Farmer Blenkinsop "heap coals of fire on our heads."

UTILIZING THE DARLINGS.

He

But

A FARMER named August Pirch, who lives near Garvanzo, is the happy possessor of a dozen fine, healthy children. These youngsters grow fast, eat three or four hearty meals a day, and the way they wear out clothes is enough to make a woolen factory think a cyclone had struck it. Mr. Pirch has been in hot water with his little fishes for years, and was about to give up in despair when a bright idea struck him. had a tract of land that could not be used for the want of water. how to irrigate the land without spending a large sum of money was a mystery. A ditch would cost thousands of dollars, but corner lots had not been so plentiful in the Pirch family as the happy father could have wished, and his bank-book simply showed a balance of a few hundreds instead of thousands. He figured out the cost of a well, and found that he could stand a sixty-foot well, a cheap pump, and one of those great big family swings which are noticed at pleasure gardens and German picnic grounds. The well was bored, the pump was set up, and the

swing was put in working order. "Here, you little rascals," said the elder Pirch to his little fishes, "come out here and get in the swing; I am going to give you something to play with." In five minutes the children were flying back and forth through the air. The pump worked up and down, making a merry tune, and a fourteen-inch stream of water flowed from the well. The children don't know that they are working, as the swing is some distance from the well, and is connected by an iron rod, which works the pump as the swing vibrates back and forth. Mr. Pirch is positive that the youngsters will pump enough water during the day to irrigate a large tract of land.

A BOY MARTYR.

It was in the winter of 1867 that some Russian soldiers met a little shepherd boy, busy gathering sticks in the woods. They surrounded him and asked him what religion he was of. "I am a Catholic," answered the boy without the least sign of fear; whereupon the soldiers insisted upon his making the sign of the Cross in the Russian way, in which the right shoulder is touched before the left, while Catholics touch the left shoulder first, and this way of making the Cross, is one of the visible signs which distinguish Catholics from Greek schismatics. The little shepherd refused most decidedly to do as the soldiers told him, and crossed himself in the Catholic way.

The commanding officer enraged at this, threatened to have the boy shut if he persisted in his refusal, but the terrible threat did not have the desired effect upon the child. Finding he would not obey, they tied the poor child to a tree and the soldiers got ready to fire.

Pale, but filled with supernatural courage, the young hero looked calmly at his tormentors and offered up a short prayer.

The officer now told the soldiers to discontinue their threats, and approaching the boy, he said with a sneer, "You dog! you are not worth our powder and shot," and ordering the boy to be untied, he continued, "we will hang you, unless you obey the Emperor and the Russian Church."

The wild soldiers now dragged the boy to an ash tree and put a rope round his neck, and again and again they ordered him to make the sign of the Cross in the Russian way.

The young martyr did not utter a word, only shaking his head to show he did not intend to obey; upon which a soldier climbed up the tree, fastened a rope to a bough, while two others raised the boy waiting for the orders to let him drop.

But now the officer bethought himself of something else and shouted: "The little imp is not worth the cost of a rope! it will be better to drown him."

Again the boy was untied and dragged to the nearest pond covered with ice and the officer, who determined to prolong the death agony of the child, ordered his men to make a hole in the ice and let him into the water up to his neck.

When this was done, the officer, leaving the soldiers on the bank,