Unpatronized, and therefore little known;
Wise for himself, and his few friends alone-
In him thy well-appointed proxy see,
Armed for a work too difficult for thee;
Prepared by taste, by learning, and true worth,
To form thy son, and strike his genius forth."

COWPER.

I can almost imagine that the poet who penned the above lines was acquainted with my instructor, and that he intended them for his picture. By his taste, learning, and worth, he was, indeed, qualified for the difficult task of forming the character of youth, and of calling forth their talent. But he was not always successful. Many a boy was placed under his care, while I was living beneath his roof, who proved deaf to his instructions, and hardened against his reproofs.

There were three in particular, who used to be called "the trio" by their companions, that caused our master much grief of heart. These were Limbert, Martin, and Jackson.

The trio all entered our school at one season, after the Midsummer vacation. They came from different parts of London, and, singular enough, were all the sons of widows. But, though strangers to each other on their arrival, they soon verified the old saying, that

"Birds of a feather
Flock together."

In a few days they exhibited their characters, by one of the most guilty actions a school boy can commit.

It was on a brilliant morning, in the month of August, that we assembled in our school-room, and Mr. White, having called over our names,

found the trio missing. As they slept in one room, "I presume they are not dressed," said our master, and ringing the bell, he bade a servant request their attendance. The servant went, and returned with the intelligence that they were not there, and that the housemaid had informed him, that they rose very early, and had told her, as they went out of the gate, that they were going out for a walk this fine morning.

"A walk this fine morning!" exclaimed Mr. White, as a shade of deep anxiety spread over his face, "a run, I fear ;" and taking his hat and walking-stick, instantly started off on the road to London.

This was something new to me and my schoolfellows, for we had been treated with such uniform kindness, that the thought of running away had never entered our heads. As soon as our master was gone, therefore, we hastened to the gate, and having watched him till he was out of sight, we wedged ourselves together in close circle to debate the question whether the trio had in reality absconded, or had, as they assured the servant, only "gone out for a walk this fine morning."

Perhaps the House of Commons, when debating on some grave question which concerns our country's weal, never exhibited more earnestness than we did on this occasion. The debate was even stormy. All, indeed, except myself, were speakers some taking one side of the question, and some the other. "I say they have run away," and, "I say they could never be so foolish," making up the sum total of the argument.

At length, taking advantage of a cessation in the din, I requested to speak a few words on the subject.

"Silence! the philosopher!" was immediately echoed around, and after a few moments spent in enjoining silence, it was obtained, and I commenced.

"It appears to me certain," said I, "that the trio "

As this was the first time the runaways had been called "the trio," I was here interrupted by loud acclamations of, "Well said, the trio! Well said, the trio! go on! the trio !"

"It appears to me certain," I resumed, "that the trio have in reality run away. How long is it, do you think, since you first commenced your debate?

"Can't tell," exclaimed several voices.

"Then I can," I replied with a look of triumph, "it is more than a full hour, and you will soon hear the breakfast bell."

"Oh, never mind breakfast, philosopher," said Charles Murphy: "to the question."

"Well, then," I continued, "I will proceed at once to the question. The trio must now have been out four hours, and I think you will all agree with me, that after so long a walk they must want their breakfast, and wanting it, would certainly have appeared before now in hopes of receiving it."

To most of my school-fellows this was conclusive reasoning, and it was hailed with a loud and long "bravo!" Some, however, still appeared incredulous, and I proposed to settle the discus

sion by a show of hands; the majority being the criterion that they were certainly run away.

The hands raised to settle the question were aș twelve to five, and it was now decided that such was the fact. But another question, equally interesting, was instantly mooted as to the why and wherefore they had taken such a step, and I was called upon for my opinion. Just at that moment, however, the breakfast bell rang, and the debate was consequently deferred.

I do not remember that breakfast was ever finished in so brief a period, or with so much advantage to Mr. White's larder, as on that eventful morning. All seemed to have taken Charles Murphy's advice, "not to mind the breakfast," and no sooner had we returned thanks than we repaired to our former position at the gate.

"Well, now, philosopher," said Timpson, "what is the reason why the trio have run away? But recollect that master is kind, and therefore that cannot be the reason.'

"You say right, Timpson," I replied, "master is kind; but then the trio have not been here long enough to be won by his kindness. You and I have, and I am sure that we should never think of causing him so much trouble, and, I may add, pain. Only think of his losing his breakfast through the misconduct of the trio."

"Oh, never mind the breakfast," said Charles Murphy, vehemently. "You a philosopher, and make so much ado about a breakfast! Again, I say, never mind the breakfast. We have lost it, and so have the trio themselves, and so we have all lost it together."

D

"I have heard," I rejoined, "that there is some comfort in not being alone in a misfortune, but I feel for our master. I will hope, however, he has had his breakfast, and proceed to the question. My opinion is, therefore, that the misconduct of the trio is owing to their being left without a father."

"A wise opinion that," said Herbert, with a sneer; "why should they act wrong any the more for being without a father? I should rather think that they would have been glad to have found one; for I have often heard my parents call our master a second parent."

Feeling my reputation at stake, I rejoined, as I assumed an air of consequence : "When I give an opinion I have my reasons for it. Our master has often said, that mothers spoil children, and you must all allow that he is wise. I maintain, therefore, that the trio have been spoiledthat they have all been allowed to do as they pleased, and if you do not hear Mr. White say so, I am willing to forfeit a handful of marbles."

The offer of such a forfeiture seemed to carry conviction along with it, and it was agreed by all that I was correct in my opinion.

Having thus settled this grave point, a general wish began to be expressed that our master would return. Not that we did not rejoice at being set free from lessons. We were right glad of this circumstance, but we could take no advantage of our liberty. Not a top was spun, not a wicket set up, and not a marble placed in the chalky circle. We lingered about the gate anxiously watching Mr. White's return.