by either of you, so as to break one of the windows?"

At mention of the word marble one of the young friends" hung his head and seemed embarrassed; but he soon recovered himself. As before, there was no answer.

"Come, I entreat you to speak, if any one of you is conscious of having done it," said the master kindly: "it is as bad to conceal some faults as to commit them. 'Dare to be true.' Mansfield, did you throw a marble through this gentleman's window? Alfred, did you?-William ?-Henry?— Albert?-Frank?"

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No, sir indeed, sir, we know nothing about it."

"Bowler?-Nelson?-Hart?-Powel ?

Robinson ?"

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No, sir," said they all once more.

They all deny it, sir," said the master, turning to the visitor.

In

"I am sorry for it," replied Mr. Martin, looking grave and sad; " for by the testimony of a credible witness whom I have this morning seen, and whom I will produce, if necessary, one of these boys is guilty. the meantime," he continued, slowly putting his hand into his pocket, "this may assist us in discovering the culprit, as it is so peculiarly marked. It was found this morning on my parlour carpet, and one of the panes of glass has a hole which answers exactly to its size."

Thus saying, Mr. Martin exhibited, in the broad palm of his hand, a marble.

Very startling was the effect produced by this exhibition.

"It is Robinson's alley-his shooter, his blood alley," whispered the boys from top to bottom of the class. As to Robinson, he instinctively put his hand into his pocket, and drew out, tremblingly, a handful of marbles. His alley was not there. He coloured; then his colour went; then tears gushed from his eyes. "Is it yours? or was it yours?" asked the master, sternly.

"Yes, sir." Yes, Robinson did not deny it; nor could he deny that he played with it, and won with it, the day before, and that he refused to sell or barter it away. It was in his pocket-that was clear-when the boys started on their evening excursion.

In truth, and in short, Robinson was guilty. The temptation to mischief had been too strong to be resisted-that is, he had not resisted it. The fun of slily breaking a window, joined with the idea that it would be a just punishment for the man who would not illuminate, had reached to his fingers' ends; and in the excitement of his mischievous propensity, he had forgotten all about his "little fairy," and had sent it on the evil mission, believing it to be a marble of common stone or clay.

Poor Robinson-foolish Robinson-truth

less Robinson! How he trembled, and stammered, and coloured, and became pale and coloured again, when the mischief and the guilt were brought home to him.

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But, sir, sir-0 sir, it was not a lie—it was not indeed, sir, if you will but think, sir. I said, sir-I said I did not throw the marble, and indeed I did not, sir."

"No? How then?"

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'I-I shot it off, sir."

"It is a mean, disgraceful, and sinful equivocation, boy," said the master angrily; "an equivocation of which I could have hoped not one of my pupils would have been guilty." Robinson hung his head.

"You may well be ashamed of yourself, sir," continued the tutor; "and-"

"Allow me to interpose," said the goodhumoured gentleman; "for perhaps I am in fault. I should have shown the marble at once, and then the temptation would not have been placed before this lad. The windowbreaking I forgive, with all my heart; though I hope our young friends will not henceforth think it necessary or expedient to break the windows of all who do not act precisely according to their own views of what may be right and proper. Were we all to do so," continued the friendly visitor, with a smile, "there would not be many sound panes of glass in Great Britain, I fear. Well, that is settled, and we will shake hands over the