mediæval, English and foreign, ancient and modern, possible and impossible, in the most glorious confusion.

"Brutus killing Cæsar," cried one.

"Wellington and Blucher after Waterloo," urged another.

"Robin Hood and Friar Tuck,” shouted Billy Waters.

"What do you think of Cromwell cutting off Charles the First's head?" asked Norton, whose ideas of history were somewhat confused.

"I should like Achilles selling Hector's body to Priam," said Trevor, who was of a classical turn of mind.

"The Field of the Cloth of Gold," proposed Rivers.

"The Temple of Juggernaut," suggested Joyce.

"Gently, gently," said Dalison, "don't all speak together. We can have 'Brutus killing Cæsar,' no doubt; but the costumes would be all Roman togas, and that would n't look well. As for Wellington and Blucher,' we ought to get up the Field of Waterloo, with a lot of cannons and dead bodies, and horses, and all that."

"Well, if you come to that," said Heath, "how could you manage the Field of the Cloth of Gold? There ought to be no end of splendid tents, and that sort of thing."

"Or how," said Brackley, "could you manage the beheading Charles the First? There ought to be a great crowd of people about, and we haven't an axe among the properties, either."

"Well, then," said Dalison, "there is only Robin Hood and Friar Tuck,' is there?

"Or the Temple of Juggernaut,'" interposed Joyce.

"Oh! ay; the 'Temple of Juggernaut,'" repeated Dalison, "that would look well, I daresay; but how could we manage that?"

"We have a dress in the property-box that is just like the robe in which Juggernaut is represented as wearing in the Indian book," said Joyce.

"Oh! yes," said Billy Waters, "so there is; and the old throne, with a curtain thrown over it, would make a good seat for him."

"And one of the high stools would make a capital altar," said Heath.

"That will do famously," exclaimed several voices.

"Let us see the dress and the book, at all events," suggested Dalison.

The cloak, which was of a bright yellow material, ornamented fantastically with red and black ornaments, being the same in which one of the juvenile performers had last winter enacted the character of a

magician, was brought out and compared with the picture of Juggernaut. It was found to agree very fairly; and a head-dress was also extracted from the stores, which, though not very like that of the real Hindoo idol, was judged to serve the purpose sufficiently well. Roman togas and Turkish turbans, with a few emendations, made what was accounted a very suitable costume for the Brahmin priests; and now it only remained to arrange the stage and apportion the parts.

"Who'll be manager and scene-shifter?" asked Dalison.

"I, I, I!" exclaimed several of the boys together.

Very well, Rivers, you shall be stage-manager, and you, Joyce, shall be scene-shifter, and draw up and let down the curtain. Now, who's to be Juggernaut ?"

Billy Waters," shouted a chorus of voices.

Billy gracefully acknowledged the compliment, and, yielding to the general wish, assumed the robes of Juggernaut.

And now who's to be high priest?" inquired Dalison.

"I," and "I," and "I," "Heath," "Brackley," "Trevor," "you yourself, Dalison," responded a dozen boys at the same moment.

"No, no!" exclaimed a voice, "it ought to be Rajah Sahib; he knows all about it, and can tell us how it ought to be done."

"That is a capital idea," exclaimed Dalison; "where is Sahib? Go and fetch him, some one. He'll do excellently. It ought to be a little fellow, you see, because of course he ought to be smaller than Juggernaut. Dickinson, Ellis, and Webber shall be priests, and Sahib highpriest. Won't that do?"

A general shout of applause bore witness to the popular approval, and several of the bystanders commenced an immediate search after Arthur.

"I don't think he will do," said Trevor, addressing Dalison and Stapleton, in a low voice, "I advise you to choose some one else." "Certainly, if you wish it, Frank," said Stapleton, “I don't mind, I'm sure."

Dalison, however, took it differently.

"Won't do? why not?" he asked, in a tone which all around him could hear.

"I don't think he would like it," returned Trevor, in a more constrained manner.

"Why shouldn't he?" asked Dalison, "it will do him no harm, will it ?"

"I should think not, indeed," said one of the bystanders.

"If he refuses, it will only be because he's sulky," remarked another.

"I vote we make him do it, willy-nilly," cried a third. sulkiest little beast that ever came to Martin's Green."

"He is the

"Dalison," said Trevor, annoyed at these remarks, "I put it to you as a personal favour not to make Arthur Johnstone do this, if he does n't like it. I think it is a shame, and I must fairly say so."

This observation was not judicious.

"I don't see what business it is of yours," growled one or two. "I shall make it my business," retorted Frank, sharply.

"Oh! come," said Joyce, "we can't be dictated to in this way. I, for one, won't stand it, and if Stapleton does n't choose to act Juggernaut, I will. Oh! here's Sahib at last. Now then, you young beast, do you hear what you are to do? You are to put on that dress which you see there, and that turban, and stand in front of that stool, in the same attitude as the figure in this picture. If you refuse, or make any fuss, you will get as sound a walloping as ever you had in your life. Do you hear what I say?"

The boys in general, and Dalison and Joyce in particular, had been prepared for an outbreak of passion; but they had not anticipated such a transport of fury as this intimation called forth. The boy shook from head to foot as though seized with a violent fit of ague; and his face, instead of growing dark purple, as was usually the case when he was excited by anger, became perfectly livid, as he looked at the preparations for the tableaux. His struggles were so violent that two of the biggest boys were unable to hold him; and, escaping from their grasp, he rushed up for the second time to Frank Trevor, and clung with the energy of despair round his knees.

"Come, none of that, youngster," exclaimed Joyce, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. "Leave go there, or it will be the worse for you. We'll soon see who is master here! And as he spoke he stepped up to Arthur, with the evident intention of tearing him away from Trevor's knees, regardless of the expression of the latter's face, which intimated a strong disposition to resist his interference.

"Joyce," he exclaimed, as he approached, "I advise you to leave Johnstone alone. I don't want to quarrel with you; but I won't suffer this."

"Do you mean you will prevent me from taking him away?"

"Yes," rejoined Trevor, "touch him at your peril. Once and for all I won't see him bullied."

“Do I

"Bullied, Trevor?" said Dalison, coming forward as Joyce paused for a moment, embarrassed, as it appeared, by Frank's reply. understand you to call Joyce and me bullies?"

"I have still less wish to quarrel with you than with Joyce," returned Trevor, calmly; "we are old friends, though we have been cool of late, and I don't want to say anything offensive. I only ask you to leave Johnstone alone."

"You have not answered my question," replied Dalison, coldly; "do you retract the word 'bully,' as applied to Joyce and me?"

"No," retorted Trevor, haughtily; "I did not apply the word directly to you; but I think what you want to do to Johnstone is bullying, and I shall not retract my opinion."

"Then you will just take the consequences of your impertinence," said Dalison, coolly stripping off his coat, and approaching his adversary as he spoke. "Now, then, do you mean to stand up to me like a man, or am I to thrash you at my leisure?"

Trevor made no reply; but, disengaging himself from Arthur, he too took off his coat, and stepped out to meet his antagonist.

"No, no!" exclaimed Brackley, interposing; "don't you two fellows quarrel at all events, not to-day; just recollect that Monday is the only whole holiday for the rest of the half, and that we are to go down the river and have a jolly lark; and if you two fellows, the two head boys of the school, fight, Brickbats will be certain to forbid our going. I can't see that there is anything to fight about; but, anyhow, put it off till after Monday."

"Very well," said Dalison, as coolly as before, "we will put it off till Monday. Take away Juggernaut's robes and throne for the present. On Monday evening, in the long room, Trevor, we will settle this. Either you ask my pardon and cease to interfere between Johnstone and us, or you have as good a licking as I ever gave a fellow in my life."

"I have no objection to make," said Trevor, and, taking Arthur by the hand, he left the school-room.

(To be continued.)

THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FUTURE.

(AN ALLEGORY.)

BY STIRLING COYNE.

IN

N the olden days of the Earth, when the Gods loved to descend from Olympus and wander amongst the sons of men,-when every fountain boasted its Nymph, and every grove its Dryad,--there were born unto Time, by one of the Hours, three daughters, fair as the rosyfingered Aurora, and beautiful as the Paphian goddess. They were named The Past, The Present, and The Future. Their education was intrusted to an old female relative of Time, called Experience, and but that the natural froward disposition of the young ladies inclined them rather to mock at than benefit by the wise precepts of their venerable instructress, they might have become almost as accomplished and learned as any boarding-school miss of modern days.

One morning the softest that May ever gave birth to the sun sparkled with unusual brilliancy—a gentle breeze, laden with perfume from the adjacent meads, murmured through the dark green vine foliage that overhung the dwelling of the sisters, who gazed from their lattice upon the lovely valley, blue mountains, and clear streams that lay extended before them.

"What a delicious day for a ramble amongst those distant groves and meadows!" exclaimed The Future.

"Delightful!" echoed her two sisters.

Experience, who seldom lost sight of her pupils, shook her head and, casting a weather-wise glance upon the unclouded sky, dryly remarked that she had seen mornings of fairer promise closed by a wild and stormy evening. The sisters laughed, for they made it a point to laugh at everything Experience said.

"We had lovely weather yesterday," said The Past, "not a drop of rain fell during the day."

"And I'm certain," added The Future, "this day will prove as fine. Look at that glorious rainbow which spans the valley with its manytinted arch; Iris never hung out a scarf of brighter promise. Come come-let us away!"