She looked up. In his hand was the prize a richly-chased golden pencil-case, suspended to a chain of the same material. The sound, the sight recalled her bewildered faculties, and ere she had reached the desk, she had formed a resolution, which, however, it required all her native strength of soul to put in practice.

"Miss Carlton, the prize is yours!" and the teacher leaned forward to throw the chain around her neck. The child drew back.

"No, sir," she said, in a low, but firm and distinct voice, looking up bravely in his face, "I did not write the story you have read."

"Not write it!" exclaimed Mr. Wentworth. "Why, then, does it bear your name? Am I to understand, Miss Carlton, that you have asked another's assistance in your composition, and that you now repent the deception?"

Poor Harriet! this was too much. Her dark eyes flashed, and then filled with tears; her lips trembled with emotion, and she paused a moment, as if disdaining a reply to this anmerited charge.

A slight and sneering laugh from the beauty aroused her, and she answered, respectfully, but firmly,

"The story I did write was in that envelope yesterday. Some one has changed it without my knowledge. It was not so good as the one you have read, so I must not take the prize."

There was a murmur of applause through the assembly, and the teacher bent upon the blushing girl a look of approval, which amply repaid her for all the embarrassment she had suffered.

momentary excitement, Harriet took her seat, called up. The portly

Aunt Eloise took advantage of the to steal, unobserved, from the room. and Miss Angelina Burton was next matron leaned smilingly forward; and the graceful little beauty already affecting the airs of a fine lady, sauntered

up to the desk, and languidly reached out her hand for the prize.

"I cannot say much for your taste in selection, Miss Burton. I do not admire your author's sentiments. The next time you wish to make an extract, you must allow me to choose for you. There are better things than this, even in the trashy magazine from which you have copied it."

And with this severe, but justly-merited reproof of the imposition that had been practised, he handed the young lady, not the prize, which she expected, but the manuscript essay on Friendship, which she had copied, word for word, from an old magazine.

The portly lady turned very red, and the beauty, bursting into tears of anger and mortification, returned to her seat discomfited.

"Miss Catharine Sumner," resumed the teacher, with a benign smile, to a plain, yet noble-looking girl, who came forward as he spoke, "I believe there can be no mistake about your little effusion. I feel great pleasure in presenting you the reward due, not only to your mental cultivation, but to the goodness of your heart. What! do you, too,

hesitate?"

"Will you be kind enough, sir," said the generous Kate, taking a paper from her pocket, "to read Harriet's story before you decide? I asked her for a copy several days ago,

and here it is."

"You shall read it to the audience yourself, my dear; I am sure they will listen patiently to so kind a pleader in her friend's behalf."

The listeners looked pleased and eager to hear the story; Kate Sumner, with a modest self-possession, which well became her, and with her fine eyes lighting up as she read, did fu justice to the pretty and touching story, of which Harriet had been so cruelly robbed.

"It is well worth reading," said Mr. Wentworth. when she

had finished; "your friend has won the prize, my dear young lady; and, as she owes it to your generosity, you shall have the pleasure of bestowing it yourself."

Kate's face glowed with emotion as she hung the chain around Harriet's neck, and Harriet could not restrain her tears, while she whispered,

“I will take it, not as a prize, but as a gift from Kate."

you, dear

"And now, Miss Sumner," said Mr. Wentworth in conclusion, "let me beg your acceptance of these volumes, as a token of your teacher's respect and esteem;" and, presenting her a beautiful bound edition of Milton's works, he bowed his adieu to the retiring audience.

*

*

*

*

*

"Will you lend me your prize pencil, this morning, Harriet?" said Mrs. Carlton, the next day. She was dressed for a walk, and Harriet wondered why she should want the pencil to take out with her; but she immediately unclasped the chain from her neck, and handed it to her mother, without asking any questions.

She was rewarded, at dinner, by finding it lying at the side of her plate, with the single word "TRUTH" engraved upon its seal.

LESSON CXLIV.

Speech of Catiline before the Roman Senate, on hearing his Sentence of Banishment. CROLY'S CATILINE.

BANISHED from Rome! what's banished, but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe?

"Tried and convicted traitor!". - Who

says

Who 'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?

this?

Banished? - I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain!
I held some slack allegiance till this hour

But now, my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords;
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities.

But here I stand and scoff you:- here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face.

trial!

Your consul 's merciful. For this all thanks.
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.
"Traitor!" I go-but I return. This
Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,

Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel.
This day 's the birth of sorrows!

This hour's work

Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, my lords, For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods,

Shapes hot from Tartarus!

all shames and crimes;

Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones:
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.

LESSON CXLV.

Dialogue between HAMLET and HORATIO.-SHAKSPEARE.

Horatio. HAIL to your lordship!

Hamlet. I am glad to see you well:

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham. I would not hear your enemies say so;
Nor shall
you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know, you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ?

We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio; the funeral baked meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father methinks I see my father
Hor. Where, my lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man; - take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king, your father.
Ham. The king, my father!

Hor. Season your admiration for a while,

With an attent ear; till I may deliver

This marvel to you.

Ham. For Heaven's love let me hear.

'Hor. Two nights together had those gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,

Been thus encountered: a figure, like your father,
Armed at point exactly, cap-à-piè,

Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walked