SICKNESS.

HAT a sad picture we have this month,” probably some of my young readers will say, as they look at the engraving on the previous page, and so it is. I do not know who can look at it without being moved with sorrowful emotion. To see the aged sick is a painful sight, but it is yet more painful to see the young smitten down with sickness-and it is a young person who is sick in the picture. It is also very evident that her sickness is serious-more, dangerous. She lies in a critical state; that is indicated by the solemn stillness that surrounds her bed, and the wistful, anxious looks of the bystanders. With some the sight of this will awaken memories that will add to their feeling of sorrow. "How like it is," some will perhaps say, "to when my dear sister was taken from us !”

But why remind young persons that they may sicken and die? Well, we do it, first, for their own sake. Death is an event that we should prepare for; the Bible tells us that the dead are blessed; but they are the dead that die in the Lord. If we are Christians, to die will be gain to us, for thereby we shall go to Christ, which, St. Paul says, "is far better." I have seen young Christians die, and though they found it a solemn thing to pass into another world, and a grief to be separated from friends they dearly loved, yet they were not afraid to die. They felt they were safe in the arms of Jesus as they passed through the dark valley.

As the young then may die, Oh, let all my dear readers give their hearts to the Saviour, that they may be prepared for the solemn event! And we say this for the sake of others as well as themselves. A good man once said that the love he had for his mother would constrain him to be a Christian if nothing else did. Now this, within proper limits, is a very commendable feeling. When death takes young people from their family and friends, the sorrow felt at their loss is greatly assuaged by the thought that they are gone to the heavenly home, where those left behind will some day again meet them. But if they have no such hope of the departed how sad, how very sad, will their hearts be. Let all our young readers resolve that they will so live for Christ that if they should be called away in early years, surviving friends shall have the comfort of knowing that they are gone home to Heaven.

By TOM BROWN, Author of " A Year at School," &c., &c.

XVI. THE DUNCE WHO BECAME A GREAT ORATOR.

N the year 1759 there lived in Dorset Street, Dublin, a very talented family. The father was the author of a number of works upon education, and besides having established a great reputation as an actor, he was celebrated as a lecturer on the English language and as a teacher of elocution. The mother was a lady of great ability and refinement, and before her marriage had written several very successful novels and dramas. They had at the time of which we write two sons; the elder named Charles, and the younger Richard, or as he was oftener called-Dick, the latter being about

seven.

As the father had an enthusiastic regard for the benefits of education, it is no wonder that he early secured for his children the best obtainable. Accordingly, we find them sent to the best school in Dublin, kept by Mr. Samuel Whyte, who about thirty years later had another illustrious pupil in the person of Thomas Moore, the poet.

The boys only stayed under Mr. Whyte's tuition for about a year; but that was quite long enough to show a decided difference between them. The elder, Charles, made very satisfactory progress in his lessons, and greatly pleased his father, whose favourite he was. But Dick, though a bright, merry-faced lad, got on so badly that his despairing teacher and his disappointed parent concurred in pronouncing him " a most impenetrable dunce."

In 1762, the family having removed to England, Dick was sent to the public school at Harrow. His brother Charles, as the more promising youth, was kept at home to profit by the special training his father was so well able to give. At Harrow our dunce had every opportunity of distinguishing himself and of obtaining a sound English and classical education. The head-master was Dr. Sumner, a man of the greatest refinement and taste, and among the undermasters was Dr. Parr, almost equally distinguished for his scholarship.

But in spite of these advantages and the healthy emulative spirit which usually pervades a large school, Richard was remarkable only as a very idle, careless lad. In the ordinary business of the school he was behind most of the lads of his age. Some of the boys were very clever writers of Greek, Latin, and English verses; but though Dick read poetry extensively for amusement, he never distinguished himself in its composition. But though he was such an idle young scapegrace, he was an almost universal favourite with masters and boys, though the latter sometimes teased him by calling him "the Player Boy."

He is described as a handsome youth, with eyes of a peculiar brilliancy and attraction, and with a geniality and frankness which won all hearts. The teachers, while they blamed his indolence, were fully impressed with the idea that he was no ordinary boy, and an occasional gleam of cleverness made them all the more anxious that he should give his mind to study.

It must not be supposed, however, that our friend Dick was always being punished. Idle as he was, he never got flogged for his neglect. He always contrived to exert himself as much as would just keep him out of disgrace. He was mischievous enough; but his pranks partook more of the character of practical jokes; and if he transgressed rules, it was in such a frank, open way that the masters could hardly find in their hearts to punish him severely.

Like many another roguish schoolboy, he thought it a good joke to steal fruit from the neighbouring gardens. It was a fact known alike to masters and pupils that Dick had an apple-loft in which he kept enough fruit stored to disorder the stomachs of a dozen hearty boys. This store was replenished on every favourable opportunity by a number of smaller boys whom Dick had enlisted into the service. The under-master, Dr. Parr, one day gave our dunce a lecture about his apple stealing, and announced his determination to set a watch, and trace the theft, if possible, to him. Dick was not at all alarmed at the threat, but in a goodhumoured way defied the teacher to catch him or his accomplices in the act: and the good old doctor years afterwards confessed that he "never could bring the charge home to bim."

While Dick was at Harrow his father had become so embarrassed as to be obliged to out-run his creditors. He accordingly went to France with the rest of his family-namely, his wife, his son Charles, and two daughters. There, in September, 1766, at the town of Blois, he had the great misfortune to lose his wife, a lady in whom rare intellectual powers were joined to the most eminent domestic virtue.

Three years later, the affairs of the family had been so far arranged as to allow of their return to England, and so they took up their abode in London, and summoned Dick from school. He was now eighteen years of age; but instead of sending him to college, or deciding on some profession for him, his father kept him and Charles at home. They received instruction in Latin and mathematics from a visiting tutor, and lessons in English grammar and oratory from their father. But, however much the favourite, Charles, may have profited by his advantages, Dick paid no more attention to his lessons at home than he had done at school.

Indeed, notwithstanding his many advantages, our dunce never became a really correct English scholar. Even after he had become famous, we are told his spelling was faulty in almost every second line he wrote. Among other blunders, it was not unusual to find think for thing; and wether, were, and wich for whether, where, and which; while single letters nearly always had to do duty for double

ones. His acquaintance with the classics was by no means deep, though he made the most of it, and contrived to impress many people with an idea of his erudition. His knowledge of arithmetic, too, was somewhat scanty. It is said that in his early parliamentary career, when he wished to criticise Pitt's financial schemes, he felt it necessary to prepare himself "by three weeks' hard study of arithmetic."

Though our dunce had not distinguished himself in any way at Harrow, and though, so far as the masters knew, he had not tried his skill in verse, he was enticed to court the Muses in private, by the example of a fellow pupil named Halhed. This youth was a far better scholar than Dick, and had established quite a reputation in the school as a writer of poetry. On leaving Harrow, Halhed went to Oxford, and while there he and Dick kept up a correspondence. They also entered into a literary partnership, and, besides a number of other projected works which were never completed, they wrote together a translation from the Greek of Aristænetus. This was published in 1771; but instead of realizing its authors' golden anticipations, it proved a great failure.

We now come to a period in our dunce's history which might furnish romance enough for half a dozen novels. The family had now removed to Bath, the fashionable spa so much frequented by royalty. Dick's father had as yet proposed no plan for his second son's future. Possibly he did not think such a dunce worth troubling about. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that with nothing particular to do, Dick fell in love. Especially is it not surprising when we consider the many attractions of his fair enchantress.

This was Miss Linley, a very celebrated singer. She was only sixteen, but had already turned the heads of half the beaus of Bath by her beauty and her accomplishments. Hers was no mere provincial popularity either. She and her father were engaged for most of the fashionable concerts in London or the provinces.

Dick's family and the Linleys early became acquainted, and of course the two brothers fell in love with Miss Linley. Dick, however, fearing lest the open suit of a ne'er-do-well like himself would be frowned on by the ambitious father, carefully concealed his passion. So well did he succeed in this, that his brother Charles confided to him the secret of his affection, evidently expecting Dick's sympathy and assistance. To make the confusion more confounding, our dunce's bosom friend, Halhed, having heard Miss Linley sing at Oxford, also fell in love with her, and wrote to Dick to tell him he was coming to Bath, and to ask him to arrange for an interview with the lady.

But, notwithstanding all this romance, it was well known that Miss Linley was already betrothed by her father to Mr. Long, a wealthy old gentleman in Wiltshire. She had resolved, however, to break the bonds which bound her to a lover old enough to be her father. She secretly informed Mr. Long that she could never be happy as his wife, but that she dared not disobey her father's wishes. On hearing this, the good old gentleman broke off the engagement,