"Oh, up their backs, of course. Here, see this bone, I break it and here is a string that makes the fish move." "Oh, Ma.s.sa Bo, where you done learn all dis?"

"I heard the A cla.s.s saying their physiology, and I asked Mamma, and she said we had just such a cord in our backbone." Here Mamma came into the room. "Law bless us, Miss Allen dat chile ought never be whipped for learnin'. He knows lots more now than some men."

Mrs. Allen sat down and explained to the children the different parts of the fish.

This led to an interesting talk. Amy asked if sh.e.l.lfish were stupid, because people often say: "As dumb as a clam."

"Not all dear, there is the beautiful Nautilus; the little mariner and really our first navigator."

Then the mother told of the sea nettle, the razorfish, the cuttlefish, that throws a black fluid out of its body, which darkens the water, and when pursued by an enemy escapes by this means. It is a very useful fish; long ago the Romans used that black fluid for ink.

Bo was so interested, he forgot his trouble, and no one noticed it was past school time.

"I'se just glad," said Hetty; "you children come play dat funny song about de Hoo Doo man, and say dat piece what tells what de school bell talks when it rings."

"Really my son, I am sorry you missed school this morning. It will put another bad point on your next report." "Ma, dear, I'm tired of that old school; it's a girls' school, anyhow. I'm the only Catholic there, and every now and then some one says something ugly about my religion. Of course, I have to fight boys that do it, but I must bear it when girls tell me I adore idols. If you send me to St. Thomas' I'll study hard."

WHAT THE SCHOOL BELL SAYS.

It is wonderful what unlike things The school bell says to boys when it rings.

For instance the sluggard who drags along On his way to school, hears this sort of song:

Oh, suz hum!

Why did I come?

Study 'till four-- Books are a bore!

Oh, how I wish I could run off and fish!

See! there's the brook Here's line and hook.

Hurry up--eh?

What's that you say?

Oh--hum--ho!

Suppose I must go, Study 'till four, Books are a bore.

Then the boy who loves to be faithful and true, Who does what his parents think best he should do, Comes bravely along with satchel and book, The wind in his whistle, the sun in his look.

And these are the thoughts that well up like a song, As he hears the old bell with its faithful ding dong:

Cling, clang, cling-- I'm so glad I could sing!

Heaven so blue, Duty to do!

Birds in the air, Everything fair, Even a boy Finds study a joy!

When my work is done I'm ready for fun, Keener my play For tasks of the day, Cling clang, cling.

I' so glad I can sing.

These are the songs which the two boys heard, When the school bell was singing word for word.

Which do you think was the truer song?

Which do you hear as you're trudging along?

Don't be a laggard--far better I say!

To work while you work, and play when you play.

--_By J. Bucham_.

"Why so serious Amy," said her mother; "you look as if you were deeply reflecting."

I have just been thinking of those "wonders of the sea" you tell about.

"Ma, dear, how much you do know; you can tell something of every bird and beast and insect. I wonder if I ever shall know as much?"

"My child, you know much more of this delightful kind of study than I did at your age. Until you were four years old my information on such subjects was very limited."

"And why did you study, mother, dear?"

"I had a strong incentive; I studied because I loved you."

Bolax pressed close to his mother's side. "Oh, Ma, dear! I will study too because I love you."

When Mr. Allen returned in the evening, Bo went to the gate to meet him, and threw his arms around his father's neck, asking to be forgiven and promising to be a good boy in the future. Mr. Allen clasped the dear child to his heart wondering if he had made a mistake in his manner of chastising a boy with such a loving disposition.

That night the good mother told of Bo's desire to change schools.

"That's just what I intended proposing; I had a conversation with old Mathews, who has brought up seven sons. He thinks from what I told him of our son, a change would be just what he requires at present."

A few days after this, Mrs. Allen took Bo up to the College and begged the President to admit him.

"He is entirely below the age, Madame," remarked the President, "we have no pupils under twelve years of age;" however, he allowed himself to be persuaded and acceded to the lady's request on condition that the boy should have a special tutor, which would cost an extra fee.

To this Mrs. Allen gladly agreed, as the child wanted three months of being ten years old and a private teacher was just what he needed.

Bo was delighted to go up to St. Thomas', especially as it meant daily rides on the train.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE COAL MAN.

Whistling and with a roll of music under his arm, Bolax turned out of his way to go the woods. "It's Sat.u.r.day," thought he, "and Professor was pleased with my lesson, so I'll just take a holiday." As he was turning off the bridge he heard some one say: "Well, young man, where are you bound for?" Looking up he saw Mr. O'Donnel, the coal man. "Where are you taking such a big load?" said Bolax. "Oh, about three miles out on the White Road." "That's the most beautiful road in the country; please let me go with you."

"You seem to know a great deal about roads." "Oh, yes; I often take long rambles with Papa when he is at home; he is so fond of wild flowers. So is Mamma; she calls the woods 'G.o.d's own garden,' and while there is a wild flower to be had, from the arbutus and hepatica in early Spring to the golden rod in the autumn, we gather them for our little Chapel. My Papa knows the name of every flower and shrub and tree that grows in the United States, and never tires telling me about them."

"Well," said Mr. O'Donnel, "I'll let you come along with me if you can climb up; you're a mighty knowing sort of little chap, and I like to hear you talk."

The day was an ideal one. A clear sky, a bright October sun and a pleasant breeze all combined to make Bolax enjoy his drive, although one would suppose he felt anything but comfortable perched on the hard seat of a coal cart.

The road stretched out for nearly a mile, white as its name indicated, and as well cared for as if it were the driveway into a gentleman's private demesne. On each side, it was bordered by immense sycamore trees; their beautiful branches meeting overhead, and their smooth shining trunk resembling pillars in the aisle of some grand Cathedral.

"This," said Mr. O'Donnel, "reminds me of roads I saw in the North of France, only there you would be sure to see an altar or a cross erected by the pious people, many a time I saw men, women and children kneeling before these shrines." "Are you a Catholic?" asked Bolax. "Indeed, and I am, thank G.o.d. Are you?" said Mr. O'Donnel. "Of course, I am," answered Bolax, with a rising inflection as though he felt injured at anyone questioning his religious belief. "Can't you see in my face I'm a Catholic; you ought to hear me stand up for my religion. I knocked the stuffing out of Reddy Smith last week for saying the priest walked pigeon-toed." "Ha! Ha!" laughed Mr. O'Donnel, "more power to you, my little man, always stand up for your faith and respect the priests; there's nothing like keeping faithful to your religion; it will be a great comfort to you all through life. I remember what a comfort it was to me when I came near dying on the battlefield in South Africa." "Oh!"

exclaimed Bolax "you don't mean to say you were in Africa?"