ered a motionless body. Brooke picks him up. "Stand back, give him ho is he?" says Brooke. , it's Brown; he's a new boy; I know him,” Cast, coming up. ell, he is a plucky youngster, and will make a " says Brooke. five o'clock strikes. "No side," is called, and st day of the school-house match is over. DR. ARNOLD OF RUGBY O then came the great event in Tom's as in very Rugby's life of the day—the first sermon Dr. Arnold. e worthy pens than mine have described that -the oak pulpit standing out by itself above hool-seats; the tall gaunt form, the kindling e voice-now soft as the low notes of a flute, ear and stirring as the call of the light-infangle-of him who stood there, Sunday after y, witnessing and pleading for his Lord, the of Righteousness and Love and Glory, with spirit he was filled, and in whose power he the long lines of young faces, rising tier above own the whole length of the chapel, from the boy's who had just left his mother, to the man's who was going out into the great world ng in his strength. as a great and solemn sight, and never more a at this time of the year, when the only lights rest of the chapel, deepening into darkigh gallery behind the organ. vas it, after all, which seized and held hundred boys, dragging them out of illing or unwilling, for twenty minutes, afternoon? True, there always were up and down the School who, in heart ere worthy to hear and able to carry epest and wisest words spoken. But ninority always—generally a very small small a one as to be counted on the finand. What was it that moved and held E the three hundred reckless boys, who octor with all our hearts, and very n heaven or earth; who thought more " in School than of the Church of ut the traditions of Rugby, and the of boys in our daily life, above the = enter into half that we heard; we owledge of our own hearts, or the one another; and little enough of the d love needed to that end. But we ys in their better moods will listen— oo, for the matter of that—to a man to be, with all his heart and soul and ng against whatever was mean and nrighteous in our little world. It was lear voice of one giving advice and erene heights to those who were strugng below, but the warm, living voice fighting for us, and by our sides, and › help him, and ourselves, and one an ily, and little by little, but surely and whole, was brought home to the young ~J བབ་བབ་་ ld, ordained from of old, where there are no tors, but the youngest must take his side, and cakes are life and death. d he who roused this consciousness in them, d them, at the same time, by every word he in the pulpit, and by his whole daily life, how battle was to be fought; and stood there before their fellow-soldier, and the Captain of their DO W mat The true sort of Captain, too, for a boy's = one who had no misgivings, and who gave no tain word of command; and, let who would or make truce, would fight the fight out-so boy felt-to the last gasp, and the last drop pod. Other sides of his character might take of him and influence boys here and there; but s this thoroughness and undaunted courage more than anything else, won his way to the s of the great mass of those on whom he left ark, and made them believe first in him, and in his Master. CTOR MARIE HUGO MARIE HUGO, French statesman, novelist,. porn at Besaçon, in 1802; died at Paris, e received a classic education, and at the enty brought out a volume of poems called Ballads." After the revolution of July, lay, "Marion de Lorme," that had been suppressed by the censor, was produced a great success. A number of other ieces were written by him, "The King mself" being suppressed by the governgained admittance to the Academy, and a peer by Louis Philipp. On the coup 851 he was exiled. His best novels are ables," of most dramatic and absorbing The History of a Crime," "The Toilers of nd "Nôtre Dame de Paris." The last t accurate idea of the social and religious of Paris in the Middle Ages. Both the and most striking characters are somber. note is found everywhere. ¦ COURT OF MIRACLES (From "Nôtre Dame ") irt of Miracles was indeed only a potbut a pot-house of thieves, as red with ch wine. acle presented to his eyes when his tatat last landed him at his journey's end fitted to bring him back to poetry, even poetry of hell. It was more than ever and brutal reality of the tavern. If we ing in the fifteenth century, we should cone, and lapping with its flames the rusty legs |