than never."

"You think better of that grammar class than you did five years ago, do
you?"

"I have thought better of it for a good while, and should like to join
it now if I had the opportunity. We were both very foolish then, as I
have found out to my sorrow."

"I have often thought of that time," said Charlie; "I think we were
rather too set in our opinions."

"Yes; and if the teacher had just given us what we deserved, perhaps I
should not now be obliged to study grammar," added Nat.

"I am glad to see you so willing to own up, only it is a little too late
to profit much by it. This 'after wit' is not the best kind."

"It is better than no wit at all," said Nat, rather amused at Charlie's
way of "probing an old sore."

"The fact is, we were too young and green then to appreciate the
teacher's reasons for wanting us to study grammar. He was right, and we
were wrong, and now I am obliged to learn what I might have acquired
then more readily."

"But we studied it, did we not?" inquired Charlie.

"Only to _recite_. We did not study it to _understand_. I knew little
more about grammar when I left off going to school than I do about Greek
or Hebrew. It is one thing to commit a lesson, and another to comprehend
it. I am determined to understand it now."

"How long have you been studying it?"

"A few weeks ago I commenced it in earnest. I looked at it occasionally
before."

[Illustration]

"Have you advanced so far as to know whether Sam Drake is a proper or
improper noun?" asked Charlie, in a jesting manner.

"Possibly," answered Nat, dryly. "By the way, I hear that Sam has
removed from town, and all the family."

"Yes, they have gone, and I have cried none yet, and hope I shall not.
Sam is a worse fellow now than he was when you left town."

"He is! He was bad enough then, and if he is much worse now, I pity the
people who are obliged to have him about."

"They told some hard stories about him last summer; if half of them are
true, he is a candidate for the state prison."

"What were the stories?" asked Nat, not having heard any thing in
particular about him since his return.

"Some people thought he robbed Mr. Parton's orchard, and stole Mrs.
Graves' pears and plums. He went off several times on Sunday and came
back intoxicated. In fact, almost every evil thing that has been done in
the night-time, for months past, has been laid to him. Perhaps he was
not guilty, but people seem to think there i