thers, Eliza, and I, will be away for three days, and
during that time you shall have nothing but bread and water, unless you
ask your uncle's forgiveness."

"But, papa, won't you let him have some cheese with his bread?"
whispered little Pauline.

"Yes, but not _broccio_."

"Ah do, papa, please let him have _broccio_ 'tis the nicest cheese in
Corsica!"

"That's the reason he does not deserve it," said his father, looking at
the boy with an anxious expression, as if he hoped to see some sign of
penitence on his face. But none such appearing, he proceeded toward the
carriage.

Joseph and Lucien took a kind leave of their brother, but Eliza seemed
unwilling and afraid to go near or look at him.

The three days passed on, heavily enough for poor Napoleon, who was in
disgrace, and living on bread, water, and cheese, which was not
_broccio_. At length the party returned, and little Panoria, who was
watching for her friend Eliza, came with them into the house.

"Good-morning, uncle," said Madame Bonaparte to the archdeacon, "how are
you? And where are Napoleon and Pauline?"

"Here I am, mamma," said the latter throwing her arms around her
mother's neck.

"And Napoleon?"

"He is here," said the canon.

"Has he confessed?" asked his father.

"No," replied the uncle. "I never before witnessed such obstinacy."

"What has he done?" asked his mother.

The canon, in reply, related the story of the fruit; but before he could
finish it, Panoria exclaimed--

"Of course, poor fellow, he would not confess what he never did!"

"And who did take the fruit?" asked the canon.

"I and Eliza," replied the little girl without hesitation.

There was a universal exclamation.

"My poor child," said the archdeacon, embracing Napoleon tenderly, "why
did you not undeceive us?"

"I suspected it was Eliza," replied Napoleon; "but I was not sure. At
all events, I would not have told, for Panoria's sake, who is not a
liar."

The reader may imagine how Napoleon was caressed and rewarded to make
him amends for the pain he had unjustly suffered. As to Eliza, she was
severely and rightly punished: first for her gluttony; and then for what
was much worse--her cowardice and deceit in allowing her innocent
brother to suffer for her fault.

WILBERFORCE AND CHALMERS.

I have seldom observed a more amusing and pleasing contrast between two
great men than between Wilberforce and Chalmers. Chalmers is stout and
erect, with a b