you're
to make a noise in the world, Rupert!' said one. 'Here's parchment for
the poet,' said another. 'Rupert's last work in sheepskin covers,' said
a third. 'Give us a classical tune, Rupert,' said a fourth; and so on.
But Rupert seemed too mortified to speak; he changed color, bit his
lips, and finally burst into a passionate fit of crying, and left the
room. Then those who had joked him felt ashamed, and everybody began
to ask who had put the drum there. But no one knew, or if they did, the
unexpected sympathy awakened for the sensitive boy kept them silent.
Even the servants were called up and questioned, but no one could
give any idea where it came from. And, what was still more singular,
everybody declared that up to the moment it was produced, no one had
seen it hanging on the tree. What do I think? Well, I have my own
opinion. But no questions! Enough for you to know that Rupert did not
come down stairs again that night, and the party soon after broke up.

"I had almost forgotten those things, for the war of the Rebellion
broke out the next spring, and I was appointed surgeon in one of the
new regiments, and was on my way to the seat of war. But I had to pass
through the city where the Professor lived, and there I met him. My
first question was about Rupert. The Professor shook his head sadly.
'He's not so well,' he said; 'he has been declining since last
Christmas, when you saw him. A very strange case,' he added, giving it
a long Latin name,--'a very singular case. But go and see him yourself,'
he urged; 'it may distract his mind and do him good?'

"I went accordingly to the Professor's house, and found Rupert lying on
a sofa, propped up with pillows. Around him were scattered his books,
and, what seemed in singular contrast, that drum I told you about was
hanging on a nail, just above his head. His face was thin and wasted;
there was a red spot on either cheek, and his eyes were very bright and
widely opened. He was glad to see me, and when I told him where I was
going, he asked a thousand questions about the war. I thought I had
thoroughly diverted his mind from its sick and languid fancies, when he
suddenly grasped my hand and drew me toward him.

"'Doctor,' said he, in a low whisper, 'you won't laugh at me if I tell
you something?'

"'No, certainly not,' I said.

"'You remember that drum?' he said, pointing to the glittering toy that
hung against the wall. 'You know, too, how it came to me. A few wee