ip to the other boys.

Paul's face flushed. He wanted to knock Phillip's teeth down his throat.
He knew that his mother had hard work to clothe him, and felt the insult
keenly. He went into the school-house, choked his anger down, and tried
to forget all about it by drawing a picture of the master. It was an
excellent likeness,--his spindle legs, great feet, short pants, loose
coat, sunken eyes, hooked nose, thin face, and long bony fingers.

Philip sat behind Paul. Instead of studying his lesson, he was planning
how to get Paul into trouble. He saw the picture. Now was his time. He
giggled aloud. Mr. Cipher looked up in astonishment.

"What are you laughing at, Master Funk?"

"At what Paul is doing."

Paul hustled his slate into his desk.

"Let me see what you have here," said Cipher, walking up to Paul, who
spat on his fingers, and ran his hand into the desk, to rub out the
drawing; but he felt that it would be better to meet his punishment
boldly than to have the school think he was a sneak. He laid the slate
before the master without a line effaced.

"Giving your attention to drawing, are you, Master Paul?" said Cipher.
His eyes flashed. He knit his brows. The blood rushed to his cheeks.
There was a popping up of heads all over the school-room to get a sight
of the picture.

The boys laughed aloud, and there was a tittering among the girls, which
made Cipher very angry. "Silence!" he roared, and stamped upon the
floor so savagely that the windows rattled. "Come out here, sir. I'll
give you a drawing-lesson of another sort." He seized Paul by the
collar, and threw him into the space in front of his own desk. "Hold out
your hand."

Paul felt that he was about to receive a tremendous thrashing; but he
determined that he would not flinch. He held out his right hand, and
received the blow from a heavy ferule. His hand felt as if he had been
struck by a piece of hot iron.

"The other, sir."

Whack! it fell, a blow which made the flesh purple. There was an Oh!
upon his tongue; but he set his teeth together, and bit his lips till
they bled, and so smothered it. Another blow,--another,--another. They
were hard to bear; but his teeth were set like a vice. There was a
twitching of the muscles round his lips; he was pale. When the blows
fell, he held his breath, but did not snivel.

"I'll see if I can't bring you to your feeling, you good-for-nothing
scapegrace," said the master, mad with passion, and surprised t