Louis dried his tears, and spoke with tolerable calmness: "I have
one thing to ask, sir--will you allow me still to remain in the
second class, and to do my lessons always in this room? You will
then see if I can do without keys, or having any help."

"I know you can if you choose," replied Dr. Wilkinson, coldly,
"or I should not have placed you in that class."

"But, if you please, sir, I know all,"--Louis paused, he had promised
to say no more on that subject.

There was a little silence, during which Dr. Wilkinson looked earnestly
at Louis. At last he said, "You may stay in the class; but, remember,
you are forbidden to speak to any of your school-fellows for the next
week without express permission."

"Not to my brother, sir?"

"No; now go."

"May I write to mamma?"

"Yes, if you wish it."

After timidly thanking the doctor, Louis returned to his seat, and
Dr. Wilkinson continued his letter, which went off by the same post
that took Louis' to his mother.

CHAPTER V.

"Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous,
but grievous; nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the
peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are
exercised thereby."--Heb. xii. 11.

"Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have
I kept Thy word."--Psalm cxix. 67.

Perhaps there is no state more dangerous to a Christian's peace of
mind than one of continual prosperity. In adversity even the worldly
man will sometimes talk of resignation, and feel that it is a good
thing to be acquainted and at peace with God, and that when all human
help is cut off, it is a sweet thing to have a sure refuge in an
almighty Saviour. But in prosperity the ungodly never look to Him;
and His own children, carrying about with them a sinful nature, against
which they must continually maintain a warfare, are too apt to forget
the Giver in his gifts, and to imagine that all is well because nothing
occurs to disturb the regularity of their blessings.

Our little Louis, though the trial he now underwent was a bitter one,
and though at times it seemed almost too hard to be endured, learned by
degrees to feel that it was good for him. He had been in too high favor,
he had trusted too much in the good word of his school-fellows, and had
suffered the fear of man to deter him from his duty to God; and now,
isolated and looked upon as an unworthy member of the little society
to which he belonged, he learned to find his sole hap