or you. You
are not a fool like the other fellow, and your wisdom will serve you a
good turn."

Sandy made no remark in reply to this speech of Mr. Batterman. He had
made up his mind to submit with all the philosophy he could bring to
his aid. He had been flogged before. It was not a new institution to
him, as it had been to his companion in iniquity. He looked upon a
flogging as one of the necessary evils to which a fast boy must submit;
and though he did not think it was all for the best, he was disposed to
make the best of it. The thrashing was the gate by which he was to
escape from a bad scrape.

The farmer bore less malice towards him than towards his friend. He had
offered no resistance, and been measurably humble under the discipline
of misfortune. The blows were lighter and less in number, and when a
dozen strokes had been administered, Mr. Batterman was satisfied, and
so expressed himself. At the same time he volunteered an opinion that
Richard was the real sinner, and had led the other into the mischief--a
position which Sandy took no pains to controvert.

But Sandy, though he was a philosopher, and an embryo man of the world,
did not submit to his punishment in silence. He was not a Stoic, and
every blow extorted from him a cry of pain, which was as politic as it
was necessary. He labored to convince the farmer that he was suffering
severely from the castigation, so that he might be the sooner satisfied
with what had been done. Compared with that which Richard had received,
his whipping was light. When it was finished, he was surprised that he
had got off with so little; and he congratulated himself upon the
strategy which had so sensibly diminished his portion.

"Now, boys, you can go. If you are satisfied, I am; and when you want
to steal any more of my fruit, just remember my treatment of fruit
thieves," said the farmer.

"You haven't seen the end of this yet," replied Richard, as he moved
off, his skin and his proud spirit smarting in unison.

"You haven't seen the end of it either, if you don't keep a civil
tongue in your head."

Richard was tempted to enter immediately upon the work of revenging
himself for what he had suffered, and when the farmer spoke, he picked
up a couple of stones, with the intention of throwing them at his
tormentor; but Sandy, cool and self-possessed in the hour of
tribulation, dissuaded him from this insane course.

"No use, Dick; drop the stones, and we will pay him