over. They might be in the drawer, though. Well in for a penny in for a pound: I'll just peep in to see." And with a red face-for he felt ashamed, even then, of what he was doing-he pulled the drawer of the desk open.

There the papers were, all of them. His own paper lay at the top. With trembling hands he took it out, closed the drawer, and walked with it to the other end of the school-room. He was afraid of being too far from the door, lest any one should come in and find him there; and yet all the time he was trying to persuade himself that he was doing no harm.

Suddenly he heard a footstep at the back of the school-house. Immediately hiding his paper inside his jacket, he darted out of the door, locked it, hung the key on the nail, and whisked round to the other side of the building, as the step came to the front. There were several bushes, forming a sort of shrubbery at the end where Charley was; among these he crouched down, and began to examine the paper. What a vexation! He had spelled that very word wrong. "It's not fair," he thought angrily. "If I had considered about it, I must have spelled it right. It's only a slip." And he remained waiting in the bushes in no very enviable state of mind. But what in the world should he do, if the person who had just gone into the school-house was the master, come to fetch the papers for Mr. Witherby? Then it would be discovered that his paper was not among them; and, even if it were not found out that he had taken it, he would lose all chance of the prize. And of course he would be asked, if he knew how his paper had disappeared. He grew hot and cold in turns at the bare idea.

It seemed as if he had waited for hours crouching beneath the laurel bushes before the step was heard again. He cautiously crept a little further round, and saw the master going out of the play-ground. Charley

did not see any papers; so he hoped they were still in the drawer. As soon as the sound of footsteps had died away, he hurried round to the porch to replace his paper in the desk. But this time the key was not there! Then the master had taken it away with him! What was Charley to do now?-Our Curate's Budget.

THE SONG OF STEAM.

HARNESS me down with your iron bands
Be sure of your curb and rein;
For I scorn the power of your puny hands
As the tempest scorns a chain.
How I laugh'd, as I lay concealed from sight
For many a countless hour,

At the childish boast of human might,
And the pride of human power!

When I saw an army upon the land,
A navy upon the seas,
Creeping along, a snail-like band,

Or waiting the wayward breeze;
When I mark'd the peasant faintly reel
With the toil which he daily bore,
As he feebly turn'd at the tardy wheel,
Or tugg'd at the weary oar.

When I measured the panting courser's speed,
The flight of the carrier dove,

As they bore the law a king decreed,

Or the lines of impatient love;

I could not but think how the world would feel,
As these were out-stripp'd afar,

When I should be bound to the rushing keel,
Or chain'd to the flying car.

In the darksome depths of the fathomless mine,
My tireless arm doth play,

Where the rock never saw the sun decline,

Or the dawn of a glorious day.
I bring earth's glittering jewels up.
From the hidden cave below;
And I make the fountain's granite cup
With a crystal gush o'erflow.

I blow the bellows, I forge the steel,
In all the shops of trade;

I hammer the ore and turn the wheel
Where my arms of strength are made:
I manage the furnace, the mill, the mint,
I carry, I spin, I weave;

And all my doings I put into print
On every Saturday eve.

I've no muscle to weary, no breast to decay,
No bones to be "laid on the shelf;"

And soon I intend you may "go and play,"
While I manage the world by myself.
But harness me down with your iron bands→→
Be sure of your curb and rein;

For I scorn the strength of your puny hands
As the tempest scorns a chain.-G. W. Cutter.

THE DICTATION PRIZE.-Continued.

PART II.

WHAT was Charley to do? He was half frantic with despair. He thought of the windows. There were two, one at each end of the long schoolroom, but they were high up, at least five feet from the ground. One faced the road; it would be quite impossible for him to get in there. There was nothing for him but the other. He ran eagerly round, crept among the shrubs again, and looked up to it.

There was some ivy growing against that end of the

schoolroom. Charley tried to pull himself up by it, but the twigs were young and tender, and broke off in his hand. Clearly that plan would not do. He looked about again, a young horse-chestnut tree grew in the shrubbery, and one of its branches was a little above the window-sill. If he could only manage to climb into the tree and creep along that branch he could let himself down on the outside ledge of the window. It was rather a difficult feat, but Charley was an active boy, and accustomed to scramble about. In a moment he had climbed into the tree, and made his way carefully along the branch. When he had gone far enough, he sat down, grasping a small bough firmly with one hand, and then, gradually lowering himself, he succeeded in placing his feet on the window-sill. With the hand that was free he took hold of the frame, crept to the inside ledge-for the window was open, as he had before observed-let himself down, till his feet rested on the top of the master's desk, which always stood at that end of the room, and sprang from it

to the floor.

As soon as he had recovered from the fright occasioned by the noise he made, he opened the drawer. Yes, the papers were still there; the master had not taken them away. Charley breathed more freely. He felt safe again. "Master must have come back for his pocket-book," he said to himself. "I remember it was in the drawer before. My eye! what a lot of new pens!" and he took one in his hand, "I've a great mind to alter that wretched word, just to put a stroke through the second 'l.' It is'nt like putting a letter in; of course I knew how to spell it." He opened the paper, dipped the pen in the ink, and drew it through the letter. His hand, however, shook so much, and he made such a poor uncertain stroke, that he was obliged to do it again. Then he thought the whole word looked untidy, so he put his pen through it, and wrote it again correctly above. As he did so, a voice within spoke loudly,

'Charley Robins, you're a cheat, a cheat!

But he

would not listen. "It can't be helped," he thought. "It's just a chance I did'nt put it right at first. That's fair enough. Now to get back again."

He put his paper into its place, and closed the drawer. It was not such an easy thing, however, to get back. The master's desk was high, and it was difficult for the boy to climb up on it, and get a firm footing. He managed it at last, however; and grasping the window frame firmly, sprang up to the ledge. But as he sprang, the heel of his boot caught the large inkstand, which stood on the ledge of the desk. It rolled off, and

Charley looking round saw a pool of ink upon the floor. Down he jumped again, in great anxiety to see the extent of the mischief. The first thing was to wipe up the ink and try to prevent the stain from showing. He felt in his pocket; but his handkerchief was not there. He remembered he had not taken one to school that morning. He looked round the room, hoping to see some scrap of paper, and under a bench, at the further end of the room, he discovered a handkerchief. Without stopping to think whose it was, he began to mop up the spilt ink. It was not much use though; the handkerchief was soon dripping with ink, but the pool seemed no smaller than before. He was forced to give it up.

The inkstand was broken too; the bottom had come, as Charley would have expressed it, "clean off," but the two pieces could be made to fit together, so that the breakage hardly showed. He picked them up, fitted them together on the desk, and then, disgusted and sick at heart, clambered carefully up to the window. As he rested for a moment on the ledge, he heard steps outside the door. The key turned in the lock, and just as he disappeared through the window, Mr. Witherby and the master came into the room. They did not catch sight of him, and he, crouching in the tree, hardly dared to move. However, as he heard them still talking