Green, as the teacher was disrespectfully called by the boys, was accustomed to' whip hard' when he had occasion to flog; and so, when the master proposed to Corsen that he should pay for the broken slate or 'take off his coat,' the valiant Kentuckian preferred to pay for the slate. But this running under the master's wings,' as the boys called it, convinced them that Finlay was a coward.

And yet, on the other hand, he did not seem much afraid of them. He did not get in anybody's way; he interfered now and then in favour of smaller boys, but he contented himself with declaring that if anybody troubled him he would not make a bully of himself by fighting, but that he would just appeal to the 'law' of the school for protection. If that was not sufficient, he would take the case before a justice.

This was a most unheard of course, and one that disappointed the boys of seeing a trial of strength between the new boy Finlay and Corsen. Some of the boys had made bets on the day of Finlay's advent that he could lam Dick Corsen, who had been 'king of the school.' Now they were disappointed of a trial.

But Corsen grew bold in proportion as he thought he saw cowardice in Finlay. He told the boys he would have a fight out of Finlay somehow.

Corsen had to cross the Ohio River every day to reach the school. During most of the year he came over in a skiff, but there had been unusually cold weather, and the river was frozen so that large wagons even could cross on the ice.

Dick Corsen had for three weeks walked across on this natural bridge. He now proposed to the boys that they should conceal themselves the next morning behind a certain great pile of driftwood on the shore of the river. He would then so time his arrival near the drift pile as to intercept Finlay, who had to walk two miles down the shore to reach the school. As Finlay would not know there were any witnesses, he would not be able to prosecute Dick for assault, and Corsen could tell his own story to the master.

Some of the school-boys had qualms about engaging in this conspiracy, but they were overborne by the others, who declared that such a coward ought to be taught to fight. Of course there were some boys in school who were not let into the secret at all. Their disapproval of the scheme was assured beforehand.

The weather had been warm for two or three days, and the school

master began to feel uneasy about the ice, knowing that some of the boys were accustomed to cross on it. A sudden rise in the river during the night had been reported to him by a fisherman who lived on the bank, and Mr. Green thought best to go down and examine the ice.

He walked along the shore until he was stopped by the old pile of lodged driftwood. In the open spaces beneath this great loose heap of trunks of trees, boughs and boards he heard smothered voices, and he soon saw several of his own pupils hidden here so intent in watching something beyond that they did not see him.

He turned up the bank till he reached a place where he could see over the top of the drift. There stood Corsen, with his coat off confronting Finlay.

'You've got to fight now, dog cn you!' said Corsen. You can't tell the master, for my story will be as good as yours.'

'You mean to whip me first and then lie about it,' said Henry Finlay, quietly. 'But what do you want to fight for? What harm have I done you?'

'You're a coward and a tell-tale. Get ready, now, for you've got to stand your ground.'

Finlay quietly laid down his books and the slate, which Corsen had been obliged to buy in place of the old one, and stood prepared to defend himself, with his back to the bank. This gave him a little the advantage of ground.

'Why don't you come down here, you coward, and fight on a level ?"

'If you don't like my way, what do you fight for?' retorted Finlay. 'I am a peaceable fellow. You have picked this lonesome place to attack me. I do not want to fight, and I won't stand out and fight like a rooster, or a bull-dog, or a prize-fighter. If I had a stick or a stone I would not hesitate to defend myself. I shall not fight you as a man, but as I would a bad dog. I shall stand here. If you attack me like a highwayman, I shall knock you down if there is strength enough under my roundabout, and I think there is.'

This was more than Dick Corsen had bargained for. He saw that Finlay utterly rejected the code, and took all the advantages of his defensive position. And Finlay had never seemed to him quite so strong as at this moment. The fellow was not exactly a coward after all. He was as cool as he could be, and it gradually dawned on Dick that if he struck Finlay once, he might give the boys under the driftheap the pleasure of seeing his own defeat.

For the present, therefore, he contented himself with taunts, which did not seem to disturb his big, good-natured antagonist. Finlay sat down on a log near by, while Corsen continued to exhaust his breath, conscious all the time that the boys under the drift-pile must begin to lose patience soon.

Suddenly Henry Finlay rose and started forward saying, 'Get out of the way, Dick, the ice is moving.'

'You lie,' said Dick; 'it's no such thing! You just want to get away, and I won't let you.'

'I tell you it is moving, and there's your brother Tom half way over! He will be drowned.'

'You don't come that game oyer me!' cried Corsen, whose courage revived at what he thought the first symptom of returning cowardice on the part of Finlay.

In truth the great mass of ice, nearly a mile in width, had begun to move slightly, and Dick's younger brother on his way to school was walking at his usual pace unconscious that the ice was afloat. It must soon break up, and the lad would perhaps be drowned.

Finlay sprang forward, but Dick caught him by the collar and stopped him, upon which Finlay, with an impatient and powerful shove, sent the bully backward into the sand and gravel,

The boys in the drift, who had not seen the moving ice, but who had lost all admiration for Dick, began to cheer. But in a moment every one was looking at the ice which now began to grind against the shore with a crashing, thundering sound. A large flat boat nearly a hundred feet long, was torn from its moorings and crushed by the slow but irresistible motion of the ice, which ground the timbers to splinters.

Powerful as was this slow, smooth avalanche of ice, it was broken in turn by an inmense rift of ice that stretched nearly from the shore, passing within twenty feet of Tom Corsen.

The poor lad was thoroughly frightened, and ran in terror toward the shore, where stood all the boys and the master, each suggesting a different plan for saving him, for the ice upon which he stood was beginning to break up, and he could not now get within a hundred yards of the shore, a great longitudinal fissure having shut him off. Finlay launched a skiff in the called to Dick to get in with him. could not live two minutes in the ice.

opening made by the first rift and Dick refused, declaring that a skiff

The schoolmaster, however, got in with Henry and they pushed off. Just then a great triangular piece which had been loosened by the second fissure, caught against the shore, and being forced down by the mass of ice above, assumed a rotary motion, and soon made kindling wood of the skiff.

The master and Finlay were glad to get back to the shore with their lives. Both had held to their oars, and Finlay seized the one carried by the schoolmaster, and with the two in his hands leaped down upon this rotating cake of ice, ran to its outer edge, where it was grinding hoarsely against the yet unbroken mass upon which Tom stood. He sprung clean over the dangerous point of contact, and reached the terrified Tom.

'Take this oar,' he said, 'and follow me.'

The cake of ice next to the shore had by this time drifted away from the mass on which they stood. Finlay easily cleared the gap but Tom fell in, and Finlay pulled him out by the oar, to which he held with a death-grip.

The triangle was fast going to pieces, and the next leap Finlay had to scramble out of the water first, and then pull Tom on.

But now there was no longer any communication with the shore, and the salvation of the boys seemed out of the question. They drifted along upon a cake of ice, which ever grew smaller by the wearing away of its edges. The boys and the schoolmaster ran down the shore, helpless to do anything for the lads who were afloat.

Then there was a sound below them of the crackling of ice cakes such as they had not heard before. It came nearer.

The ice before the boys seemed to be running back upon their own piece, which reared up in front, broke in two in the middle, and was overwhelmed and sunk by a great piece from above.

Finlay and Tom managed to extricate themselves from the ruin of the ice raft on which they stood, and to get upon the piece which had been forced above it. They then saw what it meant. The ice was gorged at the bend of the river. For a moment the great mass was locked in. Quick!

It is already trembling and about to move. Only swift, agile feet can save them.

They climb along the ridge and over the hummocks. They are safe ashore at the very instant when the dull roar and swash sets in again and the great grinding mass is on the move.

The master had fully intended to punish Dick Corsen. But he could not. The event of the morning had punished him. His disgrace was so complete that a whipping would almost have been a mercy. But the teacher did write upon the black board, Bullies are not generally brave.' And Dick Corsen left school.

GEORGIE'S HALF-PENNY.

GEORGIE is a bright little boy, and one of my especial favorites. He has one weakness-not one sugar tooth, but all his teeth are sugar teeth. His mamma does not allow him to have sweetmeats of any kind to eat without her permission, lest he should be made sick by eating too much.

One evening a visitor gave Georgie a half-penny; he held it a moment, then the thought came, Mother is busy talking, now I can go and buy candy with this half-penny instead of putting it in my bank, and she will never know it.'

He knew this was wrong, but finally he stole out of the room and went to a neighbouring shop, and asked in a low tone of voice for a 'stick of that white candy.'

Having received it, he started for home, but he had to hurry to eat it before he went in; and he hid it every time he met any one, for fear they should know he was doing wrong. On the whole he did not enjoy it very much, and felt very guilty all the evening. When his mamma put him to bed she asked him 'what he did with the halfpenny the lady gave him.'

'Put it in my bank,' he replied in a faint voice.

His mother had watched him and suspected the truth, but she said nothing, and presently left him.

After Georgie was left alone he felt very uncomfortable; he remembered a story now that had been told of a man and woman who had been killed for telling a lie. Trembling with fear he rushed to his mother, and telling her all the truth, asked :

'You s'pose God will knock me dead like Nias and Sfira ? '

'Let us pray him to forgive you,' she said; and kneeling down asked God to forgive Georgie, and to keep him from all sin. I trust that prayer was heard in heaven, and that angels were sent to watch over him and keep him from straying.