years ago, and my soul....." No, Robert had not as yet begun to think about that matter; the views of Maria in that particular had been too limited to admit of her communicating them to him, and Mrs. Hollis had confined his spiritual education, as yet, to teaching him our Lord's Prayer, which indeed was enough for his needs; he wished he was dead only, like Miss Dorrit the elder, but with the most earnest sincerity. Presently the boy remembered his errand, found without much difficulty an old skull, and took his way back again to the dormitory, ever and anon turning his face toward Heaven, because, if any friend were indeed left to him, he must surely, he thought, be there; but when he was about to close the iron-bound door behind him, and shut out the stars, he hesitated, left it ajar, and, instead of going straight up stairs, walked swiftly into a store-room on the right, where the boys' clothes were kept, and taking down those in which he had come to Senbury from their shelf, he put them on instead of his grey-coat dress; then, leaving the skull upon the cast-off garments, he softly reopened the door, and, returning to the burial-ground, climbed over its eastern wall, and passing through the outskirts of the town, took the road which lay, according to his judgment, the most directly away from London and from Senbury grammar-school.

CHAPTER VII.

ROBERT BIRT was not what is considered to be a clever boy, but he had sense and judgment much beyond his years; although he had run away this night partly upon impulse, it was by no means without some consideration. Had there been reasonable hope of an improvement in his treatment from the snob captain, and the boys generally, he would have endured his misery longer; or could he have looked for help from Bulbul Square in answer to any complaint of his, he would have written thither in the first place; but he knew how powerless Mrs. Hollis was, with what difficulty she had placed him at the school at all, and what he had to expect from her husband's tender exertions if Mr. Hollis should get to hear of his having dared to write complainingly. He had manifestly been born into a world which, with the trifling exception of Maria Keggs, did not require his presence; which hated him, despised him, and contemptuously termed him "coachey." There was surely something very

wrong and very cruel somewhere, thought he, which made him the innocent object of so much unkindness. Was God wrong and cruel? The fog which loomed over the muddy Sen, by which river his road ran for a mile or two, was writhing, serpentlike, above and around him, and darkened all the way, but he knew that the blessed stars were still shining beyond it out of the reach of harm. No, Robert, God was not cruel. Were there any other "coachies" in the world to sympathise with him? such was, or was about to be, his next consideration, when "Hai, hai," hollaed a gruff voice behind him; "smack, smack," cracked a whip. "Why, I nigh druv over you, mun, the fog's so thick, mun! Why, thee'st but a lad, and here 'tis eleven o'clock and more; why, where beest going to?"

"Good night! good night!" replied Robert evasively, and in as manful a voice as he could

assume.

"Good night!" cried the carrier, fairly pulling up in astonishment; "why thou'st walking right on into the river; hai! hai!" Then, after a pause, "But wuss'nt ride? I am going thy way, mun.'

The bait took. Poor Robert gladly answered, "Yes, if you please," and in another minute had turned and climbed up into the covered cart.

"Now, my lad," exclaimed the wily carrier,

"you see I've got you; now give an account of thyself, young gentleman.

;

"I am not a gentleman," said Robert, "at all please don't be angry with me, but I'm only a coachman's son,"

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'Nay, nay, boy, that may do for Senbury folk, but not for a Mineton man; thee beest no coachman's son; thee hast been and run away from school."

“Oh, pray, pray, don't take me back again!" cried the boy; "oh, good sir! I have been beaten there and sadly used, and they will kill me now if I go back."

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They only beat thee to make thee larn thy Latin,” said the man, turning his horse's head ; "it's Doctor Tertle as canes you idle chaps, I

reckon."

"Yes, but I don't mean him," urged Robert despairingly; "see here, my fingers are all cut about with penknives by the boys, and look where the hot halfpennies were put; I cannot close my hand."

Good God!

"Penknives! hot halfpennies! why, I never heard of such things-never. Thee shasn't go back-never fear. Hi, hoss, hi, Dobbin ; go you Mineton road again. Hot halfpennies! Well, I am d―d! Why, if you'd 'a been my son, I'd cut the villain in two with my whip, as sure as a lived."

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My father is dead," said Robert sorrowfully. "Poor boy! poor boy!" said the carrier; and as his large hand touched the child's head tenderly, the tears, which had been frozen at their source ever since when he had stood before the great gates of the grammar-school, and thought of home, streamed down in plenty, and relieved his bursting heart.

"Poor boy! Well, I am d―d! Poor boy!' repeated the carrier, again and again, and it was long before he could express himself more fully.

Why, I remember Farmer Bolt's boy being sadly banged at Mineton school for his larning, and such a row as was, to be sure, oh Lord! But as for boys putting hot. . . . eh, what's that you're saying, my lad?"

"Can I go to Mineton school? I've got a sovereign," asked Robert timidly.

"Well, I can't say-we'll see.

I'll take you

to Mr. Pluckit's; he knows about these things," said the carrier thoughtfully.

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Come, thee'llt get cold, my lad; wrap thyself round in the sack yonder, and get to sleep."

"God bless you, sir, good night," said the grateful boy.

"God bless thee, lad," replied the other heartily; then (to himself), " and d-n them Senbury chaps! Hot halfpennies! penknives!"