being a scholar, Appleby's good humour returned, whilst his foolish airs were for ever discarded; and in a short time it appeared surprising to himself, that he could have ever meditated so ignoble a line of conduct, as that of flying from school, where alone he could be rendered wise and manly, to dwell at home in ignorance and stupidity—the shame of his parents and the jest of the neighbourhood. When he visited Appleby Hall, a year afterwards, at the holidays, every one was alike struck by his improved manners and his enlarged affections; and all observed, with great truth, that the acquisitions of his mind were at least equalled by those of his heart. They were not aware that conceited children are rarely affectionate; because pride checks gratitude, by inspiring the idea that all kindness is due to their own fancied superiority. So sensible was poor Appleby of the change in himself, and the increased pleasure derived from it, that he was never weary of praising Mapleton House and all connected with it, even at his own expense; but dearer, far dearer than all besides, was the kind Tresham, who had rewarded good for evil, and delivered him from the greatest sorrow and trouble he had ever experienced. Many a time, in the hours of their highest en

joyment, would he remind him of those obligations which would have been on his part forgotten, by saying, "Dear James, surely I shall not again become such a silly, spoiled boy as I once was. Surely, I shall always remember our day in the Riding-school, which shall serve as a CURE for CONCEIT."

THE THREE WISHES.

"WELL," said George, "if I might choose, I'd rather be Julius Cæsar than any man that ever lived! He was a fine fellow, he conquered all the then-known world-from the pyramids of Egypt to the island of Thule-from the most remote provinces of Asia Minor to the western shores of the Peninsula. In ten years only, he took eight hundred cities; subdued three hundred nations, and left above a million of enemies dead upon his fields of battle! Now he was a hero! And what a glorious thing it must have been, after subduing Britons, Gauls, Germans, and Russians, to return with his triumphant legions, laden with spoil, and leading kings captive, a conqueror through the streets of Rome! I never think of Julius Cæsar without longing to be a soldier. He came-he saw-he conquered!' How famous that was! I wish I had lived in his days; or, better still, I wish there was another world to conquer, and I were the Julius Cæsar to do it!

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Upon my word! said Charles, "mighty grand! but if I might choose, I would rather be

**

Cicero. I'd rather be an orator ten thousand times than a warrior, though he were Julius Cæsar himself. Only think, George, when you came to die, how should you like to have the blood of a million of men on your conscience? Depend upon it, it's not such a fine thing to be a conqueror, after all! But an orator! his is a glorious character indeed. He gains victories over millions, without shedding one drop of blood! Now let us match ourselves one against the other; you a warrior, I an orator-each, let us suppose, the most accomplished in the world. What can you do without your legions and your arms? With ten thousand men at your back, armed at all points, where, pray, is the wonder that you take possession of a city or a country, weakly defended perhaps, both by men and means? But place me among savages, (provided only I can speak their tongue)-give me no arms -no money; nay, even strip me of my clothes, and leave me a defenceless solitary being among thousands, and what will follow-I will draw tears from the stoniest-hearted among them ;they shall give me bread to eat, clothing to wear, they shall build a house to cover me,— and, if my ambition extend so far, they shall choose me for their king; and this only by the

words of my mouth! Now who, I ask you, is most powerful, you or I?

"You think it was a glorious thing for Julius Cæsar to pass with his captives through the streets of Rome. I think it was glorious, too, for Cicero, when, after having exposed and defeated the horrible conspiracy of Cataline, and driven him from Rome, he was borne by the most honourable men of the city to his house, along streets crowded with thousands of inhabitants, all hailing him Father and Saviour of his country! I wish I could be a Cicero, and you might be a Julius Cæsar, and an Alexander the Great for me.

"But come, William, said he, addressing his other brother," who would you choose to be? -and what arguments can you bring forward in favour of your choice?"

"I," replied William, "would choose to be John Smeaton."

"John Smeaton?" questioned Charles, “and pray, who in the world was John Smeaton ?"

"Bless me!" said George, "not know John Smeaton! He was a cobbler, to be sure, and wrote a penny pamphlet, to prove how superior wooden shoes are to Grecian sandals !"

"Not he, indeed!" interrupted William, in