gathered to witness that time-honored custom of placing timid children
in a constrained positions and bullying them as in a witness box. As
usual in such cases, the most audacious and self-possessed were the
lucky recipients of the honors. The reader will imagine that in the
present instance Mliss and Clytie were preeminent, and divided
public attention; Mliss with her clearness of material perception
and self-reliance, Clytie with her placid self-esteem and saintlike
correctness of deportment. The other little ones were timid and
blundering. Mliss's readiness and brilliancy, of course, captivated the
greatest number and provoked the greatest applause. Mliss's antecedents
had unconsciously awakened the strongest sympathies of a class whose
athletic forms were ranged against the walls, or whose handsome bearded
faces looked in at the windows. But Mliss's popularity was overthrown by
an unexpected circumstance.

McSnagley had invited himself, and had been going through the pleasing
entertainment of frightening the more timid pupils by the vaguest and
most ambiguous questions delivered in an impressive funereal tone; and
Mliss had soared into astronomy, and was tracking the course of our
spotted ball through space, and keeping time with the music of the
spheres, and defining the tethered orbits of the planets, when McSnagley
impressively arose. "Meelissy! ye were speaking of the revolutions of
this yere yearth and the move-MENTS of the sun, and I think ye said it
had been a doing of it since the creashun, eh?" Mliss nodded a scornful
affirmative. "Well, war that the truth?" said McSnagley, folding his
arms. "Yes," said Mliss, shutting up her little red lips tightly. The
handsome outlines at the windows peered further in the schoolroom, and a
saintly Raphael face, with blond beard and soft blue eyes, belonging
to the biggest scamp in the diggings, turned toward the child and
whispered, "Stick to it, Mliss!" The reverend gentleman heaved a