JEAN PAUL.—Die Unsichtbare Loge. It is not the intention of sportive instruction that the child should be spared effort, or delivered from it; but that thereby a passion should be wakened in him, which shall both necessitate and facilitate the strongest exertion. Hugh made no haste to find his pupil in the library; thinking it better, with such a boy, not to pounce upon him as if he were going to educate him directly. He went to his own rooms instead; got his books out and arranged them,—supplying thus, in a very small degree, the scarcity of modern ones in the book-cases; then arranged his small wardrobe, looked about him a little, and finally went to seek his pupil. He found him in the library, as he had been given to expect, coiled up on the floor in a corner, with his back against the book-shelves, and an old folio on his knees, which he was reading in silence. “Well, Harry,” said Hugh, in a half-indifferent tone, as he threw himself on a couch, “what are you reading?” Harry had not heard him come in. He started, and almost shuddered; then looked up, hesitated, rose, and, as if ashamed to utter the name of the book, brought it to Hugh, opening it at the title-page as he held it out to him. It was the old romance of Polexander. Hugh knew nothing about it; but, glancing over some of the pages, could not help wondering that the boy should find it interesting. “Do you like this very much?” said he. “Well—no. Yes, rather.” “I think I could find you something more interesting in the book-shelves.” “Oh! please, sir, mayn’t I read this?” pleaded Harry, with signs of distress in his pale face. “Oh, yes, certainly, if you wish. But tell me why you want to read it so very much.” “Because I have set myself to read it through.” Hugh saw that the child was in a diseased state of mind, as well as of body. “You should not set yourself to read anything, before you know whether it is worth reading.” “I could not help it. I was forced to say I would.” “To whom?” “To myself. Mayn’t I read it?”