This is what both parties saw. The two were in this very attitude. "Well, upon my word!" cries out Miss Zoe, But Davison did not let go his hold; and Miss Raby's head only sank down on his hand. "You must get another governess, Sir, for the little boys," Frank Davison said to the Doctor. "Anny Raby has promised to come with me." You may suppose I shut to the door on my side. And when I returned to the little school-room, it was blank and empty. Everybody was gone. I could hear the boys shouting at play in the green, outside. The glass of water was on the table where I had placed it. I took it and drank it myself, to the health of Anny Raby and her husband. It was rather a choker. But of course I wasn't going to stop on at Birch's. When his young friends re-assemble on the 1st of February next, they will have two new masters. Prince resigned too, and is at present living with me at my old lodgings at Mrs. Cammysole's. If any nobleman or gentleman wants a private tutor for his son, a note to the Rev. F. Prince will find him there. Miss Clapperclaw says we are both a couple of old fools; and that she knew, when I set off last year to Rodwell Regis, after meeting the two young ladies at a party at General Champion's house in our street, that I was going on a goose's errand. Well, well, that journey is over now; I shall dine at the General's on Christmas-day, where I shall meet Captain and Mrs. Davison, and some of the old pupils of Birch's; and I wish a merry Christmas to them, and to all young and old boys. |The play is done; the curtain drops, Slow falling, to the prompter's bell: A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell. It is an irksome word and task; And when he 's laughed and said his say, He shows, as he removes the mask, A face that's anything but gay. One word, ere yet the evening ends, Let's close it with a parting rhyme, And pledge a hand to all young friends, As fits the merry Christmas-time. On life's wide scene you, too, have parts, That Fate ere long shall bid you play; Good night! with honest gentle hearts A kindly greeting go alway! Good night!--I'd say, the griefs, the joys, Just hinted in this mimic page, The triumphs and defeats of boys, Are but repeated in our age. I 'd say, your woes were not less keen, Your hopes more vain, than those of men; Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen, At forty-five played o'er again. I'd say, we suffer and we strive Not less nor more as men than boys; With grizzled beards at forty-five, As erst at twelve, in corduroys. And if, in time of sacred youth,