The school-mistress shut up her book. Bill Keeler rolled up his eyes, and made his mouth into a round O. “Go to your seat!” said the school-mistress. I turned to go. “Stop!” said the school-mistress, fetching me a slap on the side of the head; at the same moment she opened the book, and again presented the alphabet to my view. “Look, there!” said she, pointing with her finger to the top letter; “do you see that?” I answered, “Yes.” “Well, that’s A,” said she. “That’s A?” said I, doubtingly. “Yes,” said the mistress sharply. “I don’t believe it!” said I. “Why don’t you believe it?” said she. “Because I never heard of it before,” I replied. “Go to your seat!” said the school-mistress; and away I went. Such was my first day’s schooling. In the evening, Mistress St. John called upon my uncle, and told him I was the most stupid creature she ever saw, and very ill-mannered beside; and she hoped I would by no means be permitted to come again to her school. My uncle was greatly offended, not with me, but with the school-mistress. He declared I should not go near her again; and, for more than a year, I was permitted to amuse myself in my own way. I was greatly pleased with all this at the time, but I have since often thought how severely I was punished for my ill behavior at school. For more than a year, I was left to run about in idleness, getting bad habits, and losing the precious time that should have been devoted to the acquisition of knowledge. Thus it always happens, that, soon or late, we are made to suffer for our misconduct. (_To be continued._) Swallows. Of these birds there are several kinds, but I am going to speak of only one or two of them now. The common barn swallow is one of the most interesting. It does not come much among us at the north, till the settled warm weather of May. A straggler now and then appears before, which has led to the adage, “One swallow does not make summer.” The flight of the swallow is often low, but distinguished by great rapidity, and sudden turns and evolutions, executed as if by magic. Over fields and meadows, and the surface of pools and sheets of water, all the day may this fleet, unwearied bird be seen, skimming along, and describing, in its oft repeated circuit, the most intricate mazes. The surface of the water is indeed its delight; its insect food is there in great profusion; and it is beautiful to observe how dexterously it skims along, and with what address it dips and emerges, shaking the spray from its burnished plumage, as, hardly interrupted by the plunge, it continues its career. Thus it feeds, and drinks, and bathes upon the wing. [Illustration: _Bank Swallows._]