“There is _nothing appears so clearly_ an object of the mind or intellect only as _the future_ does, since we can find no place for its existence any where else: not but the same, if we consider, is _equally true_ of the past--” “Well, co on--What stops the plockit? Can’t you reat Enclish now?” “Yes, sir; but I was trying to understand it. I was considering, that this is like what they would call an Irish bull, if I had said it.” Little Dominick could not explain what he meant in English, that Mr. Owen ap Jones _would_ understand; and, to punish him for his impertinent observation, the boy was doomed to learn all that Harris and Lowth have written to explain the nature of _shall_ and _will_. The reader, if he be desirous of knowing the full extent of the penance enjoined, may consult Lowth’s Grammar, p. 52, ed. 1799, and Harris’s Hermes, p. 10, 11, and 12, 4th edition. Undismayed at the length of his task, little Dominick only said, “I hope, if I say it all without missing a word, you will not give my mother a bad account of me and my grammar studies, sir.” “Say it all first, without missing a word, and then I shall see what I shall say,” replied Mr. Owen ap Jones. Even the encouragement of this oracular answer excited the boy’s fond hopes so keenly, that he lent his little soul to the task, learned it perfectly, said it at night, without missing one word, to his friend Edwards, and said it the next morning, without missing one word, to his master. “And now, sir,” said the boy, looking up, “will you write to my mother? And _shall_ I see her? And _shall_ I go home?” “Tell me first, whether you understant all this that you have learnt so cliply,” said Mr. Owen ap Jones. That was more than his bond. Our hero’s countenance fell: and he acknowledged that he did not understand it perfectly. “Then I cannot write a coot account of you and your crammer studies to your mother; my conscience coes against it,” said the conscientious Mr. Owen ap Jones. No entreaties could move him. Dominick never saw the letter that was written to his mother; but he felt the consequence. She wrote word this time punctually _by return of the post_, that she was sorry that she could not send for him home these holydays, as she heard so bad an account from Mr. Jones, &c. and as she thought it her duty not to interrupt the course of his education, especially his grammar studies. Little Dominick heaved many a sigh when he saw the packings-up of all his school-fellows, and dropped a few tears as he looked out of the window, and saw them, one after another, get on their Welsh ponies, and gallop off towards their homes. “I have no home to go to,” said he. “Yes, you have,” cried Edwards; “and _our_ horses are at the door to carry us there.” “To Ireland? me!--the horses!” said the poor boy, quite bewildered: “and will they bring me to Ireland?”