“It is false,” he exclaimed; “it is as false as your own cruel and cowardly heart, you wicked and unprincipled tyrant! In everything you have said of my father, mother, and friends, and of myself, too, you are' a liar, from the hat on your head to the dirt undher your feet--a liar, a coward, and a villain!” The fury of the miscreant was ungovernable:--he ran at the still feeble lad, and, by a stroke of his fist, dashed him senseless to the earth. There were now no large boys in the school to curb his resentment, he therefore kicked him in the back when he fell. Many voices exclaimed in alarm--“Oh, masther! sir; don't kill him! Oh, sir! dear, don't kill him! Don't kill poor Jemmy, sir, an' him still sick!” “Kill him!” replied the master; “kill him, indeed! Faith, he'd be no common man who could kill him; he has as many lives in him as a cat! Sure, he can live behind a ditch, wid the faver on his back, wid-out dying; and he would live if he was stuck on the spire of a steeple.” In the meantime the boy gave no symptoms of returning life, and the master, after desiring a few of the scholars to bring him oat to the air, became pale as death with apprehension. He immediately withdrew to his private apartment, which joined the schoolroom, and sent out his wife to assist in restoring him to animation. With some difficulty this was accomplished. The unhappy boy at once remembered what had just occurred; and the bitter tears gushed from his eyes, as he knelt down, and exclaimed “Merciful Father of heaven and earth, have pity on me! You see my heart, great God! and that what I did, I did for the best!” “Avourneen,” said the woman, “he's passionate, an' never mind him. Come in an' beg his pardon for callin' him a liar, an' I'll become spokesman for you myself. Come, acushla, an' I'll get lave for you to stay in the school still.” “Oh, I'm hurted!” said the poor youth: “I'm hurted inwardly--somewhere about the back, and about my ribs!” The pain he felt brought the tears down his pale cheeks. “I wish I was at home!” said he. “I'll give up all and go home!” The lonely boy then laid his head upon his hands, as he sat on the ground, and indulged in a long burst of sorrow. “Well,” said a manly-looking little fellow, whilst the tears stood in his eyes, “I'll tell my father this, anyhow. I know he won't let me come to this school any more. Here, Jemmy, is a piece of my bread, maybe it will do you good.” “I couldn't taste it, Frank dear,” said Jemmy; “God bless you; but I couldn't taste it.” “Do,” said Frank; “maybe it will bate back the pain.” “Don't ask me, Frank dear,” said Jemmy; “I couldn't ate it: I'm hurted inwardly.”