One morning William Dulan sat at his desk. His face was pale, his spirits depressed. He loved Alice, oh! how madly. He could not forego the pleasure of her society; yet how was all this to end? Long years must elapse before, if ever, he could be in a situation to ask the hand of Alice. With his head bowed upon his hand, he remained lost in thought. "Mr. Dulan, may our class come up? We know our lessons," said a youthful voice at his elbow. "Go to your seats, boys," said a rich, melodious, kind voice; "I wish to have a few moments' conversation with Mr. Dulan," and Dr. Keene, the principal, stood by his side. "My dear Dulan," said he, "you are depressed, but I bring you that which will cheer your spirits. I have decided to give up my school here into your sole charge if you will accept it. I have received, through the influence of some of my political friends, a lucrative and permanent appointment under the government, the nature of which I will explain to you by and by. I think of closing my connection with this school about the end of the next term. What say you? Will you be my successor?" Dulan started to his feet, seized both the hands of his friend, pressed them fervently, and would have thanked him, but utterance failed. Dr. Keene insisted on his resuming his seat, and then added: "The income of the school amounts to twelve hundred dollars a year. The schoolhouse, dwelling-house, with its outbuildings and numerous improvements upon the premises, go into the bargain. Yes, Dulan, I have known your secret long," said he, smiling good-humoredly, "and sincerely, though silently, commiserated the difficulties of your position; and I assure you, Dulan, that the greatest pleasure I felt in receiving my appointment was in the opportunity it gave me of making you and Alice happy. Stop, stop, Dulan, let me talk," laughed Keene, as William opened a battery of gratitude upon him. "It is now near the end of July. I should like to see you installed here on the first of September. The August vacation will give you an opportunity of making all your arrangements. I must now leave you to your labors."