THE OAKS. | 93

the midst. It was evident that some plan was on foot,
for boys are planning creatures, and it is well when
their schemes involve no mischief. I am glad to say
such was now the case. They were talking in a low
tone about the pale German boy, Carl Adler. Carl had
come to school with scarcely any knowledge of English,
and a few months had not sufficed to remove his
oddities of pronunciation. He could not for his life
say, “ Thirty thousand thorns thrust through the thick
of their thumbs.” The attempt to utter this for-
midable formula, which he never refused, used to pro-
duce peals of laughter such as are heard only from a
croup of boys. Few at this age can abstain from
running rigs on a comrade. But Carl, though he used
to redden and hang his head, never lost his temper,
and this won him some favour. Though he could not
talk English well, he was the best Frenchman in the
school; indeed, he spoke the language fluently. Then
he was far before the rest of his age in Latin, He
could swim, wrestle, and fence, and was always ready
to do a favour. That evening the boys had observed
him weeping under the chestnut-tree.

Boys are as sagacious about such things as men:
they knew he was thinking of home, and the word home.
is sweet at a boarding-school. But little Carl’s home
was far over the sea, on the Rhine; and he was an
orphan, and what was more, the boys had learned within
a few days that he was poor, and that his uncle, Mr. |