NY NCIs upon a time a certain Baron
q bold, named St. Clair, lived in a
strong castle, perched on a height
above a beautiful stream in Scotland.
It was called Roslin, and may still
be seen. When the Baron looked
out of his windows he saw the Esk
river flowing far below, and babbling
with a musical sound over its rocky

bed. On either side of the river at

Roslin there are high, steep banks,

THE PRENTICE PILLAR.

—_o ——

   

well clothed with wood, and rich in-

cliffs and caves. In fact, Roslin Castle hangs over
one of the most lovely dales you can see anywhere.
At the other end of the dale is another dwelling-
place, and they call it Hawthornden. Near Haw-
thornden is a cave called ‘ Robert-the-Bruce’s Cave.’
It has a well; a mighty sword, once wielded by the
brave hero; a bookcase scooped out of the rock;
and windows through which you look out upon a
most enchanting scene of wood, and crag, and water.

But to my story. One of the barons of Roslin
was minded to build a chapel near his castle which
should eclipse all others in beauty. The site was
chosen, the plans prepared, the foundation-stone laid.
Now the Baron wished the pillars of his chapel to
be wreathed about with flowers of stone, like those of
a certain chapel which he had either seen or heard of
abroad. But the master-builder, having attempted
several times to make a pillar such as the Baron
desired, was obliged to confess that he could not do the
work without paying a visit to the foreign chapel.
He therefore took ship for France, and was a long
while absent. In those days travelling was slow
work. Contrary winds hindered sailing véssels ; roads
were miry; coaches were cumbrous things. Trav-
elling, too, was perilous, for. men of violence were
abroad, and did pretty much as they liked. So the
master-builder of Roslin Chapel was long absent, and
the works were stayed.

Now there chanced to be among the builder's
prentices an exceedingly clever lad. He had heard,
with deep interest, all that was said about the wreathed
pulars, and had witnessed his master’s perplexity and
fulure. Night after night his thoughts were busy
on the problem—how to wreathe a pillar with stone.
Day by day he laboured at it. At length the pillar,
in exquisite beauty, stood before the sparkling eyes
of the happy youth.

When his work was complete, the news spread,
and the Baron came to see the pillar. He admired
the work very much, and warmly praised the prentice.
‘The pillar was deemed quite worthy of a place in the
chapel, and at the Baron’s orders it was set up where
you see it now. Soon afterwards the master-builder
returned, with his portfolio full of drawings and his
head crammed with knowledge. But what were his
feelings when he entered the yet unroofed walls and
saw a pillar standing before him fully as beautiful as
those he had been many hundred miles to visit and
to copy?

‘Who has done this?’ shouted the amazed master-
builder to the prentice, who stood beside him.

 

 

 

‘Master, it was I’ replied the youth modestly. «I
thought I would try and make such a pillar as my
Lord the Baron spoke of, and— ~

What ine prentice would have said further was cut
short by the violent rage of his master.

‘Wretch!’ shrieked he, ‘thou hast made mea
laughing-stock for all generations! What! must I
cross the sea to learn from others a secret which the
devil surely has taught thee at home? Thy cursed
pillar shall be broken to pieces, and thou shalt not
escape !’

With that the furious man advanced to the pillay,
intending to destroy the carved work with a hammer
which he had snatched up from the ground. The
prentice interposed, and received on his head the
fearful blow. He fell, covered with blood, and the
sight sobered the unhappy builder at once. But the
poor prentice was setiseless, and no mortal skill could
restore him to life.

Sad, indeed, was the Baron of Roslin when he
heard of this tragic event. Even in that rude age
of bloodshed, the fate of the prentice excited
much pity. Whither the murderer fled we know
not; but we do know that the Baron was obliged to
abandon his design as to the pillars of his chapel. He
made no further attempt to haye them all wreathed,
but he left the ‘Prentice Pillar’ standing alone in
its beauty amongst its plainer brethren, that people, |
to the end of time, might be arrested, and ask the
reason why.

The ‘ Prentice Pillar’ is, in fact, a sermon in stone,
warning all who know its sad history to beware
of the deadly passion of Envy, which, from the
days of Cain, has marked its progress in the world
with a trail of blood. G. 5. O.

THE IDLE BOY.

——o——

T was a whole holiday. The Mayor

of Beaconstow had triumphed over
Dr. Goggles, the head-muster. After
a fierce fight, his Worship had
wrested from the Doctor a whole
holiday. When the Mayor an-
nounced his victory the huzzahs were
immense, and he became a ‘brick’
forthwith. ;

The Doctor made a speech before the holiday,
and said he had yielded to pressure, and there
was a whole holiday against his will, The boys must,
however, do certain tasks, which were then and
there announced, together with dark hints of birch-
ings and other severities in cases where the lessons
were unlearnt. There was, of course, great indig-
nation outside, and a committee went to complain to
the Mayor, who, however, wisely let matters alone,

How the holiday was spent by the boys I don’t
pretend to know. And what the head-master did
with himself is no concern of mine. I am going to
follow the footsteps of Sydney Macduffer. If any of
my young friends wish to accompany me, they may
do so.

Sydney was a boy who always said ‘ Yes, sir,’ to
everything, but never did it. He was one of the very