But the young King was as brave a man as ever lived, and even when so suddenly brought face to face with this awful danger, he never flinched. He saw instantly that there was only one thing for him to do, and that it must be done without losing a moment. Never withdrawing his look for a moment from the savage eyes of the beast, or attempting to withdraw the hand which it was licking, he slid the other hand softly up to the bed's head, where his loaded pistols always hung.
Flash! bang! The room was filled with smoke, and as the servants rushed in, they saw the lion dead on the floor, and the King sitting with his face buried in his hands.
So ended all Count Thorn's troubles and anxieties; but somehow he did not appear much pleased after all. In his heart he was sorry for the brave beast that his pupil had loved so long; and when the King looked up from burying his dead favorite among the flowers in his garden, he saw that the old Count's keen gray eyes were as dim as his own.
[THE GRAMMAR COURT.]
BY W. T. PETERS.
Clinton was a rosy-cheeked boy, with a pair of dirty hands, and a very stupid head for the nine parts of speech. In fact, as far as his knowledge of grammar went, he was a dunce, and that's a very unpleasant thing to be, especially when one gets a daily thrashing, you know. Well, Clinton was a dunce, and his teacher knew it, and all the school knew it, and he knew it, and he felt very sulky about it on this particular day when I write of him; for he has come out of school with a red, swollen hand, and a pair of red, swollen eyes, though he wouldn't cry about a thrashing, not he—oh no, he is too brave for that.
Now Clinton lived in a nice little house near a nice little village, in which stood the school-house, and when he went home every day he had to go through an open field, and then through a piece of woods. It was about four o'clock on a summer afternoon—he had been kept in again—and the heat had not yet faded away. The sun looked hot and stary through the mist in Clinton's eyes, but its saucy, knowing look put him out, for it seemed to have too much information for a well-balanced sun.
Presently he came to a fresh bit of grass, by such a lordly old tree; so he threw himself down, all breathless and rosier than ever, and folding his inky fingers under his head, he fell to watching a domestic robin up in the tree, and thinking about the detested lessons at the same time.
"Now," said he—for he had a great habit of talking to himself aloud—"what good can there be in a fellow's learning that horrible stuff? I'll never have the faintest idea of what it all means, I'm sure, any more than that round robin up above me."