Something, however, drew honest Slingsby towards the youth.  It might be the kindness he bore to his father, who is one of the schoolmaster’s great cronies; it might be that secret sympathy which draws men of vagrant propensities towards each other; for there is something truly magnetic in the vagabond feeling; or it might be, that he remembered the time when he himself had come back, like this youngster, a wreck, to his native place.  At any rate, whatever the motive, Slingsby drew towards the youth.  They had many conversations in the village tap-room about foreign parts and the various scenes and places they had witnessed during their wayfaring about the world.  The more Slingsby talked with him, the more he found him to his taste; and finding him almost as learned as himself, he forthwith engaged him as an assistant, or usher, in the school.  Under such admirable tuition, the school, as may be supposed, flourishes apace; and if the scholars do not become versed in all the holiday accomplishments of the good old times, to the Squire’s heart’s content, it will not be the fault of their teachers.  The prodigal son has become almost as popular among the boys as the pedagogue himself.  His instructions are not limited to school hours; and having inherited the musical taste and talents of his father, he has bitten the whole school with the mania.  He is a great hand at beating a drum, which is often heard rumbling from the rear of the school-house.  He is teaching half the boys of the village, also, to play the fife, and the pandean pipes; and they weary the whole neighbourhood with their vague pipings, as they sit perched on stiles, or loitering about the barn-doors in the evenings.  Among the other exercises of the school, also, he has introduced the ancient art of archery, one of the Squire’s favourite themes, with such success, that the whipsters roam in truant bands about the neighbourhood, practising with their bows and arrows upon the birds of the air, and the beasts of the field; and not unfrequently making a foray into the Squire’s domains, to the great indignation of the gamekeepers.  In a word, so completely are the ancient English customs and habits cultivated at this school, that I should not be surprised if the Squire should live to see one of his poetic visions realized, and a brood reared up, worthy successors to Robin Hood and his merry gang of outlaws.

A VILLAGE POLITICIAN.

I am a rogue if I do not think I was designed for the helm of state; I am so full of nimble stratagems, that I should have ordered affairs, and carried it against the stream of a faction, with as much ease as a skipper would laver against the wind.

  —­The Goblins.