Bert in such a mood before, so at once there was some whispered cautions to look out for a fight. Before Bert had been a minute beside the ring, Grayson accidentally brushed against him as, half stooping, he followed his alley across the ring. Bert immediately got his hands out of his pockets, and struck Grayson a blow on the back of the neck that felled him to the ground. All the boys immediately rushed to the spot, but before they had reached it the new pupil was on his feet, and the teacher reached the window, bell in hand, just in time to see Grayson give Bert a blow on the chest that caused the young man to go reeling backward, and yell "Oh!" at the top of his voice. Then the bell rang violently, and all of the boys but Bert Sharp hurried up stairs, Grayson not even taking the trouble to look behind him. In the scramble toward the seats Will Palmer found a chance to whisper to Ned Johnston, "There's no nonsense about him, eh?"

And Ned replied, "He's splendid."

All of the boys seemed of Ned's opinion, for when Mr. Morton, just as Bert Sharp entered, rang the school to order, and asked, "Who began that fight?" there was a general reply of, "Bert Sharp."

"Sharp, Grayson, step to the front," commanded the teacher.

Bert shuffled forward with a very sullen face, while Grayson stalked up so bravely that Benny Mallow risked getting a mark by kicking Sam Wardwell's feet under the desk to attract his attention, and then whispering, "Just look at that."

Before the teacher could speak to either of the two boys in front of him, Grayson said, "I'm very sorry, sir, but I was knocked down for nothing, unless it was brushing against him by mistake."

"Was that the cause, Sharp?" asked Mr. Morton.

Bert hung his head a little lower, which is a way that all boys have when they are in the wrong; so the teacher did not question him any farther, but said:

THE RECONCILIATION.

"Boys, Grayson is a stranger here. I know him to be a boy of good habits and good manners, and I give you my word that if you have any trouble with him, you will have to begin it yourselves. And if you expect to be gentlemen when you grow up, you must learn now to treat strangers as you would like to be treated if away from your own homes. Grayson, Sharp, go to your seats."

"May I speak to Sharp, sir?" asked Grayson.

"Yes," said Mr. Morton.

"I'm sorry I hit you," said the new boy. "Will you shake hands and be friends?"

Bert looked up suspiciously without raising his head, but Grayson's hand was outstretched, and as Bert did not know what else to do, he put out his own hand, and then the two late enemies returned to their seats, Bert looking less bad-tempered than usual, and Grayson looking quite sober.

Somehow at the afternoon recess every boy treated Grayson as if he had known him for years, and no one seemed to be jealous when Grayson invited Bert to play marbles with him, and insisted on his late adversary taking the first shot. But the teacher's remarks about Grayson had only increased the curiosity of the boys about their new comrade, and when Sam Wardwell remarked that old Mrs. Battle, with whom the teacher and his pupil boarded, bought groceries nearly every evening at his father's store, and he would just lounge about during the rest of the afternoon and ask her about Grayson when she came in, at least six other boys' offered to sit on a board pile near the store and wait for information.

As for Grayson, he sat in the school-room writing while the teacher waited, for more than an hour after the general dismissal, to hear Bert Sharp recite those detestable four pages of history, and Bert was a great deal slower at his task than he would have been if he had not had to wonder why Grayson had to do so much writing.

[to be continued.]

HOW A CRAB CHANGES HIS CLOTHES.

BY ALLAN FORMAN.

"Say, now, you leave my dinner alone, or I'll tell mamma."

"You can tell, if you have a mind to. I don't care, tell-tale."

No, it was not children that I heard quarrelling; it was only two little crabs. Children never speak so crossly to each other; but those two little crabs scolded and bit down there in the water until— But I am getting ahead of my story. I'll tell you how it was.

I had been out fishing, and as the sun became too hot, I rowed my boat to the shore under the shade of the trees, and sat thinking. I looked down into the water, and saw a little crab holding a clam shell under his mouth with his claw, and eating as fast as he could, at the same time turning his queer, bulging eyes in all directions to see that he would not be disturbed. But soon another crab came up, and tried to snatch away the clam shell. Then ensued the conversation which I have already quoted. I dropped a piece of clam into the water, and the new-comer seized it. He scuttled away under a piece of sea-weed, and cried out in triumph:

"Aha! greedy, you didn't get it, and it is much better than your old shell. Don't you wish you had it?"

"I'll change with you," said the other. "Just see this blue on the edge of my shell. Ain't it lovely?"

"Change! I guess not. Who cares for the blue? You can't eat the blue."

"Of course you can't eat it, but it is pretty. However, there is no use in talking to you about it; you have no love for the beautiful," said the other, tauntingly.

"You needn't put on so many airs. I'm bigger than you are, anyway," snarled the first.

"You won't be long, for I'm growing every day."

"Children! children! what is the matter?" asked the old mamma crab, who just appeared on the scene.

"Mamma, he tried to get my din—"

"I didn't; I only wanted—"

"He's a mean, horrid old thing, and I don't—"

"Why, children," interrupted the old crab, "I am ashamed of you. What is the matter?"

"He tried to take away my dinner," said one.

"He said I wasn't growing big," said the other.

"That did not stop your growth, did it?" said mamma.

"No—o," drawled the little one.

"And now," she continued, "I want you to behave yourselves. Stop such silly quarrelling. You act so much like boys and girls that I am ashamed of you."

"Say, mamma, my clothes are getting too tight for me, and I've bursted a seam in the back of my coat," said one of the youngsters, after a short pause.

"That is all right," answered mamma, assuringly; "you are only going to 'shed.'"

"Am I going to be all soft and helpless, like papa was, and then be taken away and not come back any more?"

"Oh no, I hope not. You must find a quiet place, and hide until you can take care of yourself," answered mamma.

Accordingly the young crab wandered around, and found a nice quiet place under the shadow of a large log; here he half buried himself in the mud, and commenced the operation of changing his clothes. He swelled himself out until the upper shell separated from the lower, then worked his claws slowly backward and forward, and expanded and contracted the muscles of his body; little by little he emerged from his shell, and finally, with one effort, he freed himself entirely from his old clothes. He lay back, exhausted by his exertions. While the crab is soft it is perfectly helpless, and it can be handled without fear of bites. When it first emerges from its shell it is covered with a skin as soft and delicate as yours, but if left undisturbed it will soon harden. If taken out of the water and kept in damp sea-weed, the process of hardening can be delayed for three or four days, when it dies of starvation, as it can eat nothing while soft, and that is the way in which it is