CHAPTER II.
IN DISGRACE Fire was the cause of Martin's getting into disgrace at school for the first time; and this is how it happened.
"Go and poke the fire, Martin Rattler," said the school-master, "and put on a bit of coal, and see that you don't send the sparks flying about the floor." Martin sprang with alacrity to obey; for he was standing up with the class at the time, and was glad of the temporary relaxation.

He stirred the fire with great care, and put on several pieces of coal very slowly, and rearranged them two or three times; after which he stirred the fire a little more, and examined it carefully to see that it was all right; but he did not seem quite satisfied, and was proceeding to re-adjust the coals when Bob Croaker, one of the big boys, who was a bullying, ill-tempered fellow, and had a spite against Martin, called out,-- "Please, sir, Rattler's playin' at the fire." "Come back to your place, sir!" cried the master, sternly.
Martin returned in haste, and resumed his position in the class.

As he did so he observed that his fore-finger was covered with soot.
Immediately a smile of glee overspread his features; and, while the master was busy with one of the boys, he drew his black finger gently down the forehead and nose of the boy next to him.
"What part of the earth was peopled by the descendants of Ham ?" cried the master, pointing to the dux.
"Shem!" shrieked a small boy near the foot of the class.
"Silence!" thundered the master, with a frown that caused the small boy to quake down to the points of his toes.
"Asia!" answered dux.
"Next ?" "Turkey!" "Next, next, next?
Hallo! John Ward," cried the master, starting up in anger from his seat, "what do you mean by that, sir ?" "What, sir ?" said John Ward, tremulously, while a suppressed titter ran round the class.
"Your face, sir! Who blacked your face, eh ?" "I--I--don't know," said the boy, drawing his sleeve across his face, which had the effect of covering it with sooty streaks.
An uncontrollable shout of laughter burst from the whole school, which was instantly followed by a silence so awful and profound that a pin might have been heard to fall.
"Martin Rattler, you did that! I know you did,--I see the marks on your fingers.

Come here, sir! Now tell me; _did_ you do it ?" Martin Rattler never told falsehoods.

His old aunt had laboured to impress upon him from infancy that to lie was to commit a sin which is abhorred by God and scorned by man; and her teaching had not been in vain.