“He ran to the edge o’ the tree roof and took hold o’ the end of a long spider’s rope hangin’ down in the air.  In a jiffy he swung clear o’ the tree and climbed, hand over hand, until he had gone awa-a-a-a-y out o’ sight in the sky.”

* * * * *

“Couldn’t anybody do that?” said little John.

“I didn’t say they could—­did I? ye unbeliever!” said the schoolmaster as he rose and led us in to the supper table.  “I said Nobody did it.”

We got him to tell this little tale over and over again in the days that followed, and many times since then that impersonal and mysterious guide of the schoolmaster’s fancy has led me to paradise.

After supper he got out his boxing-gloves and gave me a lesson in the art of self-defense, in which, I was soon to learn, he was highly accomplished, for we had a few rounds together every day after that.  He keenly enjoyed this form of exercise and I soon began to.  My capacity for taking punishment without flinching grew apace and before long I got the knack of countering and that pleased him more even than my work in school, I have sometimes thought.

“God bless ye, boy!” he exclaimed one day after I had landed heavily on his cheek, “ye’ve a nice way o’ sneakin’ in with yer right.  I’ve a notion ye may find it useful some day.”

I wondered a little why he should say that, and while I was wondering he felled me with a stinging blow on my nose.

“Ah, my lad—­there’s the best thing I have seen ye do—­get up an’ come back with no mad in ye,” he said as he gave me his hand.

One day the schoolmaster called the older boys to the front seats in his room and I among them.

“Now, boys, I’m going to ask ye what ye want to do in the world,” he said.  “Don’t be afraid to tell me what ye may never have told before and I’ll do what I can to help ye.”

He asked each one to make confession and a most remarkable exhibit of young ambition was the result.  I remember that most of us wanted to be statesmen—­a fact due probably to the shining example of Silas Wright.  Then he said that on a certain evening he would try “to show us the way over the mountains.”

For some months I had been studying a book just published, entitled, Stenographic Sound-Hand and had learned its alphabet and practised the use of it.  That evening I took down the remarks of Mr. Hacket in sound-hand.

The academy chapel was crowded with the older boys and girls and the town folk.  The master never clipped his words in school as he was wont to do when talking familiarly with the children.

“Since the leaves fell our little village has occupied the center of the stage before an audience of millions in the great theater of congress.  Our leading citizen—­the chief actor—­has been crowned with immortal fame.  We who watched the play were thrilled by the query:  Will Uncle Sam yield to temptation or cling to honor?  He has chosen the latter course and we may still hear the applause in distant galleries beyond the sea.  He has decided that the public revenues must be paid in honest money.