The funniest play that I ever joined in at school, and one that sets me a-laughing now as I think of it so I can hardly write, is “leap-frog.”  It is unartistic and homely.  It is so humiliating to the boy who bends himself over and puts his hands down on his knees, and it is so perilous to the boy who, placing his hands on the stooped shoulders, attempts to fly over.  But I always preferred the risk of the one who attempted the leap rather than the humiliation of the one who consented to be vaulted over.  It was often the case that we both failed in our part and we went down together.  For this Jack Snyder carried a grudge against me and would not speak, because he said I pushed him down a-purpose.  But I hope he has forgiven me by this time, for he has been out as a missionary.  Indeed, if Jack will come this way, I will right the wrong of olden time by stooping down in my study and letting him spring over me as my children do.

Almost every autumn I see that old-time schoolboy feat repeated.  Mr. So-and-so says, “You make me governor and I will see that you get to be senator.  Make me mayor and I will see that you become assessor.  Get me the office of street-sweeper and you shall have one of the brooms.  You stoop down and let me jump over you, and then I will stoop down and let you jump over me.  Elect me deacon and you shall be trustee.  You write a good thing about me and I will write a good thing about you.”  The day of election in Church or State arrives.  A man once very upright in his principles and policy begins to bend.  You cannot understand it.  He goes down lower and lower, until he gets his hands away down on his knees.  Then a spry politician or ecclesiastic comes up behind him, puts his hand on the bowed strategist and springs clear over into some great position.  Good thing to have so good a man in a prominent place.  But after a while he himself begins to bend.  Everybody says, “What is the matter now?  It cannot be possible that he is going down too.”  Oh yes!  Turn-about is fair play.  Jack Snyder holds it against me to this day, because, after he had stooped down to let me leap over him, I would not stoop down to let him leap over me.  One half the strange things in Church and State may be accounted for by the fact that, ever since Adam bowed down so low as to let the race, putting its hands on him, fly over into ruin, there has been a universal and perpetual tendency to political and ecclesiastical “leap-frog.”  In one sense, life is a great “game of ball.”  We all choose sides and gather into denominational and political parties.  We take our places on the ball ground.  Some are to pitch; they are the radicals.  Some are to catch; they are the conservatives.  Some are to strike; they are those fond of polemics and battle.  Some are to run; they are the candidates.  There are four hunks—­youth, manhood, old age and death.  Some one takes the bat, lifts it and strikes for the prize and misses it, while the man who was behind catches it and goes in.  This