hts and Ladies of the Round Table, promised, more than two
years ago, to build that school for them; but we haven't done it
yet, and when visitors to the farm ask to be shown the Round Table
building they are led to a most beautiful site, on which rest two
great piles of stone, hauled there for the foundations. They are
told that here is where the school will stand whenever the young
Knights and Ladies get ready to build it; and Mr. Hinckley always
adds, "They are certain to do it, for they have promised, and I
have never yet been disappointed in any promise made in connection
with this work."

It made me feel awfully ashamed to think that we made that promise
two years ago and had not fulfilled it yet. How do you feel about
it?

All the work of the farm is done by the boys themselves. They chop
wood, and fetch water, and plough, and make hay, and bake all the
bread, and wait on table, and sweep, and do a thousand other
things, besides having regular study hours and drills. In addition
to all this they somehow find time to attend to their own little
private gardens--the produce of which, is bought by the Farm at
the regular market price--to play ball, go in swimming, build
"Cubbies" or cubby houses down by the river out of bits of refuse
lumber, and do almost everything else that hearty, happy boys find
to do in the country.

The most striking features of the farm are the utter absence of
profanity or even vulgar language, for I did not hear a word while
there that could not have been uttered with perfect propriety in a
Sunday-school; the prompt obedience to orders; the happy, homelike
air pervading the whole farm, and Mr. Hinckley's infinite patience
in dealing with the boys. He is always ready to listen to them,
always ready to advise them, and is always interested in their
most trivial affairs. As he says, "If I encourage them to come to
me freely with their little perplexities, they will come to me for
advice concerning their greater affairs later on."

One boy is kept at the farm by an Odd Fellows Association, of
which his father was a member, and who have pledged $100 per year
for his support until he is fitted to care for himself. The head
waiter of the dining-room, a merry-faced, curly-headed,
sixteen-year-old chap, is to be s