ned in a wonderful group
which, if her teacher was to be credited, stood for _Simon_! It was
better than drawing, infinitely better! Anybody could make a round thing
with four crooked legs and a thin tail, and call it a calf--but only a
scholar could put five letters together and make them stand for a man
and a calf beside; a man with a kind voice and a big beard, and a calf
that would lick a person's hand! Oh, but life had grown a wonderful
thing to little Eliza, when she trotted down the hillside, clinging to
the fingers of her new friend, and holding the sturdy little daisy in
the other sturdy little hand.

And life had grown even more wonderful to Simon Amberley. He had not
passed such a pleasant day since he could remember, and he had certainly
never in his life had so much to look forward to; for had not Eliza
promised to come again the next day, and to bring Bella Jones with her?

He went into the cabin after his chores were done, and pulled out an old
cowhide trunk with the hair pretty well worn off it, and there, inside,
he found the battered family Bible which had been sent out, at his
request, when his mother died; and a copy of Shakespeare's _Plays_ in
one volume which he had got as a prize at school. There, too, were Miss
Edgeworth's _Rosamond_, and Nathaniel P. Willis' _Poems_, and one volume
of Dr. Kane's _Explorations at the North Pole_. "Quite a library," he
said to himself, with conscious pride. He had not read in a book for
twenty years; not since the time, back in Ohio, when he had bought
Scott's complete Works at auction, and had to sell them again to pay his
way to Missouri, whither he had gone in obedience to that mysterious
prompting of the setting sun.

By and by he strolled up the hill to get the sunset light. It was very
splendid on the glittering snow of the heights over yonder. After all,
he reflected, the mountains knew pretty well what they were about. If
they had not let the enemy through, those little girls would not have
got in, and he should not have felt as if he were beginning life all
over again.

Before a month had passed, Simon found himself established in the new
character of Lame Gulch Professor. So, at least, Enoch called him, and
it was not displeasing to the subject of Enoch's pleasantry to know that
others had adopted the suggestion and bestowed upon him that honorable
title. His little class numbered fifteen or twenty children of assorted
ages and dispositions, who came