tivity. They
must originate, or they are naught. Parents and children--they are all
the same. I am convinced that there is no scholarship to be established
here. It has been tried and the attempt has failed a hundred times. It's
not in the nature of things. Get on the good side of them, that's all.
That has failed sometimes, but it is not among the impossible things. Get
on the good side of them."

Finally, he turned to address the children. The "examins" had certainly
not been severe, but the "blowin' up" was faithfully and liberally
performed.

Never before had I felt so drawn to my poor, wondering, wolf-besieged
flock, and in proportion to my tenderness for them waxed my indignation
toward the "Turkey Mogul."

"You can't learn," said he. "That's a sufficiently established fact, but
if you don't behave, your teacher is going to write to me, mind! and I
shall come down here in my buggy, and take you right up and off to
Farmouth where we have a place to keep all such naughty boys and girls."

This last was evoked as a benediction. Mr. Baxter looked at his watch,
and remarked that it was a long drive to Farmouth, and he must be going.
"Dismiss your school, Miss Hungerford," he said.

Now the children were accustomed--it was a special privilege they had
requested--to sing, before the school closed at night, one of the hymns
with which they were all so familiar in Wallencamp.

I would have dismissed them, on this occasion, without further ceremony,
but before I had time to tap my ruler on the desk as a signal for
dismissal, they all struck up as with one voice:--

"What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our griefs and woes to share!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer."

At first I was a little amused at the incongruity of the thing. Then it
began to seem to me inexpressibly touching.

The Superintendent of Schools stood with a cold, supercilious grin on his
face, a stern, self-sufficient man, not one likely to echo the spirit of
these simple words.

I stood beside him, weary and perplexed enough, but ever taking counsel
of the pride of my own heart. And those poor children, with their hard,
toilsome, barren lives before them, how they sang! their clear, young
voices ringing out fearlessly, carelessly--they knew the words. I
wondered if any one in the room appreciated the song as having inner
truth and meaning.

As I was locking my desk, before leaving the room, I discovered