ghteen; Jim, younger, quicker, and better looking; and two babies
of indefinite age. Then there was Josie herself. She seemed to be
the centre of the family: always busy at service or at home, or
berry-picking; a little nervous and inclined to scold, like her
mother, yet faithful, too, like her father. She had about her a
certain fineness, the shadow of an unconscious moral heroism that would
willingly give all of life to make life broader, deeper, and fuller for
her and hers. I saw much of this family afterward, and grew to love them
for their honest efforts to be decent and comfortable, and for their
knowledge of their own ignorance. There was with them no affectation.
The mother would scold the father for being so "easy;" Josie would
roundly rate the boys for carelessness; and all knew that it was a hard
thing to dig a living out of a rocky side hill.

I secured the school. I remember the day I rode horseback out to the
commissioner's house, with a pleasant young white fellow, who wanted the
white school. The road ran down the bed of a stream; the sun laughed
and the water jingled, and we rode on. "Come in," said the
commissioner,--"come in. Have a seat. Yes, that certificate will do.
Stay to dinner. What do you want a month?" Oh, thought I, this is lucky;
but even then fell the awful shadow of the Veil, for they ate first,
then I--alone.

The schoolhouse was a log hut, where Colonel Wheeler used to shelter
his corn. It sat in a lot behind a rail fence and thorn bushes, near the
sweetest of springs. There was an entrance where a door once was, and
within, a massive rickety fireplace; great chinks between the logs
served as windows. Furniture was scarce. A pale blackboard crouched in
the corner. My desk was made of three boards, reinforced at critical
points, and my chair, borrowed from the landlady, had to be returned
every night. Seats for the children,--these puzzled me much. I was
haunted by a New England vision of neat little desks and chairs, but,
alas, the reality was rough plank benches without backs, and at
times without legs. They had the one virtue of making naps
dangerous,--possibly fatal, for the floor was not to be trusted.

It was a hot morning late in July when the school opened. I trembled
when I heard the patter of little feet down the dusty road, and saw the
growing row of dark solemn faces and bright eager eyes facing me. First
came Josie and her brothers and sisters. The longing to know, to be a