my senses (for the fall had very thoroughly stunned me)
I found it about four o'clock in the morning. I lay outstretched where
I had fallen from the balloon. My head groveled in the ashes of an
extinguished fire, while my feet reposed upon the wreck of a small
table, overthrown, and amid the fragments of a miscellaneous dessert,
intermingled with a newspaper, some broken glasses and shattered
bottles, and an empty jug of the Schiedam Kirschenwaesser. Thus
revenged himself the Angel of the Odd.

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S PROGRESS

By Caroline M.S. Kirkland (1801-1864)

[From _The Gift_ for 1845, published late in 1844. Republished in the
volume, _Western Clearings_ (1845), by Caroline M.S. Kirkland.]

Master William Horner came to our village to school when he was about
eighteen years old: tall, lank, straight-sided, and straight-haired,
with a mouth of the most puckered and solemn kind. His figure and
movements were those of a puppet cut out of shingle and jerked by a
string; and his address corresponded very well with his appearance.
Never did that prim mouth give way before a laugh. A faint and misty
smile was the widest departure from its propriety, and this
unaccustomed disturbance made wrinkles in the flat, skinny cheeks like
those in the surface of a lake, after the intrusion of a stone. Master
Horner knew well what belonged to the pedagogical character, and that
facial solemnity stood high on the list of indispensable
qualifications. He had made up his mind before he left his father's
house how he would look during the term. He had not planned any smiles
(knowing that he must "board round"), and it was not for ordinary
occurrences to alter his arrangements; so that when he was betrayed
into a relaxation of the muscles, it was "in such a sort" as if he was
putting his bread and butter in jeopardy.

Truly he had a grave time that first winter. The rod of power was new
to him, and he felt it his "duty" to use it more frequently than might
have been thought necessary by those upon whose sense the privilege
had palled. Tears and sulky faces, and impotent fists doubled fiercely
when his back was turned, were the rewards of his conscientiousness;
and the boys--and girls too--were glad when working time came round
again, and the master went home to help his father on the farm.

But with the autumn came Master Horner again, dropping among us as
quietly as the faded leaves, and awakening at least as much serious
reflec