oposed paying a tuition fee, to which we all consented, reserving
to ourselves the right of taking those who might desire to attend and
not be able to pay; and through their really generous contributions in
this way, when Burton Brown came to assume the duties of a schoolmaster,
there was a fund sufficient to pay him well for his services.

We named this the Turner Fund, although Jane insisted it should be
_De_mond.

John desired to donate his gift from Aunt Hildy to the Turner Fund, but
Louis objected, saying:

"John, you have no right to do this; you need to get a house for
yourself before you help others. It would not be right to take your
money, and we cannot accept it."

Matthias says:

"'Pears like I kin tote ober to de 'Plot' an' tinker roun' thar wid de
chilun. John's done boun' I shan't do no moah work, an' I can't stop
still no how, for it 'pears like I'm dead 'fore de time."

He made himself wonderfully useful there, and the children loved him.
John got along splendidly, and bought the saw-mill; for Ben, although
better, could not do any work at the mill, and John was very glad to own
it.

I am ashamed to say that now and then a small-souled individual would
ventilate his miserable prejudices, and expressions like the following
came to our ears:

"Wonder what'll happen if the niggers all get free; got one for a
saw-mill owner already;" all of which fell, to be sure, at John's feet
with an ignorant thud. Still, when we looked at him and realized his
noble nature, it seemed too bad to think there could be one such word
spoken.

How fortunate it is that our hearts do naturally retain the perfume of
the roses, and forget the presence of the thorns! The wiser we grow the
more natural we become; and on the rock of truth we can stand, feeling
no jar, when the missiles of a grovelling mind are hurled against its
base. When we get tired, however, and are forced by the pressure of
material circumstances to wander down into the valley, while we stand
even then in the shelter of our mountain, still we find our feet
sometimes soiled by the gathered mud.

Here is where the weak-hearted of our earth fail, and, looking not to
the mountains, become at last settled in the valley, and suffer even to
the end, borne down by the fettering chains of a life which is, at best,
only breathing. Their wings held close, they cannot rise beyond the
clouds and fog into the clearer atmosphere of a higher condition.

My fortie