eaching was so unusual that the years with him made a lasting
impression on his youngest scholar's mind. To Clara it was a real loss
when, at the end of five years, the Colonel left the school, to be
succeeded by Clara's sisters in summer and by her brother Stephen in
winter.

David was Clara's favorite brother. So athletic was he, and so fond of
all forms of out-of-door life and exercise, that he was no less than a
hero to the little sister, who watched him with intense admiration,
and in her secret heart determined that some day and in some way she,
too, would be brave and daring.

Having decided this in her own mind, when David suggested teaching her
to ride, she was delighted, and, hiding her fear, at once took her
first lesson on one of the beautiful blooded colts which were a
feature of her father's farm. In her _Story of My Childhood_ she
says: "It was David's delight to take me, a little girl five years
old, to the field, seize a couple of those beautiful grazing
creatures, broken only to the halter and bit, and, gathering the reins
of both bridles in one hand, throw me on the back of one colt, spring
on the other himself, and, catching me by the foot and bidding me
'cling fast to the mane,' gallop away over field and fen, in and out
among the other colts, in wild glee like ourselves. They were merry
rides we took. This was my riding-school. I never had any other, but
it served me well.... Sometimes in later years when I found myself on
a strange horse, in a troop saddle, flying for life or liberty in
front of pursuit, I blessed the baby lessons of the wild gallops among
the colts."

And so it was that the child grew strong in body and alert in mind,
while the routine of daily farm duties, when she was not at school or
galloping over the fields with David, developed her in concentration
and in inventive ability. Housekeeping at that time was crude, and
most of the necessary articles used were made at home. There were no
matches. The flint snapped by the lock was the only way of lighting a
fire. Garments were homespun, and home-made food was dried, canned and
cooked in large quantities by the busy housekeeper. Although there was
always a fire blazing on the hearth of the home, it was thought to be
a religious duty to have the meeting-house unheated on the Sabbath
day. Little Clara, who was particularly susceptible to cold, bore the
bitter chill of the building as bravely as she could, each week in the
long wi