he was its
master--his diminutive kingdom wherein he was king; and within the
boundary of this chosen realm his sway was absolute.

First the "Soldier-Schoolmaster," drilling his boy-pupils; then the
Soldier of the Saddle, riding through shot and shell and war's fierce
din on Virginia's historic fields; and last, but perhaps not least, the
"Soldier-Author," winning golden opinions from press and people; through
all these changes of his life, from boy to man, one characteristic shows
plain and clear--his military bent. It is like the one bright stripe
through a neutral ground, the one vein of ore deposit through the
various stratifications of its native rock.

The Edwards Select School was continued until the first of November,
when Glazier left home once more, this time in company with his sister
Marjorie, bound for Troy. On arriving at that city he left his sister at
the house of an old friend, Alexander McCoy, and went down into
Rensselaer County a second time in search of a school, or rather two
schools--one for his sister as well as one for himself. He succeeded in
obtaining both of them on the same day, and went back to Troy that
night. His own district was East Schodack, near Schodack Centre, where
he had previously taught, and his sister secured the school two miles
north of the village of Castleton and six miles distant from Albany.

The little school-house near Castleton, where his sister taught, was
located in a lovely spot on a height overlooking the Hudson and
commanding a fine view of the river and the surrounding scenery.

During the school term in their respective districts, it was Willard
Glazier's habit to visit his sister once a week, on Saturday or Sunday,
and on several occasions a gentleman living at East Schodack, William
Westfall by name, who owned a fine horse and sleigh, loaned him the use
of his conveyance to drive to Castleton and return. The sleigh was
provided with warm robes of fur and the horse was beyond doubt spirited,
and a handsome specimen of the genus horse. But as we cannot look for
absolute perfection in anything pertaining to earth, it may be stated
that this animal was no exception to the universal rule. He had his
fault, as young Glazier discovered--a disagreeable habit of running
away every time he saw a train of cars. Perhaps the horse couldn't help
it; it was no doubt an inherited disposition, descended to him through
long lines of fractious ancestors, and therefore it nee