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are but trophies in the foaming triumph of its onward course. You can do what you will; and you will aim high. Aim at the highest.

"I am aiming as hard as I can, and so fast that I can't see whether my arrows hit. Not at the capture of any pretty face, -though there are a few here that would be prizes worth capturing; but really I am not skilled in that kind of archery and on the whole am not quite ready for it. An archer needs to be better equipped, to enter those lists with any chance of success, than alas! I am at present. I am aiming hard at the dressing up of my mind, in the sincere hope that the dressing up of my person may have some place in the after-piece. In other words, I am so busy that I don't know what I am doing. Asphodel was a miserable place (though I am very glad you are in it)-my chances of success at Little River are much better. Indeed I am very much to my mind here; were I, as I said, a little better equipped outwardly, and if my aunt Landholm only had mamma's recipe for making pumpkin pies; or, as an alternative, had the pumpkin crop this season but failed. But alas! the huge number of the copper-coloured tribe that lurked among the corn forests a few weeks ago, forbid me to hope for any respite till St. Nicholas jogs my aunt L.'s elbow.

"I have left myself no room to say with how much delight I received your letter, nor with what satisfaction I think of you as having fairly started in the race. You have entered your plough, now, Governor, quick, quick, for the other side.

"Thine in the dearest rivalry,


"All manner of love to mamma, papa, and the little ones, from Will."

In another corner,-" I am sorry Mr. Haye makes so little stay at Asphodel at this time-you will not see anything of him, nor of his place."

"I can bear that," thought Winthrop.

He was much too busy to see men or places. One fortnight was given to the diligent study of Algebra; two other little fortnights to Latin; and then his father came and took him home, sooner than he expected. But he had "entered his plough."

Yet it was hard to leave it there just entered; and the ride home was rather a thoughtful one. Little his father knew what he had been about. He thought his son had been "getting a

little schooling;" he had no notion he had begun to fit himself for College!

Just as they reached the river, at a little hamlet under the hill at the foot of the north bay, where the road branched off to skirt the face of the tableland towards the home promontory, the wagon was stopped by Mr. Underhill. He came forward and unceremoniously rested both arms upon the tire of the fore


"Mornin'. Where' you been?"

"A little way back. 'Been to Asphodel, to fetch my son Winthrop home.""

"Asphodel?that's a good way back, ain't it?"

"Well, a dozen miles or so," said Mr. Landholm laughing. "Has he been to the 'cademy too?"

"Yes-for a little while back, he has."

"What are you going to make of your sons, neighbour Landholm?"

"Ah !—I don't know," said Mr. Landholm, touching his whip gently first on one side and then on the other side of his off horse;" I can't make much of 'em-they've got to make themselves."

Neighbour Underhill gave a sharp glance at Winthrop and then came back again.

"What do you reckon's the use of all this edication, farmer?" "O-I guess it has its uses," said Mr. Landholm, smiling a little bit.

"Well, do you s'pose these boys are goin' to be smarter men than you and I be?"

"I hope so."

"You do! Well, drive on!" said he, taking his arms from the top of the wheel. But then replacing them before the wagon had time to move

"Where's Will?

"Will? he's at Little River-doing well, as I hear."

"Doing what? getting himself ready for College yet?"

"Yes he isn't ready yet."

"I say, neighbour,-it takes a power of time to get these fellows ready to begin, don't it?"

"Yes," said Mr. Landholm with a sigh.

"After they're gone you calculate to do all the work yourself, I s'pose?"

"O I've only lost one yet," said Mr. Landholm shaking the reins; "and he'll help take care of me by and by, I expect.Come!"

Again the other's hands slipped off the wheel, and again were put back.

"We're goin' to do without larnin' here," said he. "Lost our schoolmaster."

"That fellow Dolts gone?"

"Last week."

"What's the matter?"

"The place and him didn't fit somewheres, I s'pose; at least I don't know what 'twas if 'twa'n't that."

"What are you going to do?"

"Play marbles, I guess,-till some one comes along."

"Well, my hands 'll be too cold to play marbles, if I sit here much longer," said Mr. Landholm laughing. "Good day to ye!"

And the wheel unclogged, they drove on.


To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING


LITTLE could be done in the winter. The days were short and full of employment; all the more for Will's absence. What with threshing wheat and oats, foddering cattle, and dressing flax, driving to mill, cutting wood, and clearing snow, there was no time for Virgil during the few hours of daylight; hardly time to repeat a Latin verb. The evenings were long and bright, and the kitchen cosy. But there were axe-helves to dress out, and oars, and ox-yokes; and corn to shell, and hemp to hackle; and at whichever corner of the fireplace Winthrop might set himself down, a pair of little feet would come pattering round him, and petitions, soft but strong, to cut an apple, or to play jackstraws, or to crack hickory nuts, or to roast chestnuts, were sure to be preferred; and if none of these, or if these were put off, there was still too much of that sweet companionship to suit with the rough road to learning. Winnie was rarely put off, and never rejected. And the little garret room used by Winthrop and Will when the latter was at home, and now by Winthrop alone, was too freezing cold when he went up to bed to allow him more than a snatch at his longed-for work. A few words, a line or two, were all that could be managed with safety to life; and the books had to be shut up again, with bitter mortification that it must be so soon. The winter passed and Virgil was not read. The spring brought longer days, and more to do in them.

"Father," said Winthrop one night, "they have got no one yet in Mr. Dolts' place."

"What, at Mountain Spring? I know they haven't. The foolish man thought twelve dollars a month wa'n't enough for him, I suppose."

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Why was he foolish, Mr. Landholm?"

"Because he greatly misstated his own value-which it isn't the part of a wise man to do. I know he wasn't worth twelve dollars."

"Do you think I am worth more than that, sir?"

"I don't know what you're worth," said his father goodhumouredly. "I should be sorry to put a price upon you." "Why, Winthrop?"-his mother said more anxiously. "Will you let me take Mr. Dolts' place, father?"

"His place? What, in the schoolhouse?"

"Yes sir. If I can get it, I mean."

"What for?"

"The twelve dollars a month would hire a man to do my work on the farm."

"Yes, and I say, what for? What do you want it for?" "I think perhaps I might get more time to myself.”

"Time ?-for what?"

"Time to study, sir."

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"To study!-Teach others that you may teach yourself, eh? said Mr. Landholm, with a breath that was drawn very much like a sigh; and he was silent and looked grave.

"I am afraid you wouldn't like it, Winthrop," said his mother seriously.

"I should like the time, mamma."

"I wish I were a little richer," said Mr. Landholm, drawing his breath," and my sons should have a better chance. I am willing to work both my hands off-if that would be of any avail. You may do as you please, my dear, about the school. I'll not stand in your way."

"The twelve dollars would pay a man who would do as much work as I could, father."

"Yes, yes, that's all straight enough."

"Is Winthrop going to teach school?" exclaimed Asahel.
"Perhaps so."

"Then I should go to school to Winthrop," said the little boy clapping his hands,-"shouldn't I, mamma? Wouldn't it be funny?"

"I too?" cried Winifred.

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Hush, hush. Hear what your father says."

"I am only sorry you should have to resort to such expedi


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