OSTON TILICUM.

Marlowe Mann--"Boston tilicum," as the Siwashes called all the
missionaries, teachers, and traders from the East--sat down upon a bench
of split log and leaned upon his desk, which consisted of two split logs
in a rough frame. A curious school confronted him. His pupils numbered
fifteen, representing Germany, England, Sweden, New England, and the
Indian race.

"The world will some day come to the Yankee schoolmaster," he used to say
to the bowery halls of old Cambridge; and this prophecy, which had come to
him on the banks of the Charles, seemed indeed to be beginning to be
fulfilled on the Columbia.

He opened the school in the same serene and scholarly manner as he would
have done in a school in Cambridge.

"He is not a true gentleman who is not one under all conditions and
circumstances," was one of his views of a well-clothed character; and this
morning he addressed the school with the courtesy of an old college
professor.

"I have come here," he said, "with but one purpose, and that is to try to
teach you things which will do you the most good in life. That is always
the best which will do the most good; all else is inferior. I shall first
teach you to obey your sense of right in all things. This is the first
principle of a true education. You will always know the way of life if you
have this principle for your guide.

"Conscience is the first education. A man's spiritual nature is his
highest nature, and his spiritual concerns transcend all others. If a man
is spiritually right, he is the master of all things. I would impress
these truths on your minds, and teach them at the beginning. I have become
willing to be poor, and to walk life's ways alone. The pilot of the Argo
never returned from Colchis, but the Argo itself returned with the Golden
Fleece. It may be so with my work; if so, I will be content. I have
selected for our Scripture lesson the 'incorruptible seed.'"

He rose and spoke like one before an august assembly; and so it was to
him, with his views of the future of the great empire of the Northwest. A
part of the pupils could not comprehend all that he said any more than
they had understood the allusion to the pilot of the Argo; but his manner
was so gracious, so earnest, so inspired, that they all felt the spirit of
it, and some had come to regard themselves as the students of some great
destiny.

"Older domes than the pyramids are looking down upon you," he said, "and
you