early wild bee against the sunlit pane, and even in the
stuffy familiar odor of the place,--the odor of apples and crumbs of
doughnuts and gingerbread in the dinner pails on the high entry nails,
and of all the little gowns and trousers that had brushed through
junipers and young pines on their way to school.

The bee left his prisoning pane at last, and came over to the
Mayflowers, which were in full bloom, although the season was very
late, and deep in the woods there were still some graybacked
snowdrifts, speckled with bits of bark and moss from the trees above.

"Come, come, Ezra!" urged the young teacher, rapping her desk sharply.
"Stop watchin' that common bee! You know well enough what those
letters spell. You won't learn to read at this rate until you are a
grown man. Mind your book, now; you ought to remember who went to this
school when he was a little boy. You've heard folks tell about the
Honorable Joseph K. Laneway? He used to be in primer just as you are
now, and 't wasn't long before he was out of it, either, and was
called the smartest boy in school. He's got to be a general and a
Senator, and one of the richest men out West. You don't seem to have
the least mite of ambition to-day, any of you!"

The exhortation, entirely personal in the beginning, had swiftly
passed to a general rebuke. Ezra looked relieved, and the other
children brightened up as they recognized a tale familiar to their
ears. Anything was better than trying to study in that dull last hour
of afternoon school.

"Yes," continued Miss Hender, pleased that she had at last roused
something like proper attention, "you all ought to be proud that you
are schoolmates of District Number Four, and can remember that the
celebrated General Laneway had the same early advantages as you, and
think what he has made of himself by perseverance and ambition."

The pupils were familiar enough with the illustrious history of their
noble predecessor. They were sure to be told, in lawless moments, that
if Mr. Laneway were to come in and see them he would be mortified to
death; and the members of the school committee always referred to him,
and said that he had been a poor boy, and was now a self-made
man,--as if every man were not self-made as to his character and
reputation!

At this point, young Johnny Spencer showed his next neighbor, in the
back of his Colburn's Arithmetic, an imaginary portrait of their
district hero, which caused them both to ch