ortune of our little hero to be surrounded, the
prejudice was strong as ever; and the ambitious boy, in dreaming out
for himself a life of fame and honor, saw before him, as an obstacle
hardly possible of being surmounted, a collegiate education.

For months he had kept the project a secret in his own heart, and had
daily, and almost hourly, gone over and over again, every difficulty
which presented itself. He saw at once that he could expect no aid
from his father, for he knew the constant struggle going on in the
household to narrow increasing expenses to their humble means. His
elder brother, Stephen, would even oppose the plan--for, he being very
like their father, was plodding and industrious, content with the
present hour, and heartily despised books and schools, as being
entirely beneath his notice. His mother would, he hoped, aid him by
her approval and encouragement--this was all _she_ could bestow; and
Mary, however willing, had not more to offer. At length he resolved to
tell his sister, who had ever been his counsellor, the project which
he had so long cherished.

"I am not selfish about it," said he, as he dilated upon the success
which he felt sure would be his, could this first stumbling-block but
be removed. "Think how much I could do for you all. Father would be
relieved from the burden of supporting me, for he does not need my
assistance now, the farm is so small, and Ed is growing old enough to
do all my work. Then you should have a capital education, for you
ought to have it; and you could teach a school that would be more to
the purpose than the district school. After I had helped you all, then
I could work for myself; and mother would be so proud of her son. But,
oh! Mary," and the boy's heart sank within him, "I know it can never
be."

The two, brother and sister, as they sat there together, were a fair
illustration of the "dreamer and the worker." Mary was scarce fifteen,
but she was thoughtful beyond her years, yet as hopeful as the child.
"Yes, I could keep school," thought she, as she looked into her
brother's earnest eyes. "What can hinder my keeping school now; and
the money I can earn, with James having his vacations to work in,
might support him."

But with this thought came another. She knew that the pay given to
district schoolteachers--women especially--was at best a bare
pittance, scarce more than sufficient for herself--for she could not
think of burdening her parents with her ma