going to school and
settle down to work on a farm? Many young folks at his age think they
are very badly treated if they are not permitted to have some toy or
story book, or other thing on which they have set their hearts; and
older boys and girls, too, are apt to pout and frown if their whims are
not gratified. But Theodore's parents were very poor, and could not
even indulge his longing to go to school.

Did he give up his dreams of being a great man? Not a bit of it. He did
not even cry or utter a complaint, but manfully resolved that he would
do everything he could "to help father," and then, "when winter comes,"
he thought, "I shall be able to go to school again." Bravely the little
fellow toiled through the beautiful springtide, though his wistful
glances were often turned in the direction of the schoolhouse. But he
resolutely bent to his work and renewed his resolve that he would be
educated. As spring deepened into summer, the work on the farm grew
harder and harder, but Theodore rejoiced that the flight of each season
brought winter nearer.

At length autumn had vanished; the fruits of the spring and summer's
toil had been gathered; the boy was free to go to his beloved studies
again. And oh, how he reveled in the few books at his command in the
village school! How eagerly he trudged across the fields, morning after
morning, to the schoolhouse, where he always held first place in his
class! Blustering winds and fierce snowstorms had no terrors for the
ardent student. His only sorrow was that winter was all too short, and
the days freighted with the happiness of regular study slipped all too
quickly by. But the kind-hearted schoolmaster lent him books, so that,
when spring came round again, and the boy had to go back to work, he
could pore over them in his odd moments of relaxation. As he patiently
plodded along, guiding the plow over the rough earth, he recited the
lessons he had learned during the brief winter season, and after
dinner, while the others rested awhile from their labors, Theodore
eagerly turned the pages of one of his borrowed books, from which he
drank in deep draughts of delight and knowledge. Early in the summer
mornings, before the regular work began, and late in the evening, when
the day's tasks had all been done, he read and re-read his treasured
volumes until he knew them from cover to cover.

Then he was confronted with a difficulty. He had begun to study Latin,
but found it impossible