turned electric and
horse cars into nuisances, filled the streets and the railroad
stations with impatient grumblers, had only one single redeeming
thing, the beauty of its scenery, and a certain weird, uncanny feeling
it brought of being suddenly taken out of a familiar world and dropped
into one the like of which was never even imagined before.

There was one part of the community, however, that looked upon it with
great favor.

"Now for the jolliest of sleigh-rides!" said a clique of Atherton
boys. "Hurra for old Jerry Downer! We'll make him turn out this
time!"

The roads between the two places were soon well worn, and not two days
after the astonished world had waked to its surprise, Samuel Ray's
best sleigh was hired, four extra sets of bells promised for the four
horses, and a thoroughly organized "spree" was decided upon.

It was no use to ask Jerry to help them in any thing contrary to the
rules; but through him they might convey to certain girls there the
knowledge of their coming, and their plans for the evening. They would
give Jerry a note to his sister; she would hand it to Mamie Smythe;
and, once in her possession, the whole thing would take care of
itself.

The bells were taken off from the horses and put carefully away in the
bottom of the sleigh before it left the stable; the boys did not have
it driven to the dormitories, as it did when they had a licensed ride,
but met it at Wilbur's Corner.

They had a ready reason for this, and for the absence of the bells
when Jerry noticed and inquired about them. It would not do to give
him the least occasion to suspect them.

It was a beautiful night, with a bright moon making the cold landscape
clearer and colder. There wasn't a young heart in either of these two
educational towns that would not have leaped with joy over the
pleasure of a sleigh-ride then and there.

A very merry ride the boys had as soon as they had cleared the thickly
settled part of the town, breaking out into college songs, glees,
snatches of wild music that the buoyant air caught up and carried on
over the long reaches of the ghost-like road before them.

Jerry had a fine baritone voice, and he loved music. How he led tune
after tune was a marvel and a delight. As they passed solitary
farmhouses, where only a light shone from a back kitchen window, the
quiet people there would drop their work and listen as the sleigh
dashed by.

When the party reached Montrose, Jerry was tol