e schoolmaster's work in the elevation of a people."

The next dwelling they approached was very small and mean-looking. It
seemed to Horace Danforth to contain only one apartment, warmed by an
ill-constructed clay chimney, and lighted by one small, square window.
That window, however, was not only sashed and glazed, but shaded by a
plain muslin curtain.

"Here," said Mr. Grahame, "lives one of those pupils of whom I spoke
just now. He has commenced life with nothing but the plot of ground you
see, and having a wife to support, he must work hard, yet already he is
aiming at something more than the supply of merely physical wants; and I
doubt not he will, should he live long enough, become the intelligent
and wealthy father of a well-educated family."

They were approaching the house as Mr. Grahame spoke. Near it was a
small field, in which a man was hoeing.

"How is your wife, Martin?" asked Mr. Grahame.

"Oh, thank you, sir, she is quite smart. She's been getting better ever
since the night Miss Mary sat up with her last. We say she always brings
good luck."

"And how are your potatoes?"

"How could they help but be good, sir, with such grand seed as you gave
me? Tell Miss Mary, if you please, sir, that the rose-tree is growing
finely, and that as soon as I can get time to put up the fence, Sally is
to have the flower-garden she talked about."

"I am glad to hear it, Martin; if you are brisk you may have some
flowers yet before frost. I will bring you some seeds the next time I
come."

"Do you procure your seeds from the East, or is it the result of your
superior cultivation, that you are able thus to supply your neighbors?"
asked Horace Danforth of Mr. Grahame, as they rode on.

"The potatoes were from my own field, raised from the seed two years
ago. The grass and flower seeds were from my agent at the East. These
little favors win for my daughter and myself considerable influence over
our neighbors, and thus facilitate our attainment of the object for
which we have pitched our tent in the wilderness, and accepted those
labors which you justly regard as distasteful in themselves."

The return home of Mr. Grahame and his visitor, their dinner and
afternoon engagements, offer nothing worthy of our notice. It was not
till the labors of the day had been concluded, and the little party were
gathered again before a cheerful fire in the parlor, that the subject of
the morning's conversation was resumed. As Mary