ns. He surveyed land, and ran lines for the farmers, earning a
little here and a little there. As fast as he obtained a dollar, it went
to pay the debts. As the seasons passed away,--spring, summer, and
autumn,--Paul could see that the wolf howled less fiercely day by day.
He denied himself everything, except plain food. He was tall, stout,
hearty, and rugged. The winds gave him health; his hands were hard, but
his heart was tender. When through with his day's work, though his bones
ached and his eyes were drowsy, he seldom went to sleep without first
studying awhile, and closing with a chapter from the Bible, for he
remembered what his grandfather often said,--that a chapter from the
Bible was a good thing to sleep on.

The cool and bracing breezes of November, the nourishing food which Paul
obtained, brought the color once more to his mother's cheeks; and when
at length she was able to be about the house, they had a jubilee,--a
glad day of thanksgiving,--for, in addition to this blessing of health,
Paul had killed the wolf, and the debts were all paid.

As the winter came on, the subject of employing Mr. Rhythm to teach a
singing-school was discussed. Mr. Quaver, a tall, slim man, with a long,
red nose, had led the choir for many years. He had a loud voice, and
twisted his words so badly, that his singing was like the blare of a
trumpet. On Sundays, after Rev. Mr. Surplice read the hymn, the people
were accustomed to hear a loud Hawk! from Mr. Quaver, as he tossed his
tobacco-quid into a spittoon, and an Ahem! from Miss Gamut. She was the
leading first treble, a small lady with a sharp, shrill voice. Then Mr.
Fiddleman sounded the key on the bass-viol, do-mi-sol-do, helping the
trebles and tenors climb the stairs of the scale; then he hopped down
again, and rounded off with a thundering swell at the bottom, to let
them know he was safely down, and ready to go ahead. Mr. Quaver led, and
the choir followed like sheep, all in their own way and fashion.

The people had listened to this style of music till they were tired of
it. They wanted a change, and decided to engage Mr. Rhythm, a nice young
man, to teach a singing-school for the young folks. "We have a hundred
boys and girls here in the village, who ought to learn to sing, so that
they can sit in the singing-seats, and praise God," said Judge Adams.

But Mr. Quaver opposed the project. "The young folks want a frolic,
sir," he said; "yes, sir, a frolic, a high time.