ynes will read them aloud to my little partner
and in doing so get some enjoyment and profit for yourselves.

"Yours respectfully,
S. WRIGHT, JR.

"P.S.--When the contents of the box has duly risen into your minds,
will you kindly see that it does a like service to your neighbors
in School District No. 7? S.W., JR."

"I guess Bart has made a friend o' this great man--sartin ayes!" said
Aunt Deel. "I wonder who'll be the next one."

CHAPTER V

IN THE LIGHT OF THE CANDLES

I remember that I tried to walk and talk like Silas Wright after that
day. He had a way of twisting little locks of his hair between his thumb
and finger when he sat thinking. I practised that trick of his when I
was alone and unobserved.

One day I was walking up and down, as I had seen Mr. Wright do, and
talking to my friend "Baynes," when Aunt Deel called to me that I should
bring the candle molds from the shed. I was keeper of the molds and
greatly enjoyed the candle-making. First we strung the wicks on slender
wooden rods--split and whittled by Uncle Peabody and me as we sat down
by the stove in the evening. Then the wicks were let down into tin
molds, each of which ended in a little inverted cone with a hole through
its point. We carefully worked the wick ends through these perforations
and drew them tight. When the mold was ready we poured in the melted
tallow, which hardened in a few minutes. Later, by pulling the wooden
rods, we loosened the candles and drew them out of the molds. They were
as smooth and white as polished alabaster. With shears we trimmed the
wick ends. The iron candlesticks were filled and cleaned of drippings
and set on the little corner shelf above the sink.

When night fell again and the slender white shaft, rising above its base
of iron, was crowned with yellow flame, I can think of nothing more
beautiful in color, shape and symbolism. It was the torch of liberty and
learning in the new world--a light-house on the shore of the great deep.

The work of the day ended, the candles were grouped near the edge of the
table and my aunt's armchair was placed beside them. Then I sat on Uncle
Peabody's lap by the fire or, as time went on, in my small chair beside
him, while Aunt Deel adjusted her spectacles and began to read.

At last those of wearied bones and muscles had sat down to look abroad
with the mind's eye. Their reason began to concern itself with problems
beyond the