n you smell tar and see fedders, you vill change
your mind," answered Carl.

The schoolmaster smiled. The pallor of fear which had surprised him for
an instant, had vanished.

"I believe in a different creed from Mr. Stackridge's, honest man as he
is. I shall not resist evil, but overcome evil with good, if I can; if I
cannot, I shall suffer it."

"You show you vill shoot some of 'em, and they vill let you go," said
Carl, not understanding the nobler doctrine. "Shooting vill do some of
them willains some good!" his placid blue eyes kindling, as if he would
like to do a little of the shooting. "You take it?"

"No," said the young man, firmly. "Such weapons are not for me."

"Wery vell!" Carl buttoned his jacket over the revolver. "Then you come
mit me, if you please. Get out of the vinder and run. That is pest, I
suppose."

"No, no, my lad. I may as well meet these men first as last."

"Then I vill go and pring help!" suddenly exclaimed, the boy; and away
he scampered across the fields, leaving the young man alone in the
darkening school-room.

It was not a very pleasant situation to be in, you may well believe. As
he closed the sash, a faint odor of tar was wafted in on the evening
breeze. The voices of the ruffians at the door grew louder and more
menacing. He knew they were only waiting for the tar to heat, for the
shadows of night to thicken, and for him to make his appearance. He
returned to his desk, but it was now too dark to write. He could barely
see to sign his name and superscribe the envelope. This done, he
buttoned his straight-fitting brown coat, put on his modest hat, and
stood pondering in his mind what he should do.

A young man scarcely twenty years old, reared in the quiet atmosphere of
a community of Friends, and as unaccustomed, hitherto, to scenes of
strife and violence as the most innocent child,--such was Penn Hapgood,
teacher of the "Academy" (as the school was proudly named) in
Curryville. This was the first great trial of his faith and courage. He
had not taken Carl's advice, and run, because he did not believe that he
could escape the danger in that way. And as for fighting, that was not
in his heart any more than it was in his creed. But to say he did not
dread to meet his foes at the door, that he felt no fear, would be
speaking falsely. He was afraid. His entire nature, delicate body and
still more delicate soul, shrank from the ordeal. He went to the outer
door, and laid his han