The National tribune., 1901-12-12

with a richer music than any church choir
ever rendered.
1t was very dull to those pioneer chill
dren sitting. on those backless benches
trying to read the hard and to them
meaningless books. y good supply of
spoilers had been obtained, and these
were conned over from morning until
night by the students.
The warm Spring days had called from
the school all the boys and girls large
enough to assist on the newly-made
farms, and the school had dwindled down
to less than a dozen children too small to
work The duties of the schoOl-master
were none the less onerous.
Kin me an Jim go after n bucket Of
water"
The school-master, who had been lost
in silent contemplation for several mo-
ments, raised his sad eyes to the dinin-
utive speaker and answered: Yes, If
you're not gone too long
The two bare-fOOted urchins rose and
went to the bench on which sat the old ce
dar bucket with a gourd in il, and seizing
it hastened out of the house, congratulate
ing themselves on being large enough to
"pack water from the spring" Going
to the spring for bucket of water was
a luxury. To get out Of the close school
room and off those hard, cruel benches,
even for a moment, to stroll among the
delightful green woods, was a JOY un-
speakable. No boy or girl large enough.
TO bring water from the spring ever lost
an opportunity to do so.
When it was brought, then some
other student asked the favor Of passing
the bucket" This being granted, he or
she took the bucket to each student, who
was permitted to dip out a drink, and
then it was returned to the short bench
where il belonged.
Hard. indeed, was the early education
of our foreparents. The science of peda-
gOgics was in the crudest state. and even
had it been perfection the implements at
hand would have been wanting.
Mr.. Van Loon, the educator, with all
his zeal to instruct and elevate the young
Of the frontier, had a motive back of il
all for conducting this school. His hard
life, his sad fate, his own remarkable
career, seemed all absorbed in one object.
lie wanted money, not for the sake of
money, but for a purpose, and that pur
pose the moving, prime object Of his life
Ia his helpless condition he had no
other means of earning money save
schOOl-teaching. Long and patiently had
he waited for the country TO grow sufi-
ciently TO support a school. The time
had come, and though the tuition was
paid chiefly IN furs and deer skins, these
could he sent 10 the nearest trading post
and converted into cash.
Pcltries and fuTs had come in slowly
since Winter, for with the appearance OF
warm weather his school had dwindled
to 4 few, and he was considering the pro-
priety Of giving it up entirely until Au-
tUmn.
Half mile to the northwest Of the
schoUl-hOusc he had made a strong log
pen, or little house, in which was depOs-
TIED his treasure. The little house was
too strong for any wild animal To destroy
1t, and he had no fear Of the ncghbors
robbing him.
Almost daily he went to his treasure
house and fondled those furs and petries
much as a miser might his gold and dia.
monds. He loved those furs not for
themselves, nor for the gold they would
bring, but because they would take him
home.
To 90 home, to meet Bessie once more
was the cherished hope of his life. In
all the long years that had passed since
last he saw her. he could only remember
her as the same pretty girl she had beer
when he last saw ner. He could no
think Of her as a woman whose cheel
might be wrinkled or hair turned gray
"Oh, Bessie, Bessie, | have loved you
long, fond and truep' he murmured wheI
alone. You are waiting for me-wait
ing! and | will come" Then over hi,
sad, hard features would come an ex
preston of tenderness, which seemed K
change the whole manner of the man
de was no longer harsh and grabbed, a,
the pupils sometimes thought him, bu
gentle. kind, sanity.
Carefully he unfastened the strong
stout door of his treasure-house, and en-
.tering it IN 4 stopped position, for the