own　and　its　miser　who　got　all　the　applause。
  While　working　his　joy　was　unconfined。　Many　a　time　I　have　sat　and　watched　him　in　his　little　shop；　its　window　dim　with　cobwebs。　Sometimes　he　would　stop　whistling　and　cackle　heartily　as　he　worked　his　plane　or　drew　his　pencil　to　the　square。　I　have　even　seen　him　drop　his　tools　and　give　his　undivided　attention　to　laughter。　He　did　not　like　to　be　interrupted　…　he　loved　his　own　company　the　best　while　he　was　'doin'　business'。　I　went　one　day　when　he　was　singing　the　two　lines　and　their　quaint　chorus　which　was　all　he　ever　sang　in　my　hearing；　which　gave　him　great　relief；　I　have　no　doubt；　when　lip　weary　with　whistling：
  Sez　I　'Dan'l　Skinner；　I　thank　yer　mighty　mean　　To　send　me　up　the　river；　With　a　sev'n　　dollar　team'　Lul…ly；ul…　ly；diddie　ul…　ly；　diddleul　…　lydee；　Oh；　lul…ly；　ul　…　ly；　diddle　ul　…　ly；　diddle　　ul　…　ly　dee。
  'Mr　Rollin！'　I　said。
  Yes　siree；'　said　he；　pausing　in　the　midst　of　his　chorus　to　look　up　at　me。
  'Where　can　I　get　a　piece　of　yellow　pine？'
  'See　'n　a　minute；'　he　said。　Then　he　continued　his　sawing　and　his　song；　'　〃Says　I　Dan　SItinner；　I　thank　yer　mighty　mean〃…　what　d'　ye　want　it　fer？'　he　asked　stopping　abruptly。
  'Going　to　make　a　ruler；'　I　answered。
  '〃T'　sen'　me　up　the　river　with　a　seven　dollar　team；'；'　he　went　on；　picking　out　a　piece　of　smooth　planed　lumber；　and　handing　it　to　me。
  'How　much　is　it　worth？'　I　enquired。
  He　whistled　a　moment　as　he　surveyed　it　carefully。
  ''Bout　one　cent；'　he　answered　seriously。
  I　handed　him　the　money　and　sat　down　awhile　to　watch　him　as　he　went　on　with　his　work。　It　was　the　cheapest　amusement　I　have　yet　enjoyed。　Indeed　Sol　Rollin　became　a　dissipation；　a　subtle　and　seductive　habit　that　grew　upon　me　and　on　one　pretext　or　another　I　went　every　Saturday　to　the　shop　if　I　had　not　gone　home。
  'What　ye　goin'　t'　be？'
  He　stopped　his　saw；　and　looked　at　me；　waiting　for　my　answer。
  At　last　the　tirne　had　come　when　I　must　declare　myself　and　I　did。
  'A　journalist；'　I　replied。
  'What's　that？'　he　enquired　curiously。
  'An　editor；'　I　said。
  'A　printer　man？'
  'A　printer　man。'
  'Huh！'　said　he。　'Mebbe　I'll　give　ye　a　job。　Sairey　tol'　me　I'd　orter　t'　'ave　some　cards　printed。　I'll　want　good　plain　print：　Solomon　Rollin；　Cappenter　'n　J'iner；　lilillsborough；　NY　…　soun's　putty　good　don't　it。'
  'Beautiful；'　I　answered。
  'I'll　git　a　big　lot　on　'em；'　he　said。　'I'll　want　one　for　Sister　Susan　'at's　out　in　Minnesoty　…　no；　I　guess　I'll　send　'er　tew；　so　she　can　give　one　away　…　an'　one　fer　my　brother；　Eliphalet；　an'　one　apiece　fer　my　three　cousins　over　'n　Vermont；　an'　one　fer　my　Aunt　Mirandy。　Le's　see…tew　an'　one　is　three　an'　three　is　six　an'　one　is　seven。　Then　I'll　git　a　few　struck　off　fer　the　folks　here　…　guess　they'll　thank　I'm　gittin'　up　'n　the　world。'
  He　shook　and　snickered　with　anticipation　of　the　glory　of　it。　Pure　vanity　inspired　him　in　the　matter　and　it　had　in　it　no　vulgar　consideration　of　business　policy。　He　whistled　a　lively　tune　as　he　bent　to　his　work　again。
  'Yer　sister　says　ye're　a　splendid　scholar！'　said　he。　'Hear'n　'er　braggin'　'bout　ye　t'other　night；　she　thinks　a　good　deal　o'　her　brother；　I　can　tell　ye。　Guess　I　know　what　she's　gain'　t'　give　ye　Crissmus。'
  'What's　that？'　I　asked；　with　a　curiosity　more　youthll　than　becoming。
  'Don't　ye　never　let　on；'　said　he。
  'Never；'　said　I。
  'Hear'n　'em　tell；'　he　said；'　'twas　a　gol'　lockup；　with　'er　pictur'　in　it'
  'Oh；　a　locket！'　I　exclaimed。
  'That's　it；'　he　replied；　'an'　pure　gol'；　too。'
  I　turned　to　go。
  'Hope　she'll　grow　up　a　savin'　woman；'　he　remarked。　''Fraid　she　won't　never　be　very　good　t'　worlt'
  'Why　not？'　I　enquired。
  'Han's　are　too　little　an'　white；'　he　answered。
  'She　won't　have　to；'　I　said。
  He　cackled　uproariously　for　a　moment；　then　grew　serious。
  'Her　father's　rich；'　he　said；　'the　richest　man　o'　Faraway；　an　I　guess　she　won't　never　hev　anything　t'　dew　but　set'n　sing　an'　play　the　melodium。'
  'She　can　do　as　she　likes；'　I　said。
  He　stood　a　moment　looking　down　as　if　meditating　on　the　delights　he　had　pictured。
  'Gol！'　he　exclaimed　suddenly。
  My　subject　had　begun　to　study　me；　and　I　came　away　to　escape　further　examination。
  Chapter　18
  I　ought　to　say　that　I　have　had　and　shall　have　to　chronicle　herein　much　that　would　seem　to　indicate　a　mighty　conceit　of　myself。　Unfortunately　the　little　word　'I'　throws　a　big　shadow　in　this　history。　It　looms　up　all　too　frequendy　in　every　page　for　the　sign　of　a　modest　man。　But；　indeed；　I　cannot　help　it；　for　he　was　the　only　observer　of　all　there　is　to　tell。　Now　there　is　much；　for　example；　in　the　very　marrow　of　my　history　…　things　that　never　would　have　happened；　things　that　never　would　have　been　said；　but　for　my　fame　as　a　scholar。　My　learning　was　of　small　account；　for；　it　must　be　remembered；　I　am　writing　of　a　time　when　any　degree　of　scholarship　was　counted　remarkable　among　the　simple　folk　of　Faraway。
  Hope　took　singing　lessons　and　sang　in　church　every　Sunday。　David　or　Uncle　Eb　came　down　for　us　often　of　a　Saturday　and　brought　us　back　before　service　m　the　morning。　One　may　find　in　that　town　today　many　who　will　love　to　tell　him　of　the　voice　and　beauty　and　sweetness　of　Hope　Brower　those　days；　and　of　what　they　expected　regarding　her　and　me。　We　went　out　a　good　deal　evenings　to　concerts；　lectures　at　the　churches　or　the　college；　or　to　visit　some　of　the　many　people　who　invited　us　to　their　homes。
  We　had　a　recess　of　two　weeks　at　the　winter　holidays　and　David　Brower　came　after　us　the　day　the　term　ended。　O；　the　great　happiness　of　that　day　before　Christmas　when　we　came　flying　home　in　the　sleigh　behind　a　new　team　of　greys　and　felt　the　intoxication　of　the　frosty　air；　and　drove　in　at　dusk　after　the　lamps　were　lit　and　we　could　see　mother　and　Uncle　Eb　and　Grandma　Bisnette　looking　out　of　the　window；　and　a　steaming　dinner　on　the　table！　I　declare！　it　is　long　since　then；　but　I　cannot　ever　think　of　that　time　without　wiping　my　glasses　and　taking　a　moment　off　Tip　Taylor　took　the　horses　and　we　all　came　in　where　the　kettle　was　singing　on　the　stove　and　loving　hands　helped　us　out　of　our　wraps。　The　supper　was　a　merry　feast；　the　like　of　which　one　may　ftnd　only　by　returning　to　his　boyhood。　Mack！　that　is　a　long　journey　for　some　of　us。
  Supper　over　and　the　dishes　out　of　the　way　we　gathered　about　the　stove　with　cider　and　butternuts。
  'Well；'　said　Hope；　'I've　got　some　news　to　tell　you　…　this　boy　is　the　best　scholar　of　his　age　in　this　county。'
  'Thet　so？'　said　David。
  Uncle　Eb　stopped　his　hmnmer　that　was　lifted　to　crack　a　butternut　and　pulled　his　chair　close　to　Hope's。　Elizabeth　looked　at　her　daughter　and　then　at　me；　a　smile　and　a　protest　in　her　face。
  'True　as　you　live；'　said　Hope。　'The　master　told　me　so。　He's　first　in　everything；　and　in　the　Town　Hall　the　other　night　he　spelt　everybody　down。'
  'What！　In　HilIsborough？'　Uncle　Eb　asked　incredulously。
  'Yes；　in　Hillsborough；'　said　Hope；　'and　there　were　doctors　and　lawyers　and　college　students　and　I　don't　know　who　all　in　the　match。'
  'Most　　reemarkable！'　said　David　Brower。
  'Treemenjious！'　exclaimed　Uncle　Eb。
  'I　heard　about　it　over　at　the　mllls　t'day；'　said　Tip　Taylor。
  'Merd　Dieu！'　exclaimed　Grandma　Bisnette；　crossing　herself。
  Elizabeth　Brower　was　unable　to　stem　this　tide　of　enthusiasm。　I　had　tried　to　stop　it；　but；　instantly；　it　had　gone　beyond　my　control。　If　I　could　be　hurt　by　praise　the　mischief　had　been　done。
  'It's　very　nice；　indeed；'　said　she　soberly。　'I　do　hope　it　won't　make　him　conceited。　He　should　remember　that　people　do　not　always　mean　what　they　say。'
  'He's　too　sensible　for　that；　mother；'　said　David。
  'Shucks！'　said　Uncle　Eb；　'he　ain'　no　fool　if　he　is　a　good　speller　…　not　by　a　dum　sight！'
  'Tip；'　said　David；　'you'll　find　a　box　in　the　sleigh　'at　come　by　express。　I　wish　ye'd　go'n　git　it。'
  We　all　stood　looking　while　Tip　brought　it　in　and　pried　off　the　top　boards　with　a　hatchet。
  'Careful；　now！'　Uncle　Eb　cautioned　him。　'Might　spile　sumthin'。'
  The　top　off；　Uncle　Eb　removed　a　layer　of　pasteboard。　Then　he　pulled　out　a　lot　of　coloured　tissue　paper；　and　under　that　was　a　package；　wrapped　and　tied。　Something　was　written　on　it。　He　held　it　up　and　tried　to　read　the　writing。
  'Can't　see　without　my　spectacles；'　he　said；　handing　it　to　me。
  'For　Hope；'　I　read；　as　I　passed　it　to　her。
  'Hooray！'　said　Uncle　Eb；　as　he　lifted　another；　and　the　last　package；　from　the　box。
  'For　Mrs　Brower；'　were　the　words　I　read　upon　that　one。
  The　strings　were　cut；　the　wrappers　torn　away；　and　two　big　rolls　of　shiny　silk　loosened　their　coils　on　the　table。　Hope　uttered　a　cry　of　delight。　A　murmur　of　surprise　and　admiration　passed　from　one　to　another。　Elizabeth　lifted　a　rustling　fold　and　held　it　to　the　lamplight　We　passed　our　hands　over　the　smooth　sheen　of　the　silk。
  'Wall；　I　swan！'　said　Uncle　Eb。　'Jes'　like　a　kitten's　ear！'
  'Eggzac'ly！'　said　David　Brower。
  Elizabeth　lifted　the　silk　and　let　it　flow　to　her　feet　Then　for　a　little　she　looked　down；　draping　it　to　her　skirt　and　moving　her　foot　to　make　the　silk　rustle。　For　the　moment　she　was　young　again。
  'David；'　she　said；　still　looking　at　the　glory　of　glossy　black　that　covered　her　plain　dress。
  'Well；　mother；'　he　answered。
  'Was　you　fool　enough　t'　go'n　buy　this　stuff　fer　me？'
  'No；　mother　…　it　come　from　New　York　City；'　he　said。
  'From