something I could never say before in all my twenty-four years of
existence. It is an exhilarating thought. But teaching the
Lindsay district school is distinctly NOT exhilarating--at least
in such a well-behaved school as this, where the pupils are so
painfully good that I haven't even the traditional excitement of
thrashing obstreperous bad boys. Everything seems to go by clock
work in Lindsay educational institution. Larry must certainly
have possessed a marked gift for organizing and drilling. I feel
as if I were merely a big cog in an orderly machine that ran
itself. However, I understand that there are some pupils who
haven't shown up yet, and who, according to all reports, have not
yet had the old Adam totally drilled out of them. They may make
things more interesting. Also a few more compositions, such as
John Reid's, would furnish some spice to professional life."

Eric's laughter wakened the echoes as he swung into the road down
the long sloping hill. He had given his fourth grade pupils
their own choice of subjects in the composition class that
morning, and John Reid, a sober, matter-of-fact little urchin,
with not the slightest embryonic development of a sense of
humour, had, acting upon the whispered suggestion of a roguish
desk-mate, elected to write upon "Courting." His opening
sentence made Eric's face twitch mutinously whenever he recalled
it during the day. "Courting is a very pleasant thing which a
great many people go too far with."

The distant hills and wooded uplands were tremulous and aerial in
delicate spring-time gauzes of pearl and purple. The young,
green-leafed maples crowded thickly to the very edge of the road
on either side, but beyond them were emerald fields basking in