"Of course not." "I like Jim well enough. He's a tip-top feller; but, all the same, he aint goin' to boss me round." "Nor me, either." This conversation between Tom Bassett and Bill Stackpole (for obvious reasons I use assumed names) augured ill for the success of the young teacher. They determined to make it hot for him, and have all the fun they wanted. They thought they knew James Garfield, but they made a mistake. They knew that he was of a peaceable disposition and not fond of quarreling, and although they also knew that he was strong and athletic, they decided that he would not long be able to maintain his position. If they had been able to read the doubts and fears that agitated the mind of their future preceptor, they would have felt confirmed in their belief. The fact was, James shrank from the ordeal that awaited him. "If I were only going among strangers," he said to his mother, "I wouldn't mind it so much; but all these boys and girls have known me ever since I was a small boy and went barefoot." "Does your heart fail you, my son?" asked his mother, who sympathized with him, yet saw that it was a trial which must come. "I can't exactly say that, but I dread to begin." "We must expect to encounter difficulties and perplexities, James. None of our lives run all smoothly. Shall we conquer them or let them conquer us?" The boy's spirit was aroused. "Say no more, mother," he replied. "I will undertake the school, and if success is any way possible, I will succeed. I have been shrinking from it, but I won't shrink any longer." "That is the spirit that succeeds, James." James laughed, and in answer quoted Campbell's stirring lines with proper emphasis: "I will victor exult, or in death be laid low, With my face to the field and my feet to the foe." So the time passed till the eventful day dawned on which James was to assume charge of his first school. He was examined, and adjudged to be qualified to teach; but that he anticipated in advance. The building is still standing in which James taught his first school. It is used for quite another purpose now, being occupied as a carriage-house by the thrifty farmer who owns the ground upon which it stands. The place where the teacher's desk stood, behind which the boy stood as preceptor, is now occupied by two stalls for carriage-horses. The benches which once contained the children he taught have been removed to make room for the family carriage, and the play-ground is now a barnyard. The building sits upon a commanding eminence known as Ledge Hill, and overlooks a long valley winding between two lines of hills. This description is furnished by the same correspondent of the Boston _Herald_ to whom I am already indebted for Henry Boynton's reminiscences contained in the last chapter.