One Saturday night there was to be a grand spelling match at a country crossroad about four miles from our village, and four schools were to participate. As I saw the great sleigh loaded for the coming struggle the thought occurred to me that if I only managed to secure a ride without being observed I might in some way be able to demonstrate to the older scholars that in spelling at least I was their equal. While the driver was making a final inspection of the team preparatory to starting I managed to crawl under his seat, where I remained as quiet as mouse until the team arrived at the point of destination. I had not considered the question of getting back--I left that to chance. As soon as the different schools had arrived two of the best spellers were selected to choose sides, and it happened that neither of them was from our school. I stood in front of the old-fashioned fire-place and eagerly watched the pupils as they took their places in the line. They were drawn in the order of their reputation as spellers. When they had finished calling the names I was still standing by the fireplace, and I thought my chance was hopeless. The school-master from our district noticed my woebegone appearance, and he arose from his seat and said: "That boy standing by the fireplace is one of the best spellers in our school." My name was then reluctantly called, and I took my place at the foot of the column. I felt very grateful towards our master for his compliment and I thought I would be able to hold my position in the line long enough to demonstrate that our master was correct. The school-master from our district was selected to pronounce the words, and I inwardly rejoiced. After going down the line several times and a number of scholars had fallen on some simple word the school-master pronounced the word "phthisic." My heart leaped as the word fell from the school-master's lips. It was one of my favorite hard words and was not in the spelling book. It had been selected so as to floor the entire line in order to make way for the exercises to follow. As I looked over the long line of overgrown country boys and girls I felt sure that none of them would be able to correctly spell the word. "Next!" "Next!" "Next!" said the school-master, and my pulse beat faster and faster as the older scholars ahead of me were relegated to their seats. At last the crucial time had come. I was the only one left standing. As the school-master stood directly in front of me and said "Next," I could see by the twinkle in his eye that he thought I could correctly spell the word. My countenance had betrayed me. With a clear and distinct voice loud enough to be heard by every one in the room I spelled out "ph-th-is-ic--phthisic." "Correct," said the school-master, and all the scholars looked aghast at my promptness.