A little incident will show the character of one of our teachers. One morning, as we came into our class room, every eye was fixed upon a billy-goat tied in the master’s chair on the platform behind the table. Every boy looked at every other boy with a silent question on his lips, and waited in wonder what the teacher would say. I greatly admired him, as he was one of my model men, and I felt sorry for anything that might annoy him, and I think most of the class felt the same. Soon he came in, and apparently did not notice anything out of the way until he was about to step upon the platform, when he turned quickly, saying, “I beg your pardon, boys, I find I have made a mistake. I am not the kind of teacher you need, as I see you have selected a billy-goat to take my place. You, perhaps, think that he is able to teach you all you are capable of learning, so I had better seek another situation, but before I leave, as I would not act hastily, I would like to know if you all prefer the goat to me. Any one who wants the goat, hold up his hand.” Not a hand went up. “Now, any one who wants me to remain hold up his hand.” And every hand and arm in the room went up as high as they could be raised. “That settles it,” he said, “and I have a very good opinion of you. I think the chaukedar must have been playing on us all, so we will have him called to take the butt of his joke away.” That was all. He never referred to the matter again, and our lessons went on as usual. We all, or most of us, felt so sorry for the master that we proposed as we left the room to keep dead silent. But the news of it got to the principal. We never knew how, but we all believed that the spy, always lurking about, had seen the goat through the window. That evening, as our chief pastor read the prayers, I felt by his tone, manner, and the redness of his face, that something was coming; just as the heated air and the distant rumbling thunder, tells of the coming storm.