“My friends,” said the stranger once more, “some people think education’s a big thing, and some think it ain’t. Well, sometimes it is, and sometimes it ain’t. Now, here’s this man”—he pointed down to where Bonaventure’s dishevelled crown was drooping to his knees—“claims to have taught over thirty of your children to read. Well, what of it? A man can know how to read, and be just as no account as he was before. He brags that he’s taught them to talk English. Well, what does that prove? A man _might_ speak English and starve to death. He claims, I am told, to have taught some of them to write. But I know a man in the penitentiary that can write; he wrote too much.” Bonaventure had lifted his head, and was sitting with his eyes upon the speaker in close attention. At this last word he said— “Ah! sir! too true, too true ah yo’ words; nevertheless, their cooelty! ’Tis not what is print’ _in_ the books, but what you learn _through_ the books!” “Yes; and so you hadn’t never ought to have made the bargain you made; but, my friends, a bargain’s a bargain, and the teacher’s——” He paused invitingly, and an answer came from the audience. It was Catou who rose and said— “Naw, sah. Naw; he don’t got to go!” But again ’Mian thundered— “_Taise toi_, Catou. Shot op!” “I say,” continued the stranger, “the mistake’s been made. _Three_ mistakes have been made!” “Yass!” roared Chat-oué, leaping to his feet and turning upon the assemblage a face fierce with triumph. Suspense and suspicions were past now; he was to see his desire on his enemy. But instantly a dozen men were on their feet—St. Pierre, Catou, Bonaventure himself, with a countenance full of pleading deprecation, and even Claude, flushed with anger. “Naw, sah! Naw, sah! Waun meesteck?” “Seet down, all han’!” yelled ’Mian; “all han’ seet dahoon!” Only Chat-oué took his seat, glancing upon the rest with the exultant look of one who can afford to yield ground. “The first mistake,” resumed the stranger, addressing himself especially to the risen men still standing, and pointing to Catou, “the first mistake was in the kind of bargain you made.” He ceased, and passed his eyes around from one to another until they rested for an instant on the bewildered countenance of Chat-oué. Then he turned again upon the people, who had sat down, and began to speak with the exultation of a man that feels his subject lifting him above himself.