The school in 1782 had been reorganized by Jeremiah Tyler, who was its principal. There were more than a hundred children in attendance. Assisting him as instructors were his daughter Judith and Mrs. Harris, a widow, who the year before had taken the place of Mrs. McDonald. Mrs. Harris was from Boston, where she had taught a girls’ school for several years. The school now enjoyed the reputation of being the best west of Richmond; in fact, many contended it was the best in Virginia. John Calvin was conceded champion in the spelling and quotation battles, which continued the neighborhood attraction and the regular Friday afternoon entertainment. The Fairfax family, in 1782, moved from Greenaway Court to Jackson River, where Captain Fairfax bought an extensive boundary on the edge of the Valley between the Preston farm and the Campbell plantation. The three families were inseparable and visited at all hours without the slightest formality. Captain Fairfax and his wife said that Dorothy had made them move to the Valley and tried to tease her by telling John he was the attraction. The two children treated the jest in the most matter-of-fact way, Dorothy saying: “He is almost as dear to me as you and father are,” and John, that: “I am very glad that Dorothy lives so near, she is the best friend I ever had.” Theirs was a close friendship of more than ten years, beginning almost in infancy with never a thought about the relations of the future. They were much together, frequently visiting John Calvin Rock, where they would take their books and spend the whole afternoon. He would read aloud or write for her what she called prose poems; little practical essays on everyday things, yet possessed of a spirit of individual mysticism and beauty of thought. Considering them her greatest treasures they were carried home and locked up in a small cabinet of inlaid woods, which had belonged to her distinguished and aristocratic uncle, Lord Fairfax. The two were as dissimilar in disposition and appearance as possible. She was petite, inclined to be innocently giddy; quick with tears of sympathy and capable of making one forget his sorrows by her chirpy gladness; yet as John knew, a very sensible girl when confronted by something of importance. He was tall for his age with big hands and feet; and apparently, though not in reality, clumsy. His light hair was always in wavy, riotous disorder. He loved the solitudes of the mountain and the great forest beyond, and spent much of his time climbing over the mountain and in long tramps through the forest. He never carried a gun, refusing to kill any wild thing, and wearing his girdle, had no fear of the Indians. He told Dorothy that when alone he could almost touch the wild deer or walk into the midst of a drove of turkeys; and if in his rambles he came upon timber wolves or bear, they passed him without showing either concern or friendliness.