of a great square piece of land, surrounded by a high picket fence.
There were three or four sickly trees, but no grass, in this enclosure,
which had been worn smooth and hard by the tread of multitudinous feet.
I noticed here and there small holes scooped in the ground, indicating
that it was the season for marbles. A better playground for baseball
couldn't have been devised.

On reaching the schoolhouse door, the Captain inquired for Mr. Grimshaw.
The boy who answered our knock ushered us into a side-room, and in a
few minutes--during which my eye took in forty-two caps hung on forty-two
wooden pegs--Mr. Grimshaw made his appearance. He was a slender man, with
white, fragile hands, and eyes that glanced half a dozen different ways
at once--a habit probably acquired from watching the boys.

After a brief consultation, my grandfather patted me on the head and
left me in charge of this gentleman, who seated himself in front of
me and proceeded to sound the depth, or, more properly speaking, the
shallowness, of my attainments. I suspect my historical information
rather startled him. I recollect I gave him to understand that Richard
III was the last king of England.

This ordeal over, Mr. Grimshaw rose and bade me follow him. A door
opened, and I stood in the blaze of forty-two pairs of upturned eyes.
I was a cool hand for my age, but I lacked the boldness to face this
battery without wincing. In a sort of dazed way I stumbled after Mr.
Grimshaw down a narrow aisle between two rows of desks, and shyly took
the seat pointed out to me.

The faint buzz that had floated over the school-room at our entrance
died away, and the interrupted lessons were resumed. By degrees I