substantial hook slipped unheeded to the floor--there was a sunbonnet
of blue checkered gingham hanging by its long strings from a hook near
the window.

With fast beating heart, the boy saw that the next hook was vacant and
placing his own well worn straw beside the bonnet he wondered if she
would know whose hat it was. And then once more, with reluctant hand,
the seeker of Knowledge, in his Yesterdays, pushed open the door
leading to the one room in the building and, with a sigh of regret,
passed from the bright sunlight of boyish freedom to the shadow of his
childish task.

There were neither tinted walls nor polished woodwork in that hall of
learning. But, thank God, learning does not depend upon tinted walls
or polished woodwork. Indeed it seems that rude rafters and
unplastered ceilings most often covers the head of learning. The
humble cottage of the farmer shelters many a true scholar and
statesmen are bred in log cabins. Neither was there a furnace with
mysterious cranks and chains nor steam pipes nor radiators. But, when
the cold weather came, the room was warmed by an old sheet iron stove
that stood near the center of the building with an armful of wood in a
box nearby and the kindlings for to-morrow's fire drying on the floor
beneath. The desks were of soft pine, without paint or varnish, but
carved with many a quaint and curious figure by jack knives in the
hands of ambitious youngsters. The seats were rude benches worn smooth
and shiny. A water bucket had its place near the door and a rusty tin
dipper that leaked quite badly hung from a nail in the casing.

And hanging upon the dingy wall were the old maps and charts that,
torn and soiled by long usage, had patiently guided generations of