alive and alluring in those tremendous moments 

 that you transport me to its semi-tropic home by 

 the magic of your words . . . Nor that little note- 

 book which you gave to me — so sharply does its 

 image stand after these many years! On its crim- 

 son cover was a pictured globe beneath which was 

 born the enticing title "The World for One Cent" ; 

 across the top you had inscribed my name and 

 words "Rock Falls Public School, Room 5, E. 

 Grace Mann, Teacher." In its precious pages you 

 taught me to keep my first accounts of the trees, 

 the ways of the flowers and the insects, and the 

 birds and other creatures which I began then for 

 the first time really to observe . . . Nor the poet 

 Whittier's picture, framed by the contributions of 

 the class, unveiled in solemn ceremony whereat 

 you predicted the return on some far distant day 

 of one of the assembled students who would seek 

 that room again to reveal once more the signatures 

 of his fellows affixed on the back of the portrait. 

 Your prediction came true. I recently revisited the 

 old school-room. The picture was still there . . . 

 but you, and nearly all my former school-mates, 

 had left those sacred precincts long, long ago, had 

 disappeared utterly, leaving behind naught of 



[83] 



