58 WINTER SKETCHES. 



up to our door bareback on his father's beauti- 

 ful black mare. "Jump up behind, Johnny," 

 he cried ; " father's gone to Boston, school will 

 be out, and we'll get back before he gets 

 home ! " So Fletcher and I rode off down 

 through the village, across the bridge, and up 

 the hill for the rest of a mile to the school. I 

 am not sure whether the mare ran away with 

 us or not. We did not care, and we were very 

 happy. We tied Bessie to a tree in a clump 

 behind the school-house and went in to apply 

 ourselves diligently to our lessons. An hour 

 afterward, Master Pierce had a class up for 

 recitation. It was a warm day. The windows 

 and doors were open. Suddenly Mr. Webster 

 stalked into the little school-room. I am 

 pretty sure that I shall not live to the aee of 

 Methuselah, but if I do I shall not forget that 

 scene. The class stopped their recitation. 

 Master Pierce stood still and the ruler dropped 

 from his hand making the only noise that 

 broke the dead stillness. Mr. Webster walked 

 up to his son and said in a deep tone, not so 

 very loud, but which seemed to me like a clap 

 of thunder, •' Where's the mare ! " and then he 

 lifted Fletcher from his seat by the ear. He 

 told me afterward that his father said nothing- 



