"Squire Haynes objects that my proposition, if adopted, will make
our taxes heavier. I grant it: but how can we expect to carry on
this gigantic war without personal sacrifices? If they only come
in the form of money, we may account ourselves fortunate. I take
it for granted that there is not a man here present who does not
approve the present war--who does not feel that we are waging it
for good and sufficient reasons."

Here Mr. Holman moved uneasily in his seat, and seemed on the
point of interrupting the speaker, but for some reason forbore.

"Such being the case, we cannot but feel that the burden ought to
fall upon the entire community, and not wholly upon any
particular portion. The heaviest sacrifices must undoubtedly be
made by those who leave their homes and peril life and limb on
the battlefield. When I propose that you should lighten that
sacrifice so far as it lies in your power, by voting them a
bounty, it is because I consider that money will compensate them
for the privations they must encounter and the perils they will
incur. For that, they must look to the satisfaction that will
arise from the feeling that they have responded to their
country's call, and done something to save from ruin the
institutions which our fathers transmitted as a sacred trust to
their descendants. Money cannot pay for loss of life or limb. But
some of them leave families behind. It is not right that these
families should suffer because the fathers have devoted
themselves to the sacred cause of liberty. When our soldiers go
forth, enable them to feel that their wives and children shall
not lack for the necessaries of life. The least that those who
are privileged to stay at home can do is to tax their purses for
this end."

"Mr. Chairman," said Squire Haynes sarcastically, "I infer that
the last speaker is intending to enlist."

Mr. Frost's face flushed at this insinuation.

"Squire Haynes chooses to impute to me interested motives. I need
enter into no defense before an audience to whom I am well known.
I will only inquire whether interested motives have nothing to do
with his opposition to voting bounties to our soldiers?"

This was such a palpable hit that Squire Haynes winced under it,
and his red face turned redder as he saw the smiles of those
about him.

"Impudent puppy!" he muttered to himself; "he seems to forget
that I have a mortgage of eight hundred dollars on his farm. When
the time comes to foreclose it, I will show him no mercy. I'll
sell him out, root and branch!"

Mr. Frost could not read the thoughts that were passing through
the mind of his creditor. They might have given him a feeling of
uneasiness, but would not in the least have influenced his
action. He was a man loyal to his own convictions of duty, and no
apprehension of personal loss would have prevented his speaking
in accordance with what he felt to be right.

The considerations which had been urged were so reasonable that
the voters present, with very little opposition, voted to pay one
hundred and fifty dollars to each one who was willing to enlist
as one of the town's quota. A list was at once opened, and after
the close of the meeting four young men came forward and put down
their names, amid the applause of the assembly.

"I wanted to do it before," said John Drake, one of the number,
to Mr. Frost, "but I've got a wife and two little children
dependent upon me for support. I couldn't possibly support them
out of my thirteen dollars a month, even with the State aid. But
your motion has decided me. I could do better by staying at home,
even with that; but that isn't the question. I want to help my
country in this hour of her need; and now that my mind is at ease
about my family, I shall cheerfully enter the service."

"And I know of no one who will make a better soldier!" said Mr.
Frost heartily.

CHAPTER II. THE PRIZE

A few rods distant from the Town Hall, but on the opposite side
of the street, stood the Rossville Academy. It had been for some
years under the charge of James Rathburn, A. M., a thorough
scholar and a skilful teacher. A large part of his success was
due to his ability in making the ordinary lessons of the
schoolroom interesting to his scholars.

Some forty students attended the academy, mostly from the town of
Rossville. Mr. Rathburn, however, received a few boarders into
his family.

There were three classes in the Latin language; but the majority
of those who had taken it up stopped short before they had gone
beyond the Latin Reader. One class, however, had commenced
reading the Aeneid of Virgil, and was intending to pursue the
full course of preparation for college; though .n regard to one
member of the class there was some doubt whether he would be able
to enter college. As this boy is to be our hero we will take a
closer look at him.

Frank Frost is at this time in his sixteenth year. He is about
the medium size, compactly made, and the heallhful color in his
cheeks is good evidence that he is not pursuing his studies at
the expense of his health. He has dark chestnut hair, with a
slight wave, and is altogether a fine-looking boy.

At a desk behind him sits John Haynes, the son of Squire Haynes,
introduced in our last chapter. He is nearly two years older than
Frank, and about as opposite to him in personal appearance as can
well be imagined. He has a thin face, very black hair is tall of
his age, and already beginning to feel himself a young man. His
manner is full of pretension. He never forgets that his father is
the richest man in town, and can afford to give him advantages
superior to those possessed by his schoolfellows. He has a
moderate share of ability but is disinclined to work hard. His
affectation of Superiority makes him as unpopular among his
schoolfellows as Frank is popular.

These two boys, together with Henry Tufts, constitute the
preparatory class of Rossville Academy. Henry is mild in his
manners, and a respectable student, but possesses no positive
character. He comes from a town ten miles distant, and boards
with the principal. Frank, though the youngest of the three,
excels the other two in

{Pages 13-14 missing}

Frank's face flushed with pleasure, and his eyes danced with
delight. He had made a great effort to succeed, and he knew that
at home they would be very happy to hear that the prize had been
awarded to him.

"Frank Frost will come forward," said Mr. Rathburn.

Frank left his seat, and advanced modestly. Mr. Rathburn placed
in his hand a neat edition of Whittier's Poem's in blue and gold.

"Let this serve as an incentive to renewed effort," he said.

The second prize was awarded to one of the girls. As she has no
part in our story, we need say nothing more on this point.

At recess, Frank's desk was surrounded by his schoolmates, who
were desirous of examining the prize volumes. All expressed
hearty good-will, congratulating him on his success, with the
exception of John Haynes.

"You seem mighty proud of your books, Frank Frost," said he with
a sneer. "We all know that you're old Rathburn's favorite. It
didn't make much difference what you wrote, as long as you were
sure of the prize."

"For shame, John Haynes!" exclaimed little Harvey Grover
impetuously. "You only say that because you wanted the prize
yourself, and you're disappointed."

"Disappointed!" retorted John scornfully. "I don't want any of
old Rathburn's sixpenny books. I can buy as many as I please. If
he'd given 'em to me, I should have asked him to keep 'em for
those who needed 'em more."

Frank was justly indignant at the unfriendly course which John
chose to pursue, but feeling that it proceeded from disappointed
rivalry, he wisely said nothing to increase his exasperation. He
put the two books carefully away in his desk, and settled himself
quietly to his day's lessons.

It was not until evening that John and his father met. Both had
been chafed--the first by his disappointment, the second by the
failure of his effort to prevent the town's voting bounties to
volunteers. In particular he was incensed with Mr. Frost, for his
imputation of interested motives, although it was only in return
for a similar imputation brought against himself.

"Well, father, I didn't get the prize," commenced John, in a
discontented voice.

"So much the worse for you," said his father coldly. "You might
have gained it if you had made an effort."

"No, I couldn't. Rathburn was sure to give it to his favorite."

"And who is his favorite?" questioned Squire Haynes, not yet
siding with his son.

"Frank Frost, to be sure."

"Frank Frost!" repeated the squire, rapidly wheeling round to his
son's view of the matter. His dislike of the father was so great
that it readily included the son. "What makes you think he is the
teacher's favorite?"

"Oh, Rathburn is always praising him for something or other. All
the boys know Frank Frost is his pet. You won't catch him
praising me, if I work ever so hard."

John did not choose to mention that he had not yet tried this
method of securing the teacher's approval.

"Teachers should never have favorites," said the squire
dogmatically. "It is highly detrimental to a teacher's influence,