CHAPTER IX.
"Hitherto hath the Lord helped us."
"Boys," said Mr. Burrows, one Monday afternoon, "you may lay aside your books; I want to have a talk with you."
Books were hurriedly gathered and piled in their places, and the boys sat up with folded arms, ready for whatever their teacher had to offer.
Mr. Burrows drew out his arm-chair from behind the desk, and sat down for a chat.
"Who will tell me what an acrostic is?"
Several hands were raised.
"Well, Howard, let us hear what you think about it."
"It's a piece of poetry, sir, where the first letter of every line spells another word."
"Do you mean the first letter alone spells a word?"