"I presume you know my circumstances," he said. "If I succeed in graduating from the academy, I must have work. Do you know of anything I can get to do?"

Mr. Phillips smiled at the lad's straightforward way in coming to the point, and asked:

"What are you willing to do?"

"Anything that is honest," answered Ray, promptly.

"We have usually given the bell ringing and the sweeping of the recitation rooms in Prince Hall to some student, allowing him tuition and room rent free for the work. It happens that the student who has had the position for nearly four years wishes to give it up. As your tuition and room rent are already provided for by your scholarship, I presume the trustees would be willing to let that work offset your board bill. It is an exacting position, however, for the first bell rings at six in the morning, the last at nine in the evening. Are you willing to undertake it?"

"Yes, sir. When shall I begin?" inquired Ray.

Mr. Phillips smiled again. The promptness of this lad was amusing. "To-morrow morning," he then answered. "Greene, in number 42, on the second floor of your own dormitory, will give you all needful instructions."

Ray now rose to go; but Mr. Phillips detained him a moment to add: "Some of the boys also find work to do on Saturdays down in the city. In the spring, work can be found to some extent among the neighboring farmers. You are at liberty to undertake anything that does not interfere with your school duties. I wish you success, and will help you all I can."

The office of bell ringer obliged Ray to rise very early. The office of sweeper compelled him to be on the alert at an early hour also. But this was no especial trial to Ray. He had all his life been accustomed to early rising. Promptness, if not one of his inborn qualities, was one he had acquired at a very early age. His mill life had drilled him to it. His farm life had simply supplemented it. It was all the same to him whether he arose at four or five o'clock in the morning, or whether he rang the bell once or twenty times a day. He adapted himself to circumstances with perfect ease. Instead of bending to circumstances, circumstances bent to him. He made a good bell ringer and sweeper simply because he tried to perform even those tasks as he tried to do everything else—in the best possible way.

His position brought him into disfavor with some of his associates. In a large school like that there were some students who came from wealthy and aristocratic families, and they seemed to think that manual toil was a disgrace. Instead of honoring Ray for securing an education in this manly, independent way, they appeared to regard his coming among them as an insult to themselves. But I am glad to say there were but a few of this class; and even they, before a great while, were forced to respect Ray. They found he was as good a scholar as he was bell ringer and sweeper. They found he could row a boat, or bat a ball, as well as he could recite. They found him manly and gentlemanly at all times. It suddenly dawned upon their minds that any necessary and useful employment is respectable. It was Ray who taught them that truth. He dignified the most menial work he was called to perform. He did it by putting Christian principle into his work.