CHAPTER III.
BOSTON TILICUM.
Marlowe Mann--"Boston tilicum," as the Siwashes called all the missionaries, teachers, and traders from the East--sat down upon a bench of split log and leaned upon his desk, which consisted of two split logs in a rough frame.

A curious school confronted him.

His pupils numbered fifteen, representing Germany, England, Sweden, New England, and the Indian race.
"The world will some day come to the Yankee schoolmaster," he used to say to the bowery halls of old Cambridge; and this prophecy, which had come to him on the banks of the Charles, seemed indeed to be beginning to be fulfilled on the Columbia.
He opened the school in the same serene and scholarly manner as he would have done in a school in Cambridge.
"He is not a true gentleman who is not one under all conditions and circumstances," was one of his views of a well-clothed character; and this morning he addressed the school with the courtesy of an old college professor.
"I have come here," he said, "with but one purpose, and that is to try to teach you things which will do you the most good in life.

That is always the best which will do the most good; all else is inferior.

I shall first teach you to obey your sense of right in all things.