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"Enough of this," cried the rector, roused from his brooding by the tussle, "Steve's dug into my boy's eye and paid for it with his own nose! We'll call the affair quits, and I'll ask you Baltimore folks to show courtesy to the strangers within your gates."

That afternoon we attended a fair on the chapel grounds. I was eager to show Alexander that I too had strength and skill, and at the fair, in a small way, my chance came.

As we approached the grounds we saw that, among other sports, a gilt-laced hat had been placed on a greased pole, to be won by the man or boy who climbed the pole and slid down with the hat on his head. Alexander challenged me to try.

Others had tried and had slid back defeated amidst much laughter. I gave a running leap, however, and clutched the pole a man's height from the ground. My fingers and feet managed to find cracks and crevices. My knees stuck. It may have been that the dirt and sand in which I had taken the precaution to roll before making the attempt enabled my arms and legs to overcome the grease, or perhaps it was because those who had tried first had worn most of it away. From whatever reason, I continued to climb, rubbing the outer part of my sleeve over the pole as I advanced, so that more of the grease was removed from my path. At last, amidst cheers, I reached the peak of the pole, seized the gilt-laced hat, donned it—although it fell down over my ears—and slid to the ground in triumph.