Part 4 (2/2)
The bench, containing the water-pail, occupied the most central position in the room. At one side of the bench hung a long-handled tin dipper; on the other, another tin instrument, resembling an ear-trumpet, profoundly exaggerated in size.
”That's what you've got to blow to call us in,” exclaimed a small child, with antic.i.p.ative enlivenment.
I went to the door with the instrument.
”Dar' to be a Danyell!
Dar' to make it known.”
The stirring measures came across from Aunt Lobelia's window. Then the singer paused.
There were other faces at other windows. The countenances of the boys and girls gathered about the door were ominously expressive. I lifted the horn to my lips. I blew upon it what was intended for a cheerful and exuberant call to duty, but to my chagrin it emitted no sound whatever. I attempted a gentle, soul-stirring strain; it was as silent as the grave.
I seized it with both hands, and, oblivious to the hopeful derision Gathering on the faces of those about me, I breathed into it all the despair and anguish of my expiring breath. It gave forth a hollow, soulless, and lugubrious squeak, utterly out of proportion to the vital force expended, yet I felt that I had triumphed, and detected a new expression of awe and admiration on the faces of my flock.
”I don't see how she done it,” I heard one freckled-faced boy exclaim, confidingly to another; ”with a hull b.u.t.ton in thar'!”
”Who put the b.u.t.ton in the horn?” I inquired of the youngster afterwards, quite in a pleasant tone, and with a smile on which I had learned to depend for a particularly delusive effect; at the same time I put up my gla.s.ses to impress him with a sense of awe.
”Simmy B.,” he answered.
”And which is Simmy B.?” I questioned, glancing about the school-room.
”Oh, he ain't comin' in,” gasped my informer; ”he run over cross-lots with Emily's clo's on.”
I had planned not to confine my pupils to the ordinary method of imbibing knowledge through the medium of text-books, but by means of lectures, which should be interspersed with lively anecdotes and rich with the fruitful products of my own experience, to teach them.
My first lecture was, quite appropriately, on the duty of close application and faithful persistence in the acquisition of knowledge, depicting the results that would inevitably accrue from the observance of such a course, and here, glowing and dazzled by my theme, I even secretly regretted that modesty forbade me to recommend to my pupils, as a forcible ill.u.s.tration, one who occupied so conspicuous a position before them.
My new method of instruction, though not appreciated, perhaps, in its intrinsic design, was received, I could not but observe, with the most unbounded favor.
After the first open-mouthed surprise had pa.s.sed away from the countenances of my audience, I was loudly importuned on all sides for water. I was myself extravagantly thirsty. I requested all those who had ”slit herrin'” for breakfast to raise their hands.
Every hand was raised.
I gravely inquired if slit herrin' formed an ordinary or accustomed repast in Wallencamp, and was unanimously a.s.sured in the affirmative.
After dwelling briefly on the grat.i.tude that should fill our hearts in view of the unnumbered blessings of Providence, I inaugurated a system by which a pail of fresh water was to be drawn from one of the neighboring wells, and impartially distributed among the occupants of the school-room, once during each successive hour of the day. The water was to be pa.s.sed about in the tin dipper, in an orderly manner, by some member of the flock, properly appointed to that office, either on account of general excellence or some particular mark of good behavior; though I afterwards found it advisable not to insist on any qualifications of this sort, but to elect the water-bearers merely according to their respective rank in age. This really proved to be one of the most lively and interesting exercises of the school, was always cheerfully undertaken, executed in the most complete and faithful manner, and never on any account forgotten or omitted.
I drank, and continued my lecture, but the first look of attractive surprise never came back to the faces of my audience. They sought diversion in a variety of ways, acquitting themselves throughout with a commendable degree of patience until they found it necessary gently to admonish me that it was time for recess.
After recess, as the result of deep meditation, in which I had concluded that the mind of the Wallencamp youth was not yet prepared for the introduction of new and advanced methods, I examined my pupils preparatory to giving them lessons and arranging them in cla.s.ses, in the ordinary way. I found that they could not read, but they could write in a truly fluent and unconventional style; they could not commit prosaical facts to memory, but they could sing songs containing any number of irrelevant stanzas. They could not ”cipher,” but they had witty and salient answers ready for any emergency. There seemed to be no particular distinction among them in regard to the degree of literary attainment, so I arranged them in cla.s.ses, with an eye mainly to the novel and picturesque in appearance.
They were a little disappointed at the turn in affairs, having evidently antic.i.p.ated much from the continuation of the lecture system, yet they were disposed to look forward to school-life, in any case, as not without its ameliorating conditions.
CHAPTER III.
THE BEAUX OF WALLENCAMP PERFORM A GRAVE DUTY.
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