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. NUMBER 27.
OLMSTEAD & CO., PUBLISHERS.
For the Companion,
THE YOUNG SCHOOLMASTER.
We all remember just how he looked, we boys
of 184-, when we entered the school-house on the
first day of school, and saw him for the first time.
' It had been whispered among the gossips of the
district that we were to have a young schoolmaster
that winter, some said only sixteen years oli, and
we boys managed to get knowledge of it, and were
prepared to find the young pedagogue quite one of).
ourselves, in size as well as age.’ What was our
surprise then to see, on entering the school-house on
the morning of “Monday after Thanksgiving,” a
strapping fellow, six feet high, of a somewhat
dark and fierce complexion, and swinging a ruler
in his hand half as big as a door-sill! «He wore a
green coat, a little too small for him every way, and
~ his vest and pants likewise looked as if they might
have fitted him yesterday and he had grown away
from them last night. A:pepper and salt scarf
went round his neck and down his shirt bosom,
embellished with a showy pin, and when he took
out his enormous silver watch (we had seen it
sticking through a rip at the bottom of his vest
pocket,) we heard Bill Chaffee whisper to the boy
who sat nearest him,
“Guess his mother fried nutcakes in it.”
Taken altogether, the new “master” was, to look
at, quite thrifty and formidable, and likely at least
to hold his own among us for the ensuing: three
months, :
Our previous talk about “putting him out of doors
the first day” subsided very small by forenoon re-
cess, and few suggestions were ventured in that di-
rection, except that one enthusiastic little fellow,
who was always on hand for any rebellious scrape,
~ declared that “if Milo Walker were only there, we
“could manage him just like nothing.” » This senti-
ment was laughed at by the bigger boys, and the
day passed off so smoothly that had the school-
master himself been prudent, there was nothing in
the prospect to indicate any other than a quiet and
prosperous winter’s term.
Instead of going on, however, with dignity and
firmness, as we expected he would, the young mas-
ter soon began to betray weakness by parading his
power in small things. He had a way of treating
the little shildren, that made him hateful to all of
us, and when we saw him ferrule small John Dil-
linghant, for making up a face, and let big Joe
Sears go with only a reprimand for staying out half
an afternoon skating, we began to suspect him of
both partiality and cowardice.
But what tended most of all to destroy our re-
spect for him, was his constant and foolishly be-
trayed preference for one of the larger girls, Jane
Fenner, the committee-man’s daughter. “She was
about the schoolmaster’s age; and a yery smart
scholar; but withal a pert, high-tempered girl, who
had never made herself a favorite with us. . As
soon as we discovered the state of things between
her and the teacher, we made them both the butt
of our ridicule. .
It was in vain that he stormed, and threatened,
- and whipped, or stalked up and dbwn the school-
house floor with his thumbs in his armholes, laying
down the law; so long as he smiled sweetly upon
Jane, and she had everything her own way there,
wwe were determined to be as troublesome as we
could.’ Pasquinades and jingling squibs went the
rounds of the house, done up in paper wads, or slid
alyly along the desks, on malicious slates, creating
many a snicker, and all with just enough of secrecy
to let the master suspect we were having our fun
at his expense.
One boy wrote him a love letter, full of all sorts
of foolishness, and got his sister to copy it and
sign Jane Fenner’s name to it. Another auda-
cious youngster, at the risk of being terribly
pounded, pinned her profile with a ridiculous acros-
tic to the schoolmaster’s coat tails. '
This could not last always. The forms of study
nd recitation were gone through with in school
hours, but few of us could tell at the end of the
week what we had been over since Monday morn-
- ing. In fact, I believe nobody but Jane Fenner
learned anything of any consequence during that
whole term; and the parents were not slow to share
“the indignation of the school that a single pupil
_ should thus monopolize the attention of the mas-
no ter
ROGER AND HIS BEAST.
While they talked among themselves and remon-
strated with the committee, a boy drew up some
articles of rebellion, and fixed a day when the
whole school should rise, turn out the teacher and
lock the doors on him. Most of the boys signed
this document, and the conspiracy was very nearly
ripe when by some chance the paper was lost, and
falling into the hands of one of the committee the
whole secret came out at once.
Down came the indignant Mr. Fenner to take
the rebellious striplings in hand. No believer in
these unlucky reports about the schoolmaster was
he, Notatall, Didn't he know him? And didn’t
his daughter learn well?
So we wicked young conspirators were soundly
lectured, and brought to make a sort of half con-
fession and apology, which he and the master were
forced to be contented with, and so that matter
ended. .To tell the truth, when the character of
our proceeding was shown up to.us, we were
ashamed of it. - It is a poor resort for school boys
who do not like their teacher to undertake to get
rid of him in an underhanded way.
Our young schoolmaster’s position grew more
and more uncomfortable, however, every day. It
was four times as easy now for us to torment him,
and take advantage of him, for he was suspicious
of everything, and would go off ina flash at every
little annoyance. The way we walked out and in,
the way we held our slates and books, the way we
coughed and sneezed, or looked at one another, all
arrested his mistrust, and furnished matter for his
frequent comment. He must have been a very un-
happy man, and—I am sorry to say it—we were
giad of it.
However, his outbursts of temper at us and his
punishments were now so frequent and savage that
we could not be expected to love him much.
One day, a bitter cold day, when the hickory
wood, burning fiercely in the old Franklin stove,
and reddening the iron with its heat, sent scarce a
ray of warmth to the back benches of the big
school-house, we very naturally sought comfort by
closer proximity to the fire. As a consequence a
considerable number would be huddled round tke
stove at one time, and applications for leave to share
in the warm privilege came thick and fast from
every part of the room.
The schoolmaster soon got out of patience, and
bluntly told one of the pupils to sit down. It hap-
pened to-be Dick Bishop, one of the large boys,
who received this refusal, and he was not afraid to
resent it in a way that brought the exasperated
master’s great ruler down upon him with a force
that broke it in shivers. - Besides the hurt, Dick’s
slate was shattered to pieces by one of the blows,
and half pulling off his coat, the enraged boy
sprung at the master, probably counting on the
help of the rest of us to seize and overpower him,
We, however, had not just then, as he had, the
smart of recent blows to stimulate us, or any
broken slates to avenge, and so we sat still, igno-
miniously perhaps, thinking how much harder was
actual insurrection against authority than theoreti-
eal insurrection on paper. When Dick saw that
Wwe did not follow him, the moral force that was
against him in the case soon made a coward of
him, as it had of us, and he sank back into his seat,
not, however, before the savage master had beaten
him over the shoulders with the fire shovel, bend-
ing the handle of the utensil almost double. Send-
ing out a small boy after a stick, the master now
prepared to assert his authority by the law of the
strongest. The ringleader and bully of our num-
ber was absent, and he was not far from right in
supposing that this would keep us back, and make
his opportunity a good one. ° He threw off his coat
and seized the stick,—a cruel birch rod, six feet
long,—and spitting on his palms like a wood-chop-
per, mauled and thrashed poor Dick with both
hands till he was obliged to desist from sheer ex-
haustion. By the time he had commenced again,
Dick was on his feet with the tongs in his hand,
determined to defend himself.
Then ensued probably the most disgraceful scene
ever witnessed in that old school-room. Behind
and before the rows of low seats filled with little
children, who cried and huddled together like chick-
ens, with affright, from the desk to the door, and
round and round the stove swayed the battle be-
tween pupil and teacher, while the loud voice of
the latter, continually calling on Dick to surrender
his weapon, (Dick never opened his lips, but looked
like a tiger,) mixed with the sound of the blows
delivered right and left, the muttered threats of
the bigger boys, the shrieks of the girls, and the
crying of the children, converted the school from a
scene of quiet study toa pandemonium. Ina few
minutes, that seemed to us an hour, it was all over.
Dick had spent the fever of his desperation, and
taken his seat once more, and meanwhile, by order
of the master, the boy who cut the stick was run-
ning in all haste to fetch the committee man.’ Mr,
Fenner came in due form, and expelled Dick, but
there was something more ‘to be said, which com-
mittee-man Fenner had no control of, and the next
day the schoolmaster was arrested and the school
shut up. Dick Bishop was covered with weals and
blue bruises, from the crown of his head to the
soles of his feet.
Ten years afterwards some of us who were pupils
of that winter’s school, saw the very dent in the
stove-pipe made by the wild strokes of that hated
master, on that memorable day. There were also
detected the remains of the crook in the old shovel
handle that he used for a switch on the body of
our schoolmate, and to this day certain peculiar
marks upon a bench and post in the same old room,
refer us, who remember them, back to that un-
seemly melee, and there is the same lean in the
22 SCHOOL STREET, BOSTON.
south-east corner of the school-house, which we
boys were wont to say, with some exaggeration,
was made when the schoolmaster pounded Dick
Bishop.
Masters of this desperate character are not often
placed in charge of schools in these days. I have
given this unpleasant reminiscence that scholars of
to-day may appreciate their advantages in this re-
spect. At any rate, whoever may be your teacher,
boys, it is always better to submit to his authority,
howgver severe, than to rebel against it, 7. B.
——_+#+—___
THE GIRL WHO HAD “NOTHING TO
WEAR.”
*“A note for you, Ad,” said Edward Payton, toss-
ing a pretty little billet into bis sister’s lap; “I
guess it’s from your friend, Bella Corson. At any
rate, Mr. Corson’s boy brought it.”
“Yes, that’s Isabella’s writing,” replied: Adelaide
Payton, as she tore open the envelope and pro-
ceeded to read the note. ‘Having glanced over the
contents, she looked up and said:
“It’s an invitation to take tea at Isabella’s, next
Tuesday. Yow are invited, too.”
“That's capital!’ rejoined Edward; “I like to
go to Bella Corson’s house. They always have lots
of good things to eat and plenty of fun. Ill go
and have a good time.”
“I shall not go,” said Adelaide, stifgy.
“Not go!” exclaimed Edward, with as much sur-
prise as he might have felt if he had suddenly fall-
en into the adjacent mill pond. “Not go! Why,
what in the world is the reason ?”
“Nothing; only I shan’t go,” replied Adelaide,
firmly. - .
. “But why not? Can't you give a reason for
such a strange resolution ?” ~ :
“I can’t go, because I’ve nothing to wear,” said
Adelaide, putting on a very blank, disconsolate
ook,
“Nothing to wear! Phoo-o-o-o! Well that’s
news, Nothing to wear, eh? Why, you have on
one of the prettiest frocks in Ferndale, and then
there’s—” :
“Do you think I'd wear a muslin frock to a par-
ty?” asked Adelaide, breaking: in on her brother’s
remark, and putting on the air of Innocence in a
pet.
“I should think you wouldn’t mind what a dress
is made of if it looks well. You look better in that
muslin than Nellie Lofty does in her silk. But you
have the new silk father bought for you last New
Year's. Isn’t that something to wear?”
“That silk! Pshaw! Do you think I'd wear
that cheap thing to a party?” said Adelaide, with
a flash of anger in her large black eyes.
“Cheap, eh?” rejoined Edward ; “I heard pa say
it cost over twenty-five dollars. If you call that
cheap I should like to know what you call dear.”
“Well, Ido call it cheap. It’s as common as
dirt alongside of Isabella’s splendid pink, which
cost twice.as much, . It’s “too bad I can’t have
things like other girls!” .
Here Adelaide brought her little foot to the
ground with violence, while tears of proud vexa-
tign hung pendant from her long eyelashes.
“You beat all the girls in Ferndale, I do believe,’
said Edward. “You have calico dresses, gauze
dresses, delaine dresses, silk dresses, and I don’t
know how many other sorts of dresses, Your
clothes-press is full of dresses. Yet, if one could
hear you talk without seeing you, he would think
you were some poor Fiji girl without a single dress
tocover your body. I don’t understand it. I'm
glad Taint a girl; and as for you, Ad, I'd advise
you to ask Mr, Yardstick to put you in the place of
that dummy he keeps in his window. He puta a
different dress on her every day, you know. Get in-
to its place, and then, you see, you’d have plenty
to wear; wouldn’t that be nice!” .
“You ‘shant’ laugh at me,” said Adelaide ; but
Edward was already gone. He was in the street,
muttering, as he went:
“If that Ad has one dress she has twenty, and
yet she says she has nothing to wear, What a girl
she is! I wonder if all the girls talk so?”
If I had been near Edward I should have replied,
“Not all of them; though I fear too many of them
are just like your sister.” oo
Girls, what do you think of Adelaide? She had
not twenty, but she had at least ten, yery nice
