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Master William Horner came to our village to school when he was
about eighteen years old: tall, lank, straight-sided, and
straight-haired, with a mouth of the most puckered and solemn kind.
His figure and movements were those of a puppet cut out of shingle
and jerked by a string; and his address corresponded very well with
his appearance. Never did that prim mouth give way before a laugh. A
faint and misty smile was the widest departure from its propriety,
and this unaccustomed disturbance made wrinkles in the flat, skinny
cheeks like those in the surface of a lake, after the intrusion of a
stone. Master Horner knew well what belonged to the pedagogical
character, and that facial solemnity stood high on the list of
indispensable qualifications. He had made up his mind before he left
his father's house how he would look during the term. He had not
planned any smiles (knowing that he must "board round"), and it was
not for ordinary occurrences to alter his arrangements; so that when
he was betrayed into a relaxation of the muscles, it was "in such a
sort" as if he was putting his bread and butter in jeopardy.
Truly he had a grave time that first winter. The rod of power was
new to him, and he felt it his "duty" to use it more frequently than
might have been thought necessary by those upon whose sense the
privilege had palled. Tears and sulky faces, and impotent fists
doubled fiercely when his back was turned, were the rewards of his
conscientiousness; and the boys—and girls too—were glad when working
time came round again, and the master went home to help his father
on the farm.
But with the autumn came Master Horner again, dropping among us as
quietly as the faded leaves, and awakening at least as much serious
reflection. Would he be as self-sacrificing as before, postponing
his own ease and comfort to the public good, or would he have become
more sedentary, and less fond of circumambulating the school-room
with a switch over his shoulder? Many were fain to hope he might
have learned to smoke during the summer, an accomplishment which
would probably have moderated his energy not a little, and disposed
him rather to reverie than to action. But here he was, and all the
broader-chested and stouter-armed for his labors in the
harvest-field.
Let it not be supposed that Master Horner was of a cruel and ogrish
nature—a babe-eater—a Herod—one who delighted in torturing the
helpless. Such souls there may be, among those endowed with the
awful control of the ferule, but they are rare in the fresh and
natural regions we describe. It is, we believe, where young
gentlemen are to be crammed for college, that the process of
hardening heart and skin together goes on most vigorously. Yet among
the uneducated there is so high a respect for bodily strength, that
it is necessary for the schoolmaster to show, first of all, that he
possesses this inadmissible requisite for his place. The rest is
more readily taken for granted. Brains he may have—a strong arm he
must have: so he proves the more important claim first. We must
therefore make all due allowance for Master Horner, who could not be
expected to overtop his position so far as to discern at once the
philosophy of teaching.
He was sadly brow-beaten during his first term of service by a great
broad-shouldered lout of some eighteen years or so, who thought he
needed a little more "schooling," but at the same time felt quite
competent to direct the manner and measure of his attempts.
"You'd ought to begin with large-hand, Joshuay," said Master Horner
to this youth.
"What should I want coarse-hand for?" said the disciple, with great
contempt; "coarse-hand won't never do me no good. I want a fine-hand
copy."
The master looked at the infant giant, and did as he wished, but we
say not with what secret resolutions.
At another time, Master Horner, having had a hint from some one more
knowing than himself, proposed to his elder scholars to write after
dictation, expatiating at the same time quite floridly (the ideas
having been supplied by the knowing friend), upon the advantages
likely to arise from this practice, and saying, among other things,
"It will help you, when you write letters, to spell the words good."
"Pooh!" said Joshua, "spellin' ain't nothin'; let them that finds
the mistakes correct 'em. I'm for every one's havin' a way of their
own."
"How dared you be so saucy to the master?" asked one of the little
boys, after school.
"Because I could lick him, easy," said the hopeful Joshua, who knew
very well why the master did not undertake him on the spot.
Can we wonder that Master Horner determined to make his empire good
as far as it went?
A new examination was required on the entrance into a second term,
and, with whatever secret trepidation, the master was obliged to
submit. Our law prescribes examinations, but forgets to provide for
the competency of the examiners; so that few better farces offer
than the course of question and answer on these occasions. We know
not precisely what were Master Horner's trials; but we have heard of
a sharp dispute between the inspectors whether a-n-g-e-l spelt angle
or angel. Angle had it, and the school maintained that pronunciation
ever after. Master Horner passed, and he was requested to draw up
the certificate for the inspectors to sign, as one had left his
spectacles at home, and the other had a bad cold, so that it was not
convenient for either to write more than his name. Master Homer's
exhibition of learning on this occasion did not reach us, but we
know that it must have been considerable, since he stood the ordeal.
"What is orthography?" said an inspector once, in our presence.
The candidate writhed a good deal, studied the beams overhead and
the chickens out of the window, and then replied,
"It is so long since I learnt the first part of the spelling-book,
that I can't justly answer that question. But if I could just look
it over, I guess I could."
Our schoolmaster entered upon his second term with new courage and
invigorated authority. Twice certified, who should dare doubt his
competency? Even Joshua was civil, and lesser louts of course
obsequious; though the girls took more liberties, for they feel even
at that early age, that influence is stronger than strength.
Click Here for Part II
The Schoolmaster's Progress
A Classic Funny Story
by
Caroline M.S. Kirkland |
