It was no wonder that the trembling child, who could read very fairly,
should yet, after such an introduction to the ways of school, fail
utterly in making anything like coherence of the sentence before her.
What she would have done, had she been left to herself, would have been
to take the little boy in her arms and cry too. As it was, she
struggled mightily with her tears, and yet she did not read to much
better purpose than the poor boy, who was still busy wiping his eyes
with his sleeves, alternately, for he never had had a handkerchief. But
being a new-comer, and a girl to boot, and her long frock affording no
facilities for this kind of incentive to learning, she escaped for the
time.
It was a dreadful experience of life, though, that first day at school.
Well might the children have prayed with David--"Let us fall now into
the hand of the Lord, for his mercies are great; and let us not fall
into the hand of man." And well might the children at many another
school respond with a loud _Amen_!
At one o'clock they were dismissed, and went home to dinner, to return
at three.
In the afternoon she was set to make figures on a slate. She made
figures till her back ached. The monotony of this occupation was
relieved only by the sight of the execution of criminal law upon
various offending boys; for, as must be already partially evident, the
master was a hard man, with a severe, if not an altogether cruel
temper, and a quite savage sense of duty. The punishment was mostly in
the form of _pandies_,--blows delivered with varying force, but
generally with the full swing of the _tag_, as it was commonly called,
thrown over the master's shoulder, and brought down with the whole
strength of his powerful right arm upon the outstretched hand of the
culprit. But there were other modes of punishment, of which the
restraints of art would forbid the description, even if it were
possible for any writer to conquer his disgust so far as to attempt it.
Annie shivered and quaked. Once she burst out crying, but managed to
choke her sobs, if she could not hide her tears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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