Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
Even Jake Dennison, who had been off in the mountains for some little
time getting out timber, was on hand, large and good-humored, sitting
beside Phrony Tripper in her pink ribbons, and fanning her hard enough
to keep a mine fresh. A little later in the day quite a number of the
fathers and mothers of the children arrived in their rickety vehicles.
They had come to take leave of the young teacher. There were almost as
many as were present at the school celebration. Keith was quite
overcome, and when the hour arrived for closing the school, instead of,
as he had expected, tying up the half-dozen books he kept in his desk,
shaking hands with the dozen children eager to be turned loose in the
delightful pasturage of summer holiday, turning the key in the lock, and
plodding alone down the dusty road to Squire Rawson's, he now found the
school-room full, not of school-children only, but of grown people as
well. He had learned that they expected him to say something, and there
was nothing for him to do but to make the effort. For an hour, as he sat
during the last lessons,--which were in the nature of a review,--the
pages before him had been mere blurred spaces of white, and he had been
cogitating what he should say. Yet, when he rose, every idea that he had
tried so faithfully to put into shape fled from his brain.
Dropping all the well-turned phrases which he had been trying to frame,
he said simply that he had come there two years before with the conceit
of a young man expecting to teach them a good deal, and that he went
away feeling that he had taught very little, but that he had learned a
great deal; he had learned that the kindest people in the world lived in
that region; he should never forget their kindness and should always
feel that his best friends were there. A few words more about his hopes
for the school and his feeling for the people who had been so good to
him, and he pronounced the school closed. To his surprise, at a wink
from Squire Rawson, one of the other trustees, who had formerly been
opposed to Keith, rose, and, addressing the assemblage, began to say
things about him that pleased him as much as they astonished him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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