Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Farm life -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
"I wish I were a little richer," said Mr. Landholm, drawing
his breath, -- "and my sons should have a better chance. I am
willing to work both _my_ hands off -- if that would be of any
avail. You may do as you please, my dear, about the school.
I'll not stand in your way."
"The twelve dollars would pay a man who would do as much work
as I could, father."
"Yes, yes, -- that's all straight enough."
"Is Winthrop going to teach school?" exclaimed Asahel.
"Perhaps so."
"Then I should go to school to Winthrop," said the little boy
clapping his hands, -- "shouldn't I, mamma? Wouldn't it be
funny?"
"I too?" cried Winifred.
"Hush, hush. Hear what your father says."
"I am only sorry you should have to resort to such
expedients."
"Do you think they would take me, father?"
"Take you? yes! If they don't, I'll make them."
"Thank you, sir."
Winthrop presently went with the children, who drew him out
into the kitchen. Mr. Landholm sat a few moments in silent and
seemingly disturbed thought.
"That boy'll be off to College too," he said, -- "after his
brother."
"He'll not be likely to go after anything wrong," said Mrs.
Landholm.
"No --that's pretty certain. Well, I'll do all I can for him!"
"Whatever he undertakes I think he'll succeed in," the mother
went on remarking.
"I think so too. He always did, from a child. It's his
character. There's a sharp edge to Rufus's metal, -- but I
think Winthrop's is the best stuff. Well I ain't ashamed of
either one on 'em!"
Winthrop took the school. He found it numbering some thirty
heads or more. That is, it would count so many, though in some
instances the heads were merely nominal. There were all sorts,
from boys of fifteen and sixteen that wanted to learn the
Multiplication table, down to little bits of girls that did
not know A, B, and C. Rough heads, with thoughts as matted as
their hair; lank heads, that reminded one irresistibly of
_blocks;_ and one fiery red shock, all of whose ideas seemed to
be standing on end and ready to fly away, so little hold had
they upon either knowledge, wit, or experience. And every one
of these wanted different handling, and every one called for
diligent study and patient painstaking. There were often fine
parts to be found under that rough and untrained state of
nature; there were blocks that could be waked into life by a
little skill and kind management and a good deal of time; and
even the fly-away shock could be brought down to order and
reason by a long course of patience and firmness. But the
younger heads that had no thoughts at all, -- the minds that
were blank of intelligence, -- the eyes that opened but to
stare at the new teacher! What amount of culture, what
distance of days and months, would bring something out of
nothing!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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