It was my first appearance in a long dress, and it troubled me greatly; but by dint of holding it up, as ladies do now-adays, I succeeded in getting to the schoolhouse, where I found my pupils arrayed in their best; Ike Ross having in his shirt bosom the selfsame glass breastpin which I had sported at Dell Thompson’s party. Not wishing the spectators to lose any of the exercises, I sat in grim silence, awaiting their arrival: but my waiting was all in vain; for, with the exception of Mrs. Randall and Dr. Clayton, the latter of whom came in the capacity of Inspector, not a single individual was present! Not a parent—not a friend, nor a foe—and still, if the examination had not been held, those who stayed away would have ridiculed me, and voted my school even a worse failure than they did. So much for consistency. Parents, I think, are not sufficiently aware of the great good their occasional presence in the schoolroom will do, both to teacher and scholar; the latter of whom will almost invariably study harder and strive to have better lessons, if there is a prospect of their father or mother’s hearing them recite; while the former, feeling that an interest is taken in them, will also be incited to fresh efforts for the improvement of those committed to their charge. But not thus thought the people of Pine Hill. Satisfied that an examination was going on, they stayed at home, expressing their surprise when they heard that nobody was there, wondering what it meant, and saying “folks ought to be ashamed for not going!” As if to make amends for their neglect, Dr. Clayton, in his closing remarks, said some very complimentary things concerning my school, which he bade the children repeat to their parents; and such is human nature, that, when I had received my _Eight Dollars_, and was gone, the District, in speaking of me, said, “I wasn’t the _worst_ teacher, after all.” About four o’clock, there came up a thunder shower, which caused both Mrs. Randall and the scholars to hasten home. Dr. Clayton, on the contrary, was in no hurry. “It was, perhaps, the last opportunity he would have of seeing me,” he said, “and he meant to improve it.” It was not very far to Meadow Brook I thought, and so I at last ventured to say. “I know that,” he replied; “but people might talk were I to call on you, and I do not wish to do anything which will affect you unpleasantly.” “I don’t care what folks say,” arose to my lips, but its utterance was prevented by a flash of lightning and a thunder crash, which made me shriek aloud, while I covered my face with my hands.