Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1872-02-23
MISS WARNINGS LOVER.

{ BYEMARYs A. u. HREY.L
1t was not an attractive school-room.
The bare walls were g1iltless of white
wash, and the knife-marks on desks and
benches-like- those, strange -exhuned
bird-tracks of the Old Red Sandstone
showed where the first rude outlines
long ago, under the debris of years.
Across the-lowerhalf of every window
square of faded green baize had been
tackled closely to the easement, lest
some pair of ehild-eyes, heavy with re-
viewing the endless lines n1arshaled in
tedious uniformity on book or slate,
should rest awhile upon. the blessed
contrast of green fields and gurgling
waters. '-'
Miss Warnings eyes darkened with
quiet indignation. AS if school-room
were a prison? AS if one lesson from
springing grass, and spreading tree
reaching up to the life-giving sunshine
one element of modest beauty in
meadow lily and wild rosebud, of happy
trust in tender bird, provident squirrel,
or care-free butterfly, could be spared
from the place where young minds
should learn how to expand and grow,
young heart. to aspire and yet be hum
BILE, young lives to assume the divenely
appointed relations of faith and work.
But the school-room, like many other
things Of sufficiently unpromising ex-
terror, was rich in possibilities. Miss
Waring made rapid inventory of such
intangible wealth, and nodded to her.
self from her little chair of state upon
the platform.
The offending baize, its faded ugli
ness yelled by short curtains of cheap,
white muslin, might be made to do good
service higher up the windows, in
softening the glare of the mid day sun
shine. The broad. window inches gave
ample room for pots of ivy, wandering
Jew, and Madeira vine, needing only
time and care to improvise festoons and
draperies more graceful than the most
elaborate designs of the old tapestries.
Then, in her portfolio-for the little
school mistress thought with her eye
and hand-she remembered some IL
Illuminated texts, bright as the pages of
an old missal; sketches, too, in pencil
and colors, simple bits, which the chill
dren could get at the heart o1-waiting
only to be- framed with the cones and
willow-witches they would be only too
glad to gather for her on the first half
holiday. Their own hands should help
to weave and bind; they should have a
voice in the hanging and general ar
angement; for this home making, she
thought, like the rest of the worlds
work, must be cooperative. if it were
- IL
The sound of footsteps and voices
broke in upon her morning dream, and
the pleasant vision of the renovated
room faded in the light Of the days
duties.
The scholars came by twos and threes,
gathering in and about the half-open
door, with shy, curious glances at the
new teacher.
Children are the most unerring
physiognonists,l since no Others are so
helplessly dependent upon the varying
moods, which leave unfailing imprint on
the face. A few bolder ventured inside,
in advance Of her pleasant invitation to
all. Two Or three offered little punches
of wild flowers, dewy and sweet, making
her cheek flush with pleasure. Ever
since she could remember, flowers had
been her friends she. kr.ew@them by
heart, and had fancy more clearly de-
fined, than, she would have been quite
willing to confess, that they, in turn,
understood her. when human sympathy
failed, The, Germans call their fra:
GRANGE the "speech of flowers Miss
Waring placed her own eloquent treas
ures in a cracked tumbler, which little
girl found for her in the ante room, and
more than. once, amid the cares and
anxieties Of that FFirst day, their fresh.
mess and beauty entered into her heart.
and kept it strong. f. -s+1 sf-,# s.a
aYou'n be apt to have some trouble
with Hal Thorn, the deacon's boy,"
widow Moss. her hostess, had said to
feher that morning, over the breakfast
coffee. *1-a7. ~; i
| "Heis a bad boy, then2o bns Iiue
Yes; caresfor nothing and nobody.
His father can't keep him in school half
the time. A smart lad, too, and quick
with his books, when he chooses How
| well remember the Sunday his mother
| first led him. into meeting. He was
scarcely more than baby, and so bright
| and pretty-the people turned in their
| seats to get second look at his laugh
ing face. g Little she thought, poor
woman, of how, he would be growing
| upsl nsad 7at bea sltaq s. .aa' ese!.. .I
| "Mrs. Thorn is not living, I think l
heardtp said Miss Waring.
+ "Oh no She died-let me think
it will be ten years come Christmas.
Hal must be gfourteen-how the years
fly The deacon never married again, -
went on the good woman, fairly launched
upon the tide OF gossip. 4 Mary-she's
/ the olde st-keeps house. Susan mar
ried asFalconer- boywill be in your
A b 9 class. Steve helps his father on
the farm; he's the deacon right over. a
real chip of the old block. Hal is the
youngest"
" Would it have been the same with
Hal, if his mother had lived do you
think?"
| "Perhaps not. She was a quiet