The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1876-01-06
Kim's Last whipping.


painted school house that stood LII a
sand-bank ali summer, and in snow
bank all winter, waiting for strong north
wind to blow it over.
essay, what will you sell that school
house for?" asked a traveller OF little
boy, who stood on one foot on a rickety
doorstep.
"For q bunch of Matches" answered
the little boy as quick as thought.
The man laughed and rode on. The
boy was Kimban Price, the rogue of the
town of Skookac, District Number
Three, and the try-patience of all his
teachers. He was handsome lad, ten
years old. I do not mean that he was
always ten but that was his age when
Miss Pentecost whipped him, and that
is where our story begins.
Now, Miss Pentecost taught the
school that summer at District Number
Three. She liked Kim-everybody
liked him ; but that was no reason why
he should be allowed to tie girls to-
gether by the hair-they wore long
braids in those days fire papeL-balls,
or eat choke-cherries, or stick pins IN
the benches to make the A B @ scholars
cry ''O!" when they were not saying
their letters. Miss Pentecost never
winked at their nightmares; and as
whippings were fashionable at that
period, she whipped Kim regularly
three times q week. It was considered
the most direct way of reaching the
conscience.
But Kim never could remember a
whipping more than day and half, or
at the longest, three days, and Miss Pen
5ecost began to grow discouraged. Must
Kim always go on doing mischief, and
1eglecting his lessons-a boy who could
earn so well if he chose 2"
She knew his mother-a poor widow,
with large family of children-and she
was sure Mrs. Price could not afford to
3end Kim to school merely to play.
"What can l say or do to make an I'M
preston on that child?" thought Miss
Pentecost, one day, as she tied the
strings of her bingham "log-cabin"
lnder her chin, and stepped out OF the
school house.
Just then she caught these words,
spoken by Kim with great energy, and
flourish of fists:
"Ten you it's true, Bob Whiting, for
mother said so and if mother says it,
%, it's so, and if it amt sol"
Miss Pentecost laughed all to herself,
md passed on through the sand-bank
.nto the dusty road. When she had
gone as far as the big willow, she paused
little and laughed again.
"I like to hear boy talk SO about his
mother, even if it is nonsense. Kim is
IN afectionate little fellow, and I
shouldn't wonder if he is pretty good
son. Anyway, I've got an idea, and I
mean to try it, and see how it will
work"
Next day was the time for one of Kim's
regular whippings. He had been more
trying than usual, and Miss Pentecost
sent job Whiting out for remarkably
strong birch stick, which could express
her feelings better than the old one,
which stood in the corner. She spent
some time in trimming the new twlg,
though she was careful to leave few
little knots on it, which would give en-
phasis to the blows.
CT don't think / ever saw better
birch stick" said she, looking at it adj
m1ringly.
CHOW, Kimball, you may take off your
jacket"
He was so used to taking it off that he
always kept half the buttons unfastened
to save time.
Miss Pentecost gave him an unusually
hard whipping, and after it he cried till
he could hardly see out of his eyes. He
thought that was enough, and it was
what the boys call 'tsquare thing" but
at night, as he was running out of the
school house, whistling, Miss Pentecost
called him up to her desk.
"Wen, Kimball, I've whipped you
hard to day-very hard. !"
Kim thought there wasno doubt about
that.
Yes'm," responded he, meekly.
fLook at this stick. Didn't / take
pains to get "a good one?"
'Yes'm," said Kim but he did not
gaze at the stick as if he loved it.
Do you know, Kimball, it's very
hard work to whip you2 1t lanes my
arm, and it hurts my feelings. Really,
| can't afford to do it day after day fol
nothing"
Kim looked up in surprise. This was
new view of the matter.
You understand me, Kimball ]
can't afford to do it for nothing any
moro. There's not another boy in school
I've whipped SO often as you and this
time | must be paid for it. Don't you
think that's fair9"
"Yes'm," said Kim, in intense amaze
ment, his eyes as black and shining as
watermelon seeds.
6 Well, Kimball, I think it's worth al
least twenty-five cents and don't want
you to come to school tomorrow with
out bringing me the money. Tell your
mother about it, and tell her if you
don't bring it, shall have to send yor