Sharp County record., 1881-03-31
THE SCHOOL-MASTER'S RUSE.

1HE SGUUUL-nAOIE L En- hOcL'
Every country boy in New England
knows that the village school-house is
generally located upon the top of the
bleakest hill in the neighborhood, and
is the sport of every eddying gust Of
wind that drives down from the great
pine wilderness of Maine, heaping the
great drifts across the road and about
the door for the children to break
through, and then shake themselves
free Of the clinging snow like so many
Young NewfOundlanders.
And where, by any chance, was there
ever a schoOl-houSe containing a Stove
that didn't roast the scholars seated
near it, and leave the Others to freeze.
All wide-awake boys who know the
pleasures of skating will agree with me
that however cold and stormy is upon
the hill-tops, the mill-pond (and what
does village amount to without a mill
pond, indeedO is always down in the
coziest nook between the hills, where
the winds can't come with more force
than is needed to blow the falling flakes
across it's smooth surface, piling them
in great heaps among the bordering
willows, and leaving the ice in tempting
order for "Shinny."
In fact, upon this the coolest morn
inc of the winter, the school-house on
the hilltop is not to be mentioned or
thought of in comparison with mill
ponds for comfort or attractiveneSS,
and it is hardly surprising that Mr..
Chalker, the school-master, walked to
and fro in solitary state, surveying
with vexed air an array of vacant desks.
He was not altogether alone, how
ever, for three boys had fought bravely
through the drifts, and now sat huddled
by the red-hot stove, trying hard to
look as though they, at least, didn't
think the weather a good excuse for
staying at home to hunt hens nests in
the depths of the haymoW.
Now School-maSter Chalker was a
shrewd observer, and loved good joke
as well as any one. He had adopted
many original plans Of instruction. He
could see one end of the mill-pond, half
q mile away from his window, and as he
gazed out upon the bleak waste of snow
clad fields he saw a couple of small
black figures gliding over its surface,
and trace of smile shone among his
wrinkles as an idea seemed to strike him.
Perhaps he had recalled the time,
ever so many years ago, when he, too,
was lad and the "wildest cub in the
town. as his father often declared.
Turning to one of the boys, he said,
"Ben, it seems to me that the ponds a
much nicer place for us than the school
house to-day. Let's 90 fishing. l can't
skate, but perhaps | can show you how
we used to catch pickerel down there
fifty years ago"
Ben and his two companions looked
at Mr.. Chalker with eyes widely opened,
but they soon found that he was in
earnest, and they agreed to the propo-
sitiOn joyfully.
Now" said Mr.. Chalker 1.-TWO of
you get out the bob-sled, and heap on
plenty of sticks from the wood pile. Be
sure and get some big ones; and you,
Berton, 90 down to Mr.. Sampson, the
miller, with this note. He will let you
have some lines, and a few minnows
for bait"
When the school house had been
properly locked up, and they had
started, dragging the sled after them, it
occurred to Ben to suggest a slide. So
all three got upon the wood, and slid
away merrily toward the pond. The
road was steep but straight, though
near the bottom there was a sharp curve
where the wind had blown away the
snow, leaving crust of smooth ice.
Over this they sped at lively pace, Ben
steering. Poor Ben couldn't turn the
corner, and in another second the sled,
schoolmaster and all plunged into
the depths of a big drift. Nothing was
to be seen of Mr.. Chalker for "a moment
but his heels; but he shortly emerged,
putting and laughing heartily, much to
the boys relief, who had begun to think
the fun was all over. But Mr.. Chalk
er shook himself, and declared he en-
joy cd it, and 5iS T6aGy To try il over: in
fact, he didn't act bit like school
master, but just like boy let loose-a
very CID boy, to be sure, but a very
hearty one, for all that.
1t only required q few minutes to cut
"a couple OF round holes in the ice, and
to build roaring fire upon a platform
of heavy sticks and fiat stones-a fire
that flung its forked tongues into the
keen air in merry defiance of the Frost
King and all his servants.
The hatf-dozen boys already on the