The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1881-08-05
miscellaneous.


1t was writing afternoon,"-said Miss
jenkins, and my scholars were new. Ifysu
had ever been Il teacher, my dear, you would
realize what the combination of those two
simple facts implies-the WEAKNESS of body
and the utter veXation ofspirit. First, there's
the holding of the pen. If there's one thing
more than another in which scholars exhibit
their own originality, it is in managing
pen-holdcr. Then, the ink To some it was
simply ink, nothing more To others it seem
ed an irresistible temper, whispering of
unique designs, grotesque or otherwise, to be
worked out upon desk or jacket, or perhaps
upon the back of one small hand.
Well, upon the afternoon of which | am
going to tell you, had had more correcting
to do than usual, for some of the scholars
were stupid, and couldn't do ms wished and
others were careless, and didn't try. What
with the looking and STOPPING, and continu-
al showing, | felt my patience giving way,
and when saw that three ofthe largest bows
had left the page upon which they should
have been practising, and were making "un-
known characters" in different parts of their
books, | lost it utterly That | will not
have" said sharply. II will punish any
boy who makes mark upon any but the
lesson page" They were very still for while
Nothing was heard but the scratching of the
pens, and the sound of my footsteps as |
walked up and down the aslcs Invountar-
ily found myself studying the hands before
me as if they had been faces. There was
Harry Sanford's, large and plump, but ilabby
withal, and not over clean. His ms" stood
weakly upon their legs, seeming to feel the
need of other letters to prop them up.
Walter Lanes, red and chapped, with
short, stubbcd fingers, nails bitten off to the
quick, had yet certain air ofsturdy dignity :
and his "n's," if not handsome, were certain
ly plain, and looked as if they knew their
place, and meant to keep it,
Tommy Silver's, long and limp, besmearcd
with ink from palm to nail, vainly strove to
keep time with a tongue which wagged, un
certainly, this way and that and which
should have been red, but was black, like the
fingers. His ms had neither form nor
comeliness, and might have stood for 'v's,"
or even "x's," quite as well
Then there was Hugh Bright's hand, hard
and rough with work, holding the pen as if
it never meant to let it go; bat his "n's"
arere "n's," and could not be mistaken for
anything else.
At length came to Frank Dunbar's desk
dear little Frank, who had been a real help
and comfort to me since the day when he
bashfuly knocked at my door, with books
and slate in hand. His hand was white and
shapcly; fingers spotless, nails immaculate,
and his "ns"-but what was it that sent a
cold chill over me as | looked at them? All,
my dear, if should live thousand years,
could never tell you how felt when found
that Frank Dunbar had written half dozen
letters upon the opposite page Of his copy
book
"Why, Frank" said I, show did that hap
pen ?"
az did it."
"You did it before | spoke ?" said I, clingng
to forlorn hope.
No, m; did it afterward forgot"
"Oh, Frank my good, good boy! How
could your l shall have to punish you"
Eyes, 'm,'-the brave blue eyes looking
calmly up into my face
Very well; you may go to the desk"
| lie went, and | walked the aisles again
up and down, up and down, giving caution
here or word of advice there, but not know
ing, in the least, what | was about My
thoughts were all with the flaxen haired cui-
prit, who stood bravely awaiting his penalty
Vainly strove to listen to my inward moni.
tor. 1t seemed suddenly to have become two
voiced-the one tantalizing, the other sooth-
ing-and, of course, the tones were conflict
ing.
| You must punish him." said one.
| "You mustn't" said the other
| HE deserves it."
| "He doesn't.
| HE disobeyed you fatty"
but he forgot-and he has always been SC
good"
But you promised. You have given youl
word. Here are thirty boys to whom you
should be an example Do you think they
are not watching you? Look at themr'