Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1881-09-08
HOW MISS JENKINS "GOT OUT OF IT.

1t was "writing afternoon"-Said
Miss Jenkms-and my scholars new
If You had ever been teacher, INV
dear, you would realize what the com
bination of those two SIMPLE facts i'm
plics-the weariness of body and the
utter yeXatiOn Of spirit. 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 Il pen-holder Then,
the ink; to some it was simply ink,
nothing ore. To others it seemed an
Irresistible tempter, whispering OF
unique designs, grotcsque or otherwise.
to he worked out upon desk or JACKIE,
or perhaps upon the back of one small
hand.
Well; upon the afternoon of which
am going TO tell you, | had had more
directing to do than usual, for some
Of the scholars We're stupid, and could
not do as | wished; and others We're
careless, and didn't try. What with
the looking, and STOPPING, and cOntin-
ual showing, | felt my patience giving
way, and when saw that three of the
largest boys lad left the page upon
which they should have been practic-
ing. and were making unknown char
acters" in different parts of their books,
| lost it utterly. THAT will not
have" said |, sharply. 81 will punish
any boy who makes mark upon any
but the lesson page
They were very still for a while.
Nothing was heard but the scratch,
scratching of the pens, and the sound
Of my footsteps as | walked up and
down the aislps InvOluntarily, |
found myself studying the hands before
me as if they had been faces. There
was Harry Sanford's large and plump
hut llabby withal, and not over clean.
His "n's' stood weakly upon their legs,
seeming to feel the need of other let
tiers toprop them up,
Walter Lanes red and chapped, with
short, slubbed fingers, nails bitten off
to the quick had yet a certain air of
sturdy dignity; and his ms" if not
handsome, We're certainly plain, and
looked as if they knew their place and
meant to keep it.
Tommy Silvers, long and limp, be-
smcared with ink from palm to nail,
vainly stroye to keep time with Il
tongue which wagged, uncertainty,
this way and that, and which should
have been red, but was black, like his
fingers. His ms had neither form nor
comelness, and might have stood for
"y's, or even KS" 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 g; ;
but his ms" were ms" and could not
be mistaken for anything else
At length came to Frank Dunbar's
desk-dear little Frank, who had been
Il real help and comfort to me since
the day when he nashfully knocked at
my door, with books and slate in hand.
His hand was white and shapely,
fingers spotless, nails immaculate, and
his "n's'-but what was it that sent
cold chill over me as | looked at them? ?
All, my dear, if should live a thous-
and 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 |, chow did that
happen?'
"l did it,
"You did it before 1 spOke2" said I,
clinging to fOrlOrn hope.
mo, IN, did it afterward. l for
got"
"Oh, Frank! my good, good boy!
How could you? | shall have to pun
ish YOU
YES, 'm"-the brave blue eyes look
ing calmly up into my face,
VERY well, you may go to the
desk"
He went, and | walked the aisles
again--up and down, giving a caution
here or Il word of advice there, but
not knowing in the least what | was
about. My thoughts were all with the
ilaXen.haired culprit who stood bravely
awaiting his penalty. Vainly l strove
to listen to my inward monitor. 1t
seemed suddenly to have become two
voiced-the one tantalizing, the other
soothing-and of course, the tones were
conflicting.
"You must punish him. said one.
"You must MT" said the other.
"IIe deserves it."
ale doesn't.
ale disobeyed you flatly."
"But he forgot-and he has always
been 50 good"
"But you promised. You have CIV
ell your word. Here are thirty boys
to whom you should be an example.
Do you think they are not watching
you? Look at themp
did look at them. Walter Lanes
sharp black eyes and Harry Sanford's
sleepy orbs were fixed curiously on me.
Nor were these all. Gray eyes, blue
eyes, hazel eyes, brown eyes-all were
regarding me intently; l almost fan
cied that they looked at me pityingly.
l could not bear it.
"Attend to your writing, boys"
Then l walked slowly up to the
desk.
"You see how it is," said the trouble
some voice. "You will certainly have
to punish him."
But l had thought of a possible
plan of escape. Frank" said 1, 'you
have been disobedient, and-you know
what l said, but-you are such good
boy that cannot bear to punish you
not in that way, l mean. You may
go to the foot Of your class, instead
"Td rather take the whipping"
The honest, upturned face was,yn'N
sober. but BETRAYED not the .aon aud