Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1881-08-11
HOW MISS JENKINS "GOT OUT OF
lTo


1t was writing afternoon said
Miss Jenkins-and my scholars were
new. If YOU had ever been a teacher,
my dear. you would realize what the
combination of those two simple facts
implies-the WEAKNESS of body and the
utter vexation of spirit. First, there S
the holding of the pen. If there's one
thing more than another in which schol-
ars exhibit their own originality, it is
in managing a pen-holder. Then, the
ink: To some it was simply ink, moth
ing more. To others it seemed an ire
sisti5le tempter, whispering of unique
designs, grOtesple or otherwise, to be
worked out upon desk or jacket, or per-
haps 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 as / wished; and others were care
less, and didn't try. What with the
looking, and STOPPING, and continual
showing. felt my patience giving way,
and when L saw that three OF the largest
boys had left the page upon which they
should have been practicing, aud were
making unknown characters" in diff
ferent parts of their books, lost it ut
terly. THAT DiH not have" said /,
sharply. II 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 aisles. Involuntarily, found
myself studying the hands before me rs
if they had been faces. There was
Harry Sanford's large and plump, but
flabby, withal, and not over clean. His
"n's'' stood weakly upon their legs,
seeming to feel the need of other letters
to prop them up.
Walter Lanes, red and chapped,
with short, stubbed fingers, nails bitten
off to the quick. had yet certain air of
sturdy dignity; and his ms" if not
handsome, were certainly plain. and
looked as if they knew their place, and
meant to keep it.
Tommy Silver's, long and limp, be-
smeared with ink from palm to nail.
vainly strove to keep time with tongue
which wagged, uncertainty, this way
red, but was black, like the fingers.
His ..n's'' had neither form nor come
illness, 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; but
his MS Ucre ms, and could not be
mistaken for anything else.
At length I came to Frank Dunbar S
desk--dear little Frank, who had been
a real help and comfort to me since the
day when he bashfully knocked at my
door, with books and slate in hand. His
hand was white and shapely; fingers
spotless, nails Immaculate, and his
s"-but what was it that sent cold
chill over me as looked at them? All,
my dear, if 1 should live thousand
years, l could never tell you how felt
when found that Frank Dunbar had
written half dozen letters upon the OPP
posite page of his copy-book!
why, Frank" said l, show did
that happen?"
Il did it.
"You did it before spoken said 1.
clinging to forlorn hope.
mo, m; / did it afterward. / for
got"
.'Oh, Frank, my good, good boy!
How could you? 1 shall have to punish
YOU"
"Yes, 'm,"-the brave blue eyes
looking calmly up into my face.
Very well; you may 90 to the desk. +"
He went, and i walked the aisles
again-up and down, up and down, Civ
inc caution here or a word of advice
there, but not knowing. in the least,
what / was about. My thoughts were
all with the flaxen-haired culprit, who
stood bravely awaiting his penalty.
Vainly strove to listen TO my inward
monitor 1t seemed suddenly to have
become two-voiced-the one tantaliz-
ing, the other soothing of course,
the tones were conflicting.
"You must punish him." said one.
You mustn't" said the other.
He deserves il. :"
HE doesn't"
''He disobeyed you fla.ly."
but he forgot he has always
been so good"
But You promised. You have given
your word. Here are thirty boys to
whom you should be an example. Do
you think they are not watching you?
Look at them!'
did look at them. Walter Lanes
sharp. black eyes and Harry Sanford's
sleepy orbs were fixed curiously upon
me. Nor were these all. Gray eyes,
blue ewes, hazel and brown eyes-all
were regarding me intenily; almost
fancied that they looked at me plying