Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, 1905-09-08

bachelor, too! Well, must put as fair
a seeming outside as possible, and say
short prayers for the good behavior Of
the terrible boys" Here he comes!
and very worshipful gentleman he
is; not over young either, but red
nosed, fat and forty. Oh, we shall do.
believe, after all.
proceed to show OF my best classes,
putting leading questions, and other
wise endeavoring to do my duty as a
faithful teacher in exhibiting my pupils
in the most taking manner, and, really,
considering how we were surprised,
unarmed, with no lessons learned or
exercises prepared for the occasion,
we came off with flying colors. After
a particularly well-done recitation by
the class, turn triumphantly to the in
spector, and To- he sleeps the sleep of
the just. l feel like shouting in his
big ear an inquiry after the other six,
and his ponderous head goes bobbing-.
and nodding-and the orif1ce, jocular
ly termed a "fy-trap, drops inviting
ly open, till he brings up with jerk,
and he winks, and frowns, and mops
his oily face 9Th great handkerchief,
and pro1ounces himself entirely salts
fed with the scholars progress, and de-
clares a eulogistie encomium upon my
deserts as schoolmarm, and squeezes
my hand and departs. He has richly
earned his dollar and a half.
A shadow in the doorway-there
stands ''colored pusson," as these peo-
pie of dark faces are fond of styling
themselves, a yellow boy" as he would
be called south of the line where the
sons of toll are supposed to enjoy
perennial youth, being still boys"
when they drop into their graves at
four-score years and ten. He holds by
the hand little child, whose long jetty
curls and dusky face speak clearly the
tainted blood which flows in his veins,
and the deep crimson rises and grows
deeper in his round cheek when
he sees the scornful chances
and elevated noses along the lines
of benches. He has not lived many
years, but quite enough to feel the ban
upon his doomed race; he feels already
that, although among these white
folk, he Is not of them, and his large,
mournful eyes fill with tears as he
shrinks from notice. He is committed
to my tender mercies with an earnest
request from the yellow boy" his IA
Their, that | will keep the children from
teasing and tormenting him. The ne
cessity of such an injunction is a COM
ment upon our practice, to say nothing
of principles, which is little queer,
considering the loads of sympathy and
oceans of fuss which have been dumped
and found at the doors of their old
homes.
Not one of the scholars is willing to
sit beside the small waif; caste crops
out!--fot even ragged Baalan Ramble,
nor that dirty little vagabond Rory
O'Brien, who never owned shirt in
his life. Yes! there is one, little
faxen-haired, blue-eyed girl, Flossy
Ashcroft. All, those Ashcrofts are
good blood; no mushroom gentility
there. Flossy comes blushing to whis-
per in my ear that she will take care
of Prince. Heaven bless thee, lassie!
Garry the same kindly spirit through
thy life, and many and many more
shall rise up and call thee blessed.
Recess! The boys rush out with
many shout, almost before they have
cleared the threshold.
will you not come also and play,
little one?" whispers the fair maid
Flossy, loking into the sorrowful eyes
with heavenly, sweet beam from her
true, loving ones. wilt thou not come
by the pretty brook, and let me show
thee the gay ducks?"
With soft-toned words of kind en-
courasement, she places his tiny straw
hat above his curls, and he edges timid-
ly to the door, and fingers there in the
merry sunshine his race loves so we'll:
Meantime the buzzing and humming
goes on among the kept-in classes, as
lessons are conned and recited. Sud-
denly cry! Flossy, painting, fright
ened with Pale cheeks and wild ewes.
rushes in and buries her head on my
bosom. | learn that a boy has fallen
into 1.-THE pooP-a deep basin, which
Gully Brook inducts for it's waters in
its sweeping race around Merry Bank,
just below the schoolhouse
who is it? Yes, as feared-the lit
tie wait. The same yellow boy" AS
run eagerly, breathlessly to the spot
l say: "Oh, | hope they did not push
him into the dark water!" No, they
did not; but they stole his hat. and.
in his hurry and alright, he fell in.
Is he dead? Let US hope not; for
there is no other little voice to make
music for the dusky young mothers
heart, if this one is stilled forever.
New York Weekly