Year: 1864

AT the end of the last bench upon my
class sat boy who was very backward
in his learning. He was continually abb
sent upon what seemed to be frivolous
pretences. These abseucies entailed upon
me much additional trouble. l had oc<
casionally to keep him and a little rem~
nant in the room when the others had
gone out to play; to make up to him and
them for lost time. And on one occasion
my look was very cross, and my speech
very short: for it seemed to me provoking
that children should be so backward in
their Latin. And when the work was
over and we two were left alone, he fol-
lowed me to my desk, and said: You
have no idea, sir, how weak am And
1 said: Why, my boy, you look stout
enough But he answered; Il am really
very weak, sir; far weaker than lookH
and there was a pleading earnestness IN
his words that touched me- to the heart;
and, afterwards, there was an unseen
chord of sympathy that bound the mast
er to the pupil, who was still Very-dun at
Latin.


And still he would be absent; at times,
for day or two together. But it excited
no surprise. For the boy seemed to sit
almost a stranger among his fellows, and
in play-hours seemed to take no interest
in boyish games. And by and by he had
been absent some weeks together. And
I was afraid to ask concerning him;
thinking be might have been removed, as
many boys have been, without letter of
explanation, or his shaking me by the
hand. And one morning received a
letter With broad black edge, telling me
that he had died the day previously of q
virulent, contagious fever.


So when the school was over, made
my way to his whilome lodging, and
stood at the door, pondering For the
fever, of which the child had died, had
been to me a Death-in-life, and had pass
ed like the Angle of old over my dwell
ing, but, unlike that Angel, had spared
my 6rst-born and only-bOrn. And be-
cause the latter sat each evening on my
knee, was afraid of the fever, and in
tended to leave my card, as a mark Ofre-
spectful sympathy. But the good woman
of the house said: Nay, nay, sir, but yell
see the ladder and Ifelt drawn by an in-
fiuence of fatherhOod more cOnstrainiDg
than a fathers fears, and followed the
good woman into the small and'dim cham
Der where my pupil was lying. And, as
/ passed the threshold, my masterhood
slipt off me like loose robe, and stood,
very humble and pupil-like, in that awful
presence, that tea6heth a wisdom to babes
and sucklings, to which our treasured
lore is but a jingling of vain words.
And, when left alone, drew near the
cherries and dismantled bed, on which
my pupil lay asleep in his early coffin
And he looked very calm and happy, as
though there had been to him no pain in
passing from world where he had few
companions and very little pleasure.
And knew that his bOyhood had been
as dreary as it had been short; and l
thought that the good woman of his lOdg-
ing had perhaps been his only Isympa-
thizing friend at hand. And commu-
ned with myself whether aught had
done could have made his dullness more
dnlL And felt thankful for the chord
of sympathy that had united us, unseen,
for little while. But, in a strange and
painful way, stood rebuked before the
calm and solemn and unrebuking face of
the child on whom had frowned for his
being backward in his Latin.


Day dreams Of a SehOolmaSter