Shortly after the schoolmaster had arranged the forms and taken his seat
behind his desk, a small white-headed boy with a sunburnt face appeared at
the door, and, stopping there to make a rustic bow, came in and took his
seat upon one of the forms. He then put an open book, astonishingly
dog's-eared, upon his knees, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets,
began counting the marbles with which they were filled; displaying, in the
expression of his face, a remarkable capacity of totally abstracting his
mind from the spelling on which his eyes were fixed.
Soon afterward, another white-headed little boy came straggling in, and
after him, a red-headed lad, and then one with a flaxen poll, until the
forms were occupied by a dozen boys, or thereabouts, with heads of every
color but gray, and ranging in their ages from four years old to fourteen
years or more; for the legs of the youngest were a long way from the
floor, when he sat upon the form; and the eldest was a heavy,
good-tempered fellow, about half a head taller than the schoolmaster.
At the top of the first form--the post of honor in the school--was the
vacant place of the little sick scholar; and, at the head of the row of
pegs, on which those who wore hats or caps were wont to hang them, one was
empty. No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg, but many a
one looked from the empty spaces to the schoolmaster, and whispered to his
idle neighbor, behind his hand.
Then began the hum of conning over lessons and getting them by heart, the
whispered jest and stealthy game, and all the noise and drawl of school;
and in the midst of the din, sat the poor schoolmaster, vainly attempting
to fix his mind upon the duties of the day, and to forget his little sick
friend. But the tedium of his office reminded him more strongly of the
willing scholar, and his thoughts were rambling from his pupils--it was
plain.
None knew this better than the idlest boys, who, growing bolder with
impunity, waxed louder and more daring; playing "odd or even" under the
master's eye; eating apples openly and without rebuke; pinching each other
in sport or malice, without the least reserve; and cutting their initials
in the very legs of his desk. The puzzled dunce, who stood beside it to
say his lesson "off the book," looked no longer at the ceiling for
forgotten words, but drew closer to the master's elbow, and boldly cast
his eye upon the page; the wag of the little troop squinted and made
grimaces (at the smallest boy, of course), holding no book before his
face, and his approving companions knew no constraint in their delight. If
the master did chance to rouse himself, and seem alive to what was going
on, the noise subsided for a moment, and no eye met his but wore a
studious and deeply humble look; but the instant he relapsed again, it
broke out afresh, and ten times louder than before.
Oh! how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside, and how they
looked at the open door and window, as if they half meditated rushing
violently out, plunging into the woods, and being wild boys and savages
from that time forth. What rebellious thoughts of the cool river, and some
shady bathing place, beneath willow trees with branches dipping in the
water, kept tempting and urging that sturdy boy, who, with his shirt
collar unbuttoned, and flung back as far as it could go, sat fanning his
flushed face with a spelling book, wishing himself a whale, or a minnow,
or a fly, or anything but a boy at school, on that hot, broiling day.
Heat! ask that other boy, whose seat being nearest to the door, gave him
opportunities of gliding out into the garden, and driving his companions
to madness, by dipping his face into the bucket of the well, and then
rolling on the grass,--ask him if there was ever such a day as that, when
even the bees were diving deep down into the cups of the flowers, and
stopping there, as if they had made up their minds to retire from
business, and be manufacturers of honey no more. The day was made for
laziness, and lying on one's back in green places, and staring at the sky,
till its brightness forced the gazer to shut his eyes and go to sleep. And
was this a time to be poring over musty books in a dark room, slighted by
the very sun itself? Monstrous!
The lessons over, writing time began. This was a more quiet time; for the
master would come and look over the writer's shoulder, and mildly tell him
to observe how such a letter was turned up, in such a copy on the wall,
which had been written by their sick companion, and bid him take it as a
model. Then he would stop and tell them what the sick child had said last
night, and how he had longed to be among them once again; and such was the
poor schoolmaster's gentle and affectionate manner, that the boys seemed
quite remorseful that they had worried him so much, and were absolutely
quiet; eating no apples, cutting no names, and making no grimaces for full
two minutes afterward.
"I think, boys," said the schoolmaster, when the clock struck twelve,
"that I shall give you an extra half holiday this afternoon." At this
intelligence, the boys, led on and headed by the tall boy, raised a great
shout, in the midst of which the master was seen to speak, but could not
be heard. As he held up his hand, however, in token of his wish that they
should be silent, they were considerate enough to leave off, as soon as the
longest-winded among them were quite out of breath. "You must promise
me, first," said the schoolmaster, "that you'll not be noisy, or at least,
if you are, that you'll go away first, out of the village, I mean. I'm
sure you would n't disturb your old playmate and companion."
There was a general murmur (and perhaps a very sincere one, for they were
but boys) in the negative; and the tall boy, perhaps as sincerely as any
of them, called those about him to witness, that he had only shouted in a
whisper. "Then pray do n't forget, there's my dear scholars," said the
schoolmaster, "what I have asked you, and do it as a favor to me. Be as
happy as you can, and do n't be unmindful that you are blessed with
health. Good-by, all."
"Thank 'ee, sir," and "Good-by, sir," were said a great many times in a
great variety of voices, and the boys went out very slowly and softly. But
there was the sun shining and there were birds singing, as the sun only
shines and the birds only sing on holidays and half holidays; there were
the trees waving to all free boys to climb, and nestle among their leafy
branches; the hay, entreating them to come and scatter it to the pure air;
the green corn, gently beckoning toward wood and stream; the smooth
ground, rendered smoother still by blending lights and shadows, inviting
to runs and leaps, and long walks, nobody knows whither. It was more than
boy could bear, and with a joyous whoop, the whole cluster took to their
heels, and spread themselves about, shouting and laughing as they went.
" 'T is natural, thank Heaven!" said the poor schoolmaster, looking after
them, "I am very glad they did n't mind me."
Toward night, the schoolmaster walked over to the cottage where his little
friend lay sick. Knocking gently at the cottage door, it was opened
without loss of time. He entered a room where a group of women were
gathered about one who was wringing her hands and crying bitterly. "O
dame!" said the schoolmaster, drawing near her chair, "is it so bad as
this?" Without replying, she pointed to another room, which the
schoolmaster immediately entered; and there lay his little friend,
half-dressed, stretched upon a bed.
He was a very young boy; quite a little child. His hair still hung in
curls about his face, and his eyes were very bright; but their light was
of heaven, not of earth. The schoolmaster took a seat beside him, and,
stooping over the pillow whispered his name. The boy sprung up, stroked
his face with his hand, and threw his wasted arms around his neck, crying,
that he was his dear, kind friend. "I hope I always was. I meant to be,
God knows," said the poor schoolmaster. "You remember my garden, Henry?"
whispered the old man, anxious to rouse him, for dullness seemed gathering
upon the child, "and how pleasant it used to be in the evening time? You
must make haste to visit it again, for I think the very flowers have
missed you, and are less gay than they used to be. You will come soon,
very soon now, won't you?"
The boy smiled faintly--so very, very faintly--and put his hand upon his
friend's gray head. He moved his lips too, but no voice came from them,--
no, not a sound. In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices,
borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open window. "What's
that?" said the sick child, opening his eyes. "The boys at play, upon the
green." He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above
his head. But the feeble arm dropped powerless down. "Shall I do it?" said
the schoolmaster. "Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply.
"Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll
think of me, and look this way."
He raised his head and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat,
that lay, with slate, and book, and other boyish property, upon the table
in the room. And then he laid him softly down once more, and again clasped
his little arms around the old man's neck. The two old friends and
companions--for such they were, though they were man and child--held each
other in a long embrace, and then the little scholar turned his face to
the wall and fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * *
The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, holding the small, cold hand
in his, and chafing it. It was but the hand of a dead child. He felt that;
and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down.
From "The Old Curiosity Shop," by Dickens.