William has been to school for over a year, and his teacher
says to him one day: “Now, William, I am afraid your father
will think that I am not doing well by you; you must write
a composition--you must send your father a good composition
to show what you are doing.” Well, William never did write
a composition, and he does not know how. “Oh, write about
something that you do know about--write about your father’s
farm,” and so, being goaded to his task, William says: “A cow
is a useful animal. A cow has four legs and two horns. A cow
gives good milk. I love good milk.--William Bradshaw.” The
master looks over his shoulder and says: “Pooh! your father will
think you are a cow. Here, give me that composition, I’ll fix
it.” So he takes it home and fixes it. Here it reads: “When the
sun casts off the dusky garments of the night, and appearing
o’er the orient hills, sips the dew-drops pendant from every
leaf, the milkmaid goes a-field, chanting her matin song,” and
so on, and so on. Now, I say that, rhetorically, the master’s
composition was unspeakably better than William’s; but as a part
of William’s education, his poor, scrawly lines are unspeakably
better than the one that has been “fixt” for him.--HENRY
WARD BEECHER.
(880)
=Education of Indians=--See INDIANS, AMERICAN.
=Education, Self=--See READING BY SCHEDULE.