MR. BARCLAY’S FAREWELL.
MR. BARCLAY spent a part of Saturday in packing his trunk, preparatory
to leaving Portville on Monday. Walter, having no schoolbooks of his own
at hand, purchased those of his predecessor at a fair valuation, and
arranged to move into his room and receive board on the same terms.
Saturday, as in some of the Eastern States, was a half-holiday. As it
would be his last day in school, Mr. Barclay, after the school had come
to order, took occasion to make the following remarks:
“My friends and scholars: It may be a surprise to some of you when I say
that this day terminates my connection with you as teacher. I found some
time since that the climate of Wisconsin was unfavorable to my health.
Still I didn’t like to leave you until some one should be secured who
could take my place at once, so that you need not lose by the change. I
am happy to say that my successor has been found. Mr. Howard, who is now
present, will take my place on Monday. He is thoroughly qualified for
the position, and if you co-operate with him in his efforts for your
advantage, I am sure that you will have no reason to regret the change
of teachers. For myself, I cannot leave you without great sorrow, since
I may never meet any of you again. I thank you for your unvarying good
conduct during the terms thus far, and hope that things may continue as
pleasantly after I leave you.”
While Mr. Barclay was speaking, many curious glances were cast in the
direction of the new teacher. Walter felt a little embarrassed, and
flushed as he met the united gaze. He felt that he had undertaken a “big
job,” but his courage rose with the occasion, and he determined to spare
no effort to succeed.
“Won’t you say a few words to the scholars, Mr. Howard?” said Barclay,
in a low voice.
“Is it necessary?” returned Walter, who had not prepared himself for a
speech.
“I think it will be expected.”
Whereupon Walter rose, and, after the first slight embarrassment, spoke
as follows: “As Mr. Barclay has told you, I have agreed to take his
place as your teacher on Monday. I did not come to Portville with the
intention of teaching, but, finding that your teacher wished to be
relieved, I have consented to try to fill his place. I shall do my best
to advance you in your studies, and hope to treat you all fairly and
justly. It is so short a time since I was a student myself that I think
I know what you expect in a teacher. I hope we shall be mutually pleased
with each other.”
This speech produced a favorable impression upon the scholars--that is,
upon most of them. There were a few who were disposed to regard Walter
with contempt, as a boy who would be quite incompetent to manage them.
Among these was John Wall, who surveyed the new teacher with a
supercilious air. Walter noticed this, but it did not trouble him much.
If no one chose to trouble him except John, he knew he could get along.
When school was over, Mr. Barclay said: “If the scholars will remain a
few minutes, I shall be glad to introduce them individually to Mr.
Howard.”
Walter rose, and one by one the scholars came up. John Wall did not come
up; but then he had already made acquaintance with Walter, so that it
did not seem necessary. Still, had he been friendly, he would have
advanced with the rest instead of standing aloof, eyeing the scene
askance.
The greeting between Walter and the scholars was generally formal
enough. He had to say very much the same thing to each, and it would
have become monotonous if he had not closely scrutinized each face,
partly that he might associate it with the name, partly to form some
little idea of the character of the boy or girl, and judge whether he or
she was likely to prove agreeable and friendly or otherwise. There were
two faces which he particularly noticed. One attracted him. It was a boy
with dark hair, and a thoughtful, intelligent expression, whom Mr.
Barclay had already spoken of to him as the best scholar in school. His
name was Alfred Clinton. He was apparently fourteen. He was a beginner
in Latin, but, as far as he had gone, was a far more thorough scholar
than John Wall. As Walter’s hand touched his, each felt instinctively
that he had found a friend, though only the usual formal words passed
between them.
The other scholar whom Walter noticed was of very different personal
appearance. His hair was red, his face freckled, and his expression
stolid; but there was something that indicated an unusual degree of
stubbornness. He was sixteen, and, though about Walter’s height, was
more heavily molded, and looked stronger. There was a peculiar smile on
his face as he took Walter’s offered hand, and muttered something in
return to the young teacher’s greeting. Walter felt that the smile boded
mischief, and inwardly determined to look out for Peter Groot, for this
was his name.
Walter was right in distrusting Peter. His idea of a teacher was, that
he must be big enough to “lick” any of the boys; otherwise he had no
right to expect obedience. Now, on examining Walter, he decided that he,
Peter, could “lick him easy,” as he expressed it in conversation with
the other boys. As to obeying a little chap like the master, he made up
his mind that he would do it only so far as it suited him.
“I guess he won’t dare to tackle me,” he said, stretching out a stout
arm with an air of satisfaction. Of course this was said outside of the
school and not within hearing of either of the teachers.
“I hope, Peter, you are not going to make trouble,” said Alfred Clinton,
to whom, with others, this was addressed.
“What makes you wish that?” demanded Peter. “The master ain’t nothin’ to
you.”
“He is going to teach me,” said Alfred, “and I want to profit by his
instructions.”
“He ain’t fit to teach,” said Peter Groot, contemptuously.
“Why isn’t he?”
“I could lick him with one hand.”
“I don’t know about that. But even if you could, that doesn’t prove that
he can’t teach, does it?”
“He isn’t big enough to keep order.”
“Are you going to be disorderly?”
“I guess I won’t trouble him, if he don’t trouble me,” said Peter.
“What do you mean?”
“If he don’t interfere with me, I won’t interfere with him. I ain’t
goin’ to be ordered round by a feller I can lick.”
“He won’t ask anything unreasonable of you,” said Alfred.
“He’d better not,” said Peter Groot, significantly.
“Of course, he will expect us to obey him as the teacher.”
“You kin obey him if you want to; I’m goin’ to do as I please.”
“Why haven’t you done that with Mr. Barclay, Peter?”
“Because he’s stronger than I am.”
It will be seen from this conversation that Peter’s ideas as to the
relation between teacher and scholar were very rudimentary. The
“master,” to him, was the embodiment of sufficient physical force to
keep in due subjection the unruly elements under him, and it was
perfectly legitimate for a scholar to refuse obedience unless the one
who required it was able to enforce the demand.
There was still another scholar who attracted the notice of Walter. This
was a young man of twenty, who stood six feet in his stockings. He
towered above Walter by several inches, and our hero was tempted to
laugh when he reflected that he was about to assume the position of
teacher to one so far his superior in age and size. However, he felt
reassured by the expression of Phineas Morton, which, though heavy, was
friendly and good-natured. He might not be a very active friend, but it
did not seem likely that he would do anything to annoy the teacher.
“Well, Mr. Howard,” said Barclay, as they were walking home, “what are
your first impressions of the scholars?”
“Rather confused,” said Walter, laughing. “I have got the names and
faces of all mixed up together, and can hardly tell one from the other.”
“That was my first experience; but I soon learned to distinguish them.”
“There was one I particularly liked.”
“I can guess who you mean--Alfred Clinton.”
“Yes; he seemed to me very intelligent and attractive.”
“You will find him both. He has more talent than any other scholar.”
“How old is he?”
“Fourteen. His mother is a widow, and I suspect she has a hard time to
get along. You noticed that Alfred was poorly dressed?”
“No, I did not notice that. I only looked at his face.”
“He does errands out of school and whatever work he can find, in order
to assist his mother. I wish he might have a college education. It was
at my suggestion that he commenced Latin, and he does better in it than
any of his class. I am sure you will enjoy teaching him.”
“Do you think I shall enjoy Peter Groot?” asked Walter, with a smile.
“I don’t think you will. He is neither a model scholar nor a model boy.
To tell the truth, I am more afraid he will give you trouble than any
other boy.”
“Did he trouble you?”
“He was impudent to me the second day, and I knocked him over. After
that, he gave me much less trouble.”
“So he needs to be conquered into good behavior?” said Walter.
“It’s about so.” And Barclay looked at our hero with a natural doubt
whether he would be able to cope with the troublesome scholar.
“Does Peter know anything about boxing?” asked Walter, who understood
what was brewing in the mind of his companion.
“Nothing at all. Do you?”
“I have a fair knowledge of it. Peter may be a little stronger, but if
worst comes to worst, I think I am a match for him.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Howard, for I suspect he will give you a
chance to display your science upon him.”
“I wouldn’t undertake to encounter the big fellow--what is his name?”
“Phineas Morton. He won’t require it. If he finds you are a good
teacher, he will stand by you.”
“Then I am not afraid. John Wall probably isn’t very friendly, but I am
not afraid of him.”
“You needn’t fear open violence from him. If he works against you, it
will be in an underhand way.”
“At any rate, the die is cast; I have agreed to take the school, and I
shall do what I can to succeed.
“‘_In battle I’ll fall, or in death be laid low,
With my face to the field, and my feet to the foe._’”
Barclay laughed.
“If you undertake it in that spirit,” he said, “I think you will
succeed. At any rate you have my best wishes.”
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