Miss Layton continued to teach in S---- for several years, until Ella
was quite done going to school. When Ella had left school, she thought
she would like to teach, but aunt Prudence said, "No, there is no need
of your teaching. I have enough to support us both, and you must stay
at home and learn housework and sewing for a year at least."
Ella of course did as her aunt wished; she stayed at home and worked,
trying to do everything just as her aunt wanted it done; but Miss
Prudence was very particular indeed, and it was often a very difficult
matter to please her. Everything must be done exactly in _her_ way, or
it was not done right at all; and sometimes she would not explain how
she wished a thing done, and then, after it was finished, she scolded
because it was not done exactly her way. All this was very trying, and
Ella had much need to pray for patience, and not only to pray, but to
watch to keep her quick temper from getting the better of her. Daily
and hourly she asked God to help her to 'let patience have her perfect
work,' and to those who knew what an ungovernable temper she had had in
her childhood, it was really surprising to see how very patiently she
bore with all her aunt's vexatious ways.
About a year after Ella had quit school, Miss Layton went away to keep
house for a brother of hers, who had lately lost his wife. A few days
before she left, she and Mary, and Ella were taking a walk together, as
they had often done before.
"O Miss Layton, I am so sorry you are going away!" said Ella, sadly.
"But not so despairing, I hope, as _little_ Ellie was on a former
occasion of the kind. Ah, I cannot call you _little_ Ellie now, seeing
that you are fully half a head taller than myself."
"No;" said Ella, answering the first part of Miss Layton's remark, "I
am not despairing, for though very dear, you are not my best friend
now."
"No, dear Ella, and I am glad to know that I am not. Glad, _very_
glad to know that you have a Friend who has promised never to leave
nor forsake you, and whose love will never grow cold; with whom is no
variableness nor shadow of turning, 'Jesus Christ, the same yesterday,
to-day, and for ever.' How consoling when disappointed in the affection
of earthly friends,--saddened by their estrangement, their absence, or
their death--oh, how sweet to turn to that love that knows no change;
to think of him who ever liveth, who is ever present, and who, having
once loved us, will love us to the _end_--of him 'whom having not seen,
we love; in whom, though now we see him not, yet believing, we rejoice
with joy unspeakable and full of glory!'"
"Dear Miss Layton," said Mary, "we shall miss you very much indeed.
How many sweet talks we have had together, of our best Friend, and our
heavenly home!"
"Yes, Mary, and when I am gone, you and Ellie must talk together of
these things. You must 'consider one another to provoke unto love and
to good works.' My dear girls, I hope you will ever be earnest, working
Christians, striving to bring forth much fruit, that you may glorify
your Father in heaven. You both profess to be followers of Christ; you
have named the name of Jesus. Oh, be careful that you bring no reproach
upon that blessed name; be careful to depart from iniquity, remembering
that the world around you will judge of religion by the influence it
has upon your life and conduct. There can be no such thing as an idle
Christian; we are commanded to 'walk in wisdom toward them that are
without, redeeming the time,'--to 'work while it is called to-day,
because the night cometh, when no man can work.' Then strive ever to
be about your Master's business, use every talent in the service of
Christ, that in the last great day you may hear the welcome plaudit,
'Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of
thy Lord.' Many persons seem to think that it is only the minister
whose duty it is to labour for the conversion of sinners, but that
is entirely a mistaken notion; the Bible says nothing of the kind,
and it certainly is both the duty and the privilege of each and every
Christian to labour to bring souls to Christ.
'Wealth, talent, labour, freely give;
Spend and be spent that they may live;
What has your Saviour done for you--
And what for him would you not do?'
"And that you may be able to do this, try to keep your own hearts full
of love to him; pray for his Spirit; read every day, and meditate upon
some portion of his life, and talk often together of what he has done
and suffered for you, and of those heavenly mansions he has gone to
prepare. 'Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another;
and the Lord hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance was
written before him, for them that feared the Lord, and that thought
upon his name.' Remember, my dear young friends, that this is not your
rest, this world is not your home. You are strangers and pilgrims who
seek a better country, even an heavenly, having no more interest in
this world, than a traveller feels in the country through which he is
passing, to reach his home; then be careful that your affections are
not placed upon it, for 'if any man love the world, the love of the
Father is not in him.' Remember, that you are not your own, and have no
right to live for yourselves; for you have been bought with a price,
even the precious blood of Jesus Christ, and are to be a peculiar
people zealous of good works. May the love of Christ ever constrain you
to labour diligently in his service!"
It was only a few weeks after Miss Layton had left them, that Miss
Clinton lost nearly all her property, having nothing left but the
house in which they lived, with a few acres of ground around it. Miss
Prudence, who had always looked upon poverty as disgraceful, was very
much distressed and mortified by her loss; but she was of much too
active a disposition, to sit down and waste time in useless fretting.
"I never was rich," said she to Ella, "but I never was _poor_ before. I
never had to work for my living, but that we'll both have to do now. I
shall move away to some other place, however, for I'm not going to stay
here to be talked about and pitied for the change in my circumstances,
by people that know me. I shall just go off amongst strangers."
Ella would have preferred remaining amongst friends, but as her aunt
did not consult her at all, she kept her opinions and feelings to
herself.
"Well, well," continued Miss Prudence, "I do think it's very hard to
have to lose all now, when I'm beginning to grow old. You don't seem to
take it much to heart, Ella, but I can tell you, you may live to beg
your bread yet."
"Oh no, aunt Prudence," said Ella; "I have not the least fear of ever
coming to that. Does not David say, 'I have been young, and now I am
old, yet have I never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging
bread?' And God says, 'Bread shall be given him; his waters shall be
sure;' and if you are growing old, aunt, I am young and strong, and
can work for us both; and thanks to you, I have a good education that
qualifies me to teach, and I have no doubt that I can get a school
somewhere; so cheer up, for I am sure we shall do finely, and I shall
dearly love to be able to do something towards repaying you for all the
care and trouble you have had with me."
"You don't know anything about it, Ella; you've no idea of the evils of
poverty," said Miss Prudence.
"I know, aunt, that the Bible says, 'A man's life consisteth not in the
abundance of the things which he possesseth,' and that we have no need
to be unhappy, because we are poor."
In a few weeks after this conversation took place, Miss Clinton had
found a tenant for her house, and she and Ella had removed to a little
town, some forty or fifty miles distant, where they rented two or
three rooms in a small house, and Miss Prudence took in sewing. Ella
had brought a letter of introduction from her pastor in S---- to Mr.
Thomas, the minister, whose preaching she and her aunt now attended;
and as soon as they were settled, she called and presented it. Mr.
Thomas received her very politely and kindly, telling her that he had
noticed them in church the previous Sabbath, and intended calling on
them soon, and then he inquired if there was anything he could do for
her.
Ella told him of her desire to open a school, asking him if he could
tell her of any suitable room, and if he thought she could find pupils
enough to make it worth while for her to make the attempt.
He replied encouragingly, saying he knew of a room that would suit
very well, if she could get it, as he thought it likely she could, and
that he had no doubt she would soon find scholars enough to fill it,
as such a school as she proposed teaching was very much needed in the
town; adding that he would go with her now, if she liked, to see about
the room, and to call on two or three families that he thought would
probably send to her. Ella gladly assented, and they went; first in
search of the room--which after some little trouble they succeeded in
securing--and then to call on the families Mr. Thomas had mentioned.
As a person introduced by their minister, Ella was received very kindly
by all, and several promised to send their children if she should open
a school. She returned home in excellent spirits, to tell her aunt of
her success.
"You seem very much elated, Ella," said Miss Prudence, "but I warn
you that things won't always look so bright. You will find enough to
damp your spirits even before you commence your school, and plenty of
trouble afterwards, I'll assure you."
"I hope you may prove a false prophet this time, aunt," said Ella,
smiling. Miss Prudence only replied by a shake of the head, and the
next day's experience proved to Ella the truth of what she had said.
Mr. Thomas had told Ella she ought to call from house to house
inquiring for scholars, as that was the custom of the place, and the
only way to collect a good school. She determined to follow his advice,
and as soon as her morning work was done up, she put on her things, and
started out to do so. To Ella, who was naturally diffident and retiring
in her disposition, this was a very disagreeable and trying business.
She called at several houses before she found any pupils. Some had no
children, or only those that were too young to send, and some preferred
sending to the public school, or thought they needed their children at
home.
She was beginning to feel quite discouraged, when she found herself in
front of a large house which bore the appearance of the abode of wealth.
"I will go in here," she said to herself, "they must be rich and _able_
to send their children, if they have any, and I think I hear little
voices."
She rang the door-bell. A servant appeared, and in answer to her
inquiry for the lady of the house, ushered her into a handsomely
furnished parlor, where she sat waiting, what seemed to her a very long
time. At last the lady entered, made a slight bow, and sat down waiting
for Ella to speak first. Her heart beat quickly.
"I am about opening a school," said she, in a timid voice, "and I
called to ask, if you had any children to send."
"Oh, you're the Miss Clinton that I heard was about starting a school!
Yes, I have three I'd like to send, but how much do you ask a quarter?"
"Two dollars and a half for little ones, and for others according to
their studies."
"Oh, my! that's too much entirely! Why there's my Annie has never
been to school in her life, and don't know one letter from another. I
couldn't _think_ of paying that much for her, and Howard only spells
in two or three letters, and Jane is just beginning geography. You
oughtn't to charge so much for little ones, for you know we only send
them to get them out of the way, and we don't expect them to learn
much. Any body can teach A B C you know, and I think teaching must be
very easy work."
"The little ones are very troublesome, you know," said Ella, "and
don't you think it is worth something to have them taken care of for
six hours every day?"
"Well I sha'n't pay any more than a dollar and a half for my two
youngest, and two for Jane. You must remember that you're just
commencing, and nobody expects to make anything the first year in any
business. You can't expect to have many scholars at first, because how
are we to know that you are a good teacher? and if you want people to
send their children, you'll have to take them very cheap."
"It would not pay at all, ma'am, at the rate you propose," said Ella;
"you must remember that I have to furnish my room, and pay my rent,
and very soon I will have to buy fuel. And if I am to have but few
scholars, it seems to me that it's only an additional reason why I need
to ask a good price."
"Oh, well, you can't expect to make anything the first year; I've
often heard business men say so; but I've told you what I'm willing to
give for my children, and I sha'n't pay a cent more. If other people
choose to give more, of course they can do as they please."
Ella sat considering what she had better do.
"Will you take them for that?" said Mrs. Wiley, "I want to have it
settled at once."
"Perhaps I had better," thought Ella, "as I am just commencing, and
they are the first that have offered to-day, though it will be teaching
them for almost nothing, and we need money sadly; but then anything is
better than nothing. Yes, ma'am," she said aloud, "I will take them for
that, as they are the first that have been offered to-day; though I am
sure it is far less than my labour will be worth."
"Oh well, you mustn't expect to get the worth of your labour at first,
for, as I told you before, people never expect to make anything the
first year."
Ella carried a much heavier heart out of that house, than she brought
into it. She felt so discouraged, so heart-sick, that it required
quite an effort to keep back her tears, and she felt as if it were
almost impossible to enter the next house. She was very young, and
this was her first trial of the world. But she remembered that she
was in the path of duty, and sending up a silent prayer for strength
and assistance, she opened the gate, walked quickly up the path, and
knocked at the door. It was opened by a pleasant looking lady, who
kindly invited her to come in and take a seat. Ella sat down, and was
hesitating how to introduce her business, when the lady remarked:
"You are the Miss Clinton, who is about opening a school, I believe?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Ella.
"I am very glad of it indeed, for I don't like to send my children to
the public school; they get into so much bad company there. What are
your terms, Miss Clinton?"
Ella made the same reply she had to Mrs. Wiley.
"Well, that's little enough, I'm sure," said Mrs. Blair, "for I know
children are very troublesome; and I often wonder how teachers ever
have patience to bear with them. I have four large enough to go, and
I shall send them all, if you will take them. I hope they'll behave
themselves, but if they don't, you must either correct them yourself,
or let me know. The youngest is only four years old, but she's a bright
little thing, and I'm sure will learn. Have you been in to see Mrs.
Wiley?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Ella; "she is to send three, but is not willing to
pay much more than half price."
"What a shame! She's perfectly able to pay double the price if she
chose, for Mr. Wiley is the richest man in town; but they are very
close, and never pay more for anything than they are obliged to. But
you ought not to have taken them so low; the best plan is never to take
any for less than your price, unless they are poor, and you do it out
of charity."
"I did not know what was best," said Ella, "but I thought as they
were the first that had offered to-day, and I am but just commencing,
perhaps I had better not refuse."
"It may be so, but don't let anybody else know that you took them for
half price, or they may expect you to do the same for them. I saw
you looked quite down-hearted when you came in, but you must not get
discouraged; there are some mean people here as well as everywhere
else, but there are a great many very nice ones too; and I have no
doubt you will have a very good school, and do finely after a little."
"Thank you; you are very kind," said Ella, gratefully.
"Kind words don't cost anything; so I think we can all afford to give
them," replied Mrs. Blair, smiling.
"Aunt Prudence," said Ella that evening, half laughing and half crying,
"I think I shall find it a puzzling matter to know how to manage my
school; at least if I try to please all the parents. One woman told
me her child would have to be petted and humoured; another, that she
wished me to be very strict with hers. One thinks that they should play
nearly all the time, and another, that they should have scarcely any
play at all. One says I must never strike _her_ child; she will never
send him where there is any whipping done; and judging by what I saw
of him to-day, I think it will be no easy task to manage him, for he
doesn't mind his mother at all. And lastly, another woman tells me I
_must_ whip _her_ child, for she knows I can't manage her without. Now
what am I to do?"
"Well, Ella, you must try to do your duty by them all, and just use
your own judgment about it. It would be impossible to please all the
parents, so you may just as well take your own way."
"Thank you, aunt Prudence, you have quite comforted me. I will take
your advice; try to do my duty, and ask God to give me wisdom, and I
know he will, for he says, 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of
God that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall
be given him.' I am to have some quite large girls, aunt Prudence; some
of them quite as tall and as old as myself."
"Do you think you can manage them?"
"I don't know, I feel a little nervous about it, and should feel _very_
much so, were it not for the promise I just repeated, and this other,
'As thy day, so shall thy strength be.'"
"How fond you are of quoting Scripture, Ella, you seem to have a text
for everything! You are just like your mother for that. I don't see how
you can ever remember and think of them all."
"I suppose it must be because they are so sweet and comforting,"
replied Ella.
Ella lay awake a long time that night, arranging her plans for
conducting her school. It seemed to her a very great undertaking, full
of responsibility, and her thoughts could dwell upon little else for
weeks beforehand. She thought over all Miss Layton's rules, and her
mode of teaching and of managing her scholars, and determined to copy
her as nearly as possible. She remembered that Miss Layton always
opened her school with prayer; must _she_ do that? She shrank at the
thought of doing so before so many young persons, some of whom were
older than herself. "But I _ought_ to do it," said she to herself. "'In
all thy ways acknowledge him;' yes, I _ought_ to do it, and whatever
I _ought_ to do I _can_ do. But I know there are many teachers who do
not,--perhaps, after all, it is not necessary. It would be a great
cross to me to do it. I will pray for my scholars at home, surely that
will be sufficient. No, it will not; I must show them that I am on the
Lord's side, that I am trying to serve him, and am not ashamed to have
it known that I am his servant. I will ask God to deliver me from the
fear of man, and help me to forget all but his presence, that I may not
approach him with lip service, but may come with my _whole heart_. Yes,
I will acknowledge him in all my ways, and he will direct my paths."
Ella succeeded pretty well in collecting a school. She had nearly
twenty scholars present on the first day, and, in accordance with
her resolution, she did open her school with prayer that morning, and
every day afterwards, though for a long time it continued to be a trial
to her to do so. She found many opportunities to practise patience,
both in teaching and governing her scholars. Sometimes they were idle,
or dull; sometimes stubborn, mischievous, or impertinent. Sometimes
they came late, or stayed away altogether, until they were far behind
their classes; and there seemed to be no end to their carelessness,
and forgetfulness concerning books, inks, pens, pencils, &c. &c. Then
at the end of the term she found it both difficult and disagreeable to
collect her dues. And these were not all her trials. She was separated
from her dear Christian friends, Miss Layton, and Mary Young, and she
missed them sadly. And aunt Prudence's temper had not been improved by
poverty, as Ella was often made to feel. But when the weary day with
all its cares and toils was over, and she could be alone with her Bible
and her best Friend, her heavenly Father, how sweet it was to cast
all her cares upon him, to tell him all her griefs, her troubles, her
doubts, and her fears, and to ask him for strength for coming trials!
How sweet to remember 'all his mercies past, and future good implore!'
How sweet to read his blessed word and call each promise hers! How
sweet was the sense of pardoned sin--how sweet to remember that Christ
had kept the law for her, and suffered the penalty in her stead!
Another, though inferior source of comfort was found in writing to, and
receiving letters from Miss Layton, and Mary Young.