FLAMES IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.
"Good morning," said Dr. Gresham, approaching Robert and Iola. "How are
you both? You have mended rapidly," turning to Robert, "but then it was
only a flesh wound. Your general health being good, and your blood in
excellent condition, it was not hard for you to rally."
"Where have you been, Doctor? I have a faint recollection of having seen
you on the morning I was brought in from the field, but not since."
"I have been on a furlough. I was running down through exhaustion and
overwork, and I was compelled to go home for a few weeks' rest. But now,
as they are about to close the hospital, I shall be permanently
relieved. I am glad that this cruel strife is over. It seemed as if I
had lived through ages during these last few years. In the early part of
the war I lost my arm by a stray shot, and my armless sleeve is one of
the mementos of battle I shall carry with me through life. Miss Leroy,"
he continued, turning respectfully to Iola, "would you permit me to ask
you, as I would have someone ask my sister under the same circumstances,
if you have matured any plans for the future, or if I can be of the
least service to you? If so, I would be pleased to render you any
service in my power."
"My purpose," replied Iola, "is to hunt for my mother, and to find her
if she is alive. I am willing to go anywhere and do anything to find
her. But I will need a standpoint from whence I can send out lines of
inquiry. It must take time, in the disordered state of affairs, even to
get a clue by which I may discover her whereabouts."
"How would you like to teach?" asked the Doctor. "Schools are being
opened all around us. Numbers of excellent and superior women are coming
from the North to engage as teachers of the freed people. Would you be
willing to take a school among these people? I think it will be uphill
work. I believe it will take generations to get over the duncery of
slavery. Some of these poor fellows who came into our camp did not know
their right hands from their left, nor their ages, nor even the days of
the month. It took me some time, in a number of cases, to understand
their language. It saddened my heart to see such ignorance. One day I
asked one a question, and he answered, "I no shum'."
"What did he mean?" asked Iola.
"That he did not see it," replied the doctor. "Of course, this does not
apply to all of them. Some of them are wide-awake and sharp as steel
traps. I think some of that class may be used in helping others."
"I should be very glad to have an opportunity to teach," said Iola. "I
used to be a great favorite among the colored children on my father's
plantation."
In a few days after this conversation the hospital was closed. The sick
and convalescent were removed, and Iola obtained a position as a
teacher. Very soon Iola realized that while she was heartily appreciated
by the freedmen, she was an object of suspicion and dislike to their
former owners. The North had conquered by the supremacy of the sword,
and the South had bowed to the inevitable. But here was a new army that
had come with an invasion of ideas, that had come to supplant ignorance
with knowledge, and it was natural that its members should be unwelcome
to those who had made it a crime to teach their slaves to read the name
of the ever blessed Christ. But Iola had found her work, and the freed
men their friend.
When Iola opened her school she took pains to get acquainted with the
parents of the children, and she gained their confidence and
co-operation. Her face was a passport to their hearts. Ignorant of
books, human faces were the scrolls from which they had been reading for
ages. They had been the sunshine and shadow of their lives.
Iola had found a school-room in the basement of a colored church, where
the doors were willingly opened to her. Her pupils came from miles
around, ready and anxious to get some "book larnin'." Some of the old
folks were eager to learn, and it was touching to see the eyes which had
grown dim under the shadows of slavery, donning spectacles and trying to
make out the words. As Iola had nearly all of her life been accustomed
to colored children she had no physical repulsions to overcome, no
prejudices to conquer in dealing with parents and children. In their
simple childish fashion they would bring her fruits and flowers, and
gladden her lonely heart with little tokens of affection.
One day a gentleman came to the school and wished to address the
children. Iola suspended the regular order of the school, and the
gentleman essayed to talk to them on the achievements of the white race,
such as building steamboats and carrying on business. Finally, he asked
how they did it?
"They've got money," chorused the children.
"But how did they get it?"
"They took it from us," chimed the youngsters. Iola smiled, and the
gentleman was nonplussed; but he could not deny that one of the powers
of knowledge is the power of the strong to oppress the weak.
The school was soon overcrowded with applicants, and Iola was forced to
refuse numbers, because their quarters were too cramped. The school was
beginning to lift up the home, for Iola was not satisfied to teach her
children only the rudiments of knowledge. She had tried to lay the
foundation of good character. But the elements of evil burst upon her
loved and cherished work. One night the heavens were lighted with lurid
flames, and Iola beheld the school, the pride and joy of her pupils and
their parents, a smouldering ruin. Iola gazed with sorrowful dismay on
what seemed the cruel work of an incendiary's torch. While she sat,
mournfully contemplating the work of destruction, her children formed a
procession, and, passing by the wreck of their school, sang:--
"Oh, do not be discouraged,
For Jesus is your friend."
As they sang, the tears sprang to Iola's eyes, and she said to herself,
"I am not despondent of the future of my people; there is too much
elasticity in their spirits, too much hope in their hearts, to be
crushed out by unreasoning malice."