THE BLOTTED WRITING-BOOK.
THERE were loud demonstrations of joy among the juvenile members of the
household, one morning, when Marcus handed a letter to Kate, for Mr.
Upton, the principal of the academy, and informed them that it contained
his acceptance of the office of assistant teacher in that institution,
for the winter term. The appointment had been offered him several weeks
previous, and had been the subject of much consideration on the part of
Marcus, and of no little interest, also, among the children, who were
all anxious to have Marcus for a teacher, notwithstanding he repeatedly
forewarned them, that if he should show them any particular favor as
their instructor, it would only be by looking more sharply after them
than he did after the other scholars.
“Three cheers for Master Page!” shouted Ronald, and they were given,
with as much power as four noisy throats could command.
“You know me, Marcus,—you’ll excuse me from writing compositions, wont
you?” inquired Kate, when the noise had subsided.
“You know me, too, Marcus,—you wont make me speak pieces, will you?”
said Otis.
“You know me, Master Page,—you wont make me do any thing, will you?”
added Ronald, capping the climax.
“Yes, I know you, you young rogue, and if you don’t walk straight you’ll
catch it!” said Marcus, in reply to the last speaker.
Ronald did not take the admonition much to heart; but concluded his
demonstrations of delight by throwing his cap over an apple tree,
turning two somersets, and crowing like a “rooster,” whose clarion notes
he could imitate with ludicrous fidelity. Then, leaping upon the back of
Otis, who with Kate was just starting for school, he disappeared; but
his voice was uppermost among the joyous shouts and laughter that came
across the fields long after their departure.
Kate and Otis did not usually go home from school at noon, but carried
their dinners with them, the distance being too great to walk. Ronald,
however, generally dined at home, the district school, which he was now
attending, being less than a mile distant from Mrs. Page’s. In the
course of the forenoon, before the hour of school dismission, as Marcus
was at work throwing up muck from a meadow, he was surprised to see
Ronald approaching, on the road leading to the house. “He must be sick,”
thought Marcus, as he noticed how slowly he walked, and how silent and
dejected he appeared. What a change had come over the light-hearted boy,
within two hours!
Ronald appeared to hesitate a moment, and then turned into the meadow,
towards Marcus. As soon as he was within speaking distance, the latter
inquired what the matter was. Ronald made no reply until he had reached
the place where Marcus stood, and then he exclaimed:—
“I’m not going to _that_ school any more—I’ve been licked for nothing,
and I wont stand it!”
“And how came you home at this time of day?” inquired Marcus.
“I ran away from school,” replied Ronald.
“Indeed!” said Marcus; “and will you please to explain why?”
“Mrs. Benham set out to lick me——”
“Begin at the beginning, and tell the whole story,” interrupted Marcus.
“What did she punish you for?”
“Why, you see she was real cross this morning,” said Ronald; “I saw it
as soon as she got there, and thought there’d be a squall before night.
Well, I was studying my lesson, and she came along, and wanted to look
at my writing-book. So I handed it to her, and she opened it, and found
four or five great blots on the page I wrote yesterday afternoon. She
looked real mad, and asked me what it meant, and I told her I didn’t do
it, and didn’t know anything about it. Then she said I lied, and she’d
whip me for blotting the book, and for lying, too. So she made me go out
to the platform, and began to put on the ratan over my hands, just as
hard as she could. See that,” continued Ronald, showing to Marcus
several red stripes on the palm of his hand. “I couldn’t stand that, so
I got the stick away from her, and ran off as fast as I could. I didn’t
blot the book, nor tell a lie, and I wont be whipped for nothing by Mrs.
Benham, I know.”
“Have you told me the truth, about this affair, and nothing but the
truth?” inquired Marcus, fixing a steady gaze upon Ronald.
“Yes, sir, I’ve told the real truth, and nothing else,” replied Ronald.
“Is it the whole truth?” inquired Marcus. “Have you not kept something
back?”
“Why, I pulled the teacher over, when I got the stick away,—I believe I
didn’t tell you about that,” replied Ronald, in a lower tone. “I didn’t
mean to do it, though. She was on the edge of the platform, and I was
standing on the floor, and when I caught the ratan and jerked it away,
she fell upon the floor, somehow, and then I ran off.”
“How do you know that she was not injured by the fall?” inquired Marcus.
“O, it didn’t hurt her, for she chased me out to the door, and shook her
fist at me,—I turned around and saw her,” replied Ronald.
“Well, you have got yourself into a pretty scrape,” said Marcus, “and
it’s my opinion you have not seen the worst of it yet. According to your
own story, you are liable to be arrested for assault and battery, and
what’s to be done, then?”
“I didn’t assault her, nor batter her; she held on to the stick, and I
just pulled her over, that was all,” replied Ronald.
“You resisted your teacher, and pulled her upon the floor; and that is
sufficient, I think, to constitute what the law terms assault and
battery,” said Marcus. “At any rate, I do not see but that you will have
to go back and apologize to her, before the school, and then let her
finish the flogging she intended to give you, if she chooses. I think
that would be the easiest way to settle the difficulty. You had better
go home and tell mother about it, and see what she says.”
Ronald turned away with a sadder heart than ever. He revolted at the
thought of a public apology and submission, and secretly determined that
he would not yield to such a humiliation. He went home and told his
story to Mrs. Page, who seemed much grieved and troubled by his conduct.
She questioned him very closely about the blots on the writing-book,
from which all the trouble sprang; but he protested that he knew nothing
about them, with great apparent sincerity. Still, she remembered that
Ronald was much addicted to lying, when he came to live with her; and
though the habit had been broken up, by patient labor and often severe
discipline, there was a lurking fear that he might possibly have
relapsed, under a strong temptation.
When Marcus came in to dinner, Ronald’s case was freely discussed, and
the conclusion appeared to be unanimous that they could not sustain him
in the course he had taken, even if he were innocent of the fault for
which he was punished. It was argued that a school government must, of
necessity, be a sort of absolute monarchy. The teacher, although
responsible to the community, and more immediately to the committee, if
it be a public school, is _not_ accountable to his pupils. Among _them_
he is king, and resistance to his authority is treason. He may sometimes
seem unreasonable in his requirements, but his scholars are not the best
judges of this. He may even sometimes punish the innocent, by mistake;
but in such a case, it is better to submit to a little temporary pain
and mortification, trusting in a future redress or reparation, rather
than to defy or resist his authority in the presence of the school,
thereby shaking the foundation of his government. So reasoned Mrs. Page,
Aunt Fanny, and Marcus, and they thus reached the conclusion that Ronald
was guilty of a flagrant offence in school, and was liable to expulsion,
if not prosecution.
In the afternoon, just before it was time to dismiss school, Marcus went
to see the teacher, taking Ronald with him, who, by the way, was quite
reluctant to go. Mrs. Benham received them politely, and after the
school closed, Marcus told her Ronald had informed him that he had had a
difficulty with her, and requested her to give him an account of the
affair.
“Something more than a difficulty,” replied the teacher; “it was a
downright attack upon me, and I feel the effects of it yet. I never was
abused in that way by a boy before. The way it commenced was this: I
asked Ronald to let me look at his writing-book, and I found several
large blots on the last page he wrote. I felt doubly provoked, because
his was the neatest writing-book in the boys’ department, and I wished
it kept nice, for the committee to examine. When I called him to account
for the blots, he answered, as children are apt to do in such a case,
that he didn’t know anything about them, and never saw them before. That
was a very improbable story, and I felt almost sure, from his actions,
that he was telling me a lie. So I told him I should be obliged to
punish him if he attempted to deceive me. He answered, in an impudent
tone, that ‘he hadn’t done anything, and wasn’t going to be whipped for
nothing.’ I talked with him further about it, and tried to persuade him
to tell the truth, but he grew more obstinate and saucy, and threatened
that he would never come to school again if I punished him. I thought it
was time then to take him in hand, so I began to punish him with the
ratan; but before I had given him half a dozen blows, he caught hold of
the stick, and in jerking it away from me, some how threw me down upon
the floor. He then ran off and took my stick with him. I hurt my
shoulder, in falling, and it is quite sore, now.”
“You didn’t tell me you were impudent, Ronald; why did you keep that
back?” inquired Marcus.
“I didn’t know that I was impudent,” replied Ronald.
“You said I shouldn’t punish you, and that you would never come to
school again if I did; shouldn’t you call that impudent, Marcus?”
inquired the teacher.
“Yes, I call that impudent language, when addressed to a teacher,”
replied Marcus. “Still, I think he may not have _intended_ to be
saucy—that is a fault he is not much addicted to. What did you do with
Mrs. Benham’s stick, Ronald?”
“I broke it, and threw it into the swamp,” replied Ronald.
Marcus expressed a wish to see the blotted writing-book, and it was
handed to him. After a close examination, he discovered that the blots
were of a lighter color than the writing upon the page, indicating one
of two things: 1st, They were made with a different ink from that which
Ronald used; or, 2d, They had been recently made, and the ink had not
yet acquired its perfect color from contact with the air. This
discovery, however, gave no clew to the mystery, although it proved that
Ronald did not blot the book when he last used it. Ronald now renewed
his protestations of innocence, with such apparent sincerity, that
Marcus felt satisfied he was telling the truth, especially as he had not
known him to adhere stubbornly to a falsehood for several years. His
teacher also admitted the possibility of his innocence so far as that
offence was concerned, but thought he had done enough, independent of
that, to justify her in excluding him from the school.
“We admit that he has done wrong,” said Marcus, “but we should be very
sorry to have him expelled from school. He expects to leave next month,
but he mustn’t go with such a stain as this upon his name. On what
conditions will you consent to his coming back to school?”
Mrs. Benham thought a moment, and then replied:—
“I do not wish to be harsh or unreasonable with Ronald. If he is sorry
for what he has done, and is willing to say so before the school, that
is enough. As the offence was committed before the whole school, I do
not think I ought to ask less than that.”
“I think that is reasonable,” replied Marcus. “Are you willing to do it,
Ronald?”
Ronald made no reply until the question had been repeated several times,
and then he merely shook his head negatively.
“Well, perhaps he will change his mind before to-morrow morning,” said
Marcus, addressing the teacher; and bidding her good evening, he started
for home, followed by Ronald.
Marcus said little to the boy, on their way home, preferring to leave
him to his own thoughts—not very pleasant company to be sure, but
perhaps the best for him, under the circumstances. Before Ronald went to
bed, however, Mrs. Page talked with him a little while about the affair.
There were three classes of motives by which she endeavored to persuade
him to comply with the teacher’s requirement. First she appealed to his
affection for her—a motive that seldom failed to take effect upon
Ronald. Then she appealed to reason, and tried to overcome him by
argument. Finally she resorted to a lower and more selfish class of
motives, and portrayed the disgrace of being expelled from school, and
the instantaneous relief of mind he would find in confessing his fault.
Still the proud spirit was unsubdued.
After a troubled night, Ronald awoke in quite as unhappy a frame of mind
as ever. He went about his morning’s work, silently, and the other
children, not wishing to intermeddle in his trouble, kept so much aloof
that he fancied they shunned him. Oscar, however, remembering a lesson
that had recently been impressed upon his mind, cast his influence upon
the right side, and advised Ronald to yield. Still the stubborn will
revolted at the thought.
It was a settled principle with Mrs. Page, that when a child refuses to
be governed by such motives as may be drawn from love, reason, the hope
of reward, and the fear of punishment, it is time for authority to
assume its stern sway. Having exhausted these motives upon Ronald, in
vain, there remained but one other—YOU MUST; and this she proceeded to
apply.
“Ronald,” she said, a little while before school time, “it is time to be
fixing for school; and here is a note which I wish you to take to the
teacher.”
“Have I got to go to school to-day?” inquired Ronald, in a tone of
surprise, as though such a possibility had not occurred to him.
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Page, in a calm but firm manner, “you are going to
school this morning, and as soon as it opens you will make a public
apology for your conduct yesterday. I have written to your teacher that
you will do so. You must carry a stick, too, in place of the one you
threw away. Marcus will give it to you.”
“But what must I say?” inquired Ronald, his eyes swimming with tears.
“Tell her you are sorry for what you did yesterday, and ask her to
forgive you. That is all you need say.”
With a sad countenance and a heavy heart, Ronald turned his steps
towards the school-house. Reluctant though he was to go, he hurried on
his way, hoping to reach the school-room before many of the scholars had
assembled. He began to realize his unpleasant situation as he noticed
that a group of little girls were eyeing him curiously, and evidently
making him the subject of remark. Soon a squad of boys noticed his
approach, and commenced a volley of rough salutations.
“Halloo, Ron! going to take the rest of that licking to-day?” cried one.
“Ha, old fellow! you’ll catch it—I bet you will,” said another.
“You’ve got to be turned out of school—teacher said so,” cried out
another.
Ronald passed on without replying to his young tormentors, and entering
the school-room, deposited the letter and the new ratan upon the
teacher’s desk. He then took his seat, and tremblingly awaited the
opening of the school. Mrs. Benham soon came in, and, after hastily
reading the letter, gave the signal for the school to assemble. As soon
as the opening exercises were over, Ronald arose, and in a low,
tremulous voice said:—
“Mrs. Benham, I am very sorry for what I did yesterday, and I beg your
pardon.”
Perfect stillness reigned throughout the room, broken only by the sobs
of Ronald, as he sat down and burst into tears. The painful silence was
quickly relieved by the teacher, who, grasping Ronald kindly by the
hand, said, with much feeling:—
“I forgive you, with all my heart, Ronald, and I am glad you have
manliness enough to confess your fault, and ask forgiveness. You have
acted very honorably, in doing this, and I shall think all the better of
you for it, hereafter. We will bury the past and be good friends again,”
and she gave his hand a new shake. Then turning to the school she
continued, “I have a confession to make, too. I am now satisfied that
Ronald was not guilty of the offence for which I undertook to punish him
yesterday. He says he does not know how his writing-book was blotted,
and I believe him. I was too hasty, in punishing him, and am sorry for
it. I ask his forgiveness. And I hope the one that blotted the book will
come forward and own it, and relieve him from all suspicion of
falsehood.”
The teacher paused, and looked around the room, but no one responded to
the call. She then continued:—
“I am very sorry to think there is one here who can be so dishonorable,
and unjust, and mean, as to try to conceal his fault under these
circumstances. I am sure he cannot have a very quiet conscience.”
The kind, forgiving spirit of the teacher, and her readiness to
acknowledge her own error, completely subdued the proud heart of Ronald.
He felt truly glad that he had confessed his fault. Indeed, with his
present feelings, he would have cheerfully done it, of his own free
will. Not only was a heavy burden removed from his mind, but he felt a
new and stronger affection for his teacher, realizing the truth of the
saying, that “whoever is forgiven much, will love much.”
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