 | CHAPTER IV. Locke Amsden, The schoolmaster |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
To teach the young idea how to shoot!”
Thomson.
Those who have had much experience in the business of
school-keeping, before yielding their unqualified assent to
the oft-quoted sentiment of the great rural poet which we
have placed over this chapter, would generally, we apprehend,
wish to offer, as legislators say, an amendment to the
proposition, in the shape of a proviso, something like the
following: — Provided always, that the teacher can have
the privilege of selecting his pupils. Such, at all events,
were the feelings of our hero, as, with many misgivings, he
set out, on the appointed day, for the place where he was to
establish a government, in which (since the understood
failure of Mr. Jefferson's experiment of introducing self-government,
on the principles of a republic, into the college
of which he was the founder) the golden mean between
absolute monarchy and anarchy is wholly wanting — a government
over what, he had reason to believe, would prove, in
the present instance, as rebellious a set of subjects as were
ever brought to order beneath the birchen sceptre of a pedagogue.
But however mild his disposition, or unassuming his
general demeanor, Locke Amsden was by no means wanting
in resolution. He possessed, indeed, one of those seemingly
paradoxical characters, so often to be found in the world, and
yet almost as often misunderstood, in which great diffidence
of manner is united with great firmness of purpose, and a
full confidence in the ability to execute. And, consequently,
them, and endeavored to fortify his mind against the approaching
hour of trial. In this, he was much aided by his
resolute little brother, Ben; who, for some secret reason, had
contrived to defeat a previously-made different arrangement
for the present journey, that he might himself attend the
former, in whose success his pride and interest seemed to be
wonderfully awakened.
On reaching the district where he had been engaged,
Locke repaired at once to the residence of his employer, at
whose house, it had been before arranged, he should first
take up his lodgings, as the beginning of that round of
boarding through the district, which here, as in many other
places, was made to add variety, to say the least of it, to the
monotonous life of the schoolmaster. He was received with
much rough cordiality by Bunker, and with some show of
respect by his mastiff-mannered boys. The good dame of
the house soon began to bestir herself in preparation for a
meal for the “new master” and his brother, the latter of
whom, it was understood, after obtaining refreshment for
himself and horse, was to return home that evening.
While the dinner was preparing, Ben, having departed for
the stables, to see to his horse, in company with the boys, with
whom he seemed determined to scrape acquaintance, Locke
and his host soon became engaged in conversation on those
topics in which they had previously discovered themselves to
feel a mutual interest.
“I have felt considerable curiosity, since I became acquainted
with you, the other day,” observed our hero, at a
point in the conversation when the remark might seem
appropriately introduced, “to know how it could have happened,
that so thinking a man as yourself had never learned
to read?”
“Are you quite certain I should have been so much of a
thinker as I am, if I had received a book-education?” said
Bunker, in reply.
“Your knowledge would have been more extensive, in that
case, doubtless, sir; and if you had been the worse thinker
for it, the fault would have been your own, I imagine,”
replied the other.
“All that may be,” remarked Bunker, musingly, “and
perhaps it is so — perhaps it is with learning, as it is with
property, which we never keep and improve so well when
given to us, or get easily, as when it is obtained by our own
exertions — by hard knocks and long digging. But whether
this is so or not, one thing to my mind is certain, and that is,
that more than half of your great book-men are, after all,
but very shallow thinkers; though the way they dress up a
subject with language, generally procures them the credit of
being otherwise; for it is curious enough to see what a deal
of real ignorance a few long words and learned terms are
made to conceal.”
“Ay,” said Locke, “but does not your argument run
against the abuse of learning, rather than its use?”
“Possibly,” replied Bunker; “but, at any rate, I have
often thought, that if I had received an education equal to
some of your great scholars, I should have found out rather
more than most of them appear to have done.”
“Your impressions,” rejoined Locke, “are, I suspect, by
no means uncommon. I formerly thought so myself; but
the more I study, the more I am convinced, that the unlearned
are accustomed to expect much more from the learned than
they should do. Scholars, however profound, can never
discover what God has purposely hidden from the human
mind.”
“There may be something in your remarks,” observed the
to return to your first question — What was the reason I had
never learned to read, was it?”
“It was.”
“Well, I will tell you honestly: it was, first, total want
of opportunity, and then pride, till I had got to be so old a
dog, that I thought I would not attempt to learn any new
tricks.”
“Those are rather unusual reasons, for this country, at
least, are they not?”
“They are the true ones, in my case, nevertheless. My
father was a trapper, and pitched his cabin at the very outskirts
of civilization, on one of the great rivers in Canada, where
schools were wholly out of the question; — even books were
so rare, that I don't recollect of ever seeing but one during
the whole of my boyhood. That one was my mother's old
worn and torn bible, which, at last, a gray squirrel, that
came in through the roof of our cabin, one day when we were
all out, knocked down from a shelf into the fire, as we concluded,
because we saw him escaping with a leaf in his
mouth, to help make his nest. This, as I said, was the only
book I remember to have seen; and this I should not recollect,
probably, but for the singular manner in which it was
destroyed, and the fact also that my mother, when she discovered
her loss, sat down and cried like a child — God bless
her memory! — if she had lived, she would have got another,
and most likely have taught me to read it. But she died
soon after, leaving me, at the age of about five, to the care
of an ignorant hussy, that my father, in due time, married.
Well, there I remained till I was twenty; when I left, and
found my way into this part of the country, among people,
who, to my surprise, could all read and write. I was not
long, however, in discovering, that I was about as ignorant a
heathen as ever came out of the bush. But, instead of going
let people know my condition, and so let pride deprive me
of a blessing which I could have easily obtained. And so it
continued with me, till I married and settled down here on a
new farm; when, if the pride I spoke of died away, its place
was soon supplied by business cares and a lot of little squallers,
that took away all chance or thought of learning to read.
But, though not able to read myself, I can easily get others
to do this for me. And, late years, having bought a good
many books of different kinds for my wife or boys to read to
me, I have got, in this way, and by talking with book-men
both round home and abroad, a pretty tolerable good run of
most that has been printed. And the result has been, that I
have been sadly disappointed in what I used to suppose the
mighty wisdom of books. To be sure, there are many books
that are full of information and true philosophy; but let me
tell you, sir, there is a prodigious sight of nonsense bound
up together in the shape of books.”
The dinner being now announced as in readiness, Locke
went out to call in his brother, whom he at length espied in
the yard of a grist-mill belonging to Bunker, and situated at
no great distance from his house. Ben had here collected
round him not only the young Bunkers, but several other
boys who had come to mill from different parts of the district;
and he was apparently making some communications
to them, to which they were very evidently listening with
considerable interest and surprise. What might be the
nature of his communication, however, Locke, at that time,
neither suspected nor ascertained, as he did not go near
enough to hear what was said, and as Ben, when questioned
on the subject, after joining the other, refused or evaded any
direct answer.
As soon as the brothers had finished the repast which had
been prepared for them, Ben got up his team, and, bidding
he went into his school,” cracked his whip and started off for
home.
The next morning, after breakfast, as Locke was about to
leave for the school-house, for the commencement of his
task, Bunker took him aside: —
“I should like to ask you one question, master,” he said;
“and if you answer it at all, which you can do as you like
about, I hope you will do it candidly.”
“Certainly, I will, Mr. Bunker,” replied the other, in some
surprise.
“Well, I overheard my boys saying last night, that your
brother, who came with you, told them and some others down
at the mill, that you had such a fiery and ungovernable temper,
that your family, as well as all the boys in your neighborhood,
always run from you, when you get offended (as
you often do at almost nothing), lest you should seize an
axe and split their brains out; and he begged of them, with
tears in his eyes, not to cross you in school, or break any of
your orders; for if they did, you would be almost certain to
seize the shovel or a eleft of wood, and kill one of them on
the spot; and then he should have to see his brother hung
for doing only what was natural to him, and what he could n't
help. Now, though I have said nothing, yet I think I see
through the object of this story; and I want to ask you, not
whether it is true — for I think it must be all humbug — but
whether you put your brother up to this little plot, or whether
it was one of his own hatching?”
“It was one solely of his own contriving, and used without
my knowledge or consent,” replied Locke, promptly.
“I am glad of it,” rejoined Bunker; “for, though there
would have been nothing very criminal in such a course, yet,
I confess, it would have lowered you in my opinion. It was
well enough in such a chick as I suspect your brother to be;
he left it; for there is no knowing how much it may help
you in keeping the boys under. So I advise you to keep
your own counsel, go to your school, be decided, but treat
your scholars like men and women, and not like slaves or
senseless puppets, as some of our masters have done, to their
own sorrow, I think. Do this, and I presume you will have
no trouble in managing them. But whatever method you
may take to govern them, be sure that you make them good
thinkers.”
On reaching the school-house, where he found most of the
pupils assembled, Locke soon saw indications, which convinced
him, that Ben's bugbear representations, which had
been made with so much address and apparent honesty that
the truth of them seems not to have been doubted, were
already known to every individual in school; and that, in
consequence, he had become, with the younger portion of
them especially, the object of a terror which he little thought
it would ever be his lot to inspire. This, indeed, was plainly
discoverable the first moment he entered the house; for
coming among them somewhat unexpectedly, while his fancied
traits of character were under discussion, they scattered
for their seats with nearly as much haste and trepidation, as
they would have shown had a dangerous wild beast walked
into the room. And, in two minutes, all was so still, that
not a sound, unless it was the beating of the hearts of the
more timid, could be heard in the apartment. Nor did
the vivid impressions of their new master's severity,
which had thus oddly been received by the scholars, and
which had fairly frightened them into such unwonted stillness,
prove of so temporary a character as he expected.
And often during the day, while arranging his classes or
attending to the ordinary duties of the school, he scarcely
knew whether he felt most secret amusement or pity at the
what trembling anxiety his movements were watched, and
saw how many furtive and expressive glances were cast at
his face, in which, as their excited imaginations then pictured
him, they appeared to read that which put all thoughts of
roguery or misbehavior to instant flight. All this, to be sure,
had reference mainly to the younger portion of the pupils.
The older part, it is true, though their demeanor was marked
by a respectful quietness, appeared rather to be debating in
their minds the expediency of taking their former courses, than
entertaining any particular alarms for themselves, while their
behavior should be, to a decent degree, orderly. And during
the intermissions of the first two or three days, little groups
of the usually insubordinate might have been seen engaged
in discussing the momentous question, how far it might be
safe or feasible to attempt to subjugate the master, in the
same way they had several of his predecessors. In all these
consultations, however, Tom Bunker, whom his father had
secretly engaged to take Locke's part in case of trouble,
unexpectedly hung back, telling them they could do as they
pleased; but perhaps they would find out, that they had
better let the man alone. This coming, as it did, from their
acknowledged champion, and one who had generally acted as
ringleader in their former outbreaks against their teachers,
not a little dampened the ardor of the advocates of rebellion.
And after a few idle threats and expressions of defiance,
thrown out by the way of warding off any imputations which
might be made on their courage for retreating from their position,
they finally relinquished their designs on the master, and
concluded to submit to his authority, at least till he became
the aggressor, in those acts of tyranny that they expected he
would ere long exhibit towards them. The movements of
the latter, therefore, were watched with no less silent suspicion
by the larger, than with fear by the smaller pupils,
very wisely shaped his course for establishing his authority
on a more permanent foundation than can ever be raised in
feelings where fear alone is the governing principle. While
dignity and decision of manner marked his conduct in enforcing
good order in school, he yet made kindness and courtesy
to characterize his general demeanor towards all his scholars.
This course he adopted no less from the suggestions of his
own mind, drawn from the remembrance of the effect which
kindness and respect in a teacher always produced on his
feelings when he himself was a pupil, than from the recommendation
of Bunker, “to treat his scholars like men and
women.”
The sentiment of the last-named person on this subject is
indeed one well deserving of the consideration of all instructors
of youth. Few teachers seem to be aware what a just
estimate children put upon manners — how quickly they pass
a sentence of condemnation on all that is coarse, contemptuous,
or unfeeling, and how soon they appreciate every thing
that denotes respect and kindness towards them. If teachers
would properly consider this, they would find less difficulty,
perhaps, in accounting for the little influence which they often
find themselves capable of exercising over the minds of their
pupils: for almost as certain as one pursues the first-named
course of conduct towards them, will his precepts be rejected;
while the precepts of him who exhibits the last-mentioned
conduct will be readily received, and treasured up for improvement.
And such was the effect of the kind and judicious manner
which Locke displayed among the rough and uncultured
pupils he had undertaken to control. When they saw, that,
instead of turning out the cruel and capricious tyrant they
had expected, he wanted nothing of them but what their own
consciences told them was just and reasonable, and especially
courtesy, when their behavior was not exceptionable,
all the mingled feelings of hatred, fear, and suspicion, with
which they had armed themselves in anticipation of an opposite
treatment, rapidly melted into an affectionate reverence,
that not only destroyed, in most of them, all inclination for
insubordinate conduct, but made them anxious to gain his
approbation; the more particularly so, doubtless, from the
belief they still entertained, that his displeasure would be
attended with fearful consequences to themselves.
The first object of our instructor, that of gaining willing
ears for what he wished to impart, was now, to a good degree,
accomplished. And no sooner had he made sure of
this important point, than he began to redouble his exertions
to rouse their minds from that cold and listless intellectual
condition in which they were unconsciously sunk, and which
caused them to look upon learning and all attempts at
mental excellence as a mere matter of secondary concern.
This he did, not so much by general exhortation (for he well
knew that scholars generally hate preaching masters), as by
what logicians call arguments ad hominem, addressing the
self-love of one, the vanity of another, the curiosity of a
third, and so on; the dispositions of each having been previously
studied for the purpose. In fine, he adopted almost
as many expedients as he had pupils, in inciting them to
push forward in their particular studies, and in awakening
in their bosoms a love of learning. And, in doing this, he
also labored incessantly, with argument, ridicule, and such
familiar illustrations as they could best understand and
appreciate, in showing them the superiority of mind over
matter, or mere physical powers; and in setting up the true
standard of excellence among them, instead of the false one,
to attain to which seemed hitherto to have been the only
object of their emulation. The happy results of these well-directed
wrestling ring, the leaping match, and other of the rough
athletics, in which it had been their chief pride to excel,
were no longer the main topic of conversation; and the
feats of bullies and hectoring blades, exercised upon school-masters,
ministers, and deacons, were no longer considered a
matter of boasting. The keen interest formerly manifested
on all these subjects, indeed, had so sensibly declined, that
they were now seldom mentioned. But in their place were
heard, both during the intermissions of school, and the
evenings spent at home, almost nothing but talk of studies,
anecdotes of the school, or the discussion of the arithmetical
puzzles, and the various interesting and curious questions
relative to the phenomena of nature, which the teacher was
in the habit of putting out, with which to exercise the minds
of his pupils. The parents of the district witnessed this
change in their children with no less surprise than pleasure,
and wondered by what magic it could have been effected.
Bunker, the committee-man, daily grew proud of his selection
of a teacher, and declared he had already done more
towards making good thinkers of his scholars than any of
their former instructors had done in a whole winter. In
short, before two weeks had elapsed, the whole Horn-of-the-Moon
was ringing with praises of the new master.
But although young Amsden's school was fast becoming
what he had so sedulously labored to make it, and although
his pupils had generally, since the expiration of the first
half week of their attendance, so far shown themselves
disposed to obedience and propriety of behavior, as led him
to believe that no attempt would now be made to resist his
orders, yet it was not long before he found he should not be
permitted to avoid the test to which a master's firmness and
discretion are almost invariably put, in maintaining his authority,
at some period or other of his school.
This period, which forms a sort of crisis in the teacher's
government, resulting either in its overthrow, or in its establishment
on a permanent basis, generally occurs about the third
week of the school. After the first few days of the school,
during which the restraints which scholars feel under a new
master, or the fears they may entertain of his yet untried
spirit and promptitude in administering punishment, usually
keep them quiet and orderly, they begin to take liberties;
though at first of so trivial a character, that a teacher, not
finding in them any particular cause of complaint, suffers
them to pass unnoticed. From this, the more evil-disposed
go on crowding, crowding a little, and a little more, upon his
authority, till they get so bold that he finds the most decisive
measures will alone save his dominion from a total
overthrow.
Something like this was the process which Locke had
perceived going on in his school, without knowing exactly
where to interpose his authority; when one, a boy of about
fourteen, who had been more forward than others in the
course, one day grew so bold as to place his orders at absolute
defiance. Perceiving at once that his government was
at an end, unless the offender was conquered, and indignant
at his unexpected audacity, our hero, under the impulse of
the moment, was about to chastise him on the spot. A second
thought, however, told him that he was too much irritated
to do this now with the best effect on the offender, or on
others inclined to become so; and he accordingly apprised
the boy of the reason for deferring his punishment, but promised
him, at the same time, that punishment would certainly
follow. Although this act of disobedience was not instigated
by any one, even by those from whom he had most reason
to apprehend difficulties, yet either that, or the threatened
chastisement, seemed to produce considerable sensation
among them, by awakening, perhaps, remembrances of their
and in exciting in some degree their sleeping inclinations to
take some such part when the punishment of the present
offender should be inflicted. In addition to these suspicious
appearances, he noticed, after his school was dismissed
for the day, considerable mysterious whispering among two
or three of those just mentioned, and overheard one of
them, a relative of the offender, trying to excite the others
to join him in preventing the threatened punishment, which
they supposed would take place on the opening of the school
the next morning. But our hero, unmoved by these unexpected
and somewhat ominous demonstrations, resolved to go
resolutely forward and do his duty, whatever might be the
consequences to himself. On his way homeward, however,
while reflecting upon the subject of school-punishment, its
object, and the most effective manner of administering it to
obtain that object, he began seriously to doubt the wisdom
and expediency of the custom which he had always witnessed,
and which he had proposed to follow in the present case, —
that of inflicting chastisements in open school. He reasoned,
and from a just notion of the human heart too, that the
presence of companions, whom the delinquent knew to be
looking on to see with what spirit he bore up under the
operation, that they might afterwards praise him for the
spunk he exhibited, or taunt him for his weakness if he was
seen to succumb, would in most instances have a tendency
to arm him with feelings of pride and obstinacy, which
would not only destroy all the beneficial effects to be gained
from the punishment, but often make him more obdurate than
before. So strongly, indeed, did these considerations weigh
on the mind of Locke, that he at length determined to adopt
a different mode of punishing the boy in question; and after
trying to judge of his own feelings, were he placed in the
offender's situation, as to what course would most conduce to
and calling to mind all he had ever observed of the effects
of punishment on others, he at last hit on a plan which
he determined to carry into immediate execution. Accordingly,
after obtaining his supper, he repaired at once to the
culprit's residence, and, taking his father aside, made known
the boy's conduct, the absolute necessity of his punishment,
and gave his reasons for wishing to inflict that punishment
in private; ending with a request, that the other should call
out his boy, and that they all three should repair together to
the school-house for the purpose he had mentioned.
“Why, the boy deserves a basting richly enough, no
doubt,” observed the father; “yes, and a good one too. And,
if I was you, I would give it to him. But what on earth do
you want my help in flogging him for? Why, that is part
of what we are paying you for, I take it, master.”
“I wish for no help in the mere chastisement,” replied
Locke; “but I think your presence would add much to its
beneficial effects, and it is only for your son's good that I
request you to go.”
“Well, well,” rejoined the former, “if you think it will do
the boy any good, — and I don't know but you are half right
about it; for I think if I was a boy, I should dislike most
confoundedly to be licked by a schoolmaster before my
father — if you think this, why, I will go with you; but I
kinder hate to, that's a fact.”
His reluctance having been thus wisely overcome, the father
promptly called out his boy, who, not daring to disobey
the command which was then given him, followed the two
others, in dogged silence, to the school-house. On reaching
the house, which, as expected and desired, was entirely
solitary, Locke raised a light, and proceeded to the painful
task before him. He first kindly addressed the offender; and,
in a manner calculated to humble without irritating, set forth
suffering his offence to pass without punishment, which he
had been called there to receive, and then administered a
chastisement of adequate severity. After this, he was again
addressed by his teacher, the father occasionally putting in a
word, for nearly an hour, before the expiration of which he
gave unequivocal evidence of not only being deeply penitent
for the past, but resolved on good behavior for the future.
While so many alterations and improvements have been
made in the education and management of children and
youth at school, it is somewhat remarkable, that so little
variation has taken place in the mode and character of school
punishments, which, with some slight abatement, perhaps, in
degree and frequency, have remained nearly the same since
the days of King Solomon, who had a wondrous high opinion,
it will be recollected, of the virtues of the rod. From nearly
all our civil codes, instituted for the government of men,
whipping, for the punishment of offences, has been repudiated,
as not only barbarous, but calculated to harden rather
than amend; and confinement in prison, or other punishment,
substituted. Is the distinction which is thus kept up between
the government of men and children, made because the
young are more obdurate than the old? Certainly not; for
the reverse of this is acknowledged to be the fact. Is it,
then, because a similar change in the government of schools
is impracticable? We understand not why this should be;
since, if expulsions or degradations would not effect the
object, rooms for solitary confinement might easily be provided
for every school-house, and the delinquent imprisoned
till he would be glad to purchase liberty by amendment.
There may be sound reasons for the distinction we have
mentioned, but we confess we are unable to discover them.
But suppose we admit, that the punishment of whipping
is sometimes indispensable for insuring obedience and order
frequency and manner of its application? Nothing has a
greater tendency to brutalize the feelings, to deaden all
the best sensibilities of the heart, than frequent repetitions
of this questionable practice. If it must be resorted to, let
it be seldom; and then, for reasons before suggested, let it
be done in private, and, if possible, in the presence of a
parent. If thus done, unless we have read in vain the
young heart, its restraining fears, and its keen and over-powering
sense of guilt and shame, when conscious that
there is no one present to uphold and countenance it in
error, rare indeed will be the cases in which a repetition of
the punishment will ever be found necessary.
The scholars, the next morning, assembled under the
expectation that the business of the day would be opened by
the promised punishment of the culprit of yesterday. But
when they perceived that no movement of the kind was
likely to be made, and especially when they noticed the
altered demeanor of the boy, whose whole appearance, instead
of the brazen looks which he wore on leaving school
the preceding evening, now indicated the deepest humility,
their disappointment was equalled only by their surprise. It
was evident enough to them, that something had occurred to
effect this unexpected alteration of circumstances. But what
this was, they were wholly at a loss to conjecture. And, as
the boy, when they went out, either avoided them or evaded
their questions, the mystery was not solved till one of the
boys, who had been home for his dinner, accidentally got
hold of the truth, and hastened back to impart the important
news to his companions.
“Hurra! boys,” he exclaimed, as he came puffing up to a
group assembled in the school-house yard to discuss the
subject anew before entering the school for the afternoon,
“hurra! boys, I have found out all about it, now.”
“How was it, — how was it?” asked a dozen eager voices
at once.
“I 'll tell ye,” replied the boy, lowering his voice, and assuming
a look of awe, as he thought of what he was about to
relate. “They took him — that is, his father and the master —
they took him last night here to the school-house — only
think of that, all alone in the night! — and then the master
gave him, I do spose, one of the terriblest hidings that ever
was heard of.”
“What! right afore his father?” exclaimed several of the
older boys, evidently surprised and disconcerted to hear of
this new mode of punishment, which might soon be adopted
in their own cases.
“Yes,” replied the former, “and then kept him half the
night, forzino, talking to him like a minister, till he most cried
himself to death, they said. How awful! wa'nt it, now?”
“Why, I rather he 'd a killed me,” responded one of the
former, in which he seemed to be joined by both old and
young; all of whom, for different reasons, saw much to dislike
and dread in the picture.
“Well, I give in beat,” observed the young bully, who, as
before intimated, was meditating resistance to the punishment
in question; “somehow, I can't get the hang of this
new master. He does every thing so different from what a
fellow is looking for; and I have about concluded we may as
well mind our own business, and let him alone.”
“So, Mike, you have come to my opinion at last, have
you?” said Tom Bunker, who had been listening in silence.
“Now I have said but little about this affair, from first to
last; and if you had had a chance to go on with the shine
you was thinking of, I can't say what part I should have
taken, if the master had needed help; but I want to tell you
I think he has used us all like a gentleman, and I would fight
for him. And now, Mike, what do you say to backing him
for the rest of the winter?”
“That is what I have been thinking of myself — I am
agreed,” answered Mike.
“Well, then, boys,” rejoined Tom, “let us all hands now
into the house for our books; and the one that learns the
most, and behaves the best, shall be the best fellow.”
The crisis had passed. In the defeat of this last and impotent
attempt to break down the authority of our school-master,
his triumph was completed. All seemed to understand
this; and, for the remainder of the season, no school
could have been more distinguished for good order and
obedience.
All troubles in regard to government being now at an end,
and no others being anticipated by Locke, he urged his
pupils forward in their studies with all the incitements he
could command. But even this may sometimes, perhaps, be
carried too far. At all events, he was accused of so doing,
in connection with an event which soon occurred, and which
came near breaking up his school. But the relation of this
unexpected and painful incident, we will reserve for a new
chapter.
| CHAPTER IV. Locke Amsden, The schoolmaster | |