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'
A long way, Sir,' the child replied. 'You're a young traveller, my child,'
he said, laying his hand gently on her head. 'Your grandchild, friend? '
'
Aye, Sir,' cried the old man, 'and the stay and comfort of my life.'
Come in,' said the schoolmaster.
'
Without further preface he conducted them into his little school-room,
which was parlour and kitchen likewise, and told them that they were
welcome to remain under his roof till morning. Before they had done
thanking him, he spread a coarse white cloth upon the table, with
knives and platters; and bringing out some bread and cold meat and a
jug of beer, besought them to eat and drink.
The child looked round the room as she took her seat. There were a
couple of forms, notched and cut and inked all over; a small deal desk
perched on four legs, at which no doubt the master sat; a few dog's-
eared books upon a high shelf; and beside them a motley collection of
peg-tops, balls, kites, fishing-lines, marbles, half-eaten apples, and
other confiscated property of idle urchins. Displayed on hooks upon
the wall in all their terrors, were the cane and ruler; and near them,
on a small shelf of its own, the dunce's cap, made of old newspapers
and decorated with glaring wafers of the largest size. But, the great
ornaments of the walls were certain moral sentences fairly copied in
good round text, and well-worked sums in simple addition and
multiplication, evidently achieved by the same hand, which were
plentifully pasted all round the room: for the double purpose, as it
seemed, of bearing testimony to the excellence of the school, and
kindling a worthy emulation in the bosoms of the scholars.
'
Yes,' said the old schoolmaster, observing that her attention was
caught by these latter specimens. 'That's beautiful writing, my dear.'
'
'
Very, Sir,' replied the child modestly, 'is it yours?'
Mine!' he returned, taking out his spectacles and putting them on, to
have a better view of the triumphs so dear to his heart. 'I couldn't
write like that, now-a-days. No. They're all done by one hand; a little
hand it is, not so old as yours, but a very clever one.'
As the schoolmaster said this, he saw that a small blot of ink had
been thrown on one of the copies, so he took a penknife from his
pocket, and going up to the wall, carefully scraped it out. When he
had finished, he walked slowly backward from the writing, admiring it
as one might contemplate a beautiful picture, but with something of
sadness in his voice and manner which quite touched the child,
though she was unacquainted with its cause.
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