Kitty Alone. Baring-Gould Sabine

three at home. Some of the scholars bain’t clean as they should be. I can’t have my childer come home bringing with them what they oughtn’t, and never carried to school from my house. So will’y, now, just see to ’em every day, as they be all right, afore you let ’em leave school, and I’ll thank’y for it kindly.”

      Presently a mason returning from his work saluted Bramber.

      “Look here, schoolmaister! I want you to take special pains wi’ my children and get ’em on like blazes. If they don’t seem to get forward in a week or two, I shall take ’em away and send them to Mr. Puddicombe, who is going to open a private school.”

      Then another man came up, halted, and, catching hold of the lappet of Bramber’s coat, said, “My name is Tooker. I’m not a churchman, but I have several children at your school. I won’t have them taught the Church Catechism. I’m a Particular Baptist, and I won’t have no childer of mine taught to say what their godfather and godmother promised and vowed for them--for they ain’t had no godfathers nor godmothers, and ain’t a-going to have none. You can’t mistake my childer. One has got a red head, another is yaller, and the third is a sort of whitey-brown--and has sunspots, and a mole between the shoulder-blades, and the boy never had no toe-nails. So mind--no catechism for them.”

      “And there is something,” said again another, “upon which I want to lay down what I think. I wish you to teach readin’ and writin’ in a rational manner.”

      “I hope to do that.”

      “Ah! but you’ve been too much at college, and crammed wi’ book-larnin’. Why should you teach childer, and fret their little heads about the H, when it’s a thing of no concern whatever. Mr. Puddicombe, he was the reasonable man. Sez he, ‘Raisin puddin’ is good, and duffy puddin’ wi’out raisins is good--so is it with the English language--it’s good all round, and the H’s are just the raisins; you can put ’em in or leave ’em out as you pleases, and stick ’em in by the scores or just a sprinklin’, and it’s no odds--it’s good anyways.’ Them’s the principles of spellin’ I expect my little ones to larn at your school.”

      “And I hopes, Mr. Teacher,” said another sententiously, “as you’ll never forget that it is not enough to teach the children readin’, writing, and ’rithmetic. There is something more”--

      “There is a great deal more--geography, history, the Elements”--

      “There is something above all that, and you should make it the first thing, and readin’ and the rest after.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Temperance--teetotal principles.”

      Bramber walked on. His discouragement was becoming greater at every moment.

      As he passed the Lamb and Flag, he was greeted by a hideous bray of instruments both stringed and brazen. This outburst was followed by a marvellous coruscation of instrumental music, races, leaps, a helter-skelter of fiddles, flutes, cornets, bass-viol, now together, more often running ahead or falling behind each other, then one a-pickaback on the rest.

      At the door of the public-house stood Mr. Jonas Southcott with his face radiant.

      “Well, Mr. Schoolmaister!” shouted he; “what do you think of this? You’ve never heard such moosic before, I warrant. That is what I call moosic of the spears! It’s Jackson’s ‘Tee-dum.’”