The Boarding School Part 1

The Boarding School.

by Unknown.

PREFACE.

Those persons whose time is devoted to the instruction of youth, have not only abundant opportunities of ascertaining the capacities of their pupils, but of observing their various dispositions, and of noticing the effects which have been produced on them by previous habit and example.

It seldom happens that amiability of temper, respectful behaviour to superiors, or kindness to inferiors, distinguish children who in their infancy have been left to the care of menials, or who have been suffered, by the blind indulgence of parents, to gratify their forward inclinations; and it as rarely occurs that those who have had the benefit of good example and parental admonition in the "bud of life,"

display much propensity to vice as they grow up, unless their morals become contaminated by afterwards forming improper companions. With reference to the effects of early education, it has been most truly said, that

"Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd."

And though a variety of causes may operate to form the character, or give a bias to the mind, it is a fact not to be controverted, that early impressions are never wholly eradicated, and the magic of some well remembered maxim or parental caution will often come very seasonably to the aid of the most experienced.

In pourtraying the characters which are introduced in "THE BOARDING SCHOOL," the Author has endeavoured to represent, by contrast, the amiable and unamiable pa.s.sions; and, by exhibiting them in their true colours, to render her fair and youthful readers as emulous to imitate the one, as they will doubtless be to avoid the other; while the narrative, being of the most familiar kind, will, it is hoped, contribute to their amus.e.m.e.nt.

THE BOARDING SCHOOL.

CHAPTER I.

Elizabeth Adair was stooping to prop a rose-tree in a viranda, when she hastily turned to her sister, and exclaimed, "it is useless attending either to plants or flowers now: I must give up all my favourite pursuits."

"But you will have others to engage your attention," returned Jane.

"And will they afford me pleasure? You may as well say that I shall listen with joy to the foolish commands of some parents, and the haughty remarks of others."

"Let this be our comfort," said Jane, "sensible people always treat the instructors of youth with respect; they neither command with pride, nor complain with insolence."

"But think of the change! We, who have had every indulgence, and no cares to perplex us!"

"My dear Elizabeth, in the day of prosperity we seldom rejoice with thankfulness; but in the time of adversity, when our path is darkened, then we can bitterly repine. Surely we should place our joys and our sorrows against each other, as a defence from a murmuring spirit."

"It is not late trials that trouble me, but future vexations that I dread. You know that I have never been accustomed to stupid, drawling, spoiled children."

"I hope," said Jane, "you will not have a cla.s.s of this description to instruct."

"O, all things will be easy to you, for you love children and love teaching; but I have never applied my mind to any thing of the kind: I shall not know how to ask the most simple question in nature."

Jane smiled, as she said, "Since you are so very doubtful of your abilities, I think I will give a short lesson upon teaching. Suppose you ask your pupil if she has learned grammar: if she replies in the affirmative, desire her to explain the nature of the different parts of speech. Then try her abilities in the arithmetical tables, or from the history of England; tell her to relate some particular event in the reign of one of our kings, and go on to other subjects in a similar manner. In the first instance, however, always hear your pupil read; clear, distinct reading, with proper emphasis--I do not mean in a theatrical style--is one test of abilities; give her some pointed pa.s.sage from history, or from any suitable book."

"I want an example," said Elizabeth.

"Now, sister, you are trifling, and will lead me to trifle in return."

"In 1199 John signed Magna Charta, the bulwark of English liberty;" or, "the king wept when he found himself a prisoner; but the master of Glamis said--"

"Go on, my dear Jane: the master of Glamis I will not have any thing to say to."

"You forget," said Jane, "that we are not to finish a sentence with to, or for, or any word so insignificant. Let a little girl read, 'remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth,' or something in the same easy, impressive style. But consult my mother: she will give you the best information upon the subject of teaching."

"Ah," said Elizabeth, "my spirits fail when I think of the task! I only wish the first week were over."

"It will pa.s.s away like all other things. We have only to be resolute in doing our duty, and leave the rest to Providence. Let us at all times remember our own excellent instructress: her 'authority, when most severe, and mustering all its force, was but the graver countenance of love, watering at once and nourishing the plant.'"

CHAPTER II.

It will, perhaps, here be necessary to say something of Mrs. Adair; I will not, however, enter upon her motive for opening a boarding-school.

It is a well known fact that the loss of fortune, contracted incomes, or troubles in one shape or another, are the origin of almost all female seminaries. I never heard but of one lady beginning a school, and persevering to the conclusion of a protracted life, without any motive but benefiting a friend. To her credit let me remark, that she never regretted this, as it may justly be styled, "labour of love."

Mrs. Adair's personal appearance and manner were calculated to excite respect and deference from pupils. The general cast of her countenance was serious, to a degree bordering upon severity; but when she did unbend, the cheerfulness that beamed in her features, and the benevolent expression of her dark and pleasing eyes, invited confidence and regard from every beholder. She had been a widow several years, and was going to commence a school patronized by respectable friends. I shall not attempt to describe her daughters, for beauty is of so perishable a nature, and of so little value without good qualities, it is but time wasted dwelling on the subject. Jane, the youngest, had been some time in a delicate and declining state of health; and, viewing life as uncertain in its tenor, had wisely adapted her mind to pa.s.sing circ.u.mstances. Next to her brightest hopes, was her desire to be useful whilst she remained upon earth.

Elizabeth had high health and spirits, and could ill brook the idea of the restraint and confinement of a school. But the evening was now arrived previous to beginning "the irksome task," as she styled it.

Mrs. Adair had been looking over her folio, and her daughters were seated at their work, when she observed, "We may consider ourselves particularly fortunate, for I have now the promise of fifteen pupils.

Several things, however, we must take into consideration. Elizabeth, you are sometimes a little petulant in temper: remember you must never be rash in deciding, or hasty in punishing; curb the bold, but encourage the timid. We must likewise be cautious to treat the parents of every child with equal respect; not allow ourselves to be dazzled with glittering equipages, or dashing manners. And let us be tender and careful of children who are deprived of a mother: give them all the aid in our power, to make them a credit to their father's house."

"And I think, my dear mother," said Elizabeth, "it will be necessary to fix children of weak capacities in one cla.s.s: let all the dunces go together."

"But we must first weigh their talents justly," returned Mrs. Adair; "and always recollect, that 'children of the present age are the hope of the one to come.'

"There is one thing I particularly charge you to avoid: never speak in a tone of ridicule of any lady who has previously instructed a pupil; there is something contemptible in trying to depreciate the talents of another. We are not to consider ourselves as supreme in wisdom, for our abilities are moderate; if we can do good, I believe it is the chief merit we can claim."

"I hope one thing," said Elizabeth, "that the young ladies must never be allowed to learn their lessons at meals; for I am persuaded they will think more of the present participle _loving_ than of declining the verb _to love_. And I trust likewise, my dear mother, that you will never let them read their own themes at public examinations: for the voice I am certain will tremble when hundreds are listening."

"We will not talk of public examinations, my dear, until we have tried our own abilities at teaching. But I must caution you never to criticize letters from parents or friends; nor look upon a teacher as a solitary being, without friends and without feelings."

"I hope you do not think I would exact too much, or be unreasonable in any command to a teacher," said Elizabeth.

"I do not say that you will do so; I only wish to remind you, that we should have due consideration for those persons who are dependent upon us. And now I have only to observe, that we must not think entirely of the time our pupils are to be with us, but extend our thoughts to the period when they will be enabled to judge by what spirit we were actuated. In teaching, punishing, or rewarding, let us always consider whether the means we then pursue will be useful to the young lady in future life."

CHAPTER III.

Elizabeth with some degree of impatience stood at the drawing-room window, looking for their first pupil, on the morning the school was opened. At length a carriage drove hastily to the door, and she returned to her seat.

With a flushed and agitated countenance she had now to welcome one of her mother's earliest friends. Colonel Vincent advanced into the room with two daughters, and in a cheerful tone exclaimed, "I hope, my dear Miss Adair, we are your first scholars; we have strained every nerve to surprise you with an early visit, and an auspicious one I hope it will prove."