CHAPTER I.--BREAKING UP.
It was very hot in the school-room at Steinheim, almost as hot as in anoven, although the faded green blinds were drawn down. Neither learningnor teaching goes forward satisfactorily on such days; and, indeed, itwas as much as the good schoolmaster could do, especially during thishot summer, to keep himself and his dear children awake over theirbooks. When he walked up and down the narrow space between his tallchair and the school-benches, like a caged lion, the children asked oneanother anxiously, "Do you think he is angry?" not knowing that he onlydid so to prevent himself from falling fast asleep in his chair. Therewas not much danger of this happening among the children, for if any oneof them dropped his head somewhat over his book, another was sure totickle him under the nose with a pen-feather, so that he suddenly wokeup again.
To-day, however, the children were not sleepy, but neither were theyindustrious. Whilst they were reading, they kept looking up continuallyfrom their books to the door, as if expecting somebody, and yet at thistime there seldom came any one, unless now and then an over-anxiousmother who thought that her Michael or little Jacob had been too hardlydealt with. To-day, however, according to old custom, the schoolmaster'sdaughter Mina, and the bailiff's Emma, were gone to the clergyman's toask about the breaking-up. For always as the time of the holidaysapproached, Mr. Erdmann, the schoolmaster, drew up a very politelyexpressed document in the name of the children, in which the clergymanwas requested, "now the harvest season was at hand," that he would givepermission to the children to discontinue their attendance at school "inorder," said the writing, "that we may be able to assist our parents inthe laborious business of the field."
These petitions were then beautifully copied out by the best-writer inthe school, and two little girls chosen to present them to theclergyman, because they were so much gentler and better-behaved than theunmannerly boy population.
It was never known that the clergyman had returned a negative to thesepetitions for the school vacation, and yet there was always anuneasiness and an excitement amongst the children which could not beallayed. They might now almost have been on the eve of a littlerevolution; even Fritz, the schoolmaster's son, could not keep himselfquiet, but fidgeted restlessly hither and thither. And yet Fritz was thebest and cleverest scholar in the school; he was destined for thechurch, and had been instructed in Latin and Greek by the clergyman;therefore it was his duty to set a good example to all the others. Thishonourable post, it is true, had cost him an extra number of caningsfrom his father, till finally he was advanced so far that theschoolmaster was able to say, with fatherly pride, when the others werelazy or behaved ill, "There, look at my Fritz!"
At length the door opened, and the girls entered, who had on thisoccasion an especial importance in the eyes of the boys, and who, withtheir smooth, beautifully plaited hair and pink frocks, looked verypretty.
"We are to break up!" said they, delivering thus to the schoolmaster,with beaming countenances, the answer to the embassy. "We are to breakup!" was whispered loud and low throughout the school; but the masterstruck a blow with the hazel stick upon his desk, and amidst aninstantaneous silence he said in a clear voice, "Silentium! that is tosay, keep your tongues still! The clergyman has consented to thebreaking up. Fritz, say it in Latin."
"Hodie feriae habemus!" proclaimed Fritz in a shrill voice.
"Good! That is to say, to-day we break up," explained the schoolmaster."But you must, every one of you, write three beautiful copies; farther,you must commit to memory the six hymns that are marked, and two pagesof selections, as well as ''Tis harvest time, the nodding corn!' Now,behave well, all of you, and be industrious; and go very quietly home,every one of you, like well-conducted children."
Yes, indeed, very quietly and well-conducted! The little troop burstforth like a wild herd into the open air, as soon as the door wasopened.
"Hurrah! Breaking up!" shouted they, wild with joy; even the exemplaryFritz set up such an unbecoming shout of exultation that his father,who, however, was well pleased himself, thought it right to give him anadmonitory pluck by the hair. Soon after the wild herd dispersed; manyamongst them entering into such poor, joyless homes, that in comparisonthe school must have appeared a paradise, and yet they rejoiced thatthey had broken up, and we cannot be angry with them. It is the fact oflabour, of regular occupation, which makes the feeling of liberty solike a golden blessing; the neglected lad, who lounges about idly oneday after another, certainly never experiences the happy sense of abreaking up.
Arrived at home, the schoolmaster exchanged his thin school-coat for hishouse-doublet, and seated himself comfortably on the wooden squab, forwhich his wife had made a cushion, for he had neither a house-coat noryet a sofa.
"Now, thank Heaven, for again a short pause," said the weary andhard-working man; "it will do me good to have a little rest, and lookafter my garden; and the bailiff has promised me some beautifulcarnation-layers, it is not yet too late for them; we'll have it verybeautiful, won't we, mother?"
"Yes, yes, father," replied the acquiescent wife; "only early in themorning, and not in the blazing heat of noon."
In the meantime, Fritz was earnestly and mysteriously whispering to Minain a corner. "Do _you_ ask," at length said Mina. "Nay, _you_ hadbetter," returned he.
Mina, who had this day been with the clergyman, might surely venture aword with her father, and she began therefore, at first shyly, and thenmore boldly, "But, father, is it true?"
"What true?" asked he.
"May we?" asked she again slowly.
"May you what?" inquired he again.
"Go to see Mrs. Dote at the castle!" exclaimed Fritz, now speaking quiteboldly, and astonished at his own courage.
"Yes, oh yes, father!" now besought Mina, earnestly and in a winningtone. "You have no objection, mother, have you?" asked she, addressingher mother; "and if mother is willing, father, you won't say no, willyou?"
"And Mrs. Dote has invited us," said Fritz decisively; "and youpromised, you know, father, and you always keep your word."
"Why, yes; what do you think, mother?" said the good-natured father,somewhat undecidedly.
"I don't know what to say," replied the mother, thoughtfully, "whetherMrs. Dote really meant it; and it is such a long way."
"Oh, mother!" exclaimed Fritz, "five hours' walk, the nearest wayfifteen miles; we can do that very well."
"But you can't spare Mina, can you?" suggested the father.
"Well, as far as that goes," said the mother smiling, "I think I canmanage; little Paul will soon run alone, and Adolf plays about nicely inthe garden. If you have no objection, father, we might give them thepleasure for once; I can soon have their few things ready."
"Oh, mother, how kind and good you are!" exclaimed little Mina joyfully;Fritz threw his cap in the air, and shouted, "Hurrah! all the worldover!"
The father's consent was silently given, and preparations for thejourney began as if it really were round the world that they were going.
Luke Barnicott, and Other Stories Page 3
