The next morning, on his way to his school, Locke encountered his friend and employer, Dr. Lincoln, and related to him the mortifying occurrences of the day previous.

"Your story, Mr. Amsden," said the doctor, "involves a satire upon us, which should well make us blush. Sensible of the importance of your most praiseworthy attempt, I was not only intending to go myself, but rally others; and an unexpected summons to a distant patient only prevented me from so doing. But, as provoking and truly discouraging as this affair must have been to you, do not allow yourself to despair."

"I shall not, of bettering my school in some measure; but what hope can I have of making it what it should be, while parents so plainly tell their children that they hold their improvement in science of less importance than the tricks of a juggler? Did they not so tell them yesterday? For, as somebody most truly says,

"Words speak in a whisper, actions through a trumpet."

True, true to the letter; and the sarcasm is richly deserved, though those to whom it applies are less conscious of their fault, I presume, than you imagine. Are you not expecting too much from poor human nature, especially here, where so many circumstances have long combined to blind people to the importance of popular education, and the best methods of promoting it? Men are generally more inclined to go where Folly leads than where Wisdom points. And here they have so long trod in the path of the former, that their blindness, on the point in question, has become chronic, and cannot be cured in a day. Your exertions will not have been lost on your school. Something has been gained in acquirement, something towards fixing good habits of studyall help. You must still persevere; and though it may not be expedient to renew your yesterday's attempt at present, you yet shall have my aid in trying to get parents and pupils

mutually interested, as well by my occasional visits, as by my influence to procure the visits and enlist the interest of others. Yes, persevere; and, while you do so, remember that our village is not the only one guilty of the same faults. Our country schools are before those of our villages, in regard to the interest taken in them by both parents and children. In our country schools, a good degree of interest in learning is felt, and the pupils do learn; though, through the incompetency of their teachers, they too often learn error. But our village pupils do not even learn that. How important, then, that our schools, both in town and country, be, for different reasons, wholly revolutionized? And you, sir, are the man to begin the revolution."

"But what can I do towards such a work, supported as I am, and shall be, by the public, in the undertaking?"

"A good deal. While your persevering labors will eventually reform one school, you will be setting an example that will be surely, if slowly, operating upon others. And while doing this, you may enjoy the proud consciousness that you are doing more to perpetuate the liberties of your country, than the arrogating congress-man, who is spouting wind to the tune of eight dollars per day."

The judicious and spirited remarks of Lincoln were not without their effect on the kindred mind of young Amsden. He had long entertained similar views himself, and had laid out his course with reference to them. But he was by no means prepared for the obstacles and discouragements by which he found his path beset; and he was beginning to look on the prospect before him with a cold and doubtful eye. The wise and timely counsels of his employer, however, encouraged and reässured him, and he again returned with patient determination to his task. He now found, indeed, that patience and determination were alike needed by him, while trying to revive, in his pupils, the interest and ambition

which he had succeeded in raising in them, previous to the failure of the little plan we have described. For, although the juggler and his shows, now they had seen them, had lost their charms, yet the course taken by their parents seemed to have removed all inducement to any future exertion. Instead of the pride which they had been told by their instructor those parents would feel, on seeing them acquit themselves well—instead of the praises they would get, they had seen their exertions pass unrewarded by either the praise or the presence of a single individual. And they were not slow in drawing the disheartening inference. For all this, the untiring efforts of our schoolmaster, directly applied, and the many pleasant little devices and amusing exercises that he contrived to get up, illustrative of the different branches he was teaching, and at the same time instructive in themselves, at length began to produce their effects in awakening some degree of the spirit desired. Dr. Lincoln and his lady several times visited the school, and their example was soon followed by some others, who seemed to think, that, under the sanction of so respectable a precedent, it would now possibly do to be seen in a common school. These visits much contributed also to encourage the instructor, and give efficiency to his exertions. And he finally had the happiness of seeing his school, if not all that he could have wished it, at least in a highly prosperous condition.

But although Amsden had at last found himself in a fair way of surmounting the obstacles that had here impeded his success as a teacher merely, yet there were, in the mean time, other trials attending his situation, which he was left to experience, and which he felt none the less keenly, for being compelled to endure them in silence. If the neglect and lack of interest which the inhabitants had exhibited towards his school had caused him so much chagrin and disappointment, it is natural to suppose that a still greater neglect of

himself, in all those little courtesies and marks of respect which are usually extended to all respectable members of society, would not long escape his notice, or fail to make him feel unpleasantly.

There had been in the village, during the winter, a con tinued round of fashionable parties, some for the lively dance, but most of them for social converse, the occasional song, and such other light diversions as are usually introduced on these occasions. To these parties, all, of any thing like fair standing, had, in turn, been invited. Spruce mechanics and their journeymen frequently received their invitations; the pert merchant's clerk was sure to be remembered; even Locke's older pupils were not neglected, and sometimes, indeed, they were sought out and invited before his face. But nobody remembered the poor schoolmaster. Nobody seemed to be aware that he was born with social feelings, or that he had any sort of claim to mingle in society, like other people; and, throughout the whole, he was never complimented with a single invitation.

At first he did not pay any attention to this circumstance; or, if he did, he concluded it arose from some excusable inadvertence. But, being generally apprised of these assemblages, the next day after their occurrence, when he was often asked why he had not attended, the constant repetition of the neglect at length forced itself upon his observation, and caused him more pain than he would have been willing to confess. Let it not be supposed, however, that the unpleasant feelings he thus experienced arose from the disappointment of any particular wish he had to mingle in fashionable society. For, believing with his favorite poet, that

"e'en while Fashion's brightest arts decoy,

The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy,"

he felt conscious that he should have little relish for its frive

ners

olities and amusements. No, it was not this that disquieted him; but it was the inference, the unavoidable inference, which he drew from the circumstance, that caused the pang; awakening reflections as wounding to his sensibilities, as they were discouraging to his prospects, in the path of life he had marked out for himself. And what was this inference? Did it grow out of the narrow jealousy that there was any thing relating to his manners, his person, or his poverty, that had shut him out of society? By no means; for his dress was good, his person what few could boast of, and his man- he had no manners, he never tried to form any, but was wisely content with the unsophisticated demeanor of his childhood, which let his native benevolence, his kind and cheerful disposition, his strong sense and ready perception, shine out undisguised and clearly, and find their way, as they did, to every heart not foolishly shut by the conventional restrictions of modern society; while they imparted to his appearance an ease and dignity that fitted him for every company. No, it was nothing of that kind. It was the low estimation in which, he could not but perceive, the occupation of the common teacher was held by the public; an estimation, which, besides depriving that teacher of half the very influence he is expected to exercise over the minds of the young, virtually ostracises him from society, and leads even parents to place him whom they intrust to form the minds and characters of their own children for life-to place him, unconsciously, we hope upon a level with the servants of their kitchens and the grooms of their stables!

Such were the difficulties, such the trials, which our schoolmaster was doomed to experience. But is the example, which his case exhibits, a solitary one? Let the public answer; and, if in the negative, let them reflect on the consequences of suffering this state of things to remain for ever.