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IT was near Christmas by the time all was settled: the season of
general holiday approached. I now closed Morton school, taking care
that the parting should not be barren on my side. Good fortune opens
the hand as well as the heart wonderfully; and to give somewhat when
we have largely received, is but to afford a vent to the unusual
ebullition of the sensations. I had long felt with pleasure that
many of my rustic scholars liked me, and when we parted, that
consciousness was confirmed: they manifested their affection plainly
and strongly. Deep was my gratification to find I had really a place
in their unsophisticated hearts: I promised them that never a week
should pass in future that I did not visit them, and give them an
hour's teaching in their school.
Mr. Rivers came up as, having seen the classes, now numbering sixty
girls, file out before me, and locked the door, I stood with the key
in my hand, exchanging a few words of special farewell with some
half-dozen of my best scholars: as decent, respectable, modest, and
well-informed young women as could be found in the ranks of the
British peasantry. And that is saying a great deal; for after all, the
British peasantry are the best taught, best mannered, most