"Simmy B.," he answered.
"And which is Simmy B.?" I questioned, glancing about the school-room.
"Oh, he ain't comin' in," gasped my informer; "he run over cross-lots
with Emily's clo's on."
I had planned not to confine my pupils to the ordinary method of imbibing
knowledge through the medium of text-books, but by means of lectures,
which should be interspersed with lively anecdotes and rich with the
fruitful products of my own experience, to teach them.
My first lecture was, quite appropriately, on the duty of close
application and faithful persistence in the acquisition of knowledge,
depicting the results that would inevitably accrue from the observance of
such a course, and here, glowing and dazzled by my theme, I even secretly
regretted that modesty forbade me to recommend to my pupils, as a
forcible illustration, one who occupied so conspicuous a position before
them.
My new method of instruction, though not appreciated, perhaps, in its
intrinsic design, was received, I could not but observe, with the most
unbounded favor.
After the first open-mouthed surprise had passed away from the
countenances of my audience, I was loudly importuned on all sides for
water.
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