Part 1
A SECOND DAY
IN
MARY CARROW’S SCHOOL.
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[Illustration:
~Second Day.~ Carry Deacon and her little Sister, looking at the ducks. ]
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A SECOND DAY
IN
MARY CARROW’S SCHOOL.
American Sunday-School Union:
_PHILADELPHIA_: 316 CHESTNUT ST. _NEW YORK_: 147 NASSAU ST. _BOSTON_: 9 CORNHILL. _LOUISVILLE_: 103 FOURTH ST.
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by the AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
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☞ No books are published by the AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION without the sanction of the Committee of Publication, consisting of fourteen members, from the following denominations of Christians, viz. Baptist, Methodist, Congregationalist, Episcopal, Presbyterian and Reformed Dutch. Not more than three of the members can be of the same denomination, and no book can be published to which any member of the Committee shall object.
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A SECOND DAY IN MARY CARROW’S SCHOOL.
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A cool, rainy morning. The boys and girls all came to school with thick shoes on, and coats and shawls to protect them from the wet. When Mary came, she told her scholars she was glad to find the rain had not kept them at home. Mary smiled, and looked around to see if they had all come, and she counted. Charles Linn and Harry Linn, and their sister Lucy. Lily Forester, and her brother Eddy. Susan Field, and Ellen Raby.
All here, but Carry Deacon. Mary said, “Who can tell why Carry has not come to school? I do not like to miss one of my little scholars. I like to have them all with me.”
No one could tell why Carry had not come. Mary then helped the smaller scholars to take off their coats and shawls; and she showed them how to hang up their wet things to dry on the pegs in the entry; and she bade them put their umbrellas into a pail, which stood by the door on purpose to receive them. Mary asked if they had all brought their dinners? And one said, “I have brought mine.” And another said, “We have brought ours.” And Mary said, “We have brought ours.” It was not far for Mary and the Linns to go home to dinner; but she liked to indulge her scholars when she could, and she knew she could not please them better than to stay and dine with them on rainy days.
The boys and girls put their dinner-baskets into a little closet outside the school-room door; and then Mary rang her bell—the signal that it was time to collect. While they were putting their dinner-baskets away, Harry Linn said to Lily Forester,
“Lily, are you glad it’s a rainy day? I am.”
Lily said, “I am glad, too.”
“Harry, what have you got for dinner?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Mary put up our dinner while I was looking at father when he was getting into the wagon.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve got, Harry,” said Lily; “a little pie with my name on it! Do you remember about Anne Lyle, and the little pie with her name on it? I told mother about it, when I went home, and she said if I was a good girl, she would make me a little pie, and put my name on it. Look here, Harry. I will show you.” And Lily lifted up the cloth that was over their dinner, and there was a little patty-pan pie, with L. F. plainly stamped on it.
Harry said, “How nice that is! Will you give me some of it, Lily?”
And Lily told Harry she would cut it in halves at dinner-time, and give him the largest half.
Mary rang her little bell again, and Harry and Lily went into school.
While the scholars were taking their seats, Carry Deacon arrived. She was very wet, and her face was red; and she looked fretted and tired. Mary said,
“I am glad to see you, Carry; but what is the matter? How did you get so wet?”
Carry told Mary her umbrella was broken, and it did not keep the rain off.
“You are so wet, Carry,” said Mary, “that I fear you will be sick; and you are too far off from home to be sent back in the rain.”
Mary thought a minute what she should do, and then she told Charles Linn, (who was the largest boy in the school,) to run home to his mother, and ask her to please to lend a pair of Lucy’s shoes and stockings, for a little girl to wear, who had come to school very wet. Charles Linn was an obliging, lively boy, and he ran off at once. While he was gone, Mary took off Carry’s wet shawl, and sent her into the little room adjoining the school-room, to wash her face and her feet. There was a pitcher of water out in the little room, and soap, and a basin, and a cup, and a towel. Before Carry had done washing her feet, Charles Linn came back with the dry shoes and stockings. Then Mary went out to Carry, and she helped her to put them on. And she took a little pocket comb out of her pocket, and combed Carry’s hair smoothly, and then brought her into school. Mary was sure Carry had done something wrong, but she did not ask her about it, because Carry always told the truth. Mary thought she would be very kind to Carry, and then Carry would perhaps come and tell her about the mishaps of her walk to school, without being asked. Carry was a very giddy, careless little girl, and she sometimes forgot to do as she was told, when she did not really mean to be naughty.
This was Grammar morning; and while Mary attended to the grammar-class, Harry, and Lily, and Ellen Raby, looked over their spelling-lesson.
Charles Linn was at the head of the grammar-class. Mary asked Charles if he could tell her what a NOUN was? Charles said, a noun was the grammatical name of any thing that we could see, or feel, or taste, or smell. Mary asked the scholar who stood next in the class, to point to something in the room which was a noun. She pointed to a book, and Mary said, “That is right.” Then Mary asked the next one, why book was a noun, and her little scholar could not tell. The one who stood below her answered. She said, book was a noun because we could see it; and she went above the girl who had missed. Mary said to one, “Think of a noun which you can taste, and tell me what it is.” And he answered, “Apple.”
Carry Deacon was the one who had missed, and Mary asked Carry to think of something which she liked to look at and play with. Carry said, “Kittens.”
“Now tell me, Carry, what a noun is?”
Carry answered, “A noun is the name of any thing that we can see.”
“Then what is a kitten?”
“O, now I know,” Carry said. “Kitten is a noun, because I can see it.”
Mary questioned her scholars until she thought they understood all about a noun; and then she told them, the next grammar-lesson would be the Adjective.
“Now you may take your seats,” Mary said, “and look over your reading-lesson, while I hear the little ones spell.”
Harry Linn, and Lily Forester, and Ellen Raby, said a spelling-lesson; and there were some words in their lesson which Mary explained to them, because they did not understand what these words meant. Ellen Raby spelled Wild Deer, and she asked Harry Linn if he knew what a wild deer was? Harry said, “I guess it is a goat. Let us ask Mary.”
Mary told them it was not a goat, and she would see if she could find a picture of a wild deer to show them. She had a large book, full of pictures; and there were horses, and cows and goats, and many different kinds of animals in it.
Mary soon found a picture of a wild deer, and all the scholars wished to come and look at it. She told them they might come. And they asked her to please to tell them something about a wild deer. Mary told them, that the part of America where they lived, and where the school-house stood, was once a great forest of trees, where only Indians lived, and wild deers and other animals. She told them that the Indians used to hunt the wild deer, and shoot them, that they might have them to eat. Their flesh was very tender and good, and was called venison.
[Illustration: a wild deer]
“Why are there not any wild deer here now, Mary?” asked Ellen.
“Because there is no place for them to live in. The forests, where they like to live, are all cut down; and now, instead of forests, we have fine farms, and houses on them to live in.”
“Who cut down the forests, Mary?” said Ellen.
“Our forefathers, who came here a great while ago.”
“But why did not our forefathers let the pretty little wild deers stay here, Mary?”
“They would not stay,” Mary said. “They are afraid of people, of men and women, and of little boys and girls, and they ran away from them.”
“Where did they go, Mary?”
“Away into the forests, which are many hundreds of miles from here. When our forefathers came here, they wanted houses to live in, and something to eat; and they built themselves houses, and cut down the trees before they could plant corn, and wheat, and rye, and potatoes. They had to cut down the trees before they could make farms.”
Carry looked as if she did not quite understand Mary, and Mary said, “You know, Carry, your mother told you, you might have a little garden of your own, and she gave you a little piece of ground to make your garden of, which was full of cedar bushes; and do you not remember, you asked your father if he would cut down the cedar bushes, so that you could have a nice smooth place for your flower seeds?”
Carry said, “Yes, I remember it, and father cut down all the cedar bushes for me, and then he dug up the ugly roots, and he took out a spade one morning and dug up the ground and made it soft. And then mother gave me some flowers out of her garden, and she showed me how to plant them in my garden; and she gave me some seeds, and she showed me how to make little holes in the ground to hold the seeds. I put the seeds in the little holes and covered them up with the soft earth, and mother says they will grow into beautiful flowers by and by.”
“Do you understand now, Carry,” said Mary, “why our forefathers cut down the forest trees?
“The land was covered all over with trees, just as your little garden was covered over with cedar bushes; and you know you could not have a garden of flowers, until the cedar bushes were cut away.”
Carry said, “Yes, I understand now. The people who came here wanted to plant wheat, and rye, and corn, and they could not plant seeds till the great trees were cut down.”
Charles Linn said he would like to have another look at the wild deer picture; and Mary allowed him and all the scholars to examine it.
Eddy Forester said, “The deer’s horns were like some his father had at home, to hang up his Sunday hat on; and his father called them antlers.”
“Did your father ever tell you where they came from, Eddy?” asked Mary.
“Yes,” said Eddy. “He told us one night—Lily and me—that they were the horns of a deer, which our great-grandfather shot a long time ago, on the spot where our house now stands.”
“Oh, yes,” Lily said, “I remember, it was before we went to bed. I was sitting on father’s lap, and Eddy was sitting on my little stool, and mother was making me a new frock, when father told us about the Indians.”
“Yes,” Eddy said, “he told us that when our great-grandfather came to this country from England, there was only a great forest of trees here, and no houses to be seen. He lived in a log-hut, which he, and the men who came with him, built for themselves: and they had not any thing to eat but the deer and wild turkeys which they shot. Father told us all that, and he said the antlers had been kept ever since our great-grandfather shot the wild deer in the forest.”
* * * * *
Mary said, “Now I will put away the large picture book, and you may all take your seats, while I prepare the black board.” Mary told all her scholars to stand up, and they answered in concert the questions she asked.
She drew a mark on the black board thus, —— and told them to say what she had drawn; and they answered in concert, “a straight line.” Then she drew other figures, thus:
[Illustration: Parallel lines. An angle. A triangle. A quadrangle. A circle. A semicircle. A hemisphere. An inclined plane.]
After Mary had exercised her boys and girls in this way, until she thought they knew all the figures she had drawn, she told them to say the multiplication table in concert. Ellen Raby called this class the concert class, and they liked to be in a class altogether.
Lily said she would like black board exercises every day; but Mary was wiser than her little scholar, and she knew that Lily would get very tired of doing the same thing every day. Mary liked her scholars to be “always busy, never weary,” and she gave them different lessons for each day.
Now it was recess time. And what do my little readers think Mary’s scholars did during recess time, when it rained so fast that they could not go out of doors to play? They played in the school-room. They played Blindman Buff and “Poor Pussey wants a corner,” and “Hunt the Slipper.” Mary lent them her shoe to play with, and when they were tired of playing Hunt the Slipper, and Puss in the Corner, they gave Mary her shoe again, and asked her if they might play Blindman Buff. She said they might, but not in the school-room. She told them to go into the little room adjoining the school-room, where Blindman Buff, whoever he might happen to be, could not do any mischief. There was no ink nor desks in the little room, and he could walk or run about there without danger of hurting himself. They begged Mary to go with them, and she said she would. They all ran off, singing,
Here we go All together, We have fun In rainy weather.
One, two, three, Four, and away, We are glad Of a rainy day!
Mary took her handkerchief and asked, who would be Blindman Buff first. They all wanted to be blindfolded first; and Mary said, “What shall I do to please all my little scholars? You cannot all be Blindman Buff at once; so I will take the oldest first.” Charles Linn was the oldest scholar; and after Mary had bound her handkerchief over his eyes, he could not see any thing at all. He put out his hands, and felt about the room, and at last he caught little Ellen Raby. Ellen was so much delighted, and laughed so merrily to see how queer Charles looked, that he knew by the sound of her voice where to find her. Carry Deacon came up to Mary and looked as if she wanted to say something to her, and as if she did not like to say it. Then Mary took Carry by the hand, and she said,
“Do you want to talk to me, Carry?”
Carry said, “Yes, but not before anybody. Let us go back into the school-room.” Mary went with Carry into the school-room while the scholars were at play, and she said, “Now, Carry dear, come and tell me all about your getting to school so late this morning.”
_Carry._ “I stopped to see Mike Terry’s kittens.”
_Mary._ “How did you know about the kittens?”
[Illustration:
~Second Day.~ “I stopped to see Mike Terry’s Kittens.” p. 28. ]
_Carry._ “When I was going past neighbour Terry’s, Mike came out, and he had a porringer of milk, and he was carrying it with both his hands for fear it would spill.”
_Mary._ “Well, Carry, did you stop and ask Mike what he had in the porringer?”
_Carry._ “Yes! Mike said it was milk for the cat. He said, the old cat had some kittens in the night, and he was going to feed her.”
_Mary._ “What else did Mike say?”
_Carry._ “He said the kittens were down in the barn, and the old cat took hold of the kittens by their necks, with her mouth. Mike asked me to come and see them.”
_Mary._ “Did you tell Mike you were on your way to school, and had not leave to stop?”
_Carry._ “I only told him I was going to school, I did not tell him about leave to stop.”
_Mary._ “What did Mike say to that?”
_Carry._ “He said he did not like to go to school. The master was cross. He would rather stay at home and play; and then I went with him to see the kittens. One was black, and one had white spots on its tail, and one was yellow, just like the old cat, only it was a kitten. The kittens were little bits of things. They stayed close together. They climbed over one another’s backs and heads. Mike said that did not hurt them at all. It was the way they kept one another warm.”
_Mary._ “How long did you stay, Carry?”
_Carry._ “I don’t know, but not a great while. The kittens were so pretty, I liked to look at them. I and Mike waited to see if the big cat would take them up by the neck, with her mouth. Mike said it looked as if she would eat them up.”
_Mary._ “How did you feel, while you were there?”
_Carry._ “I felt most about the kittens, they were such little dear tiny things. I wanted to take them up, and kiss them, but Mike said if I did, the old cat would scratch me.”
_Mary._ “Did you think about school?”
_Carry._ “Yes. When I had done looking at the kittens, I did. I told Mike, now, I must go, I am afraid it is late. Mike said, if he was me, he would not go to school at all. It was pleasant to stay at home and play. I told Mike we had a pleasant time at our school, rainy days as well as sunny days, and I liked to go all days. Then Mike showed me a new way to school. He said it was nearer than to go by the road. I got lost, and did not know where I was. I cried, and wished I had not gone with Mike.”
_Mary._ “I thought you told me your umbrella was broken: how was it done, Carry?”
_Carry._ “I forgot to put it away the last time it rained, and it was in the kitchen, and somebody broke it.”
_Mary._ “How did you get to school at last?”
_Carry._ “I walked and walked, and I ran some of the way, and I called ‘Mother,’ and ‘Mary.’ I was afraid. When I walked a little farther, I got to the play-woods, and then I saw the tool-house where we keep our playthings. And then I was glad, and I knew I was almost here.”
_Mary._ “Does my little Carry think she has suffered enough to make her remember that she should not stop by the way coming to school? You know, Carry, the rule is, that the scholars must not stop on their way to school, nor when they are returning, without leave from their parents, or from me.”
_Carry._ “I forgot that.”
Carry was a very affectionate little girl, and she put her arms round Mary’s neck, and said, “Will you kiss me now, Mary, and forgive me?”
Mary kissed Carry, and said, “I will forgive you, dear, but do you not know that when we do wrong, even in a very little thing, we must ask our Heavenly Father to forgive us? Whenever you do wrong, a stain is left upon your soul—upon that part of you which lives for ever and ever. God’s good spirit within you makes you sensible of this stain; makes you feel that all is not right with you; and then you are unhappy, uncomfortable; and you cannot feel happy again until the stain is taken away. I do not see it. I cannot take it away: but God sees it, and can take it away. And if you are really sorry and ask Him, He will take it away, and make you happy again. I will give you a little prayer to learn; and before you lie down in your bed to-night, think over what you have been doing to-day. You must try to ask your Heavenly Father’s forgiveness before you go to sleep, and then you can repeat these verses.”
“Will you say the little prayer to me, Mary?”
“Yes.”
Heavenly Father! I am little, And I often go astray; Wilt Thou love me, and forgive me, When I do not keep thy way?
I have read about Thy mercy, In the Holy Bible shown; Wilt Thou bring me to my Saviour, For I cannot come alone?
He once took up little children, And they leaned upon His arm, And I want Him to take me up, So that I’ll be safe from harm.
Then Mary lent Carry the little book which had the prayer in it, and she told her she might take it home with her.
“There is one thing more, I wish to say to you, Carry. I wish you to try to think about what you are told to do. What shall I do to make my little Carry remember?”
_Carry._ “Don’t call me careless Carry, will you?”
_Mary._ “Does any one call you so?”
_Carry._ “Yes! And I do not like to be called careless Carry.”
_Mary._ “Suppose you try not to deserve the name.”
_Carry._ “How shall I try, Mary?”
_Mary._ “I will help you.”
_Carry._ “Shall we begin now?”
_Mary._ “Yes. All the scholars, except you, put away their books and slates, before they went out to play, and yours are all out of place. Go, now, and put them neatly into your desk.”
Carry ran away to do as Mary told her. And then Mary rang the bell for school.
Now it was reading time. Harry Linn, and Lily Forester, and Ellen Raby, were in a class by themselves. They were just learning to read. Ellen Raby was older than Harry and Lily, but she did not know enough to be in the first class.
After all the scholars had done reading, they took their slates to do sums, and make figures. Mary showed those who could cipher, how to do their sums, and she set lines of figures for the little ones. Mary made pens, and set copies in the copy books for afternoon.
One of the copies was,
[Illustration: Handwritten: Mary loves her scholars.]
Another copy was,
[Illustration: Handwritten: They are good children.]
Another copy was,
[Illustration: Handwritten: They are sorry when they do wrong.]