The Angel of the Gila - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"A natural magnet may not have much power in itself, but when it shares its power with a steel bar, the bar can do vastly more than the piece of iron could. In the same way, the influence we exert, though it may not be great in itself, may enable other people to do greater things than we could possibly do."
The lesson went home.
Patrick shook his head approvingly.
"All right, Miss, all right! Oi'll belave the sthory if yez say so. Oi foind it hard to understhand what makes a bit o' iron a natural magnit. What Oi does understhand is yez are loike the steel magnit, an' yez draws the rist av us to yez!"
And having delivered himself of this compliment, which apparently met with the hearty approval of the company, he subsided.
Then John Harding announced the next number on the programme,--a talk on Ireland by Lord Kelwin, ill.u.s.trated by Mr. Clayton with his magic lantern. Again there was applause; and as the lights were put out, the giggling and laughter grew boisterous. In an instant, a picture flashed on the screen, and the laughter changed to quiet attention.
Lord Kelwin's voice soon made itself heard. He was well-known in camp, and popular. He spoke in a bright, attractive way, with occasional flashes of Irish wit, when he provoked laughter and comment again. On one of these occasions, Patrick burst forth. Patrick was in fine spirits. He had stopped at the saloon on the way to the party.
"Begorra, the ould counthry is all foine enough in a picture or lecture; but Oi loike the Imerald Oile on this soide betther. The Imerald Oile of Ameriky, bounded on the north, by the North Pole; on the east, by the Atlanthic; on the south, by the South Pole; on the wist, by the Pacific; an' on the top, by the rist o' the universe.
Hoorah fur the Imerald Oile of Ameriky!"
A howl went up, and a laugh from everyone, followed by much clapping.
"Where did you learn so much geography?" asked one. Again there was a laugh.
"And this," said the speaker, as a new picture flashed before their eyes, "is Blarney Castle. Here is where Patrick learned his blarney."
But Patrick was not to be outdone. He chuckled.
"The blairney stone was all roight whin Oi was at Blairney Castle in the ould counthry; but whin Oi landed in Ameriky, Oi wint to Plymouth, an' there Oi found an Oirish saint holdin' a rock. Oi sez ter him, sez Oi, 'Phat do yez call the rock where the Pilgrims landed'? An' he looks at me scornful loike, an' sez he ter me, sez he, 'Y're mishthaken', sez he, 'this is the blairney stone of Killairney.
Ameriky imports all the bist things from the ould counthry."
The people fairly howled.
"Includin' you, eh, Patrick?" shouted an Englishman, above the uproar of laughter.
The address held everyone's attention, and at its close, both Lord Kelwin and Mr. Clayton were loudly applauded.
"This closes our programme," said John Harding. "We hope ye'll talk an' have a good time, an' look about the room ter see what the children of the school have been doin'. Then the women folks will feed yer cake an' coffee."
This announcement, too, was applauded.
Mrs. Murphy, belle of the back East barn raisings, separated herself from the company. She came upon a good-sized play house, neatly painted and papered. It was furnished tastefully with little woven rugs, wire furniture, and crocheted window curtains. Over different articles, were placed the names of the children who had made them.
Mrs. Murphy stood in amazed admiration, for her own children had been among the most skilled workers. She found simple garments, neatly made, and here and there bits of sewing, clumsy, and botched in some cases, because baby fingers had been at work.
The teacher joined Mrs. Murphy, who said to her:
"You don't say, schoolma'am, as you learns the young uns to do sich things as this?"
"Yes. Don't you like it?"
"Like it! I should say! Why, fust I know, they'll be makin' their own cloes, an' their pap's an' mine!"
"Perhaps."
But in another part of the room, a different conversation was going on.
"I tell ye," said Jessie Roth, who was talking to Bobbie Burns, "schoolma'am kens an awfu' lot."
"How dae ye ken?" he asked with an air of scorn, "ye dinna ken muckle yirsel'."
"Ye jist shut up, Bob Burns," she replied testily. "I may not ken muckle, neither do ye. Ye has no manners. I tell ye I want ter learn.
I'm a mind ter quit the range an' go ter school."
"What's the matter, Jessie?" asked the teacher, coming up at this moment, and slipping her arm about the girl's waist. "I believe Bob has been teasing you. Make up, children;" and smiling kindly, and with a rea.s.suring grasp of Jessie's hand, she pa.s.sed on.
"What'd I tell ye?" asked the girl.
"Oh, she's only a woman. Anyway, she don't care much for you la.s.ses, or she'd had a club for girls."
This was more than Jessie could stand.
"A woman, did ye say? A woman?" Jessie's eyes flashed with anger. "An'
wasna' y'r mither a woman, Bob Burns?"
"I believe she was," answered the boy with a broad grin. He was enjoying himself.
"An' as fur the schoolma'am's not carin' fur the girls, y're mistaken.
I'm sure she will have a club fur us."
"Yes," taunted the burly fellow, "to hammer things into y'r heads with."
At this Jessie left him in high dudgeon. She sought Esther and asked:
"_Don't_ ye like we girls as much as the boys?"
"Just a little bit better, perhaps. Why, Jessie?"
"Bob Burns says ye don't care fur the girls, an' he knows ye don't 'cause ye hain't made no club fur them."
"Bob's mistaken, isn't he? We girls," and the teacher paused and smiled into several faces, "we girls are to have a club soon. Don't you say so?"
The girls gathered about her. Bob's remark, repeated by Jessie, had been most timely, and crystallized what had been in the girls'
minds,--to organize such a club for women as had been organized for the men.
They talked rapidly, several at a time; but at last they listened to Esther, as she asked them to visit the school at an hour they could agree upon, on the following Monday. This they promised to do. But at this juncture, John Harding interrupted the conversation.
"They want ter know as will yer tell 'em a short story, Miss Bright."
"A story? Let--me--see--! What shall I tell them, Jack?"
"Tell 'em about Abraham Lincoln, as didn't have no chance till he made it hisself."