IN A COUNTRY SCHOOL

Evening Star, Issue 20137, 30 March 1929, Page 4

IN A COUNTRY SCHOOL

[Written by F.J.U., for the ‘ Evening Star.’] The bell rings at 9. Across the paddock rush the little | ones; the bigger boys are more sedate Ito show their independence. Jn the I uneven lino they respond listlessly to 1 the teacher’s good morning. One little chap looks covertly at his “ potrey,” while another attempts to clean a. "finger by means kindly provided by Nature. For the first five minutes there are uneasy shufflings, questions, and movements; the windows are opened; the books nr© taken from the desk. “May I get my ?” is heard, but at last they settle to work, and a class of reading begins. The little ones sort out their picture cards; they lick their fingers; they are absorbed m their work; no sound is made, but the old clock ticks on the mantel shelf, and a loaf is turned. Now rises a long sigh. It is the beginning of the small sounds of the school day; a throat is cleared; a toe begins tci tap gently; a pencil is knocked idly against the desk; the teacher’s voice is heard explaining and talking. “ And so we should ? ” The morning passes. Ernest looks up at me with great, clear, grey eyes, Appealing and sad. He has had some bread, with a little honey on it, for breakfast. They are desperately poor; the cows are nearly dry. His tattered coat is hut ton less", hillneatness has been attempted haphazardly in his much askew tie. I know that, to please me, ho has rummaged at home until he found this fragment of better days. His little face is polished, and his nails have been cleaned with a Stick. All this has been accomplished after taking the cows to the paddock; feeding the well-grown calves; taking milk to the pig, and chopping the day’s i supply of firewood. j His eyes are enlarged by the thinness of his little face, and" (here is a worried pucker coining right down on to the bridge of his nose. | He looks at mo patiently. Ho wauls ’ to tell me something, but is afraid that he will riot get his words correctly. I smile encouragement, and the silence breaks magically ; j “Iseen—er—l have seed a bellbird in the plantation this morning,” i he says breathlessly. e arc thrilled. The news is received with the greatest interest, and we decide to walk down the road at the interval to listen to the bird. This is really exciting! How much more vital and important is this alive thing than these dull and senseless tables. All are now working their hardest. What would happen to them if, as they all so intensely wish, they left those" dull Computations, these uninterestingly long and tiresome words, and ran to see the bird; to hear its note ring thtough the trees, to see the blue sky, to feel the fresh air of Heaven? The inspector-haunted atmosphere cools the ardour of these Nature-lovers, hut ! when the time comes, how happv thev are! How they tear down the road and patter hack again on their steps, taking a dozen where one would suffice, i And now. they sec holes in a clay bank, and stand to watch returning i wasps. That Int follow can hardly drag his yellowed legs into the hole." They H.v in and out. What kind of a house have they in there? John breaks in a hole; they round to see the honey ; to catch si'ght of the wasp that lias just disappeared. Nothing is found. Another hole is /ried in vain. Howstrange. It is discussed. ;

I crimps he digs so quickly that wo cannot catch him.” suggests Tim. “Let’s dig some more.” “But the poor householders?” sighs the grown-up. fortunately the design is frustrated by a returning wasp. It buzzes angrily and the children disperse in confusion. Another is seen experiencing transport difficulties with a very large spider. “Ho lays his eggs in the dead spider,” says Danny, with gusto, “and they hatch out and cat it,” He explains with gesture to eke out his limited vocabulary, and the others listen half-ser >ous Iy, ha I F-d ei■•isi vel y. A fantaii flits from a tree nearby. It circles round ns and rests on a twig young Ben is carrying. How friendiv it is!

(( “fweet. tweet,” it says, and again, “tweet, tweet, rwc-t, tweet, tweet.” “Ah, little dark, dark bird, so friendly and small. I wish I could reply to your questions. You wish to hear tho news? Come with us, and listen to the hell-bird.” Ho accepts the invitation, and flies about them, then (lits to a nearby tree, calls, returns, and becomes more and more familiar. Now ho is resting on the willow twig, wagging his tail, and “talking” almost into the ear of one of his small friends.

They leave the road and plunge into the plantation. The firs are clustered thick ami heavy; it is dark. The children crowd closer together: the sounds die away, and they make their way cautiously to the larches in the centre

All at once the hell notes ring out. They drop into the silence like a shooting star into the night, die away; and then there is a hoarse cackle; a sort of derisive applause. How still the childrui stand! They scarcely breathe as they listen and strain their eyes to sec the singer. Hois close at hand; he is far off; the sound dies on a sigh.. Softly and secretly they creep on, glancing here and there through the underbrush, pausing to listen, moving gently on. Alas! Nothing! The bird has gone. They must return.

As they reach the road again! the sky darkens and there is heard a faroff rumbling sound. The birds fly low in long, swift flights, and the air has become hot and still.

“Good-bye, fantail,” they cry, as the little creature goes off in haste. The little ones hasten over the hard, dusty ground. Ernest skips first on one foot, then on the other. His half-mast trousers hang precariously. But ho is happy; he has had a. beloved, an enchanting excursion. Roman'’* has ousted hunger and fatigue. He is for nnce the leader of an adventure, which, however unsuccessful, has at least been entered upon and accomplished As we enter the schoolroom the storm breaks. There is no rraing on with lessons, for the hail hits the tin roof with a noise like thunder Has it been worth braving the wrath of the inspector so to waste our precious school time? Has that happy jsrlnw on a pair of small cheeks, those kindled snarks in great eyes been worth the risk ?

Tn a few hours Ernest goes back to the muddy yard and to cow sheds, hut for a brief hour he has been a child among children. so_ why should fears and tears be troubling me?