Lewis’s father had brought some books for the use of the institution; and while he was engaged in speaking to the master, the children watched with surprise, the uniform, regular movement of so many hands, when the head monitor told them to turn, show, or clean their slates.
Lewis was afraid of interrupting the order, by asking for his little friend; but he gave him a nod of approbation as he passed him on their way out.
“We will just go through the girls’ school-room,” said Mr. Ashton, “which is of the same dimensions as the boys’.—I am sorry we cannot now stay to see the mode of instructing the children: every thing appears to be in excellent order.”
“Yes, sir,” said the master, bowing to his visitor, “system, is every thing in a large school, such as this.”
“Very true, my good friend,” returned Mr. Ashton, smiling good-humouredly; “only we must remember, that children are not mere machines; and that the education we give them should be such as to render them intelligent and useful members of society.”
CHAPTER IX.
When the little party reached home, they found Mrs. Ashton and Edward waiting to receive them. The sun was shining brightly; and, indeed, all appearance of rain had vanished, and an open carriage was at the door.
The children’s eyes sparkled with delight as the driver assisted them to get into it; then came a large basket, which must be accommodated with a place; papa’s telescope, mamma’s travelling-cloak, more clothing for the children, and lastly, papa and mamma themselves.
“Now we are off!” cried Lewis. “Papa, have you told the man which way we are to go?”
His father nodded assent.