What this bottle contained no one but the captain knew. According to tradition and custom, it ought to be filled with wine; but the principal was a very strong, practical temperance man. However, as the contents of the bottle were to be dashed into the lake, it did not much matter what they were.
The velocity of the moving hull increased as she descended the inclined plane; and as soon as she was under full headway, Lily broke the bottle over the bow of the schooner.
"I give to this vessel the name of Lily, and may she be prosperous on the element to which she belongs," said she.
Then the band struck up "Hail to the Chief," and all the students and everybody else yelled and applauded with all their might. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and a salvo of artillery followed. The Lily struck the water, and ploughed her way nearly to the other side of the lake, where she was brought up by the lines attached to her. She rested on the water as gracefully as a swan, and as soon as she was fairly afloat, another series of ringing cheers saluted her.
The Sylph, under the charge of the first officer, immediately fastened to her, and she was towed to her berth at the wharf, where she was to remain until the next school year began, in September. But the visitors were eager to examine her, and an arrangement was made by which all who desired could pass on board, make the circuit of her deck and then leave without causing an uncomfortable crowd. Through the cabin doors and the opening for the skylight they could see something of the cabin, while the fore-scuttle gave a partial view of the cook-room.
The young officers and crew of the Sylph told their friends they should see her after she was rigged, her sails bent on, and the cabin and cook-room were furnished. There could be no doubt, so far as the students were concerned, that the young ladies who gushed so prettily over the craft would be invited to sail in her.
With this great event ended the second school year of the Beech Hill Industrial School. The students were certainly satisfied with the experience they had had there, and, notwithstanding the sharpness of the discipline, they had only pleasant memories of the past. Those who had been there two years were well prepared to earn their own living. Though none of the machinists or carpenters could be called finished workmen, they were skilled enough to obtain moderate wages. It would require more years of study and practice to make them into first-class mechanics.
None of them had yet completed the course of instruction, though the needs of their parents compelled seven of them to leave the school and assist in supporting families. By this time the reputation of the school had been established, and there were applications for three times as many young men to work as engineers, carpenters, and machinists. Good places were secured for those who were obliged to leave.
Three of them were to run stationary engines, one was to work as a carpenter, and three more were to learn trades for which their education had fitted them to a considerable degree. The principal had given them a lecture on the subject of wages, in which he bluntly told them that they could not expect full wages, for they were not competent to earn them. They were not yet physically able to do the work of a man, and they were not competent to do all that would be required of them in their several trades and callings. They had learned a great deal, and had acquired considerable dexterity; but if they were judged by what they did not know, they would stand as weak vessels. No man ever learned out in his trade, and the time never came when there was nothing more to learn.
A certain very wise man, as men are measured, declared that he had only learned enough to realize what a fool he was. The principal told the graduates that one of their greatest perils was that of knowing too much. Modesty in regard to the measurement of their own skill and knowledge was essential to them. It was better that others should find out how much they knew rather than themselves.