I don't know how it is Jessie cannot be taught; and yet she is far from being an idiot, for the little thing understands; nor is she stupid, for she is quick enough to outwit us all. Still, they have never been able to teach her anything. Her eyes (I don't know what color they are) fly away like butterflies directly you attempt to catch them, and settle on all places but on her book. We think she can read, but no one is sure of it. If told to learn, she pouts her lips like cherries, until you feel inclined to bite them; and her little head swings to and fro, Nelly, like the bells on a fuchsia when set a dancing by the wind. The lady principal cannot scold her. The utmost she can do is to call her to her in an angry tone, when she takes up her little head in her two hands as if it were a bowl of milk, and kisses her gently on the forehead. This is all her punishment; and the little culprit runs back into her place as quick as a rabbit.
But if she can't read, or spell, or learn, you should only hear her sing, Nell! It is like a wild bird. She warbles every air she hears. Music seems to gush from her like water from a fountain. Once she was caught playing, and they say it sounded like the rejoicing of good spirits; but she cried when they wanted her to do it again, and has never touched the instrument since. She dances more like a fairy than a human being. And yet when Monsieur Viaulon (the French dancing-master) attempted to teach her the polka, she ran away and hid herself behind the great globe in the music-room. The truth is, her dancing has nothing of the ball-room in it. She flits about so restlessly, it makes your eyes wink to look at her. Her feet never seem happy on the ground, and I always have a curious fear when the window is opened that Jessie will fly out of it.
The girls are rather frightened at her restless ways and her strange beauty, which seem to belong more to the air than to the earth. They declare that she is a fairy changeling; and that the tale which is told of her father being shot in a duel, and of her mother dying when Jessie was born, is all a story. Jessie rarely goes home. The only person who comes to see her is an aged aunt, with a face all over lines, like a railway map. She brings her plenty of toys and plenty of sweeties; but Jessie, apparently, does not care the least about her. The only person her flighty disposition stops in its giddy career to alight upon is Amy Darling. She listens to no one else without impatience—she will play with no one else, except it is a young kitten that belongs to the cook—she will obey no one else. But then I believe, if Amy spoke to the lightning, that she would stop it.
I am so tired of scribbling, dear Nelly, that I can't write any more to-day, though I could fill a whole band-box with particulars about this place. So no more at present from your dear affectionate.
KITTY.
SOME THOUGHTS ON TRAINING FEMALE TEACHERS.
BY MISS M. S. G.
IN a former communication, we sought to awaken the more lively and practising interest of ladies generally (especially those possessed of large means and influence), in the subject of teacher-training to an extent and thoroughness of method which have hitherto been scarcely deemed requisite, especially in those portions of the country where education has been conducted too much, if we may say so, at hap-hazard. Such of our readers as have traversed various sections of our wide-spread land will realize what we mean, as they recall juvenile groups, collected or bustled together, because something must be done with them, to be coaxed, awed, or driven by a leader who occupied the post as a pis aller, or as a mere half-way house to some less wearisome or more lucrative avocation. We are not fearful here of wounding the self-love or better feelings of any truly estimable or conscientious teacher, for such we have ever found the most prompt to welcome improvement, the most open to suggestions of amendment. But perceiving, as we do, throughout the community, marked signs of a willingness, a desire to assign to instructors a more elevated position, a post of honor among the benefactors of the race, and knowing, by experience, the readiness of many to meet the requisite claims of expenditure, it is to teachers themselves, to young teachers especially, and to those aspiring to that high and responsible office, that we would now offer a few earnest, and we trust heart-stirring questions and remarks.
We would ask on whom and on what must mainly rest the position they are to hold, the character of the work to be effected? Surely, in themselves and in the disinterested and docile spirit with which it is entered on and pursued. Short of high aims and pure motives, no course can leave its valuable impress, and it is an acknowledged, even if too little credited, maxim, that they who best learn to obey and submit to lawful rule, best know how to govern. Let us therefore be permitted to persuade the young and high-spirited to remember that their time will come to take the lead, and that no premature assumption of authority or airs of control will avail for half the benefit to be derived from a teachable spirit, and quiet observing and waiting for opportunity. We know full well and practically that this simple method is capable of eliciting the most harmonious and beautiful results, and that between teachers of experience and those seeking preparation for the work, a friendship will grow of a character the most extended and the most varied in its points of interest. We will not pause to enlarge on the sad contrast to this state of things, its multiform evils—for we do not like looking on the dark side of subjects which should bring out every latent grace and virtue of the soul. Moreover, we are fully persuaded of better things, so far at least as intention and desire are concerned, yet a friendly hand may offer some warning hints of evils which are wont to creep in and mar the benefit and beauty of fulfilment.