41
Another Term
The summer vacation passed swiftly, and then Carrie Raymond prepared to return to school. The thought of meeting dear schoolmates and enjoying their companionship was very pleasant to her, but there was another thought still more pleasant—a thought that made her countenance light up with a bright, happy look and brought a tender light into her eyes and a flush of color to her cheeks. What this thought was I leave the reader to guess, and I hasten on with my story.
Some three hundred pupils gathered in the institution at the opening of the term, and yet this number did not comprise one half of the deaf-mute population of the state. Those who were by law granted admittance to enjoy the educational privileges were young. They generally entered at the age of ten or eleven years and finished their seven-year’ course of study before they attained the age of twenty. But, this term, there might be seen mingling with the other girls a young woman with a careworn look in her face. She was a deaf-mute who had been kept at home through all the years of her childhood and was then brought there to receive an education. Out of pity for her, as it appeared, the superintendent had departed from established rules and admitted her, although she was twenty-four years of age. Of course she would never be able to acquire more than the merest rudiments of an education. “What a pity that she had not sooner come to receive these benefits!” thought some of the girls, much younger in years and yet far above her in intellectual attainments. Her awkward, dejected appearance contrasted painfully with the quick, intelligent actions and refined demeanor of those who had enjoyed the benefits of the school from an early age. But she was gentle in her manners and showed evidence of possessing intellectual powers which, had they been early trained and developed, would, doubtless, have placed her on an intellectual level with many of her schoolmates. But it was now too late for her to accomplish much.
Carrie Raymond, this term, began the studies of the senior grade of the academic class, having creditably finished those of the junior and middle grades. The senior grade studies were philosophy, chemistry, grammar, rhetoric, and arithmetic. The philosophy and chemistry lessons were illustrated by occasional experiments in the laboratory. During one of these experiments, a glass bottle containing some liquid exploded, ruining the dresses of some of the girls and frightening everyone in the room; but no further damage was done.
The academic class, as before stated, was divided into three grades—or, rather, four, as there were a number of boys preparing to enter the college for deaf-mute young men at Washington, DC. While one grade was reciting, the other grades studied a lesson. The lessons were all recited by the teacher writing one question after another, and the class all simultaneously writing the answers. The teacher gave any needed explanations in the comprehensive sign language. The dictionary, which is generally almost useless to the pupils of the primary classes, proved a source of helpful information to the more enlightened minds of the pupils of the academic class.
This was the year when the women of our land rose up, resolved, if possible, to destroy the power of King Alcohol. All over the land they had formed themselves into bands, and, under the title of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, were boldly invading the dens where the ruthless king was accustomed to waylay his victims. The news of this invasion, and the cause which led to it, penetrated even to the minds of the silent learners within the walls of our school. The terrible results of strong drink were recounted, inspiring in many of them a wholesome awe of the poisonous drink. This knowledge was, by God’s help, to prove a safeguard to many of these silent ones, as it had proved to many of the inmates of the institution before them. The efficacy of these teachings may be proved by the fact that the older boys were allowed to go to the city unattended every Saturday, and none of them save one, whose father was a confirmed beer drinker and lived in the city, were ever known to return drunk. This young man so irritated the superintendent by his habit of drinking beer that he one day informed him, in the presence of his classmates, that he must either refrain from going home on Saturdays or leave the institution. After some reflection, the young man said he would quit going home. “Very well,” replied the superintendent. “See that you abide by your decision, for as soon as you break it, the doors will be closed against you.”
This term, instead of having but one examination, it was decided to have one every quarter, or every three months. The time for the first quarterly examination came, and the teachers were formed into examining committees. The academic class was to be first examined by a committee of three teachers. Before the pupils had time to compose themselves and arrange for the unpleasant task before them, this committee put in an appearance, and Professor Gilcrist withdrew. Then books were gathered up and laid away, and the work began. The questions were chosen by one of the teachers forming the committee and written on the large slate, and the pupils wrote the answers to the questions as they were presented. The committee then ascertained the number of mistakes made by each pupil, and the examination of this class was at an end. Another committee next examined the highest primary class, and so on, down to the lowest class. The work occupied several days.
I realize that time and space will not permit me to give a detailed account of the events of the term, so I will only attempt a brief outline. The governor of the state, with his officers, visited the institution and expressed themselves as highly pleased with the school. Two of the girls professed faith in Jesus as their Savior and united with the Baptist Church. Death spread his sable mantle over one of the fairest and brightest of the silent band, leaving many hearts to mourn their loss. A dramatic entertainment was given, which corresponded with the Christmas entertainment before described. The girls all enjoyed a visit to beautiful Woodruff Park. Another picnic was held in the woods, and the picnickers, upon their return to the school, found a bountiful feast spread for them under the trees in the park. Other pleasures, trials, vexations, and lessons too numerous to mention filled up the remainder of the time.
Carrie Raymond and others, who had successfully toiled thus far up the ladder of knowledge, were preparing to claim their diplomas. The graduating essays had already been written, and the work of memorizing was going on. Preparations for the party to be given by Dr. and Mrs. Mayhews were being made, the dainty little notes of invitation having already been sent out. But Carrie was in distress. Her cousin, who had volunteered to prepare her graduating costume, had written informing her that it was all complete and had been sent to her address. But the steward had several times visited the express offices in the city in search of it, only to return and report that it was not to be found. All the other girls had received the dainty white dresses that were to form their attire on graduation day, and only Carrie’s was wanting. She had almost given up the hope of receiving it and being able to graduate—for she was very particular and did not intend to graduate unless she could do so in style—when it was found and brought to her. “All’s well that ends well” is an old adage, and quite applicable in this case.
The party given in honor of the graduates was much enjoyed. The following Monday morning the graduating exercises took place. Carrie, from her elevated position on the stage, saw her father in the assembly and greeted him with a bow, wondering the while how he liked her appearance, but wondering more what a certain other gentleman in the assembly thought of her.
The essays were, as on other like occasions, delivered in signs by the writers and interpreted in oral language by Professor Gilcrist. Then the pupils rose to their feet and stood in silence while Dr. Mayhews awarded the diplomas and, in his usual kind, impressive manner, gave them some parting advice.
Greetings and congratulations soon followed. As Carrie, in company with her father, entered a hack and passed from the institution grounds, she realized that she was leaving a life that, despite its toils and trials, had been very pleasant as well as very beneficial to her. The good lessons she had learned there were not to be left behind, but they were to go with her wherever she went and prove a blessing to her.