"I wish I was at home!" said he. "I'll give up all
and go home!" The lonely boy then laid his head upon his hands, as he
sat on the ground, and indulged in a long burst of sorrow.
"Well," said a manly-looking little fellow, whilst the tears stood in
his eyes, "I'll tell my father this, anyhow. I know he won't let me come
to this school any more. Here, Jemmy, is a piece of my bread, maybe it
will do you good."
"I couldn't taste it, Frank dear," said Jemmy; "God bless you; but I
couldn't taste it."
"Do," said Frank; "maybe it will bate back the pain."
"Don't ask me, Frank dear," said Jemmy; "I couldn't ate it: I'm hurted
inwardly."
"Bad luck to me!" exclaimed the indignant boy, "if ever my ten toes will
darken this school door agin. By the livin' farmer, if they ax me at
home to do it, I'll run away to my uncle's, so I will. Wait, Jemmy, I'll
be big yit; an', be the blessed Gospel that's about my neck, I'll give
the same masther a shirtful of sore bones, the holy an' blessed minute
I'm able to do it."
Many of the other boys declared that they would acquaint their friends
with the master's cruelty to the poor scholar; but Jemmy requested them
not to do so, and said that he was determined to return home the moment
he should be able to travel.
The affrighted woman could not prevail upon him to seek a reconciliation
with her husband, although the expressions of the other scholars
induced her to press him to it, even to entreaty. Jemmy arose, and with
considerable difficulty reached the Curate's house, found him at home,
and, with tears in his eyes, related to him the atrocious conduct of the
master.
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