milk, sew, knit and cook, and had followed the plow more than one day; while during harvest and corn-husking she had many a time “made a hand.”  From this cause she was strong and well knit in all her frame, a perfect picture of young womanly health and rustic beauty.  She had a soft, sweet voice and spoke without the slightest trace of a brogue, so surely does a single generation Americanize such people, and was very modest and retiring in her manners.  Like her parents, she was a devout Catholic.

It was hardly seven o’clock on an April morning when this girl unlocked the schoolhouse door at the end of her long walk and let the fresh spring breeze blow into its interior.  It was a small building, with one door, opening to the south, and six windows, two on each of three sides, all darkened with tight board shutters.  She threw all these open and raised the sashes for a fuller sweep of the air, for the school-roomish smell was stifling to one accustomed to wholesome, out-of-door air.  As soon as she felt free to take a long breath she began to examine the room in which she was to go to work.

The floor was filthy beyond description.  There was a hill of dry tobacco quids on the floor under the “teacher’s desk,” historical relics of the reign of Amos Waughops, and equally disgusting debris scattered all over the room, special contributions of the free American citizens of “deestrick four,” who had held an election in the house a few days previous.  Moreover, the desks were, many of them, smeared with tallow on the top, patches of grease that told of debating societies, singing schools, and revival meetings of the winter before—­blots that Amos had never thought of trying to remove.  The stovepipe had parted and hung trembling from the ceiling, while the small blackboard in the corner was scrawled all over with rude and indecent figures, the handiwork of the electors aforesaid.  Pray do not think I have painted this picture in too high colors, you fastidious ones, who dwell in fine houses and live in towns and have never seen sights like these.  I have not.  There are thousands of just such schoolhouses in this and every other State in the Union, that open on an April morning just as this one did.  It is a great pity that it is so, but so it is.  I wish it were otherwise.  But it isn’t, and I sometimes wonder if it ever will be!

Amy took in the situation at a glance and resolved what to do forthwith.  There was a house a quarter of a mile down the road, and thither she bent her sprightly steps.  Fifteen minutes later she returned with two buckets, a scrubbing brush, a broom and a mop.  She rolled up her sleeves, disclosing an arm that you well might envy, my dear, you who delight in the display of such charms in parlor or ball room—­charms which no cosmetics can rival—­turned up the skirt of her neat calico dress, and pinned it behind her supple waist, donned a large coarse apron that she had borrowed with the rest of her outfit, and was ready for work.