The Log School-House on the Columbia | Page 5

there, Gretchen,
bring her violin with her; but I have a secret to tell ye. Gretchen is a
kind of a poet, makes rhymes, she does; makes fool rhyme with school,
and such things as that. Now, I don't take any interest in such things.
But she does play the violin beautiful. Learned of a German teacher.
Now, do you want to know why I let her bring her violin? Well, I
thought it might help you. You've got a hard lot of scholars to deal with
out here, and there are Injuns around, too, and one never knows what
they may do.
"Well, schoolmaster, you never heard nothin' like that violin. It isn't no
evil spirit that is in Gretchen's violin; it's an angel. I first noticed it one
day when husband and I had been havin' some words. We have words
sometimes. I have a lively mind, and know how to use words when I
am opposed. Well, one day when husband and I had been havin' words,
which we shouldn't, seein' we are Methody, Gretchen began to cry, and
went and got her violin, and began to play just like a bird. And my high
temper all melted away, and my mind went back to the old farm in
New England, and I declare, schoolmaster, I just threw my apron over
my head and began to cry, and I told Gretchen never to play that tune
again when I was talking to husband for his good.
"Well, one day there came a lot of Injuns to the house and demanded
fire-water. I am Methody, and don't keep any such things in the house.
Husband is a sober, honest man. Now, I've always noticed that an Injun
is a coward, and I think the best way to get along with Injuns is to
appear not to fear them. So I ordered the stragglers away, when one of
them swung his tommyhawk about my head, and the others threatened
to kill me. How my heart did beat! Gretchen began to cry; then she ran
all at once for her violin and played the very same tune, and the Injuns
just stood like so many dumb statues and listened, and, when the tune

was over, one of them said 'Spirits,' and they all went away like so
many children.
"Now, I thought you would like to hear my gal play between schools,
and, if ever you should get into any trouble with your scholars or Injuns
or anybody, just call upon Gretchen, and she will play that tune on the
violin."
"What wonderful tune is it, madam?"
"I don't know. I don't know one tune from another, though I do sing the
old Methody hymns that I learned in Lynn when I am about my work. I
don't know whether she knows or not. She learned it of a German."
"I am glad that you let her bring the instrument. I once played the violin
myself in the orchestra of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society."
"Did you? Then you like it. I have a word or two more to say about
Gretchen. She's a good gal, and shows her bringing up. Teach her
reading, writing, and figures. You needn't teach her no grammar. I
could always talk without any grammar, in the natural way. I was a
bound-girl, and never had much education. I have had my ups and
downs in life, like all the rest of the world. You will do the best you can
for Gretchen, won't you?"
"Yes, my dear madam, and for every one. I try to make every one true
to the best that is in them. I am glad to have Gretchen for a scholar. I
will speak to her by and by."
How strange was the scene to Gretchen! She remembered the winding
Rhine, with its green hills and terraced vineyards and broken-walled
castles; Basel and the singing of the student clubs in the gardens on
summer evenings; the mountain-like church at Strasburg; and the old
streets of Mayence. She recalled the legends and music of the river of
song--a river that she had once thought to be the most beautiful on
earth. But what were the hills of the Rhine to the scenery that pierced
the blue sky around her, and how light seemed the river itself to the
majestic flow of the Columbia! Yet the home-land haunted her. Would

she go back again? How would her real parents have felt had they
known that she would have found a home here in the wilderness? Why
had Providence led her steps here? Her mother had been a pious
Lutheran. Had she been led here to help in some future mission to the
Indian race?
"Dreaming?" said Mrs. Woods. "Well, I suppose it can't