The Schoolmaster: Carpentras 



younger boys, things assumed a different aspect. 



A weeding-out takes place in my crowd of scat- 

 terbrains. I keep the older, the more intelligent 

 ones; the others are to have a term in the prepara- 

 tory division. From that day forward things are 

 different. Curriculum there is none. In those 

 happy times the master's personality counted for 

 something; there was no such thing as the scholas- 

 tic piston working with the regularity of a machine. 

 It was left for me to act as I thought fit. Well, 

 what should I do to make the school earn its title 

 of " upper primary " ? 



Why, of course! Among other things, I shall do 

 some chemistry! My reading has taught me that 

 it does no harm to know a little chemistry, if you 

 would make your furrows yield a good return. 

 Many of my pupils come from the country; they 

 will go back to it to improve their land. Let us 

 show them what the soil is made of and what 

 the plant feeds on. Others will follow industrial 

 careers; they will become tanners, metal-founders, 

 distillers; they will sell cakes of soap and kegs 

 of anchovies. Let us show them pickling, soap- 

 making, stills, tannin, and metals. Of course I 

 know nothing about these things, but I shall learn, 

 all the more so as I shall have to teach them to 

 the boys; and your schoolboy is a little demon for 

 jeering at the master's hesitation. 



As it happens, the College boasts a small labora- 

 tory, containing just what is strictly indispensable: 

 a receiver, a dozen glass balloons, a few tubes and 

 a niggardly assortment of chemicals. That will 



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