An Echo From the Old Bark School

"An Echo From the Old Bark School" is a collection of short stories by Australian author Henry Lawson, reflecting on the experiences and memories of rural life in Australia. The book captures the essence of the Australian landscape and the struggles of its people, often focusing on themes of hardship, resilience, and camaraderie. Through vivid storytelling and poignant characterization, Lawson explores the complexities of the human condition against the backdrop of a changing society, making it a significant work in Australian literature.

• Short story

								
It was the first Monday after the holidays. The children had taken their
seats in the Old Bark School, and the master called out the roll as
usual:

“Arvie Aspinall.”... “'Es, sir.”

“David Cooper.”... “Yes, sir.”

“John Heegard.”... “Yezzer.”

“Joseph Swallow.”... “Yesser.”

“James Bullock.”... “Present.”

“Frederick Swallow.”... “Y'sir.”

“James Nowlett.”... . (Chorus of “Absent.”)

“William Atkins.”... (Chorus of “Absent.”)

“Daniel Lyons.”... “Perresent, sor-r-r.”

Dan was a young immigrant, just out from the sod, and rolled his “r's”
 like a cock-dove. His brogue was rich enough to make an Irishman laugh.

Bill was “wagging it.” His own especial chum was of the opinion that
Bill was sick. The master's opinion did not coincide, so he penned
a note to William's parents, to be delivered by the model boy of the
school.

“Bertha Lambert.”... “Yes, 'air.”

“May Carey.”... “Pesin', sair.”

“Rose Cooper.”... “Yes, sir.”

“Janet Wild.”... “Y-y-yes, s-sir.”

“Mary Wild.”...

A solemn hush fell upon the school, and presently Janet Wild threw her
arms out on the desk before her, let her face fall on them, and sobbed
heart-brokenly. The master saw his mistake too late; he gave his head
a little half-affirmative, half-negative movement, in that pathetic old
way of his; rested his head on one hand, gazed sadly at the name, and
sighed.

But the galoot of the school spoilt the pathos of it all, for, during
the awed silence which followed the calling of the girl's name, he
suddenly brightened up--the first time he was ever observed to do so
during school hours--and said, briskly and cheerfully “Dead--sir!”

He hadn't been able to answer a question correctly for several days.

“Children,” said the master gravely and sadly, “children, this is the
first time I ever had to put 'D' to the name of one of my scholars. Poor
Mary! she was one of my first pupils--came the first morning the school
was opened. Children, I want you to be a little quieter to-day during
play-hour, out of respect for the name of your dead schoolmate whom it
has pleased the Almighty to take in her youth.”

“Please, sir,” asked the galoot, evidently encouraged by his fancied
success, “please, sir, what does 'D' stand for?”

“Damn you for a hass!” snarled Jim Bullock between his teeth, giving the
galoot a vicious dig in the side with his elbow.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes