It is needless to go through the form of opening the school to-day; for, with the exception of Waster Lunny's girl, I have had no scholars for nine days.
Yesterday she announced that there would be no more schooling till it was fresh, "as she wasna comin';" and indeed, though the smoke from the farm chimneys is a pretty prospect for a snowed-up schoolmaster, the trudge between the two houses must be weary work for a bairn.

As for the other children, who have to come from all parts of the hills and glen, I may not see them for weeks.

Last year the school was practically deserted for a month.

A pleasant outlook, with the March examinations staring me in the face, and an inspector fresh from Oxford.

I wonder what he would say if he saw me to-day digging myself out of the schoolhouse with the spade I now keep for the purpose in my bedroom.
The kail grows brittle from the snow in my dank and cheerless garden.
A crust of bread gathers timid pheasants round me.