A distant bell tinkled: immediately three ladies entered the room,

each walked to a table and took her seat. Miss Miller assumed the

fourth vacant chair, which was that nearest the door, and around

which the smallest of the children were assembled: to this inferior

class I was called, and placed at the bottom of it.

Business now began, the day's Collect was repeated, then certain

texts of Scripture were said, and to these succeeded a protracted

reading of chapters in the Bible, which lasted an hour. By the time

that exercise was terminated, day had fully dawned. The

indefatigable bell now sounded for the fourth time: the classes

were marshalled and marched into another room to breakfast: how

glad I was to behold a prospect of getting something to eat! I was

now nearly sick from inanition, having taken so little the day

before.

The refectory was a great, low-ceiled, gloomy room; on two long

tables smoked basins of something hot, which, however, to my dismay,

sent forth an odour far from inviting. I saw a universal

manifestation of discontent when the fumes of the repast met the

nostrils of those destined to swallow it; from the van of the

procession, the tall girls of the first class, rose the whispered

words "Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!"

"Silence!" ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but one of

the upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed,

but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top of

one table, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I looked

in vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was not

visible: Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat,

and a strange, foreign-looking, elderly lady, the French teacher, as

I afterwards found, took the corresponding seat at the other board.

A long grace was said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought in

some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.

Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my

portion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hunger

blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess; burnt

porridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon

sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl

taste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort

was soon relinquished. Breakfast was over, and none had

breakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we had not got, and a

second hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the schoolroom.

I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I saw

one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked at

the others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of

them, the stout one, whispered "Abominable stuff! How shameful!"




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