notes.

"Salemina," said I, "here is an opportunity of a lifetime! We
ought to address these children in their native tongue. It will be
something to talk about in educational pow-wows. They do not know
that we are distinguished visitors, but we know it. A female
member of a School Board and the Honorary President of a Froebel
Society owe a duty to their constituents. You go in and tell them
who and what I am and make a speech in French. Then I'll tell them
who and what you are and make another speech."

Salemina assumed a modest violet attitude, declined the honour
absolutely, and intimated that there were persons who would prefer
talking in a language they didn't know rather than to remain
sensibly silent.

However the plan struck me as being so fascinating that I went back
alone, looked all ways to see if any one were coming, mounted the
platform, cleared my throat, and addressed the awe-struck
youngsters in the following words. I will spare you the French,
but you will perceive by the construction of the sentences, that I
uttered only those sentiments possible in an early stage of
language-study.

"My dear children," I began, "I live many thousand miles across the
ocean in America. You do not know me and I do not know you, but I
do know all about your good Pestalozzi and I love him"

"Il est mort!" interpolated one offensive little girl in the front
row.