Boarding Round/Chapter 8

Squire Hendee was the member of the school board, selected to visit the schools, although the others sometimes "dropped in." In his circuit, he reached the Corner district a little late. Thanksgiving was past, the first snow had fallen, and so winter seemed to have really "set in." It was early Monday morning when the Squire arrived. Coming up to the schoolhouse just as the scholars were finding their places on their benches, he carefully brushed the snow from his boots, quietly opened the door, without rapping, and with no loss of dignity, was immediately installed in the place of honor, the master's chair.

He remained through the forenoon, listening to the reading, and the spelling, of the scholars, observing them in their "ciphering," attending to some recitations in geography and grammar, occasionally asking a question, which he thought was improperly omitted in the text book, until the noon hour arrived. Then it ​devolved upon him to make the appropriate "remarks."

As the man, whose kindliness of nature shone through the covering of dignity, with which he ever conceived himself to be enveloped, rose to address the school, it was stillness itself. For about ten minutes no sound was heard but the melodious flow of words from the lips of the orator. After a graceful introduction, and a brief setting forth of those principles that ought always to obtain in the discipline of the youthful mind, he came to his peroration: "My young friends," he said, "after long and serious reflection, it has become my de-lib-er-ate judgment, that, in view of the ne-ces-sity, in this land of freedom, and of elo-quent speech, and of correct and im-pres-sive com-posi-tion, in the English language, it would be a most useful in-no-va-tion, in our common, public schools,—which it cannot be denied are the bulwark of our liberties—to introduce, at stated intervals, perhaps on Saturdays of alternate weeks,—to introduce, I say, the speaking of pieces, on the part of the boys, and the reading of compositions, on the part of the girls, both the older and the younger pupils."

Then Squire Hendee, in the joyful consciousness of having done his duty in a most acceptable manner, gracefully bowed his adieus to that part of "the hope of the future," which ​he had thus addressed, and departed to his own home.

The suggestion in relation to special exercises on alternate Saturdays—the school "kept" only five days the other weeks—was pleasing to the teacher, and was accepted by a rising vote of the school. So the scholars were directed to take word to their homes, that one week from the next Saturday, all their parents and friends were invited to be present, to listen to special exercises—special in relation to their every day lessons, and general, in that the whole school would participate.

As something occurred a few days before the visitation of the Squire, which came to have relation to the "speaking of pieces," it should not be passed over. Not far from the Corner district lived a funny little old man, who was known as Bob Keach. In the same neighborhood was another man who, as he himself used to say, was "steady by jerks and crazy by turns," and his name was Peter Snow. These two, the funny man and the crazy man, happened along the road just as the old stage, then on runners, was passing up by the Corner schoolhouse. On top of the stage was seated Jake Tingley, he having begged a ride to school. The driver was Solomon Cricket, a man with only one eye, and that an immense, bloodshot, scary-looking affair, which once ​turned on you could not be forgotten. This man thought to have a little fun, and so invited the two interesting specimens, that he had overtaken, to take a ride. They readily assented; they seated themselves on the stage, one by the side, and the other right behind, poor Jake. Soon they came to a place where the snow had blown into the path, and Mr. Cricket, just to frighten, for a moment, his comical load of specimens, drove up on the side of a high bank. But the bargain which he thus made with himself contained more than he was looking for. The crazy man thought he would have some sport out of it, too; so as soon as one runner began to rise, and thus make the high box, on which they were seated, uneven, he slyly gave Jake and the funny man a hard push to the downhill side, and over they all went into the snow. Mr. Cricket succeeded in stopping his horses, and the unfortunate stage was righted up; but Peter, Bob, and Jake, about that time, made up one irregular monogram, as they appeared in the snow. Of this sprawling trio, clumsy Jake was deposited nearest the ground, and was almost totally eclipsed; only one boot and one arm were distinctly visible. The sharp ice had cut a gash in his forehead, and made ugly scratches on his cheek.

The school boys perceived how they might utilize this affair for their own and others' enjoyment, when they should come to the Satur​day declamations. Jake would surely be one of the speakers, and he would need assistance in preparing his "oration." That assistance their naturally benevolent disposition prompted them to give.

The day came when the speaking of pieces, and the reading of compositions, would, ostensibly, be the great attraction at the Corner schoolhouse. If there was any other special attraction, it was not spoken of by those who felt it; so nothing can be positively affirmed in regard to it. However it may have been, much enthusiasm was aroused. Before the hour, the little schoolhouse began to present a most unusual appearance. Ordinarily, visitors had been remarkably few. Indeed, to make room for company was not taken into account when the house was built. And up to this point, the people had not perceived the omission. Now the ladies who flocked into the little enclosure, expressed great surprise that the wise fathers, who built that house, should not have had wit enough to make it a little larger. When the scholars had got in too, only the taller among them could be easily discovered. Some sticks of wood were brought in, and the little folks that usually sat on the inner benches, were placed on these logs, back of the teacher's desk. As many of the ladies as possible—old and young, large and small, fat and lean—were crowded in, on the vacated seats. Squire Hendee, of course, was induced to occupy the one ​chair. To have crowded him in where his ribs would not have free play, would have been wholly inconsistent with the place he was born to fill. No such indignity could be offered to him, although some of the weaker sex must stand up—which thing they did, while such as were not troubled with bashfulness, were induced to squeeze in among the boys and girls, on the high benches.

Some of the scholars had very much dreaded the approaching performance, but the majority were greatly pleased. Because some were timid, the master had told them that, if any wished to do so, for once, he would accept some selection which they might make, to be read. It might be an anecdote, or a joke, or anything that they could pick up, that would be suitable for such a time. He was quite willing that they should have a little fun out of it. Every such occasion, he thought, helped to blow off any superfluous steam. So some old saws, and stale jokes, were produced. One old story, however, could be made to have a pertinent present application—so the scholar thought. Squire Hendee had no natural hair, except a slight resemblance to something on the back of his neck. He wore a carefully preserved wig. This scholar, with one eye squinting at the august personage before him, read the following: "A minister who wore a wig in place of what was once his hair, was preaching at an open air service, from the text, ​'From him that hath not, shall be taken away that which he seemeth to have.' 'My hearers,' he exclaimed, 'it is easy to illustrate the truth of this text. There are too many who go through the world only seeming to have,' when, at that instant, a sharp gust of wind took off his wig, leaving his head entirely bare."

The Squire, in his conscious innocence, sat imperturbed. No change was perceptible, unless it were a small, additional incipient wrinkle on his classic forehead, and a very slight change in the corners of his mouth.

Among the original stories that some of the little girls' mammas saw that they wrote, was one by Mary Pond. As showing how true to nature the thoughts of those are, who are nearest to nature, it may be quoted:

"My kitty is little 'cause it hain't growed big yet. It has black fore legs, and one white hind leg. It is just lovely. My little kitty's short tail sticks right up, and drinks milk. It plays awful pretty. I love kitty."

Many of the larger girls read their own compositions, and the boys declaimed. Last, but not least, was Jake Tingley's contribution to the entertainment. As his name was called he managed by moving laterally as well as forward, to get to an open place, sufficiently extensive for him to show himself. He had the eager and sympathetic attention of his audi​ence. This, as one of the prerequisites of real oratory, was greatly in his favor. A handkerchief was tied over one eye, while the scratches on his cheek, and the bruise on his nose, made plaintive pleas for kind consideration. When he had fixed his useful feet so that his position was secure, he stretched out his right arm to its full extent, and thus began:

This effort was followed by tumultuous applause. The time had now arrived for appropriate remarks. The Squire stood upon his feet, and, looking with benignant eyes over the singularly mixed company, gave expression to the thoughts that had for a good while been gathering momentum: "I deem myself happy that I am permitted to address you on this unique occasion. But no word from me is necessary. This experiment is a success. You who have come in here to-day, bear most emphatic testimony to your regard for this school, and your love to these dear scholars. I will only add that this course of discipline, however severe it may seem, is for the great good of those who receive it. It is the neces​sary process of shaping the intellectual powers for the attainment of their highest ends. It is simply the cutting of the diamond, that its greatest possible beauty and brilliancy may appear."

The Squire was under such a pressure of happy emotion that he forgot to prolong, or to separate, the syllables of the words he used. He was sitting near to the rich widow Aikin and her elegantly attired daughter. After receiving a few whispered words from the widow, he again rose to his feet. "I am reminded," he said, "that it might be an encouragement to these scholars to see some beautifully cut diamonds. It may aid them to receive a deeper impression from the figure of speech which I used. I am therefore happy to say, further, that Miss Sophrena Aikin will be superlatively pleased after the school is dismissed, to show to you, children, the diamonds that she is now wearing. They are expensive. One of these is valued at more than five hundred dollars. Some of the larger scholars will remember that, several years ago, Miss Aikin was a member of this school."

These words were very pleasing to the wealthy widow, till the Squire came to say, that, "several years ago," Miss Aikin was a member of this school. "What on earth should he want to say that for?" was the thought of the both pleased and displeased lady.

​After the school was "let out," the young ladies seemed in no haste to leave. Neither did their mammas. All of their remarks were exceedingly complimentary. They could not say enough in praise of the school. Those who had not before met James Sears, improved the opportunity to be presented to him. Each one praised still further the school. They had wanted to see it ever since he had been teaching. They were more than pleased with it.

And the rich widow in her praises surpassed them all. To be able to give such entertainment as they had then received, was a great achievement.

She invited the teacher to go home with her to tea, but a previous engagement obliged him to regretfully decline.