THE CHAPTER VI. OLD TIMES. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way -Goldsmith's Deserted Village. HE manners and customs of some portions of New England do not differ greatly from what they were one hundred ye years ago. They have their own way of doing things, and that is the way their grandfather's did it before them. A school-meeting in a country district, is just the same as it was half a century ago. In the matter of schoolhouses there has been a rise and decline, all within fifty years. It is within the memory of man, not yet old, when a portion of some private house was rented for the use of the district school. A load or two of green wood was brought to the door, and the school-master was expected to cut it up ready for use; said master usually provided himself with a good, strong ferule, or ruler, as it was called, and a nice slender hickory or birch switch, which was used to persuade refractory boys and girls to mend their ways. The furniture of a school room then was somewhat unique. The seats, or benches, as they were called, were usually made from the first slice of a chestnut log, called a slab. Usually it had four large auger-holes bored into the convex side of it, into which were driven great sticks, for legs. That left the flat side up, upon which the unfortunate children were allowed to sit for six hours each day, without being able to touch a foot to the floor, and without a single thing to rest their backs against. The seats for the larger scholars were still higher, and the pupil usually sat facing the wall, with a board in front, which was called a desk, upon which was laid their writing books, slates, etc. When they read or spelled, which was usually about five times each day, they were obliged to right about as best they could, in order to face the teacher, who usually stood somewhere near the centre of the room. It would be considered somewhat difficult for a young lady of the present day to get in and out from behind those long, tall benches; but practice makes perfect, and they very soon became expert in changing their positions. The teacher was expected to write their copies, in their writingbooks; mend their goose-quill pens; keep up the fire; hear the children say their letters, four times each day, and follow the reading class in their New Testament readings, at least twice each day. That Bible or Testament reading was quite an event, fifty years years ago, in New England. Each scholar would be required to read a verse, beginning at one end of the writing benches and going to the other. It was often the case that a scholar could not read an average of two words without stopping to spell it out; and when it happened that such an one was required to read a long verse, one could almost take a nap. The stupid fellow would repeat word after word after the teacher, and let his eyes wander from his book as soon as he repeated each, until the next one was called, and so on to the end. Jim Dowdle was one of this kind. He never could learn, and the terrible ordeal through which he passed was excruciating. Great drops of prespiration gathered on his brow as the color came and went around his mouth until the last word was repeated. Upon one occasion the whole school were in a . titter before he waded through, which so incensed him, that he dropped his book by his side, and rolling up his eyes, he said, "Now laugh, all on ye, laugh!" which was the signal for a general roar. There are many pleasant reminiscenses of those days, as for instance, when some pretty girl sat next to you, who happened to be the favorite of the school; for whom partiality was shown, even by the teacher, who was supposed to be incapable of any preference. Who shall say what effect such close proximity to gentleness and beauty may not have had upon the rough, uncouth young men of half a century ago? It may have influenced the lives of thousands of those who have since made their mark in the world; and the present generation must still feel their influence for good, and the same moral effect may descend to the generations that shall come after us. Who shall say how long their influence will be felt, away down the dim vista of coming years? But still, they were About the time of which we write, a new order of things was established. They began to build schoolhouses. It might very properly have been called the age of schoolhouses. True, they were unostentatious; indeed, they were simplicity itself. an improvement upon the old system of putting rough wooden benches against some old tumble-down kitchen, and calling it a schoolroom. The location usually selected was at some cross-roads, or at a corner that would be central for the district. There was usually an entry or hall, running across the entire end of the building, often as large as five by twenty feet, out of which opened two doors into the school-room proper. Some of the more pretentious had two outside doors opening into the hall, and two other doors into the school-room. They were usually without paint, or ornament, but now and then one was treated to a coat of red paint, which seemed to be the prevailing color at that time. The side seats were usually elevated about one foot from the floor; upon the platform, in front of the seat, looking toward the middle of the room, were the writing desks, which formed a back for the children's seats. These, with a few benches standing in a hollow square around the stove, were all the seats the house could afford. The "entry," as it was called, was usually the receptacle of wood, where also were placed the indispensable waterpail and dipper. Along, upon either side, were nails driven, upon which the scholars hung their hats and wraps. In the center of the room was placed a large stove, with a great capacity for wood; the pipe usually ran straight up through the ceiling, where it entered a brick chimney, which was supported by a single perpendicular timber, just back of the pipe. In cold weather the teacher would cram this great iron box with wood, until the room became intolerable; and then the windows and doors would be thrown open; the result severe colds and a general barking among the children, to the annoyance of each other. was The teacher was required to labor six days in the week, and the pay was from eight to twelve dollars a month; at the latter price, he was often required to board himself. But boarding around was cus tomary, prorating according to the number of children sent to school. This custom usually created more or less jealousy, especially if the teacher was a single gentleman and good-looking, as many of his pupils were young women, who were not above smiling on the teacher. It was not always that the teacher stayed longest where there were the most children; indeed, some poor or disagreeable families were excused altogether. Spelling schools were quite a feature in a district school, during the winter term, when the scholars from the surrounding districts would be invited. It was not an uncommon occurrence for them to go five or six miles to attend one of those entertainments. They usually took place in the evening, and lasted until the candles were burned out, when it was time for the young men to be looking out for some girl to accompany home. Their offers were not always accepted; sometimes the young lady had made a previous engagement; and then, again, the young man may not have been to the liking of the girl. The spelling classes were arrayed against each other; a boy and a girl having been selected to choose sides. After all present had been invited by one side or the other, which was done alternately; the contest began in good earnest. When one side missed a word the boy or girl missing it must leave the ranks, and the opposite side had a right to draw one from the side upon which the word had been missed; then if the other side failed to spell it, the one missing must leave, and the same one that had been drawn to that side would be called back; so that, frequently, a really good speller would be kept going from one side to the other, until the hard word was spelled correctly. Sometimes such a word would floor half of those in the class, but that was no great loss, for the good spellers were left, who seemed to defy hard words, and spell on until it became monotonous, when they were ordered to stand up. The teacher would then select the most peculiar and difficult words to be found, and the one who stood up the longest was considered the champion speller. If one word floored them all, it was a kind of draw game, and each felt himself equal to the others, at least, and usually found some excuse for not spelling it. CHAPTER VII. THE MEETING HOUSE. Bubble on, ye priests, amuse mankind -W. Shirley's Parricide. NE would suppose that the churches would have kept pace with ONE the times, but on the contrary they seem to be the very last of all the institutions of the country to take a step forward. True the old sounding-boards and high-backed pews have gradually been done away with. But many of the old-time customs remain the same as they were a century ago. For fifty years there has not been any perceptable improvement in the churches, inside or out. The congregations act the same as they did generations ago, and they absolutely refuse to listen to any new doctrine. For that matter, any man that can read the Bible without understanding it is considered fit to preach the gospel. He is supposed to be able to expound the Scriptures, whether he reads them intelligently or not. They argue that it is a sin for a man to write a sermon, and they will not sit under such preaching if they can help themselves. They say: "Open your mouth and God will fill it if he wishes you to speak." Within little more than a year, the writer listened to a preacher of about the ordinary intelligence, who said he did not like such religion as required a man to read a sermon or prayer. For his part, he did not believe in such, and he thought God almighty, turned a deaf ear to sermons of that kind. Another man, who happened to be present, who was a Swedenborgian, arose, and said he differed somewhat from the brother who had just spoken, and that he reads Mr. Giles' sermon simply because |