Jeffersonian Republican. April 14, 1841 || Sunbury American. May 8, 1841 || The Caledonian. August 17, 1841 || Daily Bulletin. December 1, 1841
The Rising Generation
We once “visited” a country school in Pumpkinville, kept by a Mr. Obadiah Snooks, between a clump of alder bushes and a noted frog pond. The object of our visit was of course, to see what progress the “rising generation” was making in the walks of literature and science; and we can assure the reader that we came away highly gratified, and much [more] amused.
Having seated our dignified self in the master's arm-chair, we threw one leg over the other—looked as serious as a psalm book, and waited for the first exhibition.
“Fifth class take their places to read,” was the grand signal for an attack on our gravity; at which command out scampered into the middle of the floor an interesting looking lot of urchins, truly! unwashed, unshod, unshorn and uncombed was the general aspect. After they had writhed, twisted and squirmed through the reading of their monosyllables, came on the spelling! Tim Titmouse, whose tow frock and check apron ornamented the foot of the class, was a “buster” at spelling. Witness his efforts:
“Timothy, spell hoax.”
“H, o, e, ho—a, x, ax,—hoe-axe.
“The next,” &c.
“Toe the mark, Timothy, and spell goat.”
“G, o, go—i, t, it—go it.”
Next came a class in parsing.
[Master reads] “Boys are more studious than girls, Ichabod, parse boys.”
“Boys is an indefinite article—imperative mood, singular tense, objective case, and agrees with girls.”
“Give your rule.”
“Conjunctions always connect sexes and all kinds of genders.”
We sat as composedly as a keg of oysters all the while they were committing an assault and battery upon poor Lindley Murray and never uttered a word in his defence.
“Class in geography” was the next move.
“What are the chief productions of Connecticut?”
“Onions, red flannel sassengers and wooden clocks,” cried a furzy-faced goslin from a back seat.
We then began to think about making tracks; but Mr. Snooks said he should like to have us hear his first class read—and so we halted, a chapter in the New Testament was selected—and all went on smoothly and eloquently till some Johnny Raw came to a certain verse which he rendered thus: “He saw Abraham afar off and Leather-ears in Boston!”
We grabbed out hat, and shot out of the school-house like a streak; and have ever since kept clear of those places where they teach young ideas how to shoot so outrageously!—Sunday Mercury.
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The Deserted Children.
“I will record in this place,” says Mr. Flint, in his Travels of America, “a narrative that impresses me deeply. It was a fair example of the cases of extreme misery and desolation that are often witnessed on the Mississippi river.
“In the Sabbath School at New Madrid, we received three children, who were introduced to that place under the following circumstances. A man was descending the river with three children in his pirogue. He and his children had landed on a desert island on a bitter snowy evening in December. There were but two houses near, and these at Little Prairie opposite the island. He wanted more whiskey, although he had been drinking [it] too freely. Against the persuasions of the children, he left them, to cross over to these houses and renew his supply. The wind blew high, and the river was rough. Nothing could dissuade him from this dangerous attempt. He told them he should return that night. He left them in tears, and exposed to the pitiless pelting of the storm, and started for his carouse. The children saw the boat sink before he had half crossed the passage—the man was drowned.
“These forlorn beings were left without any other covering than their own scanty, ragged dress, for he had taken his blankets with him. They neither had fire nor shelter, and no other food than uncooked pork and corn. It snowed fast and the night closed over them in this situation. The oldest was a girl of six years, but remarkably shrewd and acute for her age. The next was a girl of four, and the youngest a boy of two.
“It was affecting to hear the oldest girl describe the desolation of heart, as she set herself to examine her resources. She made her brother and sister creep together and draw their feet under their clothes. She covered them with leaves and branches, and thus they passed the first night. In the morning, the younger children wept bitterly with cold and hunger. The pork she cut into small pieces [and made them chew corn with these pieces]. She then persuaded them to run about by setting them the example. Then she made them return to chewing corn and pork. It would seem as if Providence had a special eye to these [poor] children, for in the course of the day some Indians landed on the island and found them, and, as they were coming up to New Madrid, took them with them.”
