A history of the town of Sullivan, New Hampshire, 1777-1917, Volume I, Part 7

Author: Seward, Josiah Lafayette, 1845-1917
Publication date: 1921
Publisher: [Keene, N.H., Sentinel printing Co.]
Number of Pages: 888

USA > New Hampshire > Cheshire County > Sullivan > A history of the town of Sullivan, New Hampshire, 1777-1917, Volume I > Part 7

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And now in passing, will you, my good friends, think it presuming if I speak briefly of my own experience? The first school-room that I ever entered, either as teacher or pupil, was the little red building yonder. There may not be one present who can testify to my attempt then and there to do my duty. How often I have gone back in imagination and entered into the sports of the children gathered there ! With them I have climbed, with my hand-sled, the little hill

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to the south, and have found pure air and glorious fun in guiding it safely to the " brook." I have wandered to the old " beech trees," and have watched with ever kindling wonder the clouds as they hid from view Monadnock's granite cap. I enjoy this pastime, for I feel again a child.

As time passed on, I passed out of the limits of my native town, and step by step (I need say nothing of how it came about) I found myself in a log-cabin, on the then far frontier of Nebraska. Months passed in which I never spoke to a white woman. Indians were plenty, and various were our experiences with them. But I can say truly, that no shadow of homesickness came over me. After a time, sorrow came to me, and I sought relief from that in the school-room among the children. Here I found a channel for my thoughts outside of myself. God bless the children! I worked for them; and they, for the most part, worked nobly for themselves. Our buildings were rude, but we were satisfied, because they were the best we had. Well do I remember one of the first schools into which I went in the far west. There was not one article of school furniture save the desks, and they were made from rough boards. I papered them with

newspaper. A chair and a small table were loaned me, and I felt myself very comfortably situated, as the teacher in the district north of me was occupying a miserable sod building. After teaching many terms in different places, the iron horse finally came jogging along, and I went farther west, and for nearly twelve years was teaching in one town. The Pawnee Indians, a tribe near which we had formerly lived, had meantime been removed to their reservation, near this place. Seldom a day passed that some of its members were not in town. Often while listen- ing to my recitations, a shadow would pass across my book. Upon looking up I would see at my windows some half-dozen or more stalwart Indians, with noses and mouths flattened upon the panes, gazing intently upon us, taking notes, per- haps, of my work. You can judge of the picture, and what surprise it would have given an eastern school. But my pupils were so thoroughly accustomed to such pictures, that no notice

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was taken, and the school went on as usual. I have been at their reservation, have visited their schools and have been much pleased with the quietness and good behavior of the pupils. Their memory seems good and they learn quite readily. At one time I was much affected by their repeating in concert the twenty-third Psalm ; and I said to my self, truly the Lord is the Shepherd of the Indians, as well as of the white man. Although I wish sincerely for their civilization, I doubt much whether the Indian link in creation's chain will ever blend harmoniously with that of his white neighbor. Education does not tame him. I have in my mind's eye one, an Omaha, who had been well educated in an eastern col- lege, but as soon as he reached his tribe, he threw aside the white man's garb, donned his blanket and buffalo robe, and was as wild as the wildest.

The iron horse has been the advance courier of emigra- tion. This in its turn has brought schools and churches, wtih other elements of refined life. I had a pleasant adventure at one time in crossing the Rocky Mountains which I enjoyed very much, and it may interest you. Our train was dragging itself slowly along, when, looking ahead, the little railroad town of Sherman came in view. This town is at the height of land, between the great Salt Lake Valley and the Missouri River, and so high is it that there is scarce a day the year round that snow does not fall. When the train came to a stop, I found that we were to remain a half-hour or so. Accordingly I looked about for some mind-food, when my eye rested on what I knew at once to be a school- room. I leaped from the train and ran to the door. really wished to embrace every child in the school-room, not neglecting the pleasant-faced lady who presided as teacher. The room was faultless in its neatness, was furnished with a small organ, and all seemed orderly and nice. I talked for a few minutes with teacher and pupils and returned to the train delighted that no habitable spot could be so rough that a school might not flourish upon it. The islands of the Pacific coast boast their schools, and the last of my teaching before coming east, was at a light house, on a tiny island

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situated at the inside entrance of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We occupied for a school-room a clean new barn, just built by government. The seats and desks were rough, my seat being a block cut from a log. The birds flew in at the window, and the rabbits peeped in at the door. But what mattered that ?- the children, five in number, were anxious to learn. Their mother, a cousin of the historian Abbott, was a lady of much culture and refinement from Portland, Maine. The rough surroundings were nothing to us, for nature had hung most beautiful pictures at every point of the compass. To the northeast is Mount Baker, with its crater-shaped sum- mit, marking very nearly the boundary line between us and our British neighbor. To the east, is the Cascade Range, while far in the south, Rainier raises its lofty summit, covered with everlasting snow. To the west, with an interval of forest and water, our picture gallery displays the Olympian Chain. Of these peaks, towering high above the others, comes Olympus ; not the famous Greek Olympus, for here no heathen deity holds court, no thunder-bolts are forged, and no lightning plays about the summit. This is a grand old sentinel, that watches with a jealous eye England's posses- sions across the strait, seeming to warn her not to meddle ; that we of the free land consider no nobility of consequence, save the nobility of our free institutions, backed by the brave and true hearts of an educated community.

Thus I have taken you from Monadnock's base to the Pacific Coast. I trust the journey has not been tiresome, and will close with a short quotation from our Quaker poet.

" Yet on her rocks, and on her sands, And wintry hills, the school-house stands ; And what her rugged soil denies, The harvest of the mind supplies.

" The riches of the commonwealth Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health. And more to her than gold or grain, The cunning hand and cultured brain.

" For well she keeps her ancient stock, The stubborn strength of Pilgrim Rock ; And still maintains, with milder laws, And clearer light, the Good Old Cause !

" Nor heeds the skeptic's puny hands, While near her school the church-spire stands, Nor fears the blinded bigot's rule, While near her church-spire stands the school."

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ADDRESS OF GEO. C. HUBBARD, ESQ.

MR. PRESIDENT AND FRIENDS-I think there must have been an oversight somewhere, to assign so large a sub- ject to so small a man-but, as it is all in the family, I suppose any deficiencies in the children will be overlooked. It is not supposed that in so large a family all will be equally talented, or that they have had equal advantages for cultivating the talents they possess, but if they do their best in the sphere assigned them, they are entitled to equal

respect. I remember hearing my father tell strangers that Sullivan was a very even town (he meant the people, not the land) : none were very rich, none very poor, all good livers. He might have added, that they were, as a town, very even in intelligence and virtue. I was brought up to believe Sullivan a model town, and I have never thought otherwise.

But I believe I was expected to say something about " Our Schools," that is, I suppose, the schools that we, the boys and girls of Sullivan, attended. Well, on the 14th day of April, 1827, I became a resident of Sullivan, and I suppose about five years after, became a pupil in the public school. My first recollections are more particularly in regard to the good time we had playing games, and of the big crowd of boys around the old fire-place, about three feet deep, when the large boys in front would poke coals of fire into the holes in the floor, and then go to their seats-soon to be sent for snow to put out the fire. I was not a big boy then, but had to squeeze under the older boys' arms to warm myself. I was consid- ered by my teachers as a very well-behaved boy ; at any rate, I did not receive so much attention in the way of punishment as some others, perhaps because my naughtiness was not found out, but it answered my purpose just as well as inno- cence at the time. The punishment we received for our pranks was undoubtedly deserved, but we thought at the time that we got some pretty severe jogs in those " Cradles of Liberty." For more than twenty years I was connected with the schools in this town, either as pupil, teacher or superintendent. As teacher, I can look through this family

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gathering, and find many who were my pupils. And may I not indulge a little just pride, as I do so ?- for I can recall none who have not made respected citizens, and some have taken a high stand in society ; and the mind always lingers about the memory of those brave soldier boys who gave their lives for the unity of their country, when they were hardly out of their school days.

The schools of Sullivan have always had the benefit of good home influence. During my experience here as a teacher, the parents always showed a deep interest by frequent visits to the school-room, and by crowding it on examination days, and by holding meetings in the different districts to discuss subjects connected with the welfare of their schools. The town was fortunate above many others in not having places of resort, which tend to counteract the good influences of home and school.

I have not the statistics, but am informed that Sullivan has furnished nearly two score of men for the learned professions ; very few towns with no larger population have done as well. These of course laid the foundation of their education in her common schools. She can also point with pride to hosts of good citizens, in all parts of the country, who obtained nearly or quite their entire education in her public schools. And now just a word in general. Education is not the storing of knowledge, but the development of our natural powers. It is not a substitute for intelligence, but only a very helpful means to it. I presume we have all known men of very limited education, but whose good sense and sound judgment made them good citizens ; and others whom even a good college education would not make their equals ; but a good education was desirable in both cases.

I believe our common school system the best possible for educating a people who are to govern themselves, who are to be citizens of a great Republic like ours, because it brings children of all classes together, on a common level, thus preventing that alienation of the less from the more prosper- ous, which is a grave danger in a free government. A very large proportion of our population end their education in the

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public school. How necessary, then, that we make it as efficient as possible, that we may have an intelligent and virtuous people, in whose hands we can safely trust the wel- fare of our beloved country. Such a people can always be trusted to right all wrongs in a peaceable and intelligent man- ner. And not only for national but for individual happiness is a good education necessary. A well educated man, when compared with one who is illiterate, shows nearly the same contrast which exists between a blind man and one who can see. It affords pleasures which wealth connot procure and which misfortune cannot wholly take away.

Such a gathering as this carries us back to our boyhood, and makes us young again, and if we have all left our mir- rors at home, we can carry out the delusion ; and this brings to mind an extract from Holmes' poem entitled, "The Boys."

" Yes, we're boys-always playing with tongue or with pen, And I sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men ? Shall we always be youthful, and laughing and gay, Till the last dear companion drops smiling away ?

" Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray ; The stars of its winter, the dews of its May. And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, Dear Father, take care of thy children-The Boys."

LETTER FROM DR. G. W. KEITH.

STOUGHTON, MASS., September 19, 1887.

Gentlemen of the Committee :

I know something about our public schools-and so do you all. Now, I do not propose to get off a long rigmarole about the genesis and ethics of the public school system, for you are generally as intelligent upon that phase of the institu- tion as I am, and occasionally a little more so; but will give a few of the sweet slippery and sticky reminiscences of my school-boy days-especially the stick-y. When I first began to yearn for an education I lived in "Varmount," and was four years of age. My parents told me I was not old enough to go to school ; but I knew better; and so, like Mary's little lamb, I followed my sisters to school one day, and was uncomfortably seated upon the low seat, and there I sat - the longest hour I had ever known-feeling all the time like the disobedient cock down in the well, who "ne'er had been in this condition, but for my mother's prohibition!" Before the time came for the boys' recess, I had resolved, as soon as I was out, to play the role of Prodigal Son, and return home. I knew two of the boys - Ike Kingsbury, a little rusty, scrawny chap, in nankeen breeches and dirty white jacket, with bare feet and sore toes, and Gabriel, not the original, but Gabriel Doaney, a tall, round-shouldered French boy, whose complexion closely resembled the inside of mouldy hemlock bark; and these two I tried to persuade to run away, but

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they were loyal and would not go, and when the raps came on the window-sash, the good boys went in and I ran for home, keeping an eye over my shoulder to see if I was not being pursued by the teacher - not being able to understand that my room would be better than my company.

I did not go to school again for two years, and then I was sent. I walked a mile and a half, and stood in the dignified presence of the teacher, Madam Wood, matriculated - that is, told her my name, and saw her write it down in a little green-covered book-and commenced storing my mind with the lore of the public school, and with school-boy tricks - especially the latter. Before the first term ended I had learned to read in the "Easy Lessons," to spell words of two syllables, to chew gum, whisper, throw paper wads, spill my ink, tread on the next boy's toes, make the girls giggle by facial contortions, "sass" the teacher, fight with the boys, throw stones through the window, and run away at intermission to attend "training" at Keene. I had been kept after school, had held down a nail, toed the mark for an hour with my hands behind me, had been sent home (though I never went more than half way), had had my ears boxed and pulled, had been gently swayed to and fro by my foretop (which undoubtedly caused the premature barefootedness on top of my head), and walloped with a birch stick. I remember the evening after the last men- tioned performance asking my mother if our school was a publick school, and remarking that I had no fault to find with the pub of it, but the lick was not agree- able.

In eighteen hundred and forty-three - the first year the Millerites didn't go up -our winter school was opened by a young man from Gilsum-a handsome man he was, possessed of a fine intellect, remarkably cultured for one of his age and oppor- tunities. His kindly deportment and happy, genial spirit gave new life to us all, and made the dingy walls of the old school-room look brighter than they had ever looked. For three days every thing was delightful. Nothing Was said about rules and regulations, and we were having a glorious picnic with never a frown from, the pleasant student-looking master. But lo! what a change came over that " schoolery " on the morning of the fourth day ! The pedagogue appeared before us looking like another man. His glossy black locks had been clipped, he had put on a stiff standing collar, a long grey coat, and heavy boots. School was called to order, and the master said he had a few words to say, a few rules to give, which he proceeded to lay down with a grace and emphasis that made a lasting impression upon my mind, at least, concluding with this quotation from the Bible: "So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." From that hour we were all on our good behavior while the term lasted. The first thing I did after this unexpected morning lesson was to erase from my slate the picture I had drawn of the master the day before, and also the first stanza of my first poem, which poem I never finished. The muses had left me; things looked prosy. Likewise my aspiration to become the portrait painter of my mas- ter had gone from me forever. But that incipient manifestation of my poetical genius haunts me still. Here it is !

Boys and girls, hooray ! hooray ! For Calvin May. Let us play 'Most all day. Hooray ! hooray ! For good Cal. May !

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Never was there a happier school than this, or a more studious. But to me, the best part of it all was the two weeks the master boarded at our house, and the saddest of all was examination day. I shall never forget the last hour of that day -how we gathered 'round the old log-fire to receive our little presents and lis- ten to the tender parting words of the man who had endeared himself to us all. None of my school-days were ever so full of interest and happiness, and of so much use, except the short term taught by the same peerless teacher and noble man at District No. 3, in Sullivan, eight years afterward.

Thus endeth my first chapter on public schools. There are several more to come. The second will be read at the next Sullivan Centennial, by one of the Old Boys.

GEORGE W. KEITH.

EIGHTH SENTIMENT:

OUR SOLDIERS- In the spirit of a manly patriotism, they left their homes, in the flush of youth, to defend their native land. Sullivan has had no sons whose deeds will be more worthy of everlasting gratitude and remembrance.

The first response to this sentiment was a poem by Dauphin W. Wilson, Esq., now of Keene, but who lived until within a few years in Sullivan. At Mr. Wilson's request the poem was read by the orator of the day.

POEM BY DAUPHIN W. WILSON, ESQ.

To the Sullivan Soldiers who Fought for the Union in the Great Rebellion.

They heard their country calling Upon her sons for aid : With patriotic fervor, They cheerfully obeyed.

They left their friends behind them- Their homes where they were born; Where passed their early childhood, Their youth's bright, happy morn.

With more than Spartan valor, Without the Spartan's shield, They fought the haughty Southron On many a battle-field.

From bursting shells around them, The rifle's deadly aim, The flashing steel of horsemen, No fear unto them came.

Where balls flew swift and thickest, They stood in firm array ; Where steel met steel the fiercest, They onward forced their way.

The old flag waved above them, With all its stripes and stars ; Down went the traitors' banner, With all its stars and bars.

Out in yonder graveyard Our patriot sons now sleep, And loved ones, for them mourning, The tears of sorrow weep.

Some in foul rebel prisons, No friends their beds beside Were starved by cruel traitors, And pined away and died.

Some, on the field of battle, Their comrades laid to rest ; No hands of loving mothers Place flowers above their breast.

No substitutes were sought for : They heard their country's call ; And faithful to their duty, They offered life - their all.

They fought for right and freedom, And not for wordly fame. No stain 's on their escutcheon; Each left an honored name.

Their memories we'll cherish With gratitude and love; We'll meet again our lost ones, In peaceful rest above.

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Dr. Albert H. Taft, a good soldier, whose brother is an active and respected citizen of East Sullivan, was next intro- duced to the audience as one who was well acquainted with many of the Sullivan soldiers. He now resides in Winches- ter.

ADDRESS OF DR. ALBERT H. TAFT.

MR. PRESIDENT, LADIES, AND GENTLEMEN-Justice cannot be done to a sentiment like this in a few moments. Our Soldiers : The phraseology pleases me. Those who are commemorated by this sentiment, were indeed your citizens-your sons, your husbands, your brothers, and indeed your fathers. They were exclusively your soldiers. And yet, the whole country claims them ; a united country claims them; true citizenship claims them; the lovers of justice, freedom, and equal rights claim them, and will continue to claim them so long as human wrongs exist which noble and patriotic men are needed to correct. It is indeed to the efforts of patriotic men that we are indebted for our freedom in the first place, and for preserving the union and extending real freedom to all men in our last struggle. Honor your soldiers. " In the spirit of a manly patriotism, they left their homes, in the flush of youth, to defend their native land." I like that sentiment. It is true.

Let their names be heard to-day, this Centennial day. A list of their names has been handed to me. It is designed to include the names not only of those who enlisted from Sullivan, but who had lived here within a few years preced- ing the war and were dear to the hearts of Sullivan friends. The list is perhaps incomplete. It was necessarily prepared without the opportunity of a thorough research, but it must be very nearly, if not quite, complete. The word, "killed," has been placed opposite the names of those who were killed in the service. The word, "died," is placed opposite the names of those who died while in the army, and the word, " dead," opposite the name of one who died since the war. Let me call this roll :-

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BLACK, SILAS L., died,

PRECKLE, WM. H., wounded,

BREED, GERMAN N., died,

RUGG, ANDREW J., died,

ESTEY, LYMAN E.,

RUGG, GARDNER II., dead,

FROST, EDWIN B., killed,

RUGG, HORACE K.,

SPAULDING, DAUPHIN, 2d, died,

SPAULDING, HENRY D., died,

HUSSEY, BACHELOR,

MACDONALD, P. HENRY, killed,

MASON, ALBERT,

SPAULDING, ORLAND K., died, TOWNE, HOSEA,

MASON, JAMES B., lost an arm,

WARDWELL, GEO. OSGOOD,

MASON, R. OSGOOD,

NIMS, EDWIN T., died,

WILSON, BRAMAN I., died, WILSON, CHARLES C., killed.

The name of one man not properly a resident of Sulli- van, who is assigned to this town, who was a deserter, is not included in the list. The list which I have read is an honor- able and an honored list of names. The bodies of those who died are mostly in this town ; but one lies at Natchez, one on the second Bull Run battle-field, and one under the monu- ment in the National Cemetery at Winchester, Va. When I was in the latter place, I went over this burial ground. Several soldiers from this vicinity were buried there. Their friends may be assured that their graves will be cared for as respectfully as if buried in their own state. The Decoration Day is observed there as here. Your own soldier who was buried there was my own friend, Charlie Wilson. I also knew his sister, Abbie. As I was passing under a weeping willow, the thought came to me to take a sprig to her. I broke off a sprig, but I afterwards learned of her death. The father of that family is the only member of it, as it was in Sullivan, who is now living.

We can never forget those dear fellows; those who fell in battle ; those who died in the dreary hospitals, or perhaps in some log shanty or in the open air, or those who died in the terrible prisons. The conflict is long since over and the hardships of war added to the hardships of life are fast wear- ing our brethern out before their time. The few of us who re- main will continue to close up our weakening ranks, shoulder to shoulder ; heart to heart. Sullivan has had no sons whose deeds will be more worthy of your everlasting gratitude and remembrance.

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A history of the town of Sullivan, New Hampshire, 1777-1917, Volume I, Part 7

Author: Seward, Josiah Lafayette, 1845-1917 Publication date: 1921 Publisher: [Keene, N.H., Sentinel printing Co.] Number of Pages: 888

Author: Seward, Josiah Lafayette, 1845-1917
Publication date: 1921
Publisher: [Keene, N.H., Sentinel printing Co.]
Number of Pages: 888