Note: Only pages 14-26 of Leonard Scott's book are transcribed below. These are the sections pertaining to Master Brown's school, which Rhoda Smith and William Towers Sharman attended.
Source: Scott, Leonard. Early Reminiscences : A Poem, Descriptive of Country Life in the Province of New Brunswick Forty Years Ago. New York : Leonard Scott & Co., c1864.
(A copy of the original 50-page book is in the Hyslop Collection at the St. Croix Public Library in St. Stephen, N.B.
Thanks to Steve Robbins...
From the dedication page:
"To the Hon. James Brown, late Surveyor-General of the Province
of New Brunswick, to whom the author is indebted for his early
education, and for whom he still cherishes the most sincere feelings
of gratitude and friendship, this little poem is affectionately
inscribed."
Preface.
The scenes and incidents described in the following verses are taken from actual life, rarely any deviation being made from the facts as they existed or occurred in the places and among the personages mentioned. The home of the writer's family was in the Parish of St. David, Province of New Brunswick, a few miles distant from the St. Croix or Schooduc river, which separates that Province from the State of Maine; and it is worthy of remark, that of the members of that family -- there were thirteen of them -- who for nearly forty years resided at that home or in its immediate vicinity, not one, nor even the descendant of one, now remains within the Province. A few died in their native land, but most of them crossed the border; and they and their descendants have so scattered themselves over the United States, that there are but few of the Free States in which they are not now to be found."
One of the most interesting sections, for family historians, is the one describing the school at the top of "Eliphalet's Hill", which must have been somewhere in the Tower Hill area. I recognize some of my relatives who are mentioned: the sisters Thankful Smith (b. abt. 1810), Rhoda Smith (b. abt. 1805), Jane Smith (b. abt. 1816) and Louisa Smith; the siblings Walter Towers "the pugilist" (b.1801), Edward Towers (b.1798), Miles Towers (b.1795), and Jeannie Towers; Valentine Sharman (b. abt. 1805) and his cousins Harris Sharman (b.1806), Anna Sharman (b.1802), Cyrene ("Serene") Sharman (b.1809) and Will Sharman (b.1811); "laughing" Joe Connick (b. abt. 1796).
Note that the author, Leonard Scott, was born in 1810 and died in 1895. He would have likely attended the school about 1815-1825. Thus, date-wise, several of the "scholars" named by Scott seem too old to have attended at the same time as he; nevertheless, he mentions them: Edward Towers, Miles Towers, and Joe Connick.
[p. 14-18:] "DANGEROUS SPORTS AND SCHOOL-DAY EXPERIENCES."
[p. 14]
And do you remember what good times you had
In hunting up subjects for fun,
In climbing up trees, at the risk of your head,
Or shinning them down on the run?
[here in the book is a woodcut of a barn with a child standing on the top of its roof]
How you scaled the steep roof of the lofty old barn
To get a grand look at the sea,
And cared not a fig for the clothes you had torn,
But shouted with infinite glee.
And your teeter so grand on the old well-sweep,
Which proved to be not very sound,
For when to the end you had managed to creep
It broke--and you fell to the ground!
[p. 15. Here in the book is a woodcut of two children playing
at a well-sweep]
You'll remember the day that we first went to school--
The scene is before me e'en now--
When the master laid down his imperative rule
As to making our entrance bow.
And how into classes, according to age,
And the studies they had to pursue,
He divided his scholars--to each gave a page,
And directed what each had to do.
When organized thus, to their places assigned,
And commanded to study aloud--
Ye gods! the vile music street-organists grind,
Or the thunder from out of a cloud,
Were soft and seraphic compared to the noise
That alarmingly broke on our ears--
The scream of the girls and the shout of the boys,
All tending to quicken our fears.
But in time we got used to these terrible sounds,
That they were such became quite insensible,
And when they were kept within moderate bounds,
We found them almost indispensable.
The master, amid all the din and discord,
A survey of his scholars would take--
He somehow appeared to hear every word
And was quick to detect a mistake.
[p. 16]
And do you remember the books that we used--
To reckon their number were easy--
And the master's fierce frown when the leaves got abused,
Or the covers disfigured and greasy?
There was "Webster," on which we were first taught
to spell,
When we'd once of our "abs" got the better,
In which we learned also to read very well,
Not having to spell out each letter.
In that famous old book some good stories were told
Called fables--their number was eight--
Of the rude wicked boy who for impudence bold
Was brought from his lofty estate;
Of the country milk-maid, who with toss of her head
Put on airs unbecoming her station,
And upsetting her pail, the poor silly female
Lost the bliss of her fancy's creation.
And the treach'rous alliance between the two friends,
Who, while walking, encountered a bear,
Whose whispering counsel made ample amends
To the man that with tact so rare
Pretended to Bruin he surely was dead,
As the bear very plainly could see,
While his coward companion inglorious fled
To the top of a neighboring tree.
And Reynard, the fox, who got into a scrape
In the course of his sly stealthy rambles,
Yet thought himself safer in tail and in nape
Than if helped to escape from the brambles.
And the cunning device of the hungry cat,
So skilled in deception and fraud,
Who made so much havoc with mouse and with rat,
That none dared to venture abroad.
The plan of suspending herself by the tail
Proved to Puss a most capital hit,
But the trick of the meal-tub was destined to fail,
For the bait wouldn't take [illegible word(s) due to smudge]
bit.
A rat of experience gave his advice,
And said in the meal he could smell
A something that neither by rats nor by mice,
He was sure, would be relished so well.
[p. 17]
And the terrible fate that befel [sic] poor dog Tray
For choosing a mastiff as friend,
Who attacked every cur that he met on the way,
In a manner quite sure to offend.
And the case of the ox that was gored by the bull,
And the logic the farmer applied
To the lawyer--who though he had laid down a rule,
By the same now refused to abide.
These tales we enjoyed with infinite zest,
But their "morals" we voted a bore,
Regarding them only as being a test
Of our patience in reading them o'er.
It is now thirty years since the book I have seen
Which contained these remarkable treasures,
But its stories are yet in my memory green,
And are still not the least of my pleasures.
As companion to this we'd a book that defined
Each word, after once it was spelled,
And as the school boasted but two of this kind,
These were in high estimation were held.
"Guy's New British Spelling Book" followed in course,
From its pages much knowledge we gained,
But it never afforded that ready resource
To be found in the two I have named.
And the old "English Reader," the pride of the school,
With selections from writers of fame,
Where on every page was a precept or rule,
And where naught was insipid or tame.
There were pieces "pathetic" and pieces "didactic,"
And pieces in verse and in prose,
There were some "dialectic," and others "dramatic"--
All good as the reader well knows.
And the "Sequel," too, with the old "Introduction,"
"Scott's Lessons" a grade somewhat higher,
The bulky "Preceptor" replete with instruction
And tales that seemed never to tire.
And "Morse's Geography," giving the clue
To countries, and cities, and towns,
Their statistics, and so forth, in numbers not few,
Their size, their location, and bounds.
[p. 18]
And "Dabol's Arithmetic" closing the list,
Whose pages possessed few attractions,
Where we cudgelled our brains till they got in a twist
In our struggles with figures and fractions.
[p. 18-21:] "NAMES AND CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SCHOLARS."
And do you remember the scholars by name
Who culled from these books so much knowledge,
Some of whom have acquired as enduring a fame
As if taught in a high-school or college?
There were Albert and Edwin, our rivals in study,
With whom we strove hard to keep pace;
And there was Jim Davis, with brains rather muddy
And good-natured meaningless face.
And Hannah, and Cynthia, and Lydia, so fair,
Most diligent scholars all three,
And Jerry, and Joel, with talents so rare
Their equals you seldom would see.
And Mark, who cared less for his book and his school
Than he did for his dog and his gun,
And Ansley, deliberate, thoughtful, and cool,
Yet still always ready for fun.
And Louisa Smith, and her namesake as well,
And Thankful, and Rhoda, and Jane,
The McLaughlens who aided our numbers to swell,
Though failing high honors to gain.
And Hannah, and Jane, and Mariner Shaw --
The latter the butt of the school --
But who, though ungainly, and awkward and raw,
Was counted by no means a fool.
And Harris, and Daniel, at school now and then,
Their duties at home interfering,
Which made them less ready with pencil and pen
Than with chopping, and fencing, and clearing.
And Walter the pugilist -- Edward and Miles,
And Jeannie, their keen, black-eyed sister,
Whose bright, sunny face -- all dimples and smiles --
Played the deuce with the fellows who kissed her.
[p. 19]
And noisy Jim Collins, and Davis and John,
Tryphenia with white flaxen hair,
And Betsy, whom Mark set his young heart upon
But only to fall in a snare;
For tall Moses Reed -- his rival and friend --
Walked straight into Betsy's affections,
Nor deigned to give Mark the accustomed amende [sic]
Or to heed his protests and objections.
And Abigail Collins and queer little Dan,
And Joseph and dark Jacob Reed,
And Valentine Sharman and lubberly Sam,
Less fond of his book than his feed.
And Sarah, and Susan, and Hannah, and Steve,
Young Allen McDougal, and Sandy,
From whom 'twas my fate sundry knocks to receive,
By no means so pleasant as handy.
And the Sharmans who came from below Tower Hill --
Rough Harris, dark Ann, and Serene --
And another one still, I believe they called Will,
Whom his school-mates pronounced rather green.
And laughing Joe Connick, and gay 'Liza Moore
And other occasional scholars,
And noisy Frank Foster, and grave Theodore,
More properly classed among callers.
You'll remember the spot where the old school-house stood --
I fancy I see it there still --
Overlooking the meadows, the pasture and wood,
From the top of Eliphalet's Hill.
Though substantial the structure, 'twould fail to command
Much praise from fastidious people,
For its walls were not lofty, its roof was not grand,
And it had neither belfry nor steeple.
Its architect certainly showed his good sense
In placing it close to the ground,
For of foundation pillars it saved the expense,
And it could not be easy blown down.
Its square little windows, which numbered but four,
Served the air and the sunlight to guide,
There was one where the master sat, two by the door
And one on the opposite side.
[p. 20. At top of this page is a woodcut illustration of a
school house]
It was graced by no ornament, slender or stout,
No picture of martyr or saint,
Nay -- in truth, it was guiltless, both inside and out,
Of even the commonest paint.
A thing called a chimney was built at one end,
But it looked quite as much like a tomb,
And up this the smoke was supposed to ascend
But as often came out in the room!
About this same chimney, so ugly and old,
This wonderful structure of stone,
You'll remember a capital story was told
Of Gilliland's leg, which had grown
So tight to the roof where the chimney came through,
He could neither get up nor get down,
Till luckily came to his timely rescue
Jim Davis and good Master Brown.*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[this footnote is placed in the book at the bottom of p. 20]
* This memorable trio were engaged late one afternoon in building
a top to the chimney, and in their haste to complete the job before
dark, Gilliland, who was sitting on the roof with his legs hanging
down through the hole, became so much interested in his work as
to forget himself, and when the chimney was finished he found
he had masoned in his legs so that he could not move till his
comrades rescued him by pulling down the stones he had so industriously
been building up! Gilliland, of course, was the Irishman of the
party.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[p. 21]
By the side of the chimney a square little room
Excluding the light and the noise,
Was used as a place for the poker and broom,
And for turbulent mischievous boys.
The school furniture may be easily named,
Consisting of desks high and low,
And rickety benches most clumsily framed,
Worth little for use or for show.
Despite these hard benches and comfortless desks,
In our studies swift progress we made,
For with diligence most of us stuck to our tasks,
Each striving to get to the head.
[p. 21-24:] "INSPECTION DAY."
You will never forget our Inspection day,
Nor the hopes and the fears it inspired,
Nor our desperate efforts to make a display
Of the learning that each had acquired.
How we studied our lessons till late in the night,
Long after the hour to retire,
Though oftentimes favored with no better light
Than the flickering blaze of the fire.
When the long looked-for day was at length ushered in,
The district was all in commotion,
A mighty upheaving was everywhere seen,
Like the uneasy swell of the ocean.
Anxious mothers flew round with purpose intent
To deck out their darlings in splendor,
Not a garment was used with a patch or a rent
For the boys or the feminine gender.
And then there were presents, or prizes, in view,
For diligent scholars intended,
For all--from the least to the greatest--well knew
Twenty shillings had thus been expended.
There were books of all sorts for boys and for girls,
To amuse, to instruct, and to please,
And jack-knives, and penknives, and pencils and toys--
All to come through the Parish Trustees.
[p. 22]
Now when these Trustees their appearance first made,
'Fore whom we must pass in review,
Over-awed by their presence, our confidence fled,
And vanished the little we knew.
But inspired by the teacher, our courage returned,
And bravely we sprang to our places,
While fired by ambition our youthful hearts burned,
And "Excelsior" was marked in our faces.
Then commenced the fierce struggle to see who would spell,
Till all having missed should sit down,
For to him who thus conquered 'twas known very well
Would come prizes and fame through the town.
You will doubtless be able to call to your mind
The match between Joel and me--
A taller than Joel you scarcely would find,
While I scarcely reached to his knee.
It ill becomes me to record of the two
Which finally got the last word,
But David, you know, great Goliath once slew,
And from this may the fact be inferred.
And then what a shouting and stamping of feet
Shook the walls and the ceilings and floors,
And the boys from the house made a hasty retreat
To give vent to their feelings out-doors.
Jake Reed caught me up in a transport of joy,
And carried me all round the yard,
While my school-mates declared me a brave little boy,
And otherwise showed their regard.
Even Joel himself withheld not his praise,
For though beaten he still felt a pride
That his precocious brother might one of these days
The summit of knowledge bestride!
But a precocious child, as we very well know,
For the fact we've observed more than once,
On arriving at manhood is too apt to grow
To be either a fool or a dunce.
The boys were called in, and a class to define
Was the next ordered up on the floor,
When we formed in a long semi-circular line,
And the contest commenced as before.
[p. 23]
At first all went on doing equally well,
As page after page was gone through;
But before very long it was easy to tell,
As the lessons more difficult grew,
We boys would again have the battle to fight
In a contest between one another;
So it proved--for the rest were at length put to flight,
And brother again strove with brother.
This time there were three of us, Ansley and you,
And I, sure of conquest again,
Alas! rather too sure, for careless I grew
And was soon counted out with the slain.
The struggle went on 'tween the two who remained,
'Midst a tumult of hopes and of fears;
At length the last word by your brother was gained,
Whereupon came a few bitter tears:
I will not say now by whom they were shed,
For the weakness, if weakness it were,
Was instantly lost in the noise that was made
At the close of this brilliant affair.
After this we proceeded some lessons to read,
Which appeared to give good satisfaction;
And as to our figures, the judges agreed
We could work them all out to a fraction.
Next the judges examined the progress we'd made
At writing, in coarse hand and fine;
But at penmanship then, e'en as now, I'm afraid
I never was destined to shine.
In awarding the prizes no favor was shown,
For a plan was so skilfully [sic] laid,
That the writers remained to the judges unknown
Till their judgment was finally made.
But the master's ambition would not rest content
With the common display at Inspections;
So a drama or play he resolved to present,
In a way that should touch the affections.
The amateur play-actors numbered but three,
Himself, Edwin Foster, and I;
The death of Great Caesar the play was to be,
And our best each determined to try.
[p. 24]
Ed. Foster as Brutus appeared on the floor,
While I the lean Cassius portrayed;
The master the part of Marc Antony bore,
And thus was each character played.
The little dark closet already described,
As "green-room" was made to do duty;
There the genius of Shakespeare was highly imbibed
In all its exuberant beauty.
When the play was completed, we brought the house down--
To use a theatrical phrase;
Great applause was bestowed upon Manager Brown,
And on his young actors high praise.
Then arose Squire Moore--took a large pinch of snuff--
And delivered a neat little speech;
He said he had seen quite or more than enough
To prove that our master could teach
The youthful idea to shoot and to grow,
And expand to its broadest dimensions--
Here he ceased--said no farther at this time would go,
For to speaking he made no pretensions.
His friend Andrew Bantin then rose in his place,
And said in deliberate phrase,
He would the occasion with pleasure embrace
To add his unqualified praise.
Thus closed the events of this wonderful day,
And its like once a year was repeated,
When by young and by old, by the grave and the gay,
Its advent was joyfully greeted.
[p. 24-27:] "SCHOOL DISCIPLINE AND OUTDOOR INCIDENTS, INCLUDING A FIGHT."
[This section covers a school discipline problem involving
Valentine Sharman, and a fight between Walter {Towers} and Mark
{ }. There was a Mark Scott who lived in St. David, but I'm
not sure about his dates--SLR.
The schoolmaster, Hon, James Brown, came from Scotland to N.B.
in 1810, and married 13 Oct.1817 Sarah Sharman, daughter of Stephen
& Patience (Grant) Sharman. I think (but am not yet sure)
that Valentine Sharman was probably the son of Elisha Sharman.
Thus the schoolmaster may be an uncle (by marriage) to the rebellious
Valentine Sharman--SLR.]
A feeling remembrance no doubt you will have
Of the ferule, the birch, and the taws,*
Which the master with impartiality gave
To those disobeying his laws.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* A Scottish instrument of punishment composed of leather straps,
somewhat like a cat-o'-nine-tails.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[p. 25]
And you will remember the muss that he had
With Valentine Sharman one day;
How he conquered the will of the obstinate lad
In a rather remarkable way.
Val. refused to obey the master's command
To read, at his turn, in the class,
But stood like a statue, his book in his hand,
Determined his lesson to pass.
Command and persuasion, each failed to produce
The slightest effect on the boy;
When the master, who found these without any use,
Resolved other means to employ.
* * * * * *
[Yes, six asterisks appear here in the book: six applications
of the taws?--SLR]
Discretion at length got the better of will,
And his lesson correctly he read;
But he'd rather have swallowed a picra pill,
As he afterwards many times said.
Such cases as this one not often occurred,
In our otherwise well-ordered school;
For we seldom required but a look or a word
To promptly comply with each rule.
I trust I've not painted these pictures in vain,
That from you they'll obtain recognition;
Will bring to your mind's eye the scenes once again
And the place of our early tuition.
And do you remember the fun that we had
As homeward at night we would go,
How we threw the soft pellets at each other's head,
Or measured our length in the snow?
How we played "knock off hats," and would wrestle
and run,
And shout till our throats were in danger;
Yet never forgot, when we chanced to meet one,
To make our best bow to a stranger?
How we played on the hill, in Eliphalet's lot,
At the game of the bat and the ball;
And many a battle in mimicry fought,
Getting many a tumble and fall?
[p. 26]
'Twas here, too, that Walter and Mark had a fight,
A genuine knock-down affair;
As each 'gainst the other had cherished a spite,
And determined to settle it there.
Mark walked slowly out, threw his hat on the ground,
And began to unbutton his coat;
Thus challenged, brave Walter sprang out with a bound
And bared both his arms and his throat.
A few sturdy blows passed between them, and one
Mark planted beneath Walter's eye;
A Knight of the Ring would say "handsomely done,"
And doubtless it made the fire fly.
I do not intend to describe the affray,
'Twould afford you less pleasure than pain;
But Walter acknowledged the loss of the day,
Yet swore he would try it again.
You'll remember that after some months had passed by,
They met and again tried their strength;
That Walter this time gave to Mark the black eye,
While Mark laid his foe at full length.
This battle was no "rough and tumble" affair
Like the one they engaged in before--
Which was more like the fight of the wolf and the bear,
Or the tiger with savage wild boar.
They fought now by rules that were deemed scientific--
O'er a pole--standing up face to face;
The blows they inflicted were truly terrific,
But the seconds made each keep his place.
They fought long and bravely, though how many rounds
My memory fails me to tell;
But after each getting a number of wounds,
They concluded to stop for a spell.
This gave to the friends and the seconds a chance
To urge that the battle should cease;
A suggestion 'twas easy to see at a glance
Would result in effecting a peace.
For they'd fought long enough no longer to doubt
That each equal prowess possessed;
And as this was the most they'd been fighting about,
They agreed that the matter should rest.
[p.27]
The quarrels of youth are not often long-lived,
So it proved with the one of that day,
For being thus ended 'twas never revived,
Time wearing it quickly away.
We look back with wonder at this distant day,
That such fighting was ever in fashion;
And rejoice that the practice has gone to decay,
That we're not so much guided by passion;
That courage--true courage--is oftenest shown
In the use of a little good sense,
When we frankly confess to a fault of our own,
And are slow to resent an offence [sic].