Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1878-03-09

Old Field Teacher
Among the many things laid low
since the course of empire took its
westward way is the old field school
house. Hugh Miller, in his autobi-
Ography, "My Schools and School
masters" gives a pleasant picture of
the quaint old school house, with
the smoke curling over the low roof
and losing itself in the mist of the
mountain and of the ancient dame
who taught him A B C. But Scot
land has no monopoly in memory
of "sic houses" it is likewise an
American institution, and in it's de-
cay dear to the hearts of the girls
and boys of
Twenty years ago, John,
When you and were young
According to the flesh we may
not sigh for the touch of a vanished
hand, but the most prosaic will
sometimes sing
81 would I were boy again.''
The old master, like the tabled
Tithonus, was granted immortal
ity, but youth was not in the gift.
We discern age and decrepitude.
His hair has grown white, and his
voice feeble. Its pipings are heard
only in the quiet evening, when
children's children are gathered
around the freside. He is the last
of a noble line, or shall l say the
first of a noble line? His reign is
over, and he must now appear in
the role of the dethroned Roman
who frequented the forum, but had
no voice in its proclamations. His
was not the Augustan age Of teach
ing. His sons in the succession have
greatly improved the methods of
teaching, but for adopts in spelling
commend me to a class under the
old regime. They knew nothing of
the philosophy of phonetics, but ev-
cry one could spell ''phthysic," and
beat the best boy in college on
"bonny clabber.' They were SUI
premeIy ignorant, as was the mas
ter, of object teaching, but each
scholar (they were all scholars in
those days. understood the object IN
teaching. Mental gymnastics was
not taught under that scientific ex-
preston, nor were the novels eX-
ploded by rule, yet / think some
thing was accomplished in these
departments. The master had
way of making indelible impress
sions without asking the mother
which beat the best patent fluid in
a modern school room! You seldom
heard any talk of brain food, and /
doubt whether the gentle squire
would have taken teacher to his
trencher who seriously studied the
comparative value of fish, eggs and
oatmeal as brain nOurishment. An
| early breakfast, a walk of two or
three miles, with four or five hours
of loud study, and the demands of
appetite were so keen that no one
devoted a thought to the normal
| condition of the brain. My only
mOurnful memory of the place is of
the timid child whom the noise
scared, and to this day l try to shut
out the sound of the big boys study
ing and saying their lessons. My
housekeeping has never been con-
Quoted on so perfect plan as in the
old play house, where company
came and went just as you wished,
and dumb walters did duty through
the entire establishment,
and the woods were geopled, and the air
! With things so lovely!"
Alas! such sweet imaginings are
scattered afar. The old master has
been dead many years. The grass
grows rank upon his grave. The
scholars are scattered, and the dust
of years has gathered upon the old
house. The spot seems sacred to
the genius of desOlation. l passed
it on a May morning some years
since. The door was aiar, but "the
stick was not on the peg" The boy
who took it down had gone too far
for the masters voice to call him to
books. | sat on the steps and cried,
for the place was mine of mem
cries. A mouse crept from the cor
ner and glanced furtively around, as
If in search of the long row of bas-
kets that used to grace the wall
A broken blackboard still stood
and, scrubbed on a scrap of slate
this sentence: "Time and tide wait
for no man." Where were the little
brown hands whose clumsy efforts
at tracing those words had called
forth the sharp rebuke? White and
resting now beside the teacher. A
chip lay on the floor. Was it the
one we threw up on the Friday sc
long ago for the big battle in spell
ing? The boy who won died in
prison far from the haunts of his
childhood. Between the planks were
bits of paper, perchance leaves O
the blue-back spelling-bOOk, which
a bright boy would tear out as fast
as he turned them over, "becaust
there was no use in being bothered
to keep the place on both sides wheT
he had learned what was on the
other" The chunks of backlog lay
in the capacious fireplace. The rud
dy glow was all gone, nor did the
dead "ashes keep alive a spark fol
the morning fire. With ashes upor
head and heart / turned from the
sad scene.
1t has been truthfully said that 6
monument in ruins is more beauti
full than one freshly built. l hal
every advance in the art of teaching
but the old field school house was
the temple of science in that golden
age which comes but once. Never
for us will the flowers bloom, the
fruits ripen, the birds sing, the
waters murmur as in that wOndrOu:
time. When we are young we fOndly
dream that the Fortunate Islands
lie in the Sea of Hope; when we are
old we know that they sweetly smile
upon us in the Waters of Memory
Mrs. SUE F. MOONEY.
-~@$--
The Gold Mines OF the South.