The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1886-04-08
THE OLD scnooL-mAsrER.


A quaint old chap, full of Greek roots
and Latin verbs. Rumor had it that he
was the author of a text book which was
used in the preparatory schools. Ii he
was, authorship in his case was not a
financial success; for cannot remember
of ever seeing him in any other than a
seedy, thread-bare suit of black. The
pants bagged at the knees, and the coat
fulled at the small of the back. The
vest was buttonless for three stations up
from the bottom and was crossed over
the bosom. Men who made a practice of
patronizing the fashionable literature of
the day said he was savant. But he
wasn't. He was just plain, unfortu-
nate man, sent into the rural parts to
teach the young idea how to sprout.
The young idea has been sprouting from
Adam up, with different degrees of sue
cess. If it happens to have a leaning
toward the prescribed channels, its
growth is painfully rapid. If, however,
It leans towards the other channel it will
in time assume the grand appearance of
tree. l say appearance, because many
oaks of majestic magnitude have rotten
hearts, although a green ivy entwines
around their rough old trunks and green
acorns grow among the boughs. The
old schoolmaster has, of course, figured
more or less prominently in the current
literature of the day. It is about time
that he received some attention, for too
long has he been but an item of dust
laden curiosity laid away among the
diversified archives of a growing republic.
love the old style school-master for the
faults he never had. Some men cling
to a man because of the enemies he has
made. The old school-master had no
enemies; for he was as gentle and unas-
suming as a child, as pure as God makes
men, and a genuine personification OF
the genus homo without the attendant
qualities of sin and petty littleness. /
presume gave the smart old man as
much reason as any of his pets for dis
believing in the future regeneration of
Young America. But my faults were all
rendered unconsciously. If l had it to
do over again, know would strew his
path with roses instead of lamentations
and words of advice in my behalf. But
it's too late now; and chill grave-stone
under the stars where the rays of the
moonlight play hide and seek among
the bare branches of the battle-ground
that comes, as of old, proverbially, too
late.
From his scant store of worldly goods
he gave me much. From the grand
array of his noble learning, /, with the
others, scorned to take that which was
laid out before us. l gave him many
moments of sore distress. After school
hours he held me by the hand, and in
eloquent words he tearfully told me of
the mistakes. l knew all about life
then. / didn't propose to have an at
tenuated old fossil of humanity lay out
the path was to travel. 1t was my
mistake and he knew it. I was pig
headed, and 1 lost the golden chances
he tossed down before me. Casting
Jewels before the swine fitted my case
precisely. If he would come back to-day
/ would listen to his low, sweet tones of
advice. But he stays there under the
grave-stone; and l only see the queer
shapes of the trees branches distortin g
in the moonlight upon his grave, where
a million crystalized lights reflect the
glitter of the midnight stars. He dis
closed the wonderful wealth of his store
and then he left me. If had been
wise would have plunged both hands,
soul and body into the wondrous az
ray. But l wasn't wise. was block
headed, as were others. Time enough
for wisdom after the worlds pleasures
grow vapid and unsatisfactory. They
grow vapid rapidly They We're unsatis-
factory after plucked. Then, with the
dry shucks of vanished pleasures in my
bosom, went back to the place where
the old school-master was once. And
tonight. after all these years of sorrow
and bliss-false bliss-I find the dearest
friend of my youth sleeping under the
frost of winters night. Dead!-H. S.
KeLLGr. in Bowe7l s B5IGIqet.