Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1908-02-05
WHEN WE SPELLED DOWN


Fashions revolve in cycles. The hats
of the bellies of 1900 come back after
their wearers have long been dust, to
adorn the fresh beauty Of today. So
whirls the world.
Reports Of spelling contests, just now
popular in many Iowa counties, do not
fai to stir recollection of the old-time
spelling school, the real kind we
knew almost lifetime ago. the con-
temporary of the debate" that later
took on airs and became literary"
Doesn't it stir your old blood when
You remember the spelling school?
There were schoolmasters in those
days as there had been giants in ear
lier days. Spelling and arithmetic and
reading aloud were standard accom-
plishments. You remember how you
lugged kerosene lamp mile or more
to the old red schoolhouse of Friday
night? Some of us older ones recol-
lect when tallow candles stuck in
tin sconce before tin reflector on the
side walls shed a dim religious light
upon the scene. Later we aspired to
lamps
Here they came, the elders sedate,
tie "fellers and their girls tlirta-
ciously, and the rabble of school boys
bosterous and noisy, the school girls
slipping in demurely bright beneath
their knitted hoods. Delegations of
crack spoilers came from the Cross
Roads "deestrict," from Barclay Cor
ners and the surrounding schools, and
they were out for blood
The busting and whispering and
fell when the teacher rose Two cap
tains were selected The teacher eput
his finger we'll into the center of the
spelling book. and the captains
guessed on the page. The winner had
first choice.
Then came struggle. Should he
choose his girl" and thus have her by
his side, or should he do his duty?
Duty won usually. He chose notable
speller. Choice followed choice. The
lines heightened against either wall
Rather be excused" replies motor
tously poor speller. He is shouted
down, and drags himself shamefacedly
and reluctantly into the line. Mum
her," commands the teacher, and the
lines count off. He squares himself to
his task Biscuit" is pronounced,
"B-u-i-s, bis, c-u-i-t, kit, biscuit"
flashes back, and the contest is on.
One after one they go down.
"Haulm" floored a halfdozen. anil"
an indigo dye, opened great gaps in the
ranks on either side. The lines close
and shorten until a scant half dozen
are left. The fray is fierce We have
come to such words as "syzygy." One
by one they fall on the breastworks, as
it were, until the battle has resolved
itself into duel. Polysyllabic words
meet and cross like bombshells. Short,
sharp deceptive words intersperse like
musketry fire. Page after page is
turned and exhausted. Parallel"
Alas and alackaday, the champion of
the schools has mixed the "ls.'' His
opponent from the Cross Roads
pounces upon the word as a lion might
leap at sheepfold; "P-a-r-a-ll-e-l,
parallel" snaps from between her lips
like Maxim at full speed. A long sigh
Sits thru the room. Mary Thompson
from the Cross Roads has spelled
down the champion. And it takes ten
minutes of the fiercest kind of pro
nouncing' to spell her down at all.
Fifteen minutes for recess. Out we
troop. "Mebbe you Cross Readers
have got somebody that can rassle
sideholt" They had, and put him forth
with confidence born of trial, and hope
the child Of the late Cross Roads VIC
tory.
Frozen ground was good enough for
either champion. Coats came off and
the contestants set inside a ring of
boys ready to defend all rights and
enforce all acknowledged rules by the
stern arbitrament of war. The wrest
lers writhed and strained "Hiplock."
drop" and grapevine followed in