The Mt. Sterling advocate. (Mt. Sterling, Ky.) 1890-current, 1912-03-06
THE OLD SCHOOLHOUSt.

|
Upon the hillside there ii stood,
A door in either end of it,
And mem'ries of my lost childhood
Forever round about it fit.
IT'S more than fifty years land yet
it seems but yesterday since
And others in it's portals met,
Or out upon the playground, nigh,
A hasty game of ball TO play
Ere 'books" were called; and can still
Recall the pranks of George, and Clay
| Worse never lived, and never willy,
Neither of whom was ever known
| To have a lesson, or ego head",
Save when the "word" was slyly shown,
Or whispered to them, it was said.
A worthy second to this pair
(For ''devilment" and standing FOOT
was one with tawny, touseled hair,
And propensity to shoot
Small pebbles at the teachers back,
And oft that terror's occiput
Received from one singing whack,
Aud then, Oh, how we pitied "Tut"l
Alas! tina; schoolhouse is no more,
And thev who taught in it are gone,
And now await us on that shore
To'rd which we are all hast ming on.
And, Oh! what havoc Death has wrought,
And. Oh! what changes Time has made,
Since they within its portals taught,
And we beneath its gables played!
For truly we were less concerned
About our lessons than our play,
And scarce remembered what we'd
learned
Beyond the shadows of the day.
To other changes it were vain
To call attention, it may be;
And yet it seems can't refrain,
These things so sorely sadden me.
The glory of the hills is gone;
They stand denuded, and forlorn.
Where one still has its vesture on,
Behold how frayed it is, and torn!
The river-road's been changed, and now,
Where then it wound its sinuous way,
Meath birch, and beech, and maple
bough,
Strange people sow and reap today.
The old mill-dam and water-mill
Have likewise long since passed away,
Yet from my mind l draw, at will,
Pictures o'them, and the To-Day.
| Even the river restless grew,
And moved its channel, bit by bit,
And now meanders onward through
The one some wild tide cut for it.
The Peddler's grave alone remains
Intact, and as it was of yore.
1 wonder how it still retains
The shape in olden times it bore2
Have friendly hands, by pity led,
Renewed the sod, from year to year,
Above this friendless. unknown dead,
Who sleeps, remote from kindred, here?
All, WE'LL maybe some good result
Came from the changes Time achieved,
And if so be, should exult
With you, instead of feeling grieved.
But, Oh! how hard It's to concede
To cruel Time, and fell Progress
The things on which our mem'ries feed,
Knowing they leave us no redress
No chance, in after years, to feast
Our eyes on scenes our childhood knew,
OF whose sweet pleasure, not the least
Comes always from some scene of rue.
The threats of the Ulster Union
list that they will not accept home
rule and that in event of a home
rule bill being enacted by parlia-
ment they will set up govern
ment separate from the rest of Ire
land must not be taken too seri-
ously. 1t probably is nothing
more than a political bluff, as also
is the story of the drilling of
troops. Anyway, the Unionists
are misnamed and inconsistent in
their hostility 20 home rule and
their denunciation of home rulers
as rebels, if they intend them
selves to rebel.