Norwich bulletin., 1917-07-25
MEMORIES OF A STRANGE
 AND WEIRD BOYHOOD
Edward F. BiseIow Tells of His Early
 Life in MontviIfe.

or strange, weird and SOmewha { picturesque boyhoood. The. story is called Prize Fighting and the Sew ing Machine, and it appeared in. a New York magazine. A synopsis of the story follows:
 That occupation and that article of household furniture would seem to have little in common, and neither would seem to have the slightest
 latfon to school-teaching. But in my hrst experience along pedagogical lines l found them intimately asso- ciated and of practical value in mak- Ing successful my first school year. l inherited a strong physique and six feet one inch of height from my
 grandfather-"the giant of New Eng land" My mother died when I was
 very young. I had no boy playmates. My grandmother thought a boy should
 be trained like girl. My only out door companion was half crazy Bill"
 retired sailor and prize fighter, who
 thought that a boy should not only
 be trained in hunting, fishing and trapping, but in the manly art" of self defence.
 Within doors I was taught to cook and to do all sorts of fancy work including crocheting. knitting and that peculiarly beautiful form of lace work known as tatting. This I made with my own shuttle of which I was especially fond A few years later I became ambitious to own a sewing machine and my taste for fanciful things led me to covet all the ma
 chimes fancy attachments.
 One day while visiting a country fair I met my hero. He became my ideal. He was the advertising exhi- bitor of the old Weed sewing ma chine and never have I seen an ex- hibition of skill that so inspired me. My ina gination was fired by the way in which that man could make that sewing ma chine travel on a straight forward home run, and by bobbing around with a handy little screw driv- CT and making a few changes could slip on a side issue of steel and bra ss and gather astonishing puffs tucks and ruff1es. In my estimation he was the most talented man that had thus far met. For days I dreamed of him
 and his almost super-human accom- plishments- I saved every cent that
 earned; I begged and borrowed from
 from my grandmother who was de-
 lighted with my sewing machine ann
 bition.
 Within two months I had exhaust
 cd every possibility within the com
 pass of that machine, and three
 months practice made me an expert
 took in sewing from the neighbors
 set snares. caught cartridges, shot rabbits, captured squirrels and used
 the money thus obtained to buy cloth
 to feed that voracious but adora ble sewing machine.
 In the meantime my outdoor edu- cation was not neglected Old Bill was giving attention to that. Ere
 quently I visited him in his shanty, the "Wanton garden cabin" in the heart of the woods. I knew some thing of Bill. but I found with him. as I have found in later study of na- tural science. that the most charming knowledge is that which brings one in contact with an unexp1orable mys- tery beyond. The charm consists in pursuing the object that fees into "a ct y1yn rxf-
 But I soon left the woods and the farm. The old life was changing I entered Bacon Academy, Colchester,
 Conn, perhaps in as surprising a manner as that of any country gawky entering a cultured home in the city. playground. They called me Buck wheat; and said I had hayseed in my hair I wondered what old Bill would do in such circumstances. I re- called his oft repeated advice. NO matter what happens, you must never lose your head" Neither did lose my first, but one of my most taunt- ing companions lost considerable a black eye for many days The eff feet was magical It was all that could be desired. Another eShibit was not necessary From that day on- ward I was greatly respected You may talk of peace treaties and of the influence of culture, but there comes a time in the affairs of men, and al- ways of schooIboys, when respect is won only by force.
 Every day for three years or more, travelled three miles over hill and dale to that academy. One morning the principal came down the aisle from his desk carrying a letter in his hand and with a merry twinkle in his eye laid the letter on my desk. Ed he said, this letter must be intended for you as you fill the bill" Fill the bill? Was that pun on my prize fighting teachers name? I glanced at the letter and my heart leaped to my throat.
 ''Montville, Conn, -, 1879. Principal of Bacon Academy:
 We need a school teacher for our center school. We don't care whether he knows anything or not, but he must have plenty of strength and the ability to use it, unless he wants the big boys to carry him out of school on the first day. We have had several teachers Some of them knew good deal out of the books. but they didn't have strength enough to stay In the schoolhouse; some of our big and lazy bullies tossed them out"
 It was mingling of eusations that came over me. The first thing that popped in my mind was the wonder grizzly hugs if I showed myself a worthy disciple. I looked up at the teached "WiIl there be any exam The twinkle deepened in the principals eyes. ITO which of the requirements are vyou referring? ?' Then he laughed and said, "Go ahead, and try it. I think you will fill the bill" I was sure I could fill the bill with one of the accomplishments that I had acquired in that hut in the woods
 On the following Sunday my fa- ther took me in the farm wagon for eighteen miles across the country to my field of endeavor. The leading committeeman's wife, by a curious coincidence, had been one of my fla