Year: 1860

I suppose one reason [ am so long
getting through life is because [ was
born in slow age, before childhood was
abolished, and it became customary for
infants to leap out of the bib and tucker
into brocade and stove-pipe hats l
have been eighty-three years on life's
Journey, come next Michaelmas, and I
have not as yet had far view of Stvx,
save when, from the delectable mountains
of the souls serenity, [ have beheld its
rolling tide, golden with the glories of
my setting sun Well, | always was
slow horse there is no telling but still
another score Of years may roll round
before stop growing old.


There was not as much competition in
my day (for now is my evening as there
is now. Competition, they say, lis the
life of trade, and it is, no doubt but it
has already proved itself the death Of
the trader, ninety five cases in hun
dred, in the dry goods trade; and expe-
rience will show this rule to hold good
in every pursuit turned into a steeple-
chase or hazard. This is simply an
old mans opinion.


With the single exception of sober
and temperate life, this age develops
competition on the mad-h house plan, in
every department. Look, for instance,
at our primary institutions Of learning,


In my day, applications of birch and
ferule were deemed indispensable in the
process of teaching the young idea how
to shoot. That was mistake, no doubt.
1t was one of the evils of my time,
against which, however, no crusade need
now be waged, seeing that far greater
incentive to Juvenile activity has been
found in the ambition to excel, so nat
ural to every mind, especially the young,
who are generally inspired with it, be
the object good, bad, or Indifferent.
Having thus acknowledged the superb
ority of the moder, method of inficting
the rudiments, [ hope to be saved the
modification of seeing 'fogy' annexed to
what [ frankly confess myself-old.
Evils are as inseparable from systems as
are shadows from substances for every
good thing may be abused But, while
teachers are ever willing to admit that
youthful brains are sometimes overtaxed
and weakened, through abuse of the
graded system, they are evidently very
10th to own that such has been the result
under their own administration This
is as natural as for tippler to own the
truth Of all you can say to him, provided
you will only apply it all to his neigh
bors who take glass day more than
he. Every organism in nature in
Istinctively displays its own perfections !;
and man.but obeys universal law when
he seeks to hide his effects


Still, when young minds are injured
by overtaxing them, it has been done
under the administration of some Jealous
teacher; and if the following, which is


founded on fact should recall to the
mind Of any reader scenes in which he
has played part, let him rest assured
that this old and slightly trembling hand
is not impelled by the least spark of ac-
rimony. There is now so much talent
engaged in teaching, and the competi-
ton in that branch of industry has, by
the general diffusion of knowledge, and
also by woman's entrance into it, become
so intense, that it is hardly to be wonder
ed at that the pupils brain is simply
| looked upon, by the ambitious pedagogue,
as a mill in which medley grist of
spelling and reading, primary sounds
and chronological definitions, mental and
higher arithmetic, physical geography
and grammer, PHILOSOPHY and astrono-
my, equations, roods, sections and tri-
angles, with a discord Of flats, smatter
of parlez Uous, areis nichts, non sperro ma
tuggir, or ad captandun, daubing of
colors, ETC., without regard to the injury
it may do to the gearing, is to be ground
out. And | feel rather inclined to pity
than censure one whose situation and
standing in his profession depends upon
his ability to set youthful brains on fire.
With these few preliminary remarks I
proceed to my short narrative.


Several weeks ago, l begun to be
walked up, night after night, by person
quietly undressing and going to bed, in
the room adjoining mine. Sixty years
ago, l should never have known it +; but
the slumbers of age are light and watch
ful-wary. for the soft tread Of the sable
angel is on their path grew curious
and, curiosity keeping me awake, I soon
learned, by various carefully made
noises, that said person sat up, every
night, in said room, till twelve o'clock,
and, at times, into the small hours
Knowing that the little attic chamber in