Harper's Young People, August 23, 1881 / An Illustrated Weekly

WATCHING THE RISE OF THE WATER.
Hamp See a dunce! Well, maybe so; but arter what I've seed, it 'ud take a smarter school-master than you to make me think so.
It was old Riley Vaughn who spoke, and although old Riley had no education, his hard sense and sound judgment were respected by all the men who sat there in the village post-office waiting for the mail. He had grown prosperous by dint of hard work and good judgment, and his neighbors were accustomed to ask for and to respect his opinions.
I did not say precisely that, Mr. Vaughn, replied Mr. Penruddock, the school-master. I only said that my best efforts to educate the boy were rendered futile and nugatory by reason of his inexplicable inability to grasp and retain so simple a thing as the accidence of the Latin verb.
That means, in plain English, that he ain't got no grip on what you teach him, don't it? asked Riley.
Yes, that is what I mean, replied the school-master, with something like a shudder at old Riley's English. But I will make an honorable exception in the matter of mathematics. He seems instinctively to grasp arithmetical principles.
Yes, drawled old Riley; one o' your boys tole me Hamp could figger out how long it 'ud take fer a cistern to git full ef they was three pipes o' different sizes a-runnin' into it, an' two others o' still different sizes a-runnin' out.
Yes, he is expert in the practical applications of arithmetic; and yet even in arithmetic his standing is not good, because he seems incapable of mastering the exact terms of the formulæ and rules.
Well, now, look here, said old Riley, rising and striking the counter with his big fist; it jest comes to this here: the boy ain't got no grip on your words an' things; but he's got a good grip on idees an' principles, an' it's my belief that's the inside o' sense. I don't want to be unnecessarily offensive, but you an' all school-masters like you ought to teach parrots. They don't want no idees; they jest want the words, an' that's your notion o' learnin'. That's the trouble o' this here country down here: men learn words, an' kin make speeches, but they can't do nothin'. Now I've seed that boy Hamp See do what nary a man in this county could do. I bought the fust reapin'-machine as was ever seed in these parts, an' when it come it was all to pieces, an' packed in boxes. I sent one arter another fer all the blacksmiths an' wheelwrights an' carpenters hereabouts to set the thing up, an' I'm blest ef one on 'em could make out which end o' the thing was foremost. Not one on 'em could put any two pieces together. That 'ere boy hung around all the time, with his forred creased up like, an' finally he says to me, says he, 'Mr. Vaughn, let me try.' 'Well, try,' says I; 'an' ef you git her together, I've got a five-dollar bill fer you.' Maybe you won't believe it, but afore noon that very day that there reaper was a-reapin' wheat like a dozen hands. The boy jest seed right into the thing. Now I say ef he's a dunce, the sooner most people in these here parts loses their senses an' gits to be dunces, the better 'twill be for all concerned. And with that old Riley stalked indignantly out of the post-office.