My father provided me with a carpenter's bench and tools and, without serving an apprenticeship, I became an expert carpenter, repairing farm tools and making furniture, as well as toys for the children. I was put to work "dropping corn" when not over eight years old and, later, hoeing and cultivating, as were all the children of my time. We were healthy and strong. Few children wore glasses and few had bad teeth.
I first went to school about 1840, when I was six. The school was a log house with a puncheon floor. Benches for the smaller scholars were saw-mill slabs, with four legs, without backs. The older boys had their bench facing the wall, with a broad plank on which to write fastened on pins in the logs.
School teachers, employed by the farmers, "boarded around" for a week or two at a time with the parents. These schoolmasters were almost invariably Irish, and governed entirely by fear, punishing cruelly. Of course, the children became stupid, uninterested, and learned slowly. We were made to sit on the bench eight hours a day, holding a book in our hands, whether studying or not. Hearing of the New England method of "moral suasion," my father interested his neighbors and succeeded in engaging as teacher a young man from New Hampshire.
He, Charlie Naylor, told us that he had come from afar, where the teachers tried to avoid corporal punishment, and that, unless it was absolutely forced upon him, he would never whip us. He was brilliant, active and industrious, and soon won the love of his sixty scholars.
Many settlers were from Kentucky, where they compelled the teacher to "treat" on Christmas. If he refused, they tied him hand and foot, took him to the river and immersed him under the ice until he consented to supply them with apples, candy and cider. Naylor's predecessor had been treated this way.
When Christmas came nine boys over fifteen years old determined to demand the treat. The day before Christmas these nine boys took the loose benches and barred the double doors. My cousin, Lee Kenworthy, passed a note through the transom to the teacher, demanding the usual Christmas treat.
Naylor read the paper, stamped it under his feet, went to the wood pile and got the axe. Smashing the door panels, he boldly entered, axe in hand, walking to the center of the room ringing his bell violently. Every scholar proceeded to his seat. For some minutes the teacher walked back and forth. Then he asked the larger boys in turn: "Had you any hand in this?"
Each answered clearly that he had. They were brave boys. To each of the nine boys Naylor said: "Take your place out in the middle of the room near the stove." Then he gave his knife to the boy on the right and said: "Go out to that beech tree and cut nine good switches."
Naylor deliberately drew each switch through his hand, laid it on the hot stove, where it began to pop and frizzle, then slowly drew it through his hand again, bending it back and forth. Finally he walked out before the boy on the right and called on him to step forward and give him his left hand. Then, raising the switch with a frightful effort, he brought it down mildly on the boy's shoulder, and told the boy to return to his seat. He repeated this with each of the nine, none making any resistance. He then threw the switches in the fire and resumed teaching.