CHAPTER II.—A TERRIBLE REALITY.
After the lapse of more than four score of years the voyageur from the frigid North returned from his philanthropic visit to the red man. A wonderful change met the eye. A transformation as magnificent as it was bewildering had occurred. The same grand old bluffs looked proudly down upon the Father of Water. The same magnificent river pursued its unmolested course toward the boundless ocean. But all else had changed. The hostile warrior no longer impeded the onward march of civilization, and cultivated fields abounded on every side. Steamers were hourly traversing the translucent waters of the great Mississippi; steam and electricity were carrying people with the rapidity of lightning in every direction; gigantic buildings appeared on the earth's surface, visible in either direction as far as the eye could reach; on every corner was a proud descendant of Erin's nobility, clad in gorgeous raiment, who had been branded "St. Paul's finest" before leaving the shores of his native land. In the midst of this great city was a magnificent building, erected by the generosity of its people, in which the paleface, supported on either side by the Okons, was the high and mighty ruler. The Okons and the followers of the Okons were in possession of every office within the gift of the paleface. Floating proudly from the top of this great building was an immense banner, on which was painted in monster letters the talismanic words: "For mayor, 1902, Robert A. Smith," Verily the prophecy of the dusky maiden had been fulfilled. The paleface had become impregnably intrenched. The Okons could never be dislodged.
With feelings of unutterable anguish at the omnipresence of the Okons, the aged voyageur quietly retraced his footsteps and was never more seen by the helpless and overburdened subjects of the paleface.
SPELLING DOWN A SCHOOL.
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When I was about twelve years of age I resided in a small village in one of the mountainous and sparsely settled sections of the northern part of Pennsylvania.
It was before the advent of the railroad and telegraph in that locality. The people were not blessed with prosperity as it is known to-day. Neither were they gifted with the intellectual attainments possessed by the inhabitants of the same locality at the present time. Many of the old men served in the war of 1812, and they were looked up to with about the same veneration as are the heroes of the Civil War to-day. It was at a time when the younger generation was beginning to acquire a thirst for knowledge, but it was not easily obtained under the peculiar conditions existing at that period. A school district that was able to support a school for six months in each year was indeed considered fortunate, but even in these the older children were not permitted to attend during the summer months, as their services were considered indispensable in the cultivation of the soil.
Reading, writing and arithmetic were about all the studies pursued in those rural school districts, although occasionally some of the better class of the country maidens could be seen listlessly glancing over a geography or grammar, but they were regarded as "stuck up," and the other pupils thought they were endeavoring to master something far beyond their capacity.
Our winter school term generally commenced the first week in December and lasted until the first week in March, with one evening set apart each week for a spelling-match and recitation. We had our spelling match on Saturday nights, and every four weeks we would meet with schools in other districts in a grand spelling contest. I was considered too young to participate in any of the joint spelling matches, and my heart was heavy within me every time I saw a great four-horse sleigh loaded with joyful boys and girls on their way to one of the great contests.
One Saturday night there was to be a grand spelling match at a country crossroad about four miles from our village, and four schools were to participate. As I saw the great sleigh loaded for the coming struggle the thought occurred to me that if I only managed to secure a ride without being observed I might in some way be able to demonstrate to the older scholars that in spelling at least I was their equal. While the driver was making a final inspection of the team preparatory to starting I managed to crawl under his seat, where I remained as quiet as mouse until the team arrived at the point of destination. I had not considered the question of getting back—I left that to chance. As soon as the different schools had arrived two of the best spellers were selected to choose sides, and it happened that neither of them was from our school. I stood in front of the old-fashioned fire-place and eagerly watched the pupils as they took their places in the line. They were drawn in the order of their reputation as spellers. When they had finished calling the names I was still standing by the fireplace, and I thought my chance was hopeless. The school-master from our district noticed my woebegone appearance, and he arose from his seat and said: