The ground hog goes into his hole in the ground early in the fall, and stays there until the 2d day of February, when, regardless of the weather, he comes out; but, if he sees his shadow, winter is not over, and he goes back to stay six weeks.

It was stated by a member of the senate, at the time, that every year things were made worse—“That members of the legislature got acts passed, under pretexts of granting leases to themselves, relatives and political partisans, giving the lands away until there was little or nothing left.” One senator got acts passed giving him and his children seven entire sections. And legislation through ignorance, inability and design subverted the intention in regard to the school-land grant—squandered the proceeds, and then pledged the state to pay the interest. And for this pledge the citizen is annually taxed on a fund of over four million dollars, which exists nowhere excepting in name on the musty books of the state.

But the young Buckeye Squirrel Hunter could not be repressed; and fathers and mothers labored hard and economized to help sustain subscription schools to the full extent of their financial ability; while the State of Connecticut was supporting an expensive system of common school education from a fund arising from the sale of her lands in Ohio.[6]

The teachers of Ohio subscription schools were not examined, nor did their patrons require a very high standard of qualification. Still some were highly educated wanderers over the earth, as the literary works of H. D. Flood, John Robinson and James Kelsey show; and who were teachers in Southern Ohio from 1810 to 1825. The greater number of instructors were well-informed citizens, who accepted the opportunity in order to pursue studies that would qualify them for a more lucrative calling.

It was not customary to close the school on holidays; nor even on Saturdays. They were all hired by the month and were required to perform the duties of teaching the full number of working days in each calendar month—neither Christmas, New Year nor Fourth of July could close the door. The patrons were the sole managers of these schools, and were solicitous to obtain full consideration for the amount paid. But young America was alive, and the incentive a holiday by nature gave, could not, under the most staid rules of conduct and economy, be entirely suppressed; and it became more contagious than measles or whooping-cough, and every school in the country was soon broken out with the idea of a holiday—in parts of two days—Christmas and New Year.

There seemed to be no way to treat it other than to let it have its regular course. It always came with a specific demand upon the teacher, of which the following well-preserved pattern specimen embraces the material points of others, varying only in quantity and quality, with locality and circumstances:

“December 23, 1817.

“Mr. John Robinson (Teacher)—

“Sir:—We the undersigned committee, in behalf of the unanimous voice of the scholars of your school, demand that you treat, according to custom, to the following articles in amount herein named, to wit:

200 ginger cakes,
2 bushels of hickory nuts,
1 peck hazel nuts,
10 pounds of candy,
10 pounds raisins,

delivered at the school house, noon hour, December 25, for the enjoyment and pleasant remembrance of this school. If this meets your approbation you will please sign and return the paper to John Kelley to-morrow, December 24, at noon, saying, over your signature, ‘I agree to the above,’

“John Kelley,
James Brown,
William Smallwood,

}

Committee.”

Occasionally a teacher not fond of fun or fearful of exposure, would at once sign these modest demands, and would join in with the children at noon on Christmas, and again on New Year’s day, and have a long to be remembered pleasant jollification. But by far the greater number of teachers preferred a little preliminary skirmishing before acceding to the peremptory demand. When the above bill of fare was handed the teacher just before dismissal on the evening of the 23d, he glanced over the contents and commenced tearing the paper into small fragments. And it was said this meant defiance.