Eli and Sibyl Jones, Their Life and Work

by Rufus M. Jones

A schoolhouse was built just over the hill north of his home, and thither he went to be taught; but the terms were very short, and the teachers only knew a few first principles, though they faithfully labored to fix these in the minds of their pupils. One teacher, after working two days on a problem in long division, gave the result to Eli Jones, saying, "I know that is right now, but I can't explain it to you or tell you why it is done that way." Eli had an exalted opinion of one of the teachers who held sway in this little house, and has often spoken of him with affection. He spent a whole winter teaching his older pupils to spell ordinary English words correctly, and took Eli through the spelling-book until all the words in it were fixed visibly in his brain, where they have since remained; and in all his teaching since spelling has been one of the branches which was not elective in the course.

During the winter of 1827 he had the benefit of the charitable fund at the Friends' School in Providence, R. I. He divided the half year with another scholar, so that he had only three months, but he was prepared to make the most of this opportunity. He took ship-passage from Bath to Providence. The first night after his departure from home his mother passed in walking the floor and worrying for her boy tossed on the sea, as she supposed, but he was quietly sleeping all the while in his berth on the ship, which had anchored in the harbor on account of fog, and sailed the next morning.

Friends' School, which had been opened at Portsmouth in 1784, was in its second organization less than ten years old when he came to it, but it was firmly established, and was often visited by its foster-father, the venerable Moses Brown. The institution consisted of one tall, massive brick building looking toward the south, and two lower transverse wings, to which successive additions have been made to meet the needs of the times. In front and rear of the buildings were extensive grounds divided into yards, lawns, and groves of oak and chestnut trees, then in their youth, now majestic with the increase of half a century. Beyond the boundary of the school property, toward the river which Roger Williams had crossed in his search for a peaceful abode, were great forests of ancient maples, oaks, and chestnuts, with hillsides of towering hemlocks, and swamps where the boys, who did not study botany, sought for little beyond the extermination of a marvellous race of black snakes. From the cupola of the middle building was a prospect of wide extent, showing to the new-comers the whole State at a glance, and placing before their eyes the waters of Narragansett Bay.

Enoch Breed—called universally "Cousin Enoch"—was at the head of the school as superintendent, while his wife, "Cousin Lydia," was the matron. She was a sweet, lovely lady, and her presence was felt by all in the school. "Cousin Enoch" was not an educator, but he was a kind, fatherly man, a shrewd manager, a good farmer, and an exemplary character. He always wore his broad-brimmed hat, and was never seen outside of his private room with it off; the boys looked upon him as their patriarch, and, indeed, it is said that on one occasion he was asked if he were Methuselah, and dryly answered, "No, I am Enoch."

Isaiah Jones taught the mathematics, and was considered a very successful teacher. The other instructors were David Daniels, who taught what Latin was then required; George Jones, Moses Mitchel, Abigail Pierce, and Mary Almy.

Reading, spelling, and grammar were the only classes which recited; all the other work of the school was done privately, each student being independent and going as slowly or rapidly as his brain-power and ambition prescribed. Mathematics was the important branch, and each boy copied problems and their solutions into interminable copy-books. The school-room was small and lighted by tin oil lamps on the desks. In this room there were often one hundred and fifty boys: a number of these were appointed as monitors to report all disorderly conduct to the teachers.

The meetings were held in the building in an upper chamber, where boys and girls and teachers sat in the same room. These were generally silent meetings, but occasionally William Almy or Doctor Tobey came to give them counsel.

Among the schoolmates of Eli Jones were James N. Buffum, since ex-mayor of Lynn, Mass., and Peter Neal, also since ex-mayor of the same city, now on the committee of the school. The latter relates that Eli Jones received the "christening" always given new boys in those days, and his remark on that occasion was characteristic of him. The old students were put in line at night on the play-ground, and among them stood the newcomer. A "dummy" with swollen cheeks came to each boy in turn, and was answered by all, "Um!" until he reached Eli, who, as instructed beforehand, said, "Squirt," when suddenly his face was filled with water. Instead of the attack which the boys expected, Eli quietly remarked, "That was cleverly done." Peter Neal remarks that if he had been known as he was a month later, he would have received no christening.

His schoolmates relate that he was a good boy, and that he was generally liked. In his youth he was much troubled by an impediment in his speech, and he early resolved to remedy it as much as possible. He was the only one of scholars or teachers in the boarding-school who was accustomed to speak in the Friends' meeting. He had already begun to speak at home, and, notwithstanding the trial which it was to him as a young man, he stood up among the boys and forced his voice to say what was in his heart. Few who heard him on those occasions are alive now, but these few remember how it impressed them to see one who played with them on the campus and sat with them in classes speak so earnestly before them and all the rows of solemn Friends. They respected his message, for his life was pure.

He had a dread of the nursery, and resolved to keep out of it, but he was taken with typhoid fever, and after vainly fighting it off at last succumbed to be doctored in the vigorous way of those times. He had a long, hard siege of it, and lost a number of weeks from his brief term; but this short break from his usual life and the intercourse with cultivated teachers and scholars could not fail to leave its impress. It lifted his aspirations and widened somewhat the course of his thoughts, giving an impulse to his future life more valuable than mere knowledge. While it is to be regretted that so short a time was given him for satisfying his longings for a higher education, we rejoice that he knew so well how to school himself and to be a teacher to himself. He was a good mathematician, and his copy-books show that he was no tyro at figures; but he affirms that his drill in the old spelling-book was of far greater worth to him than his higher mathematics.