From Magnolia we moved to “Rose Cottage,” owned by a Mr. Richardson, the object in this move being to be near “Washington and Henry” Academy, a boarding and day school carried on by a Mr. and Mrs. Dunton; she was in charge of the small boys and the girls, while her husband taught the large boys. I was in Mrs. Dunton’s department, being but a small chap, and as to whether I learned anything at this time it is a matter of considerable doubt. My mother furnished six pupils to this institution. The principals would come over to “Rose Cottage” two or three times per month, bringing their boarders with them, which visits they appeared to enjoy greatly as a good supper, with a large and shady yard to play in, was certainly well calculated to afford mirth and pleasure to both old and young. A Mr. Osborne, a Presbyterian minister, boarded at the academy, being a unique character and one of the best men to be found anywhere; he formed the plan of teaching the scholars, young and old, the catechism of the Presbyterian Church, and all those who committed it to memory received a nice book as a prize. The climax of the scheme was an offer of a grand prize to any scholar that would repeat the whole of it without a hitch or halt. The children were thoroughly inoculated with Presbyterianism. The final trial of reciting, or memorizing, the catechism came off at the residence of Mr. Thomas Gardner. The contest was one long to be remembered, a Miss Fannie Shelton scoring the first honor, and Miss Newell Gardner the second. The supper provided for this happy occasion was a first class one in every respect. The best that a well-stocked farm house could produce, both in substantials and nicknacks, such for instance, as broiled chicken, roast lamb and barbecued pig, with dessert of ice cream, yellow cake and pies in abundance; it was in short one of the finest “lay-outs” that I ever saw, and being an appreciative youngster I did ample justice to it indeed, and fairly revelled in the many good eatables so generously spread before us, and to this day I remember it with pleasure. “Rose Cottage” was truly a delightful home. The never-failing wheel of time was turning fast, and the water of life that once passed over it will never again turn it. We were all growing fast as we advanced in years. At this time my father bought a place on Nine Mile Road, about two and a half miles from the city, it was named “Auburn,” and to it we moved bag and baggage.
Just as with “Fairfield” and “Magnolia,” we found hospitable neighbors, and genial intercourse was conspicuous. Among them were Colonel Sherwin McRae and family, a Mrs. Gibson, Mr. Tinsley Johnson, Mr. Galt Johnson, and many other well known families, nearly all of whom have now moved away or have passed to the other side of the river. Mr. William Galt Johnson lived about a quarter of a mile from us, and there was a considerable intercourse between the two families. “Galt,” as he was called, was a character of renown and possessed of much personality; one of his traits was never to give a word its correct pronunciation and yet he thought he was right always. I was visiting there one evening, and as supper was placed on the table the bell rang; Galt arose from his seat and in a clear voice said “the bell has pronounced supper ready, let’s go.” His wife, who was a cultivated lady, attempted to correct him by saying “announce, William,” but she could never get him to change his mode of speech. Another of his peculiarities was his lack of fondness of church-going. Mrs. Johnson, his wife, was a regular attendant to the church and naturally desired her husband to accompany her, a most reasonable wish, but Galt made several excuses for not complying, and finally he urged as a last resort that he could not sit in a pew unless he could whittle a stick, and could not collect his thoughts sufficiently to listen to the sermon; so she told him that should not be a good excuse, and that he could take a stick along and trim it as much as he chose, and he consented to go with her, but did not receive much benefit from the sermon.
My mother determined to send me to live with my eldest brother, Doctor William H. Macon, who had recently married Miss Nora C. Braxton, the daughter of Mr. Carter Braxton, of “Ingleside,” Hanover County, the owner of the celebrated plantation “New Castle,” situated on the Pamunkey River. The name of by brother’s home was “Woodland,” about three miles below the well-known tavern at Old Church. The reason of my being sent to live with him was to be convenient to enter the school kept by a Count Larry, one of the best teachers of his day and time. The school house was distant about three miles from my brother’s place, and not too far away for a little boy to walk at that time. I was duly enrolled as a day scholar in Count Larry’s establishment, which consisted of an unpretentious structure, about thirty feet square, with two doors, one for entry and the other for exit, and was lighted by two windows with which to admit the sunshine and fresh air in the summer time, and to shut out the “cold, chilly winds of December.” The school was composed of both boys and girls, and the Count sat in a large wooden chair, with a table at his side similar to those now seen in a modern dairy lunch room in the cities. On the table was placed all his text books and such other teacher’s implements, or fixings, and then to descend as it were from the “sublime to the ridiculous,” he installed, within easy reach, a large earthen “spittoon,” or more modernly speaking, “cuspidor.” The master, enthroned as like a ruler, or king, surveyed his pupils with great dignity and gravity. And although very kind and lenient in his dealings with his young charges, yet when occasion required it he could wield the birch with great effect, but always with prudence and moderation. He always kept a sharp pen-knife ready for use in making or mending quill pens, for steel pens were not then in use for the children; the goose quills were the only kind of pens we knew about, and it was no small job to keep a lot of chaps well supplied with writing materials, for he was constantly called upon.
We were given an hour at playtime, and about a mile and half away was a mill pond, which is probably there now unless dried up, and to this, in the warm weather, the boys, both large and small, repaired in great glee, but the girls did not accompany us.
Well school boys are proverbially as prone to mischief as are the sparks to fly upwards, and when the Count would be absorbed in study the boys would throw torpedoes upon the floor which would quickly arouse him from his studies, but was soon made to believe that it was but an accidental match dropped and trodden upon, though in truth it was pure deviltry on the part of some of the larger boys. An incident fraught with much concern to me in connection with a boy by the name of Benjamin Tucker, who was about my age, but much stouter and had by some means gotten me under a sort of “hack,” and it becoming very annoying I finally concluded that the thing had gone far enough, so one day I lost patience with Benjamin and I just “pitched into” him and gave him a gentle thrashing; he had on a brand-new nine-pence straw hat which I got hold of and tore to smithereens. Well, after this “scrap” I had no further trouble with Master Benjamin Tucker.
Another rather humorous matter which happened about this time at school was about a boy who was called “Phil.” He was the pet and idol of his mother, who took a pair of his father’s old pants and made him a pair from them, but the trouble was that the cloth was not sufficient for the garment, and resulted in their being too small and too tight in the body when his burly form was encased therein, and became as solid as a drumhead, and we had a popular game called hard ball and the mischievous fellows selected him as a special target, and when the ball struck him plumb it rebounded as if it was rubber, but at last he got tired of being made a butt of ridicule and a target in the game, so he complained to his mother and she reported the matter to our teacher, requesting that gentleman that the boys should be made to stop the treatment to her son; the Count, after giving it careful consideration, told his mother that the only remedy that he could suggest was to get her boy a new and a more roomy pair of trousers, and cast the old ones which had caused his annoyance aside. Our old teacher was a good and faithful one, and if his pupils did not profit by his knowledge and training, it surely was not his fault. He possessed of course some objectionable habits, such as when school closed he would get on a “spree” and remain on it until school was assembled for work, when all traces of his riotous living had disappeared.
CHAPTER IV.
My brother, Miles Macon, afterwards commander of the Fayette Artillery, Confederate States Army, joined me at “Woodland” and became a scholar in our school; he was my senior by two years. Our country life there was very pleasant, for on Saturdays we would hunt birds all day, as my brother owned a fine pointer dog named “Roscoe,” and we were hunting on “Spring Garden,” owned by Judge Meredith, it being about seven miles from our place, when the old dog broke down from the infirmities of age and Miles and I carried him home on our shoulders, it being his last appearance in the fields that he had so successfully hunted, for he died soon afterwards.
About this period politics were coming strongly to the front, and I remember when Mr. Chastaine White was nominated by the Democrats for the General Assembly, and William C. Wickham was put up by the Whig party for the same office. My brother, Dr. Macon, was a Whig, and a friend and supporter of Wickham. The Democrat was of course elected, as at that time a Whig stood no show, however superior his qualification for the position might be. Another feature of the times was the muster of the county militia, when the colonel commandant, arrayed in a uniform as gorgeous as that of a field marshal of France, put his men through a few drill evolutions and then disbanded them, after which all hands went willingly up and took a drink, and it was a field day, for Mr. Ellett who then kept “Old Church” Tavern and profited greatly by the crowd’s liberal spending of money.
There were two churches near “Woodland,” the Presbyterian was called “Bethlehem,” a name connected with many good associations; the other was an Episcopal one, and named “Emmanuel,” which name suggests many Christian ideas. As a boy I attended both these churches, and noticed one thing particularly that was that the male attendants, both communicants and non-communicants, gathered on the outside and discussed farming and neighboring topics and conditions generally. I also observed that those living a long distance from the church always dined with some friend near the church, this being, I thought, simply a species of “whacking” which was quite admissible under the circumstances.