| When Mary Ann Dollinger got the skule daown thar on Injun Bay |
| I was glad, fer I like ter see a gal makin' her honest way, |
| I heerd some talk in the village abaout her flyin' high, |
| Tew high for busy farmer folks with chores ter dew ter fly; |
| But I paid no sorter attention ter all the talk ontell |
| She come in her reg-lar boardin' raound ter visit with us a spell. |
| My Jake an' her has been cronies ever since they could walk, |
| An' it tuk me aback ter hear her kerrectin' him in his talk. |
| |
| Jake ain't no hand at grammar, though he hain't his beat for work; |
| But I sez ter myself, "Look out, my gal, yer a-foolin' with a Turk!" |
| Jake bore it wonderful patient, an' said in a mournful way, |
| He p'sumed he was behindhand with the doin's at Injun Bay. |
| I remember once he was askin' for some o' my Injun buns, |
| An' she said he should allus say, "them air," stid o' "them is" the ones. |
| Wal, Mary Ann kep' at him stiddy mornin' an' evenin' long, |
| Tell he dassent open his mouth for fear o' talkin' wrong. |
| |
| One day I was pickin' currants down by the old quince tree, |
| When I heerd Jake's voice a-sayin', "Be ye willin' ter marry me?" |
| An' Mary Ann kerrectin', "Air ye willin', yeou sh'd say." |
| Our Jake he put his foot daown in a plum decided way. |
| "No wimmen-folks is a-goin' ter be rearrangin' me, |
| Hereafter I says 'craps,' 'them is,' 'I calk'late,' an' 'I be.' |
| Ef folks don't like my talk they needn't hark ter what I say; |
| But I ain't a-goin' to take no sass from folks from Injun Bay; |
| I ask you free an' final, 'Be ye goin' to marry me?'" |
| An' Mary Ann sez, tremblin', yet anxious-like, "I be." |
| I |
| The district school-master was sitting behind his great book-laden desk, |
| Close-watching the motions of scholars, pathetic and gay and grotesque. |
| As whisper the half-leafless branches, when autumn's brisk breezes have come, |
| His little scrub-thicket of pupils sent upward a half-smothered hum. |
| There was little Tom Timms on the front seat, whose face was withstanding a drouth. |
| And jolly Jack Gibbs just behind him, with a rainy new moon for a mouth; |
| There were both of the Smith boys, as studious as if they bore names that could bloom, |
| And Jim Jones, a heaven-built mechanic, the slyest young knave in the room, |
| With a countenance grave as a horse's, and his honest eyes fixed on a pin, |
| Queer-bent on a deeply-laid project to tunnel Joe Hawkins's skin. |
| There were anxious young novices, drilling their spelling-books into their brain, |
| Loud-puffing each half-whispered letter, like an engine just starting its train; |
| There was one fiercely muscular fellow, who scowled at the sums on his slate, |
| And leered at the innocent figures a look of unspeakable hate; |
| And set his white teeth close together, and gave his thin lips a short twist, |
| As to say, "I could whip you, confound you! could such things be done with the fist!" |
| There were two knowing girls in the corner, each one with some beauty possessed, |
| In a whisper discussing the problem which one the young master likes best; |
| A class in the front, with their readers, were telling, with difficult pains, |
| How perished brave Marco Bozzaris while bleeding at all of his veins; |
| And a boy on the floor to be punished, a statue of idleness stood, |
| Making faces at all of the others, and enjoying the scene all he could. |
| |
| II |
| Around were the walls, gray and dingy, which every old school-sanctum hath, |
| With many a break on their surface, where grinned a wood-grating of lath. |
| A patch of thick plaster, just over the school-master's rickety chair, |
| Seemed threat'ningly o'er him suspended, like Damocles' sword, by a hair. |
| There were tracks on the desks where the knife-blades had wandered in search of their prey; |
| Their tops were as duskily spattered as if they drank ink every day. |
| The square stove it puffed and it crackled, and broke out in red flaming sores, |
| Till the great iron quadruped trembled like a dog fierce to rush out-o'-doors. |
| White snowflakes looked in at the windows; the gale pressed its lips to the cracks; |
| And the children's hot faces were streaming, the while they were freezing their backs. |
| |
| III |
| Now Marco Bozzaris had fallen, and all of his suff'rings were o'er, |
| And the class to their seats were retreating, when footsteps were heard at the door; |
| And five of the good district fathers marched into the room in a row, |
| And stood themselves up by the fire, and shook off their white cloaks of snow. |
| And the spokesman, a grave squire of sixty, with countenance solemnly sad, |
| Spoke thus, while the children all listened, with all of the ears that they had: |
| "We've come here, school-master, in-tendin' to cast an inquirin' eye 'round, |
| Concernin' complaints that's been entered, an' fault that has lately been found; |
| To pace off the width of your doin's, an' witness what you've been about, |
| An' see if it's paying to keep you, or whether we'd best turn ye out. |
| "The first thing I'm bid for to mention is, when the class gets up to read |
| You give 'em too tight of a reinin', an' touch 'em up more than they need; |
| You're nicer than wise in the matter of holdin' the book in one han', |
| An' you turn a stray g in their doin's, an' tack an odd d on their an'; |
| There ain't no great good comes of speakin' the words so polite, as I see, |
| Providin' you know what the facts is, an' tell 'em off jest as they be. |
| An' then there's that readin' in corncert, is censured from first unto last; |
| It kicks up a heap of a racket, when folks is a-travelin' past. |
| Whatever is done as to readin', providin' things go to my say, |
| Shan't hang on no new-fangled hinges, but swing in the old-fashioned way." |
| And the other four good district fathers gave quick the consent that was due, |
| And nodded obliquely, and muttered: "Them 'ere is my sentiments tew." |
| "Then as to your spellin': I've heern tell, by the mas has looked into this, |
| That you turn the u out o' your labour, an' make the word shorter than 'tis; |
| An' clip the k off yer musick, which makes my son Ephraim perplexed, |
| An' when he spells out as he ought'r, you pass the word on to the next. |
| They say there's some new-grafted books here that don't take them letters along; |
| But if it is so, just depend on 't, them new-grafted books is made wrong. |
| You might just as well say that Jackson didn't know all there was about war, |
| As to say that old Spellin'-book Webster didn't know what them letters was for." |
| And the other four good district fathers gave quick the consent that was due, |
| And scratched their heads slyly and softly, and said: "Them's my sentiments tew." |
| "Then, also, your 'rithmetic doin's, as they are reported to me, |
| Is that you have left Tare an' Tret out, an' also the old Rule o' Three; |
| An' likewise brought in a new study, some high-steppin' scholars to please, |
| With saw-bucks an' crosses and pothooks, an' w's, x's, y's an' z's. |
| We ain't got no time for such foolin'; there ain't no great good to be reached |
| By tiptoein' childr'n up higher than ever their fathers was teached." |
| And the other four good district fathers gave quick the consent that was due, |
| And cocked one eye up to the ceiling, and said: "Them's my sentiments tew." |
| "Another thing, I must here mention, comes into the question to-day, |
| Concernin' some things in the grammar you're teachin' our gals for to say. |
| My gals is as steady as clockwork, and never give cause for much fear, |
| But they come home from school t'other evenin' a-talking such stuff as this here: |
| 'I love,' an' 'Thou lovest,' an' 'He loves,' an' 'We love,' an' 'You love,' an' 'They—' |
| An' they answered my questions: 'It's grammar'—'twas all I could get 'em to say. |
| Now if, 'stead of doin' your duty, you're carryin' matters on so |
| As to make the gals say that they love you, it's just all that I want to know." |
| |
| IV |
| Now Jim, the young heaven-built mechanic, in the dusk of the evening before, |
| Had well-nigh unjointed the stovepipe, to make it come down on the floor; |
| And the squire bringing smartly his foot down, as a clincher to what he had said, |
| A joint of the pipe fell upon him, and larruped him square on the head. |
| The soot flew in clouds all about him, and blotted with black all the place |
| And the squire and the other four fathers were peppered with black in the face. |
| The school, ever sharp for amusement, laid down all their cumbersome books |
| And, spite of the teacher's endeavors, laughed loud at their visitors' looks. |
| And the squire, as he stalked to the doorway, swore oaths of a violet hue; |
| And the four district fathers, who followed, seemed to say: "Them's my sentiments tew." |
| |
| Will Carleton. |