Quog was a maritime place, at least pretty near to the salt-meadows on Long Island, and carried on a vigorous trade in clams, eels, cockles, horse-feet, fish of various kinds, and wild duck. The inhabitants were unlearned, and so were their ancestors before them, down to the first settlement. There was no occasion for this; they might have been highly educated to a man, had they desired learning, and that too without money and without price. There was a source of revenue among them, which could be instantly developed, richer than could be derived from creeks, bays, and fishing-grounds in a century. They might have varied the intervals of toil with the delight of books, whereas in the existing state of things there was not so much as a bible or an almanac to be found along the whole shore. Some philanthropists in a remote part of the town undertook to abate this ignorance, and to make the people of Quog wise. These however resented this meddling impudence with great fury, and raised up such a storm of prejudice and bad feeling as had never been known to rage within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. It was a very dangerous experiment on the part of the minority; the 'judicious Hookers' among them were fain to acknowledge that the attempt was ill-judged and premature. There were town-lands belonging to the town of Quog to the amount of some thousand acres, lying in their state of natural wildness, without fence, but capable of producing good crops, and being richly cultured. From so much waste ground but a small and partial benefit fell to the share of each inhabitant. The imagination of the philanthropist loved to picture those extensive plains, which now stretched as far as the eye could reach, without tree or shrub, in one melancholy extent of barrenness, converted into rich farms, covered with waving harvests, and giving sustenance to men inured to the noblest of all labor, the culture of the soil. There was now indeed one pleasing, picturesque sight, of which the eye never wearied; multitudes of cattle, dotting the plain in large companies, quietly grazing, or standing in reflective attitudes, almost as if they were painted on the canvass. Seen at a little distance, on the naked plain, and relieved by no near object these variegated groups would cause the eye which loves the beautiful or picturesque to dance with rapture. The air of quietude and repose diffused over these dumb creatures, recalls to the mind every picture of rural happiness, the fondest we have conceived in dreams, or read of in the lucubrations of the poets.
It was desirable to dispose of these lands for a moderate price, and convert the revenue into a fund for the education of every child in the town of Quog. There were a few who had long anxiously reflected on this subject, and brought every plausible argument to bear upon the inhabitants. They should relinquish no privilege, they should reap inconceivable advantages for themselves and their posterity, and education should shed down its blessings upon all; in short, nobody could foresee what a revolution would take place among the people of Quog, if they would but sell the town-lands. There was no use however of stirring up the matter. Uncle Billy said it should not be done; no, never, never, while his head was above ground; and 'if he said so, it would have to be so.'
Years passed away, and still the light of education had never dawned on that benighted people. They were yet addicted to their old pursuits, spending most of the time in taking eels and clams, and seemed not to have a single wish beyond satisfying their present hunger. They sent their cows to pasture on the great plains; and this was a heritage which their fathers enjoyed, and which, in spite of all modern reform, they meant to transmit undiminished to their children. Mr. William Pine grew fonder of the bottle as he grew older, and was held in more affectionate respect. He threw out his disjointed philosophy with a most unstudied air, during the interval of his whiffs; and whether on general politics, or local measures, his sentiments crept abroad, and formed a standard of opinion for the whole town of Quog. So subtle a thing is influence. It is not riches, it is not talent, it is not eloquence; it is the je ne sais quoi.
At last the reform party, who had kept quiet a good while, with a forlorn hope of a better state of things, expecting moreover in the course of nature that it would please divine Providence to remove out of this mortal life their obdurate neighbor, began with a very cautious foot to stir up the old project of selling the town-lands. They talked very indefatigably, but in a gentle, subdued tone, with all their neighbors, smoothing down their asperities of temper, and presenting the subject in a great many plausible lights. Nor did their labor seem wholly in vain. Those who listened urged nothing in reply, and were even willing to acknowledge that what they had stated 'was all well enough.' These good reformers persevered in their peripatetic philosophy, and even flattered themselves that they had obtained a good position, and had got a lever adjusted with which they would move the mountain of old prejudice, and get rid of that terrible stumbling-block in the way of all good measures, that blind and ignorant, but influential old man!
The crisis had now come, when, according to their judgment, it would be judicious to bring into play their new strength, and test the whole matter by a public vote at the next meeting of the town. In the mean time, they spared no pains to seek out the most violent opposers, to reason with them emolliently; and to spread out, simplify, and explain the subject to those of extreme stupidity. At last a great many said that they were well enough satisfied, and 'thought it like enough that they would vote for the measure.' The 'friends of education' held a caucus, which was attended with great animation and rubbing of hands. A committee, appointed for the purpose, presented the draught of a school-house on an improved plan. Public opinion seemed to have become so leavened by these new and enlightened views, as to leave scarcely a single doubt of the most unqualified success. One could mention three or four who were wavering; another a half a dozen who had made up their minds; another a dozen who declared expressly that they would vote for the measure. All this diffused encouraging smiles over the faces of the members, and led many of them to declare boldly that they could have carried their point some years ago, if they had only thought so; that it only required tact, management, and perseverance; and that they had vastly overrated the importance of the Influential Man.
What had hitherto produced as much popular effect as any thing at the town-meetings, was a patriotic song, composed by Uncle Billy Pine, which will serve to show the literature of Quog, and which was frequently sung with great zest, and an overpowering chorus:
'So when the Session it came around,
All for to make laws for our town,
We made our laws, and thus did say,
You shall not take our common rights away:
Ti de id lo, ti de a!
You shall not take our common rights away.
'Now gentlemen, we are in duty bound,
To support the common rights of old Quog town;
And this we will do until doom's-day,
For we will not give our rights away.
Ti de id lo, ti de a!
For we will never give our rights away!'
The jingle of the above song, which consisted of a good many verses, and which was thoroughly learned by all the population of Quog, still sounded in the ears of the 'friends of education,' and they sincerely hoped that by the time of the approaching contest it would be forgotten.
The day at last arrived, the important day, and the townsmen, for want of a better covering, were assembled to vote beneath the open sky. The reform party were there in full force, and with an adequate degree of spirits. When other business had been transacted, the chairman said: