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Wood, Eugene, 1860-1923

"Back Home"

You will see little figures picking
their way along the miry roads, or ploughing through the deep drifts,
cutting across the fields, all drawing to the school-house, Bub in
his wammus and his cowhide boots, his cap with ear-laps, a knitted
comforter about his neck, and his hands glowing in scarlet mittens;
and little Sis, in a thick shawl, trudging along behind him, stepping
in his tracks. They chirrup, "Good-morning, sir!" As far as you
can see them you have to watch them, and something rises in your
throat. Lord love 'em! Lord love the children!
And then it comes to you, and it makes you catch your breath to
think of it, that every two or three miles all over this land,
wherever there are children at all, there is the Old Red
Schoolhouse. At this very hour a living tide, upbearing the hopes
and prayers of God alone knows how many loving hearts, the tide
on which all of our longed-for ships are to come in, is setting
to the school-house. Oh, what is martial glory, what is conquest
of an empire, what is state-craft alongside of this? Happy is
the people that is in such a case!
The city schools are now the pattern for the country schools: but
in my day, although a little they were pouring the new wine of
frothing educational reform into the old bottles, they had not
quite attained the full distention of this present.


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