OLD HOMESTEAD 



of the pleasing things now to remember how the boys used to 

 compete for the favor of the school-ma'am. To be the school- 

 ma'am's pet was my ambition, as well as the ambition of many 

 other boys in the school. We carried her flowers, apples, 

 cherries and fruit of all kinds as it came along — anything and 

 everything that we could get hold of that we thought she would 

 enjoy — and we were more than pleased if the gift was accepted 

 graciously. Every little bit of news which we got hold of first 

 was communicated confidentially to her, even at the risk of being 

 called ''tattle-tale." 



There was no well at the school-house, and the water had to 

 be brought from my father's well. It was considered a pleasure 

 to go for a big pail of water up to Deacon Lyman's well, wind 

 the same up from its cool depths on the old windlass, and after 

 having brought it back to the school-house, to be honored for 

 the service by being appointed water-passer. To do this we 

 used a big tin cup in which it was dipped from the pail, and in 

 a most polite manner first passed to the school-ma'am, then 

 around the whole school-house to every one who was thirsty, and 

 it seemed that every one was always thirsty, and the cup had to 

 go back and forth a dozen times before all were served. That 

 was before the days of microbes. 



Once Emory Barton had a long crying-spell because he, hav- 

 ing gone for the water, was denied the coveted pleasure of pass- 

 ing the same to the school-ma'am and to the scholars; and all 

 through life, whenever I have seen a grown person fretting over 

 some fancied slight or neglect, or failure to recognize his merits 

 or ambitions, I have said to myself, ''He wants to pass the 

 water to the school-ma'am." 



The play about this old school-house was modified and largely 

 determined by the surroundings. There was a nice creek under 



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