THE 



NATURE-STUDY REVIEW 



Vol. 14 November, 191S No. 8 



The Story of the Little Red Schoolhouse 



Editha S. Campbell 

 Erie, Pa. 



Once upon a time there was a little red school house, built 

 of red brick. And fifty years had passed over its shingled roof. 

 The one room was drab — as near as one could tell, — drab like 

 the school-life of the children who had come and gone through 

 the one brown door for all those years. 



Teachers had come and teachers had gone, some bringing 

 light and joy to the old four walls and interest in the 'readin', 

 'ritin' and 'rithmetic, the children were required to learn. 



The community was made up of hard-working plodding farmers, 

 not very prosperous, and like the rest of us, until shown a more 

 profitable way — each was treading in the old, old path. 



We all know how little of outside interest comes into the life 

 of the country man, woman and child. Now in the opinion of 

 the writer, the very best of everything, books, lectures, and lecture- 

 slides should be taken to the country. City people have their 

 libraries, art-galleries, good amusements, so many, many things 

 to waken their minds and educate them. 



There was one member of the community who having become 

 interested in the school and the need and hunger for good reading, 

 began to work and plan and soon a little circulating library was 

 established. The librarian of a city library- and her assistant 

 were most kind in helping out the private books which had formed 

 the library nucleus. The hunger grew, fathers and mothers 

 sent for books, and the number of books was increased from a 

 hundred to almost two hundred. This work was intended for 

 special attention after the school session; but the teachers of 

 that winter were open to new interests, so on the day of the 

 establishment of the open book-case, the last period was given 

 over to reading and a story hour was started. The stories were 



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