358 RURAL SOCIOLOGY 



Shortly after this, there came into my office one morning a 

 middle-aged man, handsome and intelligent in appearance. 

 While waiting for me to dispatch the business in hand, I gave 

 him two books. He fingered the leaves hurriedly, like a child, 

 turned the books over and looked at the backs, and laid them 

 down with a sigh. Knowing the scarcity of interesting reading 

 through the country, I proffered him the loan of these two books. 

 He shook his head, and said: "No, I cannot read or write." 

 And then the tears came into the eyes of that stalwart man, 

 and he added: "I would give twenty years of my life if I 

 could." 



A few evenings later I attended an entertainment in a rural 

 district school. A stalwart lad of twenty sang a beautiful bal- 

 lad, mostly original, but partly borrowed from his English an- 

 cestors. When he finished, amid deafening applause, I went 

 over and congratulated him. "Dennis, that was a beautiful bal- 

 lad it is worthy of publication. Will you write it down for 

 me?" "I would if I could write," he replied, crestfallen, "but 

 I cannot. I've thought of a hundred of 'em better 'n that, but 

 I 'd forget 'em before anybody came along to set 'em down. ' ' 



These three incidents led directly to the establishment of the 

 moonlight schools. Not merely the call of three individuals was 

 sounded, but the appeal of three classes: illiterate mothers sep- 

 arated from their absent children farther than sea or land or any 

 other condition than death; middle-aged men shut out from the 

 world of books and unable to cast their ballot with intelligence 

 and in secrecy and security ; young people who possess undevel- 

 oped talents which might yet be made to contribute much to 

 the world of literature, art, science or invention. 



The public school teachers of the county were called together. 

 These specific incidents were related to them, and the fact that 

 there were 1,152 such men and women whom the schools of the 

 past had left behind was dwelt upon. The teachers were asked 

 to volunteer for night service, to open their schools on moonlight 

 evenings to give these people a chance. 



This they cheerfully agreed to do, and on Labor Day, Septem- 

 ber 4, 1911, these teachers celebrated by visiting every farm- 

 house and every hovel, inviting people of all classes to attend 

 the moonlight schools which were to open their sessions the next 



