466 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 9 1885. 



» 



Address all com»u<Hicatio7is to the Forest and Stream .Publish- 

 ing Co. 



A SCHOOL MEETING IN DISTRICT 13. 



FOR a week before the first Tuesday in the April of a 

 certain year half a lifetime ago, the battered door of 

 the shabby old school house in District 13 of the township 

 of Danvis, bore a conspicuous patch of white paper among 

 its scratches, bruises and awkwardly carved initials. Some 

 wayfarers knew at first sight what this early spring blossom- 

 ing of the school house door, heralded; those who did not or 

 hoped that it might advertise a "slayth o' hand show" or "a 

 'stronermy lectur'," or "temp'unce meetin'," found upon 

 examination that it warned the "legil voters in school meeting 

 in Dist. 13 in the town of Danvis to mete in the school 

 house in sd. dist. on Tuesday eveniug, Aperil3," etc., etc. 



Accordingly on the evening named in the warning, as the 

 dismal landscape of the season grew dim in the twilight, the 

 little building was illuminated by four candles, and the 

 cracked, rusty stove glowed with fervent heat, for the com- 

 mittee and the "deestrick dark" had not been negligent of 

 their duty, and having lighted the candles and the tire, now 

 sat gazing thoughtfully, or with absence of thought, at the 

 stove while they waited the coming of their neighbors. 

 Presently, announcing their arrival with more than needful 

 stamping and scraping of boots, there entered nearly all the 

 legal voters of the district and almost as many boys, for 

 without the presence of this non- voting but not altogether 

 silent element, no school meeting had ever yet been held in 

 District 13. Uncle Lisha Peggs, the eordwainer, was there, 

 and Solon Briggs, the man of big if not weighty words, and 

 Joseph Hill, and his aged sire whom Ethau Alien had as- 

 sisted in the capture of Ticonderoga, and who had fought at 

 Hubbardton and Bennington, and had ever since been 

 ready to take a hand in any fight, whether of words or 

 deeds. There were also present Samuel Lovel, the hunter, 

 and his companion Drive, the. hound, who took now no 

 active part in the proceedings, but got himself under the stove 

 and toasted his gaunt ribs with exceeding comfort while he 

 bided his time. Loud and forthputting there was Beri 

 Burton, an uncouth giant, who had not long been a resident, 

 having moved into the township from no one knew where, 

 and who had the air of being burdened with a grievance and 

 the mal-odor of "spiljn' for a fight." Gran'ther Hill set his 

 toothless jaws as he rested his chin upon his cane, and glow- 

 ered at him as he could not have done more savagely at his 

 ancient bitterest, enemies, the Tories and Indians. Antoine 

 Bisette, the Canadian, attended the meeting, not a voter, 

 but interested as a furnisher of scholars, for every year was 

 added oue more black-polled, bare-footed toddler to his 

 dusky brood that came jabbering along the dusty summer 

 road 'to the old school house. 



Joel Bartlett, "dark of the deestrick," was a staid Quaker, 

 whose mouth was made up for a whistle that the strictness 

 of his religious views had never permitted him to utter, and 

 he wore a wide-brimmed hat always abroad and much at 

 home, and almost as constantly as this and the pucker of his 

 lips, a coat supposed to be somewhat like that of George Fox, 

 the founder of his sect. "Samule," he said, when after sit- 

 ting some time in silence his attention was attracted by the 

 hound's yelping and pawing the air in pursuit of a shadowy 

 fox on the hills of dreamland, "thy dawg appears kind 'er 

 lanky, 's 'ough he hed n't wintered fust rate. Thee feeds him, 

 I hope?" 



"Feed 'im!" said Sam, indignant at such an imputation on 

 his treatment of his friend. ' 'The' haint a day goes over 

 Drives's head 'at he don't hev a johnny cake baked for 'im, 

 an' he gits it, too. The trouble' with Drive is, he's ben a 

 preachin' raound hum all winter, a prophet 'thaout honor in 

 bis own country, ye know, an' not much profit to his marster. 

 Mebby you've tiearn him holdin' forth on Hawgs Back an' 

 raound." He's got kinder thin duin' so much for so little, 

 for he ain't no hirelin' minister, an' dou't git nothin' but his 

 board for his sarvices. Tow-ward the latter eend o' nex' 

 month, Fif month, I'm a goin' to start him off for yearly 

 meetin', to New York or Newport, an' if he don't fat up 

 there, I'm a goin' to git him recommended, an' hev 'im git a 

 consarn to go on a visit to Friends. to tbe east'ard. Ef that 

 don't git 'im in good trim, I'll disown 'im, for he can't 

 'predate blessin's, an' haint fit to be a member 'mong 

 Friends." 



"Wal, Samule," said Joel, with a twinkle iu his eyes, "if 

 thy dawg has ben a preachin' anything weighty, I'm afeared 

 his marster's ears hes been closed, an' I think he better con- 

 tinner a sowin' the seed to hum, an' if the graound is barrern 

 keep a harrerin of it in." 



The men laughed, and the boys snickered in the dark 

 corners, and Joel rising and looking around said, "I think 

 everybody is present 'at 's 'xpected, an' perhaps the meetin' 

 might as well be called t' odder. Friends '11 please come t' 

 odaer." 



All but himself took off their hats, and the whish of the 

 boys' whispering ceased while he slowly read the warning, 

 stooping to the nearest candle while he followed his fore- 

 finger along the lines. This ended, he said, "The fust thing 

 is to choose a mawdrator. Will some friend please nomer- 

 nate?" 



"Inomernate Solon Briggs," said Sam Lovel promptly, 

 and "I secont the motion," some one else said as promptly. 

 Then Joel proclaimed that Solon Briggs was "nomernated 

 and seeonted as mawdrator, an' them 'at favors him will say 

 aye." and there was a small thunder of ayes. 



"The contrayry minded will say no," and only Beri 

 Burton growled no. 



"You hev made chice of Solon Briggs to sarve you as 

 mawdrator," Joel announced, and Solon took his seat beside 

 the clerk. 



"In consumin' thispersition,"he said, slowly rising, and as 

 slowly grinding his palms together, "to which 1 was chose 

 unomynous without only one riisseminatiu' voice, 1 du it a 

 hopesin' 'at this meetin' will cornduck itself becomin' an' 

 harmonous an' proprietory; an' that them 'at is in the my- 

 nority will fee) as content to be minoritorious as them 'at is 

 in the may-jority will be to be majoritorious. An' we will 

 naow perceed to transack business. The fust thing on the 

 progerammy is to eleck a dark. Please nommernate a dark." 



"I guess," said Uncle Lisha, scraping the wax off his left 

 thumb with the nail of his right forefinger, and rolling it 

 into pellets which he dropped upon the floor, "I guess 'at 

 we'd better hev Joel. He's taown dark an' dark of his 

 meetin', an' ben deestrick dark this ever so long, an' so he's 

 got uster bein' dark, I nommernate Joel." Joel's nomina- 

 tion was seconded and he was elected, 



"The nex' thing," said Solon, "on the progerrammy— or 



things— is a committee, one, tu, or three, to sarve as com- 

 mittee for the pursuin' year," 



"Bein' 'at the' 's some," said Joseph Hill, propping him- 

 self into a half standing position with his hands on the desks 

 each side of him, " 'at thinks we'd better not go t' the ex- 

 pense o* hirin' of a man, but better kinder git along wi' a 

 woman teacher this summer, an' the' 's some 'at don't, per- 

 haps we 'd better hev a committee 'at does or don't think so. 

 F' my part, I d' know 's it makes much diffunce to me. I 

 slrld'like to hev a good teacher cheap, or a cheap teacher, 

 an' hev him — her— it— a good one. I d' know 's care much 

 which sect the teacher is. I move 't we hev a man — or a 

 womern." 



"We do' wan' no schoolmom!" roared Beri Burton; "Gol 

 dum schoolmom!" 



"Afore we go any furder," said Joel Bartlett, rising and 



proper rega 



Bein' 'at we haint all o' one mind, we can't expeck to be all 

 on us suited ; an' them 'at haint raus' try an' bear their dis- 

 app'intment, an' them 'at is mus' try an' not kerry 'emselves 

 too high-headed." As he went on he unwittingly set his 

 words to the dolorous tune to which the movings of his spirit 

 went forth to those of his own belief on First day and Fifth 

 day meetings. "An', beloved friends, we must all on us, 

 them 'at is up an' them 'at is daown, indivor for to— ah— be 

 charitable an' kind an' forgivin', one untu another. A 

 speakin' for myself, I can say that I think a suitable young 

 womern 'ould arnswer aour purpose very well for the sum- 

 mer, as well as bein' more equinomical — " 



"Thar!" cried Beri Burtou , springing up like a gigantic 

 jack-in-a-box, and mumbling his words as if they were so 

 many hot potatoes, "thar, Misser Bartlutt, we do' wan' hear 

 no more your dum blob; we do' wan' no schoolmom, T tell 

 ye. Had un las' summer, didn't us, an' what kin' er teacher 

 was her? Why, noons an' art' school, an' boys aout an' gals 

 aout fo'uoon an' art'noon, the' was a feller— won't call no 

 names— 'at uster conic to schoolhaouse, 'n' him an' school- 

 mom 'Id go daown inter medder strawberrin'. Schoolmom 

 'Id rub strawbers on 'er cheeks an' that 'ere feller 'Id buss 

 'em off! Gol dum such schoolmom! Then 'ey 'd come up 

 tor schoolhaouse, an' that 'ere feller 'Id git a board an' run it 

 through the fence, an' schoolmom 'Id git out' one end on 't 

 an' he'd get ont' tother, an' then they'd go teeter-tawter-tee 

 ter, tawter! Gol dum such schoolmom. Do' wan' no more 

 on 'em !" 



"Ef I could on'y a hed that 'ere big heath in a front on 

 me to Hubbar'ton or Bennin'ton," said Gran'ther Hill in a 

 hoarse, whistling voice, "a painted an' feathered, er dressed 

 up in a red cut, he would n't a ben atroublin' 'on us to-night, 

 he would n't." 



"Ef I 'd ha knowed," retorted Beri, " 'at this was a goin' 

 to be a resurruction stiddy a reg'lar school meetin', I'd ha' 

 tooted up some o' my fo'fathers, or dug 'em up, an' brung 

 'em along to vote agin ye, ye pi' onbaried cuss." 



"Odder! Odder!" called Solon. 



"Forefathers!" sneered Sam Lovel, "Ye never hed none, 

 V f ye hed the'y be 'shamed o' yer com'pny. I say odder, 

 tu. He 's same 's a skeeter to me. I don't care nothin' baout 

 his bitin', but I do hate his cussed yowlin'." 



"Jozeff!" commanded the ancient warrior, "you kindei 

 stiddy me on my laigs so 's 't c'n run my cane through that 

 Hessian's in'ards!" 



"Wal, naow, no, father, I guess I wouldn't, not 'f I was 

 you," said his peaceable-minded son, "scem's 'ough I would 

 n't. 'F you sh'ld kill him, you'd git hung, 'n' that 'ould be 

 tumble disgraceful for a man o' your years, an' one 'at 'shed 

 such 'scaoes from Ticonderoge an' Hubbar'ton an' Bennin'- 

 ton. An 1 if you didn't, he might lick both on us, for I haint 

 so spry 's I was, an' that would be turrible onpleasant for us 

 an' turrible gratyfyin' for him. 1 haint no mind to give him 

 no sech satyfaction." 



' 'Bah goshr' screamed Antoine, spring to his feet and 

 dashing his tasseled woolen cap upon the floor, "Ah'll mek 

 it notion we ant have it no school, 'f 'e can' have it aout all 

 a tarn quarly, quarly! Ah'll mek it notion we ant have it 

 no school, me!" 



"Odder! Odder!" Solon shouted in a stern voice, "you're 

 aouten odder, Ant wine." 



"What for Ah'm aout norder, M'sieu Brigg, bein?" 



"Why, Antwine, you haint a legle voter in school meetin', 

 ye see, don't ye? It 'ould be a diabolishment of parlora- 

 mentary rules to 'low you to vote or speak. Ye haint never 

 ben nat'ralized, ye know." 



"Wal, Ah don' care'f Ah don' nat'ral lie, so much you do. 

 Ah'll show you jes' many chillun for go school any boddee, bah 

 gosh ! More of it all a tarn, evree year, evree year Ah guess 

 Ali m's more norder you was, M'sieu Biigg. You be inarree 

 more as Ah was. an' don' have it on'y but one chillun, bah 

 gosh !" and Antoine grasped the seat of his baggy trowsers 

 with both hands preparatory to jumping upon his cap. 



"Good airth an' seas!" Lisha roared in a voice that made 

 the cracked window panes jingle and brought down some 

 crumbs of plastering from the ceiling. "What's the motter 

 ails ye, all on ye? We never hed no sech cussed works 

 afore to a school meetin' sen I was ol' 'nough to go to one! 

 Ann Twine! You seddown an' shet up yer dum canuck 

 head! What's the motter ails ye?" 



"It all comes," said Solon, "o' hevin' this 'ere imported 

 disturbin' elephunt in aour midst of us, which we didn't 

 uster hev it prevariously before last year." 



What might then have happened if something else had 

 not presently happened will never be known. 



The men were growing angrier, and the repeated calls to 

 order by the moderator, the loud voices and warlike demon- 

 strations of their elders had hushed the boys in the back 

 seats to such silence as their exuberant spirits had seldom 

 known. Pelatiah Gove was the biggest of them, and having 

 ciphered to the rule of three, was therefore, unless he chose 

 to make his painful way further up the hill of learning to- 

 ward the temple of science pictured on the first page of the 

 spelling book, to be considered a graduate of the district 

 school.^ He was old enough to begin to think of the past, 

 but whether with any longing to recall it perhaps he could 

 not bimself quite tell. He sat in his old seat by the window, 

 vainly trying to accommodate his longer grown legs to then- 

 old position, and studying the initials and unmeaning devices 

 his iackknifc had carved in the noontimes and .stolen mo- 

 ments of past winters. He contrasted the present turbulent 

 sounds with the drowsy buzz of the flies on the windows in 

 the summer days when he so longed to go a-fishing in the 

 brook that shot its tantalizing glints through the stems and 

 shadows of the alders, and he turned his head to the win- 

 dow and looked toward the brook in a dreamy way. There 

 seemed not much in that direction now to tempt one away 

 from the warmth of the schoolhouse, only that its atmo- 



sphere was becoming a little too warm, and if there was 

 really to be what Pelatiah called "a reg'lar carummux," he, 

 being a lover of peace, would rather not be present. 



But something caught his abstracted gaze. He rubbed the 

 dusty pane and put a hollowed hand on either side of his 

 face, and looking intently counted one, two, three, four dark 

 objects moving slowly across the dingy snow and dun dead 

 grass of the fields, revealedwith dim distinctness in the clouded 

 moonlight. After a long look — though it was only a minute 

 — to verify his first suspicion, he jumped to his feet, in his 

 tangled haste almost tearing the desk from its place, shout- 

 ing, "'Coons! 'coons! f our on 'em a crossin' the road ! Come 

 on, all on ye! Here, Drive, sic 'em!" and made a dash for 

 the door, shouting as he went, and emphasizing his cails 

 with the thump! thump! of his heavy boots. "'Coons! 

 come Drive!" and Drive came suddenly out of dreamland 

 and shot through the open door in hot eagerness for game 

 more tangible than the phantoms of his sleep. Pelatiah and 

 the hound were followed in a mad rush by every one but the 

 moderator and the clerk. These two stood aghast at the 

 sudden breaking up of the meeting, and as Solon heard the 

 shouts of the men and boys, and the baying of the deep- 

 voiced hound coming fainter and fainter as they sped across 

 the fields in pursuit of their quarry, he said, turning to his 

 unmoved colleague, "The quorum has absquaterlated, an' I 

 pernounce this meetin' is a-journed, Simon Dyer!" 



And so he and Joel put out. the light and made the lire 

 safe, and themselves went out. As they paused listening on 

 the doorstep, with a human curiosity that neither the dignity 

 of office nor the precepts of a stern religion could quite re- 

 strain, the voices of the men and boys of the pursuing party 

 were hushed, and there was heard only the steady, insisting 

 baying of the hound, now evidently not moving any further 

 away, nor moving at all. 



"1 ruther guess," said Joel, with his best ear turned toward 

 the sound and his mouth more tightly puckered for the un- 

 voiced whistle; "I ruther guess the dawg has treed 'em, on- 

 less he's preachin' to Samule. Don't thee think we'd better 

 go an' see, Solon?" 



And so ended that school meeting in Dist. 13. 



DOWN THE SOUTH SASKATCHEWAN. 



IT was a bright Sunday morning toward the end of April 

 last that a small party were at breakfast, in a caboose on 

 the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway, at Swift Current. 

 We were talking about an encounter that had recently taken 

 place between a party of half-breeds and the force of 

 Canadian militia under General Middleton, and discussing 

 the probabilities of a steamer called the Northcote, which 

 had recently left the crossing on the South Saskatchewan 

 River, distant some thirty-three miles north, making her 

 way down the river successfully with her cargo of supplies 

 and reinforcements. A happy thought occurred to me, "Why 

 shouldn't I go down the river in a canoe I had with me." I 

 would be such an insignificant object that if there were 

 hostile Indians along the bank I would probably pass them 

 without being seen. I would see what the river was like 

 and how the steamer was getting on. So I broached the 

 subject, and after a little discussion with the General in com- 

 mand (who made one of our party) it was decided I should 

 start next morning. Then I set to work to make my prep- 

 arations, not without sundry misgivings as to my reaching 

 my destination, a sort of half regret that I had committed 

 myself and mental visions of wily Indians taking a pot shot 

 at the solitary navigator and sending him to the happy hunt- 

 ing grounds to paddle his own canoe at his leisure. The 

 distance from the Battleford Ferry on the South Saskattlie- 

 wan to Clark's Crossing, on the same river, fifteen miles 

 below which General Middleton was encamped, was esti- 

 mated to be about 220 miles. (The captain of the Northcote 

 in a subsequent conversation made it out to be over 300, but 

 the former estimate is probably tbe more correct.) The 

 steamer had made the voyage up the river the previous 

 autumn, how she would fare going down was a matter of 

 doubt. 



The canoe in which I proposed to take the cruise was a 

 canvas folding one built at Peterboro. Its dimensions were 

 12 feet in length, 30 inches in width, 12 inches in depth 

 amidships and 18 at stem and stern when set up; it weighed 

 about fifty pounds, with paddle, scat and flooring boards. 

 Some experience of river cruising has made me discard a 

 sail, except for a large open river such as the St. Lawrence, 

 and I trusted to my paddle alone on this as on other occa- 

 sions. The canoe was of the Canadian or birch bark model, 

 but I used the double-bladed paddle, taking also a single 

 blade in case of accidents. The rest of my outfit was simple, 

 consisting chiefly of blankets and an india-rubber sheet, 

 biscuits, tinned corn beef and fruit, tea and sugar. I took 

 no tent, and my cooking apparatus consisted of a tin pint 

 pot and a small spirit stove. I had a small revolver, but 

 didn't anticipate much benefit from it in the event of meeting 

 a hostile red man, as he would probably have got the drop 

 on me long befoie I sighted him. 



Behold me, then, next morning starting to drive to the 

 river. The General had kindly provided a "buckboard" 

 for my transport. To the side of this vehicle I tied my 

 canoe, of course folded in its bag, in which shape it some- 

 wbat resembled a bundle of sticks, and behind and under- 

 neath the seat 1 packed the rest of my dunnage. My friends 

 bid me good-bye with requests for locks of my scanty hair, 

 to leave as little as possible for the inhabitants of the coun- 

 try through which I was going to pass to exercise their 

 peculiar talents on, and off I started. The animal that drew 

 the vehicle was a mild and meek-looking specimen of the 

 Indian "kyuse," apparently broken down by hard work. 

 He had refused a meal of oats that had been set before him 

 upon starting; it was a luxury for which he hadn't acqnired 

 a taste. I took the trail northward, sufficiently marked by 

 the strings of vehicles passing over it. The prairie looked 

 barren enough in that locality, undulating into little bills 

 and ridges, in the hollows between which were collections 

 of melted snow or rain— "sloughs" or "slews" in the nom- 

 enclature of the Northwest. The country reminded me of 

 the table lands of Central India, except that the green 

 patches of cultivation and groves of trees which made 

 pleasant breaks in the dreary waste were absent On 

 the trail were numerous teams, some loaded with sup- 

 plies, others returning from the crossing empty. When 

 I had got twelve or fifteen miles on my way 1 got down 

 to adjust the package containing the canoe, which 

 tbe jolting over the road had loosened. I never thought 

 the " meek animal I had been driving would take an 

 unfair advantage of me, but he did. No sooner was I en- 

 u-ao-ed with both hands about the package than he humped 

 his" back, kicked up his heels and away went buckboard and 

 pony at a pace I should never have dreamed of him being 



