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The great snow battle

The memory of man, even that of the Oldest Inhabitant, runneth not back to the time when there did not exist a feud between the North End and the South End boys of Rivermouth.

The origin of the feud is involved in mystery; it is impossible to say which party was the first aggressor . . . → Read More: The great snow battle

An Old Man’s Thought of School

An old man’s thought of School; an old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.

Now only do I know you! O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass!

And these I see—these sparkling eyes, these stores of mystic meaning—these young lives, building, equipping, like a fleet of ships—immortal . . . → Read More: An Old Man’s Thought of School

School days, school days, good old golden-rule days

The original cover of the song, 1907

This was a popular song for generations. You can hear it here.

School days, school days Dear old golden rule days Readin’ and ‘ritin’ and ‘rithmetic Taught to the tune of the hickory stick You were my queen in calico I was your bashful barefoot . . . → Read More: School days, school days, good old golden-rule days

In Schooldays

Haverhill, Massachusetts, where Whittier grew up

Still sits the school-house by the road, a ragged beggar sleeping; around it still the sumacs grow, and blackberry-vines are creeping.

Within, the master’s desk is seen, deep-scarred by raps official; the warping floor, the battered seats, the jack-knife’s carved initial;

the charcoal frescoes on its wall; its . . . → Read More: In Schooldays

Rebecca and the water pail

[Setting: A one-room schoolhouse in Maine, ca 1900]

The little schoolhouse with its flagpole on top and its two doors in front, one for boys and the other for girls, stood on the crest of a hill, with rolling fields and meadows on one side, a stretch of pine woods on the other, and the . . . → Read More: Rebecca and the water pail

The penalty of genius

The Penalty of Genius

“When little ‘Pollus Morton he’s a-go’ to speak a piece, w’y, nen the Teacher smiles an’ says ‘at she’s most proud, of all her little men

an’ women in her school—’cause ‘Poll he allus speaks the best of all. An’ nen she’ll pat him on the cheek, an’ hold her . . . → Read More: The penalty of genius

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Etiam pulvinar consectetur dolor sed malesuada. Ut convallis euismod dolor nec pretium. Nunc ut tristique massa.

Nam sodales mi vitae dolor ullamcorper et vulputate enim accumsan. Morbi orci magna, tincidunt vitae molestie nec, molestie at mi. Nulla nulla lorem, suscipit in posuere in, interdum non magna.