LETTER XI. Up-town and Down-town-East End and West End-Master Stebbins—A Model Schoolmaster-The School-house-Administration of the SchoolZeek Sanford-School-books-Arithmetic-History-Grammar—Anecdote of G.... H......-Country Schools of New England in these Days -Master Stebbins's Scholars. MY DEAR C****** Ridgefield, as well as most other places, had its Up-town and Down-town- terms which have not unfrequently been the occasion of serious divisions in the affairs of Church and State. In London this distinction takes the name of West End and the City. The French philosophers say that every great capital has similar divisions-West End being always the residence of the aristocracy and East End of the canaille. They affirm that it is not only so in fact as to London, Paris, Vienna, and other capitals of the present day, but that it was so in Rome, Athens, Babylon, and Nineveh of old. This they explain by a general law, pervading all countries and all ages, which establishes a current of air from west to east, thus ventilating and purifying the one, and charging the other with the fuliginous vapors of a crowded population. Hence, they say that not only cities must have their West End and East End, but that houses should be built on the same principle-the parlor to the west and the kitchen to the east. This is surely laying deep the foundations of the patrician and plebeian divisions of society. Whether our great American cities furnish any support to this ingenious theory, I leave to be determined by the philosophers. I shall only venture to remark that Ridgefield, being a village, had a right to follow its own whim, and therefore West Lane, instead of being the aristocratic end of the place, was really rather the low end. It constituted in fact what was called Down-town, in distinction from the more eastern and northern section, called Up-town. In this latter portion, and about the middle of the main street, was the Up-town school, the leading seminary of the village, for at this period it had not arrived at the honors of an academy. At the age of ten years I was sent here, the institution being then, and many years after, under the charge of Master Stebbins. He was a man with a conciliating stoop in the shoulders, a long body, short legs, and a swaying walk. He was, at this period, some fifty years old, his hair being thin and silvery, and always falling in well-combed rolls, over his coat-collar. His eye was blue, and his dress invariably of the same. color. Breeches and knee-buckles, blue-mixed stockings, and shoes with bright buckles, seemed as much a part of the man as his head and shoulders. On the whole, his appearance was that of the middleclass gentleman of the olden time, and he was in fact what he seemed. This seminary of learning for the rising aristocracy of Ridgefield was a wooden edifice, thirty by twenty feet, covered with brown clapboards, and except an entry, consisted of a single room. Around, and against the walls ran a continuous line of seats, fronted by a continuous writing-desk. Beneath, were depositories for books and writing materials. The center was occupied by slab seats, similar to those of West Lane. The larger scholars were ranged on the outer sides, at the desks; the smaller fry of a-b-c-darians were seated in the center. The master was enshrined on the east side of the room, contrary, be it remembered, to the law of the French savans, which places dominion invariably in the west. Regular as the sun, Master Stebbins was in his seat at nine o'clock, and the performances of the school began. According to the Catechism-which, by the way, we learned and recited on Saturday-the chief end of man was to glorify God and keep his commandments: according to the routine of this school, one would have thought it to be reading, writing, and arithmetic, to which we may add spelling. From morning to night, in all weathers, through every season of the year, these exercises were carried on with the energy, patience, and perseverance of a manufactory. Master Stebbins respected his calling: his heart was in his work; and so, what he pretended to teach, he taught well. When I entered the school, I found that a huge stride had been achieved in the march of mind since I had left West Lane. Webster's Spellingbook had taken the place of Dilworth, which was a great improvement. The drill in spelling was very thorough, and applied every day to the whole school. I imagine that the exercises might have been amusing to a stranger, especially as one scholar would sometimes go off in a voice as grum as that of a bull-frog, while another would follow in tones as fine and piping as a peet-weet. The blunders, too, were often ineffably ludicrous; even we children would sometimes have tittered, had not such an enormity been certain to have brought out the birch. As to rewards and punishments, the system was this: whoever missed went down; so that perfection mounted to the top. Here was the beginning of the up and down of life. Reading was performed in classes, which generally plodded on without a hint from the master. Nevertheless, when Zeek Sanford*-who was said to have a streak of lightning in him-in his haste to be smart, * Ezekiel Sanford was a son of Colonel Benjamin Sanford, of Reading. The latter married a daughter of Col. David Olmstead, of Ridgefield, a man of great respectability: after residing a few years here, he removed to Onondaga county, New York, and thence to Philadelphia, and afterward to Germantown, where he died about thirty years ago. Ezekiel, our schoolmate, was a lad of great spirit and excellent capacity. He was educated at Yale College, and was there noted as a promising writer. He subsequently became editor of the Eclectic Magavine at Philadelphia, and in 1819, published a History of the United States before the Revolution, with some account of the Aborigines. Having studied law, he removed to Columbia, South Carolina, where he died about the year 1825. This seminary of learning for the rising aristocracy of Ridgefield was a wooden edifice, thirty by twenty feet, covered with brown clapboards, and except an entry, consisted of a single room. Around, and against the walls ran a continuous line of seats, fronted by a continuous writing-desk. Beneath, were depositories for books and writing materials. The center was occupied by slab seats, similar to those of West Lane. The larger scholars were ranged on the outer sides, at the desks; the smaller fry of a-b-c-darians were seated in the center. The master was enshrined on the east side of the room, contrary, be it remembered, to the law of the French savans, which places dominion invariably in the west. Regular as the sun, Master Stebbins was in his seat at nine o'clock, and the performances of the school began. According to the Catechism-which, by the way, we learned and recited on Saturday-the chief end of man was to glorify God and keep his commandments: according to the routine of this school, one would have thought it to be reading, writing, and arithmetic, to which we may add spelling. From morning to night, in all weathers, through every season of the year, these exercises were carried on with the energy, patience, and perseverance of a manufactory. Master Stebbins respected his calling: his heart was in his work; and so, what he pretended to teach, he taught well. When I entered the school, I found |