  O worthy friends, at last we’ve met again; I feel that we have met in days before; And hope as gladly now as we did then, To contemplate some things in days of yore; In those days when our parents still were young, And we in youth around the school house swung. It won’t take long—a fleet winged hour or two— So, let us raise the curtain of the past, And bring again those good old days to view, Which are long fled in years that sped too fast; Let us together take a pleasant trip On mem’ry’s wings for kind companionship. In those good times of years long, long ago Were many hardships, that we should forget; But still, among these troubles, toils, and woe, Were sunny spots that will delight us yet. And one of those affected by this rule Is the old time rollicking spelling school. The young folks of today would scarcely guess Their fathers and their mothers, in those times, Could stand for hours the stern onslaught and stress Of stubborn words, in long contending lines— Arranged around the dingy school house wall To see who was the speller best of all. The country school was then the favorite nook— A kind of home spun university— Where old and young their worth in spelling book Exhibited in a friendly rivalry. And those of later times, of course, don’t know What they without these sports sadly forego. Those spelling schools did more in their plain ways For all young folks, than now is done for few, In costly schools, in these progressive days— And they were common once. West of the Blue, There were five districts that were wont to meet In contest in this most delightful feat. Blue Valley and Deer Creek lay to the north; Each one a ready, lusty vanquisher; And smiling Prairie Gem lay to the south; Raemer Creek on the west, now Herkimer; And Pleasant Ridge, my rural alma mater, In midst of all, and just a trifle greater. When corn was husked and hard farm work was done, The winter evenings long and restless grew; Then country folks would long for that blithe fun That they before from the quaint school house drew. Some teachers then with pupils did contrive To hold a spelling school among the five. And these were founts of pleasure, sparkling, sweet, To which the neighboring schools invited were. The purpose was in spelling them to beat; And therein lay the honors striven for. For those events the spelling book was learned Complete, and bowls of midnight oil were burned. ’Twas wont for parents to pronounce at home Words by the pages to their children then; Until McGuffey’s text by heart was known— By the whole household, even the hired men. No wonder that we heard old settlers tell: “In those wise days people knew how to spell.” The district that would entertain the rest Of schools, gratis prepared a play program— Of songs and declamations, the very best, And dialogs in which much laughter ran. Herein, no doubt, young Thespians took part Who through hearty encore obtained their start. Those spelling bees! O, with what rare delight, For weeks ahead we them anticipated! They were the magnets of those winter nights; No storm or cold them e’er obliterated. When those glad nights came, countless faces beamed In country school houses where bright lights gleamed. Altho ’twas long ago, still I recall The happy crowds within those temples wee; And marvel how they could contain them all; But they were all on hand, and so were we. In an old adage you know it is told: “Many gentle sheep go in a small fold.” The old time songs were with much pleasure fraught, When by gray-haired sires or sweet maidens sung; The dialogs oft bursts of laughter brought, As actors new their characters well flung. And ne’er did foot lights play house Booths enfire As wild applause did our young stars inspire. No scroll of Prairie Gem would be complete That not of Mrs. Jeffry’s actors told; Or Cottrell’s pupils invincible and sweet, That oft at bay contending lines did hold: For Golden Valley, where these districts lay, Well knew these folks could ably spell and play. This part could boast of sturdy families; Yet modestly these bore their worthy lots: Stauffachers, Guises, Brennans, Babbisches, Murphys, Armstrongs, Yaussis, Jeffrys and Otts; Pachas and Trienens, Seematters and Dow; And others that I have forgotten now. And Herkimer should ever brightly shine For blithe savants: Carbott and McConnaughey; No school house feast could glow without their chime— Their choral gems and jocund roundelay. And over many snowy miles we’d swing To hear these two declaim, debate, or sing. Its violin players were hard to beat: Whoe’er heard Clark Stewart play “The Mocking Bird” At spelling schools, they heard a heavenly treat: To be enraptured was but to have heard. Here, likewise, too, held voluptuous sway The Schumacher dulcet stringed orchestra. This district had its great families too: The Runkles, Schumachers and Dorfeners; Niemanns, Emmerts, Kellers, Hickeys and True, Lyndes, Amelunxens, Koenekes, Raemers— Most, pioneers who in the sixties came, And helped the prairie’s wild frontier to tame. And Deer Creek! fairest district of the dell! If spelled with “a” instead of “e” no seer Could have objected: here did truly dwell A hundred pretty girls for ev̵
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