The days were all alike to her, The evenings just the same, And neither brought a change to us And then we had a "spelling match," And learned the sounds of A The months and weeks that made the year, And on that day we saw her smile No other time smiled she "Twas then she told us learnedly When next "leap-year" would be. Alas, kind soul, though leap-year came But now indeed her toils are o'er, Her lessons all are said, Her rules well learned, her words well spelled She's gone up to the head. We now return to our English authorities for the character and social standing of the schoolmistress of former days. HENRY KIRKE WHITE thus commemorates the "village matron," of Nottingham, Mrs. Garrington, who introduced him into the mysteries of alphabetic lore: In yonder cot, along whose mouldering walls, Staid was the dame, and modest was the mien, Beneath her chin was pinn'd with decent care; And pendant ruffles of the whitest lawn, Of ancient make her elbows did adorn. Faint with old age, and dim were grown her eyes; The low vestibule of learning's fane Entered with pain, yet soon I found the way, Much did I grieve on that ill-fated morn When I was first to school reluctant borne ; Severe I thought the dame, though oft she tried To soothe my swelling spirits when I sighed, And oft, when harshly she reproved, I wept To my lone corner broken-hearted crept And thought of tender home, where anger never kept; But, soon inured to alphabetic toils, Alert I met the dame with jocund smiles First at the form, my task for ever true, A little favorite rapidly I grew; And oft she strok'd my head, with fond delight Talked of the honors of my future days. REY GEORGE CRABBE, the poet of homely life, in his description of the Borough, in speaking of the "Poor and their Dwellings," pays a passing tribute of respect and gratitude to his first teacher: At her old house, her dress, her air the same, I see mine ancient letter-loving dame : "Learning, my child," said she, "shall fame command; For houses perish, lands are gone and spent ; In learning then excel, for that's most excellent." "And what her learning !"-Tis with awe to look In every verse throughout one sacred book From this her joy, her hope, her peace is sought; If aught of mine have gained the public ear; I labored on to reach the final zad? Shall I not grateful still the dame survey, And feel the pleasing debt, and pay the just applause. To her own house is borne the week's supply; There she in credit lives, there hopes in peace to die. Again, in his Parish Register he gives us a pleasing picture of the Good Schoolmistress, out of school hours: -With due respect and joy, I trace the matron at her loved employ ; What time the striplings wearied down with play, Part at the closing of the summers' day, And each by different path returned the well-known way. (2.) “And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree." THE BIRCH has attained a place in English life and literature hardly surpassed by any other tree. It figures in name and in fact-in prose and verse-in matters sacred and profane. Our readers, many of whom, must have a traditional reverence for this emblem of magisterial authority in the school-room, may be pleased with a few of the many references to its manifold uses and virtues as described by the classic authors of our language, as well as with specimens of the wit and poetry which it has inspired. It had place in the popular festivities of May-day, and of Mid-Summer's Eve, and Christmas. Owen, in his Welsh Dictionary defines Bedwen, a birch tree, by "a May-pole, because it is always made of birch." Stowe, in his "Survey of London," tells us "that on the vigil of St. John Baptist, every man's door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, &c., garnished with garlands of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass with oil burning in them all night." Coles, in his "Adam in Eden," says—“ [ remember once as I rid through little Brickhill in Buckinghamshire, every sign-post in the towne almost, was bedecked with green birch," on Mid-Summer Eve. Coles quaintly observes among the civil uses of the birch tree, "the punishment of children, both at home and at school; for it hath an admirable influence on them when they are out of order, and therefore some call it make peace." In some sections, on Christmas Eve, a nicely bound bundle of birchen twigs with one end immersed in cake or frosted sugar, was placed in the stockings of naughty boys. In "Whimsies," or a New Cast of Characters, (1631,) mention is made of the birchpole, as having been set up before ale-houses for a sign,—as a bush of some kind was formerly hung over the door of wine-shops,-whence came the proverb, "good wine needs no bush." Pope introduces one of his heroes with " His beaver'd brow a birchen garland bears." Roger Ascham, in his "Toxophilus or Schole of Shootinge," enumerates it among "the kinde of wood, whereof the shaft is made"-" being both strong enough to stand in a bowe, and light enough to fly far." Of its use in archery, Spencer, in the "Faerie Queene," speaks of "the birch for shafts" in the equipment of one of his characters. Shakspeare has not forgot its disciplinary use, (in Measure for Measure, Act I., Sen. 2d.) "Now as fond fathers, Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their childrens' sight For terror, not for use in time the rod Becomes more mocked than used." The scholastic uses of the birch have been celebrated not only in occasional stanzas, but constitute the inspiration and burden of poems devoted exclusively to its praise. Rev. Henry Layng, Fellow of New College, Oxford, published in 1754, Oxford, a poem entitled The Rod, a poem in three cantos, 4to, 46 pages." It has an advertisement of three pages, deprecating the imputation of any personal allusions or designs to encourage school rebellions. It has also a frontispiece, representing two youths, one standing, the other sitting on a form, and before them the figure of an ass, erect on his hind legs, clothed in a pallium (the dress of a Doctor at Oxford.) A birch, doctorial hat, and books, lettered Priscian and Lycophron, form the base; and on the ribbon above is the legend, "An ass in the Greek pallium teaching." The following is a specimen of the spirit and humor of the poem, being a description of the birch tree. "A tree there is, such was Apollo's will, That grows uncultured on the Muses' Hill, These characters observ'd thy guide shall be, Unerring guide to the mysterious tree. So when the priestess at the Delphic shrine, We find in the London Notes and Queries-from which the above notice and extrac is taken, the following lines. THE BIRCH: A POEM. Written by a Youth of thirteen. Though the Oak be the prince and the pride of the grove, The emblem of power and the fav'rite of Jove; The Birch, they affirm, is the true tree of knowledge, 'Mongst the leaves are conceal'd more than mem'ry can mention, All cases, all genders, all forms of declension. Nine branches, when cropp'd by the hands of the Nine, And duly arranged in a parallel line, Tied up in nine folds of a mystical string And soak'd for nine days in cold Helicon spring, Form a sceptre composed for a pedagogue's hand, Like the Fasces of Rome, a true badge of command. The sceptre thus finish'd, like Moses's rod, Should Genius a captive in sloth be confined, And if Morpheus our temple in Lethe should steep, Here dwells strong conviction-of Logic the glory, I've known a short lecture most strangely prevail, By sympathy thus, and consent of the parts, The birch can correct them, like guaiacum wood: This bundle of rods may suggest one reflection, Of peace and good fellowship these are a token, For the twigs, well united, can scarcely be broken. Then, if such are its virtues, we'll bow to the tree, This poem was written by Rev. Thomas Wilson, B. D., Head-master of Clitheroe Grammar School, Lancashire, in 1784, and first published in Adam's Weekly Courant, July 25, 1786. See Notes and Queries, Vol. x. p. 432. HOOD, in his whimsical and comic stanzas indulges in frequent allusions to the school where he "was birched," and contrives to extract some sweet out of the bitter discipline of his school days: "Ay, though the very birch's smart Should mark those hours again; |