Academic Memories
Chenango Semi-Weekly Telegraph, Norwich, NY, March 24, 1877
"Time is a handbreadth, 'tis a tale; / 'Tis a vessel under sail, / 'Tis an eagle on its way."
Ever on the wind and brings again the close of the term in Norwich Academy [Chenango Co. NY]. The first Monday in the month of December in the year 1842, and the writer of these lines was the first scholar that entered this building. With a schoolmate, bright and early upon that Monday morning, through banks of snow upon every side, I ran, for in those days girls and boys both ran, being the fastest on the pace, when my friend was at the gate I was at the door, and after two or three hard knocks with my slate the door was opened and away we flew to the top of the building, taking note of the third story, then down to the basement even, then the cellar, and back to the ladie's chapel, when we selected our seats and waited the coming of our dear teachers.
I cannot claim to be the first graduate, for two aspiring youths, one the son of the Presbyterian minister and the other, now the editor of the Telegraph, had gone up in the belfry before the floors had been laid and having then the spirit of Young America to rush things, had slipped upon the ladder and young Sessions brought up in the cellar, while Gage Berry hung to the round, and still adheres to the old watchword, "Excelsior." The first term opened with Benjamin F. Taylor, A.M., Principal; William W. Robinson, A.B., Assistant; Miss Harriet A. Dillaye, Principal of the female department; Miss Susan Austin, (now Mrs. H. Hubbard) Assistant; Mavia L. Weston, teacher of music, painting and drawing. It numbered 140 students the first week and increased to nearly three hundred before the year closed. But Alas!
"Time's an arrow in its flight; / 'Tis a short lived, fading flower; / 'Tis a rainbow on a shower; / 'Tis a torrent's rapid stream, / 'Tis a shadow, 'tis a dream; / 'Tis a bubble, 'tis a sigh"
Of all that band of teachers and scholars, where are they? and echo answers, "Where?" One teacher claims Norwich as a home, and a few of my old schoolmates remain in and about the town. As I enter here after an absence of twenty-eight years, I hear again the same pieces spoken I heard then. I listen to the same old bell ring out the invitation to come, and the tones revibrate back from the hills of Chenango. The same blue heavens are above. The same sun rises in the morning that did when I hurried with my books, to answer "present" in the chapel. The same moon rises at night that rose so bright when we all came together to "choose sides" and "spell," and a more "momentous time" was that than any Returning Board, Electoral Commission, or Inauguration can ever be. The same beautiful stars gem the sky that sparkled and twinkled when we met in the Academy yard to find "Old Orion" the "big and little dipper," or "Taums." Yes, Time ever on the wing, and many a star has fallen, many a bright light has been extinguished by a shroud, many an old comrade has fought his last battle and died as a soldier dies, and the mates of my youth are scattered far and wide. But shall we not cherish still the hope we fain would think as given, that "those we know and love on earth, will know and love in Heaven." But I would say one word to those who are climbing the hill of knowledge, and are to separate, perhaps for a few days, it may be forever. Enjoy the present, make hay while the sun shines, strive to improve the golden opportunities that you now enjoy. Remember you are upon a broad road, the tracks are laid of the best material, the bridges are built upon a firm foundation. The President and stockholders are learned and efficient, but you must all run your own engine, when you leave the yard. You have your choice, whether you will run a "dummy" or genuine steaming, whistling, rumbling, crashing, smashing, fizzing, shining engine. You may choose freight of passenger, cattle or repairing, Mail or Pacific Express, but you must keep the steam on a lever, not too high, not too low, have the right firemen, and a trusty and strong brakeman, but 'tis you to blow the whistle, to ring the bell, to make the smoke curl in wreaths to the very Heavens, or in a grand smash, shipwreck the train, and with surging waves and the crackling flames run no more. Remember, keep a close watch, the night may be dark, but lanterns are burning, the signals are up and if an accident will happen, jump for your lives; but bear in mind you alone are responsible for the fire box, and once burned out can never be repaired.
As I enter these dear old walls once again, all my old schoolmates are here with me. I am borne back to the days of my early years, and with feelings too deep for utterance, I note the change in all things, aye, even in my own self. The trees which will soon robe themselves for Spring and Summer, I helped plant and water, and the yard and walks I have swept many a time. Yes, even the halls and floors of the whole building have been swept and moped by two of us schoolgirls. The roses have been planted, the grass seed sown, the desks scrubbed, the curtains washed, and the tables set and waited upon by twelve of us girls and boys for one of our closing parties. Well do I remember the last supper, the Summer of 1850, when the appointed committee thought to treat themselves for the labor of the evening before, and having put the house in order and washing all the dishes, we have just settled ourselves to an extra, when behold the face of the Principal appeared at the window. But now I look in vain for one of those students. I think but three of that company remain in town, and the dear Preceptress who was with us, has, with more than half of that merry band, gone to that better land, and now wear the golden crowns, which it is my earnest prayer shall be given to all teachers and scholars who have ever been enrolled upon the books of Norwich Academy. I look in vain for our library, with its neatly arranged shelves of books, its cupboard for each and everything, even the "words that breathe and thoughts that burn" of those days, had a corner of that cupboard. But the saw and the hammer have done their work and whoever in their desire to improve, tore up that carpet and desecrated those walls must have strange ideas of reform and improvement. No wonder the scales have fallen from the hand of the figure of justice upon the dome of yonder courthouse, and she stands looking Heaven ward for mercy to take the place of the long since departed justice.
Of the twenty-four trustees who planned, protected and watched over the Academy for fifteen or twenty years, I believe but three now are living. Thus, we see the footprints of time upon everything. Thus, the old bell now rings, "Passing away, passing away," and with many a sigh for the days of "Auld Lang Syne," I exclaim in the language of the motto now adorning the chapel "That day will never dawn again." Good-bye old Norwich Academy.
H.A.M.
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