Part 42 (1/2)

Osborne, McCarty, Thornton and Spain, With their companions in suns.h.i.+ne and rain, Back in the seventies, might tell what befell At the ring of the old University bell.

The eighties came on and the roll-call grew longer Emboldened with learning, my voice rang the stronger; The day of Commencement saw young men and maids Proudly emerge from the cla.s.sic shades Where oft they had heard and heeded well The voice of the old University bell.

They bore me away to a shrine new and fine, Where the pilgrims of learning with yearning incline; Enwrapped they now seem, in a flowery dream, The stars of good fortune so radiant beam.

Of the long roll call not one is forgot, If sorrow beset them or happy their lot; My wandering children all love me so well, Their life-work done, they'll wish a soft knell Might be tolled by the old University bell.

Such is the force of habit that it was many years before I could shake off the inclination to obey the imperative summons of the old University bell.

With other small children, I ran about on the huge timbers of the foundation, in the dusk when the workmen were gone, glancing around a little fearfully at the dark shadows in the thick woods, and then running home as fast as our truant feet could carry us.

The laying of the cornerstone was an imposing ceremony to our minds and a significant as well as gratifying occasion to our elders.

The speeches, waving of flags, salutes, Masonic emblems and service with the music rendered by a fine choir, accompanied by a pioneer melodeon, made it quite as good as a Fourth of July.

All the well-to-do ranchers and mill men sent their children from every quarter. The Ebeys of Whidby Island, Hays of Olympia, Strongs of Oregon, Burnetts of down Sound and Dennys of Seattle, beside the children of many other prominent pioneers, received their introduction to learning beneath its generous shelter. A cheerful, energetic crowd they were with clear brains and vigorous bodies.

The school was of necessity preparatory; in modern slang, a University was rather previous in those days.

But all out-of-doors was greater than our books when it came to physical geography and natural history, to say nothing of botany, geology, etc.

Observing eyes and quick wits discovered many things not yet in this year of grace set down in printed pages.

A curious thing, and rather absurd, was the care taken to instruct us in ”bounding” New Hamps.h.i.+re, Vermont and all the rest of the Eastern states, while owing to the lack of local maps we were obliged to gain the most of our knowledge of Was.h.i.+ngton by traveling over it.

The first instruction given within its walls was in a little summer school taught by Mrs. O. J. Carr, which I attended.

Previous to this my mother was my patient and affectionate instructor, an experienced and efficient one I will say, as teaching had been her profession before coming west.

Asa Mercer was at the head of the University for a time, followed by W.

E. Barnard, under whose sway it saw prosperous days. A careful and painstaking teacher with a corps of teachers fresh from eastern schools, and ably seconded in his efforts by his lovely wife, a very accomplished lady, he was successful in building up the attendance and increasing the efficiency of the inst.i.tution. But after a time it languished, and was closed, the funds running low.

Under the Rev. F. H. Whitworth it again arose. It was then run with the common school funds, which raised such opposition that it finally came to a standstill.

D. T. Denny was a school director and county treasurer at the same time, but could not pay any monies to the University without an order from the county superintendent. On one occasion he was obliged to put a boy on horseback and send him eleven miles through the forest and back, making a twenty-two mile ride, to obtain the required order.

The children and young people who attended the University in the old times are scattered far and wide, some have attained distinction in their callings, many are worthy though obscure, and some have pa.s.sed away from earthly scenes.

We spoke our ”pieces,” delivered orations, wrote compositions, played ball games of one or more ”cats” and many old-fas.h.i.+oned games in and around the big building and often climbed up to the observatory to look out over the beautiful bay and majestic mountains. That glistening sheet of water often drew the eyes from the dull page and occasionally an unwary pupil would be reminded in a somewhat abrupt fas.h.i.+on to proceed with his researches.

One afternoon a boy who had been gazing on its changing surface for some minutes, caught sight of a government vessel rounding the point, and jumped up saying excitedly, ”There's a war s.h.i.+p a-comin'!” to the consternation though secret delight of the whole school.

”Well, don't stop her,” dryly said the teacher, and the boy subsided amid the smothered laughter of his companions.

Cupid sometimes came to school then, as I doubt not he does in these days, not as a learner but distracter--to those who were his victims.

It's my opinion, and I have it from St. Catherine, he should have been set on the dunce block and made to study Malthus.

Two notable victims are well remembered, one a lovely blonde young girl, a beautiful singer; the other as dark as a Spaniard, with melting black eyes and raven tresses. They did not wait to graduate but named the happy day. The blonde married a Democratic editor, well known in early journalism, the other a very popular man, yet a resident of Seattle.

The whole of the second story of the University consisted of one great hall or a.s.sembly room with two small ante-rooms. Here the school exhibitions were held, lectures and entertainments given. Christmas trees, Sunday schools, political meetings and I do not know what else, although I think no b.a.l.l.s were ever permitted in those days, a modern degeneration to my mind.