finally arranged that we must have a school, and the cabin of a bachelor
settler was tendered and accepted, and my father chosen as teacher. Logs
were split open and placed on legs, with the flat sides turned up to
serve as seats. The floor,--well, Mother Earth provided that. It was
sprinkled and swept out with "split brooms" twice daily. To prevent the
pupils getting lost in the tall grass of the prairies, furrows were
plowed from the settlers' cabins to the school house. This also served
as a protection to the barefoot girls and boys going to and from,
school. My father belonged to the old school and did not believe in
"sparing the rod," and as a result, it became indelibly impressed upon
my juvenile mind that he used the rod upon me to better preserve order
among the other pupils.

In those days girls dressed in "linsey woolsey," while the boys of all
ages wore buckskin pantaloons and hickory shirts. Now, buckskin is well
calculated to stand the wear and tear of even a robust boy. Yet there
were awkward drawbacks. The legs of the pantaloons absorbed too much
moisture from the dew-bedecked grass and they would stretch out to
almost any length. The boy, therefore, must roll them up at the bottom.
Arrived at school, however, the drying process set in, and he, perforce,
must unroll the legs. As the boy occupied a sitting position, the legs
of his buckskins set to the crook of his knees. Imagine, if you will, a
row of boys ranging from 12 to 17 years, standing in a class reciting
their lessons, straight as hickories, yet the pantaloons of every
mother's son of them still sitting down. But it mattered little to the
boy of that day, as he had only to wet them again, stretch them out
straight and wear them to "meetin' in the grove" Sunday.

There was no aristocracy--no "four hundred"--in those primitive days.
All dressed alike, ate the same kind of food, and every man, woman, and