Clemson University - Taps Yearbook (Clemson, SC)

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382 THE CLEMSON COLLEGE CHRONICLE At twelve, the signal for recess was given by ringing an ancient dinner bell, and ere the echo had died away, the school-room was empty. Each pupil betook himself to some friendly shade tree, and there with his tin bucket be- tween his knees, made short work of his noonday meal. The school-master, by virtue of his position, remained in- doors and dined as became one of his dignity. Perched on his elevated tripod with his tin bucket firmly clasped between his knees, he searched the inmost recesses of his food recep- tacle with his long, bony fingers. Xow this old school-master ' s only joy was his rum bottle, to which he made rather constant visits on those days when the weather was especially inclement. When in one of his semi-intoxicated conditions, he became very gay and witty, but if he chanced to overestimate his capacity for strong drink, he became contumacious and actually cruel in his treatment of his pupils. It was in one of these savage spells that the old man last parted with his pupils. On a bitter cold day of December, ' 93, after school had been disbanded for the day, the old school-master stood in the door-way of his school-room and looked out upon the snow-covered earth, shivering at the thought of his three mile ride. To keep out the cold he frequentlv resorted to his gin bottle ere he departed on his homeward way. Xow on this par- ticular occasion he so greatly overestimated his capacity for cheap gin, that his reason was completely dethroned. He staggered out into the blinding snow and by chance found his faithful Locomotive. After many futile attempts, he succeeded in getting astride his charger ' s back. He reined into the first opening which presented itself to view, which chanced to be a bridle path leading into the woods. The old man with whip and spur urged his horse to its top speed. After about a mile of this mad gallop, they came to a large oak, whose lowest branches spread fan-shaped over the path.

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THE CLEMSON COLLEGE CHRONICLE 381 unkempt hair, corduroy trousers and cotton gallowses used to chase the freckled-faced milk-maids, who were chosen for the wily fox, the boys gallantly volunteering as hounds. This old school-master bore a striking resemblance to Washington Irving ' s Ichabod Crane. ' ' He was long rather than tall, for from the ground to the crown of his head was less than six feet, but by the circuitous route of his spinal column, it must have been several inches more. His knees were slightly sprung, doubtless caused by constantly dangling them from a high, three-legged stool. His beady black eyes were entrenched behind a huge pair of spectacles, the gutta percha frame work of which rose like an arch to a cathedral entrance, to a level with his bald pate. His teeth could almost be counted through his thin, hollow cheeks ; and his pointed chin, poorly screened by a scattering growth of tobacco-stained grey hairs, came in close proximity to his hawk-billed nose. His long, lanky arms lay idly across his lap except when wielding a stout birch rod, which composed the gymnasium of himself and pupils. This old school-master lived some three miles from his school house, but be it said to the honor of his flea-bitten grey charger, he was never known to be more than two hours late. He always brought his lunch to school, swung over his right arm in a tin bucket ; on his left he carried a home- spun sack into which was stuffed a Blue-back Speller, copy book, arithmetic and diverse other implements of men- tal torture. Behind his raw-hide saddle was strapped the provender of his faithful Locomotive, as the boys were fond of calling his antiquated grey. Between the hours of nine and twelve, the school-master ' s monk-like chant resounded through the quiet room, broken occasionally by a resounding whack on the devoted head of some luckless bumpkin.

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THE CLEMSON COLLEGE CHRONICLE 383 at about the height of a man ' s head. Regardless of the im- pending danger, the drunken old pedagogue rushed beneath the over-hanging branches. The horse emerged on the other side but the rider was nowhere visible. His head had slipped between two forking limbs, his support had passed from beneath him, leaving him drunken, half-frozen, half- stunned ; hanged by the hand of fate. Three days later the body was found hanging from the tree. The eyes were pro- truded, tongue hanging out, with his bony hands firmly grasping the fatal limbs. The public was cordially invited, by the student body, to attend the burial on the following forenoon. At the appointed hour, a vast concourse of rus- tics were assembled, foremost among which were the stu- dents of Peg branch school. Some were equal to the occa- sion and shed tears of genuine sympathy, but others could only assume a grieved look, and with hands stuffed deep in their pockets, a straw in their mouths and head cocked to one side, they viewed the ceremony with silent unconcern. To-day, in the northeast corner of Tabernacle church- yard, stands a small marble slab bearing this inscription : Richard O ' Bryan, Born — God knows when. Died — From drinking one X gin. D. H. S., ' 02. Speech on the Philippine Question {Resolved, That the United States should continue to pur- sue its present policy in reference to the Philippines. ) The past three years have been momentous ones in the annals of our country. During that time, history, rapid and unusual, has been made. The surges of events have beaten upon the olden shores. War, waged upon abnormal and