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rugged character was typical of many of the pioneer pedagogs of the Middle West, began to teach in Lisbon about 1835, and continued to do so until obliged to retire by failing health in 1872. He was a stern, hard Puritan, who did not scruple to use the ruler on his pupils, and apparently needed in the exercise of his calling some warlike weapon. The story is that, when he attempted to chastise some big culprit, he was assaulted by his victim, and only escaped a thrashing by virtue of the assistance rendered by the rest of his pupils. Yet his pupils, apparently, did not have any reason to be fond of him. He wore rubber shoes, and would step silently up behind his boys when they were supposed to be writing on their slates. If he found them drawing pictures or scribbling messages, he would box them soundly on the ears — first on one side and then on the other, as the head was forced over by the force of the first blow. He was also subject to violent outbursts of temper, which are attributed by one witness to the influence of a malevolent wife — a lady who in her playful moods used to threaten her husband with a butcher's knife and was popularly supposed to be a witch.

In spite, however, of his peculiarities, in spite of his sedulous laying on of two rulers, one round and one flat, in spite of his assumption of authority over the behavior of his pupils outside of the schoolroom, his memory is still reverenced in New Lisbon. Some years ago a fund was collected from his former pupils with which to erect a permanent memorial to the village teacher, but the project fell through, because of the failure of the bank in which the accumulated funds had been deposited. He was, apparently, with all his tantrums, his cuffings and his busy rulers, a kind-hearted man. The statement that he would be amiable and cheerful for the whole day whenever a new pupil happened in and paid the fee of two dollars for the first quarter, points to a hard and a fruitless fight against poverty as well as domestic unhappiness. No wonder that his temper was none of the best and his discipline harsh. The fact that in spite of all his failings the memory of "Davy" Anderson is cherished in New Lisbon sufficiently proves that when the books were balanced, his pupils could place to his credit a great deal of rough but effective elementary and moral schooling.

I have paused for a moment over the description of David Anderson and his school, because of the light which the man, his methods and circumstances throw upon the New Lisbon of the decade from 1840 to 1850; but there is some doubt whether Mark Hanna was ever cuffed and drilled by the irascible ScotchIrishman. At the local centennial celebration in 1903 the names of Mark Hanna and "Davy" Anderson, as the two most renowned celebrities of New Lisbon, were continually being coupled. Speaking of Anderson, the Senator said to the Hon. Chas. C. Connell, who had been writing a history of the town prepared for the occasion: "I don't like to spoil your story, Connell; but I never went to school with 'Davy' Anderson." On the other hand, Dr. Henry C. McCook distinctly states that he and Mark Hanna attended "Davy" Anderson's school; and Howard Melville Hanna is equally emphatic in testifying to the same effect. There is no way now of definitely settling it; but if Mark Hanna ever did attend "Davy's" .school, it could not have been for long. There is evidence that from 1850 to 1852 he was sent to another school-teacher; and authentic incidents connected with his attendance of Miss Converse's school indicate that he must have been at that time a boy of ten or twelve. Perhaps a father who objected to flogging, and who supported his son in a rebellion against the exercise of a school-teacher's authority outside of school hours, would have been loath to submit his son to "Davy" Anderson's rule and rulers.

When the "Union-School System" of graded public schools was adopted, Mark Hanna apparently went to public school. In the general re-grading and distribution of the children, Mark Hanna and Henry McCook were assigned to the high school, and were made deskmates. The school was lodged in the basement of the Presbyterian Church, and here Mark continued his education until he left New Lisbon. "As I recall him," says Dr. McCook, "in the 'roundabout' or tailless coat then worn by boys, he was a ruddy-cheeked youth, rather slightly built, certainly not stout or stocky — a pleasant, wholesome fellow, clean of tongue and with more polish of manners than many of his playmates. Nevertheless, we were in several school scrapes together, in one of which the writer saved

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his deskmate from a thrashing by resisting the teacher in what was by our schoolroom standards an unlawful mode of punishment. This diverted attention from my fellow-culprit, who in the melie went scot-free." Dr. McCook adds: "Several teachers had charge of the high school during the pupilage of the Senator [and his deskmate, but the one who wielded the greatest and most wholesome influence upon our characters was Reuben McMillan. To him the writer owes more than any other instructor in school or college; and this affection and this gratitude were shared during his school life, at least, by Mr. Hanna."

Before leaving the subject of Mark Hanna's schooling in New Lisbon, attention must be called to an unofficial source of instruction and training which the lad shared with some of his playmates. On Jan. 12, 1850, there was instituted the "Polydelphian Society of New Lisbon," a debating club, whose constitution and behavior are so well described in a letter written by General Anson G. McCook, then Secretary of the United States Senate to Major W. W. Armstrong of Cleveland in April, 1892, that I reproduce it in part: "With what interest you read [in a book containing the constitution and minutes of the society] of the efforts to provide for every possible contingency to make our debating society a success — the elaborate way in which we provided for the duties of the officers — the limitations we placed upon debate, peremptorily shutting off long-winded orations — the amount of fines to be imposed upon disorderly members, running from '5 to 25 cents' — the power, as we expressed it in terms that very closely resemble a provision in the Constitution of the United States, to lay and collect taxes for necessary purposes — the express provision that no one shall address the chair except upon his feet and the positive prohibition 'that no member should be permitted to whistle or eat in the society'; all expressed in quaint and boyish phraseology but with unmistakable clearness and directness. From the record the first question we attempted to debate was 'Was the Mexican War justifiable?' and the minutes gravely state that 'after a good deal of arguing, the jury brought in its decision for the negative.'

"It is wonderful, too, with what splendid courage these un

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