Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 October 1890 — PHIL AND THE PEDAGOGUE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PHIL AND THE PEDAGOGUE.

A True Story Related of Gen. Philip H. Sheridan. BT HOWARD CAR LUTON TRIPP. Patrick McNanly used to rule At Somerset a district school. His mode of teaching was to train The pupils to obey his cane. Each pupil was to him "an ureh That shure must sale and luve the birch.’' And so, with education’s rod, With language suited to a hod, He. by his stern, tyrannic way, Soon forced his pupils to obey. He was a "master man,” of course— A master, not of books, but force. And thus, much like a monarch’s rule, He “teached” at Somerset the school. One cold, bleak morn of frost and rime, Two pupils came ahead of time. To shield themselves on such a day, Both through a window forced their way. One boy was Sheridan, whose ride The poet Read has glorified. And, when inside, young Sheridan Planned to entrap the “master man.” Above the door he placed a pail Of water, that could hardly fail To douse the master, and to ire Him when be came to build the fire. The boys then hid when this was done, And watched and waited for the fun. Soon Patrick came—the pail upset, Which mado him very mad and wet. He searched the seboolhouse all around,

But no young trickster could be found; For in a neighbor’s loft of hay The roguish scamps were hid away. Pat built a fire to dry his clothes, And waited madly for his foes. He grasped within his brawny hand A six-foot club—his ruling wand; And vowed in vengeance there to rule, To whip each boy that came to school, Until he had the right one found, Who should receive a double round. A small boy first, both weak and slim, Pat seized—“to shake the truth from him;” So followed every blameless lad, Whom Patrick thought so mean and bad; And each he whipped, and tried to force “The truth from him,'’ but failed, of course. When all but one behind remained, Had been well shaken, whipped and blamed, At last through snow and wind? so chill Dame little, roguish “Fighting Phil.” MeNanley met him with a frown. And boldly tried to run him down, For Sheridan, with nimble feet, Began a masterly retreat ; And down the road, through drifts of snow, Both like a streak of light did go. The whole school followed fast and fleet— As Phil went gliding down the street. Phil ran and did his level best. Because he was, in truth, hard-pressed; While Patrick, from his madness blind, Was scarce a dozen steps behind. In time Phil reached his father’s yard, Where he had left his dog on guard. There was a battlefield divine, And Philip's “Brave” was there In line; And there the place which Philip chose To face one of his strongest foes; And there his dog. with teeth revealed, Helped him to*win the hard-fought field. Phil turned upon his master mad, And showed him all the strength he had. His schoolmates cheered Phil’s noble stand, But dared not lend a helping hand; Vet while Philip his grip reveals, The dog is at poor Patrick's hoels. Outflanked as any man could be, McManly soon took to a tree, And high upon an apple limb, The whipped and unwhipped laughed at him. Pat looked much like a drowned rat—

Phil asked, “Why don’t you whip me, Pat?’ t Pat cried, “Shure, ye shall rue the hour I ever get ye in me power; For by St. Patrick I shall lame Ye for yerdirthy little game!” “Why don’t you do it, Patrick, how?”

Asked Philip with a pleasant bow. “Becase ye won’t give me fair play. An’ call yer bloody pup away.” McNanly threatened, shivered, bawled.

And then for Philip’s father called; For he was freezing wot and cold, And found it did no good to scold. Because Phil kept the dog so spry, Upon a carpet handy by, And told “Brave” to keep watch of him. Who sat astride the apple limb; His father coming, there did see McNanly up the apple tree. And with a very pleasant grin He took the situation In, And asked poor Patrick on his b High If he was “picking apples now'/” Poor Patrick, in a brogue of wrath, Told how he had received a bath, How he had whipped the boys at school,. That they might better know his rule, now by liis actions Philip had Shown that he was the guilty lad, How he had chased him to the yard, And found the "bloody pup” on guard, How both the dog and boy agreed, How he’d been bitten, beaten, treed. How all his school stood grinning by, How he would conquer Phil or die. He asked the father there to stay, And call the watchful dog away, To see him capture “Fighting Phil,” That he might wallop him until lie had been truly conquered, and Resigned the right to his command! The father tried to call away The dog, but "Brave” would not obey; Then, thinking Phil perhaps was right, . Left them to settle tlielr own fight. McNanly could not teach his school, For “up a tree” he could not rule; So Philip, with most prudent sense, Made Pat revoke the morn’s offense; Made him there feel his littleness, To use his rod a trifle less, To promise, up that apple tree. That ho a kinder man would be; Made him the by-word of the town, Before he let the tyrant down; Made him cool off—for Phil’s delight Was a surrender or a fight. The dog called off, McNanly’s rule Again assumed Its place in school; But from that morn young “Fighting Phil,'

Though noble, manly, strong of will, Though peaceful, and avoiding strife, Was never whipped in all his life. In after years his country’s call Proved him the bravest of them all; For when death-bolts hissed through the afi; Brave “General Fighting Phil” was ihei«| He fought four years, and toiled to see Our flag, the slaves and country free — Fought on to vindicate his faith. And conquered everything but death. Ivingslev, lowa.

“WHICH MADE HIM VERY MAD AND WET.”

“AND VOWED IN VENGEANCE THERE TO RULE.”

“HELPED HIM TO WIN THE HARD-FOUGH-FIELD.”

“SAT ASTRIDE THE APPLE LIMB.”