got a chance, you bet I aidged up near her. 
  An’ Farmer Dobbs’s girl was there, the one ’at Jim was sweet on,
  An’ Cyrus Jones an’ Mandy Smith an’ Faith an’ Patience Deaton. 
  Then Parson Brown an’ Lawyer Jones were present—­all attention,
  An’ piles on piles of other folks too numerous to mention. 
  The master rose an’ briefly said:  “Good friends, dear brother Crawford,
  To spur the pupils’ minds along, a little prize has offered. 
  To him who spells the best to-night—­or ’t may be ’her’—­no tellin’—­
  He offers ez a jest reward, this precious work on spellin’.” 
  A little blue-backed spellin’-book with fancy scarlet trimmin’;
  We boys devoured it with our eyes—­so did the girls an’ women. 
  He held it up where all could see, then on the table set it,
  An’ ev’ry speller in the house felt mortal bound to get it. 
  At his command we fell in line, prepared to do our dooty,
  Outspell the rest an’ set ’em down, an’ carry home the booty. 
  ‘T was then the merry times began, the blunders, an’ the laffin’,
  The nudges an’ the nods an’ winks an’ stale good-natured chaffin’. 
  Ole Uncle Hiram Dane was there, the clostest man a-livin’,
  Whose only bugbear seemed to be the dreadful fear o’ givin’. 
  His beard was long, his hair uncut, his clothes all bare an’ dingy;
  It wasn’t ’cause the man was pore, but jest so mortal stingy;
  An’ there he sot by Sally Riggs a-smilin’ an’ a-smirkin’,
  An’ all his children lef’ to home a diggin’ an’ a-workin’. 
  A widower he was, an’ Sal was thinkin’ ’at she ’d wing him;
  I reckon he was wond’rin’ what them rings o’ hern would bring him. 
  An’ when the spellin’-test commenced, he up an’ took his station,
  A-spellin’ with the best o’ them to beat the very nation. 
  An’ when he ’d spell some youngster down, he ’d turn to look at Sally,
  An’ say:  “The teachin’ nowadays can’t be o’ no great vally.” 
  But true enough the adage says, “Pride walks in slipp’ry places,”
  Fur soon a thing occurred that put a smile on all our faces. 
  The laffter jest kep’ ripplin’ ‘roun’ an’ teacher could n’t quell it,
  Fur when he give out “charity” ole Hiram could n’t spell it. 
  But laffin’ ‘s ketchin’ an’ it throwed some others off their bases,
  An’ folks ’u’d miss the very word that seemed to fit their cases. 
  Why, fickle little Jessie Lee come near the house upsettin’
  By puttin’ in a double “kay” to spell the word “coquettin’.” 
  An’ when it come to Cyrus Jones, it tickled me all over—­
  Him settin’ up to Mandy Smith an’ got sot down on “lover.” 
  But Lawyer Jones of all gone men did shorely look the gonest,
  When he found out that he ’d furgot to put the “h” in “honest.” 
  An’ Parson Brown, whose sermons were too long fur toleration,
  Caused lots o’ smiles by missin’ when they give out “condensation.” 
  So one by one they giv’ it up—­the