170 Chronicles of the Cape Fear River

but hardly a success in truck farming. When or whither he

retired is not known to us.

‘Say something about schools,” says a friend, and we are

disposed to comply. What follows must be largely reminiscent,
We would like to speak of some schools, Miss Maggie McLeod’s,

for instance, but could say nothing of personal knowledge. This
much is known, however, that this good old lady, whee well on

in the eighties of her life, left us only a year or two since for
her heavenly home, laid the educational foundation ei and
strong for many of the best citizens of today. The same pte
to be said of the teaching of Miss Laura Rankin. now Mrs
Rothwell, whose temperance societies and strict mera trainin ,
otherwise implanted principles which will tell throughout iar
nity. Rev. A. P. Repiton, Rev. Mr. Shepherd, and Rev. W. W
Eells taught schools that were well patronized, but for the seni
given above we can do no more than note them.

The forties were the birchen time in schooling. Methods
were drastic—if that is the word. They had moderated from
the days of Mitchell in the Old Academy, for then the methods
might, without a strain upon language, be called sanguinary.
But there were exceptions. Good old Mrs. Easter Coxetter-——

did she whip! Well, we do not recall it, but the goggles made
out of the “Jack of hearts”—was it? (we are not up on that

nomenclature), we do remember, and a friend whose recollec-
tion 1s vivid says the three-legged stool and the dunce’s cap were
used. That was not all, however. The dear old lady had us on
Friday evening to recite the Apostles’ Creed, and maybe the
Ten Commandments and the Lord’s Prayer. And here * took
our first lessons in the Episcopal catechism—and our last Yes
she was a dear old lady, a dear old saint, now over half at its
= sf ean In : former article Mr. Jesse Mulock was
referred to, and we only note h ilmi
if any, better teachers than he. TER eres amer ti
Cape Fear Lodge, No. 2, I. O. O. F., was organized on the
13th of J anuary, 1842—the place, a room over the grain store
of B. F'. Mitchell & Son. The charter members were Gen. Alex-
ander MacRae, W. 8S. G. Andrews, Willie A. Walker, and
Valentine Hodgson from Weldon Lodge, No. 1. Thomas H.
Howey and Levi A. Hart were initiated the same night. The
ie soon moved its quarters to an upper room of a building on
: corner of the alley next south of the Purcell House. This is
only preliminary to saying that in 1842 a committee consisting

Early Years 171

of Col. John MacRae, Rev. B. L. Hoskins, and Owen Fennell,
Esq., was appointed to report on the propriety of establishing a

school. On June 10, 1843, we quote from the Wzalmington
Chronicle, “Trustees of Wilmington Academy resolved to lease
the eastern end of their property to Cape Fear Lodge, No. 2,
I. O. O. F., for twenty-five years for the erection of a school-
house, at an annual rental of a peppercorn.”

The Odd Fellows’ School was established, and a benevolent
work was thus done for Wilmington which ought to be remem-
bered with profoundest gratitude by all who were recipients of
the benefits conferred by the institution. With all books and
stationery furnished, the tuition fee was only $3 a quarter—and
it was a quarter, or well-nigh so—for a scholastic year was then
eleven months. The school was opened in October, 1843, with
Mr. Robert McLauchlin, of Baltimore, principal. Mrs. McLauch-
lin had charge of the female department. Mr. McLauchlin
was tall, strongly built, and well proportioned, without a pound
of superfluous flesh. His hair, which was exceeding scant,
was of a reddish color, and his beard the same. The boys re-
garded him as a veritable Samson. He did not use, too well

we remember—he did not use the ruler as the instrument of

- eorrection. You know there was a firm belief prevalent that a

ruler could be broken by crossing eyelashes in your hand and
moistening them with spittle. Somehow or other the process
always failed, but that was because the lashes did not lie right,
of course. But Mr. MecLauchlin would jerk a boy up on tiptoe
with his left hand and thrash him with his right. By way of
variation he sometimes threw out his cork leg, drew a boy over
it, and. then—but it is not necessary to be precise on what is
really very much a matter of feeling. Some readers know just
how it was. The writer does.

But there came a day, Monday, the 21st of April, 1845, when
we had gathered at school and were dismissed because our
teacher was too indisposed to be present. We made the welkin
ring with shouts of delight that we were to have a holiday. A
few of us went with Henry and Robert and Billy, the MacRae
boys, into the woods to enjoy our Indian play, or whatever it
might be, and in a few hours returned to learn that Mr.
McLauchlin was dead. We mourned for him, because we loved
him. He was strict and maybe severe, but never unjust and
never cruel, and we loved him with a love both strong and true.
He was buried on the lot, northwest corner of Fourth and Dock