and their awkward attempts at gaiety and elegance; and, to say truth,
few of the village merry-makings escaped her, though she wore always
the air of great superiority.

The spelling-school is one of the ordinary winter amusements in the
country. It occurs once in a fortnight, or so, and has power to draw
out all the young people for miles round, arrayed in their best
clothes and their holiday behavior. When all is ready, umpires are
elected, and after these have taken the distinguished place usually
occupied by the teacher, the young people of the school choose the two
best scholars to head the opposing classes. These leaders choose their
followers from the mass, each calling a name in turn, until all the
spellers are ranked on one side or the other, lining the sides of the
room, and all standing. The schoolmaster, standing too, takes his
spelling-book, and gives a placid yet awe-inspiring look along the
ranks, remarking that he intends to be very impartial, and that he
shall give out nothing _that is not in the spelling-book_. For the
first half hour or so he chooses common and easy words, that the
spirit of the evening may not be damped by the too early thinning of
the classes. When a word is missed, the blunderer has to sit down, and
be a spectator only for the rest of the evening. At certain intervals,
some of the best speakers mount the platform, and "speak a piece,"
which is generally as declamatory as possible.

The excitement of this scene is equal to that afforded by any city
spectacle whatever; and towards the close of the evening, when
difficult and unusual words are chosen to confound the small number
who still keep the floor, it becomes scarcely less than painful. When
perhaps only one or two remain to be puzzled, the master, weary at
last of his task, though a favorite one, tries by tricks to put down