Historical Sketch of Brownell Hall

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Brownell Hall

MRS. HARRIET MACMURPHY

BROWNELL HALL

Winnie, Nellie Bly, Peggie Grunt, Mademoiselle Cottonwood, Mollie Ford, The Peasant Girl, Sibby Stump, Peggie Miranda, Millie Maud, Wild Bird, Fire Fly, Ecila Renraw (the young ladies name spelled backward), Dr. Vernon, Rachel Barker, Annette, Mysie Marvin, Elsie Ervin, Minnie Loyal, Count D'Eslone, Romping Rose, Aunt Miranda, Madge, Lieut. Harrie Rosebud, Countess D'Eslone, Vivian & Co., Nemo, Amy Frasier, Dido, Gypsey, Aunt Kate, Fairy Bell, Rhea, Eloise, Sweet-brier, Zeuobia, Lada, Naida, Cecil Kenilworth, Etc.

The first number is unfortunately missing, so I cannot give the Salutatory, and while the earliest one I can find purports to be Vol. 1, No. 2, its Editressial (as they termed it) says, "It is a sad feeling with which we commence a new volume of the 'Chimes,' " from which may be inferred the fact that there had been issues of the paper during the previous and first term, perhaps irregularly, and only for a few weeks, so the volume proper was begun with the opening of the second term. This number is dated March 11, 1864, with Misses Keyes and Evans, Editresses, and chronicles the death of Mrs. Hagar.

Listen to some of the Chimes which sounded on the ear from their pages, as rung by some sweet voiced "Brownell Belle" for the ears of the rest:

BROWNELL HALL

Stilling quickly all commotion,
Calling all to sweet devotion,
       Blessed Bells!

Hear the ringing of the Bells!
       Eating Bells!
How the fairies scramble, splutter!
Rushing each for bread and butter!
School-girls love to hear the sound,
At its note their spirits bound,
       Welcome Bells!
Tones suggestive, full of meaning,
Calling all to table, gleaming,
       Cheerful Bells.

Hear the tinkling of the bells.
       Study Bells,
Calling all to books and study,
Calling fiercely, yes, and loudly!
School-girls dread to hear its tone,
At its sound their spirits moan,
       Dreadful Bells!
Ah how vainly they endeavor
Now to study, now or never,
       Fearful Bells.

Hear the clanging of those bells,
       Retiring Bells.
Hurry fairies, beauties, sprites!
Hurry to put out your lights!
Listen! Hear those loud commands!
The bells are in determined hands,
       Scolding Bells!
Hush ye maidens without number
To a calm and peaceful slumber,
       Good-night Bells!

Hear the sobbing of the bells,
       Parting Bells.
How they weep and wail and moan,
A world of sadness in their tone.
"No more service now," they say,
"All are going far away,"
       Sighing Bells.
Now a long and sad farewell
To our much loved, dear Brownell,
       Good-bye Bells.

BROWNELL HALL

Here are some of the conundrums which appeared in its pages, referring to names of pupils or faculty:

"Why is one of the young ladies of Brownell Hall more to be admired for her virtues than Moses? Because she is 'Meeker.'"

"Why alas! is one of the sweetest girls in school liable to arrest? Because she is (A. Robb-)er."

"Why is our music teacher the vital part of the faculty of Brownell Hall? Because she is the Root."

"Why are certain two young ladies of the Hall, who are devoted to the study of Mathematics regarded as the oracles of their class? Because they are Key(e)s."

"Why is our teacher of Mathematics like the rising bell? She is 'A. Warner.'

A poem entitled "Lines to the Ladies of Brownell," evidently written by an absent friend, has for the last two stanzas:

Would that my steps could reach it,
That happy flowery strand,
For all my heart's afflictions
Would cease in that fairy land.

Oft in my dreams I see them,
Gay Brownell's inmates fair,
But with daylight's early glimmer
They vanish into air.

The editorial of October 7, 1865, contains the following:

BROWNELL HALL

"Saturday evening last two large boxes arrived for Brownell and had you been there you would have been charmed by the excitement, for it was ascertained that they contained books donated by a New York lady to Brownell Hall. They were also reminders of our Rector's zeal in behalf of the Hall. Could the donor have witnessed the delight of teachers and scholars when each set of works was mentioned, the exclamations 'Oh, how nice! How beautiful! What grand times we'll have reading! '--the recognition of some familiar author and the like, she would have been almost repaid for her kindness without hearing the gratitude that was expressed."

Here is another poem, too good to leave in oblivion. Coming upon it the writing looked very familiar; a second look recognized my own girlish tracks, and as I read, recollection came back to me of the curiosity excited at the time by the poem among the pupils. It was never known certainly who did write it, but the authorship was generally ascribed to Mr. Betts:

I am
A married lady of thirty-odd.
Every evening I see in their beds
A baker's dozen of curly heads.
Every morning my slumbers greet
The patter, patter of twenty-six feet.
Thirteen little heads and all in a flutter
Till thirteen little mouths are filled with bread
and butter,
Thirteen little tongues are busy all day long,
And thirteen little hands doing something wrong,

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      Till I fain am to do,
       With an energy, too,
As did the old woman who lived in a shoe.

And when my poor husband comes home from
       his work,
Tired and hungry and fierce as a shark,
What do you think is the picture he sees?
A legion of babies all in a breeze.
       Johnny a-crying
       And Lucy a-sighing,
And worn-out mama with her hair all a-flying,

Strong and angry William beating little Nellie,
Charlie in the pantry eating currant jelly,
Richard strutting round in papa's Sunday coat,
Harry at the glass with a razor at his throat.
Robert gets his fingers crushed when Susie
       shuts the door
And mitigates their aching with a forty-pounder
       roar.
Baby at the coal hod is hurrying to begin
To throw in his mite to the universal din.
Alas! My lord and master being rather weak of

      nerve, he
Begins to lose his patience in the stunning topsy-turvey,
And then the frightened little ones all fly to me for shelter,
And so the drama closes 'mid a general helterskelter.
I'll give you my name lest you think me a myth,
Yours, very respectfully, Mrs. John Smith.

The following was thought at the time very clever:

"BROWNELL BARRACKS,

"March 23d, 1865.

"DEAR CHIMES:

"I have long thought of publishing the proceedings of the present siege, but could not decide upon the all important question, 'which

BROWNELL HALL

periodical shall I select'!' When the fame of your distinguished publishers reached our camp it decided me. We are still besieging Fort Education and have made very little headway. As yet the conquest is nearly equal, for when we begin to think we have gained the day, General Knowledge sends a battalion secretly to our rear and charges upon us with a valiant regiment of algebraic problems, who for a time spread terror and confusion through the army; but at the most critical moment General Perseverance reinforces the struggling ranks, and soon puts the enemy to flight. We are continually manufacturing bomb shells in our brain and occasionally they explode with a flash of wit and humor that causes General Rhetoric to tremble. About two months ago Lieutenant General Herrmann reviewed the entire army. He promoted several worthy officers. Captain Physiology was removed to the division of Colonel Meteorology. Lieutenant History was transferred from the English to the Ancient Corps, The 'Sub-Junior battalion' is still besieging the commands of Generals Mitchell, Brown and Greenleaf. The 'Junior Corps' has taken in hand the divisions of Generals Loomis, Fasquelle, and Willard. They made a very successful raid throughout the camp of General Fasquelle and captured the entire baggage train, which was loaded with 'bon mots.' They forced General Willard to surrender. We have able commanders in Lieutenant General Herr-

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mann, Brigadier-General Foote, and General Gillmore; they keep good discipline, and Quartermaster Lauderback provides us regularly with rations. Chief Bugler Root has led us on to many a victory over Gottschalk, Bertini Von Weber and Richardson, and if the old Fort Education does not succumb before long t'will be the fault of the army, not the commanders.

"I shall write again before long and try to keep you posted in the affairs of the siege.

"Yours very respectfully,
"LIEUT. HARRIE ROSEBUD,
"Middle Division,
"BROWNELL VOLUNTEERS,
"Brownell Barrack, "N. T."

"Wanted--A competent and highly accomplished young lady. Her principal occupation will be to write compositions for Angelica Know Nothing."

Here is a portion of a sketch of the pianos in November, 1865.

"We think that our pianos are old enough to have a word said about them. They have been badly slandered and abused and I feel it a duty that I owe the poor old things to become their champion. Kind hearers, or readers, would you believe me if I should tell you that they have been compared to old tin pans, a fiddle with one string, bumble bees, etc. To be sure they are getting old and feeble, and very

BROWNELL HALL

often get a severe cold, but that is to be wondered at, for they often have to stay in a room minus a fire. When they were brought to the Hall they were about in the prime of life, or perhaps verging a little on the brink of old age; but we fear that they have not been treated with due respect since they made this their home. Some of the young ladies have no mercy on them, but have pounded them so hard that they have broken a number of their bones."

"Wanted--Information of old Aunt Kate. In a fit of abstraction she wandered from her friends and when last heard of was hunting in the depths of Pompeii for some gladiator that bore a resemblance to an imaginary lover. A liberal reward will be paid by her anxious friends."

To which Aunt Kate herself responds in the same issue:

"Aunte Kate begs leave to announce to the young ladies that she did not return from Pompeii in time to prepare a lecture for them, and then she was clean done out travelling so far. She will be on hand the next issue of the 'Chimes' and the sauce boxes can save their reward or give it to her."

Here is a bit from their advertising columns:

"N. Ashton and B. Montague, Attorneys at Law, would respectfully announce to 'ye fairies' that their office on the corner of Betts and Din-

BROWNELL HALL

ing Room Avenue will be open after this date, where the gentlemen will attend to any business brought forward and endeavor to settle all difficulties arising among 'ye fairies.' They solicit your patronage."

"What is the difference between the Hall and the last new pupil? One is Brownell, the other Nell Brown."

"Why is Miss Griffin musical? Because she is a Lute."

On October 13, 1865, appeared this article thanking a company of serenaders, which was copied into the Omaha Herald, greatly to the delight of its author, this being her first appearance in print:

"A company of serenaders visited our institution in the 'wee sma' hours' last night, and discoursed sweet music to the faculty and fairies of said institution. That the music was appreciated can be testified to by the fact that shortly after the strains commenced, white robed fairies might have been seen issuing from every door and gliding noiselessly through the halls wending their way with one consent to a room directly over the spot whence the strains emanated: there they all collected with (strange to relate), a nun in the midst of them clad in her garments of deepest black, her eyes intently fixed upon the window, to which point the eyes of the fairies seemed also to be directed. Sev-

BROWNELL HALL

eral of the faculty were among the group, who seemed also to be regarding the scene without. The strains of music still filled the air and charmed the senses of the listening band. One of the serenaders had enticed the valiant protector of our nightly slumbers into gambols quite unusual for him, and at last elevated him to a branch of one of the noble old trees which shade our beloved dwelling, from which he descended in rather a precipitous manner. At last the strains ceased, and the serenaders prepared to depart; the fairies testified their gratitude by clapping fairy hands and waving fairy handkerchiefs after the manner of the inhabitants of this mundane sphere. The serenaders in return joined their voices in a song which made us think (may they pardon us for the thought) of a couplet we have seen:

Swans sing before they die,
'Twere no bad thing
Should certain persons die before they sing.

Far be it from us to wish our serenaders such a fate! but we would humbly suggest to them that perhaps vocal music is not the talent committed to their keeping so much as is instrumental.

Such an excitement as the serenaders produced among the fairies (not equal perhaps to that produced by the two-legged rats of by-gone fame) but very great nevertheless: and we venture to affirm when rosy slumbers visited their

BROWNELL HALL

eyelids once more that many a sweet strain of music mingled with their dreams. Vale.

MY5IE MARVIN.

Where the editorial voices welcome their new Bishop:

"We would fain tune our 'Chimes' today to a peal of welcome, for we have the pleasure of greeting in our midst our new friend and patron, Bishop Clarkson. In times past we have learned to revere our Bishop above all men and to mark those days when he was present with us, as the happiest days in our school life, and now that his mantle has fallen upon another, our hearts go forth in a cordial greeting to him. Oft in times past have we met with Bishop Talhot round the festal board, his hearty laugh and social conversation adding greatly to the enjoyment of the time. * * * Sad indeed was the parting with this dear father, for in truth he was a father to us, but he left us in the charge of his friend and brother whom we welcome today. This, we may say, is the first visit we have received from him in his new position and we trust that he will have no occasion to regret the time spent among us, for loving hearts and willing hands are ready to do his pleasure. In a few hours he will number among his numerous flock (probably in confirmation) several of our dear friends. In after years we hope we may all cherish the memory of our present Bishop as we now do that of the absent one."

BROWNELL HALL

To this the Bishop responded in the next number:

"When any one is compelled by duty to leave the home and friends of his lifetime and establish a residence and prosecute a work among strangers, it is peculiarly grateful to be received with kindness and cordiality by those among whom we intend hereafter to live and labor.

"Hardly any one could have left a more delightful home and dearer friends than the new Bishop when he left for the great field committed to his. charge by the church, and no language could describe the pain of severing the holy ties of a long pastorate and parting from the young men and maidens, the old men and children of his united and beloved flock.

"But hardly had he set foot on the soil of Nebraska before he felt sure that willing and affectionate hearts would cheerfully greet his coming, and among the salutations of welcome that he has received none gratified him more than the beautiful and touching one that came to him in the sweet music of the 'Chimes.' Long will be the echo ring through the chambers of his memory, and he trusts that the children of the church gathered at dear old Brownell will always feel sure of their Bishop's interest, sympathy and affection. May God bless and keep you all evermore in his love and favor."

Had the "Chimes" still pealed when he laid

BROWNELL HALL

down his office, we all know with what mournful sound they would have tolled his requiem and how their tones would have spoken his praises for all the burdens he had so lovingly borne, the good deeds so unassumingly done for dear Brownell. Bishop Talbot laid the foundations. Bishop Clarkson reared the superstructure, and when the winds blew and the storms beat, as they will on all things earthly, his efforts were interposed to shield it from the blast and raise it even stronger and higher in beautiful proportions. He did not live alas! to see its full tide of prosperty.

Here is a wail, fittingly voiced, for every trembling school girl:

EXAMINATION.

'Tis now a calm and placid Friday eve,
Fit time for thought and tranquil meditation,
Yet every flitting thought will still come back
And sadly dwell upon Examination.

We sit beside the window gazing out,
And as we occupy this tempting station
Right willingly would books be thrown aside
Were it not still for that Examination.

Each object that attracts the wandering eye
Appears to bear some undefined relation
To that more dreadful, less inviting one,
The terror of the Hall--Examination.

'Tis in the hum of study plainly heard,
And claims a part in every conversation,
And on full many troubled, anxious brows
Are seen the signs of dread, Examination.

What hopes and fears do agitate the mind,
What rapid changes in the heart's pulsation,



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