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| | NUMBER 4s.
OLMSTEAD. & CO., PUBLISHERS.
aR, 26, 1863.0 |
92 SCHOOL: STREET, BOSTON.”
For the Companion.
WHAT ONE BOY DID;
on, mHomas wutrmaN.
} “Yonder, tearing “Yound a rugged granite cliff,
{comes a fierce blast of wind. Trees bend before it,
1 dry leaves are tossed and whirled away, and a mel-
® ancholy wail comes from the pine ‘forests,’ that
; would seem the protest of some unhappy spirit
“caged within its dismal precincts, and doomed to
battle ever with the elements.
‘ :It is a bleak picture, the bare hill-side with its
narrow foot-path, the rocks, the sterility, the cold
,are uncongenial surroundings for that little figure
’ breasting the wind so manfully.
Poor Tommy, he has walked half the night and
all this chill morning barefoot and breakfastless.
, Poor Tommy, did we say? Why, he looks as un-
‘daunted as if his nine or ten summers had amply
‘y fitted him for the up-hill life before him.” As he
jetakes off his hat, and makes a’ futile’ effort to
«smooth the jet black locks thatthe winds tear
jiaway from his forehead, as if in derision at his
‘efforts, he reveals a broad brow, a pair of keen,
:, deep-set eyes, and a serious mouth, unchildlike in
| ies expression of ‘energy and firmness, yet set be-
tween two ruddy cheeks that health and exercise
‘have painted with the purest rose tint.
A low, brown farm-house among the ragged
cliffs has caught his eye, and he is making his sim-
ple toilet for a call. ‘{n a moment after, the sharp
sound of a set of hard little knuckles on the door
has been heard within, a' motherly, Patient, face
looks out and down upon the new comer,’ and
then, in one keen, steadfast: look, a mother’s eye
has taken in all the little wanderer’s story.
“Come in,” she says, kindly.
~ Mabbe you haven’t had any breakfast, neither, for
their aint many taverns hereabouts.”
Skilfully done, good. woman, You know that
boy would go hungry before he would beg, and you
know, too, how sorely needed is the good meal you
set before him, and you enjoy, too, the appetite
with which he compliments your skill in cookery.
Shrewd enough in reading character to refrain
from plying him with questions which would be
answered only in enigmas, you sit looking at him
with a pair of wistful eyes, that suddenly touch a
sympathetic chord in the sturdy little heart, for his
dark eyes glisten as he catches the tender beam in
yours, and he tells you, after a keen glance around,
to assure himself that you are alone, his brief, sad
story, © a,
is mother is dead. | Ilis father—a weak man,
is your shrewd Yankee guess—has married a selfish
shrew, with a son of her own to provide for. The
blame of every quarrel is laid upon “that Tom,” by
the petted, lying. step-son, and his little shoulders
are made to bear the credit of all the mischief that
both do. No wonder that the out-and-out Tom,
too courageous for a liar, too brave to submit to
what he does not deserve, becomes unmanageable 5 ;
but it is strange that to be rid of him and gain
peace at home his father should have his own son
bound out to a bad man, a notorious niggard, and
tyrant, who abuses the child shamefully.
And I,” he concludes, with a mature air of de-
liberation, “T made up my mind that if 1 ever was
going to be anything, I must look out for myself,
and so I ran away.”
‘As she folds him up a generous package of eata-
sbles for his next meal, and gives it to him, the
quick, grateful smile gives an expression to his
face that makes her ask, abruptly, * ~
“Aint you Wealthy Whitman’s son?”
~ Yes,” answered Tommy, with a soft sigh, “and
my mother was a good woman, too.”
_. “So she was, so she was!” i: is echoed back from a
heart all too busy with the past to speak another
ord,
As she follows him to the door, and watches his
quick step as he presses on over the brow of the
hill “to seek bis fortune” in that most uninviting
region, she says, half aloud, “Not bigger than my
Johnny, and 80 careful not to say too much! He'll
make his way anywhere. If Ihadn’t known that
_ mean, Widder Ludden, I might ha’ blamed him.
“J guess his father’s too easy. And that’s Wealthy ;
‘Whitman's boy, out all night a walkin’ and never
_ spoke | o’ bein’ tired, and there’s my Johnny—up!
cwent the blue calico apron in nervous haste to
hich there was no one to see. -)
“You look tired.
No one?, Angels stooped, perchance prizing
their lustre above that of the diamonds in a queen's
crown, and Tommy, yonder, glancing back, catches
sight of the significant gesture, understands it all,
and long treasures the memory of 7 when things
go hard with him.
Little enough is there in the next six years of
Thomas's life that is interesting to read; but those
six years are full of heroic struggles with poverty,
brave efforts,to keep hope. alive and ambition
awake, not one of which is lost. . Watch him as he
works, How the.willing heart makes labor lighter!
Follow him in his hours of leisure. What’ has he
hidden in yonder hay mow? Stolen goodies, idle
books? Odder things than those. Arithmetics,
Grammars, in English and Latin, Geometries, ofd
yolumes of choice poetry. The rafters ring some-
times with orations to fancied audiences, that lend
him rapt attention.. His clothes are shabby, No
mother patches them skilfully.. He borrows a
needle, and by patient industry learns to take
stitches that it woul take sharp eyes to find.. His
idle comrades call him a queer fellow. He laughs,
as if the joke amused him. They get vexed at his
love of solitude, and chafe him with their stings,
small but venomed, that wake the lion in him. »
“Laugh,” he retorts, “but let me alone, Iam
‘cing to he something before I die.”
“Be something! ‘ha! ha! ho! ho! what a notion!
What do you expect to be P”
“A scholar, a doctor, a member of Congress, yet.”
Cheer upon cheer rings out upon the air at this
answer, and he hears of it again and again—usually
in good-natured rallying—for Tom is a favorite.
They are willing to admit that he can out-run them
all, throw the stoutest, lift with the strongest, and
fish or hunt with the best of thems but such un-
heard-of ambition ! They require time to gest
such a novel idea.
“Tom,” at length cries the biggest boy i in the
crowd, patronizingly, “You're a gritty little fellow,
ik declare I believe you'll do something, if you do
have such a mighty good opinion of yourself.” :
inne a csi ns,
THE SAILORS’ ESCAPE.
“Little good the good opinion would do me with-
out work. But-say, Ben., did you ever hear me
brag of a thing that I couldn’t do if I tried?”
“Never! not I! not I!” rings out a full chorus
of voices, and then, without taking. one hint from
Tom's example, the heedless fellows lounge away
to a bar-room, while Tom walks home, and ciphers
until eleven by the solitary tallow candle that helps
Mrs. Gage to darn and patch for all the men folks
and boys of her large family;—a silent pair, one
too busy, the other too vacant for much talk.
“There won't be much work round here this
winter, ’th’out's chopping, I guess. What are you
going to do, Thomas ?”. asks the farmer with whom
he is at work,
“I mean to.teach, Tean learn more, and earn
more money 80 than in any other way.”
““Umph! Teach? What, in our deestrick ? I
never knew you'd had any schoolin’.. The boys
are as old as you are, and half on ’em as big agin.
P’raps you think you can govern ’em.”
«“T can try.”
“Can ye? Mabbe so; but our committee air
strict on examinin’,” x
“I'm not afraid of that.” +
“Consarn that boy,” blurts out the farmer, “he
needn’t have such a mighty good opinion of him-
“Strange ideas “people have,” thinks Thomas ;
‘why, a man can do almost anything, if he tries.”
The examination troubles the committee men
more than it does our lover of learning. Preju-
dice is not wisdom, and they are too much preju-
diced to admit that a poor boy who has had no
schooling can teach, ©‘
“Wall!” exclaims one who has done his best to
find; something in the books that Whitman does
not know, and is chagrined because close questions
only stimulate this quick intellect, instead of em-
barrassing it, “Wall, how _many alphabets a are
theye 2”
, “In the English language there i is only one, con-
twang twenty-six letters and a sign or character.”
coat
*| walked home with his eyes cast down, an attitude
“| actually called him, in an audaciously loud’
“Ugh! ugh!” chuckles the erudite committee
man, “I, thought you didn’t know everything.
Doesn't the book say two, the Roman and the
Italie ?” pointing, out with an austere air, the two
kinds of type in which the A. B. C.'s were printed |
in the old-fashioned spelling book.
Young Whitman bowed demurely, but the fire.
that kindled his dark eyes and played about the
corners of his well-formed mouth indicated a keen
appreciation of the ludicrous aspect‘of the case..
A consultation was held in, whispers, and then,
Major Brown turned upon Tom with, :
“Your age is rather against you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then our big boys are all older than you:
are, and stouter, too, You can uy, but I guess
you'll fail in government.”
‘“Verily,” thought the indefatigable Tom, as he’
so common with him that he was often rallied» }
about it, “verily, ye are the people and wisdom |
shall die with you! ‘Now if I hadn’t'what they:
are pleased to call a good opinion of myself, what;
would become of me? . Why, if I was overstocked : a
with modesty I_ might die, from sheer want of en-
couragement to live. They shail see about. that
failure in government; and as to my youth, I shall -
live to outgrow that.”
Next Monday morning a phalanx of stalwart
Jonathans were found planted around the wide fires’
place, every cowhide boot in the row looking as if
it had just made a declaration ‘of independente,*
and every face wearing an expression that might
have passed for dogged resolution, if certain ner-:
vous twitches about the eyelids’ and- corners of |
every mouth had not betrayed an irresolute, anx-"
ious desire to know whether “that Tom,” as one
wilder Ty
tone, “was afraid or not.”,
“Take your seats,” commanded tie young mas-—
ter, as quietly as if he expected obedience. - The
timid ones slipped away one by one. The hig’
boys remained too much absorbed in cunversation,
with the apple-cheeked « wasels opposite them to.
hear.
Just time enough was given to make the silence,
oppressive, and ‘then Whitman was in their midst.
Not a word, not a blow, but the black eyes under =
that broad brow kindled into a flame that made!
saucy or dogged ones anuail hefors their steady |
light.
That school was seated more ‘quietly and re-
mained more perfectly subdued ‘all winter than it
had ever been by all the blows and shouts of com-
mand given by previous teachers. ‘And the teacheré
taught, too, in a way so new, that dull intellects, ,
awakened from the long éleep_ of . indifference,
caught the fervor of this strong spirit, and ‘soule
that had thirsted for knowledge sat open-mouthed
as he swept them out of the beaten track and.
carried them into new fields, flowery. with beautiful,
illustrations. An apt story, a pungent ‘satire, a
simile caught up unexpectedly and’ made to glow
with meaning, kept attention awake-and indolence. |
abashed, and won for Thomas the love and admin. :
ration of those who meant to hate him. * (
i)
|
“Why,” said the chief conspirator in the plot”
against him, “the little fellow is all alive. At noon
he wrestles with us, snowballs us, tells stories, and
laughs as easy as any on us, He’s too deep to need.
to sit up stiff as a ramrod, with-his mouth shet like
a spring box for fear the scholars ll find him out. I
should have missed it ef I'd turned him out, and,
—well,—I aint so sure I could: ha’ done it.”
The school has ended.'-The committee man
whose regard for the alphabet liad been so strenu-
ous pays him the promised sum, and, all honor to
his good sense, admits- cordially that nobady ever
deserved the money better.
“You've waked ’em. all MPs. Whitman, that's a
fact.”
How rich Thomas feels as he walks home in a
brown study! He can see the bills, the quarters
and the dimes in his pocket all.taking new shapes,
—‘a decent suit of clothes, those books I have
needed so, something towards a course of lectures
at H—~-.” The perspective dazzles his eyes. He
runs headlong into a group that are dismounting
at the door of his boarding-place.
“Father!” he exclaims, his face lighting up with
pride as he recalls ali that. he bas. accomplished
-
PRB ge Oran,
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