University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

When the time came for William Mitten to return to school, he
begged his uncle to allow him to keep his horse at Willington. He
thought “that if he boarded two or three miles from the school
house, and rode to school and back to his boarding house every day,
his health would be greatly improved.” He said, that “if he had a
horse to ride to the post office he could get and mail letters speedily
—that he often wished to go and hear Mr. Waddel preach at Rocky
River Church; but that he had no means of getting there—that it
would cost nothing hardly to keep a horse at Willington. That
several times during the summer he had suffered from head-ache,
occasioned by hard study and want of exercise, and that unless he
could take more exercise in the summer mouths than he had been
taking, he feared his health would be ruined. That in the winter
it was not so bad; for the exercise of getting wood, and the active
plays of the school, at this season gave him plenty of exercise; but
in warm weather, he sometimes got so weak that it seemed to him he
would faint.”

Mrs. Mitten said “that she would cheerfully bear the expense of
the horse, if her brother would consent to William's keeping him at
Willington. That the idea of his constitution being shattered by
severe study was distressing to her. That she had suffered no little
in mind herself from the difficulty of hearing from William often
through the mails, and that there was something delightful in the
thought of her son going to sacred service with his preceptor. She
could conceive of nothing more likely to produce reciprocal endearment
between the two than this; but that if brother David thought
differently she had nothing to say.”

“William,” said the Captain, “you perplex me not a little. The
horse is yours, and I do not like to interfere with your right of property
in him; and yet, to allow you to take him off to school with
you, and keep him there, knowing as I do how you have used him,
seems to me little better than wilfully putting your life in jeopardy,
encouraging you to idleness, pushing you into difficulties with your
preceptor, and periling all my bright hopes of you at once. What
could have possessed me to make you such a present as that! Yes,
I know what possessed me; I wished to show you my gratification at
your progress—to encourage you in your studies; to prove my affection

for you; to give you confidence in my counsels, and to give
you healthful, agreeable, and useful exercise, during your vacation.
—Why didn't I think to reserve the right of taking him back, if
you abused or misused the gift!—”

“Uncle, you can take him back, if you wish to.”

“No, I will not do that; but I'll tell you what I will do: he cost
me one hundred dollars; now I will give you for him, one hundred
and twenty dollars in any property you will name—but a horse.
That sum will get you a very pretty little library, that will be of use
to you through life. Or your mother will add to it, I know, a
hundred and eighty more, and that will get you a nice waiting boy—
or anything else that you prefer. But mind, I do not wish you to
make the trade merely to gratify me, or merely to appease my anxieties,
or quiet my apprehensions. Act without fear or constraint in
the matter. You will not offend me if you reject my offer.”

“Why, William,” said Mrs. Mitten, “surely when you see your
Uncle's solicitude—”

“Stop, Anna! My solicitude has nothing to do with the matter—”

“I was only going to call to William's mind how sound your judgment
had been in everything touching his interest—”

“Well, all that at another time. William's judgment in this
matter is and ought to be his guide. In considering my proposition,
forget that I am your Uncle; forget all the good that I have ever done
you, and decide upon it with perfect freedom of will. I'll put it
in the right view before you: Suppose that Mr. Cunningham was to
come and make you precisely the offer which I make you; what
would you say to it?”

“I would refuse it from him; but—”

“That's enough, my son—”

“But, brother, I don't think that because he would refuse the offer
from Mr. Cunningham, it follows by any means that he would not
freely and voluntarily accept it from you.”

“No, Uncle; Mr. Cunningham has never done me the favors that
you have; he's no relation of mine; I do not respect his judgment
as I do yours; and to prove what I say, I now tell you that though
I never was as much attached to anything in all my life as I am to
Snap-dragon, I freely and voluntarily, and of my own judgment
alone, accept your proposition; and you shall say whether the pay
for the horse shall be in books or a negro boy.”

“No, my son; I admire your kind feelings towards me; they are

a full return for all that I have done for you; but I can't base a
trade upon them. You are willing to accommodate me; but you
are not willing to part with your horse—though you think you are.
He is yours, my dear boy, and I will not purchase him from you
upon any other considerations than those which would influence you
in a trade with a stranger.”

“Why, brother, that seems to me a very strange refinement.”

“I don't think so, sister. Suppose I had opened the proposition
in this way: `William, I regret that I gave you that horse. Now,
I gave him to you unasked for; I am your Uncle, who loves you;
who has done a great deal for you; to whom you owe a large debt
of gratitude, but for whom you would never have gone to Mr.
Waddel's school, and by consequence must have lost all the honors
you have gained there; in all which, as in many other instances,
you have seen how much better my judgment is as to your true interests
than yours; now, in my judgment, the horse will do you
more harm than good; yield, therefore, to my judgment—return my
love and kindness, by giving me back the horse.' Would you think
all this right?”

“No, certainly; for that would be just working upon the child's
feelings, to get from him his horse for nothing; but you propose
to give him more than the value of the horse, and in better property.”

“Then there is no difference between the case at hand, and the
case put, but in the return that is offered to him for the horse. It
is right to work on his feelings in any way I please to get his horse
from him, provided, I give him for him what you and I think a fine
price! Is that your doctrine? Don't you think that William ought
to have a will in the matter?”

“Oh, pshaw! The cases are not at all alike. You havn't gone on
with all that string of appeals to his heart; you would not let me
even speak of your better judgment; you forewarned him not to let
his decision be governed in any way by his relation to you or your
kindness to him. He's not a man to judge of prices, and of what
will be best for him.”

“Nevertheless, he has all the rights of a man in trade. It would
be very silly in him to refuse five thousand for his horse; but if he
chose to do so, I don't think you would force him to take it, and I
am sure I would not—”

“Well, if he was such a simpleton as to refuse five thousand dollars
for his horse, I don't know but I would force him to take it. I

certainly would advice him strenuously to take it. But what has all
this to do with the case? Have you forced him?”

“No, but he is acting upon precisely the feelings that my supposed
appeals to his sensibilities would have produced.”

“And are they not praiseworthy feelings, brother?”

“Highly praiseworthy, sister! Too praiseworthy to be abused;
and it would be an abuse of them in me, to avail myself of them to
deprive him of a piece of property which he does not wish to part
with. And now, my dear boy, I withdraw my proposition; and let
it not distress you the least in the world, that I have done so. Do
not suppose that I will blame you, or harbor any unkind feelings
towards you for your reluctance to part with him—”

“But Uncle, I tell you again, I am willing to part with him to you
—perfectly willing—”

“Well, my son, I think the more of you for that; but let us drop
the matter. Keep your horse, son, but don't think of taking him to
Dr. Waddel's. I have not yet fully made up my mind whether I
have authority to forbid your so doing—I incline to the opinion that
standing as I do in the place of a parent to you, duty requires me
to interdict positively your keeping a horse at Willington; but I
hope you will not force me to decide that question by attempting to
take him. I have many things to say against it, but let these suffice:
You've spoiled that horse—he is dangerous to others, if not
to you—you will have fifty students on his back, and some of them
may get hurt—perhaps killed by him. He will be a useless expense
to your mother—the summer months are now gone—he will interfere
with your studies—dispatch of letters between here and Willington
is of no consequence, and the weather will be too cold for you to go
off to preaching with Mr. Waddel.”

“Now, brother,” said Mrs. Mitten, “don't understand me in what
I say, as interfering in the least with your authority over William,
or as opposing my judgment to yours, or as raising the slightest objection
to your dealing with him in this matter as you think best;
but simply as asking an explanation of you. William offers you his
horse on your own terms; you refuse him because he does not offer
him from the right motives, or the right feelings, or something else
that I don't understand, and yet you doubt whether you will allow
him to use him as he wishes to. How do you reconcile these
views?”

“It will be time enough to reconcile them when I come to act
upon them; but should I deem it my duty to forbid his keeping a

horse at Willington, I should reconcile them just as you would in
giving a toy to your child, and forbidding him to use it to the annoyance
of your household, or to the injury of himself.”

“But William is not now a child, and I am sure that he would
obey your directions strictly in the use of him.”

“Yes, Uncle; you may just lay down the law, and I will obey it
strictly in every thing.”

“But I cannot anticipate all the ways in which you may mis-use
him.”

“Brother, will you take it amiss if I venture a word of advice
here?”

“No; by no means. I will always hear your views in reference
to your child with pleasure; and what is more I will always take it,
if I am not confident that it will operate to the prejudice of your
son.”

“Well I know that you take a pleasure in indulging him in every
thing you can, that you do not think will be injurious to him.”

“True!”

“And I am equally sure that William has reaped too many benefits
from obedience to you, ever to disobey you again in anything. Now,
this plan has occurred to me: September, though a fall month is
always a warm, relaxing, sickly month in this climate; and as he has
been much on horse-back, during the vacation, it may injure his
health to break off suddenly from this exercise, and set himself down
to severe study. I know he has made rather a bad use of his horse
during the vacation, but he can't do so at school. You have enumerated
the evils you apprehend from his keeping a horse there, and
that will be sufficient to guard him against them; for he has told me
over and over again, that he believed he had the best Uncle in the
world; that you had only to tell him what to do, and he would do it
if it were to go to the earth's end. Now give him any other orders
or cautions about the horse that you think proper; let him keep him
only while the weather continues warm, and as soon as it turns cool,
I will send Tom for him and fetch him home, if you say so. The
short vacation at Christmas will soon be here, and if he keeps him
till then, he can ride him home, and save us the trouble of sending
for him. But no matter for that, if you say send for him before, it
shall be done. As for the expenses of keeping the horse, it will
cost no more to keep him there than here, nor as much; and there,
he will be of some use, and here he will be of none. But the great
benefit I promise myself from it, is William's delightful improving
trips with Mr. Waddel to his preaching places.”

“William,” said the Captain, “retire a little, while your mother
and I discuss this matter a little farther.”

William retired.

“Do you know, Anna,” continued the Captain, “that nothing has
fallen from William in three months, which has pained me, not to
say offended me, so much, as that Rocky River plea for keeping a
horse? Here he has been in the midst of preaching, and various
religious exercises for three or four weeks, and except on the Sabbath,
he has hardly ever darkened a Church door in the day time,
and never at night, unless you pressed him into your service; and
now all of a sudden he has taken a wonderful yearning to accompany
Mr. Waddel upon his preaching excursions.”

“Brother, I think the day has gone by when William would deceive;
and I am very happy in having it in my power to explain
this thing to your satisfaction. I talked to William about his taking
so little interest in the meetings, and he said that he wanted recreation
after his hard study, for the long term. That he would soon
have to renew his studies for ten long months, with only two weeks
vacation at Christmas, and that if he did not improve his health in
the vacation he would break down. That he had been to preaching in
the country several times when there was preaching in town, because he
could take exercise in going there. Now at school the state of things
will be just reversed. He will be kept constantly employed except
on Saturdays and Sundays, and he would be desirous of exercising
on those days and doing good at the same time.”

The Captain looked doubtingly, and said no more upon that
head; but he returned from the episode:

“Anna,” said he, “I am very anxious to accommodate you and
William, but I have awful misgivings about this horse affair. There
is much weight in what you have said; but it does not satisfy me.
What a world of trouble one false step may give a man! What
eternal vigilance must a man keep up, both upon himself and his
charge, who has the government of boys! Now, if I refuse to
comply with your wishes, and by any chance in the world William
should happen to get sick, you will ascribe it to my needless rigor,
and carelessness about his health. I erred in giving him the horse,
and I am not absolutely certain that after having given him, I ought
to control his use of him, simply upon my apprehensions that it will
be mischievous. Perhaps no evil will grow out of it for one short
month, or a month and a half at farthest, for surely we shall have
frost in that time, and by giving William proper precautions, it may

be that all will turn out well at last. You and William will be accommodated,
my doubts will be removed, (if they can be called doubts)
about interfering with his right of property in the present state of
things, and possibly his health may be improved, or at least preserved
by it. Call him back and let me give him my charge.”

William came.

“I have concluded, son, to let you keep your horse at Mr. Waddel's,
upon these conditions: You are to ride him no where but to the
school house and back to your boarding house, except on Saturdays.
On those days, you are to ride him to no grog shops, gatherings or
frolics, nor more than six miles from Willington, anywhere, except to
Vienna, and there, only to mail your own letters—don't forget this
condition. You are never to go to Vienna unless you go to mail a
letter of your own, addressed to your mother or myself. All your
letters to others, you must carry to the office when you go to mail
your letters to one of us. You are not to go simply to enquire for
letters—enquire for them when you go to mail your own. When
you go under these restrictions, you may of course carry letters and
bring letters for your school-mates—you are not to ride your horse at
all on the Sabbath, except to accompany Mr. Waddel to some preaching
appointment. You are to loan him to no student—I'll give you
a paper to show them, that will excuse you to them for not loaning
your horse to them. When your mother sends for your horse, you
are to give him up without a murmur, and if you keep him till
Christmas, you are to bring him home and leave him here.”

William subscribed to the terms cheerfully, and showed by his
countenance that he suffered no distress from his Uncle's over-refinement
in trade. On the second of September he and Tom took the
road to Willington—Tom with saddle-bags which bent upwards with
stuffing. On reaching Willington, William selected for his boarding
house one of the remotest from the school house that he could
find, with any students in it. It contained two pretty wild fellows.
A single day here convinced him that he had made a great change
for the better, in boarding houses. The eating was better, the sleeping
was better, than at Newby's, and here he understood he would
not have to cut his own wood and make his own fires. “Why
didn't I come here at first?” thought he. “Smith,” said he,
“does Mr. Waddel ever come round here of nights?” “No,” said
Smith, “it's too far off for him to come boguing about to, of nights;
and if he was to come one time, he wouldn't come again, for I'd
make him smell the face of a brick-bat.”

As there were no brick-bats about Willington, we infer from this
remark that Smith was a city gentleman.

“And you've no Monitor here?” enquired William.

“No;” said Jones, “Old Moses is got more sense than to make
Smith monitor over me, or me over him. He knows we'd never
spunk one another.”

William was in transports with his new location. His appearance
at school on horseback, created quite a sensation among the students;
divers of whom got spunked “for looking at William Mitten's horse
in study hours”—in short for being idle, but in detail as just stated.
As Doctor Waddel was about mounting old Hector, at 12 o'clock on
the second day after William's return, he saw William riding Snap-dragon,
to water, and he joined him.

“William,” said the Doctor, “have you quit boarding at Mr.
Newby's?”

“Yes sir.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Did Mr. or Mrs. Newby say or do anything
to offend you?”

“No sir, but Uncle allows me to board where I please, and I preferred
boarding at Mr. —'s.”

“Is that your horse?”

“Yes sir.”

The Doctor cleared his throat sadly and prophetically, and proceeded:

“That horse, William, is going to bring you into trouble, and I
advise you to write to your mother immediately to send for him and
take him away; and I advise you to get back to Mr. Newby's as soon
as possible.”

“I don't expect to keep him long Mr. Waddel—only till the
weather turns cool.”

“That may be quite too long. William I have been keeping
school many years, and I declare to you, my son, that no student
under me has ever done anything to fill me with such fears, anxieties
and griefs as you have, in these seemingly small matters of changing
your boarding house, and keeping a horse here. What day of the
month is this? The fifth, isn't it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is your name upon either of these beech-trees, William?”

“Yes sir.”

“Come show me which.”

“There it is,” said William as they approached a beech.

“Very prettily carved. Do you keep a pocket-book, William?”

“Yes sir.”

“Write down in your pocket-book the year and the day of the
month, in which you and I took our first and last look together at
your name on that beech.”

“Why, Mr. Waddel, I haven't done anything wrong, have I?”

“Nothing morally wrong my son, nothing morally wrong. I
have a deep interest in you William, and so has your country. Hundreds
will regret to be disappointed in you. Lay to heart the advice
I am about to give, and follow it as you respect me, as you love your
Uncle, as you love yourself, as you love your mother, as you love
your country. Till you send home that horse, be more studious than
you have ever been, more strict in observing the rules of the school,
more watchful of what you say and do, more careful of where you
go, than you have ever been. And as soon as you dispose of the
horse, come back to Mr. Newby's—Mr. —'s is too far for you
to walk.”

“I've paid my board for a quarter.”

“No matter for that. Get back to Newby's as soon as you can,
and I'll arrange the matter of board with Mr. —.”

“Mr. Waddel, X. Jones and Z. Smith board at Mr. —'s.”

“I know they do, but—they keep no horse. Good day! Remember
the fifth of September and the beech tree!”

William did not move from the spot where Doctor Waddel left
him, for five minutes. He was alarmed, he could not tell why.
“What,” thought he, “can there be in keeping a horse, that is so
horrible to Uncle and Mr. Waddel! It's the strangest thing in the
world!”