 | CHAPTER XXI. Master William Mitten, or, A youth of brilliant talents, who was ruined by bad luck |  |
21. CHAPTER XXI.
So delighted was Mrs. Mitten with the first part of Dr. Waddel's
letter, that she rushed with it half read to her son, and recommenced
the reading for his edification and comfort. With the close of almost
every sentence, she would ejaculate, “Dear, good man!”
“How kind!” “Such a man is a national blessing!” “Who can
help loving him!” But when she came to the whipping part, she
was unable to read without comments, and with becoming composure.
Having finished the perusal, “Well,” said she, “upon the
whole, it is a sweet letter; but I cannot see the necessity of his
whipping a boy of your size a month after the offence is committed,
and when he himself admits that there are so many circumstances of
extenuation in the case. If everybody else is ready to forgive and
forget, why might not he? But, William, as these are the only
terms upon which you can get back and save your credit, I think
you had better go. I will write to Mr. Waddel, informing him of
your deep contrition, and begging him if he can possibly pass over
the offence without correction, consistently with his sense of duty,
to do so; but if not, then in the midst of justice, to remember mercy.
Surely, under all the circumstances of the case, the purposes of
justice would be as fully answered by two or three stripes, as by—”
“Two or three stripes!” said Bill, “why, he gives double that for
simple idleness; and if he were to let me off with two or three
take ten such as he commonly gives in the summer time, when the
boys wear thin breeches, than three such as he gave one boy named
Sapling, when he found his legs wrapped up with strips of shirt. If
I go back, and he lets me off with less than ten peelers, or fifteen of
the common sort, I shall think myself lucky.”
“Oh, William, you make Mr. Waddel a perfect enigma; how
could a man of his kindness of heart, be so inhuman!”
“He doesn't think it inhuman to whip students who violate his
laws; but it is not worth while to talk about it, ma, for I'm not
going back to Mr. Waddel's. As to the whipping, I shouldn't mind
that, so very much, if I could believe that I would be put back to
where I was before I committed the offences; but I know that that
can never be.”
“Well, my son, I hardly know what to advise. You surely were
born under an unlucky star. Always, always there is something
which obstructs the way which seems best for you to pursue. How
unfortunate was it that your uncle gave you that horse! How much
more unfortunate, that you did not accept his offer for him before
your return to Willington! Oh! were he now in life I would surrender
you to his government, and never have an opinion of my own
upon it, during your minority. But in this single instance of giving
you the horse—and there he soon saw his error, and did all that he
could do to correct it—his views have always proved right, while
mine, however carefully taken, invariably turn out unfortunately.”
“Well, ma, you may console yourself with this reflection, that if
Uncle David were alive, he could not force me back to Mr. Waddel's.”
“Yes, William, if he were alive, and felt convinced that your future
destiny hung upon it, you would have to go. He would have
reasoned with you, he would have persuaded you, at first; but if he
found these means unavailing, he would have carried you back to
school at all hazards. But it is in vain to talk of supposed cases. I
cannot do what he might have done. What say you, will you go back
or not?”
“No, ma'am; never, never, never!”
“William, my feelings are against your going, but my convictions
are strong and pungent that you ought to go. Something
whispers me that if you go, you will be great; if you do not, you
will be ruined. Will you submit to Mr. Markham's advice in the
matter?”
“No, ma; I've thought the matter all over, and I've made up my
mind, coolly and deliberately, never to go back to Mr. Waddel's.”
Now the truth of the matter is, that though Master Mitten, while
suffering the first tortures of his exposed guilt, and supposed disgrace,
would very readily have submitted to a severe whipping, to
have regained his lost ground; as he became more familiar with his
disgrace, it began to set very easily on him, while the whipping assumed
a new interest in his cogitations, and became more and more
imposing, as the disgrace became less and less distressing: so that
when the consultation occurred which we have just noticed, the
whipping crowded clean out of Master Mitten's mind, every other
consideration. It brought him, therefore, to a very decided judgment
from which nothing could move him which lay within the range of
his mother's devices. And yet there was a lady living within three
hundred yards of Mrs. Mitten's house, a beneficiary of hers, who
did not know A from a deer's track, who would have managed the
case to perfection without the help of Mr. Markham. That woman
was no other than Mrs. Nancy Brown, mother of John Brown, surnamed
Pœtus, which is by interpretation, Pink-Eyed. We opine
that if Mrs. Brown had been in the place of Mrs. Mitten, and Master
John in the place of Master William, she would have given him,
the said John, such a “cawhalloping,” that Dr. Waddel's best “fifteen”
would have been a Charlotte-russe to it. We have no doubt
that John would have given his “cawhalloping” for the “fifteen,”
and made one of his best bows to Dr. Waddel, to boot.
No alternative was now left to Mrs. Mitten but to procure a clerkship
for William in some store of the village. Two of the merchants,
Mr. Sanders and Mr. Dillon, had been enquiring for clerks, a little
while before Mrs. Mitten took the rounds in her son's behalf.
She went first to Mr. Sanders.
“Mr. Sanders,” said she, “don't you wish to employ a clerk in
your store?”
“Yes, madam,” said Mr. Sanders, “very much indeed.”
“Well, I would be very glad if you would take my son William—”
“Your son William, Mrs. Mitten! why surely you are not going
to take such a smart boy as that from school, to make a clerk of him!”
“He has quit school—”
“Quit school! Why, how did that happen?”
“He got dissatisfied, and wished to get into some employment,
and desires a clerkship—”
“Dear, dear, dear! How thoughtless boys are! Why, Mrs. Mitten,
you oughtn't to allow him to quit school. That boy was cut out
for a great man—yes, for a very great man—”
“Well, Mr. Sanders, his talents will not be in the way of your employing
him, I hope.”
“Oh, no, ma'am, no! I prefer a smart boy to a dull one, certainly;
but it does look like such a sacrifice to put such a boy as that behind
the counter! If he's determined to quit school, he ought, by all
means, to study law or physic.”
“He's too young for that.”
“Oh—ah, yes. He's too young to go into any sort of business.
A store, in such a place as this, is a very dangerous place for a youth
of William's age. I never could forgive myself if I should take
him into my store at his tender age, and he should turn out badly—”
“But he will be constantly under your eye and mine, Mr. Sanders.”
“Ah, there's the difficulty, Mrs. Mitten. He will not be constantly
under my eye. I have long trips to make to the North twice a
year—repeated trips to Augusta and Savannah. But, Mrs. Mitten,
if you are disposed to risk it, such is my regard for you and your
family—but he is too young—entirely too young!”
“Why, Mr. Sanders, he can't be younger than young Dally was
when you first took him; and he did well while he was with you,
and went out of your store to preaching.”
“Very true, very true, Mrs. Mitten. But young Dally was the son
of a widow—and—so is William; and thus far the cases are alike.
But Mrs. Dally was a poor widow, with a number of sons, and you
are a rich widow with but one son. It was a charity (somewhat) to
take her son, but it would be no charity to take yours. And, you
see, moreover, besides, Mrs. Mitten, you would never be satisfied
with the wages for William that I gave young Dally—”
“I don't care, Mr. Sanders, if you give him no wages at all—”
“Oh, bless my soul, Mrs. Mitten, that would never do! I couldn't
think of taking your boy for nothing.”
“Well just give him what you think proper. It is not for the pay
that I wish to put him under you, but simply to acquaint himself
with the mercantile business. I will board him and clothe him myself,
and if you choose to give him anything, very well; it will go to
him, and he won't care whether it is much or little.”
“Ah, there you are mistaken, Mrs. Mitten. William would never
be satisfied to see other boys in town, not half as smart as he is, getting
him at all. Besides, I can't think of fixing his wages myself. If I
take him, it must be under contract with you, in which his wages
must be settled to our mutual satisfaction. William must have nothing
to do with it. Now what would you be willing to take for his
services?”
“Why, bless my soul, Mr. Sanders, I know nothing about such
matters. I'm willing to take anything you choose to give.”
Mr. Sanders looked down, scratched his head, and said rather to
himself, than to Mrs. Mitten: “How shall we fix this thing. I dislike
very much that any obstacle should stand in the way of my getting
the services of such a brilliant youth as he is. But, stop, stop,
stop. Does William understand Arithmetic pretty well? If he
doesn't, you know it would be impossible for me to employ him.”
“I presume he does; he was considered very smart at figures by
his teachers here.”
“Well, if that's the case, I reckon we shall be enabled to get along.
Send him to-morrow morning, Mrs. Mitten, at nine o'clock precisely,
and I will try him a little at figures, and if he does well, why then,
that will take away the only insuperable obstacle to employing him.”
Mrs. Mitten promised to send him over at the appointed time, and
retired.
The Mr. Sanders of whom we have been speaking, was Mr. D.
Sanders, who was doing business with his brother, Mr. B. Sanders,
under the copartnership name of D. & B. Sanders. The last, however,
was little more than a dormant partner.
The conversation just detailed was hardly ended before it reached
Mr. Dillon's ears, who, at precisely nine o'clock the next morning,
closed doors, and “absquatulated,” as Billy Munford would say, alias
“vamoosed,” alias was “taken with a getting away.”
William was prompt to Mr. Sanders' appointed hour.
“Well, William,” said Mr. Sanders, “your mother tells me you
are going to quit school, and take to clerking. Is it so?”
“Yes, sir, I am bent upon that.”
“Dear me, dear me, what a pity! Why, William, you were cut
out for something greater than a counter-hopper. I earnestly advise
you, my son, to go on and finish your education. Everybody says
that if you only take the right turn, you will be one of the greatest
men that Georgia ever produced. Now, are you going to disappoint
us all? I want a clerk badly, but I had rather do without
a clerk a twelve month, than be the means of turning you aside
in the right way. So reluctant am I to offering you any encouragement
to give up your fine prospects, that I am really afraid your
mother took up the idea that I didn't wish to employ you. Now,
William, take an old man's advice; return to school, complete your
education, study law, be studious, be moral, and by and by you'll
never get done thanking me for stopping you in the course you are
now pursuing.”
“Mr. Sanders,” said William, “I've heard my talents spoken of
and praised ever since I was a child, and instead of doing me any
good, they have done me nothing but harm—”
“Oh, my son, the time hasn't come yet for you to reap the benefits
of your talents. Look at lawyer M—, and lawyer C—,
and lawyer J.—, who had nothing to depend upon but their talents;
where are they now? All on the high road to fortune and to
fame! Now I don't believe either of them had as bright talents as
you have.”
Just here Mr. B. Sanders, who was rarely seen about the store, rode
up, dismounted, and walked into the counting room.
“My mind is made up, Mr. Sanders,” said William, “and if you
will not employ me, I must seek a place elsewhere.”
“Well, if you are determined to go into a store—which store would
you prefer?”
“I prefer yours greatly to any store in town.”
“Well, however desirous I may be to employ you, you know yourself,
my son, that I can't do it unless you understand figures pretty
well.”
“Of course not,” said William.
“Well, here take the slate and pencil, and let me try you a little.
How much will five and a half yards of cloth come to, at five and a
half dollars a yard?”
The question was no sooner asked, than William answered it by
his head without touching pencil to slate. Mr. Sanders took the
slate, ciphered it up, found the answer correct, rubbed out his calculation,
and returned the slate to William, saying, “Very well done,
my son; but that's head-work, and it won't do to keep merchants'
accounts by the head; do it on the slate.”
William did it on the slate in less time than Mr. Sanders did it.
“Very well. How much will eighteen pounds and three quarters
of sugar come to, at eighteen and three quarter cents a pound.”
William gave the answer promptly, not by his head, but according
to Pike.
“Very well, William! Very promptly and quickly done! How
much will five-eighths of a yard of cloth come to at five eighths of a
dollar a yard.”
William soon presented the answer.
“It isn't right my son,” said Mr. Sanders.
William reviewed it.
“Yes, it is right, Mr. Sanders,” said William.
Sanders looked over it again and acknowledged his error.
“Well, William,” said Mr. Sanders, “I will put a few more questions
to you and then release you. How much will seven and a
quarter yards of cloth come to at one pound, seven shillings and sixpence
ha'penny sterling a yard?”
William gave the answer correctly.
“Well, let me try you a little at interest.” He put down upon
the slate “$567 ¼” and handed it to William. “There,” said he,
“give me the interest on that sum for a month and a half, at eight
per cent.”
William took the slate, placed a dot to the right of the first figure
and handed it back, saying “there's the answer sir—six dollars,
sixty-seven and a quarter cents.”
Mr. Sanders went over the sum in the common way, while William
stood chuckling. When he brought out the result just as
William had it, he looked at him with perfect amazement. “Well,
William,” said he, “I believe you are the smartest boy at figures
that I ever saw in all my life.”
Here Mr. B. Sanders stepped in. “Why, brother,” said he,
“have you turned school master?”
“No,” said Mr. D., “I was trying William on arithmetic, to see
if he would answer for a clerk for us.”
“Why, I've engaged a clerk,” said Mr. B. Sanders.
“You have!” said Mr. D., “who is it?”
“John Dally, brother of our old clerk.”
“Why brother, there never was a Dally to compare with William
Mitten at figures! I verily believe he is better than both of us put
together. Couldn't you get off from your engagement with Mrs.
Dally, so that we may employ William?”
“I suppose I could, if I were to ask her to let me off, but that's
not my way of dealing.”
“Well, William,” said Mr. D. Sanders, “you see how it is—we
shall have to give you up. Tell your mother, that I was not only
satisfied with your knowledge of arithmetic, but that I was delighted
wanted a clerk, had employed one.”
William went home and related all that had passed between him
and Mr. D. Sanders.
“Well, was there ever such an unlucky mortal born, William, as
you are!” said Mrs. Mitten. “It seems almost supernatural.”
On Mr. Dillon's return home, which was two days and a half after
his “absquatulation,” Mrs. Mitten waited on him to know if he
would not employ her son. But Mr. Dillon had just engaged a
young man, who had been highly recommended to him.
Mrs. Mitten now made application to every other merchant in
town, but they were all supplied with clerks; they all spoke, however,
in the highest terms of William's talents.
“And what will you do now, my son,” said she, “seeing your
favorite plan is broken up?”
“I really don't know, mother; I am at the end of my row.”
Mr. Markham, hearing of her disappointment, called upon Mrs.
Mitten and proposed to her to let William go on with his cousin
David, George Markham, and John Brown, and fit himself for college
under Doctor Finley, a celebrated teacher at Basken Ridge,
New Jersey. “If,” said Mr. Markham, “William will apply himself
closely to the study of Greek and Mathematics, (the only studies
in which he is deficient,) he will be able to enter the Freshman
class in six months with case, I am certain.”
The proposition was readily embraced by both the mother and the
son; and while she commenced his outfit for the journey, he commenced
the study of Greek assiduously.
| CHAPTER XXI. Master William Mitten, or, A youth of brilliant talents, who was ruined by bad luck | |