 | CHAPTER II. Master William Mitten, or, A youth of brilliant talents, who was ruined by bad luck |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
The reader will remember that we left Mrs. Mitten resolved to
remove Master William from Mr. Markham's school. Her resolution
was carried into effect; and she forthwith began to look out for
a private teacher for her son. But unluckily no such teacher was
just then to be found; she was constrained, therefore, to advertise
for one; and though she placed her advertisement in three Gazettes,
of pretty general circulation, three months rolled away before any
one proffered his services to Master William. In the meantime our
little hero was a gentleman at large; and having formed many
acquaintances at school, common courtesy required that he should
give them as much of his attention as he could. Accordingly he
was with them at every intermission of their studies, and took great
pleasure in attending the evening parties of such as were smart
enough to do without evening study. These soon became so frequent
that William entirely neglected his mother's parties for them; by
means whereof his mother and her friends lost the entertainment
which he used to afford them upon such occasions. She often demanded
of him explanations of his discourtesy to his old admirers,
which he promptly gave to her entire satisfaction. Sometimes he
was at the Juvenile Debating Society; at others he was at a Prayer
Meeting; at one time he “went to hear Parson Deleth's Lecture.”
(On the importance of the Oriental Languages to the student of
Theology.) At another he went to hear the Euterpean band;
and at all other times he was taking tea with good boys, or engaged
in some laudable employment. As the young Glibs had rather more
leisure than any other boys in town, and as their mother had
charged them to cultivate a close acquaintance with Master William,
they were frequently thrown together. At first William was rather
shy of those acquaintances; but as they forced themselves into his
company, pleading their mother's order for so doing, he could not
well refuse to take them under his moral training. Accordingly
they soon became very intimate; and William was pleased to find
that they were by no means as bad boys as his mother took them to
fund of information, which they communicated to him freely; first
to his astonishment, and afterwards to his delight. They knew who
had the best apples, peaches, plums, cherries and melons in the town
and neighborhood—what gardens contained the most strawberries,
raspberries, grapes, figs and pomegranates—who had the earliest
and latest fruits—what time bad dogs were turned loose at night—
where hens, guinea-chickens, ducks and turkeys, were in the habit
of laying. They were masters of all culinary matters, except the
higher branches of cookery. They were abolitionists of the most
generous stamp; disdaining the distinctions of color, and holding
out the most liberal encouragements to slave industry, by promising
the most liberal prices for such little dainties and curiosities as the
poor slave might have to dispose of. Nor were these young gentlemen
without personal accomplishments, corresponding with their
vast mental endowments. They were the most expert climbers of
trees and fences in the country. They were good riders and better
runners. Though one of them was two months, another fifteen and
another thirty-seven months older than William, they could slip
through gaps that he feared to attempt. They could heel a game-cock,
whet a jack-knife, and shoot a pistol, with unrivalled skill—
their age considered. They could recognize people in the dark
with the eye of an owl; and run half-bent in gutters and ditches,
faster than William could, on a plain. They could perform many
amusing and ingenious tricks with cards; and smoke segars, chew
tobacco and drink cordial, apple-toddy, egg-nog and the like, with
marvelous grace and impunity.
At the end of three or four weeks from the time that William left
school, Mr. Markham's examination came off, and most of the town
attended it. The visitors were, as usual, liberal in their praises of
such as did well; and these, William, who was present, heard with
painful emotions. They were praises which made his tea-party-compliments
seem insignificant. Here was competition, and not one was
praised, of whom he did not know himself to be decidedly the
superior. The examination closed with an allotment of prizes to the
best in the several classes, by judges appointed for that purpose.
William saw one and another distributed with increasing dejection
and self-reproach. At length George Markham was called out on the
stage, and Judge Dawson advancing to him with a large silver medal,
suspended by a crimson ribbon with tasteful decorations, observed:
“Master George, in the course of the examination you have labored
their high respect for your teacher, might be unconsciously transferred
to his son, have been more vigilant of inaccuracies in you
than in any of your school mates. So well have you acquitted yourself,
however, that you have entirely relieved us from all apprehension
of doing you injustice on either hand, and we presume there will not
be a dissenting voice in this large and respectable assembly, to our
judgment, which awards to you the first honor in your class; in token
of which we present you this beautiful medal. Remember,” continued
Judge Dawson, as he placed the loop of the ribbon over the
head of Master George, and dropt the medal on his breast—“remember
as often as you look upon that medal, that on the day you received
it, you raised the highest expectations of your future distinction,
and resolved never to disappoint them.” As the judge concluded,
the house thundered with applause. William dropt his head
and wept bitterly; for he felt that all this would have been his, had
he remained at school.
In the afternoon the usual exhibition came off. We may not
dwell upon the performances of each of the students respectively.
For reasons which will be hereafter observed, we notice but two.
The fourth speaker called out was Master John Brown! John
stept out so completely metamorphosed, that William himself hardly
knew him. His hair was combed down straight and slick. The
lard-gourd had obviously been laid under contributions for it. His
feet were disguised under shoes and stockings. His suit was all new
and of course all of one color. His mother had tried herself upon
it from the spinning of the first thread, to the fitting of it on. But
nature had decreed that John should be a funny looking fellow in
spite of dress; and as he stept to the centre of the stage, as if laboring
under a slight founder, (for shoes manifestly pestered him) an
involuntary smile diffused itself over every countenance. He made
his bow, and in a clear, distinct audible voice he began:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: You will not be surprised that I should
have selected as my theme for your entertainment this afternoon the
incalculable advantages of personal beauty.”
Here it seemed that the house would be knocked to pieces. Men,
women and children laughed and thumped immoderately; and even
Mr. Markham could not preserve his usual gravity. Mrs. Brown
plainly showed that her trouble in rigging out John was repaid by
the very first sentence. With almost every other, the same scene
was renewed; until at length all respect for order seemed to be forgotten;
all over the house: Well done, flat-head! Hurra short-neck!
Bravo pug-nose! I tell you stiff-leg is some! Give me homespun
at last. John concluded, and had it been allowable, he, doubtless,
would have been encored at least three times. He owed most of his
credit to the patient and careful drilling of his teacher, but there
were few in the school who could have improved good drilling as
well as John did.
Next to John's speech, the most amusing thing in the exhibition
was a dialogue between George Markham and David Thompson,
which elicited great applause. At the conclusion of the exercises,
honors were a second time distributed, and young Markham was
again complimented with a prize. Brown got one, of course, which
was rendered doubly complimentary, by another peal of applause as
he received it.
All this was slow murder to William Mitten. Nor did his tortures
end here. Seeing his uncle and Mr. Markham in conversation as
the company retired, he flattered himself that they were negotiating
for his return to school, and he drew near to them unobserved by
either, and overheard this conversation:
“That little fellow Brown is an odd looking fish, Mr. Markham,
but there's some gumption in him after all.”
“He's rough material to polish, but he has some talent; and if he
can be made to study, he may be a man of worth yet.”
“I congratulate you on the very handsome manner in which your
son acquitted himself in everything.”
“He may thank Mrs. Mitten for his honors of to-day, for had she
suffered her son to remain at school, George would not have touched
a single honor. When William studied (and he had begun to study
well) he was vastly superior to George in everything. The dialogue
was written on purpose to show off his wonderful dramatic talent.
George's part was designed for him, and your son's for George; and
I'll venture to say, that I can take William and read over the part to
him but once, and he will perform it decidedly better than George
did. He spoke before me but three or four times while he was with
me. The first time, I read over his piece to him after he had repeated
it, and made him deliver it again; and I was amazed to see
how exactly he followed my reading in every respect. Take him
altogether, I think he is decidedly the smartest boy I ever had in my
school.” Here the conversation was interrupted by the congratulations
of several other gentlemen.
William went home in tortures, and hardly slept a wink that night.
He would have given the world for the honors and praises which
George Markham had received that day; and he would have been
willing to have changed persons with John Brown, for the trophies
which John had won.
The next morning he recounted to his mother all the events of the
day, and particularly the conversation which he had heard between
his uncle and Mr. Markham. She was now stung nearly, or quite
as deeply as her son. But what could she do? Her vow was out
and it must be kept.
“Well, my child,” said she despondingly, “all this only goes to
show that you are born to ill-luck. But I hope it is all for the best.
Those who are unlucky in youth are apt to be lucky in old age, it is
said—and I hope it will be so with you.”
“Ma, when you get your private teacher will he have any exhibitions?”
“No, my son, he will have no scholar but you.”
“Then I don't want to go to a private teacher.”
“But remember my child, that as he will have but you one to attend
to, he can teach you a great deal better, and bring you on a
great deal faster than Mr. Markham could, who has so many in
charge. And study well, and you will soon enter college, where
you will have an opportunity of showing off your talents not simply
to a village, but to a whole State!”
“And how long will it be before I can go to college?”
“With your gifts, and a private teacher, I have no doubt you will
be prepared to enter college in four years at the outside.”
“Why, Ma, I'll be dead before four years!”
“Oh, I hope not; they will roll round before you are aware
of it.”
As the private teacher had not yet been found, William had nothing
to do for the present, and he resumed his attention to public
and devotional exercises, in fellowship with the young Glibs, and
others of their stamp.
A few days after this Parson Turner was announced as wishing to
have a few minutes private conversation with Mrs. Mitten. He was
ushered into the parlor; and Mrs. Mitten soon followed him.
“Mrs. Mitten,” said the Parson, “I have called on you to beg of
you to keep your son at home on Wednesday nights. He and the
Glibs come to the church where we hold our prayer meetings, and
sometimes at the door, and sometimes in the gallery, keep up such a
to proceed with our devotions.”
“Why, Parson Turner, you must be mistaken! I have always
taught my child to treat religious services with the most profound
respect; and for reasons that need not be mentioned, I am confident
that he is hardly acquainted with the Glibs.”
“No, madam, there is no mistake about it. We all know him
very well.”
“Well, Parson Turner, I will enquire into the matter, and, if I
find it so, I will see to it that my son disturbs you no more.”
“Whether you find it so or not, I assure you madam it is so.”
So saying he took his leave. He had not been gone long when
William came in.
“William,” said his mother, do you associate with the Glibs?”
“They sometimes come to where I am, and then I can't get rid of
them; but I don't go where they are.”
“Well, now, I strictly forbid you from associating with those
boys. They are very bad boys and unfit company for you. Parson
Turner says you go with them to the church, and behave very rudely
during prayer meeting. Is that so, William?”
“'Twasn't me, Ma, it was the Glib-boys.”
“How came you there with the Glib-boys, at all?”
“I said I was going to the prayer meeting and they followed me.”
“Well, my son, I'm very glad to learn that you didn't misbehave
at the meeting. Brought up as piously as you have been, I
didn't think it possible that you could treat religious services with
contempt. When you go to such meetings, (which I am glad to
find you disposed to do) take your seat near the leader of them, and
bad boys will not follow you there. Never have anything to do with
boys that can trifle with sacred things. It's the worst sign in the
world.”
Mr. Turner went from Mrs. Mitten's to Mrs. Glib's, and repeated
his story.
Mrs. Glib received him with a careless chuckle, and said to him:
“Oh, Mr. Turner, I wouldn't mind little thoughtless boys; they will
have their fun; but they'll quit these things when they grow older.
I'm very cautions against reproving my children for little childish
freaks in church, lest I should excite in them a dangerous and lasting
prejudice against religion.
Mr. Turner, after sitting petrified for about a half minute, rose
and abruptly left the house.
About noon on the following Thursday, Mrs. Glib came over to
Mrs. Mitten's, in a great flurry. “Oh,” exclaimed she, as she
entered the house, “do you know, Mrs. Mitten, there's a warrant out
against all our children! I got wind of it and hid my children; but
I'm told they've got William”
“A warrant!” shrieked Mrs. M. “In mercy's name tell me
what has my child been doing to have a warrant out against him?”
“Oh, nothing of any consequence—don't be alarmed—nothing but
disturbing a prayer-meeting. Squire Crumb says there's no law for
it; and if there was, throwing stones at a house and setting off
squibs at the door would not be against the law; and if he was employed,
he'd blow it all up. But Judge Dawson says there is a law
against disturbing worshipping assemblies. I was afraid of this,
when Turner went about complaining of the boys for their little
sports. You know such things always make them mad and worse
than ever.”
Mrs. Mitten was nearly distracted; for her head was filled with
jails, and punishment, and eternal disgrace, which she supposed the
invariable accompaniments of warrants. Her brother David was sent
for, post-haste; and he was soon at Mr. Justice Easy's office, where
William was under arrest. A short interview between him and
Parson Turner settled the matter amicably. The latter told him all
that had transpired and said he saw no other way of stopping these
hopeful youths; but that if Mr. Thompson would pledge himself
that they would disturb the meetings no more, he would stop the
prosecution. The pledge was given, and the matter was settled.—
This done, Mr. Thompson proceeded with William to his sister's,
where he found the two mothers.
“Where are your children, madam?” said Thompson sternly to
Mrs. Glib.
“Why, they—I expect they are—that is, I think likely—which
one of them?”
“Why, all of them, madam.”
“Oh, I have not seen one of them since quite early this morning.
What did you want with them, Captain Thompson?”
“I wished to know from their own lips whether, if I get them out
of this scrape, they'll let people pray in peace hereafter.”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes—I'll engage for them; and I will consider myself
under everlasting obligations to you Captain, if you'll get them
out.”
“I must have the pledge from their own lips.”
“Well, I'll run over home and see if they are not there. I've
no doubt they are, for they always come home about this hour—what
o'clock is it?”
“Half after twelve.”
“Oh, if it's as late as that, I'm sure I shall find them at home.
Stay a minute, Captain, and I'll run over and bring them.”
She soon returned with her three boys, who were placed with
William before the Captain.
“Do you know, young gentlemen,” said he with great solemnity,
“that you have violated the laws of your country? That a warrant
has been issued against you, to vindicate the offended majesty of the
people's laws?” (Here the ladies looked much alarmed.) “That,
unless somebody will befriend you, your mothers are liable to be
mulct in pounds of money; and that you are liable to be cast in
prison for ten long days and nights, with nothing to eat but bread
and water, and nothing to sleep on but the hard floor and a few
blankets? Then be dragged to a court of justice, before the eyes of
the whole world, and there to be tried, by a jury of twelve men duly
empanelled to pass between you and your injured, insulted country?
Then, when convicted, (as you are certain to be,) that you are to be
turned over to Judge Dawson, (who always respects religion, and
whose wife is a most excellent member of the church,) to be dealt
with according to the law in such case made and provided? And
do you furthermore know, that all four of you are posting to the
devil just as fast as he would have you go? Do you know all this,
my hopeful young friends?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the boys.
“Very well. Now, I am disposed to befriend you all; but I desire
to know what I am to expect from you, if I do; for I don't wish
to get myself into any more trouble on your account. If I can be
certain that you will never get into any more such scrapes, I'll hush
up all this matter, as I know I can; but I must have a promise from
all of you that, if I do, I shall have no more such matters to hush
up. As for Bill there, I'll manage him myself: and if he goes to
disturbing religions meetings again, after the trouble he has given
me, and after I have snatched him from the clutches of the law, I'll
give him the timber myself, harder than Markham did, mother or
no mother, objection or no objection.”
“In such case, brother David, I think you would be perfectly
justifiable, after you have stood his security and”—
“Certainly, certainly,” said Mrs. Glib; “and in such case, I
too.”
“Well, will your children make the promise, or will they prefer
going to jail?”
“Why, Captain, I would not own them if they refused. They
are too high minded and honorable to refuse so great a favor upon
such easy terms.”
“Very well. George Washington Alexander Augustus Glib:
Do you promise me here, in the presence of your mother and Mrs.
Mitten, that if I stop this prosecution, so that it shall not harm you
or your mother, or your brothers, that you will never disturb another
religious meeting while you live, either by mouth, foot or hand,
inside or outside of the house; and that you will show no rudeness,
in any form or way, to Parson Turner, at any time or in any place?
Do you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thomas Jefferson Napoleon Bonaparte Glib: Do you make the
same promise that your brother has just made?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Benjamin Franklin Palaski Lafayette Glib: Do you make the
same promise?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, remain here five minutes, and if in that time I do not return,
you may be certain that the matter is satisfactorily settled.”
So saying he retired.
“Oh, Mrs. Mitten,” said Mrs. Glib, “what an excellent, excellent
man, that brother of yours is. I shall love him as long as I live.”
“Brother David has a good heart, though he is sometimes rough
in his manner. Was ever child so unfortunate as mine? It is an
old maxim that one had better be born lucky than rich, and I believe
it. Brother David will probably settle the suit; but who is to
wipe out the stain from my child's character?”
“Dear me, Mrs. Mitten, the thing will be forgotten in a week!
Everybody knows that it was but a childish frolic, that nobody but
old Turner would have noticed; and I shall make it my business to
give him my mind upon it very freely, the first time I meet him.
I'm under no promise, if my children are.”
“I cannot blame Parson Turner, Mrs. Glib, and I hope you
will not.”
The five, and even ten minutes rolled away, and, Mr. Thompson
not returning, Mrs. Glib moved off with her sons, looking very little
like their namesakes.
| CHAPTER II. Master William Mitten, or, A youth of brilliant talents, who was ruined by bad luck | |