CHAPTER XIX.BITTER FRUITS.
“Mother,I’ve got lots of news,” said Clinton, as he entered the house; “Mrs. Preston’s had a letter from Jerry, and I’ve got one from Uncle Clinton. Jerry’s gone to sea, and wrote home from Rio Janeiro. He came near being shipwrecked, and he says he’s got enough of going to sea. He’s got to go clear round Cape Horn, though, to Valparaiso, before he can come home.”
“And what does your Uncle Clinton write?”
“O, I haven’t read that yet, but I’m going to now,” said Clinton; and he sat down and opened his letter. “See what a long one it is,” he added, holding it open; “I wonder what it can all be about.” It was as follows:—
“Boston, May 12, 185-.“My Dear Nephew and Namesake,It’s a long while since you have had a letter fromme, and I suppose you will wonder what is going to happen when you see this; but don’t be frightened—there’s nothing alarming in the wind. We all felt very sorry, when your father wrote us that your anticipated visit to Boston this spring must be postponed. Willie, in particular, was sadly disappointed. He had set his heart on having a nice time with you—piloting you around the city, showing you the ‘elephants,’ and making himself generally useful and agreeable. And will you believe it, the silly fellow actually ‘boo-hooed right out’ when your father’s letter came, and put a wet blanket on his anticipations. Well, never mind, you’ll come this summer or fall, wont you? I’ve promised Willie you shall, and as I always keep my promises, you see there is no backing out of that. Tell your father that hemustlet you come, as soon as he can spare you; and if he doesn’t, I shall send a writ after you.“I have a case on the docket, as we lawyers say, that I guess will interest you a little. Willie insists upon my writing a history of it for your benefit; and as he is full four feet high, now, and keeps a terrible great dog, I suppose I must comply with his wishes. The parties in this case are, on the one side, our venerable and dignified Commonwealth, and on the other, that young harum-scarum crony of yours, (if you will own him as such), Oscar Preston. You knew, I suppose, that Oscar went to sea after he left Brookdale sosuddenly, last fall. He got back again in the winter, perfectly cured of his life-on-the-ocean-wave fever, and has done nothing but loaf about and cut up shines ever since. He wouldn’t go to school, and he wouldn’t go to work, and he wouldn’t do anything that his father wished him to do.“But his bad habits were not all negative ones, I can assure you; for a few weeks ago it happened to be discovered, some how or other, that he and two or three other boys had formed a band of thieves, and had stolen several articles from different persons and houses. The affair went before the Grand Jury, and one of the young scamps confessed the whole story. So an officer arrested Oscar, and carried him to jail; and his father, on learning the facts in the case, was so enraged that he would not bail him out. He came to me, however, to see what could be done for Oscar, and engaged me to act as his counsel. I inquired into all the facts, and when I found how conclusive the evidence was against him, I told his father the best thing Oscar could do would be to plead guilty, and trust to the mercy of the judge, who, I had little doubt, would take into consideration his youth, and sentence him to the Reform School. His father objected to this at first, but at last he was convinced that this would be the best course. So we both went over to the jail, in Cambridge Street, last week, to talk with Oscar about it.“We found him in a little cell, about twelve feet by eight, engaged in reading a newspaper, which some one had distributed among the prisoners. He did not appear very glad to see his father, and spoke in a surly manner to him. I really pitied the poor man, for he felt so badly that he could hardly keep from crying, when he saw the situation of his son. Oscar did not know me, I suppose. I believe I never saw him before, although I had often heard Willie speak of him. Mr. Preston told him that I was a lawyer whom he had engaged to manage his case, and he then proceeded to tell him the conclusion we had arrived at. ‘I shan’t do it,’ he instantly replied; ‘I aint guilty, and I wont say I am.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘this is very foolish in you, for here are the clearest proofs of your guilt, and you can’t rub them out.’ ‘I don’t care,’ he said, ‘I wont cave in now, any how. I mean to stick it out to the last.’ I then told him we were afraid he would be sentenced to the House of Correction, whereas, if he confessed his guilt, we could probably get the judge to send him to the Reform School. ‘I don’t want to go to the Reform School,’ he replied; ‘of the two, I’d rather go to the House of Correction. That would be all over with, in two or three months; but if I’m sent to the Reform School, I shall have to stay three or four years, and I wont do it—I’ll run away first.’ So he continued to talk, and we continued to reason with him, but all in vain; and finally we lefthim, in no pleasant mood. This forenoon, I called on him again, thinking he might have altered his mind, by this time; but he was as obstinate as ever, and so I must defend him to the best of my ability, when the trial comes on, next month. Poor boy! I’m afraid he will find the way of the transgressor is hard, before he is many months older. He appears to be pretty intelligent, and does not look like a bad boy, but he seems bent on his vicious courses. I tried to appeal to his feelings, to-day, but could not produce any effect upon him. I’ll try to let you know how his case turns out, when it comes to trial.“Your Aunt Lizzy sends her love to you and to your father, and mother, and dear little Annie. Willie says, ‘Tell Clinton I’m going down to see him this summer’—but as this is the firstIhave heard of it, I guess it will pass only for a rumor. Sissy sends ’a bushel of love,’ and Bouncer, Willie’s big bouncing dog that I mentioned before, sends a wag of his tail. Here it is:—Bouncer’s tailThere, now, I forgot to put in the wag—but no matter, you can imagine that. Well, I’ve got to theend of my sheet, and have only room to subscribe myself,Your affectionateUncle Clinton.”
“Boston, May 12, 185-.
“My Dear Nephew and Namesake,
It’s a long while since you have had a letter fromme, and I suppose you will wonder what is going to happen when you see this; but don’t be frightened—there’s nothing alarming in the wind. We all felt very sorry, when your father wrote us that your anticipated visit to Boston this spring must be postponed. Willie, in particular, was sadly disappointed. He had set his heart on having a nice time with you—piloting you around the city, showing you the ‘elephants,’ and making himself generally useful and agreeable. And will you believe it, the silly fellow actually ‘boo-hooed right out’ when your father’s letter came, and put a wet blanket on his anticipations. Well, never mind, you’ll come this summer or fall, wont you? I’ve promised Willie you shall, and as I always keep my promises, you see there is no backing out of that. Tell your father that hemustlet you come, as soon as he can spare you; and if he doesn’t, I shall send a writ after you.
“I have a case on the docket, as we lawyers say, that I guess will interest you a little. Willie insists upon my writing a history of it for your benefit; and as he is full four feet high, now, and keeps a terrible great dog, I suppose I must comply with his wishes. The parties in this case are, on the one side, our venerable and dignified Commonwealth, and on the other, that young harum-scarum crony of yours, (if you will own him as such), Oscar Preston. You knew, I suppose, that Oscar went to sea after he left Brookdale sosuddenly, last fall. He got back again in the winter, perfectly cured of his life-on-the-ocean-wave fever, and has done nothing but loaf about and cut up shines ever since. He wouldn’t go to school, and he wouldn’t go to work, and he wouldn’t do anything that his father wished him to do.
“But his bad habits were not all negative ones, I can assure you; for a few weeks ago it happened to be discovered, some how or other, that he and two or three other boys had formed a band of thieves, and had stolen several articles from different persons and houses. The affair went before the Grand Jury, and one of the young scamps confessed the whole story. So an officer arrested Oscar, and carried him to jail; and his father, on learning the facts in the case, was so enraged that he would not bail him out. He came to me, however, to see what could be done for Oscar, and engaged me to act as his counsel. I inquired into all the facts, and when I found how conclusive the evidence was against him, I told his father the best thing Oscar could do would be to plead guilty, and trust to the mercy of the judge, who, I had little doubt, would take into consideration his youth, and sentence him to the Reform School. His father objected to this at first, but at last he was convinced that this would be the best course. So we both went over to the jail, in Cambridge Street, last week, to talk with Oscar about it.
“We found him in a little cell, about twelve feet by eight, engaged in reading a newspaper, which some one had distributed among the prisoners. He did not appear very glad to see his father, and spoke in a surly manner to him. I really pitied the poor man, for he felt so badly that he could hardly keep from crying, when he saw the situation of his son. Oscar did not know me, I suppose. I believe I never saw him before, although I had often heard Willie speak of him. Mr. Preston told him that I was a lawyer whom he had engaged to manage his case, and he then proceeded to tell him the conclusion we had arrived at. ‘I shan’t do it,’ he instantly replied; ‘I aint guilty, and I wont say I am.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘this is very foolish in you, for here are the clearest proofs of your guilt, and you can’t rub them out.’ ‘I don’t care,’ he said, ‘I wont cave in now, any how. I mean to stick it out to the last.’ I then told him we were afraid he would be sentenced to the House of Correction, whereas, if he confessed his guilt, we could probably get the judge to send him to the Reform School. ‘I don’t want to go to the Reform School,’ he replied; ‘of the two, I’d rather go to the House of Correction. That would be all over with, in two or three months; but if I’m sent to the Reform School, I shall have to stay three or four years, and I wont do it—I’ll run away first.’ So he continued to talk, and we continued to reason with him, but all in vain; and finally we lefthim, in no pleasant mood. This forenoon, I called on him again, thinking he might have altered his mind, by this time; but he was as obstinate as ever, and so I must defend him to the best of my ability, when the trial comes on, next month. Poor boy! I’m afraid he will find the way of the transgressor is hard, before he is many months older. He appears to be pretty intelligent, and does not look like a bad boy, but he seems bent on his vicious courses. I tried to appeal to his feelings, to-day, but could not produce any effect upon him. I’ll try to let you know how his case turns out, when it comes to trial.
“Your Aunt Lizzy sends her love to you and to your father, and mother, and dear little Annie. Willie says, ‘Tell Clinton I’m going down to see him this summer’—but as this is the firstIhave heard of it, I guess it will pass only for a rumor. Sissy sends ’a bushel of love,’ and Bouncer, Willie’s big bouncing dog that I mentioned before, sends a wag of his tail. Here it is:—
Bouncer’s tail
There, now, I forgot to put in the wag—but no matter, you can imagine that. Well, I’ve got to theend of my sheet, and have only room to subscribe myself,
Your affectionate
Uncle Clinton.”
After running over the letter, Clinton read it aloud to his father and mother. The intelligence it gave concerning Oscar, did not much surprise any of them, though they felt sorry for him and his parents.
“I have seldom known a bad beginning to make a good ending,” remarked Mr. Davenport. “Oscar seems to have made a very poor start in life, and I’m afraid he will not turn out any too well. It’s too bad, for I always thought he was a bright, capable sort of a boy, if he would only keep out of mischief. But I suspect his parents never had much control over him, and if that’s the case, they are as much to be blamed as pitied.”
After conversing a while longer on Oscar’s case, Mr. Davenport told Clinton he had better not mention the subject out of the family, as it might reach the ears of Jerry’s mother, and make her feel unpleasantly. He also told Clinton he had concluded to let him go to Boston in October, and that he might write to eitherhis Uncle Clinton or to his Cousin Willie, and inform them of the fact. He also directed him to invite Willie to come and spend his summer vacation with him, and to extend the same invitation to the rest of the family. Clinton accordingly wrote, a few days after, directing the letter to his uncle, whose long epistle, he thought, was entitled to an answer.
Clinton continued his daily labors in the garden, which now began to give tokens of a fair harvest. He set apart a portion of each day to this business, and was always to be found engaged at his work, when the set hour arrived. While weeding the beds, and hoeing the corn and potatoes, and training the pea and bean vines, his thoughts often wandered far away,—sometimes to Jerry, now probably near the end of his voyage; and sometimes to the little stone cell in which Oscar was awaiting his trial.
June came, and as this was the month in which Oscar’s case was to be decided, Clinton began to look rather impatiently for a letter. He went to the post-office two or three times a week, but still no letter made its appearance. At length, however, his frequent visits were rewarded by the reception of anewspaper, directed to himself, in the well-known hand of his uncle. Tearing off the wrapper, and opening the paper,—for he could not wait till he got home,—a heavy black mark, drawn with a pen around a particular item, at once met his eye. The article was headed, “Municipal Court;” and after brief notices of several trials, sentences, etc., came the marked paragraph, which was as follows:—
“Oscar Preston, a minor, tried on two indictments for larceny. Verdict guilty, and sentenced to the State Reform School during his minority.”
This was all, and it told the whole story. Clinton was disappointed that the information was not conveyed by letter, which would have given him more particulars; but he concluded his uncle was too busy to write, and he felt glad he had not entirely forgotten him, in the hurry of business. He hastened home, and showed the short, sad record to his parents.
“Well,” said Mr. Davenport, on reading it, “that is the best place for him. They may make something of him yet.”
“What sort of a place is the Reform School?” inquiredClinton; “is it anything like a jail, or house of correction?”
“Not much, I suppose,” replied his father; “boys are sent there to be reformed and instructed, rather than punished. I have never visited an institution of this kind, myself, but I read quite a full description of the one in Massachusetts, not long ago, and perhaps I can find the paper that contained it. I will look over the files, some day when I have leisure.”
One rainy afternoon, not long after this, Mr. Davenport overhauled the papers referred to, and succeeded in finding the description of the Massachusetts Reform School. He gave it to Clinton, who was much interested in it. The following is the substance of the description:—
THE STATE REFORM SCHOOL, WESTBORO’.
This institution is located in Westboro’, thirty-two miles from Boston, and is designed to accommodate five or six hundred boys. Any boy under sixteen years of age, who has been convicted of an offence, punishable by imprisonment, can be sentenced to the Reform School instead of the prison, unless his crime is a very aggravated one, such as the laws require tobe punished by imprisonment for life. When a boy arrives at the School, he is first placed in the hands of the steward, who strips, washes, and dresses him in a suit of good clothes; he is then assigned to the field or workshop, and is not allowed to converse with his companions for two or three days, or until the superintendent understands his character and disposition. The boys are divided into four principal classes. The new comers enter the first class, and by dint of good conduct work their way up. Beyond the fourth is a still higher class, reached only by a few, and known as the class of “Truth and Honor.” To become a member of this class, a boy must pass a certain number of weeks without a demerit mark,—for a daily account of the merits and demerits of each boy is kept, and at the end of the week he is promoted or degraded, according to his deserts. It is so difficult to get into the class of “Truth and Honor,” that there are seldom more than eight or ten members. They enjoy extraordinary privileges,—are invited to the parlor of the superintendent,—have extra hours to play and read, and receive numerous special favors, greatly prized by them, and desired by others.
The daily order of business is as follows: The boys rise at five o’clock in summer, make their beds, march to the general wash-room, where they bathe their hands and face; attend prayers at a quarter before six; from six to seven for breakfast and play; work from seven to ten, A. M., and from three to six, P. M.; study from ten A. M., to three P. M., in two sessions of two hours each, with an hour for dinner and play, at noon; from six to seven, P. M., for supper and play; from seven to eight for the hearing and examination of all reports respecting the good or bad conduct of the boys, and the settlement of cases needing discipline which have occurred during the day. On Sunday they have a Sabbath-school, and religious worship in their chapel.
Many of the boys are employed in making shoes. They not only make and mend all their own shoes, but manufacture for dealers, who contract for their labor. About eighty boys are employed in the tailor’s shop, where all the clothing, bedding, etc., used in the institution, are made and repaired. In the shops, no noise or confusion is allowed during working hours. The boys are arranged in divisions, to each of which thereis a monitor, who has a slate on his bench, with the names of the boys, in his division, written upon it, and when one of them commits a fault, the disciplinarian gives notice of the fact to the monitor,—who makes a demerit mark opposite to the delinquent’s name.
A portion of the boys are employed upon the farm, which embraces nearly three hundred acres. Then, there is the laundry, in which some twenty boys do the washing and ironing, under the direction of a matron; and the kitchen, in which several boys do the cooking and baking, etc.
Boys, committed to the Reform School, are kept till they are reformed and discharged, or bound out as apprentices to mechanics and farmers, or sent to prison if they are found to be incorrigible. They cannot be committed to the institution for less than one year, or for a longer term than during their minority.
“Well,” said Mr. Davenport, after Clinton had finished reading the account, “now you can imagine in what sort of a place Oscar is living, and what he is about,—for I suppose he has been sent to the Reform School before this.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Clinton, “and I guess it willcome rather hard to him, at first, to go to work, don’t you?”
“No doubt it will,—but I suppose, if he can be made to form habits of industry and obedience, it will be comparatively easy to save him, even now.”
“I hope he will get into the class of ‘Truth and Honor,’” added Clinton.
“Ah,” said his father, “what a pity it is that boys ever getoutof that class! It is much easier to stay in it, than it is to get back again after a person has been once expelled from it. When you think of Oscar’s unhappy career, Clinton, I want you to remember what it was that led to it; and, beware, how you swerve a single hair from the line ofTRUTH AND HONOR.”
Perhaps Mr. Davenport was thinking of Clinton’s entanglement in Jerry’s artful snares, the previous winter, when he uttered this warning; but he never directly alluded to that affair, since his son had given such unequivocal evidence of sorrow for his offence. Clinton, indeed, had already more than made up, by his exemplary conduct, what he lost in the good opinion of his parents by his unhappy connection with Jerry. He had the wisdom to profit by his experience, andthe lesson which he learned from his temptation and fall, he will probably never forget. For the present, however, we must bid him good-by. Should the readers of this volume wish to know something further of his history, it is possible that I may be able to gratify their curiosity, some time or other.