Hurrah for the squash-peddler
We are reminded that many men of mark commenced their career by peddling. The great English merchant, Samuel Budgett, when he was about ten years old, went out into the streets to sell a bird, in order that he might get some funds to aid his poor mother. The first money that Dr. Kitto obtained was the proceeds of the sale oflabels, which he made and peddled from shop to shop. One of the wealthiest men we know, a Christian man distinguished for his large benevolence, commenced his mercantile career by peddling goods that he carried in a band-box from one milliner's shop to another. "You must creep before you can walk," is an old maxim, and the lives of all distinguished men verify the proverb. He who creeps well, will walk so much the better by and by; but he who is ashamed to creep, must never expect to walk. We know a successful merchant who commenced the work of an errand-boy in a large mercantile house, when he was about twelve years old. He was not mortified to be caught with a bundle in hand in the street, nor to be seen sweeping the store. Not feeling above his business, he discharged his duties as well as he could. When he swept he swept,—every nook and corner was thoroughly cleaned out.When he carried a bundle, he carried it,—nimbly, manfully, promptly, and politely he went and delivered it. He performed these little things so well that he was soon promoted to a more important post. Here, too, he was equally faithful and thorough, and his employers saw that he possessed just the qualities to insure success. They promoted him again; and before he was twenty years old he was the head clerk of the establishment. He was not much past his majority when he was admitted as a partner to the firm; and now he stands at the head of the well-known house, a man of affluence, intelligence, and distinction. Had he been ashamed to carry a bundle or sweep a store when he was a boy, by this time his friends would have had abundant reason to be ashamed of him.
This chapter of Nat's early experience in squash culture, was quite unimportant at the time. It is still only a memorial ofboyishdays; but it was a good beginning. It shows as clearly as the most distinguished service he afterwards rendered to his fellow men, that hopefulness, industry, perseverance, economy of time, self-reliance, and other valuable traits, were elements of his character.
It was winter,—about three months after the sale of the squashes. The district school was in progress, and a male teacher presided over it.
"Scholars," said the teacher one day, "it is both pleasant and profitable to have an occasional declamation and dialogue spoken in school. It will add interest, also, to our spelling-school exercises in the evening. Now who would like to participate in these exercises?"
Nat was on his feet in a moment; for he was always ready to declaim, or perform his part of a dialogue. The teacher smiled to see such a little fellow respond so readily, and he said to Nat,
"Did you ever speak a piece?"
"Yes, sir, a good many times."
"Do you like to declaim?"
"Yes, sir, and speak dialogues too."
"What piece did you ever speak?"
"'My voice is still for war,'" replied Nat.
"A great many boys have spoken that," added the teacher, amused at Nat's hearty approval of the plan.
"Will you select a piece to-night, and show it to me to-morrow morning?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; and learn it too," answered Nat.
Only four or five scholars responded to the teacher's proposition, and Frank Martin was one, Nat's "right hand man" in all studies and games. The teacher arranged with each one for a piece, and the school was dismissed. As soon as school was out.
"Frank," said Nat, "will you speak 'Alexander the Great and a Robber' with me?"
"Yes, if the teacher is willing. Which part will you take?"
"The 'robber,' if you are willing to be great Alexander."
Frank agreed to the proposition, and as the dialogue was in Pierpont's First Class Book, which was used in school, they turned to it, and showed it to the teacher before he left the school-house. It was arranged that they should speak it on the next day, provided they could commit it in so short a time.
"Going to speak a dialogue to-morrow," said Nat to his mother, as he went into the house.
"What are you going to speak?"
"Alexander the Great and a Robber," repliedNat. "And I shall be the robber, and Frank will be Alexander."
"Why do you choose to be the robber?" inquired his mother. "I hope you have no inclination that way."
"I like that part," replied Nat, "because the robber shows that the king is as much of a robber as himself. The king looks down upon him with scorn, and calls him a robber; and then the robber tells the king that he has made war upon people, and robbed them of their property, homes, and wives and children, so that he is a worse robber than himself. The king hardly knows what to say, and the last thing the robber says to him is, 'I believe neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world for half the mischief we have done it.' Then the king orders his chains to be taken off, and says, 'Are we then so much alike? Alexander like a robber?'"
"That is a very good reason, I think, for liking that part," said his mother. "Many people do not stop to think that the great can be guilty of crimes. They honor a king or president whether he has any principle or not."
"That is what I like to see exposed in the dialogue," said Nat. "It is just as bad for a king to rob a person of all he has, in war, as it is for a robber to do it at midnight."
Nat always felt strongly upon this point. Hevery early learned that rich men, and those occupying posts of honor, were thought more of by many people, whether they were deserving or not, and it seemed to him wrong. He thought that one good boy ought to stand just as high as another, though his parents were poor and humble, and that every man should bear the guilt of his own deeds whether he be king or servant. Out of this feeling grew his interest in the aforesaid dialogue, and he was willing to take the place of the robber for the sake of the pleasure of "showing up" the king. It was this kind of feeling that caused him to sympathize, even when a boy, with objects of distress and suffering,—to look with pity upon those who experienced misfortune, or suffered reproach unjustly. It was not strange that he became a professed Democrat in his youth, as we shall see; for how could such a democratic little fellow be other than a true Jeffersonian Democrat?
Nat's part of the dialogue was committed on that evening before eight o'clock. He could commit a piece very quick, for he learned any thing easily. He could repeat many of the lessons of his reading book, word for word. His class had read them over a number of times, so that he could repeat them readily. At the appointed time, on the next afternoon, both Nat and Frank were ready to perform.
"I have the pleasure this afternoon," said theteacher, "to announce a dialogue by two of the boys who volunteered yesterday. Now if they shall say it without being prompted, you will all concede that they have done nobly to commit it so quickly Let us have it perfectly still. The title of the dialogue is 'Alexander the Great and a Robber.' Now boys, we are ready."
Frank commenced in a loud, pompous, defiant tone, that was really Alexander-like. It was evident from the time he uttered the first sentence that, if he could not be "Alexander the Great," he could be Alexander the Little.
Nat responded, and performed his part with an earnestness of soul, a power of imitation, and a degree of eloquence that surprised the teacher. The scholars were not so much surprised because they had heard him before, but it was the first time the teacher had seen him perform.
"Very well done," said the teacher, as they took their seats. "There could not be much improvement upon that. You may repeat the dialogue at the spelling-school on Friday evening; and I hope both of you will have declamations next week."
"Iwill, sir," said Nat.
The teacher found a reluctance among the boys to speak, and one of them said to him,
"If I could speak as well as Nat, I would do it."
This remark caused him to think that Nat's superiority in these rhetorical exercises might dishearten some of his pupils; and the next time he introduced the subject to the school, he took occasion to remark,
"Some of our best orators were very poor speakers when they began to declaim in boyhood. It is not certain that a lad who does not acquit himself very well in this exercise at first, will not make a good orator at last. Demosthenes, who was the most gifted orator of antiquity, had an impediment in his speech in early life. But he determined to overcome it, and be an orator in spite of it. He tried various expedients, and finally went to a cave daily, on the sea-shore, where, with pebble-stones in his mouth, he declaimed, until the impediment was removed. By patience and perseverance he became a renowned orator. It was somewhat so, too, with Daniel Webster, whom you all know as the greatest orator of our land and times. The first time he went upon the stage to speak, he was so frightened that he could not recall the first line of his piece. The second time he did not do much better; and it was not until he had made several attempts, that he was able to get through a piece tolerably well. But a strong determination and persevering endeavors, finally gave him success."
In the course of the winter Nat spoke a number of pieces, among which were "Marco Bozzaris," "Speech of Catiline before the Roman Senate onHearing his Sentence of Banishment," and "Dialogue from Macbeth," in all of which he gained himself honor. His taste seemed to prefer those pieces in which strength and power unite. At ten and twelve years of age, he selected such declamations and dialogues as boys generally do at the age of sixteen or eighteen years. It was not unusual for the teacher to say, when visitors were in school,
"Come, Master —— [Nat], can you give us a declamation?" and Nat was never known to refuse. He always had one at his tongue's end, which would roll off, at his bidding, as easily as thread unwinds from a spool.
About this time there was some complaint among the scholars in Nat's arithmetic class, and Samuel Drake persuaded one of the older boys to write a petition to the teacher for shorter lessons. This Samuel Drake was a brother of Ben, a bad boy, as we shall see hereafter, known in the community as Sam. When the petition was written, Sam signed it, and one or two other boys did the same; but when he presented it to Nat, the latter said,
"What should I sign that for? The lessons are not so long as I should like to have them. Do you study them any in the evening?"
"Study in the evening!" exclaimed Sam. "I am not so big a fool as that. It is bad enough to study in school."
"I study evenings," added Nat, "and you are asable to study as I am. The lessons would be too long for me if I didn't study any."
"And so you don't mean to sign this petition?" inquired Sam.
"Of course I don't," replied Nat. "If the lessons are not too long, there is no reason why I should petition to have them shorter."
"You can sign it for our sakes," pleaded Sam.
"Not if I think you had better study them as they are."
"Go to grass then," said Sam, becoming angry, "we can get along without a squash peddler, I'd have you know. You think you are of mighty consequence, and after you have killed a few more bugs perhaps you will be."
"I won't sign your petition," said Frank, touched to the quick by this abuse of Nat.
"Nor I," exclaimed Charlie Stone, another intimate associate of Nat's, and a good scholar too.
Nat was sensitive to ridicule when it proceeded from certain persons, but he did not care much for it when its author was Sam Drake, a boy whom every teacher found dull and troublesome. He replied, however, in a pleasant though sarcastic manner, addressing his remark to Frank and Charlie,
"Sam is so brilliant that he expects to get along without study. He will be governor yet."
Sam did not relish this thrust very much, but before he had a chance to reply, Frank added,"I suppose you will make a speech, Sam, when you present your petition." All laughed heartily at this point, and turned away, leaving Sam to bite his lips and cogitate.
Sam was certainly in a predicament. He had several signers to his petition, but they were all the lazy, backward scholars, and he knew it. To send a petition to the teacher with these signatures alone, he knew would be little less than an insult. If Nat, Frank, and Charlie, would have signed it, he would not have hesitated. As it was, he did not dare to present it, so the petition movement died because it couldn't live.
The teacher, however, heard of the movement, and some days thereafter, thinking that his dull scholars might need a word of encouragement, he embraced a favorable opportunity to make the following remarks:—
"It is not always the case that the brightest scholars in boyhood make the most useful or learned men. There are many examples of distinguished men, who were very backward scholars in youth. The great philosopher Newton was one of the dullest scholars in school when he was twelve years old. Doctor Isaac Barrow was such a dull, pugnacious, stupid fellow, that his father was heard to say, if it pleased God to remove any one of his children by death, he hoped it would be Isaac. The father of Doctor Adam Clarke, the commentator,called his boy 'a grievous dunce.' Cortina, a renowned painter, was nicknamed, by his associates, 'Ass' Head,' on account of his stupidity, when a boy. When the mother of Sheridan once went with him to the school-room, she told the teacher that he was 'an incorrigible dunce,' and the latter was soon compelled to believe her. One teacher sent Chatterton home to his mother as 'a fool of whom nothing could be made.' Napoleon and Wellington were both backward scholars. And Sir Walter Scott was named the 'The Great Blockhead' at school. But some of these men, at a certain period of youth, changed their course of living, and began to apply themselves with great earnestness and assiduity to the acquisition of knowledge, while others, though naturally dull, improved their opportunities from the beginning, and all became renowned. No one of them advanced without close application. It was by their own persevering efforts that they finally triumphed over all difficulties. So it must be with yourselves. The dullest scholar in this room may distinguish himself by application and dint of perseverance, while the brightest may fail of success, by wasting his time and trusting to his genius. The motto of every youth should be 'UPWARD AND ONWARD.'"
The bright summer-time had come again, when the sweet-scented blossoms beautified the gardens, and the forming fruits gave promise of a rich golden harvest. The school-bell sent out its merry call to the laughing children, and scores of them daily went up to the temple of knowledge for improvement. Saturday afternoon was a season of recreation, when the pupils, released from school, engaged in various sports, or performed some light labor for their parents.
On a certain Saturday afternoon, Nat, Charlie, Frank, and one or two other boys, arranged for a "good time" at the house of one of the number. They were all there promptly at the appointed time, together with Frank's little dog Trip—a genuine favorite with all the boys who had any regard for dog-brightness and amiability.
"Look here, Frank, has Trip forgot how to play hy-spy?" asked Charlie.
"No; he will play it about as well asyoucan. Let us try it."
"You can't learn him to touch the goal, can you?" inquired another boy.
"No," replied Frank; "but I expect he will before he takes his degree. He is nothing but a Freshman now."
"Did he ever petition you for shorter lessons?" asked Nat.
Charlie and Frank laughed; for they thought of Sam Drake's petition at the winter school.
"Never," answered Frank; "but he has asked me for longer ones a great many times. He never gets enough at any sport. He will play 'hide and seek' or 'ball' as long as you will want to have him, and then wag his tail for more."
Trip sat by looking wistfully up into his little master's face as if he perfectly understood the praise that was lavished upon him, and was patiently waiting to give an exhibition of his skill in athletic games.
"Let us try his skill," said Charlie. "Come, Frank, give him his post."
"Here, Trip," said Frank, "come here; nice fellow,—does want to play 'hide and seek;' so he shall;" and he patted him on his head, for which kindness Trip voted him thanks as well as he could.
"Now, boys, we'll all run and hide, and Trip will find us in short metre."
Off they started, some round the barn and house, and some over the wall, while Trip stood wagging his tail, in the spot assigned him. At length a loud shrill "whoop," "whoop," "whoop," one after another, saluted Trip's ears, and off he ran to find them. Bounding over the wall, he came right upon Charlie, who laughed heartily at the result, while Trip extended his researches round the barn, where he discovered Nat under a pile of boards, and one or two of the other boys. When they all returned to the goal, Trip perceived that his master was not found, and off he bounded a second time.
"Sure enough," exclaimed Charlie, "he knows that Frank is not here, and he has gone to find him. Isn't he a knowing dog?"
"I don't believe he will find him," said Nat, "for he is up on a beam in the shed."
Nat had scarcely uttered these words, before a shout from Frank and a bark from Trip announced that the former was discovered.
"There," said Frank, as he came up to the goal with Trip skipping and jumping at his side, "wasn't that well done? I told you he would find you, and none of us could do it quicker."
"Let us try it again," said one of the boys, "I guess I'll puzzle him this time."
Again they all sought hiding-places, while Trip waited at the goal for the well-known signal—"whoop;" "whoop;" "whoop." None of the boys knew the meaning of this better than he, although he was only a dog.
Soon the signal was given, and away went Trip in high glee. Over the wall—around the barn—into the shed—back of the house—behind the woodpile—under the boards—here and there—he ran until every boy was found. Again and again the experiment was tried, and Trip won fresh laurels every time.
"You've torn your pants, Nat," said Frank.
"I know it. I did it getting over the fence. I haven't done such a thing before, I don't know when."
While exhausting "hy-spy" of its fun, Sylvester Jones came along with a bit of news.
"Going to court, Nat?" he inquired.
"Going where?" replied Nat, not understanding him.
"To court! They have taken up Harry Gould and Tom Ryder, and the court is coming off at the hall."
"What have they taken Harry and Tom for?" asked Nat, becoming deeply interested in the event.
"I don't know exactly; but it is something about disturbing the exhibition."
The facts in the case were these. There was anexhibition in the hall owned by the manufacturing company, and these two boys climbed up on the piazza and looked into the window, thereby disturbing the exercises. An action was brought against them, and they were to be tried before a justice of the town.
"It is too bad," replied Nat, "to take up such little boys forthat—they didn't know any better. What will be done with them, do you expect?"
"Perhaps they will send them to jail. Father says it is a serious matter to disturb a meeting of any kind."
"Yes," replied Nat, "it is a mean act in anybody, but I don't believe that Harry and Tom understood it. It will be too bad to send them to prison for that. Perhaps they would never do such a thing again."
"Come," added Sylvester, "let us go to the trial and see. They have begun before this time."
Nat's sympathies were intensely wrought upon by these tidings; for Harry and Tom were among his school-fellows. The idea of trying such little boys in a court of justice excited him very much. He forgot all about the games projected and the rent in his pantaloons, and seizing his cap, he said to Frank,
"Willyougo?"
"Yes, I've played about enough," answered Frank. "I would like to go to a court."
The boys hurried away to the hall; and they found that the court had opened, and that the room was well filled with people. Nat edged his way along through the crowd until he found himself directly in front of the table where the justice sat. Sure enough, there the two young prisoners were, Harry and Tom, looking as if they were half frightened out of their wits. How Nat pitied them! It seemed strange to him that men could deal thus with boys so small. He listened to the examination, of witnesses with great emotion, and watched Harry and Tom so closely that he could read their very thoughts. He knew just how badly they felt, and that if they could get clear this time, they never would be caught in such wrong-doing again.
"Were you present at the exhibition?" inquired the justice of one of the witnesses.
"I was," he answered.
"Did the prisoners disturb the exercise?"
"They did."
"How do you know that Harry and Tom were the boys?"
"Because I went out to send them away, and found them on the piazza."
"Did you speak to them, and call them by name, so that you could not be mistaken?"
"I did, and they responded to their names."
"Then you can swear that these two boys, the prisoners, disturbed the meeting?"
"Yes, I am positive of it."
Two or three other witnesses were examined, when the justice said,
"It appears to be a clear case, boys, that you are guilty of the charges alleged against you. You are very young to begin to disturb the public peace. Even if it was nothing but thoughtlessness, boys are getting to be so rude, that it is high time some check was put upon their mischief. Now, boys, have you any thing to say for yourselves?"
Harry and Tom were more frightened than ever, and Nat could see them struggle to keep from crying outright.
"Have you any one to speak for you?" asked the justice.
Nat could withstand it no longer, and he stepped forward, with his cap in his hand, his bright eyes beaming with sympathy for the prisoners, and said,
"Please, sir, I will speak for them, if you are willing," and without waiting for the justice to reply, he proceeded:
"Harry and Tom would never do the like again. They knew it was wrong for them to disturb the exhibition, but they didn't think. Theywillthink next time. I know they feel sorry now for what they have done, and will try to be good boys hereafter. Can you not try them, if they will promise? This is the first time they have done so, and theywill promise, I know they will (turning to the boys), won't you, Tom?"
The boys both nodded assent
The boys both nodded assent, and the justice looked pleased, astonished, and not a little puzzled. It was really a scene for the artist, Nat standing before the court with cap in hand, and his pantaloons torn in the play of the afternoon, his heart so moved with pity for the juvenile offenders that he almost forgot where he was, making a touching plea for the boys, as if their destiny depended upon his own exertions. The hall was so still that the fall of a pin might be heard while Nat was pleading the case. Everybody was taken by surprise. They could hardly believe their senses.
"Their brother," answered one man, in reply to the inquiry, "Who is that lad?" He did not know himself, but he thought that possibly a brother might plead thus for them.
The justice was not long in deciding the case, after such a plea. He simply reprimanded the two boys, gave them some wholesome counsel, and discharged them, much to the gratification of Nat, and many others.
"That was the youngest lawyer I ever heard plead a case," said Mr. Payson, after the court adjourned.
"The most impudent one,Ithink," replied Mr. Sayles, to whom the remark was addressed. "If Ihad been in the place of the justice, I would have kicked him out of the hall. Little upstart! to come in there, and presume to speak in behalf of two reckless boys!"
"You misjudge the boy entirely, Mr. Sayles. There is nothing of the 'upstart' about Nat. He is a good boy, a good scholar, and very amiable indeed. The neighbors will all tell you so. It was his sincere pity for the boys that led him to plead for them. He did not mean to conceal their guilt, but he thought, asIdo, that such small boys better be reproved and tried again, before they suffer the penalty of the law."
"I hope it is so," replied Mr. S.
"Iknowit is so," continued Mr. P. "Nat is very kind and sympathizing, and he cannot endure to see a dog abused. It might seem bold and unmannerly for him to address the court as he did, but Nat is not such a boy. He is very mannerly for one of his age, and nothing but his deep pity for Harry and Tom induced him to speak. The act has elevated him considerably in my estimation, though I thought well of him before."
Mr. Payson took the right view of the matter. In addition to his sympathy for his school-fellows, Nat felt that it was hardly right to take those little boys before a court for the offence charged, since they were not vagrants, and were not known as bad boys. If Ben and Sam Drake had been there instead of Harry and Tom, he would not have volunteered a plea to save them from the clutches of the law. But he felt that it was dealing too severely with them, and this emboldened him, so that when he witnessed the distress of the boys, and saw them try to conceal their emotions, his heart overflowed with pity for them, and forced him to speak.
If we knew nothing more of Nat, this single act would lead us to anticipate that, in later life, he would espouse the cause of the oppressed in every land, and lift his voice and use his pen in defence of human rights. At the age of ten or twelve years, John Howard, the philanthropist, was not distinguished above the mass of boys around him, except for the kindness of his heart, and boyish deeds of benevolence. It was so with Wilberforce, whose efforts in the cause of British emancipation gave him a world-wide fame. Every form of suffering, misfortune, or injustice, touched his young heart, and called forth some expression of tender interest. Carefully he would lay off his shoes at the door of a sick chamber, and often divide a small coin, received as a present, between his own wants and some poor child or man he chanced to meet. And Buxton, whose self-sacrificing spirit in behalf of suffering humanity is everywhere known, was early observed by his mother to sympathize with the down-trodden and unfortunate, and she sought to nurture and develop this feeling as ahopeful element of character. When his fame was at its zenith, he wrote to his mother, "I constantly feel, especially in action and exertion for others, the effects of principles early implanted by you in my mind."
Nat, Charlie, and Frank planned a pleasure excursion one Saturday afternoon, when cherries were in their prime. They did not even think of the cherries, however, when they planned the trip. They thought more of the fields and forests through which they proposed to go. But just at this point one of their associates came up, and said,
"Let us go over beyond Capt. Pratt's and get some cherries. There is a large tree there, and it hangs full."
"Yes; and have the owner in your hair," answered Charlie.
"No, no," replied John, the name of the boy who made the proposition. "They arewildcherries, a half a mile from any house, and of course the owner considers them common property. I have got cherries there a number of times."
"That is no evidence you didn't steal them," said Nat, half laughing.
"If you do no worse stealing than that," answered John, "you will not be sent to jail this week."
It was therefore agreed, that the cherry-tree should be visited, even if they allowed the cherries to remain unmolested. Without further discussion they proceeded to execute their purpose, and lost no time in finding the famous tree. John's glowing description of the crop had caused their mouths to water long before they came in sight of them.
"John is hoaxing us," said Nat, smiling, before they were half way there. "I don't believe as good cherries as he tells about ever grow wild."
"Wait and see," responded John. "If you won't believeme, I guess you will your eyes. Wild or not wild, I hardly think you will keep your hands off, when you have a peak at them."
"I tell you what it is, Nat," said Frank, "if it should turn out that the cherries are tame, you might not get off so easy as Harry and Tom did for disturbing the exhibition."
"I shouldn't deserve to," answered Nat.
The conversation kept up briskly as the boys crossed the fields and scaled the walls and fences. At length they came in sight of the tree, standing apart from any garden, nursery, or orchard, a full half mile from the nearest house.
"There it is," said John, pointing to it. "If that is not a wild cherry-tree, thennotree is wild."
"I should think it would be as wild as the beasts, so far from any house," added Frank.
They were surprised, on approaching the tree, to find it loaded with cherries of so nice a quality. They were much larger than the common wild cherries, a sort of "mazards," similar to the kind that is cultivated in gardens.
"That is not a wild-cherry tree, I know," said Charlie. "It may have come up here, but the owner of this land would never fail to gather such cherries as these. They would sell for ninepence a quart in the village as quick as any cherries."
"I think so too," said Nat; "and if we strip the tree, the first thing we shall know, the constable will have us up for stealing."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed John. "You are more scared than hurt. I don't mean that these cherries are not like some that grow in gardens; but the tree came up here of itself—nobody ever set it out—and so it is wild; and why are not the cherries common property as much as that smaller kind which people get over there by the river?"
This last argument of John was more convincing. All the boys knew that anybody gathered the common wild cherries from trees that grew much nearer dwelling-houses than this, so that there was some force in John's last suggestion.
"If Johnisright," added Nat, "it is best to be on the safe side, and ask leave of the owner. If he does not mean to pick the cherries, he will be willing that we should have them; and if he does want them, he will put us into the lock-up for stealing them."
"Who is going half a mile to find the owner?" said John, "and then perhaps he will be away from home. I shall not run my legs off upon any such Tom Fool's errand. If you are a mind to do it, I have no objections, and I will pick the cherries while you are gone."
The matter was discussed a little longer, and finally all concluded to try the cherries. It required a pretty forcible argument to stand against the appeal of the luscious fruit to their eyes. Into the tree they went, and, in due time filled their caps with the tempting fruit. Having loaded their caps, they descended and set them on the ground under the tree, and then returned to fill their stomachs.
"Hark!" said Frank hurriedly, "do I not hear some one calling?"
"Yes," answered John, from the top of the tree, where he was regaling himself with the dessert, "true as I am alive, there is the owner coming full speed, and yelling like a good one. Let us clear."
They all dropped upon the ground instantly, and bounded over the nearest wall like frightenedsheep, and soon were seen scampering a hundred rods off.
"There, now, if that isn't smart," exclaimed Nat; "we've left our caps under the tree, Frank."
John set to laughing to see the two capless boys; and he was more inclined to laugh because Charlie and himself had presence of mind enough to take theirs.
"If it was you, John, I shouldn't care a snap," said Frank. "You led the way, and made us believe that they were wild cherries, and I wish your cap was there."
John could only laugh, in reply, at his bareheaded companions.
"I don't see why we should run at all," said Nat, just apprehending the folly of their course. "We are not thieves,—we didn't mean to steal. We shouldn't have taken the cherries if we had known, the owner wanted them."
"What can we do without our hats?" asked Frank.
"I shall go and get mine," answered Nat, "and tell the man just as it was, and, if he is reasonable he will overlook it."
"I am beat now," exclaimed John; "the old fellow is certainly carrying off your caps."
The boys looked, and to their amazement, the man was returning to his house with the caps. Nat and Frank were more perplexed than ever.
"Never mind," said John; "you are both big enough to go bareheaded. What will you take for your caps?" and again he laughed at their predicament.
"What shall we do?" inquired Frank.
"Go to his house and get the caps, of course," said Nat. "The caps won't come to us that is certain."
"What will you tell the man?"
"Tell him the truth," replied Nat, "and it ought to get our caps, and shield us from punishment."
"Perhaps he is a crabbed fellow who will show us no favors; and he will say that our running away is evidence of our guilt."
"We were fools to run," said Nat; "and if I had stopped to think one moment I should have stayed there, and explained it to him."
Finally, it was decided that Nat and Frank should go after their caps, on which errand they started at once, while John and Charlie proceeded homeward. In the mean time the owner of the tree had reached his house very much amused at the flight of the capless boys. He was somewhat angry when he first saw the boys in his tree, but the possession of the two caps well filled with cherries modified his wrath considerably. It would take him two hours to pick that quantity of fruit. "Surely," he thought, "the boys have beaten the bush and I have caught the birds."
"You must go to the door and explain it," said Frank to Nat.
"I am going to, and convince him that we did did not mean to steal."
Nat gave a gentle rap at the door, to which a lady at once responded.
"Can we see the man who has our caps?" inquired Nat.
"I will see," she replied very kindly, and stepped back into the house to call her husband. He made his appearance promptly; and looked so much more pleasant than Nat expected, that he was very much emboldened.
"What is wanted, boys?" he asked.
"We have come," replied Nat, "to tell how it happened that we got your cherries, and to get our caps."
"I suppose it happened very much as it does every year with those cherries," said the man,—"the boys steal them."
"No, sir; I think I can convince you that we did not mean to steal. We thought they were wild cherries. John came along and told us about them, and we did not believe they were wild. Finally we consented to go and see, and when we got to the tree, we told him that the owner of such nice cherries would want them, and I told him that the best way would be to come and ask you, for if you did not want them, you would certainly give us permissionto pick them. But he laughed at us, and said the tree was much further from any house than the wild cherries that any person gets down by the river, and therefore the cherries must be common property. We thought he was right, when he told us this, and so we went up into the tree."
"But why did you run when you saw me coming, if you did not mean to steal them?" he asked.
"I run, sir, because I did not stop to think. I told Frank, as soon as we stopped running, that we were very foolish, because we did not mean to steal, and I was sorry that we did run. But we were so surprised when we saw you coming that we ran before we thought. I don't think we did right, sir, though we did not mean to steal. It would have been better for us to have come and asked you for the cherries as I told John. Now we would like our caps, but we want you to be convinced first that we are not thieves."
"Iamconvinced," replied the man. "I guess you mean to be honest boys, and you shall have your caps."
The fact was, the man was much impressed with the sincerity and honesty of Nat before he got half through his explanation. He admired his frankness, and his manly, straight-forward way of telling his story. He went into the house and brought out the caps, just as he took them from the ground, full of cherries, and gave them caps, cherries, and all.
"You don't mean we shall have the cherries, do you?" inquired Nat.
"Certainly, you have worked hard enough for them," he replied. "And I like to see boys willing to own up when they do wrong. I don't thinkyoumeant to do wrong; but I am glad to see you make a clean breast of it, and not be so mean as to equivocate, and lie, to get out of a scrape. Boys always fare the best when they are truthful, and try to do right."
"We are much obliged to you," said Nat. "You will never catch us on your cherry-tree again without permission."
Having pocketed the cherries, they put on their caps, and hastened home, quite thoroughly convinced that all cherries which grow a half mile from any house are not wild.
"A swim to-night," shouted John to Frank, on his way home from school. "All hands be there."
"Will you come, Nat?" inquired Frank.
"Yes; and swim three rods under water," was Nat's reply.
At this period of Nat's boyhood, there was almost a passion among the boys for athletic sports, such as swimming, jumping, running, ball-playing, and kindred amusements. For some time they had received special attention, and no one of the boys enjoyed them more than Nat. It was one of the principles on which he lived, to do with all his heart whatever he undertook. In the school-room, he studied with a keen relish for knowledge, and on the play-ground he played with equal gusto. If he had work to do it was attended to at once, and thoroughly finished in the shortest possible time. In this way he engaged in athletic sports.
An hour before sunset, a dozen or more boys were at "the bathing place."
"Now, Nat, for your three rods under water," said Frank. "If I was half as long-winded as you are, I should keep company with the fishes pretty often."
"He swam more than three rods under water the other day," said Charlie. "I shouldn't want to risk myself so long out of sight. Suppose the cramp should seize you, Nat, I guess you'd like to see the dry land."
"You must remember," suggested John, who was usually ready to turn things over, and look at the funny side, "that doctors won't wade into the water after their patients."
One after another the boys plunged into the water, as if it were their native element. Most of them had practised swimming, diving, and other feats, until they were adepts in these water-arts. Some of them could swim a surprising distance, and feared not to venture a long way from the shore. Frank was very skilful in performing these water feats, but even he could not equal Nat.
"Now for a swim under water," exclaimed Nat, as he disappeared from the view of his companions. All stopped their sports to watch Nat, and see where he would make his appearance. Not a word was spoken as they gazed with breathless interest, and waited to see him rise.
"He's drowned," cried one of the boys.
"No, no," responded Frank. "We shall see him in a moment," and yet Frank began to fear.
"I tell you heisdrowned," shouted John, much excited. By this time there was a good deal of consternation among the boys, and some of them were running out of the water. A man who was watching on the shore, was actually stripping his coat off to make a plunge for Nat, when up he came.
"He is safe," shouted half a dozen voices, and the welkin rang with cheer after cheer.
"There, young man, better not try that again," said the gentleman on the shore, as Nat swum around in that direction.
"That was more than three rods," said Frank.
"And more than four," added Charlie. "You beat yourself this time, Nat. You never swam so far under water before. We thought you were drowned."
"There is no use in trying to beatyou," continued Frank. "If you had gills you would be a regular fish."
Everybody in the village heard of Nat's swimming feats under water, as well as on the water, and it was not unusual for spectators to assemble on the shore, when they knew that he was going to bathe.
Not far from this time, a little later in the year perhaps, there was to be a special game of ball onSaturday afternoon. Ball-playing was one of the favorite games with the boys, and some of them were remarkable players. When the time arrived it was decided that John and Charlie should choose sides, and it fell to the latter to make the first choice.
"I choose Nat," said he.
"I'll take Frank," said John.
It was usually the case that Nat and Frank were pitted against each other in this amusement. Nat was considered the best player, so that he was usually the first choice. Frank stood next, so that he was the second choice. In this way they generally found themselves playing against each other. It was so on this occasion.
The game commenced, and John's side had the "ins."
"You must catch," said Charlie to Nat. It was usually Nat's part to catch.
"And you must throw," responded Nat. "I can catch your balls best."
The very first ball that was thrown, John missed, though he struck with a well-aimed blow, as he thought, and Nat caught it.
"That is too bad," was the exclamation heard on one side, and "good," "capital," on the other.
Charlie took the bat, and was fortunate in hitting the ball the first time he struck. Now it was Nat's turn, and, with bat in hand, he took his place.
"Be sure and hit," said Charlie.
"I should like to see a ball go byhimwithout getting a rap," answered Frank, who was now the catcher. "The ball always seems to think it is no use to try to pass him."
"There, take that," said Nat, as he sent the ball, at his first bat, over the heads of all, so far that he had time to run round the whole circle of goals, turning a somerset as he came in.
"A good beginning, Nat; let us see you do that again," said Frank.
"When the time comes I'll give you a chance," replied Nat.
We will not follow the game further, but simply say that, before it was half through, quite a number of men, old and young, were attracted to the place by the sport.
"What a fine player for so young a boy," said one bystander to another, as Nat added one after another to the tallies.
"Yes; no one can excel him; he never plays second fiddle to anybody. He will run faster, catch better, and hit the ball more times in ten, than any other boy. I saw him jump the other day, and he surpassed any thing I have seen of his age."
"If that is not all he is good for, it is well enough," replied the other.
"He is just as good at studying or working, as heis at playing ball; it seems to be a principle with himto be the bestin whatever he undertakes. I was amused at his reply to one of the neighbors, who asked him how he managed to swim better than any one else. 'It is just as easy to swim well as poorly,' said he, and there is a good deal of truth in the remark. At another time he said, 'one might as well run fast as slow.'"
"Does he appear to glory in his feats?"
"Not at all. He does not seem to think there is much credit in being the best at these games. One of the boys said to him one day, 'Nat, you always get all the glory in our games.' He replied, 'I don't think there is much glory in playing ball well. If that is all a person is good for, he is not good for much.' He has very good ideas about such things."
This was really a correct view of Nat's case. He enjoyed athletic sports as much as any of the boys, and yet he actually felt that it was no particular credit to him to be a good swimmer, jumper, runner, or ball-player. He did not study to excel therein because he thought it was honorable to beat every other boy in these things. But what he did, he did with all his soul, and this is necessary to success. He had confidence in his ability to succeed in what he undertook. When he first went into the water, he knew he could learn to swim. When he took his stand to catch the ball,he knew he could catch it. Others did these things, and he could see no reason why he could not. He seemed to feel as one of the Rothschilds did, who said, "I can do what another man can." The same elements of character caused him to excel on the play-ground, that enabled him to bear off the palm in the school-room.
It is generally the case that a boy who does one thing well will do another well also. Employers understand this, and choose those lads who exhibit a disposition to be thorough. Said Samuel Budgett, "In whatever calling a man is found, he ought to be the best in his calling; if only a shoe-black, he ought to be the best shoe-black in the neighborhood." He acted upon this principle himself from his boyhood; and so did Nat, whether he was fully conscious of it or not. Sir Joshua Reynolds, the great painter, said that his success resulted mainly from one principle upon which he had acted, namely, "to make every picture the best."
Buxton, of whom we have spoken already, had as much force of character in his youth as almost any boy who ever lived. His determination was invincible, and his energy and perseverance were equal to his resolution. The consequence was that he became famous for boating, shooting, riding, and all sorts of fieldsports, though he cared little for any thing else. But when, at last, his attention was turned to self-improvement and philanthropy,by the influence of the Gurney family, he carried the same qualities with him there, and through them won a world-wide fame. It was thus with Sir Walter Scott, who was second to no one in his youth for his dexterity and proficiency in athletic, games, and the various forms of recreation. He could "spear a salmon with the best fisher on the Tweed, and ride a wild horse with any hunter in Yarrow." The same energy and unconquerable will helped him achieve that herculean labor afterwards, of paying off a debt of six hundred thousand dollars, with his pen. The Duke of Wellington acknowledged the same principle, when he said, as he stood watching the sports of boys on the play-ground of Eton, where he spent his juvenile years, "It was there that the battle of Waterloo was won."
Twenty-five years after Nat bore off the palm in athletic games, an early associate asked him to what he owed his success, and he answered, in a vein of pleasantry, "To swimming under water." Whatever may have been his meaning, it is not at all difficult to discover the same elements of character in squash-raising, declamation, and arithmetic, that appear in the games he played.
His skill in the water served him a good purpose one day, or rather, it served another boy well. Nat and two or three of his companions were at play near the factory, when some one cried out, "A boy in the water!"
In an instant Nat sprung, followed by his companions, and made for the water, when lo! a little boy was seen struggling to keep from sinking. He had carelessly ventured too near and fallen in, and must have perished but for the timely aid thus rendered him. Nat plunged in after him, and his play-fellows did the same, or brought rails, by which he was saved. He proved to be Charlie's younger brother.
This event made a deep impression upon Nat's mind, and he reflected upon his act with far more satisfaction than he did upon his superiority in swimming or playing ball. He had saved, or helped save, a lad from a watery grave, and that was an act worth performing. He went home, and after relating the incident with the greatest enthusiasm, he sat down and drew a picture representing the scene. There was the water and buildings near, a little boy struggling for life, and Nat and associates plunging in after him. It was really a good representation of the terrific scene; and Nat considered it quite an accession to his collection of drawings. Thus he used this bit of experience to advance himself in one branch of education. With his traits of character, he could not excel in innocent games, without receiving an impulse therefrom to excel in more important acquisitions.
Stern Winter locked the streams again. A snowy mantle covered the hills and valleys, and the bleak winds moaned through the naked trees. The merry sleigh-bells jingled in the streets, and merrier lads and lasses filled the village school-house. The skating grounds never presented more attractions to Nat and his circle of schoolmates.
"The ice is smooth as glass," said John. "I never saw better skating in my life. Will you try it right after school?"
These words were addressed to a group of school-boys at the afternoon recess, to which all but two responded in the affirmative. It was a snapping cold day, but youthful skaters mind nothing for that.
"George and I have promised to see the teacher after school about studying grammar," said Neander, "so that we can't go."
"He wants to form a new class in grammar for beginners, and our parents have told him that we must study it," said George.
"I will sell you whatIknow about it cheap, if you will go with us," said John, who had studied grammar a short time.
"I don't think he will be troubled to find use for as much as that," said Charlie, jocosely.
"You will find it dry as a chip," added John. "It fairly makes me thirsty to study it."
The bell rung, and the boys hurried to their seats. At the close of the school, the teacher took occasion to say, "that some scholars were desirous of beginning the study of grammar. I think there might be quite a large class formed of those who are old enough to begin. It is a very important science. It will teach you how to read and write the English language correctly. You cannot write a good letter even without some knowledge of this study. Those of you who are eleven or twelve years of age ought to commence it at once. Now, those of you who would like to join such a class may stop after the school is dismissed, and we will make the arrangements."
Three or four only remained—others passed out, Nat and Charlie among them. They had never studied grammar, and the teacher really expected they would remain. Their scholarship was so good that he inferred they would desire to unite with such a class, but he was mistaken.
"Shall you join the grammar class, Nat?" inquired Charlie, on their way to the pond.
"No; I think that other studies will be of more use to me. Grammar is a good branch for rich men's sons, who can go to school as long as they want to; but I am not a rich man's son, and I never expect to do any thing that will require a knowledge of grammar."
"That is my idea exactly," continued Charlie. "If I knew I should ever go into a store, or be a town officer, I should want to study it."
"According to the teacher's ideas, you will need it if you are nothing more than a wood-sawyer's clerk," said John.
"I didn't quite believe all the teacher said about writing letters," added Nat. "I have heard father say that grammar was not studied at all whenhewent to school, and that it has been introduced into school quite recently. Now I would like to know if people did not understand how to write letters in those days. Couldn't Washington and Jefferson, and other great men, write letters correctly?"
"I never thought of that," said Charlie. "I would ask the teacher, if I were in your place, to-morrow."
"For one," said John, "I should be willing to run my risk, if I could get rid of studying it. I can't make much out of it."
"I have no doubt," added Nat, "that it is a good study for those who will want to use it; butI(?) shall never want to use it, and it is better for me to study something else. Arithmetic is useful to everybody, if they never buy any thing but meat out of a butcher's cart."
By this time they had reached the pond, so that the subject of grammar was dropped, and skating taken up.
"I suppose you will bear off the palm as usual, Nat," said Frank, while he was putting on his skates.
"I don't know about that," replied Nat; "if a fellow can't skate some on this glare ice, he better give his skates to somebody who can."
Frank's remark was drawn out by the fact that Nat was already considered the best skater in the village. He could skate more rapidly, and perform more feats on his skates than any one else. His ability had been fully tested again and again; and by this time there seemed to be a sort of expectation among the boys that he would be "first best" in whatever he undertook. For this reason they hardly attempted to compete with him, but yielded the first place to him as a matter of course.
Away went Nat up the pond, and Charlie exclaimed,
"See him go! What a fellow Nat is! any thing he undertakes has to go. See him skate now on one foot, and now he is skating backwards!"
"And he does it just as easy as a boy knows his father," said John.
For nearly an hour skating was enjoyed, when all concluded that their suppers would be waiting, and so they separated for home.
On the following day, soon after school began in the morning, the teacher brought up the subject of a grammar class, evidently dissatisfied that certain boys did not remain after school, on the previous afternoon, to join it. He remarked "that there were several boys in school, who might study grammar as well as not," and he went on to call the names of some, and turning to Nat and Charlie, who sat together, he said, "Both of you need to begin this study at once. It would have been better if you had undertaken it before; but it is not too late now. You will never regret it hereafter. I want both of you to join the class," and he uttered the last sentence as if he meant it.
Neither Nat nor Charlie made any reply at the time; but at recess they went to the teacher and made known their feelings.
"We never expect to do any thing that will require a knowledge of grammar," said Nat. "It will do well enough for rich men's sons."
"Perhaps both of you will be lawyers, ministers, legislators, or governors yet," replied the teacher, smiling. "Poorer boys than you have risen to occupy as important places, and the like may happen again."
"None of the scholars like grammar," said Charlie; "they say it is dry and uninteresting, and hard to understand."
"If it is so," answered the teacher, "that is no reason why it should not be studied. We have to do some very unpleasant things in this world. If you live to become men, you will find that you cannot have every thing to your taste. You will be obliged to do some things, from the doing of which you would rather be excused. And as to your not expecting to occupy stations in future life, where you will find a knowledge of grammar useful, there is more prospect of it than there was that Benjamin Franklin would become distinguished. He had not half so good advantages as you have. His father was poor, and had a large family to support. He was compelled to take Benjamin out of school, when ten years old, and set him to making soap, which was not very popular business. But the boy did as well as he could, and made improvement though deprived of school advantages. Then he became a printer boy, and used all his spare moments to read and study, so that he advanced more rapidly than many of his companions did who continued in school. He always had to work, and had much more reason than you have, when he was of your age, to say that he should never occupy a position of influence. Yet he became, as you know, one of the most learned men of his age, a philosopher andstatesman whose fame will never perish. And it was somewhat so with Patrick Henry. Though he had better advantages than Benjamin Franklin, and had a father who was able to assist him, yet no one thought he would ever become distinguished. It was rather thought by the people who knew him, that he would never accomplish much. Yet, when he came to improve the small opportunities he had, after his father had ceased to aid him, he rapidly advanced to fame. He became the most noted orator of his day, and a very popular statesman. When he was twelve years old, he had no idea of occupying such a place in manhood. He would have laughed at the suggestion. There are many such examples; and they show us that boys may rise to stations they never expect to hold, so that your plea for not studying grammar is a poor one. At any rate, both of you will have occasion to write letters, and perhaps you will be a town clerk or justice. I shall insist upon your studying grammar."
Nat and Charlie exchanged glances, as the teacher rung the bell for the boys to come in. They saw that it was no use to hold out against his wishes, for his last remark had settled the matter. Therefore they reluctantly yielded to his request.
This was the first instance in which Nat had exhibited any unwillingness to take up a new study. But he had made up his mind that it would not be of any use to him, so that he had little heart for thescience. He commenced it, and recited his lessons, though rather mechanically, without clearly understanding them, at the same time excelling in arithmetic, declamation, and other exercises that engaged his attention. As his school days ended a few months after, his knowledge of grammar was very limited indeed. The sequel will disclose whether he was not finally convinced that the teacher was right, while he himself was wrong, and whether the failure to improve even one small opportunity does not become the occasion of future regret.
"Well, Nat, how do you like grammar?" inquired John, some weeks afterwards.
"As well as I can," replied Nat.
"So do I, and that isn't saying much. But I thought you was determined not to study it."
"I thought so too," replied Nat, "and you see what thought did."
"I suppose you concluded that you would want to write letters to your sweet-heart some time, and it would be a pity not to use the English language with propriety in such a case."
"I didn't think much about it; but when a boy can't do as he likes, there is no way left but to do as he must, and that is my case."
"I thought the teacher bore rather hard upon us," said Charlie, who had been listening to the conversation.
"Perhaps you will thank him for it when you get to be Dr. Franklin, Jr.," answered Nat, in a jesting manner.
"It can't be denied," interrupted John, "that the teacher is a great grammarian. Didn't he put Sam into the objective case yesterday, when he tumbled him head over heels out of his seat? If his action didn't pass over to an object then, I won't guess again."
"Sam looked as if he was convinced that the teacher was an active verb," said Nat. "He found out that he was neither neuter nor passive."
The subject of grammar became a frequent theme of remark during the remainder of the term among the boys. None of them liked it very well, so that poor grammar was slandered, and many a joke was cracked over it.
It was during this term that Sam Drake allowed his mischief-making propensity to exhibit itself in a cruel act, for which he was condemned by nearly all beholders. The boys were returning from school one night, when a well-known dog, belonging to a neighbor, came out to salute his young master, one of the scholars. He was somewhat larger than Trip, and a playful fellow, ready to frolic with the boys.
"Come here, Spot," said Sam to the dog, "good fellow, can you run after a stick to-night?" and he patted him upon his head, till the dog (who wasusually shy of Sam) seemed to think that he was a good friend. "There, go and bring that to me," at the same time throwing a little stick one or two rods.
Spot obeyed at once, and brought back the stick, apparently conscious of having performed his duty well.
"What do you suppose he would do if I should tie my dinner pail to his tail?" inquired Sam.
"You shan't do it," cried two or three boys, none more loudly, however, than Nat.
"Ishalldo it, if I am a mind to," replied Sam; and he proceeded to take a string out of his pocket for this purpose.
"You are too bad to do that," said John, trying to dissuade him from doing it.
"It seems to me that you all have a heap of pity just now," said Sam.
"I wishyouhad," responded Nat.
"Youwould get precious little of it, Mr. Squash-peddler, if I had," answered Sam. "The dog is none of your relations, and you needn't trouble yourself about him."
Ben Drake, ere this, had turned to aid Sam in executing his purpose, and the pail was actually tied to Spot's tail before this conversation closed.
"Take off the cover," said Ben, and no quicker said than done; whereupon Spot ran yelping downthe street, the tin pail rattling behind him so as to frighten him beyond measure. The faster he ran, the more the pail rattled, and the more terrified the dog was. Men stopped in the street to see the cruel sport, and express their disapproval.
"It is one of Sam Drake's tricks," said Charlie to an inquiry put by a gentleman.
Sam and Ben laughed till they could scarcely stand upon their feet to see the dog run. It was just such sport as they loved.
"Hurrah for Spot!" shouted Sam, swinging his hat. "He'll spill his dinner if he don't carry the pail more carefully."
"If it wasmydog," said Frank, "you would find my father after you."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," added Nat. "It would not have been more cruel in you to kill him outright. You are always up to something of the kind."
Not one of the boys approved of Sam's and Ben's cruelty. All expressed decided sympathy for Spot, and were glad to see the pail drop from his tail by the time he had run thirty or forty rods.