We must pass over many weeks, and even months, of Frank's school life, during which time, he had become quite domesticated, in Mr. Reed's family, and felt as much at ease there, as he did at home. His attachment to Mrs. Reed, had increased as his father had predicted, and he acknowledged that he loved her, now, next to his mother, and not such a great distance between them, either. I shall only insert one or two letters, written by Frank, during this period.
'Dear Mother,I do not wonder that you thought my last letter formal, for I wrote it on composition day, that is, on Thursday morning. All the scholarswrite something; either choose a theme, or write a letter to one of their friends. They show their composition to the master, who corrects it, and awards to each, so many merits. I got quite a high mark for that letter, though I believe it was for the hand writing. I knew it was not the least like such an one, as I should write, all by myself. I told Mrs. Reed what you said about it, and she advised me, to write to you in play hours, not show it to any one, and tell you every thing I could think of. So I have determined to write my play hour letters to you, mother, and my composition letters to father; and if you do not think this is treating you fair, I will now and then, write a composition letter to you; but I do not know as I shall ever venture to send one of the other kind, to father.I suppose you will excuse me for telling you, that I am second of all the school, in arithmetic, as nobody else will tell you, and it will please you very much to know it. We had a trial of skill the other day;each took the same sum, it was a dreadful hard one, each began at the same moment. William Gardiner, who is fourteen years old, finished his first; I handed mine up second; when they were all done, Mr. Reed examined them, and only twelve were right, out of twenty; and mine was one of those which had 'correct' written on it. Mr. Reed praised me very much, and said I had paid great attention to his instructions, in cyphering, and that if the other boys had been as attentive, they might, at least, have equalled one so much younger than many of them. I was delighted when Mr. Reed spoke of my success at table, and praised me to Mrs. Reed, and after dinner, she came up to me, and took my hand, and said, in such a kind manner, 'I am glad you have gained so much credit, Frank.' I did feel elated, I must own, mother. When I went up to my room, at night, I took out my talisman: as soon as I put my eyes on it, I perceived the reason of my doing the sum right, and where the praise was due. Itwas to you, who took such pains, just before I left home, to make me perfect in the four first rules of arithmetic, so that let me cypher in what rule I may, I am sure to get right, because I never miss in adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing; and the truth is, I have been lessattentiveto Mr. Reed's instructions in arithmetic, than most of the others, because I knew so well, for he takes great pains in this branch. After looking on my talisman a few moments, I was no longer at a loss what I ought to do, and though it was rather disagreeable, I resolved on it.I had not the courage to apply to Mr. Reed, but I went to Mrs. Reed, and told her, I did not deserve the praise of being more attentive to arithmetic than the other boys; for in the whole, I had been less so, and that several of those who failed yesterday, had been very attentive; and then I explained how it happened, thatIdid the sum, and asked her to tell Mr. Reed, that although the boys did not succeed as well as myself, yet they deservedas much praise for attention. This was in the morning, and I believe she told Mr. Reed after school; for at dinner this day, he began and said—'young gentlemen, I owe you an apology. I find you have been quite as attentive in your arithmetic, as Frank Courtland has;' and then he repeated what I had said, but added he, this 'ingenuousness deserves still higher praise, than what I bestowed yesterday. If Frank Courtland is not the best arithmetician, is he not the most honest boy in the school?' 'Yes sir, yes sir,' they all called out, and clapped their hands loud enough to stun us. This is the happiest moment I have had, since I left home; and if you knew some things which I cannot tell you, then you would understand why it delighted me so exceedingly, to be called an honest boy.I have been three days, writing this letter, and yet I have not said half I want to say. I must beg you to excuse the writing, for I have written a good deal of it on the steps of the barn door, a shadyplace, where I often sit with my port-folio, you made me, and my little pocket inkstand. Love to Sam, I hope he has received my last letter; love to father, and a kiss to little Ann.Your affectionate Son,Frank.'
'Dear Mother,
I do not wonder that you thought my last letter formal, for I wrote it on composition day, that is, on Thursday morning. All the scholarswrite something; either choose a theme, or write a letter to one of their friends. They show their composition to the master, who corrects it, and awards to each, so many merits. I got quite a high mark for that letter, though I believe it was for the hand writing. I knew it was not the least like such an one, as I should write, all by myself. I told Mrs. Reed what you said about it, and she advised me, to write to you in play hours, not show it to any one, and tell you every thing I could think of. So I have determined to write my play hour letters to you, mother, and my composition letters to father; and if you do not think this is treating you fair, I will now and then, write a composition letter to you; but I do not know as I shall ever venture to send one of the other kind, to father.
I suppose you will excuse me for telling you, that I am second of all the school, in arithmetic, as nobody else will tell you, and it will please you very much to know it. We had a trial of skill the other day;each took the same sum, it was a dreadful hard one, each began at the same moment. William Gardiner, who is fourteen years old, finished his first; I handed mine up second; when they were all done, Mr. Reed examined them, and only twelve were right, out of twenty; and mine was one of those which had 'correct' written on it. Mr. Reed praised me very much, and said I had paid great attention to his instructions, in cyphering, and that if the other boys had been as attentive, they might, at least, have equalled one so much younger than many of them. I was delighted when Mr. Reed spoke of my success at table, and praised me to Mrs. Reed, and after dinner, she came up to me, and took my hand, and said, in such a kind manner, 'I am glad you have gained so much credit, Frank.' I did feel elated, I must own, mother. When I went up to my room, at night, I took out my talisman: as soon as I put my eyes on it, I perceived the reason of my doing the sum right, and where the praise was due. Itwas to you, who took such pains, just before I left home, to make me perfect in the four first rules of arithmetic, so that let me cypher in what rule I may, I am sure to get right, because I never miss in adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing; and the truth is, I have been lessattentiveto Mr. Reed's instructions in arithmetic, than most of the others, because I knew so well, for he takes great pains in this branch. After looking on my talisman a few moments, I was no longer at a loss what I ought to do, and though it was rather disagreeable, I resolved on it.
I had not the courage to apply to Mr. Reed, but I went to Mrs. Reed, and told her, I did not deserve the praise of being more attentive to arithmetic than the other boys; for in the whole, I had been less so, and that several of those who failed yesterday, had been very attentive; and then I explained how it happened, thatIdid the sum, and asked her to tell Mr. Reed, that although the boys did not succeed as well as myself, yet they deservedas much praise for attention. This was in the morning, and I believe she told Mr. Reed after school; for at dinner this day, he began and said—'young gentlemen, I owe you an apology. I find you have been quite as attentive in your arithmetic, as Frank Courtland has;' and then he repeated what I had said, but added he, this 'ingenuousness deserves still higher praise, than what I bestowed yesterday. If Frank Courtland is not the best arithmetician, is he not the most honest boy in the school?' 'Yes sir, yes sir,' they all called out, and clapped their hands loud enough to stun us. This is the happiest moment I have had, since I left home; and if you knew some things which I cannot tell you, then you would understand why it delighted me so exceedingly, to be called an honest boy.
I have been three days, writing this letter, and yet I have not said half I want to say. I must beg you to excuse the writing, for I have written a good deal of it on the steps of the barn door, a shadyplace, where I often sit with my port-folio, you made me, and my little pocket inkstand. Love to Sam, I hope he has received my last letter; love to father, and a kiss to little Ann.
Your affectionate Son,
Frank.'
'Dear Sam,I thank you for your long letter. I am glad you have written to me at last; for I began to think you never would. You need not have waited till you could write a better hand; for I am not obliged to show the letters I receive, unless I choose. I did show yours, because it was written so well. Mr. Reed said, that it did you great credit and also your instructor; so I thought I would tell him that it was mother who had taught you. He said he wished he could have another of mother's pupils in his school; and I wish to my heart youcouldcome. There are many clever boys here. I like some of them very much; but theythink differently from you and I in many respects. They get into scrapes and get out of them wonderfully. They used to lead me into them, when I first came; but they don't invite me now, for they know I will not join them, if I think it wrong. They are good boys on the whole; and William Gardiner and Albert Lawrence are so brave and droll, and kind, that I can't help liking them; and so do all the boys. Thomas Blanchard is an excellent fellow, though rather serious; he is three years older than I am. He helped me very much about my latin, when I first came, or I am sure, I never should have got along; for it is harder than any thing I ever learned; and you must not suppose that it is as easy to learn a thing at school, as with mother; for you know how much patience she has, and how clear she makes it before she has done. I am glad you continue your studies with mother, for I know you are very desirous of learning, and it must be a great amusement to her.As Tom Blanchard was so kind in helping me to get my latin lessons, I have taught him to draw. You will wonder how I could do this, since I know so little myself. I remembered mother's instructions and repeated them to him, and lent him my pencils and all my patterns; he is such a genius, that he has got on far before me, and draws very prettily. He has taken a view of Mr. Reed's house and garden for me. As I know you would like to see what a pleasant place I live in, I am going to send it to you. Tom says, he shall not be affronted. Will you shew it to mother? and tell sister Ann, that if she can write as well as you tell of, I wish she would write me a letter. I should be proud to shew one from a little sister, six years old.I had no chance to send this letter the day I wrote; therefore I will fill the sheet.We had a grand time, the day before yesterday. It was the fourth of July; we wished very much to celebrate it, and asked Mr. Reed a month before it came, tolet us have some music, and invite the young ladies of this village, and some from Boston, and have a dance. Mrs. Reed begged him to consent, and so he did. My cousins came, and a great many more; and William Gardiner thought my cousin Emily was the prettiest girl in the room. I had a share in planning a very pleasant part of the entertainment. I proposed to Gardiner, Lawrence, and some of our best fellows, that after we had danced some time, we should take the musicians out among the trees in the garden; and that while the company were sitting down to rest, they should strike up some fine tunes, which would attract them to the door, and into the garden; and then we would have a number of sky rockets sent up, all at once, from the bottom of the garden. We boys were to club and pay for the rockets, and no one else was to know a lisp of the plan. I insisted on asking Mr. Reed's leave; but we wanted to surprise Mrs. Reed, so she was not told of it.Mr. Reed consented on condition that we would take our allowance of spending money, and not incur any further expense, to which we agreed. And then we thought of another thing, which made it very pretty. We formed an arbour of evergreen branches and flowers and hung in it some coloured lamps, which William Gardiner procured in town; for he is a capital fellow to do any thing that he sets about. Tom Blanchard made a transparency, and wrote on it, 'In honor of Mrs. Reed,' which was to be put over the entrance of the arbour. But Albert Lawrence and some others said this was not appropriate; as it was the fourth of July, we ought to have something about independence. I thought they were right, though I was sadly disappointed, that we could not pay the compliment to Mrs. Reed. Tom altered the motto, and put the word independence on it.The sky rockets went off grandly, and the arbour looked beautifully when it was lighted. Mrs. Reed and some of the ladiessat in it, and we handed them some fruit and flowers, of both which we had a great variety and abundance from the garden. If you do not know what coloured lamps or transparencies are, I will tell you when I come home, or you can ask mother. I shall have enough to tell you; we are always having some pleasant thing on foot; but we are obliged to study very hard, to procure these indulgences; for they are all given as rewards. I found this studying very tiresome when I first came: yet now I am used to it, I can do more in an hour, than I could in a forenoon at home.Please to give my respects to your father and mother and brothers. Your affectionate friend,Frank.'
'Dear Sam,
I thank you for your long letter. I am glad you have written to me at last; for I began to think you never would. You need not have waited till you could write a better hand; for I am not obliged to show the letters I receive, unless I choose. I did show yours, because it was written so well. Mr. Reed said, that it did you great credit and also your instructor; so I thought I would tell him that it was mother who had taught you. He said he wished he could have another of mother's pupils in his school; and I wish to my heart youcouldcome. There are many clever boys here. I like some of them very much; but theythink differently from you and I in many respects. They get into scrapes and get out of them wonderfully. They used to lead me into them, when I first came; but they don't invite me now, for they know I will not join them, if I think it wrong. They are good boys on the whole; and William Gardiner and Albert Lawrence are so brave and droll, and kind, that I can't help liking them; and so do all the boys. Thomas Blanchard is an excellent fellow, though rather serious; he is three years older than I am. He helped me very much about my latin, when I first came, or I am sure, I never should have got along; for it is harder than any thing I ever learned; and you must not suppose that it is as easy to learn a thing at school, as with mother; for you know how much patience she has, and how clear she makes it before she has done. I am glad you continue your studies with mother, for I know you are very desirous of learning, and it must be a great amusement to her.
As Tom Blanchard was so kind in helping me to get my latin lessons, I have taught him to draw. You will wonder how I could do this, since I know so little myself. I remembered mother's instructions and repeated them to him, and lent him my pencils and all my patterns; he is such a genius, that he has got on far before me, and draws very prettily. He has taken a view of Mr. Reed's house and garden for me. As I know you would like to see what a pleasant place I live in, I am going to send it to you. Tom says, he shall not be affronted. Will you shew it to mother? and tell sister Ann, that if she can write as well as you tell of, I wish she would write me a letter. I should be proud to shew one from a little sister, six years old.
I had no chance to send this letter the day I wrote; therefore I will fill the sheet.
We had a grand time, the day before yesterday. It was the fourth of July; we wished very much to celebrate it, and asked Mr. Reed a month before it came, tolet us have some music, and invite the young ladies of this village, and some from Boston, and have a dance. Mrs. Reed begged him to consent, and so he did. My cousins came, and a great many more; and William Gardiner thought my cousin Emily was the prettiest girl in the room. I had a share in planning a very pleasant part of the entertainment. I proposed to Gardiner, Lawrence, and some of our best fellows, that after we had danced some time, we should take the musicians out among the trees in the garden; and that while the company were sitting down to rest, they should strike up some fine tunes, which would attract them to the door, and into the garden; and then we would have a number of sky rockets sent up, all at once, from the bottom of the garden. We boys were to club and pay for the rockets, and no one else was to know a lisp of the plan. I insisted on asking Mr. Reed's leave; but we wanted to surprise Mrs. Reed, so she was not told of it.
Mr. Reed consented on condition that we would take our allowance of spending money, and not incur any further expense, to which we agreed. And then we thought of another thing, which made it very pretty. We formed an arbour of evergreen branches and flowers and hung in it some coloured lamps, which William Gardiner procured in town; for he is a capital fellow to do any thing that he sets about. Tom Blanchard made a transparency, and wrote on it, 'In honor of Mrs. Reed,' which was to be put over the entrance of the arbour. But Albert Lawrence and some others said this was not appropriate; as it was the fourth of July, we ought to have something about independence. I thought they were right, though I was sadly disappointed, that we could not pay the compliment to Mrs. Reed. Tom altered the motto, and put the word independence on it.
The sky rockets went off grandly, and the arbour looked beautifully when it was lighted. Mrs. Reed and some of the ladiessat in it, and we handed them some fruit and flowers, of both which we had a great variety and abundance from the garden. If you do not know what coloured lamps or transparencies are, I will tell you when I come home, or you can ask mother. I shall have enough to tell you; we are always having some pleasant thing on foot; but we are obliged to study very hard, to procure these indulgences; for they are all given as rewards. I found this studying very tiresome when I first came: yet now I am used to it, I can do more in an hour, than I could in a forenoon at home.
Please to give my respects to your father and mother and brothers. Your affectionate friend,
Frank.'
The summer months passed rapidly away.—Frank continued to meet with temptations, which as he usually had the strength to resist them, served to confirm his self-control. If, as was now and then the case, he was betrayed into vanity,peevishness or imprudence, the sight of his faithful talisman brought conviction of the error to his mind, and inspired him with resolution, to make all the reparation in his power. The boys all loved and respected him; and many, who from timidity used to join a party they disapproved, were now emboldened, by his example, to abide by their better judgment, and mischievous projects became gradually less popular in the school.
Frank was spirited and active, and never refused to join in any thing however hazardous or fatiguing, provided it was not dishonorable. No one would venture to say, he wanted courage or ingenuity; though William Gardiner and a few others, still persevered in asserting, that he was squeamish; and they ascribed this to his having been kept during the first years of his life, out of the society of boys of his own age. The purity and moral sensibility which were by this means preserved in his character, more than compensated for any little defects,which the retirement of his childhood had occasioned. His kind and judicious parents had selected the right moment to change the influence to which he had been subjected; and had sent him from home when his principles had gained sufficient strength to resist the danger, to which a contact with others less pure than himself, might expose them; and before any bad habits or narrow views had become fixed in his character.
One such boy in a large school, so attractive in his manners and disposition, and at the same time, so inflexible in virtue, is of inestimable value. Their good influence over the other boys, the majority of whom are of that uncertain class who always follow a leader, and whose destiny depends on their finding a good or a bad one, cannot be too highly appreciated. Mr. Reed was fully aware of this, and it was with great pleasure that he communicated to his wife, a letter he had received from Mr. Courtland, requesting that Frank might return home to pass theautumn vacation, and engaging a place for him for the next term.
We shall only relate one more of the many little incidents which occurred to Frank, during this summer, and then take our leave.
'Frank,' said Mr. Reed one pleasant afternoon, 'you like a long walk; will you do me the favor to take this letter to Squire Brazer's and get an answer? It must go to night.'
'Yes, with pleasure,' answered Frank; and took his hat.
'You would like a companion?'
'If you please. Shall I ask William Gardiner?'
'You need not hurry yourselves; but take a pleasant walk and pick blackberries by the way; only get home by dark.'
The boys walked on a mile or two, stopping now and then to gather berries, and some of the last wild roses, which yet remained, in a few sequestered spots; and conversing very pleasantly, when they approached an old house, standingback from the road, and nearly concealed by a row of elm trees. At the fence, by the road side, was standing very quietly, though not fastened, an old horse, and rather a shabby chaise.
'That's Parson Allen's chaise,' said William Gardiner. I'll warrant you, he is making a sermon a mile long, to the old maids within; who, no doubt are listening to him with the most flattering attention: for I suspect, a call from a gentleman is a rare occurrence to them.'
'Yes,' said Frank, laughing; 'I dare say we might ride to the Squire's and back again in his chaise, before the sermon was ended; and the old horse would like it better, than standing here in the sun.'
'It is rather provoking,' said Gardiner; 'that as there is so much shade, he could not be put in it.'
'I make no doubt he was,' replied Frank; 'when the parson first stopped; but probably the sun has moved on to another place, since that time.'
'That is a good thought of yours, Frank,' said Gardiner; 'come get in, I will take all the risk, and pay all damages. It would be a lucky hit for his reverence, if we broke the vehicle, and had to get a new one.'
'More lucky for him than for us,' said Frank, who had his foot on the step, ready to get in; 'second thoughts are best; no, we had better not.'
'There is your ridiculous particularity; I don't believe there is another boy in the school, would refuse.—If the parson should come out, and find the horse had walked off, he would only go back and make the old ladies another sermon, which would be so much the more for the good of their souls.'
Frank's good genius prevailed; his talisman rose up to his thoughts like a guardian angel, and he said, 'it will be safest not to go.'
'Well, I will not be baulked of the ride,' said William,—'Lawrence says, that I once took the lead in every thing;but that now I am no better than your shadow; and that you govern me entirely; so I will go, if it is only to tell him, I have acted once for myself.'
'I will walk on with the letter,' said Frank, 'and shall probably meet you on my return.'
William Gardiner jumped into the chaise, and by dint of twitching the reins, and applying the whip, succeeded in getting the horse into a trot, and was soon out of sight. Frank proceeded with a light step, and a still lighter heart, and delivered the letter. After waiting half an hour for the answer, he returned, walking very fast, as it was late. When he passed the old house, he saw Mr. Allen's horse and chaise standing exactly in the same position in which they first found it; and a short distance beyond, he overtook William.
'You have been gone for ever,' said he; 'why, I do believe I have rode six miles, at least. I left the chaise in the same spot; nobody but yourself, I will ventureto say, is the wiser for the expedition; for I turned down that unfrequented lane.'
They reached home before night; Frank delivered the answer to Mr. Reed. Gardiner told of his ride to Albert Lawrence and a few other boys. They had a good laugh,—said it was a capital trick, and they thought it would be a real kindness to the horse, to relieve him occasionally, from the tiresome business of standing an hour or two, in the same spot.
The next evening, the minister called on Mr. Reed, and finding he was in the play room, and all the boys round him, (for he often passed an hour with them in this way,) he walked in. Mr. Allen was an amiable man, and a group of happy young folks was always a pleasing sight to him.
The boys were relating remarkable occurrences; each one trying to recollect something strange, which he had lately heard or read of.
'I believe I can tell a singular story, which happened only yesterday,' saidMr. Allen; though it may be rather too sad to relate in this merry company. But they may as well look on the shadows now and then, in the morning of life; for their turn must come. I went yesterday afternoon to call on the Miss Bradford's, worthy women as any in my parish. The special object of this visit, however, was not themselves, but their niece, Miss Alice Bradford; who has been in a consumption for more than a year, and came out here six weeks ago, for the benefit of the country air. The change was rather hurtful than beneficial; she failed fast, and became too ill to be carried back. I had not, however, thought her quite so near her end, as she proved to be. When I got there yesterday afternoon, I entered into prayer with her, and found her spirit peaceful and resigned. The piety and innocence of her short life, gave tranquility and hope to her dying hour. Neither she nor her aunts appeared to apprehend immediate dissolution. I had witnessed too many death-bed scenes, not to know itssymptoms, even when most deceitful. Her aunt said, that she appeared to have but one earthly wish remaining; and that they hoped to gratify, the next morning. It was to see her younger sister, who had been purposely kept away; as the sight of Alices' sufferings distressed her exceedingly. My mother has gone before me, said the sweet girl. I am ready to join her; though I had hoped it might be the will of our Heavenly Father that I should be spared to my sister. Not as I will, but as thou wilt, she added, after a moment's pause, and a great struggle; but I should like to take leave of her and give her a few words of advice; as they are the last, they will make a deep impression on her mind. I called one of the ladies aside, and told her the present was the only time; I did not believe her niece would be alive in the morning. She shuddered, and exclaimed, what shall I do! how can I send for her sister now. I have no horse,—no man. I will go, I replied; my horse is at the door I shall be back beforeit is late; I will go directly. Thank you, sir; thank you a thousand times; do go directly—and she returned to prepare the young woman to receive her sister.
When I went to the bottom of the avenue, my horse and chaise were not there; by the marks in the road, I found he had turned round, and presumed he had taken a homeward direction. I hastened there, when I arrived out of breath at home, no one had seen him. I resolved to lose no more precious time, for I knew that the sands must be nearly all out in the poor young creature's glass: so I hurried to Dr. Parker to beg him to lend me his chaise; the Dr. had gone to visit at Brookline: then I went to farmer Thomson; he willingly lent his horse, but had neither chaise nor waggon. I determined to go over to Mr. Welles' and borrow his chaise. In doing this, I of course, passed by Miss Bradford's house. I had lost nearly an hour and a half,—there I found my horse standing exactly as I had lefthim, in the former part of the afternoon. I could not stop to make either inquiries or reflections; but got in, hastened into town, and brought the young sister out in the shortest time possible.
Soon after my departure from Miss Bradford's, the unequivocal symptoms of death began to come on; but the poor creature made great exertion to keep up her strength, anxiously expecting the arrival of her sister, and wondering at the delay. She took some drops which revived her a good deal; and half an hour before I arrived, conversed freely with her aunts; spoke of her perfect reliance on the goodness of God, and the merits of the Saviour, and gave many injunctions in case she did not see her sister. Erewereached there, it was too late. She took her sister's hand, looked up in her face with an expression of disappointment which I shall never forget; but she was speechless. The hour and a half which I lost, in looking for a chaise, deprived her of that last and most earnestly desired satisfaction,the power of taking leave of her sister, and of giving her the invaluable instructions of her dying hour.
I went there again, this morning. She lived till daylight, but did not speak. The sister is overwhelmed with grief.—'Could she have spoken to me,—could I have been with her but one hour earlier I could have borne it,' was all she said.'
Every one present was deeply affected by the narration; all mirth ceased, and tears and sobs came in its place. Mr. Reed was himself surprised at the effect it had produced on some of the boys, touching as it was; he remarked a deadly paleness on William Gardiner's countenance; little did he suspect the true cause.
'I fear I have thrown a gloom over your happy family,' said Mr. Allen. 'It was not my intention to make the sad relation when I came among you; but I was led to it from the singular circumstance of my horse having gone off; for I have used him ten years, and never knew any thing of the sort to happen before.He knows all my parishioners' doors, I believe, as well as I do, and has never shown before, that he thought my visits to them too long.
I should have imagined that some mischievous fellow had taken him; but every body, even the smallest boy round this part of the country knows the animal, and I can't believe that there is one among them, would play me such a trick, and if any one had done so, I should not probably have found the horse returned quietly to the same spot in which I left him.'
'I must believe,' said Mr. Reed, 'that the horse was led away; and I would make inquiry about it.'
Will Gardiner could stand this no longer, but slipped out of the room, lest some questions should be asked.
'Did you pass Miss Bradfords' on your way to squire Brazer's, or did you take the other road, Frank?' said Mr. Reed.
'I passed that way,' answered Frank.
'Did you observe the horse and chaise, as you went?'
'Yes, it was at the gate.'
'And on your return?'
'It was there then also.'
'Well, well, say no more about it, Mr. Reed,' said the good clergyman; 'if it was a piece of mischief, I leave the person who committed it, to the reproaches of his own conscience; he need suffer no greater punishment, if he has any feeling. Though I own it would be a satisfaction to me to know, that my old faithful horse was not to blame.'
Mr. Allen took leave, and the boys soon retired. When Frank went to his room he found William Gardiner in bed; and believing him to be asleep, took a long look at his talisman, revolving in his mind, whether it was his duty to tell all that he knew about the horse, or to be silent on the subject, for William's sake. He remained undecided; but felt no pain or compunction, for he was conscious, that as soon as he had found out the right course, he should not fail to adopt it.
After he had been in bed a short time, William Gardiner raised his head and said, 'Frank, are you asleep.'
'No.'
'Why don't you talk then.'
'I thought you were asleep.'
'No, I am wide awake; I can't get to sleep. What is that little box you have been looking at, so earnestly.'
'It is something.'
'Well I suppose it is; but do you want to keep it a secret; if you do, I won't ask.'
'Why no, not exactly,' said Frank; 'it is something my mother gave me, the night before I left home.'
'Well, what is it, I say?'
'It is a talisman,' said Frank, rather hesitatingly.
'A talisman; what is that?'
'Have you never read of talismans in fairy tales? it is a charm which protects you from danger, as long as you keep it and consult it.'
'I know that is the description of them, in genii and fairy tales; but you do not believe insuchthings do you?'
'No, but this is real; it has a charm for me, to keep me from doing wrong; this is the danger which my mother expected it would secure me against.'
'If it has that sort of power, I wish I had had it this afternoon; then I should have let alone that horse and chaise. Was it the talisman which made you turn away, when your foot was on the step, and you were just ready to jump in?'
'It was the thought of it, I am persuaded. I consult it so frequently, and like to look at it so much, that now it is fixed in my mind; and I see it as distinctly, as if it were really in my hand, whenever I am going to do wrong.'
'And does it stop you short, as it did this afternoon?' said William.
'Unless I am very earnest indeed, too earnest to attend to its admonitions.'
'What did it say to-night, when you looked at it?' asked William.
Frank repeated what the parson had said, after William left the room; the questions Mr. Reed asked, with his ownanswers; and told William that he was trying to come to a decision, what he ought to do.
'O you won't tell, will you? It is an evil spell that prompts you to betray a friend. Besides, what good can it do? If it could restore to the poor dead creature that one hour, I would tell myself instantly.'
'I have decided not to tell,' said Frank, 'without your consent.'
'Don't ask me to give that; it is impossible.'
'Why, you said just now, you would tell yourself, to restore that lost hour. This I know cannot be done; but something as valuable, which you have lost yourself, may be restored, by confessing the truth.'
'What is that?'
'Your own peace of mind; have you not lost that?'
'Yes, I have; I cannot shut my eyes without beholding that speechless, dying girl; it is frightful; I never was such acoward before. But I shall get over it I know, in a few days. Whenever I get into a scrape, I always feel horridly at first, for fear I should be found out,—but I never am, and I soon forget it.'
'But the consequences are seldom so serious, of any of our pranks,' said Frank.
'Why there was the widow's granddaughter who was burned so badly, all owing to my carelessness in dropping that piece of phosphorus, or some of the matches, on the day of our balloon frolic. It troubled me when I first heard of it, as much as it did you. I bought her a new pair of shoes, and I have given her or her grandmother something every time I go that way; and persuaded several of the other boys to do so too. The old woman said the last time I was there, that she hoped she should be brought to a realizing sense that every thing was ordered for the best; for Sally's accident had proved a real blessing to the family.'
'It is striking ten, William;' said Frank.
'Is it?' replied William.—'O dear! I shall never get asleep.'
Frank waked earlier than usual, the next morning; and he found William up and dressed.
'How early you are up,' said he.
'I am going to take a walk,' replied William. 'I feel as if I should smother, if I stay any longer shut up here.'
'Should you like to have me go with you?' said Frank.
'Will you? that's a good fellow.'
After they had walked a little way in silence, Gardiner said, 'I am glad Frank, that I know you have got something to help you to do right; for now there don't seem to be such a difference between us. Albert said, he believed you had a good genius always at your elbow, when you declined going into swimming with us, the day after the guards were broken by the high wind; and Mrs. Reed said your good genius was your virtuous thoughts; but she did not know the whole. IfIhad not gone at that time, Greenville would have been drowned; for there was not a fellow among them all, who had thecourage to jump in after him when he floated outside the bars; so I can't reproach myself for that.'
'You said,' replied Frank, 'Mr. Reed commended your courage very much: but he told you you were as wrong as the others in going; and that we must not do evil that good may come of it.'
'Well, Frank,' said William, 'what would you do in my place about the chaise? suppose I go and tell parson Allen the whole truth; where is the use of it? It would only disgrace the school, to have it talked about all over the neighborhood; and injure the other boys as well as myself.'
'I agree with you,' said Frank; 'but can't you tell Mr. Reed?'
'How could that make the matter any better?'
'You would be relieved from the dread you now feel, of being found out.'
'That is something, I acknowledge; for I never did feel so badly about being found out before.'
'Then,' said Frank, 'if you confess the fault and say you are sorry, you will have made all the reparation in your power, and your conscience will be lightened of a load.'
'I know it, and if I had your talisman, perhaps I should.'
'But you may, if you choose, have the good genius which Mrs. Reed thinks I have—virtuous thoughts.'
'I wish I always did have them, I am sure.'
'If you once brought your mind to confess this,' said Frank; 'I think you would never engage in any more mischief. You know that Mr. Reed told you the day you saved Greenville, that you were a noble fellow; and if you could break yourself of your little mischievous propensities, you might be one of the first in his school, in character, as you now are in talents.'
'Yes,' said William; 'and I remember he advised me to make you my model; and if I had the courage, I would do as you advise.'
'Will you agree to this,' asked Frank; 'you know the questions Mr. Reed asked me about the horse.'
'Yes.'
'I was sorry not to be able to tell all I knew; this will make it natural enough for me to speak of it first; and then I will say I had your consent to tell the whole; that you are very sorry, and are determined to break off your mischievous habits.'
'What will the boys say when they know it?' said William.
'Perhaps Mr. Reed will not choose to tell them; and if he does, all those whose opinions are worth caring for, will think the better of you.'
'I believe they will,' said William; 'for I know we did not think any the less of you, for what you said, the night of the balloon. Frank, I consent; only I should feel better to have you tell it to Mrs. Reed first, and lethertell Mr. Reed,—she is so kind, she will make the very best that can be made of it; and she will not say a harsh word to me.'
'I will,' returned Frank; 'take courage, you will never be sorry, when it is once told,—like having a tooth out, it will be soon over, and you will be relieved.'
'When shall you tell?' asked William.
'When I get a suitable opportunity; don't be too anxious.'
As soon as Frank found Mrs. Reed disengaged, he related to her the whole affair; and represented as he could, with sincerity, that it was only meant as a harmless joke. He said as little of himself as possible, throughout the narration; and omitted almost entirely, the persuasion he was obliged to use, to induce William to take this step. Mrs. Reed sent for William into her own room, and remained alone with him some time; treating him with the tenderness of a mother, and taking care to say nothing which should make him regret for an instant, that he had opened his heart to her.
She then dismissed him, and in the course of the day communicated the matterto her husband; who, though mortified to find that the disgrace of such an affair belonged to any member of his family; yet rejoiced at this proof of an ingenuousness in William Gardiner, which he had almost begun to despair of ever seeing in his character.
In the interview which succeeded, he did not inform William whether he should disclose the truth to Mr. Allen or not; indeed, he had not at that time, made up his mind on the subject.—But he said he should not mention it to any one of the scholars. This indulgence he thought due to the great effort he knew it must have cost William to make the confession.
'I never should have done it, but for Frank; he persuaded me into it.'
'He is your good genius then, William; and I advise you to attach him as closely to your side as possible. Some how or other, he contrives to discern and preserve the right course more perfectly than any of you.'
'I believe,' said Frank, 'I do not deserve more praise on that account, than the others.'
'And why not, if you do in fact excel them?'
'Because,' said Frank, with some embarrassment,—
'Shall I tell?' said William.
'Yes.'
'Because he has something which none of us have; which helps him in doing right.'
'That must be a valuable possession in such a little world as this school,' said Mr. Reed; 'what can it be?'
'A talisman,' answered William; 'which his mother gave him, and said that it would secure him against all harm.'
'From moral harm,' said Frank; 'only from doing what I know to be wrong.'
'If he only just looks at it,' said William, 'it makes him do right.'
'It inspires me with courage to do right,' said Frank.
'May we see this curious treasure?' asked Mr. Reed.
'Yes sir,' said Frank. 'I have intended to show it to Mrs. Reed, for some time.'
Frank ran up to his trunk, took it out and brought it into Mrs. Reed's room. He opened the box and presented it to her. She smiled and looked surprised.
'There is a charm indeed; I do not wonder at its magical influence.—It is, said she—looking up at Frank,—
'My mother's picture,' he answered.
'What a delightful countenance,' exclaimed Mr. Reed. A glance at such features would, I am sure, drive away all evil thoughts. 'Especially if they were a mother's,' said Mrs. Reed; 'and these were the lips from which had proceeded, all your lessons of virtue.'
'I can have no such talisman,' exclaimed William, with a sigh. 'I have no mother. I do not remember her face. She died when I was an infant.'
'This is a great excuse for your faults,' observed Mr. Reed. 'Nothing can supplya mother's place entirely, in the important period of childhood. But you have found a friend who may be a talisman to you, through life, if you will but adhere to him.'
'That I shall, I am resolved,' replied William; 'if he will adopt me.'
'Affection for a worthy object,' said Mrs. Reed; 'whether it be parent or friend, is a talisman which has preserved many a noble youth from the dangers of temptation.'
I trust it will not be uninteresting to our young friends to be informed, that Frank and William's friendship, increased every year; and that it was a source of mutual advantage through life. When Frank went home in the vacation, his parents were delighted with his improvement in looks and manners; he had acquired a manly air, a clear and ready manner of expressing himself. His progress in his studies exceeded their expectations; and his mother told him she was repaid for the sacrifice she had made in parting with him.
The vacation passed away; and when Frank returned to school, both his father and mother accompanied him to Boston. Mrs. Courtland was very desirous of becoming acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Reed, to whom she and her husband felt so much indebted for the happiness and improvements which Frank had found in their family.
Sam Brown's father was so much struck with Frank's improvement, that he resolved to send his son to the same school; though it was rather difficult for him to afford the expense of it. Sam was a boy of fine talents, and well rewarded his father's exertion. He entered college at the same time with Frank and William Gardiner. They were so attached to each other, that they went by the name of the friendly trio; and having quitted the University with honour, became highly respectable and worthy men.
Frank was his mother's pride in manhood, as he had been her hope and comfort in youth.
NEW BOOKS,FOR JUVENILE AND SUNDAY SCHOOL LIBRARIES,PUBLISHED AND SOLD BYWAIT, GREENE & CO.The Happy Valley.The Happy days, 2 parts.The Warning.The Talisman: a tale for Boys.Little Edward, the Good Boy.Life of Leigh Richmond.—N. B. The above are just published.The Well spent Hours—bound.Helen and Maria, 3 parts.Sketches of Natural History.Sketches of Wallington Family.Ann Beaumont.Ellen Sinclair.Harry Hobart.Susan and her Lamb.Sunday School Hymn Book.Sunday School Hymn Book. 1st part separate.Wm Cooper and his family.Biographical Sketches of great and good men.The above Books are among a large collection, for sale by W. G. & Co., which have been carefully examined, and are recommended to the public.They also publishTheJuvenile Miscellany, at $2 per year; also—The Christian Teacher's Manual, at $2 per year.
NEW BOOKS,FOR JUVENILE AND SUNDAY SCHOOL LIBRARIES,PUBLISHED AND SOLD BYWAIT, GREENE & CO.
The Happy Valley.The Happy days, 2 parts.The Warning.The Talisman: a tale for Boys.Little Edward, the Good Boy.Life of Leigh Richmond.—N. B. The above are just published.The Well spent Hours—bound.Helen and Maria, 3 parts.Sketches of Natural History.Sketches of Wallington Family.Ann Beaumont.Ellen Sinclair.Harry Hobart.Susan and her Lamb.Sunday School Hymn Book.Sunday School Hymn Book. 1st part separate.Wm Cooper and his family.Biographical Sketches of great and good men.
The Happy Valley.The Happy days, 2 parts.The Warning.The Talisman: a tale for Boys.Little Edward, the Good Boy.Life of Leigh Richmond.—N. B. The above are just published.The Well spent Hours—bound.Helen and Maria, 3 parts.Sketches of Natural History.Sketches of Wallington Family.Ann Beaumont.Ellen Sinclair.Harry Hobart.Susan and her Lamb.Sunday School Hymn Book.Sunday School Hymn Book. 1st part separate.Wm Cooper and his family.Biographical Sketches of great and good men.
The above Books are among a large collection, for sale by W. G. & Co., which have been carefully examined, and are recommended to the public.
They also publish
TheJuvenile Miscellany, at $2 per year; also—The Christian Teacher's Manual, at $2 per year.
Transcriber's Note:Obvious typographical errors, including several cases of missing or incorrect punctuation, were repaired.In the list of books at the end, ditto marks in the original have been replaced by the actual words they represent.
Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographical errors, including several cases of missing or incorrect punctuation, were repaired.
In the list of books at the end, ditto marks in the original have been replaced by the actual words they represent.