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 PERKINS LIBRARY 
 
 DuUe University 
 
 Kare Dooks 
 
 uunriAM, m. v^> 
 1903 
 
 Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Dred Peacock 
 

 h MASTEE 
 
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 AITTJIOR OF <*GE011GTA «OF.'XJ":>^ ' 
 
 BUKKEw BOYKIN * COMPANy'. 
 
 ■^4§^^^e^~israf^ 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN: 
 
 OR, 
 
 A YOUTH OF BllILLIANT TALENTS, 
 
 WHO WAS 
 
 IiUi:N^Ji]0 BY BAD LUCK. 
 
 UY THK 
 
 AUTHOIl OF "OEORGIA SCENES." 
 
 t- 
 
 MACON, GA.: 
 
 ^ BURKE, BOYKIN & COMPANY. 
 
 1864. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 BURKE, BOYKIN & CO., 
 In the Clerk's Office,- of the Southern District of Georgia. 
 
 
 BUEKJB, ftoTKIN A CO., BOOK AUD JOB rRINTRRB, MACOK, GA. 
 
 I 
 
f 
 
 I'O 
 
 DOCTOR I^EISTRY HULL, 
 
 ATHENS, OEORGJ^IA. 
 
 ALLOAV ME, MT HIGHLY ESTEEMED FRIEND, 
 
 IN.SCIUBF, THIS UNTUKTI -.NDINti VOI.UMH TO YOIT. 
 
 YOU WILL AIM'RECIATE THE TNSCKIPTION 
 
 THE SPIRIT WHICH DICTATES IT, AND KOT BY THE MERIT OF TlIK WOKK. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In 1849, I resided for a few raorUhs in Jackson, Louisiana. During my. 
 sojourn in tliat place, two meritorious young men, who bad established a 
 Press in tlio villaj;e, earnestly solicited me to write for it. I agreed to do 
 so; and as a Colle,£ie and a number of admirable schools graced the village, 
 I framed the story of Master Mitten, to induce the youth of ihe place, to 
 imprevo tiie opportunities which these institutions afforded them of becoming 
 useful and distinguished men. Master Mii'ten an^ his mother, are both 
 imaginary characters ; but who that has had much to do with the instruction 
 of 3'outh, has not .seen both, at least in their leading traits ? 
 
 I I-AID the scone of the story in (jeorgia, and took the liberty of intro- 
 ducing into it, the names of several of my (ieorgiau friends, giving a yery 
 slight touch of Uieir characters in tlio conduct and language which I ascribe 
 to them. I'hh I did, to increase the interest of the story to them at leaat, 
 .should it ever reach the .State of Georgia. 1 deem it proper to mention 
 these things, for the story having been broken off at the fifth chapter, by 
 my departure from Louisiana, when it was resumed in Georgia, fof the 
 J-'lelii »f.' Fire-side. Many finding ihe.se names in it, with ?ome of the char- 
 acteristics' of those who boro them, supposed it to be a veritable history, 
 Avhicli it is not. Master Mitten is introduced to Doctor "Waddtel's celebrated 
 School. in Willffigton, Abbeville District, South Carolina, just as it was, from 
 1S06 to 1800, inclusive. Spraguk has given us a Ijrief skctcli of the Doctor's 
 biography, in which his merits as a Teacher and a Divine are gravely por- 
 trayed. MiTTKN shows the reader tlie man at the head of his .school in ita 
 pa'mic-iJt days. 
 
MASTER WIJJ JAM MITTEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A YOUTH OF BRILLIANT TALENTS, WHO WAS 
 RUINED BY BAD LUCK. 
 
 CHAPTKR I. 
 
 Many years ago there lived in a small village in the State of 
 Greorgia, a pious widow, who was left with an only son and two 
 daug^^te^s. She was in easy circumstances, and managed her tem- 
 poral concerns with great prudence; so that her estate increased with 
 her years. Her son exhibited, at a very early age, great precocity 
 of genius, and the mother lost no opportunity of letting the world 
 know it. AVhen he was but six years old, he had committed little 
 pieces in prose and poetry, which be delivered with remarkable pro- 
 priety for bis years. He knew as much of the scriptures as any 
 child of that age probably ever knew; and he had already made 
 some progress in geography and mental arithmetic. With all this, 
 he was a very handsome boy. It is not to be wondered at, that his 
 mother should be bringing him out in some department of science, 
 upon all occasions ; of course, she often brought him out upon very 
 unsuitable occasions, and sometimes kept him out, greatly to the 
 annoyance of her company. Not to praise his performances, would 
 have been discouraging to Master William Mitten, and very morti- 
 fying to his mother; accordingly, whether they were wjell-timed or 
 ill-timed, everybody praised them. The ladies, all of whom loved 
 Mrs. Mitten, were not unfrequently thrown into raptures at the 
 child's exhibitions. They would snatch him up in their arm.s, kiss 
 him, pronounce him a perfect prodigy, both in beauty of person and 
 power of mind ; and declare that they would be willing to go beg- 
 gars upon the world to have such a child. Others would piously 
 exhort Mrs. JMitten not to set her heart too much upon the child. 
 *' They never saw the little creature, without commingled emotiona 
 of delight and alarm ; so often is it the case that children of such 
 
 B 
 
6 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 wonderful gifts die early." Her brother, Capt. David Thomson, a 
 candid, plain-dealing excellent man, often reproved Mrs M. for jpp,- 
 radinij, as he called it, *' her child upon all occasions." 
 
 '^ Anna," said he, " you will stuff your child so full of pride and 
 vanity, and make him so pert and forward that there will be no 
 living with him. From an objsjct of adiiiiration he will soon become 
 an object of detestation."' 
 
 "No danger, brother — no danger;" she would reply, "I take 
 special care to guard him against these vices." 
 
 At eight years of age, William was placed under the instriietiou 
 of Miss Smith, the teacher of a female school, into which small boys 
 were admitted by courtesy.^ Here he contiuued until his tenth year, 
 when Miss\Smith told his mother that he was getting too old to remain 
 in her school, and that she could keep him no longer. Here Miss 
 Smith whispered something to Mrs. Mitten which drew a smile from 
 her, but which has ever remained a secret between them. It took 
 about the time to deliver it, that it would take to say : '' the truth. 
 is, he is too pretty and too smart to be in a female school." 
 
 William being now out of employment, his mother took six months 
 to deliberate as to what was next to be done with him ; and in the 
 meantime she sent him in the country to stay with his grandmother- 
 On his return she determined to place him under the tuition of Mr. 
 Markham, one of the best of men, and best of instructors. Accord- 
 ingly, she conducted him to the school room of his second pre- 
 ceptor. 
 
 "You will find him, Mr. Markham," said Mrs, M., as she de- 
 livered over her son to the teacher's charge, " easy to lead but hard 
 to drive." 
 
 "■ If that be the case, Madam," said Mr. Markham, " I fear that 
 your son will not do well under my government." 
 
 "Why, surely, Mr. Markham, you don't prefer driving to leading." 
 
 " By no means. Madam — by no means. I much prefer leading; 
 but no child of his age can be always led. Withal, a teacher must 
 goveruj by fixed rules, which cannot be relaxed in favor of one of 
 his pupils, without rendering them worthless, or unjust to all 
 the rest." 
 
 This took Mrs. Mittan a little by surprise ; for she supposed that 
 Mr. Markham would be proud of such an accession to his school as 
 William. She acquiesced, however, in the soundness of his views ; 
 but flattering herself " that he would never find it necessary to 
 drive William," fehe turned him over to the teacher and withdrew. 
 
PIASTER WILLIAM MITTiiN. 7 
 
 William made his debut at school in a dress which was rather 
 tawdry for Sunday, and extravagant for the school-roora. The first ten 
 or fifteen minutes were spent by William and the school boys in inter- 
 changing looks of admiration, which Mr. ^larkham indulged, under 
 pretence of not ob!<crv:ng. At length a pretty general titter began 
 to run through the school at William's expense. Mr. Markham now 
 interposed, with a sternness that instantly brought all to order but 
 William, who tittered in turn, at divers persons and things. But 
 this Mr. Markham haj^pcned not to notice. The object of William's 
 special regards and amusement was -lohn Brown, whose clothes 
 seemed to have been made of remnants of old bed-quilts, so numer- 
 ous and party-colored were their patches. John's attitnde was sls 
 curious as his dress ; he seemed to have derived it from the neck of 
 a crane at rest. His head was flat and bushy, his feet were large 
 and black, and his face bore a marked resemblance to that of a 
 leather-winged bat. [n all his life, AVilliam had never seen exactly 
 such a thing as this ; and he laughed at it, without stint and without 
 disguise. John soon became indignant, and raising his book be- 
 tween his face and the teacher, he set his mouth to going as if re- 
 peating all the vowels and consonants of the alphabet in quick time, 
 and shook his fist at William with a quiver of awful portent. Ac- 
 cording to the mason I y of the school-room these signs meant ; 
 " Never mind, old-feUov:, soon as school's out I'll make yoxi latigh 
 C other side of the mo7ith.'" 
 
 " (^me here, sir," said Markham who always saw more than he 
 seemed to see. "Who are you shaking your fist at, sir ?" 
 
 '< Mr. Markham, that fellow keeps laughing at me, sir." 
 
 " And did'nt you laugh at him first ?" 
 
 " I — I— laughed at him a little bit ; but he keeps at it all the 
 time." lie don't do nothin' else but keep'n' on laughin' at me all 
 the time." 
 
 ," Well, if you laugh at other people, you must lef; them laugh at 
 you ; and now, sir, go to your seat ; and if I catch you shaking 
 your fist at anybody in school hours again, or usint/ it upon anybody 
 a/fcnrards, who has only paid laugh with laugh, I'll shake you." 
 
 There was a little spice of equity here, that John had entirely 
 overlooked : and he wont to his seat much cooler than might have 
 been expected. 
 
 ''Come here, William!" continued the preceptor. William did 
 not move ; and the whole school was electrified at disobedieuoe to 
 Mr. Markham's orders. 
 
8 MASTER WILLIAM MirTEN. 
 
 " Come here, William I" repeated Mr. Markham but with no bet^ 
 ter success. Whereupon he rose, and commenced " leading " him, 
 in quick time, to his seat. Having stationed him by it he said to 
 him : " William 1 know you have been indulged so much that you 
 hardly know the duty of submission to your teacher's orders, or I 
 would correct you for not coming to me when I called you. You 
 must do as I tell you; and I tell you now to quit laughing and get 
 your lesson — t/ou, John Brown, are you tittering again already ? 
 Put down your feet and come here, sir I" Here Mr. 3Iarkham, by 
 way of parenthesis, gave John three cuts, which sounded like a 
 whip-poor-will, and made him dance a jig, a minuet and a polka all 
 in less than a minute. He retired, crying, knd limping and rubbing 
 and shaking his bushy head like a muscovy drake in a pet ; and Mr. 
 Markham proceeded : " I tell you, William, you must obey me " — 
 "Yes, sir," said William, pale as a sheet, 
 
 " I can have no little boys with me who won't do as I tell them" — • 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " If you will be a good boy, and mind your book and your teacher, 
 you need not be afraid of me. Go now and take your seat and quit 
 laughing and get your lesson." 
 
 Williatn obeyed promptly, and hardly took his eyes from his book 
 until the school was dismissed. 
 
 During the recess he begged his mother to take him away from 
 Mr. Markham's school. He said Mr. Markham whipt his scholars, 
 and he " didn't want to go to a man that whipt children." 
 
 " But," said his mother, " you must be a good boy, and then he 
 will not whip you. I've entered you now, and paid your first quar- 
 ter's schooling, and you must go to the end of the quarter." 
 
 William returned to school, and for several weeks did remark. 
 
 ably well. He was put in a class with George Markham, son of the 
 
 preceptor, a promising youth, but equal to William in nothing but 
 
 attention to his studies. As "V^illiam could get his lessons in half 
 
 the time allowed him for this purpose, he soon began to neglect them, 
 
 until the last moment from which he could commit them, and then 
 
 to some time beyond the moment ; and here was the beginning of 
 
 his bad luck. As he grew remiss, Mr. Markham counseled him, 
 
 lectured him, and threatened him ; but all to no purpose. At 
 
 length he told him that the next time he came to recite without 
 
 knowing bis lesson, he would correct him. This alarmed William ft 
 
 good deal ; but not quite enough to stimulate his industry to con> 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 9 
 
 tinued exertion ; and after ten or fifteen lessons he came up deficient 
 again. 
 
 '* Why have you not got this lesson, sir ?" said Mr. Markham 
 with terrific sternness. 
 
 " I — I — was sick, sir !" 
 
 This was William's first falsehood ; but it saved him from a whip- 
 ping which he awfully dreaded ; for though Mr. Markham knew 
 that he had not told the truth, he deemed it best to admit the ex- 
 cuse, at least so far as to withhold the rod of correction for the 
 present. 
 
 As he dismissed the school, he told William to remain a few mo- 
 ments, and when they were alone he thus addressed him : 
 
 " William, I very much fear you told me a falsehood to-day. I 
 saw you all the morning before you came to recite, idling, and 
 whispering, without any appearance of sickness; and since the recita- 
 tion, I have seen no sign of sickness about you. Still I may possibly 
 be mistaken, and I hope I am ; but remember, if ever I find you 
 telling a lie to hide your faults, I will punish you more severely than 
 I would without the lie." He then proceeded to counsePhim kindly 
 and affectionately against the danger of lying. 
 
 William went home in sadness and in tears, for his conscience gave 
 him no rest. His mother sought in vain for the cause of his distress. 
 The next day he went to the school and acquitted himself well for 
 that and the four sncceeding days, for which Mr. ]\Iarkham gave him 
 great credit and encouragement. On the fifth day he got permission 
 to go out, and as he remained out an unusually long time, Mr. M. 
 went in quest of him, and found him in the act of concealing his 
 book among some rubbish near the school house. He wlis unob- 
 served by William, and he withdrew to the school room. Just before 
 the recitation hour William made his appearance. What he had 
 been doing during his absence, was not known ; but that he had not 
 been studying was manifest from his conduct, and still more manifest 
 from his ignorance of the lesson when he came to recite. 
 
 " What have you been doing, William," said Mr. Markham, " that 
 you know nothing of this lesson ?" 
 
 " I lost my book, sir, and I couldn't find it." 
 
 Mr. Markham passed the matter over until he dismissed his school, 
 when he detained William, told him where his book was, repeated 
 his lecture upon lying, and enforced it with a pretty severe flogging. 
 William had never experienced the Jike of that before, and probably 
 would never have experienced it again, but for the imprudence of his 
 
10 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEX. 
 
 mother and. her friends. He .promised his preceptor that he would 
 never repeat his offence j and he went home with a countenance and 
 manner, indicative of a lixe,4 purpose to keep his promise. He told 
 his mother nothing of what had happened, nor did she find it out for 
 four days afterwards. In the meantime, William was all that she or 
 hia preceptor could wish him to be. It so happened, however, that 
 Thomas Nokes had lingered about the school-house, and seen all 
 that had transpired between William and his teacher. He went 
 home where he found Mrs. Glib, one of Mrs. Mitten's most devoted 
 friends^ — as she proved by carrying to her all news that was likely to 
 affect her peace. Mrs. G. had stopped on her way to her brother's 
 in the country, to bid Mrs. Nokes farewell, and had actually risen. to 
 depart, when Tom stept in, big with the events of the day. 
 
 " I tell you, what I" said he, " Mr. Markham give Bill Mitten 
 Jomm to-day I" 
 
 " It isn't possible," exclaimed Mrs. Glib, " that Mr. Markham has 
 whipt that dear, sweet, lovely boy." 
 
 Mrs. Nokes tried to catch Tom's eye, that she might st' p him ; 
 but his whole attention was directed to Mrs. G. and he went on — 
 
 " Yes he did — and he linked it into him like flugins. I'll be 
 bound he made the blood come." 
 
 Here Tom caught his mother's eye, which was darting lightnings 
 at him, and he concluded, " but J. don't reckon he hurt him much 
 though !" 
 
 " Oh, the brute !" muttered Mrs. Glib, aa she left the house for 
 the carriage. 
 
 On the afternoon of the fourth day from her departure, she re- 
 turned to the village, and immediately hastened over to Mrs. Mit- 
 ten's. Mrs. M. met her at the door very cheerfully and very 
 cordially. 
 
 "Oh," ejaculated Mrs. Glib, "how happy I am to find you so 
 cheerful! I was afraid I should find you in" tears." 
 
 "In tears! For what?" 
 
 '*Why, for the unmerciful beating which Mr. Markham gave to 
 your dear, sweet, lovely little Williamj last Friday." 
 
 " Surely there must be some mistake Mrs. Glib. William never 
 saidji word to me about it : and not fifteen minutes before you came 
 .in, Mr. Markham was here congratulating me on the progress my 
 child was. making in everything that was good." 
 
 Here Mrs. G. looked as if she had taken an emetic which was 
 just about to operate ; and after a short pause she proceeded : 
 
Master william ahtten. 11 
 
 "Well. I liopo it is a' mistake ; but it came to me from au eye 
 witness. Vou knnw i don't send mi/ chililren to Mr. ^[arkham ; be- 
 cause I don't choose to have my children cut and slashed about like gal- 
 ley-slaves, for every little childish error they commit — breaking down 
 their spirit, and teaching them sneaking and lying, and everything 
 that's low and mean. Mr. Toper never whips j and I don't see but 
 that mj cliihh-en get along under him as well as other people's chil- 
 dren." (Here Mrs. M. covered her face with her handkerchief, 
 either to hide her grief, or a smile which grief could not extinguish, 
 or blushes of conscience; for she had warned her son against ever 
 associating with the (Uibs.) " But you know how strict Mrs. Nokes 
 is with her children ; one of them would as soon put his head in the 
 lire as tell a lie — specially before her. Well, Thomas told mc, right 
 in her presence, that Mnrkham whipt William till he drew the blood 
 from him !'' 
 
 " Mercy on me I" groaned Mrs. ?Jitten, '* why didn't William tell 
 me of it!" 
 
 " 01}(, that is easily accounted for. My (Icorgo WashiugtoH. 
 Alexander Augustus says that John Brown told him, that ' if any- 
 body went to carrying tales out of IVIr, 3Iarkham's school, he'd 
 make'em dance _/»ta.' Poor William dare not tell of it. John said, 
 moreover, that Markham dragged liim from his seat the first day that 
 he went to school, and would have whipt him then, if he had been 
 in school a little longer." 
 
 " I fear," said Mrs. Mitten with streaming eyes, " that I offended 
 Mr. ]Markham when I placed William under him, by telling him 
 that William was easy to hod but hard to drive. He immediately 
 showed some reluctance at receiving him. But 1 only meant to ap- 
 prise him of the child's disposition. Poor child, with all his talents, 
 T fear he is doomed to had luck." 
 
 " Oh, no, madam ; 1 can explain the matter better thaji that, 
 George Markham was given up on all hands to be the smartest boy 
 in school. Now everybody knew what a prodigy William was; and 
 old' Markham knew that as soon as William entered the school, his 
 hj loved darlinrj, jtrecions (icorrje, would have to come down a notch. 
 All the boys say thijt William is smarter than George, •mi yet that 
 old Markham is always pecking at him. Who can't see the reason?" 
 Just at this moment William made his appenrancc with a bright 
 and joyous face; and holding up a most beautiful edition of Sanford 
 and Merton. '• See, ma," said he, " wlmt ]\Ir. Markham gave me 
 to-day for keeping head of George three days. And he says if I'll 
 
12 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 keep head of him eight days more, he'll give me a book worth twice 
 as much, and I mean to do it too." 
 
 " What hypocrisy !" exclaimed Mrs. Glib. " He's got wind 
 of it I" 
 
 " William/' said his mother, " did Mr. Markham whip yon last 
 Friday ?'' In an instant his countenance fell, and his eyes filled. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," whispered William. " But I don't think- he will 
 whip me again, for I mean to be a good boy." 
 
 "Poor, blessed, little innocent angel-Iamb!" sighed forth Mrs. G. 
 with honest sympathy. 
 
 " And haven't you always been a good boy, my son ?" 
 
 " Ye-e-s m'm." 
 ' " Then what did he whip you for ?" 
 
 " He said I told a lie, and wouldn't get my lesson !'' 
 
 " Oh, shocking, shockiDg — worse and worse !" vociferated Mrs. 
 Glib. " I'd stake my salvation on it, that child never told an un- 
 truth in all his life." 
 
 It was very unlucky for William, that 3Irs. G. made this remark ; 
 and still more unlucky that his mother did not' suspend her examina- 
 tion here, until Mrs. G. retired. 
 
 '• William, it would break my heart to discover that you had told a 
 lie ; but if you have told one, confess it, my child, to your mother!" 
 
 William paused and pondered, as well he might ; for having Mrs. 
 Glib's salvation and his mother's heart in one eye, and Mr. Mark- 
 ham's awful lie-physic in the other, he was in a most perplexing di- 
 lemma. 
 
 •' Don't you see, 3Irs. Mitten, that the child is actually afraid to 
 deny that he told a lie ? He knows that if it gets to Markham's 
 ears that he denied it, he'd beat hiiu to death. Didn't he whip yott 
 very severely, William ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "Where did he whip you?" 
 
 " On the calf of my legs." 
 
 •' Well, now, do let us examine them ! I lay the marks of the 
 whip are upon them to this day." 
 
 William's pants were rolled up, and at the first glance, his legs 
 seemed as white- and as spotless as pure alabaster. But a glance did 
 Bot satisfy Mrs. Glib. She was confident that William had received 
 "jorwOT," and that marks of it might yet be found. Accordingly, 
 she put on her specs and squatted down to a close examination of 
 William's legs, beginning at the left." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 13 
 
 " Look here, Mrs. Mitten," said she, after a short search, " isn't 
 this the mark of a whip ?" 
 
 "N-no," said Mrs. M. carelessly, '* I believe it's nothing but a 
 Tein." 
 
 " It's no vein, my word for it ; it's too straight for a vein. I'm 
 told that whip-marks, just before they disappear, can hardly be dis- 
 tinguished from veins." • 
 
 Proceeding from the left leg to the right, she examined for some time 
 with no better success. At length, however, on the right side of the 
 limb, she found the pjilpable marks of *' Jorum." For reasons that 
 need not be given, I hold myself perfectly competent to explain this 
 matter with unquestionable accuracy. Jorum is always administered 
 with a scarificator ; and in receiving it, it is almost impossible for the 
 patient to keep his legs still. The consequence sometimes is, that 
 the scarificator, which is made and intended to act simultaneously 
 and equally upon both limbs hardly scratches one, while it spends all 
 its force (double force) upon the other. William had obviously 
 '•' danced juba " under the operation, and in three of his movements 
 he had so distracted the instrument, that the end of it pressed much 
 harder upon the flesh in these places thain the operator intendea, and 
 of course it left its most permanent mark where it pressed hardest. 
 Xor is it true, as Mrs. Glib was informed, that its mark retire in like- 
 ness to a vein, but with a greenish, straw-color, as the case before her 
 proved. 
 
 Mrs. Glib had no sooner discovered these marks, than she went 
 through divers evolutions of horror, better suited to the Inquisition 
 than to'this occasion. At length she became composed enough to 
 speak. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Mitten, see what your dear lovely, brilliant boy has 
 suffered. Think of when it was done !" 
 
 Mrs. Mitten looked and burst into tears afresh. Just at this point 
 her daughters made their appearance, and the matter being explained 
 to them they burst into tears ; and William seeing his mother and 
 sisters weeping, he burst into tears. In the midst of this affecting 
 Bceno, David Thompson, Mrs. Mitten's brother, made his appearance, 
 and he didn't burst into tears. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter — what's to pay ?" enquired he, with no 
 little alarm. 
 
 The ladies all answered at once, with different degrees of exagger- 
 ation, but all to the same point, namely, that Markham had beaten 
 William most unmercifully. 
 
14: MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 "Why-j nothing seems to be the matter with him that I can see."- 
 
 "Look at his legs !" 
 
 " Well, I see nothing the matter with his legs.'^ 
 
 '' Look at his right leg." 
 
 "Well, I see nothing the matter with his right leg," 
 
 " Look on the right side of his right leg." 
 
 "Well,! see nothing on the right side of the right leg." 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Thompson," said Mrs. Glib — " bend down a little 
 — do you see these marks ?" 
 
 " Psh-e-e-e-t! Why surely you have all run crazy ! Is it possible 
 you're making all this fuss over these three little specks?" 
 
 " Those specks as you call them, brother, are the remains of what 
 was put on my child's tender flesh /oiir days ago." 
 
 " And have you all just made up your minds to cry about it I" 
 
 " We did ndt know of it, brother David, before." 
 
 " Why, didn't William tell you of it V 
 
 -' No, poor child, he hardly dare talk about it now. He is com- 
 pletely cowed. Since he went to school he seems to have been 
 buried; nobody notices or *eaks of the child any more than if he 
 were dead." 
 
 " Yes, there it is I you have been feasting upon his praises so 
 long, that you cannot live without them. What did Markham whip 
 him for?" 
 
 " The charge was, telling a lie, and neglecting his lessons." 
 
 " Well, are you sure he did not tell a lie V 
 
 " Oh, brother, how can you ask such a question right before the 
 child's face ! 'Yes, I'm just as sure of it as I can be of anything. 
 I never detected William in a lie in all my life." 
 
 " No, nor you never will, the way you're going on, if he told a 
 thousand. Now, if Markham whipt him for lying, I vouch for it he 
 told a lie, and Markham knew it ; for he never moves without seeing 
 his way clear." 
 
 " I think he has a prejudice against William, and I think I 
 know the reason of it." 
 
 " Prejudice 1 He's incapable of prejudice against anvbody, much 
 less against little silly childrenf I'll go over and see him and learn 
 the whole truth of the matter." 
 
 ",No, you needn't trouble yourself, brother, I shall not send 
 William to school to him any longer." 
 
 " Why, Anna, you surely are not going to take your child from 
 
MASTER WILLIAM IMITTEX. 15 
 
 school without hearing from Mr. 3Iarkham the particulars of this 
 matter ?" 
 
 " I don't want any particulars, more than my own eyes have seen. 
 Suppose the child actually did tell a lie, (which nobody who knows 
 him will^believe) it wouldn't justify Mr. Markham in beating him to 
 death." 
 
 '* Beating him to death I He's certainly a very natural looking 
 . corpse I And when you take him from school, what are you going 
 to do with him V . 
 
 " I'd rather send' him to Mr. Toper than have him cut and slashed 
 to pieces by Markham." 
 
 " Toper I what that drunken booby who hardly knows B from 
 bull's foot."' 
 
 " Good morning, ladies !" said Mrs. Glib — " Good morning, 
 Captain Thompson." < 
 
 " Why, brother I How could you talk so of Mr, Toper ? Don't 
 you know that Mrs. Glib sends her children to him y She'll go 
 right off and tell him what you said." 
 
 "Xo, 1 don't know, nor don't care where she sends them. All I 
 know about them is, that Toper is a drunken fool, and that her chil- 
 dren are perfect nuisances to the town, and that if you mean to send 
 your child to the devil, Toper is the very man to carry him for you. 
 Mrs. Glib may tell him all this too, if she chooses; and then if he 
 opens his mouth to me about the matter, I'll kick him out of the 
 town, as a public charity." 
 
 "■ I only said I had ratli-er send my child to Mr. Toper than have 
 him beaten so. I think I shall employ a private tutor." 
 
 " And pay ten times as much as is needful for your child's instruc- 
 tion ; and then have him not half as well taught, as he will be, by 
 Markham I Anna, I beseech, you, I implore you for your child's 
 sake, don't act at all in this matter under your present feelings. 
 Ijct the mafter rest until I can see Markham and learn the whole 
 history of it. 1 know more of boys than you do. They do many 
 things at school that they never do at home, for the plain reason 
 that they are under many temptations at school which they are not 
 under at home. You are probably now at the turning point of 
 your child's destiny, and a false step here may ruin him forever." 
 
 Strange to tell, William listened to his uncle with a kind of ap- 
 proving amazement, and as soon as he had conclud'ed, said : 
 
 " Ma, I'm willing to go back to Mr, Markham now ; I a'nt afraid 
 of him ; I don't think he'll ever whip mo again." 
 
16 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " That's a brave boy," said the Captain. " Every word in the 
 sentence is worth a guinea. No good boy fears Mr. Markham." 
 
 " Ah, poor child !" said Mrs. Mitten — " he knows little of the 
 world's duplicity. He little dreams of the undercurrent that is at 
 work against him." 
 
 " What undercurrent ? Is it possible, Anna, that after nine years 
 acquaintance with Markham, you can suspect him of duplicity and 
 secret hostility to such a child as that — your child — my nephew 1" 
 
 "Mr. Markham's not perfectionf if what I've heard of him is 
 true," said Miss Jane. 
 
 " No," said Miss Ann, " and if I was ma, I'd die before I'd send 
 brother William back to him to be beaten like a dog !" 
 
 " And if I was ma, I'd learn you to hold your tongues till your 
 counsel was asked for." 
 
 " Oh, do, brother, let the girls express their opinions. I should 
 suppose that one might have an ojnnion, of even Mr. Markham, 
 without having their heads snapt ofF." 
 
 " Well, Anna, I see your mind is made up to take William from 
 Mr. Markham's school." 
 
 " Yes, I'm resolved upon it." 
 
 " And without one word of explanation from Mr. Markham !" » 
 
 " Yes ; I want none of his explanations." 
 
 " Ma,'' said William, " let me go back to the end of the quarter." 
 
 " Bravo, Bill ! Go back, my son — be a a good boy, and learn 
 your book, and you'll be a noble fellow by and by." 
 
 " Brother David, do you think it right to encourage a poor little 
 ignorant child to run counter to his mother's wishes ?" 
 
 " No, Anna ; but I supposed that the wishes of the child in whom 
 you are so much wrapt up, might save you from rash resolutions con- 
 cerning him." 
 
 " Well, it is not necessary to debate the matter further, I vow he 
 never shall go back to Mr. Markham's school, and that is the long 
 and short of it." 
 
 Captain Thompson wheeled off and left the house as if to get 
 something of importance that he had left in a dangerous place. In 
 about a half hour he returned : 
 
 " Well," said he, " I have seen Markham, and heard the whole 
 matter explained " — and he gave it from first to last, just as it 
 occurred. Still Mrs. Mitten adhered to her resolution. He argued, 
 he entreated, he implored, he forewarned, he remonstrated, he used 
 every means that he could think of to change her mind, but to no 
 
MASTKB WILLIAM MITTEN. 17 
 
 purpose. The truth is, Mrs. Mitten would not place her son where 
 he was liable to be whipt. Her brother left in a storm. I have 
 been thus particular in giving this part of William's history, because 
 it proved in the end, as the sequol will show, to be remarkably 
 unhic/cy, and fruitful of wonderful consequences. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The reader will remember that we left Mrs, 3Iitteu resolved to 
 remove Master William from Mr. Markham's school. Her resolu- 
 tion was carried into effect; and she forthwith began to look out for 
 a private teacher for her son. But unluchUi/ no such teacher was 
 just then to be found; she was constrained, therefore, to advertise 
 for one ; and though she placed her advertisement in three Gazettes, 
 of pretty general circulation, three months Tolled away before any 
 one proffered his services to Master William. In the meantime our 
 little hero was a gentleman at large; and having formed many 
 acquaintances at school, common courtesy required that he should 
 give them as much of his attention as he could. Accordingly he 
 was with them at every intermission of their studies, and took great 
 pleasure in attending the evening parties of such as were smart 
 enough to do without evening study. These soon became so frequent 
 that William entirely neglected his mother's parties for them ; by 
 means whereof his mother and her friends lost the entertainment 
 which he used to afford them upon such occasions. She often de- 
 manded of him explanations of his discourtesy J;o his old admirers, 
 which he promptly gave to her entire satisfaction. Sometimes he 
 was at the Juvenile Debating Society ; at others he was at a Prayer 
 Meeting; at one time he " went to hear Parson Deleth's Lecture."' 
 (On the importance of the Oriental Languages to the student of 
 Theology.) At another he went to hear the Euterpean band ; 
 and at all other times he was taking tea with good boys, or engaged 
 in some laudable employment. As the young Glibs had rather more 
 leisure than any other boys in town, and as their mother had 
 charged them to cultivate a close acquaintance with Master William, 
 they were frequently thrown together. At first William was rather 
 shy of those acquaintances ; but as they forced themselves into his 
 company, pleading their mother's order for so doing, ]je could not 
 well refuse to take them under his moral training. Accordingly 
 they soon became very intimate ; and William was pleased to find 
 ttiat they were by no means us bad boys as his mother took them to 
 
18 MASTER WILLiXM MITTEN. 
 
 be. Withal he soon discovered that they were possessed of a vast 
 fund of information, which they communicated to him freely ; first 
 to his astonishment, and afterwards to his delight. They knew who 
 had the best apples, peaches, plums, cherries and melons in the town 
 and neighborhood — what gardens contained the most strawberries, 
 raspberries, grapes, figs and pomegranates — who had the earliest 
 and latest fruits — what time bad dogs were turned loose at night — 
 where hens, guinea-chickens, ducks and turkeys, were in the habit 
 of laying. They were masters of all culinary matters, except the 
 higher branches of cookery. They were abolitionists of the most 
 generous stamp ; disdaining the .distinctions of color, and holding- 
 out the most liberal encouragements to slave industry, by promising 
 the most liberal prices for such little dainties and curiosities as the 
 poor slave might have to dispose of. Nor were these young gentle- 
 men without persoui'l accomplishments, corresponding with their 
 vast^mental endowments. They were the most expert climbers of 
 trees and fences in the country. They were good riders and better 
 runners. Though one of them was two months, another fifteen and 
 another thirty-seven months older than "William, they could slip 
 through gaps that he feared to attempt. They could heel a game- 
 cock, whet a jack-knife, and shoot a pistol, with unrivalled skill — 
 their age considered. They could recognize people in the dark 
 with, the eye of an owl ; and run half-bent in gutters and ditches, 
 faster than William could, on a plain. They could perform many 
 amusing and ingenious tricks with cards ; and smoke segars, ohew 
 tobacco and drink cardial, apple-toddy, egg-nog and the like, with 
 m'arvelous grace and impunity. 
 
 At the end of three or four weeks from the time that William left 
 school, Mr. Markham's examination came off, and most of the town 
 attended it. The visitors were, as usual, liberal in their praises of 
 such as did well ; and these, William, who was present, heard with 
 painful emotions. They were praises which made his tea-party-com- 
 pliments seem insignificant. Here was competition, and not one was 
 praised, of whom he did not know himself to be decidedly the 
 superior. The examination closed with an allotment of prizes to the 
 best in the several classes, by judges appointed for that purpose. 
 William saw one and another distributed with increasing dejection 
 and self-reproach. At length George Markham was called out on the 
 stage, and Judge Dawson advancing to him with a large silver medal, 
 suspended by a crimson ribbon with tasteful decorations, observed : 
 "Master George, in the course of the examination you have laborad 
 
MASTER WILLIA]^ MITTEN. 19 
 
 under some disadvantages ; for the judges, from an apprehension that 
 their high respect for your teacher, might be unconsciously trans- 
 ferred to his son, have been more vigilant of inaccuracres in you 
 than ill any of your school mates. So well have you acquitted your- 
 self, however, that you have entirely relieved us from all apprehension 
 of doing you injustice on either hand, and we presume there will not 
 be a dissenting voice in this large and respectable assembly, to our 
 judgment, which awards to you the iirst honor in your class ; in tokeii 
 of which we present you this beautiful medal. Remember," con- 
 tinued Judge Dawson, as ho placed the loop of the ribbon over the 
 head of blaster George, and dropt the medal on his breast — " remem- 
 ber as often as you look upon that medal, that on the day you re- 
 ceived it, you raised the highest expectations of your future distinc- 
 tion, and resolved never to disappoint them." As the judge con- 
 cluded, the hou.se thundered with applause. William dropt his head 
 and wept bitterly j for he felt that all this would have been his, had 
 he remained at school. 
 
 In the afternoon the usual exhibition came off. "We mav not 
 dwell upon the performances of each of the students respectively. 
 For reasons which will be hereafter observed, we notice but two. 
 
 The fourth speaker called out was Master John Brown ! John 
 stept out so completely metamorphosed, that William himself hardly 
 knew him. His hair was combed down straight and slick. The 
 lard-gourd had obviously been laid under contributions for it. His 
 feet were disguised under shoes and stockings. His suit was all new 
 and of course all of one color. His mother had ti-icd herself upon 
 it from the spinning of the first thread, to the fitting of it on. But 
 nature had decreed that John sliould be a funny lookin"- fellow in 
 spite of dress ; and as he stept to the centre of the stage, as if labor- 
 ing under a slight founder, (for shoes manifestly pestered him) an 
 involuntary smile diffused itself over every countenance. He made 
 his bow, and in a clear, distinct audible voice he began : 
 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen : You will not be surprised that I should 
 have selected as my theme for your entertainment this afternoon the 
 incalculable advantages of j^^^^'sottal hcauty." 
 
 Here it seemed that the liouse would be knocked to pieces. * Men 
 women and children laughed and thumped immoderately ; and even 
 Mr. Markham could not preserve his usual gravity. Mrs. Brown 
 plainly .'•howcd that her trouble in rigging out John was repaid by 
 the very first sentence. With almost every other, the same scene 
 was renewed; until at length all respect for order seemed to be for- 
 
20 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 gotten ; and such commendations as these might be heard in under- 
 tones all over the house : Well done, flat-head ! Hurra short-neck ! 
 Bravo pug-nose ! I tell you stiff-leg is &ome ! Give me homespun 
 at last. John concluded, and had it been allowable, he, doubtless, 
 would have been encored at least three times. He owed most of his 
 credit to the patient and careful drilling of his teacher, but there 
 were few in the school who could have improved good drilling as 
 well as John did. 
 
 Next to John's speech, the most amusing thing in the exhibition 
 was a dialogue between George Markham and David Thompson, 
 which elicited great applause. At the conclusion of the exercises, 
 honors were a second time distributed, and young Markham was 
 again complimented with a prize. Brown got one, of course, which 
 was rendered doubly complimentary, by another peal of applause as 
 he received it. 
 
 All this was slow murder to William Mitten, Nor did his tortures 
 end here. Seeing his uncle and Mr. Markham in conversation as 
 the company retired, he flattered himself that they were negotiating 
 for his 1-eturn to school, and he drew near to them unobserved by 
 either, and overheard this conversation : 
 
 " That little fellow Brown is an odd looking fish, Mr. Markham, 
 but there's somQ' gumption in him after all." 
 
 " He's rough material to polish, but he has some talent ; and if he 
 can be made to study, he may be a man of worth yet." 
 
 " I congratulate you on the very handsome manner in which your 
 son acquitted himself in everything." 
 
 " He may thaak Mrs. Mitten for his honors of to-day, for had she 
 suffered her son to remain at school, George would not have touched 
 a single honor. When William studied (and he had begun to study 
 well) he was vastly superior to George in everything. The dialogue 
 was written on purpose to show off his wonderful dramatic talent. 
 George's part was designed for him, and your son's for George ; and 
 I'll venture to say, that I can take William and read over the part to 
 him but once, and he will perform it decidedly better than George 
 did. He spoke before me but three or four times w'hile he was with 
 me. The first time, I read over his piece to him after he had re- 
 peated it, and made him deliver it again ; and I was amazed to see 
 how exactly he followed my reading in every respect. Take him 
 altogether, I think he is decidedly the smartest boy I ever had in my 
 school." Here the conversation was interrupted by the congratula* 
 tions of several other gentlemen. 
 
MASTHK WILLIAM MITTEN. 21 
 
 William went home in tortures, and hardly slept a wink that night. 
 He would have given the world for the honors and praises which 
 George Markham had received that day ; and he would have been 
 willing to have changed persons with John Brown, for the trophies 
 which John had won. 
 
 The nest morning he recounted to his mother all the events of the 
 day, and particularly the conversation which he had heard between 
 his uncle and Mr. Markham. She was now stung nearly, or quite 
 as deeply as her son. But what could she do ? Her vow was out 
 and it must be kept. 
 
 " Well, my child," said she despondingly, " all this only goes to 
 show that you are born to ill-luck. But I hope it is all for the best. 
 Those who are unlucky in youth are apt to be lucky in old age, it is 
 said — and I hope it will be so with you." 
 
 " Ma, when you get yowr private teacher will he have any exhi- 
 bitions?" 
 
 " No, my son, he will have no scholar but you." 
 *' Then I don't want to go to a private teacher." 
 " But remember my child, that as he will have but 3'ou one to at- 
 tend to, he can teach you a great deal better, and' bring you on a 
 great deal faster than Mr. Markham could, who has so many in 
 charge. And study well, and you will soon enter college, where 
 you will have an opportunity of showing off your talents not simply 
 to a village, but to a whole State !" 
 
 '' And how long will it be before I can go to college?" • 
 
 " With your gifts, and a private teacher, I have no doubt you will 
 be prepared to enter college in four years at the outside." 
 *' Why, Ma, I'll be dead before four years !" 
 "Oh, I hope not; they will roll round before you are aware 
 of it." 
 
 As the private teacher had not yet been found, William had no- 
 thing to do for the present, and he resumed his attention to public 
 and devotional exercises, in fellowship with the young Glibs, and 
 others of their stamp. 
 
 A few days after this Parson Turner was announced as wishing to 
 have a few minutes private conversation with Mrs. Mitten. lie was 
 ushered into the parlor ; and Mrs, Mitten soon followed him. 
 
 « Mrs. Mitten," said the Parson, " I have called on you to beg of 
 
 you to keep your son at home on Wednesday nights. He and the 
 
 Glibs come to the church where we hold our prayer meetings, and 
 
 sometimes at the door, and sometimes in the gallery, keep up such a 
 
 c 
 
22 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEF. 
 
 laughing, bleating and groaning, that it is next to impossible for us 
 to proceed with our devotions." 
 
 " Why, Parson Turner, you must be mistaken ! I have always 
 taught my child to treat religious services with the most profound 
 respect ; and for reasons that need not be ]nentioned, I am confi- 
 dent that he is hardly acquainted with the Glibs." 
 
 " No, madam, there is no mistake about it. We all know him 
 very well." 
 
 "Well, Parson Turner, T will enquire into the matter, and, if I 
 find it so, I will see to it that my son disturbs you no ifiore." 
 
 " Whether you find it so or not, I assure you madam it is so." 
 So saying he took his leave. He hud not been gone long when 
 William came in. 
 
 '"William," said his mother, do you associate with' the Glibs?" 
 
 "They sometimes come to where I amy..and then I can't get rid of 
 them ; but I don't go where they" arc." 
 
 " Well, now, I strictly forbid you from' associating with those 
 boys. They are very bad boys and unfit company for you. Parson 
 Turner says you go with them to the church, and behave very rudely 
 during prayer meeting, is that so, William V , 
 
 " 'Twasn't me, Ma, it was the Glib-boys." 
 
 " How came you there with the Glib-boys, at all ?" 
 
 " I said I was going to th§ prayer meeting and they followed me."^ 
 
 " Well, my son, I'm very glad to learn that you didn't misbe- 
 have at the meeting. Brought up as piously as you have been, I 
 didn't think it possible that you. could treat religious services with 
 contempt. W^hen you go to such meetings, (which I am glad to 
 find you disposed to do) take your seat near the leader of them, and 
 bad boys will not follow you there. Never have anything to do with 
 boys that can trifle with sacred things. It's the worst sign in the 
 world." 
 
 Mr. Turner went from Mrs. Mitten's to Mrs. Glib's, and repeated 
 bis story. 
 
 Mrs. Glib received him with a careless chuckle, and said to him : 
 " Oh, Mr. Turner, I wouldn't mind little thoughtless boys ; they will 
 have their fun ; but they'll quit "these things when they grow older. 
 Pm very cautions against reproving my children for little childish 
 freaks in church, lest I should excite in them a dangerous and lasting 
 prejudice against religion. 
 
 Mr. Turner, after sitting petrified for about a half minute, rose 
 and abruptly left the house. " 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITKX. 23 
 
 About noon on the following Thursday, Jlrs. Glib came over to 
 Mr^. Mitten's, in a great flurry. " Oh," exclaimed she, as she 
 entered the house, " do you know, Mrs. Mitten, there's a warrant out 
 against all our children ! T got wiild of it and hid my children; but 
 I'm told they've got William" — 
 
 "A warrant!" shrieked Mrs. M. "In mercj^'s name tell me 
 what has my child been doing to have a warrant out against him?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing of any consequence — don't be alarmed — nothing but 
 disturbing a prayer-n.eeting. Sqnirc Crumb says there's no law for 
 it; and if there wap, throwing [Atones at a house and setting oflf 
 squibs at the door would not be against the law ; and if he was em- 
 ployed, he'd blow it all up, .But Judge Dawson says there is a law 
 against disturbing worshipping i>sseniblics. I was afraid of this, 
 when Turner went sbout complaining of the boys for their little 
 sports. You know such things always make' thoin mad and worse 
 than ever." 
 
 i\Irs. jMitten was nearly distractod ; for her head was filled with 
 jails, and punishment, and eternal disgrace, which she .supposed the 
 invariable accompaniments of warrants. ITer bro.ther David was sent 
 for, post-hrfsto ; and he was soon at Mr, Justice Easy's office, where 
 William was under arrest.* A short interview between him and 
 I*arson Turner settled the matter amicably. The latter told him all 
 that had transpired and said he .suw no other way of stopping these 
 hopeful youths ; but that if Mr. Thompson would pledge himself 
 that they woulfl disturb the meetings no more, he would stop the 
 prosecution. The pledge was given, and the matter was settled. — 
 This done, Mr. Thompson proceeded with William to his sister's, 
 where he found the two mothers. 
 
 '* Where are your children, madam y" said Thompson sternly to 
 Mrs. Glib. 
 
 " Why, they — I expect they are — that is, I think likely — which 
 one of them ?" 
 
 '"■ Why, all of them, madam." 
 
 " Oh, I have not seen cue of them since quite early this morning. 
 What did you want with them, (Captain Thompson ?" 
 
 " / wished to know from their own lips whether, if T get them out 
 of this scrape, they'll let ptoplc pray in peace hereafter." 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes, yes— I'll engage for them; and I will consider my- 
 self undor everlasting obligationa to you Captain, if you'll got them 
 out." 
 
 " I must have the pledge from their own lips." 
 
•24 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " Well, I'll run over home and see if they are not there. I've 
 no doubt they are, for they always come home about this hour — what 
 o'clopk is it '/" 
 
 " Half after twelve." 
 
 " Oh, if it's as late as that, I'm sure I shall find them at home. 
 Stay a minute, Captain, and I'll run over and bring them." 
 
 She soon returned with her three boys, who were placed with 
 William before the Captain. 
 
 "Do you know, young gentlemen," said ho with great solemnity, 
 " that you have violated the laws of your country? That a warrant 
 has been issued against you, to vindicate the offended majesty of the 
 people's laws ?" (Here the ladies looked much alarmed.) " That, 
 unless somebody will befriend you, your mothers ai'e liable to be 
 mulct in pounds of money ; and that you are liable to be cast in 
 prison for ten long days and nights, with nothing to eat but bread 
 and water, and nothing to sleep on but the hard floor and a few 
 blankets ? Then be dragged to a court of justice, before the eyes of 
 the whole world, and th3re to be tried, by a jury of twelve men duly 
 empanelled to pass between you and your injured, insulted country ? 
 Then, when convicted, (as you are certain to be,) that you are to be 
 turned over to Judge Dawson, (who always respects religion, and 
 whose wife is a most excellent member cf the church,) to be dealt 
 with according to the law in such case made and provided ? And 
 do you furthermore know, that all four of you are posting to the 
 devil just as fast as he would have you go? Do you know all this? 
 my hopeful young friends ?" . 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the boys. 
 
 "Very well. Now, I am disposed to befriend you all; but I de- 
 sire to know what I am to expect from you, if I do; for I don't wish 
 to "■et myself into any more trouble on your account. If I can be 
 certain that you will never get into any more such scrapes, I'll hush 
 up all this matter, as I know I can ; but I must have a promise from 
 all of you that, if I do, I shall have no more such matters to hush 
 up. As for Bill there, I'll manage him myself: and if he goes to 
 disturbing religions meetings again, after the trouble he has given 
 me and after I have snatched him from the clutches of the law, I'll 
 give him the timber myself, harder than Markham did, mother or 
 no mother, objection or no objection." 
 
 "■ In such case, brother David, I think you would be perfectly 
 justifiable, after you have stood his security and" — 
 
 <' Certainly, certainly," said Mrs. Glib ; " and in such case, I 
 
• MASTER WU.LIAM MITTEK". 25 
 
 would not think of opening my moutb, if he should whip my chil- 
 dren too." 
 
 " Well, will your children make the promise, or will they prefer 
 going to jail T 
 
 " Why, Captain, I would not own them if they refused. They 
 are too high minded and honorable to refuse so great a favor upon 
 such easy terms." 
 
 " Very well. George Washington Alexander Avgustus Glib : 
 Do you promise me here, in the presence of your mother and Mrs. 
 Mitten, that if I stop this prosecution, so that it shall not harm you 
 or your mother, or your brothers, that you will never disturb another 
 religious meeting while you live, either by mouth, foot or hand, 
 inside or outside of the house ; and that you will show no rudeness, 
 in any form or way, to Parjon Turner, at any time or in any place? 
 
 Do you?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Thomas Jefferson Nnpolcyjn Bonaparte Glib : Do you make the 
 same promise that your brother has just made ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Bciijarain Franklin J^idaski Laflri/rtie Glib : Do you make the 
 same promise ?" 
 
 '• Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, remain here five minutes, and if in that time I do not re- 
 turn, you may be certain that the matter is satisfactorily settled." 
 So saying he retired. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs, Mitten," said Mrs. Glib, '' what an excellent, excellent 
 man, that brother of yours is. I shall love him as long as I live." 
 
 " brother David has a good heart,' though he is sometimes rough 
 in his manner. Was ever child so unfortunate as mine ? It is an 
 old maxim, that one had better bo born lucky than rich, and I be- 
 lieve it. Brother David will probably settle the suit ; but who is to 
 wipe out the stain from my child's character?" 
 
 " Dear me, Mrs. Mitten, the thing will be forgotten in a week ! 
 Everybody knows that it was but a childish frolic, that nobody but 
 old Turner would have noticed ; and I shall* make it my business to 
 give him my mind upon it very freely, the first time I meet him. 
 7'w under no promise, if my children are." 
 
 "I cannot blame I'arson Turner, Mrs. Glib, and 1 hope you 
 will not." 
 
 The five, and even ten minutcq rolled away, and, jMr. Thompson 
 not returning, Mrs. Glib moved off with her sons, looking very little 
 like their name.'sakos. 
 
CHAPTER in. 
 
 Mrs. Mitten now determined to keep her son at borne of nights; 
 she therefore charged him, " upon pain of her sore displeasure/' not 
 to leave the house at night without her permission. William promised 
 obedience, of course; and like a good'boy, kept his promise for two 
 nights and a half, without ever asking leave of absence. On the 
 second night she seated him at the stand to read to her and his 
 sisters. He had proceeded about a quarter of an hour, when three 
 strange whistles Avere heard near the house. They were not noticed 
 by Mrs. M. as yet; but the Hrst had no sooaer bounded, than William 
 began to read horribly. 
 
 "Now, William," said his mother. "you'\^ got tired of reading 
 already; and you're trying how bad you can read, that I may make 
 you stop !" 
 
 "No, I declare I a'nt, ma." 
 
 "Well, what makes you blunder and halt and miscall words so ? 
 What does that incessant whisitling mean?" 
 
 "That's the way the boys whistle at school," said William. 
 
 " How do they do it ! for it sounds like blowing in large phials." 
 
 " They do it by blowing in their hands." 
 
 "What are they blowing about hers for? they never did it before. 
 Go out V/illiam, and beg them to. desist." 
 
 William obeyed promptly, and it seemed gladly. The whistling 
 ceased as soon as he went out ; and in a few minutes he returned. 
 
 " Who are they ?" enquired Mrs. Mitten. 
 
 " A parcel of school-boys," said William, ^' but they said they 
 wouldn't whistle about the house any move." He resumed his seat, 
 and read* pretty well until his mother excused him. 
 
 The next evening the whistling was renewed ; but at such a dis- 
 tance from the house, as to attract the attention of no one; unless, 
 perchance William from the events of the preceding night, was led 
 to notice it. 
 
 " Ma," said he " mayn't I go to the Juvenile Debating Society- 
 to-night ?" . 
 
 " Certainly, my son ; but come home as soon as the Society 
 adjourns." 
 
 He set out, but happening to fall in with Ben and Jeff Glib, by 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 27 
 
 the way, (so they were called for short) they proposed going by 
 Squire King's garden, and getting a few June apples. Ren said, 
 " that Lawyer King was a very clever man, and didn't care who took 
 his apples, if they didn't break his trees; and only took what they 
 wanted to eat." Jeft" said that he knew " that to be a fact ; for he 
 heard him tell William Strain, his wife's little brother, that very day, 
 to go in with his playmates, and eat as many as they wanted, but not 
 to break down his trees." 
 
 <'Well, if that's the case," said William, " 111 go; but I wouldn't 
 steal apples for anything in the world." 
 
 '< Neither would I," said Ben. l^aw, no ! Not for the world." 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing like stealing," .said JeiF. " Sposen you was to 
 lay down anything, and say you didn't care who took it, if they 
 didn't break it, and I was to come along at night, and take it, ana 
 not break it, would that he paling ?" 
 
 "No," said Ben, " it's no more stealing than picking up a chip," 
 
 William had attended the Juvenile Debating Society too long and 
 with too much profit, not to feel the full force of Master Glib's logic, 
 and consequently his scruples were immediately removed and the 
 boys proceeded to the garden. The fence was easily ascended, and 
 they were soon under the best apple tree. 
 
 " William," said Ben in a whisper, " this is a good place to learn 
 to climb. The limbs are low and I can push you up to them. When 
 you get in the tree, shake down the apples, and brother Jeff and I 
 will piok 'em up ; but don't sh;ike down more than we can eat; for 
 Mr. King wouldn't like that, and 1 should hate to do anything he 
 don't like. Don't shake hgrd. The best way is to get on a limb, 
 and hit a little stoiiip with your heel, and if they don't come stomp 
 a little harder." 
 
 Thus instructed, William, with Ben's help, ascended the tree. He 
 stampt limb after limb until he thought enough had fallen to satisfy 
 the company, and wiis about descending, when Jeff said, " Don't come 
 down yit — we an't got enough yit — I can eat a bosom full. Here, 
 go out upon this limb and fetch it a pretty hard stomp or two and 
 that'll do." 
 
 William went out on the limb as directed, and at the first stamp, 
 missing the limb, he fell, and broke his arm just above the elbow. 
 His pain was great, and his alarm was greater, but he bore them 
 with little complaint until he cleared the garden. He then broke 
 forth in heart-piercing groans, sobs, and lamentations ; but not loud 
 enough to disturb any of the villagers ; " Oh, my arm does hurt me 
 
28 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 SO bad ! Only see how it swings about ! Oh, my poor dear mother; 
 it will kill her. My Heavenly Father, forgive me this one time, and 
 1 never viH do the like again ! I don't want you two boys to go 
 home with me. If you please don't go home with me." 
 
 His cries announced his coming before he reached home ; for they 
 became louder as he approached his mother's door. His sisters flew 
 to him, and his mother rose to follow them ; but her strength failed 
 her and she fell back in her chair. They could not learn the cause 
 of his wailing until he entered the house ; when advancing to his 
 mother, he sobbed out, " Oh, my dear mother, look at my arm !" 
 
 " What, is it broke ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I can't move it." 
 
 " Oh, my God, was ever a child doomed to such misfortunes ! 
 Ann send for the Doctor immediately — I have not strength to move. 
 Send for Doctor Hull and Doctor Barden both." 
 
 The doctors came, and set the arm. 
 
 Of course the enquiry was from all, how the accident happened. 
 
 " I was going to the Society," said William, "and was standing 
 by a tree, and one boy said he'd learn me to climb, and he pushed 
 me up the tree, and I fell down and broke my arm." 
 
 We will not detain the reader with the many questions which this 
 explanation provoked, and the answers to them which William gave. 
 Suffice it to say that Doctor Hull fetched a little grunt of equivocal 
 signification, and took a chew of tobacco upon it, with as little in- 
 terest in it as if he had set a thousand arms broken in this way ; but 
 Doctor Barden was as particular in his enquiries into the case, as 
 though he meant to report it to the Philadelphia Medical Journal. 
 
 The next morning Squire King came over to enquire *' how poor 
 little William was." He expressed, and no doubt felt, tender sym- 
 pathies for the boy ; but any one to have marked his eye, would have 
 supposed that his sympathies gathered about William's feet rather 
 than his arm. 
 
 This might be accounted for without discredit to the Squire's 
 heart ; for being a great hunter, he had contracted a habit of ex- 
 amining tracks, and track-makers, which beset him at times, and 
 sometimes upon improper occasions, as in this instance. 
 
 '' William," said the Squire with a small dash of waggishness in 
 his tone and countenance which Bill seemed to think very ill-timed; 
 " was it a smooth-barked tree, or a rough-barked tree ?" 
 *' I forgot ]" drawled out Bill a little crustily. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM .MITTEN. 29 
 
 " Did you get up to the limbs before you fell, or just fall from 
 the body ?" 
 
 "I got to the limbs—" 
 
 " Did you take off yourHhoes V 
 
 '-'No." 
 
 " Aye, that's the way the accident happened. You wont up with 
 your shoes on. You should always take off your shoes when you 
 climb. The Glib-boys, who are the best climbers I know, alwayg 
 take off their shoes and stockings both. I hope, my son, you will 
 soon be well. Mrs. Mitten, if there's anything that I have that can 
 minister to William's comfort, it is at your service. I have some 
 very fine June apples, and I will send him over some; little boyis 
 commonly like such things." 
 
 " Thank you — thank you kindly, Mr. King. I know he will prize 
 them very highly— William have you no thanks to give Mr. King, 
 for his kindness ?" Mr. King retired. 
 
 "William," said his motbev, it seemed to me you were a little 
 lude to Mr. King." 
 
 • I know him," said Bill sulkily. 
 
 •Well, ypu know a most excellent, kind-hearted man." 
 
 " He's always poking his fun at people." 
 
 "I'm sure tliere was nothing like fun in what he said to you. It 
 wa^ all tenderness and kindness." 
 
 William's arm kept him, for the most part confined to the house 
 lor five WGek.s or more; during which time he was quite lucky ; for 
 nothing happened to disturb his, or his mother's peace. He had 
 been so long kept from the Juvenile Debating Society that he had 
 become very anxious to attend it; and his mother's consent being 
 obtained, he departed once more for the arena of youthful polemics. 
 
 He did not return until the family retired to rest; and in passing 
 to his room he made such a noise among the chairs, as to wake up 
 his mother. 
 
 "Isthat you William ?" said she. 
 
 •Yes." 
 
 ' I.« that the way you answer your mother?" 
 
 • ^V'llo put all these chairs in the entry ?" 
 
 " There are no more there, than are always there." 
 "It's a lie." 
 
 • Oh heavens, my child is deranged ! 3Iy child ! my child ! That 
 arm, that arm I" . 
 
 Mrs. Mitten sprung from her bed, uud before she even lighted a 
 
30 MASTER WILLIAM MHTEN". 
 
 oandle dispatched a serTant to Do«tor Hull with the request that he 
 hurry over immediately ; for that her son was out of his senses. She 
 had hardly got a light and a loose-gown thrown over her shoulders, 
 before the Doctor was .-it the door. They met in the entry, just as 
 William had come the fourth time to a chair which had been 
 heading him ever since he entered the house. Pie seized it (for it 
 had naturally enough exhausted his patieuce) and slung it 'with all 
 his might as far as he could send it. 
 
 " Oh Doctor !" exclaimed Mrs. Mitten in the deepest agony of 
 mind, ''can you do anything for my poor unfortunate boy !" 
 
 ' " Oh yes ma'am — yes ma'am. Don't be alarmed. I pledge my- 
 self to have him sound and well before nine o'clock to-moi'row 
 morning." 
 
 " Oh Doctor how c;m you speak so confidently without even feeling 
 the child's pulse." 
 
 Just here, William having got hold of a s:nall table that stood in 
 the entry, and which he probably mistook for a wash-basin, poured 
 out upon it a villainous compound, of heterogeneous elements, which 
 it would have required a stronger head and greater capacity than 
 Bill possessed, to keep together in peace for a single niglit. 
 
 The Doctor grunted, as usual; but with unusual indications of sym- 
 pathy for Master Mitten. 
 
 "■ Why, Doctor, it seems to me," said the good lady, ''that I smell 
 peach brandy !" 
 
 " It seems so to me too," said the Doctor, "and scgar smoke to 
 boot." 
 
 " It's a lie," said Bill. "He tells a lie, and you tell a lie." 
 
 " Do you think my child is drunk, Doctor ?" 
 
 " No doubt of it in the world, madam. Nothing else is the matter 
 with him." 
 
 " Then my flxte is sealed. I am doomed to wretchedness for life." 
 And she sobbed and shrieked by turns. 
 
 " Betire to your room, madam. I will put him to bed, and stay 
 with him until he gets sound asleep; and he will be well in the 
 morning." 
 
 Hhe did so; but it was to walk her rojniin tortures through the 
 live-long night — not to sleep. 
 
 It was late in the morning before William rose. He had learned 
 from a servant all that passed on the preceding evening; and it 
 was an hour after he rose before he could venture from his room, 
 to face his mether. At length he came, and mingled tears of 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 81 
 
 contrition with her tears of sorrow — confes.sed his faiiltand promised 
 never to smoke another sogar. or drink another drop of liquor, while 
 he lived. 
 
 About noon, on this day, an elderly, good looking gentleman ijiade 
 his appearance at Mrs. Mitten's and introduced hinisclt.as Mr. Jud- 
 kins Twattle. He said ho had f^een Mrs. Mitten's advertisement, and 
 had come to offer his services as a private teacher. Mrs. Jlitten de- 
 sired him to call again at ten the next morning, when her brother 
 would be present, whose counsel she wished to have in the matter. 
 
 At the appointed hour the parties met. 
 
 " Havo you any certificates of character and capability Mr. Twat- 
 tle ?" said Ca]>taia Thompson. 
 
 " More. 1 presume, sir, than you will be willing to read." 
 
 Whereupon he produced a large bundle of ccrtilicates, running by 
 long jumps through twenty years, and growing colder anu«colder. 
 with very few exceptions, from the first to the last. They all agreed 
 however in representing 3Ir. Twattle as fully couipeteat to teach all 
 the ordinary branches of an English education, with Algebra, Geome- 
 try, Latin and Greek. The two fir.^t were vcr}' flattering, and spoke 
 in unmeasured terms of his skill as a teacher, his talents, attainments, 
 gentlemanly demeanor, and spotless moral character. The tVvo last 
 merely testified that " Doctor Tw!xtt\c was a good scholar and fully 
 able to teach Latin, Greek, Mathematics, &c., &c.; tho one almost a 
 literal copy of the other. The first and second were frojp A'evmont 
 —the third from Pennsylvania — the fourth irom A'erniont — the fifth 
 from Virginia — the sixth from New Hampshire — and the seventh 
 from Kentucky— rthe ei^'ht from Vermont — and the rest were from 
 various places, under iihe doisignations of " Bethel Seminary," "Be- 
 thesda Institute," " Pineville l^yceum," <• Buckliead Atheneum," 
 " Goosepond Literary Parthenon," " Big Lick Acropolis oi Let- 
 ters," ''Tickvillc Emporium of Litciaturc and Science," <!v:c. 
 
 Captain Thompson knew nothing of Mathematics, Greek, or liatin, 
 but he could understand certificates as well as Newton, l)(Mnosthcues, 
 or Cicero J and he .spared no pains in studying thom njion this occa- 
 sion. After ho had looked them over until he wore out the patience 
 of his sister and Dr. Twattle, he observed : 
 
 " You scorn to liave been a great traveller, Doctor." 
 
 " Yes, sir. I early conceived a desire to settle in the sunny South ; 
 and as soon as I raised money enough to bear my expenses, T left mv 
 native State for Pennsylvania ; but my health failing, Viad to return. 
 As soon as I recovered my healtli, I set out again for the South ; but 
 
32 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 my health again failing, I was again constrained to seek a Northern 
 clime. And thus I went on until, advancing in years, I found that 
 I could not only endure a Southern climate, but that' it Avas now 
 m»re conLcenial to my constitution. than a Northern one. Thencefor- 
 ward, I have 5^1 ways resided in the South. Having no aim but to 
 spread the lights of science through our favored country, and no dis- 
 position to accummulate money, but a strong propensity to travel and 
 see the world, I have so ordered my life as to fill the measure of my 
 wishes. I teach from place to place, for longer or shorter periods, as 
 I like or dislike the people; but never make an arrangement for more 
 than two years at a time. Thus it is, sir, that you see so many cer- 
 tificates from different places." 
 
 " What gave you such a strong desire to visit the South?" 
 " At first, nothing but my inborn roving disposition ; but after 
 residing iiwhile at the South, particularly in Virginia, I became so 
 much enamored with Southern manners, customs, talent, spirit, 
 generosity, hospitality and vivacity, that I determined to fix my 
 abode here as soon as I could do so without rushing, with my eyes 
 open right, into the jaws of death.'' 
 
 '' Emph-hemph !" noised out the Captain, ponderingly. "What 
 are your terms. Doctor ?" 
 
 " Six hundred dollars a year, if I have to board myself and visit 
 my pupil twice a day, and sometimes at night, (for 1 expect to teach 
 Astronomy) through all seasons, and all weather ; or two hundred, if 
 I board in the family with my pupil." 
 
 '^ Why, that is avast difference. Doctor." 
 
 •'So it is: but I detest taverns so much, that 'l would rather 
 sacrifice twice the price of board than board in one at any price." 
 
 " But you can find private boarding in the village, in genteel 
 houses, for much le.ss than fuur hundred dollars." 
 
 ''Well, if you prefer it, get me board in a genteel private family 
 and add to the tuition as much as it may be less than four hundred 
 dollars ; and send the pupil to my room, instead of requiring me to 
 go to his." 
 
 " Why not let the tuition stand at tsvo hundred dollars, and we 
 pay your board ?" 
 
 " No objections in the world, if you will allow me to board where 
 I please, and allow me every accommodation that I could have at a 
 tavern, and sead the pupil to me. I understand that Mrs. Norton 
 is a nice woman, and takes boarders. I will board with her and 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 33 
 
 pledge myself that my board shall not cost you over three hun- 
 dred dollars." 
 
 " Mrs. Norton's is the dearest.boarding house iu town, and fully one 
 mile from my sister's." 
 
 " Well, if too far for the scholar to walk, how much harder for 
 me to walk ! Nor can you expect me to let you choose my board- 
 ing house, and fix the price that I shall pay too I Allow me to board 
 at Mis. Norton's and I will knock off fifty dollars from the tuition." 
 
 " Or, I suppose, allow you to board at my sister's and you will do 
 the same." 
 
 The Doctor looked as if he had committed a terrible blunder ; and 
 
 after a little halting and smiling, he replied : " Well, sir, you've got 
 
 me where the owl had the hen : so that I can neither back nor squall 
 
 — of course I will." 
 « 
 
 "Arc you willing to contract for s"x months on trial at those 
 rates ?" 
 
 " Perfectly willing — perfectly willing — provided you will engage 
 not to turn me off capriciously at the end of six months; and allow 
 me to fix the time of our connection, by our next contract, if I de- 
 port myself to your satisfaction. Dining one day with Thomas Jef- 
 ferson, and Nathaniel Macon, the latter made a remark which I have 
 often proved the value of since : '• In making a contract," said he 
 " always have a little of it on your own side." 
 
 " Are you ac(juaintod with those gentlemen r"' 
 
 The Doctor looked provoked at himself, for having made the re- 
 mark, and replied in a courteous but hurried manner : " No sir — 
 that is not — no sir. no. The circumstances' which brought us to the 
 same tiiblc, were purely accidental. Neither of them, I am sure, has 
 now the most distant recollection of me ; though we did interchange 
 some words upon that occasion." ^ 
 
 '• Well, Doctor, my sister and I will confer upon the matter in 
 hand, and if jou will call at three o'clock, this afternoon, we will let 
 you know our decision." 
 
 " I will call at the hour," said the Doctor risiilg, " but to avoid 
 any unkind feelings, it is proper that I should apprise you of my 
 views of negotiations of this kind. When I msde a proposition, 
 which is not immediately accepted, I do not consider myself bound 
 by it afterwards. If time bo claimed to deliberate upon a proposition 
 of mine, I claim the same time for retracting.it if I see proper." 
 
 "That is all perfectly fair, Doctor — perfectly fair." 
 
 The Doctor withdrew ; and he had hardly cleared the door before 
 
34: 
 
 MASTER WILLIAM: MIITEN. 
 
 Mrs. Mitten begged her brothei to call him back, and close the bar- 
 o-ain immediately. " He ^ees," says she, '- where you entrapt him, 
 when speaking ©f Mrs. Norton, and his last remark was mad© on 
 purpose to help him out of the difficulty." 
 
 " Anna," said the Captain, "my advice to you is, to have nothing 
 to do with this man. If he is not a pickled villain, I'll give you my 
 head for a foot-ball. A man of his age and accomplishment rua- 
 ning about the country with a batch of old rusty, ragged certificates 
 in his pocket, gathered through twenty years, not one of which ten 
 years old, says a word about his moral character — willing to teach for 
 the pitiful sum of one hundred and fifty dollars, and confessedly 
 with no money in his pocket ! Down from Vei'mont, and then back 
 VL^a'ici — then South, then North, then here, there, and every where ! 
 He's a rascal — as sure as you're born he's a rascal." 
 
 " Oh ! brother David, what uncliaritAble beings you men tre ! 
 Every objection you raised he answered, as if by accident, before 
 you I'uised or even thought of them. He has accounted most satis- 
 factorily and nobly, for the cheap rate at which ho helds his 
 
 services — " 
 
 " — p-h-e-e-e-w ! He from Vermont and care nothing f»r money I 
 
 A literary apostle to the Southern Gentiles, moved by pare love of 
 their wondrous virtues ! So devoted to them, that sickness can't 
 drive him away from them ! Stuff, smoke, nonsense ! He'll breed 
 mischief in your house as sure as you take him there." 
 
 " Brother David, are you going to let slip this favorable opportuni- 
 ty of getting a teacher for my child at this critical period of his 
 
 life,"— 
 
 " No, I'm going to let you' do as you please. If you want him, you 
 
 shall have him ; and I'll do the best I can with him, for you ; but 
 
 once more I pray you to let this man alone ; save the expense of tim 
 
 and the danger of him, andlsend your son to Mr. Markham, and beg 
 
 him to whip the devil out 
 ever since he was taken from 
 
 of him, that has been getting into him 
 school." 
 
 "■ I have said again and agjiin, and 1 now s^y once for all, that my 
 child shall not go to Mr. Mafkha-ra." „ 
 
 "Very well, I'll engage Tjvattle. Take him KM" six months first, 
 and you will be sure of his doing well, for ^hat time at least; but 
 look out for squalls, afterwards." 
 
 This was agreed to, aiid Mr. Twattlc wa9 doployed upon the 
 terms and conditions already intimated. That is to say, for six 
 months, at the rate of one hundred and fifty dollars per annum. — 
 Mrs. Mitten to boai;d jaim, and he to fix the terms of his next en- 
 o-accment. . • 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Dr. Twattle deported himself to the entire satisfaction of Mrs. 
 Mitten for six months. He had noi been in her house one month, 
 before he completely captivated the whelc fiimily. So dii^nified and 
 easy was he in his manners, so neat in his person, so courteous and 
 respectful to the ladies, so rich in knowledge, so pleasant in anecdote, 
 so attentive to his business, and so careless of sordid lucre — in short, 
 so perfectly did he come up to the IMittcu-standard of the gentleman 
 and the scholar, that he was soon admitted to all tiic rights, privileges 
 and immunities of a near connection, in the family. The girls called 
 him Uncle Ticatt. William called him Father Tivachly. And Mrs. 
 ^Mitten called him Good Man, and Good Doctor, and burdened him 
 with deliciicies for the palate. The Captain watched him closely; 
 but was constrained' to say, greatly to the delight of his sister, that 
 he didn't know but that he had misjudged the man. '• Certainly, " 
 added he, '' if he is au iuiposte;', he is +.ho most ficcoinpli.'^lied one 
 that I ever met with ; and I have seen not a few.'' 
 
 " And now. brother," said Mrs. M., " I hope }ou'll acknowledge 
 that /or once in your Hie, I was right and you were wrong." 
 
 *'' Not yet, Anna. Any rogue may be clever for a few months. I 
 will admit, however, that hf, does better tham I expected, even thus 
 far." 
 
 The Doctor's first quarter's salary ths paid ; and he laid it nearly 
 ull out in presents for Mrs. Mitten, her daughters and son. 
 
 " (rood I)octor,''' saii she, " if you could turn these things to any 
 use, I would insist i^n your keeping them ; for it looks like down 
 right robbery to take them from your scanty means." 
 
 " I only regret that my scanty means in hand will not allow me to 
 double them, Mrs. Mitten." 
 
 •' How would you do m case of sickness or mi.sfertune r ' 
 
 '* I have had for mauy years a little fifnd hud up to meet these 
 contingencies — some ten or twelve thousand dollars, or such a matter. 
 This, small, as it is, will bear me through a long s[>eli 9:' bickuess 
 gently to thq grave; or keep me above want, should I linger on the 
 shorea of time af^er I become too old tu be uaoful, or to labor in my 
 vocation. When thrown upon that (fund, i shall chfi^ge my chai-ac- 
 ter — my liberality will end ; but until forced upon it, why desire to 
 
36 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 increase it. So little do I think of it, while I am able to mak« a 
 living without it, that I hardly count it as a part of my estate. It 
 mi«^ht as well not be, for I shall probably die before I need it, and I 
 certainly never shall touch it until I do need it. For several years 
 I have not ei/in drawn the interest upon it." 
 
 " Suppose you were to die suddenly, to whom would you leave it?" 
 
 " To How.e of the many beloved pupils whom I have taught j or to 
 some one that I might be teaching when death arrests me." 
 
 ^' Have you no near connections, Doctor?" 
 
 "None nearer than fourth cousins, madam; and these are so 
 profligate and abandoned, particularly the one who bears my name, 
 that I never wish t» see them again." 
 
 '^ Were you never married, Doctor ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, for a short time; but " 
 
 " Pardon me, Doctor, for touching that tender chord. I see that 
 I have inadvertently revived long buried griefs." 
 
 " You are very excusable, madam — your question was a very 
 natural one in its place. At another time I will give you the history 
 of my married life, as long as my dear Anna lived. For the present, 
 suffice it to Sdy that the little pittance of which I was just speaking 
 came by her ; and upon her death, I set it apart as a consecrated 
 fund, never to be touched, while I could live without it. You have 
 here another and the jjviucipal reason why I never speak of that fund 
 as my own. But I have yet another : If the world knew of i(, I 
 should be harrassed and have my feelings lacerated incessantly and 
 insuflFerably, with idle questions about my manner ot life, while I 
 have the means to live witho^it labor, as though it were not every 
 man's duty to labor in some useful calling, while he is able to do it." 
 
 " 1 fully approve 3'our conduct. Doctor ; and I shall keep sacred 
 the secret which my reprehensible curiosity hA dragged from you." 
 
 " Thank you,»madam ; but pray take no blame to yourself for your 
 curiosity;. it rose as naturally from the current of your conversation 
 as the bubble rises from the agitated fountain." 
 
 Mrs. Mitten possessed too kind a heart to receive presents from 
 the Doctor without returning them with in'erest. 
 
 At the end of the first month, Mrs. Mitten proposed to give a 
 large tea-party, for the express purpose of introducing the Doctor to 
 the villagers, male and female ; but he begged her not to do it. " I 
 cannot," said he, '' reciprocate hospitalities, and I should be pained 
 to receive attentions which I cannot return. I am fond of company, 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEX. 37 
 
 but for the reason just given, witli others, I rather avoid company 
 than seek it." 
 
 " I have noticed that, Doctor. Yon hardly ever leave the house 
 in the day time, while you often take rccreatiou-ramblcs at night." 
 
 " Just SO; madam ; but there is a better reason than that: the day 
 is yours, (or your son's) ; the night is mine." 
 
 Considering that William never rose till breakfast time in th« 
 morning, and was out almost cyery night to a late hour, he made very 
 rapid progress in his studies under Doctor Twattle. His mother had 
 committed him to the entire direction of his teacher, and as night was 
 the recreation hour, he could not object to his pupil's following his 
 example. 
 
 A little incident occurred iu the first month of the Doctor's 
 tutorship which must not be passed over in silence, as it produced 
 important results in the eod. 
 
 One morning Mrs. Glib called on Mrs. Mitten, and, after the usual 
 salutations and interrogatories, said : * 
 
 "I am told Mrs. Mitten that you are delighted with your new 
 teacher." 
 
 " I am, indeed," said Mrs. M. 
 
 " Well, I've come over to see if he can't take ray boya too. They 
 and William have become so much attached to one another, that it 
 seems a pity to separate them. I have discovered" (lowering her 
 voice to a confidential pitch) "that Mr. Toper drinki. That good 
 brother of yours spoke but too truly when he charged ]\Ir. Toper with 
 drinking, ixow, I will pay three-fourths of Dr. IVattle's salary if 
 ho will take my boys iu with William ; and that will bring William's 
 tuition down to almost nothing." 
 
 " But will you board the Doctor three-fourths of the time ?" 
 
 " Certainly I will." 
 
 " But he will not be willing to teach four boys for the price he gets 
 for one." 
 
 '^ AVell, I'll l«t his wages stand at what they are ; and I will double 
 them for my thr«o boys, and board him half the time." 
 
 " But how will we do ? I can't consent for William to go to your 
 house to be taught." 
 
 " Well, the teaching may all be done at your house." 
 
 '• But I know that Doctor Twattle would not be willing to come 
 from your house to mine to teach." 
 
 " Well, then, he may stay altogether at yours, aud I will pay part 
 of his board." 
 
 D > 
 
38 MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 '"Oh, Mrs. Glib, I coxildn't think of taking pay for board from 
 
 you." 
 
 '' Well, what plan would you suggest. It's cruel to part the boys, 
 for they can hardly live out of each other's sight." 
 
 '' I really do not see how it will be possible to arrange it — I dcn't 
 think it can possibly be done." 
 
 " Suppose you iarite him down, Mrs. Mitten ; and let us talk over 
 the whole matter, and se3 if we can't fix it so that the boys may be 
 togetlicr." 
 
 To this propo,'5ition Mrs. Mitten readily assented, for she was very 
 confident that Doctoj Twattle would not, npon any terms, consent to 
 take the young Glibs. Accordingly, he was invited down, and in- 
 troduced to Mrs. Glib. 
 
 '' I have called, Doctor," said Mrs. Glib, "to see if you would not 
 be willing to take my three boys under jour instruction with Master 
 "William. Mrs. Mitten and I are like sisters, and our children like 
 brothers, and i? you would consent to take my children, you would 
 greatly accommodate us all round." 
 
 '• Certainly, madam," said the Doctor, " if Mrs. Mitten desires it, 
 I will take them with pleasure ; but being under contract with hei-, I 
 can of course do nothing without her consent." 
 
 '^ Bui how could it be arranged, Doctor ?" 
 
 " Jusi. as you and Mrs. Glib may choose." 
 
 " Would you be willing to board part of the time with Mi's. Glib ?" 
 
 "I would rather not change my boarding house; but if Mrs, 
 Mitten desires it, I will even do that." 
 
 '< Oh, no, Doctor, T do not desire to put you to that inconvenience; 
 besides I should feel that I was violating my contract if, I did not 
 board you all the time I" 
 
 '' Well, then. Doctor, how would this suit ? You board here all the 
 time, and I pay Mrs. Mitten half your board ?" 
 
 <' Very well, indeed, madam. I should prefer that to moving from 
 house to house." 
 
 " But I couldn't take money from Mrs. Glib, Doctor, for board. 
 And suppose we were to make that arrangement, how would it be as 
 to tuition ? I suppose you would ask four times as much for teaching 
 four as you do for teaching one." 
 
 " That would be equitable ; but I will not f^tickle about prices, if I 
 can accommodate the friend of one who has been such a kind friend 
 to me, as Mrs. Mitten has been." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEX. 89 
 
 " But where would you toach, Doctor ? At uiy house or Mrs. 
 Glib's r 
 
 " Just as you may say, Mrs. Mitk;\i." 
 
 " So you see, Cousin Mif," (so Mrs. G. in her playful moods called 
 Mrs. Mitten) " that the whole matter is in your hands, and you are 
 to say whether my poor boys are to get au education or not." 
 
 " Just here, when Mrs. Mitten was getting into an inextricable 
 entanglement, a bright thought Htruok her, which relieved her from 
 all difficulty, and in the transports of which she compromised her 
 piety a little. 
 
 "Well," said she, "we can arrange this matter i^atisficlorily, pro- 
 tided brother David will give his consent that* Do tor T wattle shall 
 take other children under his charge besides William. But i/ou 
 know, Doctor, that he has had the whole management of this business 
 in his own hands, and I would not dare to move an inch in it without 
 his consent. I will submit the matter to him, and if he consicnts, I 
 will most cheerfully consent that you t:ike Mrs. Glib's sons under 
 your instruction."* 
 
 " Oh, well/' said Mrs. Glib, " I have no fear but that he will give 
 his consent. You know Mrs. Mitten he stcpj^ied forward, unasked, to 
 assist my children, upon no othei- condition than that they gave him 
 a promise : and that promise they have all kept most honorably and 
 rdigtoudi/.^' 
 
 " Very well ; whatever brother David says I Vvill do Mrs. Glib ; 
 that I will promise you." 
 
 "And whatever Mrs. Mitten says," said the Doctor, " I Mill do." 
 
 " I shall see brother I'^avld to-d.iy, Mrs. Glib, and let you know to- 
 morrow what he says;" 
 
 Here the company separated, all perfecrly satisfied. 
 
 " Well, certainly," soliloquized Mr.«. Mitten, when I^Irs. Glib left 
 the house, •' that is the most trying won.an tlmt ever was born. She 
 keeps me everlastingly in hot water. Cousin Mlt .'" 
 
 It was not until the next morning that brother David appeared at 
 his sister's. He had no sooner arrv^^l (h:in Mr;-. Hiitt.-n made 
 known the dc.'iires of Mrs. Glib. 
 
 " Oh, yc=!," said he, " take the angels by all mcms '." 
 
 " But T wish -you to be .*erious, brother. Mrs. Glib has :r y ji-!edee 
 that the matter shall be submitted to you, iind I have promised her to 
 abide by your dec'sion." 
 
 "You have! Well, tell Mrs. Glib that T am perr.ctly delighted 
 at the idea of havimg my n(*il e 7 in conhtant a*80caticn with ber 
 
40 MASTER WILLIAM 'MITTEN. 
 
 lovely boys, and nobody else ! That rather than lose so fine an 
 opportunity of adyancing the interest of luy nephew, I will send the 
 young gentlemen to school every day in my carriage — Good moraing, 
 sis,ter." 
 
 f' Stop brother — if you have any regard for me, don't leave me 
 with such a message to Mrs. Glib" — Lord bless my soul and body, 
 yonder she is coming now ! Brother David ! Brother, if you have 
 one particle of love or respect for your poor widowed sister come 
 back/' 
 
 '' Weil, what do you want ?" 
 
 " Do you seriously desire me to bear that message to Mrs. Glib ? 
 I know you do not. Then speak with your usual frankness." 
 
 '' Well, you are certainly the strangest woman that ever was born. 
 You are forever asking my advice, and never taking it. I had al- 
 most resolved to give you no more advice ; but as you seem afflicted 
 by this, I'll reverse it ; which I do seriously. Tell Mrs. Glib that I 
 object to Twattle's taking any more children while he is under con- 
 tract to teach William alone — I will not have his a#tentious divided. 
 And tell her, moreover, that I had just as lief see a polecat, a rattle- 
 snake and a hyena come into the house as her three children ." 
 
 '' Now, you've gone too far again ! Do, my dear brother, revoke 
 the last part — see, she's most here" — 
 
 " Very well, I revoke it. Good moi-ning !" 
 
 He had net left the house two minutes before Mr.^. Glib entered it. 
 
 " Well, " said she, " I saw your brother retire as I came up, and 
 I suppose you know his will concerning the boys ?" 
 
 '' Oh, yes, Mrs. Glib ; and he won't hear to the Doctor's taking 
 any more children while he is under contract to William. He 
 wishes William to have all his attentions." 
 
 '' He doss!" said Mrs. G., biting hor lip and patting her foot. 
 
 "■ Yes, ma'am. He seemed very positive." 
 
 " I suppose that gives i/ou very great pain — Good morning, Mrs. 
 Mitten !" 
 
 " Why, you're not going so soon !" 
 
 " Yes, madam; I just run over to know Capt. Thompson's edicts. 
 
 "Now, we've (to have new troufele ?" mused Mrs. M. as Mrs. G. 
 left the house. And she hit it exactly. In less than three months 
 after this date, a very strange report was Avhispered about in secret 
 places of the village. And what, gentle reader, do you think it was? 
 " Why that Twattle was courting the widow Mitten." No, that was 
 not it ; but that the widow Mitten was oeurting Twattle ! ! It was a 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 41 
 
 Blander, of course. The -widow Mitten was not the woman to court 
 anybody — i. e., mafrinionially. 
 
 About a iroritb before the first tenn of Doctor Twattle's service 
 expired, he spent several evenings with Mrs. Glib, who, the reader 
 has long since discovered, (though T believe I forgot to tell hira so,) 
 was a widow too. Tier given name was Bridget ; but not liking it as 
 she grew up, she added an "n' to it, so as *o make it more romantic. 
 She was rich, and for her years remarkably handsome. 
 
 In these visits Mrs. Glib offo.rDd the Doctor many inducements tb 
 close nis contract with Mrs. Milton at the end of his engagement, 
 and make a more advantageous one with her. How the Doctor re- 
 ceived her overtures is n©t known; but it is certaia that Mrs. Glib 
 cherished the idea that after .'inothcr short engagcmeut with Mrs. 
 Mitten, he would be at her service ; an idea that was strengthened 
 by the fact that when he came to renew his engagement he limited 
 it to only four months. 
 
 It was not without alarms that Mrs. Mitten obserred the growing 
 intimacy of Mrs. Glib and Dr. Twattlo ; and wlien he limited the 
 time of his second engagement to four mouths, instead of a year or 
 more, as she had expected, her rrfarms were increased. No change, 
 however, was observed in the Doctor's conduct • and nothing of 
 higher interest occurred for the first two months, than, that Mrs. 
 Mitten in taking one of Master- William's coats to mend, found a 
 'pack of cards in one of the pockets, which discovery she reported to 
 his teacher, who promised to cure him of all love of cards by parental 
 reproof and kind counsels. 
 
 The third month of the second term had just passed, when a re- 
 port spread all over the village that Doctor Twattle and Mrs. ]Mitten 
 were certainly engaged to be married. It no sooner reaehad her 
 brother's e^rs than ho hasteced to her, to put her upon her guard, 
 lest in her well known admiration of the Doctor, she might say or do 
 something tending to encourage tho j-eport. To his surprise, he 
 found her unmoved by her brother's disclosure. "If people choose 
 to talk about me," said she, " let them talk. It would be no dis- 
 credit to me to marry such a man a's Doctor Twattle, I'm sure, for he 
 has e-very quality that any woman could desire in a husband, and not 
 a fault that I have been enabled to discover." 
 
 " Where is he r"' said the Captain, "I'll pack him off, if it co.'.'ts 
 me my life." 
 
 "And if we were going to be )narricd, do you think that would 
 stop it? I assure you it wnuld not." 
 
42 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " Very Tvell, take your course ! I zee plainly the report is 
 true. I have one piece of advice to give you, and it is the last that 
 I ever expect to give ^ou. Have your property secured to yourself 
 and your children. If you don't, every shilling of it will go to him 
 as soon as you are married ; and do not beggar yourself and them to 
 enrich a stranger." 
 
 ''Rest assured, if we get married, that will be done; and if it 
 were not, the good Doctor would not touch one dollar of it without 
 Biy consent. Of this I have the most satisfactory proof. But I 
 have heard him say, that if he should ever marry again, while ke 
 would have no woman who would not trust her property, with her 
 person to his care, yet that when both were commkted to his charge, 
 he would always consider the wife txs his, but the property as hors; 
 and for fear of accidents, he would immediately afterwards settle her 
 property on her. Not before, because there would be no merit in 
 doing it then, and great demerit in his betrothed to request it." 
 
 '' Why, Anna, he's a scoundrel as sure as you are born, and I feel 
 strongly tempted to cut his tin-oat. If you're bent upon marrying 
 him, as I see you are, let me bring a lawyer here and have your 
 property secured to you immediately." 
 
 " What is the use of doing that, when it is certain that he'll make 
 no such contract?" 
 
 " And, therefore, you're going to marry him without one ?" 
 
 " Yes, but I'm not going to lose my property for all that, brother.* 
 I know Doctor Twattle much better than you know him ; and if I 
 were at liberty to give you his history, you would not even ask me 
 to require a marriage-contract of him — I know you would not." 
 
 Just here the young ladies, wlio had overheard the conversation, 
 made their appearance in tears. 
 
 "I would," said Miss Jane, ''rather Ma should marry Uncle 
 Twattle tlian anybody else, if she will marry, but I never can see 
 my poor dear father's place = " 
 
 " Hold your tongue I" said Mrs. M., sharply. 
 
 "Ma, you can't blame us," said Miss Ann, "for not wishing to 
 see oar dear departed father's " 
 
 " Hush, I tell you ! and speak when you're spoken to." 
 
 " Oh^ sister," saici the Captain, " do let the children have their 
 opinions. I should think they might express their ojnnions of even 
 Mr. Saint Twattle, without having their heads snapped off." 
 
 Mrs. M. was in no humor for this retort just at this time, and she 
 
MASTKR willia:^ mittex. 43 
 
 showed more indepcndeuce and temper thau she had evinced for 
 many long years. 
 
 'MVoll," said she, "I'm my own mistress, and I'll mairy who I 
 please, if all the brothers and children in the world should oppose 
 it." So saying she hurried from the room. 
 
 '^Well, young ladies, I hope you've got a teacher to your liking 
 now !" said the Captain. 
 
 The girls each seized a hand of the Captain, and begged his for- 
 giveness for opposing his advi,ce to their mother, and promised more 
 for the future thau the Captain could have required. lie withdrew 
 his right hadd from Anna's embrace, and turned his eyes away from 
 them, as if looking for something that he did'nt wish to find, and with 
 his middle finger pressed something from both, that he manifestly 
 wished to conceal. 
 
 "Oh, ray di-arest, dearest uncle," said Jane, ''our father, our 
 only, our best counsellor! Will you not do something to stt^ this 
 match ?" • 
 
 "I don't know what I can do," said the Captain, striving to dis.9i- 
 pate or hide his feelings by rough words, '• unless it is to cut the 
 scoundrel's throat, to which E feel strongly tempted." 
 
 " No, uncle, no. Use no violence " 
 
 Here William came in whistling " Y'lnkee Doodle," 
 
 "You young scoundrel!" said the Captain, "you've brought 
 things to a pretty pa^s ! Would God jou had died at your birth." 
 
 " Why, what- have I done, uncle ?" 
 
 " You've filled your mother's heart with anguish ever since you 
 quit JMarkham's school ; and you've brought into the house a man 
 who is going to beggar her nnd all her children." 
 
 " I did'nt bring him, uncle. You know I was willing to go back 
 to Mr. Markham." 
 
 "Well, to "do you justice — but what have you been at ever since! 
 
 Disturbing prayer-meetinsg, you little rascal, and running into 
 
 all manner of iniqirtties ! You'll come t<> the gallows as sure as your 
 name's J3iU Mitten, you young dog! Do you know your mother'j 
 going to marry Twattlc ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; he told me about it long ago; but said he would'ut do 
 it if T objected " 
 
 *' If 1/ou objected ! If ym objected. And I suppose your Royal 
 Majesty gave your consent?" 
 
 " I told hira," said liill, with humility, for he had never seen his 
 
44 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 uncle in sucli a terrific state of mind before, " ttat if lie loved Ma, 
 and Ma loved him as mucli ae he said they did " 
 
 " Clear out of the house, you young rascal, or I'll " (Bill 
 
 scampered.) " Don't you see the deep, designing knave and hypo- 
 crite, in everything he does! Usiag a child — hie pupil . I'll 
 
 smoke the viper out of his hole !" so saying he rushed up to Twattle's ■ 
 room amidst the screams of the girls. 
 
 He knocked at the door, but received no response, 
 
 " You may as well open the door, Mr. Hell-cat, tor .711 come in if 
 I have to break it down." 
 
 After a short pause, and bo voice from within, he forced open the 
 door ; and behold, the Doctor was not. in ! lie went in search of 
 him, but luckily did not find him till his fury abated. He went 
 home and took his bed; for the excitement had brought on a smart 
 fever. 
 
 CHAPTER V. . 
 
 At the close of the last chapter, the reader will remember that we 
 left Mrs. Mitten resolved to marry Twattle, against the wished of 
 brother and daughters — Capt. Thompson sick in bed. from over ex- 
 citement — his two nieces in tears — Billy comfortable, and his teacher 
 missing. How did Twattle happen to be out. of his room in the day 
 time ? Doubtless, Mrs. ]V[itten had advised him to take an airing, 
 while her brother was swelling. Current as was the report of the 
 intended marriage, and strengthened as it was by what had passed 
 between Capt. Thompson and his sister, Mrs. Glib did not believe it. 
 " Mark what I tell you," she would say, with a great deal of self- 
 complacency, " it will never take place." 
 
 Her visits to Mrs. Mitten had not entirely ceased from the last 
 which we have noticed ; but they had become much less frequent, 
 and much less cordial than before. And when she heard of what had 
 passed between Thompson and his sister, at their last meeting, she 
 appeared rather pleased than pained by it. 
 
 Captain Thompson had kept his bed two days, when the Post- 
 master of the village visited lUm with a letter in his hand, and 
 mystery in his face. 
 
 " I have come over," said the Postmaster, " to make Aiquiries of 
 you concerning Mr. Twattle. Here is a letter from a Mr. Charter 
 Sanders, written at Athens, mailed at Lexington, and requesting an 
 immediate answer directed to Wasliington ; enquiring, whether there; 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 45 
 
 is not a man here by the name of Twattle ; and whether he goes by 
 the name of John, Jacob, Joseph, James, Jeremiah, or any other 
 given name beginning with a 'Jj' and requesting a particular de- 
 scription of him. The writer begs me to say nothing about this 
 letter; but as I hardly know Twattle, I have come to you for the 
 information required, as well as to let you know that there is pro- 
 bably something wrong in this Twattle, whom report says your sister 
 is about to marry." 
 
 "The dirty scoundrel!" exclaimed the Captain, "it now occurs 
 to me that every certificate which he produced, I believe without a 
 solUary exception, save two which Doctored him, was in behalf of 
 'J' Twattle; and the rogue's going through the country under every 
 name that ' J ' is the initial of. Set down here, and answer it im- 
 mediately; and don't whisper a word about that letter to any 
 one else." 
 
 It was done accordingly; but unfortunately, the gentlemen had 
 not noticed a servant girl who was in attendance on the Captain ; 
 during the conversation, and before the answer was finished, the 
 servant informed Miss Jane that Charter Sanders, " who lived in 
 Washington, had written about Mr. Twattle, and said his name was 
 John, Jim, and a heap more names, and that he was a dirty scoun- 
 dfel." Miss Jane hastened home, and conveyed the information to 
 her mother, and her mother to Twattle. 
 
 He received it with a smile, mingled with a little indignation, and 
 observed : 
 
 " That worthless fourth cousin of mine, Mrs. Mitten ! He keeps 
 me making explanations wherever I go. I hope Sanders will find 
 him, and bring him to justice. Now, I must post off to Washington, 
 to see Mr. Sandars, or lie under the suspicions of the town until he 
 comes here. Is your brother able to leave his bed yet V 
 
 "No sir; but he is better, and I hope to see him out in two or 
 three days." 
 
 This day, and the next, the Doctor was out more than usual; 
 and the day following he was missing. 
 
 About this time, the impression became general that the Doctor 
 had run away. Mrs. Mitten became very uneasy; and Mrs. Glib 
 came over to console her. ^ 
 
 " Did he make no explanations to you ?" said Mrs. Glib. 
 
 II None about leaving; though I know what took him away." 
 
 " Why, he explained the whole matter to me." 
 
 " That is very strange I'' 
 
46 PIASTER WILLIAM illTTEN. 
 
 "You may rest perfectly easy, Mrs. Mitten; he will return next 
 Thursday week." 
 
 " Why, it should not take him that long to go to Washington and 
 back." 
 
 " Washington ! He's not gone to Washington ; he's gone to 
 South Carolina to receive a valuable rice plantation, which his lawyer 
 writes he has recovered for him in that State." 
 
 " How did he go ?" 
 
 " I sold him a horso. I offered to loan him one; but he said he 
 never borrowed a horse for more than a day. He could have no 
 peade on a journey of a week, upon a borrowed horse, for fear of ac- 
 cidents and delaj-s that might injure the animal or incommode the 
 owner." 
 
 " What did he give you for him ?" 
 
 "More thau I asked, by fifty dollars; and when I objected to re- 
 ceiving more than my price, (which was up to the full value of the 
 horse,) he begged me to accept it, ' as an earnest of further and 
 larger favors that he meant to show me ;',, so he gave me his note for 
 two hundred dollars." 
 
 '•' His note ! Why, he had money, I know." 
 
 "Yes; he told me you had been kind enough to advance him 
 thirty-two dollars and a half since the last contract with him ; Trat 
 that, he said, would hardly bear his expenses to Charleston; sol 
 loaned him three hundred dollars to pay his lawyer's fees." 
 
 " Mrs. Crlib, he's an imposter; and we have both been made the 
 dvpes of his villainy, as sure as you live." 
 
 " Now, how it would distress you if I were to tell the Doctor that, 
 on his return, cousin Slit." 
 
 "No. it wouldn't in the least. He'll never, return, unless he is 
 brought by Mr. Sanders." 
 
 " What Mr. Sanders ?" 
 
 "Why, haven't you heard of the letter from Mr. Sanders, inquir- 
 ing about him, and representing him as a scoundrel, and I know not 
 what all ?" 
 
 " Why, no. Is there such a letter in town ?" 
 
 " To be sure there is." 
 
 « Well, if 1 had known of such a letter, Mrs. Mitten, I would 
 have told yow of it." 
 
 " I have had no opportunity of telling you of it." 
 
 " But I can hardly think him an imposter, after all, Mrs. Mitten. 
 Have you any reason to think him so ?" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 47 
 
 " Yes, abundant reason. On the day be left, be borrowed two 
 bundred and fifty dollars of mo — all I bad — telling me that be 
 bad just discovered where a distant relation of bis was, who under 
 his name, was imposing upon people everywhere, and constantly 
 bringing him into discredit; and that, if be could borrow five hun- 
 dred dollars, be would conduct Mr. Sanders to the rogue, and take 
 all the expenses of prosecuting him on his own shoulders. As I had 
 a deep interest in the matter — that is, in seeing all rogues brought 
 to justice — I advanced him two hundred and fifty dollars, to get legal 
 advice, a horse, &c., that be might be prepared to set out with Mr. 
 Sanders, as soon as he arrived, in quest of his rascally fourth 
 cousin, of whose iniquities be bad long before informed me. I con- 
 cluded he had gone to Washington to* meet Mr. S." 
 
 "Well, he told me about that cousin,^; and a long cock and 
 bull story about the death of his dear wife ])ridgeta. I told him I 
 didn't think there was a woman in the world, besides myself, who 
 bore that name "' 
 
 " Did be say her name was Bridgcta ? Why, be told me her 
 name was Anna." 
 
 "Why, the hypocritical, lying scoundrel I I'll make brother 
 John cut his ears off at sight, if he prove to be the villian I fear 
 he is." 
 
 Brother John, nor brother David, will ever v:ei eight of him." 
 
 " Well, if he has taken my best horse, and choused me out of 
 three bundred dollars, I'll spend a tbgusand dollars but what I'll 
 bring him to justice." 
 
 *' Well, now, Mrs. Glib, we have both been imposed upon ; our 
 best way will be to keep the whole matter to ourselves." 
 
 "No ; I am determined to expose him, and to seek legal redress. 
 I can't sit down quietly under a loss of a fine horse, and three bun- 
 dred dollars, without making some effort to save them. Let people 
 say what they may, I'll try and get hold of this rice plantation at 
 least." 
 
 " Believe mc, that story about the rice plantation is all a fabrica- 
 tion. Did he tell you about the fund that bo got by his dear 
 Bridgeta ?" ' • 
 
 " Oh, yes. It amounted to what he called the insignificant sum 
 of ten or twelve thousand dollars, and wa.s held sacred, and all that 
 rigmarole ; which, he said, nobody in the world knew about, but mej 
 and which be didn't wish to have known." 
 
 " Precisely what be told me 1" 
 
48 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 ^' The infamous rascal ! If I was near him, I'd claw his eyes out. 
 I'll pursue him to the end of the earth but what I'll have satisfac- 
 tion !" So saying she left in a great hurry and a great flurry. 
 
 In a few days, Mr, Sanders arrived. His report was that Twattle 
 had two wives then living, whose pi'operty he had squandered. - 
 That he had courted many widows and old maids, all of whom he 
 had fleeced to a greater or less extent ; and some of whom he had 
 treated even worse. That his title of Doctor was assumed by him- 
 self for purposes of villainy. That he passed under every given 
 name that " J" would suit; with much more that need not be re- 
 peated. 
 
 Captain Thompson recovered rapidly after Mr. Sanders' letter 
 reached the village. As soon as the latter had told his story, the 
 Captain visited his sistik-, whom he saluted very pleasantly. 
 
 " Well, sister, have you heard Doctor Twattle's history V 
 
 " As much of it as I wish to hear of." 
 
 " When does the wedding come oflf?" 
 
 '' "VYhea men cease to be scoundrels." 
 
 ''But surely you don't think ' Good Doctor T-wattle' a scoundrel; 
 you, who know him so much better than any body else knows him." 
 
 " Well, brother David, if you men will be such infamous, hypo- 
 critical, lying villains, how are we women to find it out ?" 
 
 A very proper question, Mrs. Mitten ! We can excuse Captain 
 Thompson for a little raillery, under the circumstances; but we can- 
 not excuse the indiff"erence of mankind generally to the iniquities of 
 men, and their want of charity for the errors and weaknesses of 
 women. Many a man in high life is in the daily commission of 
 crimes which would blast a woman's reputation forever ! By what 
 law is this distinction made between the sexes ? 
 
 Kow comes it to pass, that men are not only indulged in their 
 own dereliction from virtue, but in laying siege to the virtue of the 
 better sex? And wliy is man allowed to avail himself of the most 
 lovely traits of woman's character — her warm affections, her unsuspect- 
 ing confidence, her generous hospitality, her admiration of what is 
 noble in human nature, and attractive in human conduct — to ruin or 
 to swindle her? If there be no better world than this, where more 
 even-handed justice is meted out, than this, God help the women ! 
 Bat to return from this digression — 
 
 Mrs. Mitten's question stumped the Captain, and he turned the 
 subject : 
 
 " And what are you going to do with William, now ?" said he. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 49 
 
 " Heaven only knows, brother David. I regret my vow not to 
 send him to Mr. Markham ; but it is out, and I must keep it." 
 
 The Captain tried to convince her that her vow was not binding, 
 but without effect. Fortunately, a young man of liberal education 
 and good character opened a school in the village, within three days 
 after Twattle left, and William was sent to school to him. 
 
 William had just got into his new quarters, when the Captain 
 visited his sister, bearing with him a letter from the I'ost Office, to 
 her address. 
 
 " Anna," said he, as he entered the house, " did you lend Twattle 
 two hundred and fifty dollars before he went away ?" 
 
 " Yes," said she, blushing blue, " bul^ I've got his note." 
 
 •' Oh, well, if you've got his note, that will make you just as safe as 
 if you had got his tooth-pick. I do hope I'll come across the scoun- 
 drel yet, before I die. You would do well to set down and calculate 
 how much your tenderness for Bill's legs have cost you in actual 
 cash, to say nothijpg of trouble. Who is your letter from ?" 
 
 She opened and read as folloBB : 
 
 . Augusta, March 4th, 18 — 
 
 " Mrs. A. Mitten : 
 
 " Ilaving^reeently understood that you have procured a private 
 teacher, we have ventured to stop your advertisement, though ordered 
 to continue it unt ill forbid, under the impression that you have pro- 
 bably forgotten to have it *>topped. If, however, we have been mis- 
 informed, we will promptly resume the publication of it. You will 
 find our account below ; which as we are much in want of funds, you 
 will oblige us by settling as soon as convenient. Hoping your 
 teacher is all that you could desire in one, 
 
 " We remain, your ob't. serv'ts, 
 
 " H & B " 
 
 "J/rs. A. Mitten to Augusta Herald, Dr. 
 ''18— 
 " Mar'. 4th. To 47 insertions of advertisement for private 
 
 teacher from Mar. 4, 18 , to date, SI. 00 
 
 for the first, and 75 cents each, for the re- 
 mainder, §35 50 
 
 " Reed payment." 
 ■• Why, brother," said Mrs. M., as she closed the letter, '^ T can't 
 surely be compelled to pay this bill, which has been running on for 
 nine months after I got my teacher." 
 
 ''%C3 you can, sister j unless the stoppage of it in the village 
 
60 MASTER WILLlJLif iflTTEN'. 
 
 paper, where it first appeared, required them, by the custom of 
 printers, to stop if.- I stopt it here as soon as jou got Twattle ; but 
 I knew nothing of this advertisement; and don't remember seeing 
 any order, through this paper, to other papers to publish it." 
 
 " No, I wrote to H. & B. to publish it in the Herald, and to Dr. 
 C. to publish it in the Argus." 
 
 •'' Well, you'll have to pay both for publishing it until you order it 
 stopped. So put down seventy or eighty dollars more to account of 
 love for Bill's legs; and then hang him up by the legs, and whip 
 his back for a week, if you'll allow nobody else to do it." 
 
 "Brother, how have you taken such a prejudice against my poor, 
 unfortunate child ? If you'd talk to him kindly, and advise him, I 
 have no doubt he would do well; for he loves and fears you, both." 
 
 " No, Anna ; if you had let him follow my advice when he wished 
 to do it, he would ever after have done it, and in the end he would 
 have been an honor to the country; but he won't follow it now." 
 
 '< Well, brother, after all, I don't see that hp is sO very bad." 
 
 " AVell, I know him to be very badf from men who would not de- 
 ceive me." * 
 
 " I've very little confidence in men" 
 
 " So have I ; but there are some honest ones among them ; and 
 even dishonest ones may be trusted when they tell of bad boys who 
 infest the village. I will go and stop the advertisement in the 
 Argus ; and much as I sympathize with you, and regret your losses, 
 I am so rejoiced at the escape you have made. from the clutches of 
 that rascal, and the ruin that threatened you, that they seem to me 
 almost nothing. It looks to me as if a kind Providence had inter- 
 fered in your behalf." 
 
 *• I have no doubt of it, brother; and I wish I coyld see you put- 
 ting your trust in Providence more than you do. I will endeavor to 
 live better than I have ever lived, do better than I have ever done, 
 and be more humble, than I have ever been for the balance of my 
 life." 
 
 " Why, as to that matter, xVnna, I don't see how you are to get any 
 better than you are. I wish I was half as good in moral character 
 as you are. Even your " faults lean to virtue's side" — but like all 
 women, you let your feelings get the better of your good judgment. 
 Your difficulties all spring out of your afl^ctions, which blind you to 
 defects in the objects of them, and make you the easy dupe of men, 
 
 women, and chiklren, whom you love . Why do you ween? 
 
 Now is the time you ought to rejoice . I've left my poCTRt. 
 
MASTER WILLJAM MIITKK. 51 
 
 handkerchief at home — Good niorninfr. I'll stop the advertisement, 
 and pay up both bills for you, and talk to William. He may do well 
 at the new school. Young Smith, his teacher, seems to be a fine 
 3'oung man, and good morning." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Wi: left William Mitten just after his introduction to Mr. Cosby 
 Smith, his fourth teacher. Smith, but recently from college, and 
 coming in competition with Mr. Markham, of course, did not re- 
 ceive much patronage, though few men of his age better deserved 
 patronage than he did. He commenced with sixteen scholars, a 
 fourth of whom were entered by Mrs. Glib and Mrs. Mitten. 
 William, without trouble, and with little study, went immediately 
 to the Lead of this school ; and he went tliere only to breed trouble 
 to his teacher, and mischief, vice, and insubordination among his 
 schoolmates. Of all the pests that can be thrown into a school, the 
 smart boy, without a rival in it for talents, and without principle, is 
 the greatest. His talents give a charm to his vices which is irre- 
 sistible to most of his young companions. School-boys make too 
 little distinction between virtue and vice, anyhow. They never 
 seem to think that their own character is involved in their associa- 
 tion with the wicked ; nor that they are under any obligation to 
 discountenance sin, in any of its forms, provided it does not invade 
 their own rights. Hence, the vicious are admitted to all the rights, 
 privileges, and immunities of the little republic, as fully and freely 
 as the most virtuous. Look at the students of a school on the play- 
 ground — mark their intercourse with 04ich other generally, and you 
 will find it impossible to discover from their conduct which of them 
 stands highest, or which stands lowest, in point of moral character. 
 ]5ut you will not find much difficulty in discovering who are the 
 master-spirits among thcra in their studies. To these there is a 
 marked deference and respect shown, even in their sports. For the 
 most part, their word is law, and whether it be on the side of good or 
 evil, it is equally aulhorit:itivc. What can be worse than such law- 
 givers, when their hearts are constantly set on mischief! 
 , For some months before William had entered this school, ]ih lip- 
 f||*plications to his mother, for money, had become alarmingly frequent j 
 but he always quieted her alarms by representing to her that the 
 ^"unds desired were for some benevolent, or praiseworthy object. His 
 _ rcscntntions brought from tier many excellent lectures upon indi- 
 
52' MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 scriminate chanties, and the danger to which his benevolent nature 
 was exposed from imposters and worthless vagrants, who choos© 
 rather to beg than to work — to which he generally gave substantial- 
 ly the same reply, namely, " that he was always very particular in 
 seeing who he gave his money to." In this he told the truth, at 
 least, since he generally gkve his money to one of the Glibs, whom 
 he had become very particular in seeing too frequently at the card- 
 table. He had been at Smith's school but a few months, before 
 the fountains of his charity suddenly dried up ; and what may seem 
 very strange to some, dried up just as he began to acquire the means 
 of more enlarged benevolence. His growing fortune first exhibited 
 itself in a profusion of pen-knives, which he carried about him, from 
 the most costly and elegant down to the cheapest and most worthless 
 kind. 
 
 "William," said his mother, "where do you get those elegant 
 pen-knives ?" 
 
 " This one was given to me by Mr. Jones ; and this one I found j 
 and this one was given to me by one<of the school-boys." William 
 did not show his mother his whole assortment, by three or four. 
 
 " I hope, my son, that these gifts are but just returns for the many 
 acts of charity which you have recently done "to the poor. One 
 never loses anything in the end by this kind of charity ; but you 
 should have excused yourself from accepting the last, on the ground 
 that you had two elegant knives already ; and that your young 
 friend needed it more than you did." 
 
 "I did tell him so; but he said I must take it to remember 
 him by." 
 
 " Well, my son, put that away as a sacred keepsake, and never 
 use it but in case of necessity." 
 
 The next signs which William exhibited of hig growing fortune, 
 were books, fishing-poles, shinny-sticks, bunches of quills, breast- 
 pins, and cakes of divers kinds. 
 
 " William," said his mother, " where did you get those articles ?" 
 
 "■ They were given to me by the boys for doing their sums for 
 them ; and taking them over their lessons — " 
 
 " Oh my son ! my son ! You surely ,did not take pay for these 
 
 little kindnesses, from your school fellows ! I am ashamed of you — 
 
 deeply mortified. Where did you learn that groveling sordid spirit ? 
 
 'I would rather have given you twenty dollars, to buy all these things 
 
 than to have seen you guilty of such igaoble acts." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 53 
 
 -" Well, Ma, I didn't wish to take 'cm ; but tliey would make me 
 take tl^eiii." • 
 
 '*' No matter what they said, 3'ou should not have received them. 
 .4s a gift you might have taken them ; but as a reward iforsuch little 
 favors a.s those to your young friends, you should have rejected 
 them." 
 
 These were new lights to William; for he thought his mother 
 woujd be delighted to hear of his superiority over his schoolmates, 
 and that he was already turning his talents to good account. 
 
 '' And where did 30U got the two breast-pins ?" 
 
 "I sold one of my pen-knives, and bought this." 
 
 "Not the one, I hope, that your friend gave you " 
 
 " Oh, no ma'am ; the one I found I" 
 
 " Why, William, you surely have not sold n found knife I It was 
 not your property, but the property of him who lost it; and you 
 should have kept it,*to restore it to him as soon as he could be dis- 
 covered ; and you should have used your best exertions to find the 
 owner, in order that you might restore it to him. I am deeply mor- 
 tified at this act of your.s j and if you have any regard for my feel- 
 ings, or your character, never do the like again. It alarms me, and 
 pains me deeply to discover such principles in you. Where did you 
 learn them '■ Not from any vrho carries the blood of your father or 
 mother in his veins, I am sure. I fear your intimacy with the Glibs 
 is ruining you. Nothing but dire ueces.sity could have induced me 
 to put you to the same school with them ; but I charge you, as I 
 have often charged you before, to have as little to do with them as 
 possible." 
 
 " Where did you get the other brcost-pin ?" 
 
 William was saved a great deal of trouble and mortification in 
 answering this question, by an exclamation of his sister Jane, who 
 no sooner cast her eyes upon the breast-pin, than she exclaimed : 
 " Why, Ma, that is Flora Glib's breast-pin. Let me look at it 
 William, yes, here are her initials on it : F. C. L. G. — Floi-a 
 Claudia Lavinia Glib. I knew it as soon as I saw it; for I have 
 seen her wear it a hundred times." 
 
 " William I" ejaculated his mother, with manifest alarm and in- 
 dignation, " where did you get that pin ?" 
 
 "Jeff. Glib gave it to mel" 
 
 *< Go immediately to him, and return it; and tell him to give it 
 back to his Bister." 
 
 The truth of the matter is that William had mado such rapid im- 
 
54 MASTER WILLIAM MHT£N, 
 
 provemeut in card-playing, that he had become an over-match for 
 the Glibs, and he was now indoctrinating as many of his school- 
 mates into the mysteries of the card table as he could find willing to 
 become his pupils ; and for the reasons already given, he found nearly 
 the whole school ready to take lessons from him. Most of his ar- 
 ticles of merchandize, (and we have not named all of them) were the 
 fruits of. his industry in this department of science ; though some of 
 them were, as he said, rewards for his better services to his fellow 
 students. It would have been bad enough, had his evil influence 
 stopt here; but it did not. He had already become mean enough to 
 tempt his school-fellows to sin in a hundred forms ; and artful 
 enough to put them always forward to the post of danger in the 
 commission of it. The consequence was, that, while he got the 
 booty, they got the floggings and disgrace. 
 
 The iniquities of the school were most unrighteously visited upon 
 the head of the preceptor, who, at the end of year, was compelled 
 to quit the village, for want of patronage. 
 
 - " And what," said Captain Thompson, to his sister, " are you 
 going to do with your hopeful son now, Anna?" 
 
 '* Heaven only knows ! 1 fear he will bring my grey hairs with 
 sorrow to the grave. Brother David, why do you not talk to him ?" 
 
 '' Talk, the devil ! I have talked to him, in all ways that I 
 can think of; and what good docs it do? He has got so of late 
 that when I talk to him I can hardly keep my hands off of him. I 
 can see in the looks and actions of the young rascal, that nothing 
 but fear keeps him from laughing outright in my face." 
 
 '' Oh, brother, 1 think you judge him too harshly. I know he has 
 got into bad habits; but still, I am sure he respects and loves you." 
 
 " And he respects and loves you, too, don't he?" 
 
 "He must be a brute if he does not." 
 
 " Well I suppose he docs love you ; but I assure you he cares no 
 more for your counsels than he does for mine ; and that hardly a day 
 goes over his head that he does not practice some deception upon 
 you." 
 
 "There, brother, I think you judge him a little t®o hardly again. 
 > He generally does what I tell him." 
 
 " Well, tell hiifi to quit playing cards, pilfering from gardens and 
 orchards, cursing and swearing, smoking rjegars, drinking spirits, 
 frequenting kitch — 
 
 " Oh, mercy on me, brother David! what enemy of my child has 
 filled your ears with these calumnies? He is bad enough, I know, 
 
 i 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 55 
 
 but he is not a devil yet. I cannot believe he is near as base as you 
 represent him to be." 
 
 " Very well; what are you going to do with him ?" 
 
 *' I do not know. Will you take him under your charge ? for I 
 confess I fear ho is getting into bad habits." 
 
 "Yes, I'll take him, and clothe him and feed him at my own ex- 
 pense, if you will only give me your word that you will not interfere 
 with my management of him. Will you do it? If you will, I'll 
 perhaps save your boy from ruin and you from a broken heart." 
 
 " Where would you send him to school ?. To ^Ir. Markham ?" 
 
 " I should prefer him ; but as I know you object to him, I will 
 engage that Bill shall not be sent to Markham. Indeed, he must be 
 got out of this place ; or forty bushels of salt, and as many pounds 
 of saltpetre wouldn't save him. I'll send him to Mr. Waddel. 
 He'll fetch him straight." 
 
 ''I'm told Mr. Waddel is very severe." 
 
 " Not a whit more than he ought to be, I'll warrant you. I am 
 told his pupils generally like him, and improve wonderfully under 
 him. Now, Anna, if I take him, remember the terms. You are to 
 have nothing to do with him. You surely ought to know, that I can 
 have no object in taking charge of him, but his good and your peace. 
 
 If, therefore, my conduct seems unkind, or severe to him, don't 
 let your maternal partialities lead you to interfere in any manner 
 with my authority over him. By this time, you are surely con- 
 vinced of the utter futility of your mode of mauaglng'him, and that 
 if some new course of discipline be not adopte'U towards him, he will 
 bring himself and you to an untimely grave. You must not only 
 make up your mind to give me unlimited control over hiai, during 
 his pupilage, but you must pledge me your word, that you will show 
 me every letter that he writes to you during his absence from you at 
 school, or I will have nothing to do with him. Wliy do you weep, 
 Anna ?" 
 
 "Brother," said Mrs. M., "it is a hard thing for a mother to 
 wean herself from her own child — to tear him from her bosom, and 
 hand him over as property to another. I know, my dear brother, 
 that your intentions are good — that you have the interests of my 
 child deeply at heart, and that all your aims are for his good and 
 mine; but I fear that you have so often been provoked by William 
 and have become so prejudiced and embittered against him, that you 
 cannot judge of his conduct impartially, you cannot make the due 
 allowances for his faults, and that you will lean as much too far on 
 
56 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 the side of severity in your government as I have leaned on the side 
 of lenity in mine. Why cannot you act a father's part by him, 
 veithout usurping exclusive authority over him ?" 
 
 " I had a long answer to what you have said, Anna; but your last 
 remark suggests a very brief one, which I think is conclusive. Now 
 all I ask is that you put me exactly in his father's place. Had his 
 father lived, he would have exercised absolute authority over William 
 in all matters touching his educaj;ion. He would have demanded — 
 or rather you would have freely granted to him, the perusal of all 
 your son's letters to you. In all else you would have ruled the boy 
 conjointly. Now, give me the absolute control of him in the matter 
 of his education, let me see his letters to you, and in all else you 
 shall have unlimited control of him. I need not tell you why I 
 exact these terms of you. They are indispensable to the proper 
 management of your son." 
 
 This reply brought Mrs. Mitten to a dead silence; and Avhile she 
 was pondering upon it, very opportunely for its success, in steps 
 Master William, with his beautiful face " pretty considerably " dis- 
 figured with bruises and scratches, 
 
 " Why, William !'^ exclaimed his mother, almost at the fainting 
 point, " who upon the earth has treated you in that manner ?" 
 
 "•Jim Fox," muttered William. 
 
 " What did you fight about ?" 
 
 " We \XQYO plai/ing and he got mad, and insulted me, and I struck 
 him." 
 
 This was strictly truc^ hut not quite the whole truth. The plai/- 
 ing was icith cards, and the insult was, " Bill MiUen, i/ou're the 
 biggest cheat that ever jAayed a card in this town." 
 
 Captain Thompson said nothing, peradventure, he might at this 
 critical period strengthen his sister's convictions that he was un- 
 duly prejudiced and embittered against her son. With the promise 
 to call the next day for her decision upon his proposition, he left 
 rather abruptly. 
 
 As soon as he retired, Mrs. M. addressed her son as follows : 
 " William, I'll have to send you away from this village, or wicked 
 associates will be the ruin of you. I find that it is vain to counsel 
 yeu against keeping bad company, and the only alternative left me 
 is to remove you from it. I have concluded, therefore, to send you 
 to school to Mr. Waddel, an excellent " 
 
 " I'll not go," said Billy, crustily. 
 
 This was Bill's first indication, when sober, cf open revolt againut 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 57 
 
 the authority of his mother, and she met it with becoming spirit. 
 
 " Well, sir," said she, " I see you are getting too stout for my 
 government, and, therefore, I will turn you over to your uncle, and 
 see whether he cannot make you go. Now, sir, my word is out, and 
 you know I'll keep it." 
 
 " Ma," said William, in a subdued tone, " I'll go any where else 
 but to Mr. Waddel's school. Everybody says that he is the severest 
 man that ever kept a school. lie whips boys just for the fun of it, 
 for he laughs all the time he's doing it. You know Uncle David 
 hates me, and he'll put me there just to have me whipped." 
 
 " No, William, it is unreasonable to suppose that any man can 
 take pleasure in punishing his pupils. Mr. Waddel's school has a 
 high reputation, which it could not have if he were the man you 
 take him to be. Your uncle does not hate you ; but the town keeps 
 him constantly excited with reports "Tof your misdeeds, and, there- 
 fore, hs sometimes seems cross to you ; but he has a kin^ heart, 
 and desires nothing more than my happiness and your good. Oh ! 
 that I had followed his advice sooner!" 
 
 " Well, Uncle may take me to Mr. Waddel's, but he'll not keep 
 me there; for I'll run away and come home as soon as his back's 
 turned." 
 
 " That matter, sir, I'll leave to be settled between you and him." 
 
 Here William saddened and wept ; and his mother did likewise. 
 
 The next day the articles proposed were agreed to, without quali- 
 fication, save as to expenses of clothing and tuition, which were to 
 fall on the mother. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The articles of capitulation having been ratified, as mentioned in 
 the last chapter, the Captain was .inxious to set out immediately with 
 William, for Mr. Waddel's school ; but Mrs. Mitten declared that it 
 would be impossible to prepare a suitable outfit for her son, short of 
 a fortnight. " Remember," said she with a filling eye, "ray poor 
 child is going among strangers, where he will find none to make or 
 mend for him. He is to be gone at least five months, even if you 
 will permit him to come home in the vacation ; or if you will not, 
 then for a year, or it may be" — here Mrs. Mitten's swelling heart 
 stifled utterance. The Captain regarded her for a moment in silence, 
 in thoughtfulness, in petulance, in pity, and then said : " Well, if 
 there be a stranger thing on this green earth than, a woman, I should 
 like to know what it is — at least a woman with a smart, pretty, good- 
 for-nothing son. I thought if there was anything in this world that 
 I did know, it was my own sister; but I find that I know nothing 
 about her. A woman ! Let her be as good, as sensible, as amiable 
 as she may be, and give her a child, and forthwith her head is 
 turned topsy-turvey. She is as blind to her child's faults as a bat, 
 and she mistrusts everybody who is not as blind to them as she is. 
 I have come to the conclusion that a woman may have a soul before 
 she has a child, but never afterwards — that is, a sound one — a ra- 
 tional one. After that, all is impulse or instinct with her — at least, 
 in all that touches her off"spring. She may have a thousand proofs 
 that her indulgence is ruining her child, and she will indulge him 
 still. She will believe him before she will believe anyone else; 
 and when his iniquities stand broadly out before her face, she wiR 
 find an apology for them all. He is ' uii/ortimate/ or ' he has heen 
 tempted to vice hy had company' or ' he is slandered,' or ' he is the 
 victim of envy,' or 'prejudice,' or " 
 
 " Why, dear me, brother David, I don't see what I've said or done 
 to call forth this harangue." 
 
 " Why, you are talking and acting just as though I had taken your 
 child from you by force, and meant to afflict him in all forms pos- 
 sible. ^ U you\ will permit \iu\\ io come \\omQ in vacation, and if 
 not.' Do you suppose that I ever dreamed of keeping him away 
 from you during the holidays ? Do you suppose that I take charge 
 of him only to torment him 't" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 59 
 
 *' My dear brother, don't be angry with me. I had not the most 
 distant idea of offending you in what I said. I never questioned for 
 a moment your kindly feelings towards me and my child ; but have 
 Bome charity for a mother's love — foUj/, if you choose to call it so. 
 I never was separated from William a fortnight in my. life. He is 
 not torn from me, but he is taArn from me — with my consent — ne- 
 cessarily, I grant, but it is a sore necessity. He is to be carried 
 among strangers, to be treated, T know not how. If sick, to suffer 
 for a mother's care — at least for a time — perchance to die for the 
 want of it. Now, when all these things crowd upon a mother's 
 heart, is it wonderful that it should be depressed?" 
 
 " I am not angry with you, Anna, that is — I — believe I am not. 
 I know I don't wish to be; but I am amazed at your want of firm- 
 ness, your w^nt of resignation to necessities; your surrender of judg- 
 ment to feeling; your patience under present evils; and your dis- 
 tress at imaginary ones. 1 am alarmed at the intimations you 
 already give, of the speedy blowing up of our arrangement — not 
 from a breach of your pledge, but from your anxieties, 3'our griefs, 
 your fears, your yearning to bo with your son, which will leave me 
 no alternative but to re;^tore him to you, or to see you waste away 
 under their continual corrodings. I pray you nerve yourself up to 
 the exigencies of the case. That William can stay no longer here, 
 you know. That he is in the broad road to ruin here, I know, and 
 you ought to know. That he is getting beyond your control you 
 confess, and in a little time he will be beyond mine. Now, think of 
 these things, and let them reconcile you to apy unpleasant issues of 
 our new arrangement. Let this reflection quiet, or at least solace all 
 future anxieties about your son. ' ]t ix impossible for things to he 
 worse than thej/ are.' J^e cheerful, at least till evils come, and bear 
 them with fortitude when they do come." 
 
 Mrs. Mitten promised to do her best, and the Captain continued : 
 
 " Don't consume time in gathering up an extensive wardrobe 
 for your son. Let us get him o,at of this place as soon as possible ; 
 for he is rottiu'r here faster than a dead rat in Ausust " 
 
 " Oh, hrotlier ! How can you speak of your sister's child in that 
 way?" 
 
 " Well, I would have used a more delicate comparison, for your 
 sakf, ff I had thought of it; but as for IJill — however, get him 
 ready as soon as you can. A few changes of apparel is all that he 
 needs ; and let them be plain and stout. Waddel's school is in the 
 •woods, where nobody sees, and nobody cares how the boys are 
 
60 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 dressed. It is made up, I hear, principally of hardy rustic youths, 
 most of whom, probably, never had a broadcloth coat, a linen shirt, 
 or a pair of store-stockings on in their lives. If therefore, you send 
 your son among them, dressed out in fine clothes, you will expose 
 him to ridicule from his young companions, and to other petty an- 
 noyances, which will give him a distaste for the place even greater 
 than he now has. Better for you, and for him, that his clothing be 
 cheap, plain, and durable." Mrs. Mitten promised to get him ready 
 as soon as she could, and the Captain left her. 
 
 In the meantime, William behaved himself uncommonly well. He 
 was too much saddened by the prospect before him to relish either 
 amusements or books. He spent most of his time at homo in deep 
 despondency ; for as soon as it was noised abroad that William Mit- 
 ten was going to WadJel's school, th« reports of Waddel's severities 
 doubled in number, and quadrupled in exaggeration. Any one, to 
 have heard them, as passed among the young ones of the village, 
 might have supposed that he fried a pair of little boys for breakfast, 
 and roasted a big one for dinner every day. 
 
 William had heard these reports in all their vart'atious, and they 
 filled him with horror. His mother oflered him encouragements 
 with the tongue, but discouragements with the eye, every day, the 
 last, of course, neutralized the first. After twelve days of prepara- 
 tion, Mrs. Mitten informed her brother that William would be ready 
 to take his departure the next day. The Captain visited his sister 
 that night, to make all preliminary arrangements for the commence- 
 ment of the journey, early the next morning. He found the family 
 alone, for the hour of William's departure had been purposely kept 
 secret, to avoid the intrusion of visitors on this solemn evening. 
 They were all seated around the fiio silent and dejected. On the 
 candle-stand, by the mother's side, lay the family Bible open — ^^next 
 to her, in the order of their ages, sat the two daughters, and William 
 rested his drooping head upon the pillar of the mantle-piece. The 
 servants stood around, with their eyes fixed upon him, as if for the 
 last time. They had all just risen from prayers, hurried a little from 
 fear of interruption. The tears which from every eye had accompa- 
 nied the mother's devotion, had just ceased to flow. A death-like 
 silence reigned throughout the group, broken only by sighs more or 
 less heavy, as they rose from hearts more or less depressed. As the 
 Captain entered, all burst into tears afresh. 
 
 " What !" said he, with a. feigned indifference to the scene, which 
 he did not feel, " All this mourning at sending a little shaver to 
 school !" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 61 
 
 The Captain was not a religious man, but he was almost persuaded 
 to he a christian ; and the sight of his sister at prayer always inspired 
 hiin with an instinctive pliilosophy upon "souls/' much more im- 
 pressive, if not more rational, than the impulsive philosophy which 
 he had recently delivered. lie glanced his eye to the candle stand, 
 and took his scat in the circle as mute as the mutest. A minute or 
 more elapsed before another word was spoken ; and the first, to the 
 surprise of all, fell from William. 
 
 " Unc)o," said he, in a grief-stricken, faltering voice, "Uncle — 
 you can — save me — from going to Mr. Waddel's school, if you will. 
 It isn't too late yet — If you pleate, Uncle, don't send me there — 
 I'll go any where else in the world that you choose to send me, and 
 not complain. If you will only not send mc to that school, I never 
 will disobey you, or Ma again. I know I've dune wrong" — Here 
 the elder sister interposed, kneeling: "Oh, my dear Uncle, you 
 cannot, you will not, resist' that — no, your streaming eyes tell me 
 you will not — here on my knees before you, I beg you, I implore 
 you" — " And I, Uncle," said the younger, dropping by her sister's 
 side, " We both beseech you for our dear, our only brother. Why 
 Uiat school, in preference to all other schools in the world ? " 
 
 " Girls be seated !" said the Captain ; and they obeyed him. 
 
 A long pause in the conversation emboldened even the servants to 
 drop a word in William's behalf. 
 
 There was but one of the group who did not ; and she felt more 
 than all of them together. Under circumstances so trivial, no poor 
 heart over ran through such a hurricane of turbulent emotions in a 
 few short moments, as did hers. She had never seen her child so 
 moved by fear before. She had never seen him an iumble sup- 
 pliant before ; and now, it was to her substitute, not to her! She 
 had never heard ^h accents of humility and contrition from his 
 lips before. She^PS hardly ever bcfcrc seen the manly cheek of her 
 brother moistened with a tear, and never hoped to see it, by the elo- 
 quence of her boy. Long sinking hopqs rose buoyantly from the 
 scene before her ; she " would yet sec her first anticipations from her 
 gifted son fully realized "— " her brother's censures would soon be 
 turned into praises; his roughness, to kindness." Anxiety crowded 
 in upon hope — anxiety for the issue of her son's appeal. If suc- 
 cessful, " what then ? where then ?" Alarms pressed upon anxiety. 
 "If he is foiled in this appeal, will he ever make another — will he 
 not be driven to desperation ?" 
 
 All these conflicting emotions she bore with marvelous composure ; 
 
62 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 but when the first words of her brother's response fell upon her ear : 
 " God bless you, my dear, dear orphan boy !" her self command en- 
 tirely forsook her. She crossed her arms upon her Bible, dropt her 
 head upon them, cried " Amen ! and Amen 1" and sobbed convul- 
 sively, loud and long. 
 
 " God bless you, my dear, dear orphan boy," said the Captain, 
 " you are now in the right way, my son, and while you walk therein 
 your Uncle will be a father to you — he will love you, he will serve 
 you, he will do any and everything that he can, to make you happy. 
 If he deny you anything, be sure it is for your own good. And 
 now, if you or your Mother will tell me what other teacher I can 
 send you to, with any hope of having you well instructed, and your 
 morals well guarded, I will not send you to Mr. Waddel." 
 
 " Can't you send me back to Mr. Markham ?" 
 
 " Well, come, your Mother shall answer that question for me." 
 
 " In an evil hour, son, T vowed you should never go back to Mr. 
 Markham," said the mother. 
 
 "Well, Anna," continued the Captain, "in the present state of 
 things, I think you are released from that vow ; but supposing your- 
 self entirely released from it, would you be willing to keep William 
 longer in this town at any school ?" 
 
 " Well, as he is penitent, and promises amendment, if I could 
 feel myself free from my vow, I believe I would be willing to see 
 him return to Mr. Markham. But it is not worth while to discuss 
 this subject; I cannot feel myself released from my vow. It is 
 known all over the village, and nobody will believe you put him 
 there without my consent ; and every body will think I pretended to 
 turn William over to you, just to shuffle out of my vow. Be this as 
 it may, my conscience is involved in the matter, and 1 am not going 
 to expose it to any nice questions. If I err a|||kll, let me err on 
 the safe side. I therefore, give no consent to hiPgoing to Mr. Mark- 
 ham, and I would rather that you should not expose me to the sus- 
 picion of having given my consent to it." 
 
 " Well, William," resumed the Captain, " that door's closed. 
 Now, hear me, my son. Don't you remember how sorry you were 
 that I did not have my way with you when you were taken from Mr. 
 Markham ? Well, just so it will be by and by, if I do not have my 
 way with you now. You must get away from the bad boys of this 
 town. Haven't they often tempted you to do what you had fully re- 
 solved not to do?" 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITfEN. QS 
 
 " Now, I know you think you will never be led away by them 
 again, if I let you stay here ; but you will be as you have been. 
 You have been alarmed by false and foolish reports about Mr. Wad- 
 del's severity and cruelty. If they were true, his school could not 
 be as celebrated as it is. He could not have the number of scholars 
 he has. I am told he has largely over a hundred scholars, some of 
 them the sons of the first men in the State, and that thousands of 
 people from far and near attend his exhibitions. If 3'ou'll go there, 
 and get a premium (as I know you can, if you will,) it will be worth 
 having. It will be heard of in two or three States. Come, son, try 
 Uncle's advice this one time. All things are ready now-»-the time 
 appointed for us to go — if we let it slip, you'll be here doing nothing 
 and worse than nothing, for I know not how long. Cheer up, my 
 boy ; you can surely stand a school of such renown, and if you will 
 do your best, you will stand ah'ead of these big men's sons. Now, 
 what say you, sou ; will you go or not?" 
 
 "I'll go, Uncle," said William, with a promptness and a firmness 
 that astonished all present. 
 
 "That's a fine fellow," said the Captain. "I wouldn't take a 
 thousand dollars for my part in you, this day." 
 
 William's decision was conclusive upoo the family ; and the 
 Mother felt herself in duty bound not to disturb it by word, action, 
 or look. She therefore assumed to be pleased, though she was so 
 confident of William's entire and radical reform, from what had just 
 passed before her, that she would have preferred Markham to Wad- 
 del, if conscience had been out of the way. 
 
 " Anna," said the Captain, " Mary " (his wife,) " and the child- 
 ren will come over with me in the morning to bid AVillliam good-bye, 
 and Mary will spend the day with you. I shall be here with the 
 chaise, after an eayly breakfast, and let all things be ready." 
 
 The Captain had anticipated some sucFi .scene as that which he 
 had just passed through, and to lighten the burden of it, he would 
 not allow his family to accompany him that night. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The eventful morning came, and at an early hour Captain Thomp- 
 son's chaise was at his sister's door. His family had anticipated his 
 advent some eight or ten minutes. Tom came out to hold his horse, 
 while he went in. ''No, I won't light, Tom," said he. " Go and 
 bring out William's trunk, and let us be off, for we have no time to 
 lose." The Captain had no idea of witnessing the parting scene. 
 He waited and shivered for it was cold. " Come on, William, my 
 brave boy — come on; we've a long road and a bad road to travel;" 
 bawled out the Captain to the vacant entry. 
 
 No response came, but sobs and blowing of noses. 
 
 " Tom ! Tom !" cried the Captain. 
 
 Tom was waiting his turn to bid " mas' W^illiara " good-by, and 
 mingling his tears with those of the two- families, of course, he had 
 forgotten the trunk. The wind began to rise a little, and the Cap- 
 tain began to backslide rapidly from his conversion of the evening 
 before, 
 
 " John !" cried the Captain. No answer. 
 
 "Sal!" "Lotty!" "Nance!" 
 
 They were all around "mas' William;" nothing doubting but 
 that the saturnal of the preceding evening would be extended to the 
 catastrophe of the occurrence which produced it. The wind rose a 
 little higher, and the Captain's impatience rose a great deal higher. 
 At length, it gave way entirely; and, lighting from the vehicle, he 
 bolted into the mourning-hall, with a step, and a tongue, and a pas- 
 sion, exceedingly unbecoming the solemnities of the occasion, and 
 exceedingly opposite to his recent experience. The first object that 
 met his eye was Tom, repeating precisely the part he played the 
 night before, when the Captain was so much affected, i, e. with 
 swimming eyes, and mellowed heart, contemplating William. " You 
 black rascal," vociferated the Captain; " what do you stand sniveling 
 here for ? (John, go to my horse !") Didn't I order you to bring 
 out the trunk ?" 
 
 " Kigh, mas' David !" said Tom, retiring a little briskly; " Nig- 
 ger got feeling well as white folks !" You feel, too, sometimes." 
 
 " You impertinent scoundrel ! if you aint off for that trunk pretty 
 quick, I'll make you feel worse than white folks." 
 
 There was a lurking comparison in this reply of Tom, between 
 
MAgTBR WILLIAM MITTEN. 65 
 
 himself and " mas' David," decidedly tavorablc to himself; and a 
 plain intimation in it that he regarded the Captain as a clear case of 
 apostacy or inconsistency. But the Captain was in too great a hurry 
 to analyze, argue, or resent. " I Lave, been out there for a quarter 
 of an hour," continued he, "freezing, and bawling, and squalling 
 for every negro on the plantation, and not one could I find." 
 (^Exeunt blacks, as from patrol.) " I have now hardly time to reach 
 old Smith's, before night ; and to be caught in the night, on such 
 roads, will be awful. Anna, is William ready ?" 
 
 " Just a moment, brother, till I tie this handkerchief over his ears; 
 the weather's bitter cold." 
 
 While the Captain was awaiting this process, ten distinct thumps 
 from the stair-case fell upon his car, and then a harsh, raking sound 
 of terrible import, when Tom announced ; " Here's the trunk, mas' 
 David." The Captain turned, and beheld one of the biggest trunks 
 of th6 day. He ran to it and hrfted it, as the Yankees say, and 
 grunted furiously. 
 
 " Anna," said he, " that trunk can't go on the chaise — it's impos- 
 sible." 
 
 " It is the very smallest I could get to hold the boy's things, 
 brother." 
 
 " What have you got in it ?" 
 
 " Nothing, but William's clothes, and a few little nick-knacks." 
 " Well, you'll have to divide them, and put, them in two small 
 trunks — one to be'lashed on behind, and the other to go in the foot; 
 aid it's a pretty time to begin that work !" 
 
 The Captain was too snappish to be reasoned with ; so, by contri- 
 butions from the girls, the small trunks were soon furnished, and the 
 unpacking and re-packing commenced. 
 
 We will not detain the reader with a detail of the wardrobe. Suf- 
 fice it to say, that al'tcr stopping in tran^'dn three shirts, throe pair 
 ot stock^lgs, two under-shirts, one full winter suit, and two •ummer 
 suits, the Captain saw the two small trunks filled to their utmost ca- 
 pacity with hard pressing ; and yet there was a thin layer of clothing 
 on the ceiJing of the basement story of the large trunk ; we must 
 explain. Mrs. Mitten, with Tom's help had placed two blocks of 
 wood in the bottom of the trunk, upon which she laid a nice, clean, 
 thin white-pine board, that was so neatly adjusted to the measure of 
 the trunk, that it divided it into two apartments. The board was 
 lifted, and disclosed one pound cake, one dozen sugar-biscuite, one 
 ditto doughnuts, two pounds raisins, two ditto almonds, (shelled,) one 
 ditto prunes, with chinking of sugar-plums innumerable. 
 
66 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " Williara, son," said his motber, ''I reckon you'll have to leave 
 these ; I don't know how you can carry them." 
 ■ It seemed to be a hopeless case to all, hnd Bill surrendered with 
 a long deep sigh, which touched the Captain's heart a little; and 
 casting his eyes to William, who looked like a week's washing of 
 clothes piled together, he said, with a slight smirk : " There's' nothing 
 in the chaise-box but a snack, and a little bundle of under-clothing 
 for myself ; you can put as many of these things in that as it will 
 hold ; but be quick about it !" 
 
 This was refreshing. It was regarded as a full atonement for all the 
 petulance, impatience, and crustiness that the Captain had exhibited. 
 One of the girls bounced into the chaise ; and by the aid of the rest 
 of the company, she was soon enabled to stow away in the box a 
 goodly portion of all the varieties of nick-knacks just mentioned. In 
 the meantime the trunks took their places, the final kisses were dis- 
 posed of, and a minute more found the Captain and William on their 
 way. Nothing of special interest occurred on the journey. The 
 Captain gave William much encouragement and good advice, and 
 fretted a little at having to travel a half hour in the night to make 
 his first stage, but, as no accident occurred, he was easily reconciled 
 to it. Four o'clock the next day (Saturday,) found them at the 
 public house, or rather boarding house, of Mr, Nelson Newbj, Abbe- 
 ville District, South Carolina. It was a rude log-house, with two 
 rooms, about sixteen feet square each, and an entry nearly as large, 
 between them. In the rear of it was another building of the same 
 material, somewhat shortei* and narrower than the first. This was 
 the dining room. Six or seven small edifices of the same kind scat- 
 tered around, with little order, served as students' lodges. A rail 
 fence' (or rather the remains of one,) three feet high, enclosed the 
 whole. About twenty boys of various sizes, were busily engaged in 
 cutting, splitting, and piling wood, at the doors of their respective 
 tenements — the roughest looking set of students that ever fepeated 
 the notes of Homer and Virgil since the world began. The prospect 
 looked gloomy, even to the Captain, and terrific to William. 
 
 " Uncle," whispered he, '' these can't be big people's sons V 
 
 " Well — don't know — they're pretty rough looking fellows — but 
 — they seem to be very industrious boys." Poor comfort to William. 
 The Captain and his landlord, of course, soon became acquainted; 
 and the first expressing a wish to see Mr. Waddel, the last kindly 
 offered to escort him to the teacher's residence. 
 
 " It is not far out of the way to go by the Academy; would you 
 like to see it 'I" said Mr. Newby. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. &l 
 
 " Very much," replied the Captain. 
 
 They set forward, and at the distance of about two hundred and 
 fifty yards from Mr. NeAvby's premises, they entered a street, shaded 
 by majestic oaks, and composed entirely of log huts, varying in size 
 from six to sixteen feet square. The truth of history demands that 
 we should say, that there was but one of the smallest size just indi- 
 cated, and that was the whimsical structure of a very whimsical fel- 
 low, by the name of Dredzel Pace. It was endancercd from fire 
 once, and /o!//- stout students took it up by the corners, and removed 
 it to a place of safety. 
 
 The street was about forty yards wide, and its length was perhaps 
 double its width ; and yet the houses on either side did not number 
 more than ten or twelve ; of course, therefore they stood generally in 
 very open order. They were all built by the students themselves, or 
 by architects of their hiring. They served for study-houses iu cold 
 or rainy weather, though the students were allowed to study where 
 they pleased within convenient reach of the monitors. The common 
 price of a building, on front roic, water proof, and easily chinked, 
 was five dollars — the chinking was generally removed in summer for 
 ventilation. In the suburbs, were several other buildings of the 
 same kind, erected by literary recluses, we suppose, who could not 
 endure the din of the city at play-time — at ploi/-lim.e we say, for 
 there was no din in it in study hours. At the head of the street, 
 eastward, stood the Academy, differing in nothing from the other 
 buildings but in .size and the number of its rooms.. It had two; the 
 smaller devoted to a primary school of a few boys and girls, over 
 -which Moses Waddel Dobbins, a nephew of the Hector, presided. 
 These soon left, and Mr. Pobbins became assistant-general to his 
 uncle. . The larger, was the recitation room of Mr. Waddel himself, 
 the prayer room, court room,' (see ixfra) and general convocation 
 room for all matters concerning the school. It was without seata, 
 and just large enough to contain one hundred and fifty boys standing 
 erect, close pressed, and leave a circle of six feet diameter at the 
 door, for jigs and cotillons at the teacher's regular soirees, every 
 Monday morning. 
 
 A delightful spring gushed from the foot ol the hill on which the 
 ."chool-house stood ; and at the distance of but a few paces, poured 
 its waters into a lovely brook, which wound through a narrow plain, 
 covered with stately beeches. — Venerable old chroniclers of revered 
 njynes and happy days, where arc ye! — It was under the canopy of 
 these beautiful ornaments of the foreat, by the side of that whisper- 
 
68 MASTER WILLIAM MITOEN. 
 
 inor brook, that we felt the first gleam of pleasure that we ever de- 
 rived from anything in Latin. And here are the words Avhich 
 awakened it : 
 
 '' Tityre tu jmtulce rccuhans stih Ugminc fagi, 
 
 SilceBtrmi temti 7mmmi meditaris avenn." 
 Our party having taken a Hasty survey of these things bent their 
 way to Castle (Jarherrij. As they journeyed on, Mr. Newby pointed 
 out the ground over which Sam Shanklin and Mr. Y/addel had a 
 notable race. Sam had offended " Old Moses" (so he were called, 
 even in his prime which he had now hardly left,) and as the latter 
 approached him whip in hand, Sam, took to his heels, not dreaming 
 that old Moses would follow him. But he was mistaken ; he did 
 follow him, and gained upon him at every step, a little — Sam, find- 
 ing; his pursuer too fleet for him sought safety in lofty leaping ; so he 
 made for a brush heap. Just as he reached it, old Moses fetched 
 him a wipe upon the legs that energized his activity to unmatchable 
 achievement, and he cleared the brush heap at a bound. Here the 
 race ended. The Captain laughed heartily at the story ; but William 
 saw no fun in it. 
 
 Castle Carberry stood on the highway leading from Augusta, 
 Georgia, to Abbeville Court House, South Carolina, and about equi- 
 distant from Mr. Newby's and the Academy. By w^om it was 
 erected, we are not informed 3 probably, by Samuel Shields, an. as- 
 sistant of Mr. Waddel, who had occupied it for two years, previotis 
 to the time of which we are speaking, and who was just now gather- 
 ing up his goods and chattels for his final departure from the place, 
 and for a much more interesting engagement.* Its name was doubt- 
 less derived from Maria Roche's novel— ^TAe Children of the Ahhy, 
 which had a great run in that day ; but to tell wherein the two 
 Castle Carberry's were alike, would puzzle the greatest connuudrum- 
 solver that ever lived. Upon the retirement of Mr, Shields, Alex- 
 ander B. Linton succeeded to his pos.se.«sions, and James L. Petigru 
 to his office (not as some have most erroneously supposed, the Mr. 
 Pentigall, of the ' Georgia Scenes,') though it was in this very castle 
 that the great question was discussed : '' Whether at public elections 
 should the votes of faction predominate by internal suggestions or 
 the bias of jurisprudence 1" Mr. Petigru had been in Columbia 
 CoUce, a year or more before the discussion came off. 
 
 Some two or three students always boarded themselves at Castle 
 
 *He soon after married a young lady of Vienna. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 69. 
 
 Carberry. It served as a nucleus around which other edifices of like 
 kind and for like purposes galherod, all built of the common ma- 
 terial. We think its tenants were, in ISIittcn's day, Alex. B, Linton, 
 Henry Rasenel, Samuel Weir, and William D. Martin. 
 
 At Castle Carberry the promcnadcrs re entered the big road which 
 they had left atNewby's, having now seen all of Willi ngtonpro/xjr; 
 Willington common embraced every housj within three miles of the 
 Academy. As they entered the load, a messenger called for Mr. 
 Newby to return home on some special business. Ho gave the Cap- 
 tain directions to Mr. Waddel's, and returned. The directions were 
 simply to keep the road to the next house. A walk of a quarter of a 
 mile, or a little over, brought the Captain and his charge to the re- 
 sidence of the renowned teacher. It was a comfortable, framed 
 building, two stories high, neatly, but plainly paled in — very rare 
 things in that vicinity. 
 
 Some six or eight more boy.s, like the Newbyites, were differently 
 employed about the premises. 
 
 " Do you know, my son," said the Captain, addressing one of 
 them, " whether Mr. AVaddel is at hoine ?" 
 
 " Yes sir," said the youth, springing to the door, and opening it, 
 " Walk in, take seats, and I will call him." 
 
 He disappeared, and in a moment returned with Mr. Waddel. 
 
 " Mr. Waddel, I presume," said the Captain. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Thompson, sir, is my •name, and this is my nephew, William 
 Mitten, whom I have brought to place under your instruction." 
 
 "It is rather chilly, hero," said the teacher, shaking their hands 
 cordially, "walk into my study, where I have a good fire." Won't 
 you go in, David '(" added he to the guide, who was about retiring. 
 
 " No, I thank you, sir, said David. 
 
 " That's a sprightly youth," said the Captain, as he moved towards 
 the study, "and he is a namesake of mine." 
 
 " Yes," said the teacher, " he is a clever boy — the son of the cele- 
 brated Doctor Ramsay." 
 
 "What! Doctor Ramsay, the patriot, statesman, and historian — 
 who married the accomplished daughter of the renowned Henry 
 Laurens, President of the first Congress of the United States, Min- 
 ister to HoUnnd. and father of the gallant John I/aurfens, the beloved 
 of Washinjrton ?" 
 
YO MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 This was a clear Rphmjc^" for William's benefit. 
 
 " The same," said Mr. Waddel. 
 
 << Well I feel myself honored in bearing the boy's name. 
 
 Before this conversation ended, all were seated in the teacher's 
 study. It was crowded with books — partly the teacher's private 
 
 library partly, books laid in for the students which he furnished at 
 
 cost and charges on Philadelphia prices. 
 
 «' Have you studied Latin, WiUiam ?" enquired Mr. Waddel. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " How far have you gone ?" 
 
 "I was reading Virgil, when I quit school." 
 
 " Well, I have a large Virgil class, which will be divided on 
 Monday. I have found that some of them are keeping others baok; 
 and I have ordered them to get as long a lesson as they can for 
 Monday morning. Those who get the most and recite the best, will 
 be put in one class and the rest in another. No^v, you can take 
 either division of this class that you may be found qualified for, or 
 you may enter the Selectee class, which will commence Virgil in two 
 or three months. Meet me at the Academy on Monday morning, 
 and we will see what will he best.'' 
 
 " How many pupils have you, Mr. Waddel ?" 'inquired the Cap- 
 tain. 
 
 " About one hundred and fifty." 
 
 "Where do they board?" 
 
 " Just where they please, among the neighbors around. They all 
 take boarders, and roside at different mstanees from the academy, 
 yaryinti' from a few hundred yards to three miles." 
 
 «< Have the students to cut aad haul their own firewood, and make 
 their own fires ?" 
 
 " Not always. At some of the boarding houses the landlords 
 have tlrese things done for them, and at all, they may hire servants 
 to perform them, if they will, or, rather, if they can ; but, as 'at 
 every house there is at least a truck-v:agon and horse at the service 
 of the students, and wood is convenient and abundant, and to be had 
 without stint or cfiarge, they generally supply themselves, and make 
 their own fires." 
 
 During this coiiversation, which from the beginning to end, was 
 of the most alarming interest to WiWdam, his eyes wide open, were 
 fixed on Mr. W-addel, who was an object of still more alarming in- 
 
 * A splurge is a moral cavort. Both are embraced in the generic term, cutting 
 
 tJiines. Ga. Vocab. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 71 
 
 terest to hiiu. He had never secu — we have never seen — a man of 
 sterner features than Mr. Waddel bore. From the time that William 
 entered the house to the time that he leff it, "shadows, clouds, and 
 darkness " were gatherin<^ and deepening upon his mind ; relieved 
 only by one faint gleam of light from young Eamsay, whom he re- 
 garded as the concentrated extract of all that was august, and great^ 
 and gifted, and good in the United States, if not in the world ; and 
 an ample verification j^^r sr of all that his uncle had told him about 
 " big men's sons." 
 
 William was entered in due form a student of Mr. Waddel's 
 school ; and the Captain having enquired of the post office at which 
 the students received their letters, and pressed Mr. Waddel to give 
 him early information of William's conduct, standing, and progress, 
 he left with bis charge for Mr. Newby's. A long silence ensued. 
 x\t length it was broken by William. 
 
 " Mr. Waddel is the grummest looking man I ever saw." 
 
 "Pretty sour," said the Captain. '< But I don't reckon he is as 
 bad as he lopks to be. The boys seem cheerful around him ; and 
 David Eamsay seemed perfectly easy in his presence." 
 
 The truth is, the Captain was sore pressed for encouragements 
 himself, and it was the luckiest thing in the world for him that he 
 happened to fall in with young Eamsay just when he did. 
 
 " I had an idea," continued the Captain, "of proposing to Mr. 
 Waddel to take you to board with him ; but it occurred to me that 
 you might prefer to board somewhere else; and I am perfectly will- 
 ing to accommodate you in this matter." 
 
 " Uncle, I wouldn't board with him for five hundred thousand 
 dollars !" 
 
 *' Well, my son, I will not placo you with him. I think the best 
 way will be for you to board at Mr. Newby's, for the present. After 
 you become acquainted with the other boarding houses, you can take 
 your choice among them." 
 
 Silence ensued, which we fill up with a more particular account 
 of Mr. Waddel. As he was made a Doctor of Divinity soon after 
 the time at which we are speaking of him, we will anticipate a little, 
 and call him henceforth Doctor Waddel. 
 
 He was about five feet nine inches high ; of stout mu.scular frame, 
 and a little inclined to corpulency. In limb, nearly perfect. His head 
 was uncommonly large, and covered with a thick coat of dark. hair. 
 His forehead was projecting, and in nothing els« more remarkable. 
 His eyes were grey and overshadowed by thick, heavy eye-brows, al- 
 
72 MASTER WILLIAM MITl'fiN. >,. 
 
 ways closely knit in bis calmest hours, and almost ovcr-lapping in 
 his angry moods. His nose was bluntly acquiline. His lips were 
 rather thick, and generally closely compressed. His complesioa 
 was slightly adust. His iovt cnscmhle was, as we have said, ex- 
 tremely austere; but it was false to his heart; for he was benevolent, 
 affectionate, charitable, hospitable, and kind. He was cheerful, and 
 even playful, in his disposition. Good boys felt at perfect ease in 
 his presence, and even bad ones could, aud did, approach him with 
 the utmost freedom. He never whipt in a passion — indeed, he 
 seemed to be in his most pleasant moods when he administered cor- 
 rection, and hence, a stranger to him would naturally suppose that he 
 took pleasure in flogging. It was not-so, howe-ver. He hardly ever 
 whipt, but upon the report of a monitor ; and after a year or two 
 from Master Mitten's introduction to him, very rarely, but upon a 
 verdict of a jury of students. His government was one of touaking 
 " moral suasion;" but he administeied it in a new way. Instead of 
 infusing it gently into the head and heart, and letting it percolate 
 through the system, and slowly neutralize the ill humors with which 
 it "came in contact, he applied it to the extremities, and drove it 
 right up into the head and heart by percussion. He seemed to re- 
 gard vices as consuming fires, and he adopted the engine process of 
 extinguishing them. One would suppose that moral reforms, so 
 hastily produced could not bust; but we have living cases to prove 
 that they have lasted for fifty-three years, and are still fresh and vi- 
 gorous. It is a very remarkable fact that Doctor .Waddel never 
 flogged a boy for a deficient lesson. To be " turned off," as it was 
 called — that is, to have to get a lesson over a second time, was con- 
 sidered such a disgrace by the students, that if this did not cure the 
 fault, whipping, he well knew, would not. He would often mount 
 hia horse at eight o'clock at night, and visit the students at their 
 boarding houses. Sometimes he would visit them incognito^ and re- 
 count his observations the next da}' to the whole school, commending 
 such youths as he found well employed, and censuring such as he 
 found ill employed. And what were the fruits of this rigid but 
 equitable discipline ? From under the teachings of this man have 
 gone forth one Vice President, and many Foreign and Cabinet Min- 
 isters ; and Senators, Congressmen, Governors, Judges, Presidents, 
 and Professors of Colleges, eminent Divines, Barristers, Jurists, Le- 
 gislators, Physicians, Scholais, Military and Naval officers, innumer- 
 able. 
 
 Captain Thompson returned to Mr. Newby's. His- name had been 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 73 
 
 made known to the boys during his absence. One of them intro- 
 ■duced himself to hitii as the son of Doctor Hay, a near and dear 
 friend of the Captain, in times gone by. The youth was made ac- 
 quainted with ^yiIliam — ofi'ered him a part of his bed and study, 
 which were accepted. Before retiring to rest, the Captain paid a 
 hasty visit to William's new dormitory. lie found him at a table, 
 with three others, who were studying their leeson.s before a rousing 
 fire. They seemed very cheerful and happy. After a few questions, 
 bo withdrew, and left them to their studies. An early hour the 
 next morning found him on his way homeward. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Monday morning came, ahd Willi;im moved sadly to the Academy. 
 Soon the students of ever^' size began to pour in from every quarter; 
 and soon the whole school was in commotio*. George Cary had got 
 a thousand lines in Virgil ! He was to leave his ckss, of course.; for 
 such a lesson had never been heard of before, even in Dr. Waddel's 
 school, where the students seemed to take in Latin and Greek by ab- 
 sorption.* As his classmates came in, they compared notes^and not 
 one of them had got raore than tliree hundred Yuks. " I didn't get 
 but t\ro hundred and ten," said one ; " I didn't get but two hun- 
 dred," said another. " Well, I'm at the foot of all," said a third, " I 
 didn't get but a hundred and fifty; so I'm double distanced, and 
 left, of course." 
 
 William heard these reports with ovorwhclniing amazement. The 
 largest lesson he had ever recited was thiity-fivc lines, and the largest 
 he had ever heard of being recited was olic hundred. He had 
 been led to believe that his native village was the very focus of in- 
 tellectual illumination and mental vigor, and that he himself wa.s the 
 centre-beam of the focus. He did not suppose that Latin and Greek 
 were made for country folks at all, much less for poor folks; and be- 
 hold, there stood before him homespun,f Gilbo-shod, potato-fed chaps, 
 
 * George McDuffie .ifterwnrds overtof>t Gary, for lie recited twelve hundred 
 and twelve lines, in Ilorace, for a Monday nibrning's lesson. 
 
 } We give this name as it \v.a,s pronounced* Wo think it was spelled Gnille- 
 bou. lie was shoeinaker-f;cnor:il for tlio school, and one of the best that over 
 lived. The soles of his alioes wore about half an iiich tliicK', and the heels thrqa,- 
 quarters. The npper leather in exact proportion with the soles. In short, th^ 
 wore brogans in all respects, of the stoutest sort. It took them about a month 
 to show outward signs of an inward foot. Then they began to wrinkle down to 
 something like foot-shape; with only a tolerable greasing, they werb good for a 
 year, certain.* , 
 
74 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 
 
 even smaller than himself, who had mastered one huudred and fifty 
 lines in Virgil, acknowledging themselves the fag-end of their class, 
 and " double distanced !" His .mind was immediately made up to 
 take the se/ec^asclass/mortifying as it was to a gentleman of his calibre 
 to have it known at home that he had retrograded ; but could he 
 keep up with this class? He had little hope of doing so; but so 
 shocking was the idea of falling two classes below his home stand, 
 that he resolved to try it at all events. He had one consolation, at 
 least, and that was, that none of the school-boys knew of his advance- 
 ment before he came hither. Withal, he concluded that there must 
 be a something about Doctor Waddel's rschool that made all the boys 
 who came to it smart, and whatever that something might be, he surely 
 would catch it in a short time. The Doctor soon made his appear- 
 ance ; and William signified to him his choice of classes. 
 
 The school was summoned to prayer, and at the conclusion of this 
 service the monitors' bills were handed in, and the dancing room 
 cleared. The Doctor read over to himself the bills, with an afi'ected 
 seriousness, while a death-like silence reigned around him ; his coun- 
 tenance meantime assuming all varieties of expressions. It was very 
 easy for .those well acquainted with him, to collect from these indica- 
 tions the general character of the bills in hand; and the signs this 
 morning were of things grave, novel, funny and common. 
 
 The reading finished, the Doctor began : " Pretty heavy bills ! 
 some things new even to me. Garrett Sandige, go and get the 
 change to settle ofiF these bills, and see that it is such as has the 
 genuine ring !" To a correct understanding of the first case on the 
 docket, it is necessary to premise a little. John Freeman had beea 
 exalted for the first time to the dignity of Monitor on the preced- 
 ing week, and he had over-acted his part a litttle; he was rather too. 
 vigilant and authoritative. 
 
 To economise time, while Garrett Sandige was collecting the 
 change, the Doctor sounded the docket in a humorously emphatic and 
 pompous style : 
 
 Austm B. -Over street, for heivg idle repeatedly! What say you,. 
 Austin ?" 
 
 '* I deny it, sir," said Overstreet. 
 " Monitor, speak!" 
 ♦" Doctor Waddel, almost every day in the week he follows me aU 
 about with his Greek grammar in his hand, and goes on in this way : 
 tupto, tvpteis, tuptei, (of all the monitors) tupteton, trtptetov, (that I 
 ever saw in my life) tuptonien, tuptete, (John Freeman takes the 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 75 
 
 lead) tupto-usi, (rather rousy.) I told him I'd spunh him, (report 
 him) if he didn't quit it, and he wouldn't, so I spunked him." 
 
 During th'ese pleadings the Doctor's face put on all sorts of expreg- 
 sionS ; to maintain the dignity of the Monitor's character, it was of 
 the first im^portance that he should hear him with the profoundest 
 respect and gravit'y; and-yet there was something so novel and farci- 
 cal in this case, that he could with difficulty suppress open laughter. 
 He drew his eyebrows to their closest, pressed his lip§ forcibly to- 
 gether for a moment, and then passed judgment : 
 
 "This is a new case — I confess it perjilexes me not a little. It 
 seems to be a case in which study and idleness are so equally aad in- 
 timately blended, that you can't hit idleness without at least grazing 
 s(vd^, nor indulge stud^t/ without indulging idleness. If, as soon as 
 Overstrcet began to make up his compound, you had informed me, 
 Mr. Monitxir, of his experiment, I could have given you a recipe that 
 would have precipitated the feculent matter so entirely from the pure, 
 that we might have dealt with it this morning without danger sf dis- 
 turbing the pure; but as it ife, with no antecedent law to meet such a 
 case, and under the maxim thin it is best to err on the safe side— tha 
 side of mercy — if we err at all, 1 will let the matter pass for this 
 time; but if you come up again, Austin, with such a mixture of 
 Greek and English in the presence of a monitor, I'll teach you the 
 first future tense of your Greek verb in such a style that you'll never 
 think of mingling English with it again while you live, unless it be 
 the true English." * 
 
 Before this case was disposed of, Sandige had returned with about 
 a half dozen hickories beautifully I rimmed The Doctor took one, 
 drew it through his left hand, found it kuotless, gave it an experi- 
 mental flourish, liked the ring, and proceeded : 
 
 " Garrij-Osko- Sapling, for being idle repeatcdli/ .'" 
 Garry stepped into the ring without defence. 
 
 The Doctor gave him one cut and paused — " Garry," paid he, very 
 good humoredly, " that doesn't sound right. My ear don't often de- 
 ceive me." So saying he stooped down and raised up the pants of 
 the left leg, pulled down the stocking, and discovered a tasteful and 
 most artistic binding of the calf and its appurtenances, with long 
 narrow strips of old shirt. The Doctor manifested not the least sur- 
 prise at this, but very deliberately commenced unwinding. At ab(jpt 
 every yard detached, he would pause and look up to the school with 
 an expression of countenance which'-Bccmed to say, "boys needn't try 
 to fool me." Having unrolled about four yards and a half of swath- 
 
76 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN, 
 
 ing from this leg, he proceeded to the other, and did the like. Dur- 
 ing the whole process the school was a roar of laughter, and few 
 laughed more heartily than Garrj himself. Having returned the 
 stockings and pants to their places, " let us have fair play, Grarry," 
 said the Doctor ! " Fair play is a jewel. Now stockings are fair, 
 and pants arc fair, thick or thin. If I can't get through thorn, why, 
 that's my fault, not yours." So saying, he let Garry have the re- 
 maining six with a brilliancy that fully compensated for tho lost 
 pleiad. • 
 
 "Why, Neddy, this is an awful account for one week. Monitor, 
 are any of these charges upon your own observation but the first ?" 
 
 " None, sir. They are all by order of the boys whose names are 
 to them." 
 
 '' Explain, James Freer, what is meant by knocking hy your nose." 
 
 '' He came by me, and struck his fist as hard sis he could, as close 
 to my nose as he could drive it to miss my nose." 
 
 " Did you tell him to quit ?" 
 
 " Ye.s, sir." 
 
 "And did he afterwards repeat the blow?" 
 
 '' No, sir, but he went knocking byllie noses of twenty boys in the 
 same way," 
 
 " How wa."! your case, Thomas Murray?" 
 
 "Exactly the same as Jim Freer's, sir," 
 
 "What have you to .«ay to all this, Neddy ?" 
 
 "Why, Doctor Waddel, I was just playing with them. I quit as 
 
 soon as I ^aw they didn't like it. None of the other boys got mad 
 at it," 
 
 "And what's your case, Malory Ilivers?" — Malory was the small- 
 est boy in school, save one. 
 
 " He come up to me, sab — be came up to me, sah — an' he put his 
 face mos' touchiu' mine, and he opened his mouth and eyes jus' as 
 wide as he could stretch 'em — putti'n cut bis arms over me, too, like 
 he was tryin' to scare me." 
 
 " What do you say to that, Brace ?" 
 
 " I just did it for a little fuu — I Wanted to see what he would do — 
 and I got the worst of it, too, for he butted me on the nose, and I 
 didn't set him down for it." 
 
 " Did you butt him on the nose, Malory ?" 
 
 " T give liim a little butt." 
 
 •"Oh well, the case is easily settled; if you take justice into your 
 own hands, you mu.s.t not appeal to roe, I regard a little butt full pay 
 for 2ihig look." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM illTTEN. 77 
 
 ''And what luivc*yriu to say, James Collier, against the defendant? 
 'Plaguing with a dead cat' is a new offence. Explain \" * 
 
 "lie took along forked stick," said.Colliev, " and stuck an old 
 dead cat's neck ou it, and swung her up by the head, and swung the 
 stick on his shoulder, and went all about among the boys like he 
 did'nt see 'em, stiukiu' 'em up. Sometimes he'd meet a boy, and 
 when he got close up to him, he'd wheel off another way, as if he 
 just thought of something, and swung the dead cat by 'em almost 
 touch'n 'em. I, and Andrew Govan, and Jim Tinsley, and Sam 
 McGraw, and Alfrcil Hobby, were talking, and I saw Brace coming 
 with his cat, and I hollo'd to him and .said : ' Now, Brace, I've seen 
 you scatter two or throe parcels of boys with that cat ; and if you 
 come here with it, i'U spunk you. lie pretended he did'nt hear 
 what I said, and kept coming up, asking me all the time whatlsaiii; 
 and he knew what I said well enough. All the other boys run, but 
 I wouldn't run; and h'o comes to me, and says: ^.Timmcy, I've 
 been hunting all over the school to find somebody t© help me bury 
 this poor cat : but they are the hard-heartedest set of boys that I 
 ever saw ; wont you help me, Jimmey?' So without saying any- 
 thing to him, I went off and spunked him ; and just as I started off 
 he turned round ns quick as he could, *and whirled his cat almost 
 all rouni me. And 1 don't "b'liete there's another boy in the world 
 that could have stood that cat as long as he did, just to have his fun 
 out of the other boys." 
 
 • " What do you say to all this, Neddy ?" 
 
 " Doctor Waddel, twenty boys will tell you I did ai«k them to go 
 with me to bury the cat. I don't think Jim Collier had a right to 
 order mc away from the ofher boys he wa,'^ talking to. If he didn't 
 like the cat ^d ray company, why didn't he go off as the other boys 
 did ? fhcy all thought the cat smelt bad, but it didn't. It didn't 
 smell one bit." Here the Doctor opened his eyes, and showed signs 
 of light which materially changed the aspect of the case. It imme- 
 diately flashed upon his mind, that the weather had been very cold 
 for a week, and that, perchance, the cat was not offensive. 
 
 "James," continued he, "did you smell the cat ?" 
 
 " I didn't st^iy long enough to smell it." . 
 
 " But you say he whirled it round you as you went off: did you 
 smell it then ?" 
 
 "I think I would have smelt it if I hadn't held my breath." 
 
 " Doctor AVaddcl," said Brace, " he couldn't have smelt it to save 
 
 his life. Call every boy he says I went to with it, and not one of 
 
 them will say that he smelt it." 
 
78 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 • A- number of witnesses were called, and not one testified that 
 lie pmelt the cat. Most of them had kept outjof smell of it; some 
 held their noses j and others, by whom it had been whipt, remem- 
 bered nothing about it. , 
 " The case is certainly wonderfully changed," said the Doctor. 
 '' Had a single witness testified positiyely that he smelt thft eat, I 
 would not have held you altogether guiltless, Brace ; not that I deny 
 your right- to shoulder as many dead eats as you please, and to carry 
 them where you please, prorided you do not push yourself, with 
 your charge, into the company of others, and to their annoyance. 
 But you have no right to constrain a student to leave his company, 
 .or his place, or to endure a stench. As to your pretending to want 
 help to bury the cat, I understand all that perfectly ; you wanted no 
 such thing." 
 
 " What have you to say, Grilbert Hay, against Brace ?" 
 '' He threw a lightwood knot on my foot, on purpose, and hurt it 
 so that I haven't got over it yet." 
 '' Why did you do that. Brace ?" 
 " I declare. Dr. Waddel, I didn't mean to drop h on his foot." 
 
 " Yes you did, sir " 
 
 " Address me, Gilbert — not him," said the Doctor. 
 " Well, Doctor Waddel, he kept carrying his lightwood knot 
 about among the boys, and as soon as he'd come near one, he'd pre- 
 tend to let it slip off hie shoulder, and pretend to be tryiag to catch 
 it; and halloo, 'take care oi your toes — I can't told it,' and let it 
 fall right by the boy's foot, just to m»ke him jump. He did two ©r 
 three boys so, 'fore he came to me, and whea he came to me, he let 
 it fall on my foot, sure enough." 
 , " Is all this so, Neddy ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but he shows himself I didn't go to do it." 
 " No, sir, ' you didn't go to do it,' but you went to do what you 
 knew was very apt to do it. So if James Freer, or Thomas Murray, 
 had happened to lean suddenly forward, or been accidently pushed 
 forward just as you were striking by their noses, he would have got 
 a very severe blow ; and you wouldn't have went to do that, either. 
 You have no right to sport with the feelings of others, for your fan. 
 So I'll give you a little for your nose-fun, and two or three littles for 
 your foot-fun, and the usual price of idleness unrepeated." 
 
 Ned had a pair of breeches which he called his Monday morning 
 breeches. They were very full in the legs — trousers, in fact. In 
 their natural position, they hung tangent to the calves of his legs, or 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 79 
 
 nearly so ; but, by catohiug- them near the nips, and pulling them 
 backward, and a little upward, they pressed tight upon the shins, 
 and swung entirely clear of the calves, by at least an inch. Ned 
 had acquired such skill in directing the plaj of these trowsers, that 
 he had brought hia calves through several penal Mondays almost, or 
 entirely, intact. He knew the velocity of the switch, and he gave 
 his twitch just at the instant of its reaching the Icgj and at the 
 crack, hands off ! the pants were back to their place. 
 
 Ned stent into the ring, and received the first cut with his usual 
 success. It was a clear flash. The Doctor, without pausing, went 
 through the motions of the second, but arrested it in its descent, and 
 saw, with a smile, the pants fly back to receive it. " I thought,"' 
 ' said he. " that lick made a false report. IIow was that done, Ned- 
 dy ? Tou keep your hands a little too much-akimbo for the occa- 
 sion. Hands off, and fair play, Neddy ! Big breeches are perfectly- 
 fair ; but no pulling !" The remaining nine told (as an officer said 
 of a park of artillery in battle,^ " with beautiful effect !" 
 
 David Murrai/, for throicuij a chew of tobacco in James Nephew's 
 eye I 
 
 David, commonly called Long David, was the tallest, and, lor his 
 height, the slimmest student in the school. He stood full six feet in 
 his stocking. 
 
 " How w.as that, David ?" said the Doetor. 
 
 " He asked me," said David, "to throw him down a chaw o' to- 
 bacco, and I done it, and it hit him in the eye." 
 
 '< Where were you, David ? Where did you throw it down from ?" 
 
 '^ I wasn't anywhere, sir. Because I am tall, all these little fellows 
 are constantly running up to me, and askin' mc to throw 'em down a 
 chaw o' tobacco, jus' like I was 'way up in a tree." 
 
 "Well, David," said the Doctor, chuckliiig in spite of himself, 
 " if a boy asks you to throw him down ' a chaw o' tobacco,' I don't 
 think you arc responsible for where it falls." 
 
 *' What I" the reader may be disposed to ask, '-did he ever whip 
 grown up young men ?" Not within oar recollection, because wc 
 never knew but one who rendered himself liable to this kind of cgr- 
 rection, and that one left the school in quick time after the comniis- 
 'sion of his offence ; but tradition said that he had done that tiling 
 and he used to flourish his hickory with graceful, but terriGc vigor of 
 arm, when a little fretted with matters and things in general, and 
 thunder forth, "I'll whip you, sirs, from Robert Petiigrcw down to 
 
80 MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 James Scriven, hicluni^." The first ^7as tbe largest, the last the 
 smallest student in tke school. 
 
 A number of other cases, besides those mentioned, were disposed 
 of > but there was nothing remarkable in them. They were chiefly 
 cases of idleness in which judgment was confessed; but the sessions 
 closed with a case of contempt of court, which deserves to be re- 
 ported, first, because it is the only case of the kind, we believe, that 
 ever occurred during the instructorship of Doctor Waddel; and, 
 secondljy, because it shows how he disposed of cases which demanded 
 immediate notice, but which he could not visit with the usual penalty, 
 without violating his fixed rule, never to flog in a passion. The 
 last case oh docket was just disposed of, when something that the 
 Doctor said or did, now fiargolten, led Brace to exclaim pretty rudely, 
 '^Doctor Waddel. tlnnt's imrtial!" "What, sir!" thundered the ■ 
 Doctor from a hurricane countenance. He paused a second—then 
 dropt the switch he had in his hand, and seizing Ned by all the ap- 
 parel that covered his breast, he shook him tremendously. He lifted 
 him high and sat him down emphatically, but not injuriously. He 
 now waltzed him round the ring in the quickest possible time. He 
 then made a path with him, five fe«t deep, through the boys — brought 
 him back with a double-jerk — took anothe;,r turn with him as before, 
 and dismissed him at the door with a push that sent him off at a " half 
 Jiammo7iJ." As soon as the impetus had spent itself, Ned stopt, 
 looked back, looked up, looked around, like a man in dclirum tremms, 
 and then set off at a tip-toe, at a nither brisk gait, like one creeping 
 to catch a butterfly, and discoursing, as he went, in a sort of half whis- 
 per: ^^Tlie man's mad! The ma-a-iis tmul! He's made me dnmk, 
 turning m-e round. If I didn't think he'd kill me, I'll never hudge!" 
 
 The morning's exercises were exceedingly interesting to Master 
 Mitten, of course, and he was allowed half a day to muse upon them; 
 'for he was without the text book of his class, and could not be sup- 
 plied uttil Doctor Waddel went home to his dinner. The forenoon 
 of the day was employed chiefly in taking observations of the cos- 
 tumes, manners, and conduct of the boys; but part of the time was 
 spent with young Hay and^ three of his classmates, with whom he 
 studied during that day. They construed alternately a sentence 
 albud, and if the version of the reader was corrected by some one of 
 the listeners, it was considered as properly rendered, anS adopted by 
 jrll. Occasionally, a dispute would arise between them as to the case 
 of a noun, the mood and tense, of a verb, or the application of some 
 rule of syntax, and the dispute was invariably settled by an appeal 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEX. 81 
 
 to the grammar, which each one kept always by him in stiulyiivii; his 
 lessons. Herein, ho found one clue to a solution of the mystery 
 whicli.had astonished liiin so, at the opening of school — the prodigi- 
 ous lessons which the boys recited — and before the next day he dis- 
 covered another which solved the mystery entirely ; it was, that the 
 very idlest of the bojs studied twice as nuich as any school-boys he . 
 had ever seen. In the afternoon his sclectiv; was furnished him, and 
 he set in regularly with his class, lie begged to be excused i'rom 
 reading in his turn, as the author was new to him. He was indulged; 
 and thus h^ was virtually carried over his first lesson. One reading 
 of it, to him, was enough to make him as j^erfect in it as any in the 
 class, and consequently he recited it creditably. He had hardly con- 
 cluded his first recitation, when the signal for evening prayer was* 
 given ; the students were assembled, prayer was lield, and they were 
 dismissed for the night. Thus ended the most terrific day of Wil- 
 liam's pupilage. We have been particular in giving its history, not 
 only for its effect upon Masto^ Mitten, but that the reader might have 
 a practical exhibition of Doctor Waddel's government. Terrific as 
 the Jay was to William, it was the first of a long series of days preg- 
 nant with good luck. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1?Y reason of detention at the river, and an accident to his Tchicle 
 on the w«y, Captain Thompson did not roach home until near eight 
 o'clock on Monday night; and at his request the tidings of his return 
 were kept from his sister until the next morning. As soon as they 
 reached her, .she hastened over to him, to hear his report from Dr. 
 Waddel's school. "How did you find things, brother ?" said .she; 
 "I hope you got a good boarding-house, and a comfortable room for 
 William this cold weather; and that before you left, you . ■'aw him 
 well provided with bedding, fire-wood, and all the other little conve- 
 niences that he needs; for you know he has no idea of providing for 
 himself Did he seem satisfied with his new Pcho«l ? What sort of 
 a man is Mr. Waddcl ? Is he. a,s severe a man as he is repre.'^ented 
 to her' 
 
 '• IJless mc, Anna 1" said the Captdn. "What time liavc I had 
 to pieparc answers for all these questions? I got there at four 
 o'idock on Saturday afternoon . and left a little after sunrise on Sun- 
 day, so tliHt I had no time to learn much about Mr. Waddel or his 
 sclioolf Oh, Anna, who do youUhink was the first boy I got ac- 
 
82 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEX. 
 
 quainted with there ! David Rainsay, son of Doctor Kamsay, who 
 married Miss Lauiens, daughter of Henry Laurens, President of the 
 first Congress, and Minister to Holland, fle seemed to be very well 
 satisfied there — quite cheerful and happy — fine boy." 
 
 " Couldn't you have got William into a room with him ?" 
 
 '• Well— I didn't try— he boards with Mr. Waddel, and I 
 thought " • 
 
 " Oh ! brother ! I wish you had placed him with young Ramsay, 
 immediately under Mr. Waddel's eye. I should have no fears, then, 
 of his getting into bad habits." 
 
 " Well, he can board there yet, if ho wishes to, for I only paid his 
 board at Mr. Newby's for one quarter, and I told him to visit the 
 , other boarding houses and select the one he liked best, and I would 
 place him at it. I am determined to ^lake him just as comfortable 
 and happy as I caii, at Mr. Waddel's. His room-mate is a son of 
 our old friend, Di. Hay, of Washington — nice youth — fine school, 
 I've no doubt— one hundred and fifty scholars ! Industrious, hearty 
 looking fellows, of all sizes ! Willington is the finest town in the 
 world, for boys. Anna, I'm a little pressed with business ttis moxn- 
 ing ; come over another time, and we will talk the matter over more 
 leisurely." 3» saying, he retired. 
 
 '' Sister Mary," said Mrs. Mitten to Mrs. Thompson, '-did brother 
 David give you any of the particulars of his trip to M;-. Waddel's? 
 Did he tell you how William liked the school and his teacher ?'' 
 
 " No," said Mrs. T. ; "I asked him how Wilham liked tl^e school, 
 and he said he hadn't seen the school, when he came away. I asked 
 him how he liked Mr. Waddel, pud he said William thought Mr. 
 Waddel a very grum looMng man ; but that he had had no opportunity 
 of getting acquainted with him before he loft. But he (Mr. Thomp- 
 son,) said that it seemed to him that the man and the place were 
 made for William — that Willington was the most quiet, peaceful little 
 village he ever saw; in a healthy region, with delightful water, 
 beautiful study-grounds — industrious, hard-working, orderly boys, 
 &G., &c." 
 
 '' Sister Mary, you may depend upon it, brother David was disap- 
 pointed in the school, or William is dissatisfied with it, or both are 
 dissatisfied with the teacher, or the board, or sometLing else, or he 
 would not put us off" Avith these general remarks. As sure as you're 
 born, there is something there that he knows will not please me. If 
 all had been to his liking and mine, he wouldn't have waited for 
 questions from me, knowing my solicitude about the boy. He .would 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 83 
 
 have i^poJt-en in raptures about every tliiug. How agreeably disap- 
 pointed William had beeu — what a charming fiimiiy, and "what com- 
 fortable quarters he had got in— what an accomplished, agreeable, 
 fascinating man Mr. "Waddel is, &c., &c. What is the use of his 
 trying to conceal these things from nio'? As soon as I get a letter 
 from William, he will tell mo all about them, and brother David had 
 as well let me know about them at once." 
 
 " No, sister Anna, he cannot be dissatisfied with the teacher or the 
 school, as is plain from what he has said to both of us. I reckon 
 the living is rather rough up there, for he said it was the cheapest 
 board that he ever paid. Just think oi" it, sister Anna; ten dollars 
 a month for board, washing, lodging, and firewood ! The kindest 
 man in the world couldn't supply boys with dainties at these rates. 
 And all this without making any allowance for damage to room, fur- 
 niture, bedsteads, bedding, breaking window glasses, plastering, and 
 the like, which is sure to occur ir students' rooms ; tor boys are 
 certain to get into romps and frolics at times, and then everything 
 flies before them. Now, I reckon husband found the boys' fare very 
 plain at Mr. Newby's, and thought, maybe, that it would distress you 
 to know this fi?ct, as William has never beeu used to such living. 
 As for accomplished, agreeable, fascinating school-masters " 
 
 " Well, sister Mai-y, it may be soj 1 hope it is no worse. Learn 
 all you can about the school from brother David, and report to me. 
 Good morning !" 
 
 Mrs. Mitten went home, and immediately addressed to her son a 
 letter, wherein, aiiiong other things, ?he said '' As yet, I have learned 
 but very little about the school or your teacher Irom your uncle; but 
 as he seemed to think it promises every thing good to you, I ouf>ht to 
 be satisfied. I have always been under the impression that Mr. Wad- 
 del's school was in the woods, but your uncle informs us that it is in 
 the lovely, quiet little village of Willington. I have looked for it on 
 the map of South Carolina, but . cannot find it put down there. 
 Now, I charge you. my dear boy, not to be running about the streets 
 of nights, to the di.?turbance of the villagers. You are now, thank 
 
 Heaven ! away from the G boys, and I hope you ne^ cr will 
 
 again fall into suck company. I am happy to learn that you have 
 had the go»d fortune to become the room-mate of Dr. Hay's son. It 
 is a long time since we had the pleafcure of the Doctor's .society, but 
 we nevef can forget it, and we take it for granted that the sou of such 
 a man must be all that a son should be. Rut even the best boys will 
 occasionally haye their romps and frolics, and then they arc very apt 
 
84 MASTKR WILLIAM MITl'EN. 
 
 forget their duty to their hostess. I do not forbid you these little 
 pastimes ; hut I strictly evjoin it upon you, if they occur in your 
 room, and any injury results to bed, bedding, bureau, table, wash- 
 stand, basin, pitcher, looking-glass, -window-glass, or any thing else, to 
 go immediately to Mr. Newby^^and insist upon his charging the whole 
 damage to yon, assuring him that I will j)ay it promptly and cheer- 
 fully. ^0 cheap is the board, that I know he cannot afford to bear 
 tJje expense of breakage. 
 
 " There is another thing upon wliich I would repeat a caution al- 
 ready given you; you will often be applied to, as you have been, to 
 carry some of your lets gifted schoolmates over their lessons. Do 
 these little kindnesses for them cheerfully, and for the honor of your 
 name, do not think of charging or receiving anything for them. 
 Study neatuess and cleanliness of person. Before you left nie, I told 
 you to change your liuen every day, but as the number of your shirts 
 were reduced at your departure, and more especially in mercy to 
 Jlrs. Newby's wash-woman, and her mistress, I will revoke that order, 
 and say to you, change only three times a week. Eat icJuit in set he- 
 fore yoUi ashiiH) no questions." 
 
 Mrs. Mitten added a. great many other wise and pious counsels, 
 but as they would be of but little interest to the reader, we suppress 
 them. She concluded her letter, folded it, addressed it to " Master 
 'William Mitt,-n, Willingtou, Abbeville District, South Carolina," 
 and sent it to the post office. As there was no post oiBee at that time 
 in Willingtou, the letter went to Abbeville Court House, where it re- 
 mained three weeks from its date before it was called for. At the 
 end of that time it was reported to Dr. Waddel, who toak it from tke 
 office, and the same day delivered it to William. 
 
 Three days passed away before Captain Th(;)mpson found it con- 
 venient to give his sister a ci^cum,stantial detail of matters and things 
 at Willingtou ; and on the fourth he .'■et out for Augusta on business 
 of importance. As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Mitten called on his 
 wife. 
 
 "Sister Mary," said she. "have you picked up anything from 
 brother David about Willingtou ?" 
 
 " Not a word, sister Ann. He's always too busy, or too sleepy, to 
 talk upon this subject. Whenever I ^jring it up, like old Jenkins in 
 the Vicar of W^akefield, with his one sentence of learning, he begins 
 to run on about young Ramsey, aa he did to you, but with this dif^ 
 ference : that he was serious when he delivered his harangue to you^ 
 and he chuckles every time he repeats it — or begins to repeat it — to> 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 85- 
 
 me. I believe you are right, sister Anna; there is something aboni 
 Mr. Waddcl's school which he doesn't wish us to know ; and as for my 
 part, he may keep it to himself till doomsday, lor anght I care; I 
 shall ask him uo more about it." • 
 
 '' Well, sister Mary, he can't keep us long in suspense, for I have 
 written to William, and I shall get a letter iVom him in a week or so 
 that will explain everything." 
 
 At Augusta chance threw Captain Thompson and Thomas M. 
 Gilmer in the same room of a public house, for two nights. They 
 were n)ade acquainted, and among various other topics rf conversa- 
 tion. Doctor Waddcl's school came upon the tapis. " That jgjihool," 
 said Mr. Gilmer, "just fills my notion of what a boy's school ought 
 to be. Plain dressing, plain eating, hard working, close studying, 
 close watching — and, when needful, good whipping." 
 
 " You are well acquainted with the school, then." 
 
 *' Well, not so much from my own observation as from what my 
 boys and my neighbors' boys tell me; for I'm so clumsj', as you sec, 
 that I go no where but whore I'm obliged to; but every body says 
 the same thing about the school — that it is the best school in the 
 United States." 
 
 " Mr. Waddel is said to be very severe with his pupils." 
 
 ''I reckon not. No doubt, if they don't walk straight he gives 
 them the timber, as he ought to do ; but all his scholars that I know 
 like him very much, and they seem to consider all other schools as 
 very small affairs, compared with his." 
 
 Captain Thonipson^ter making a^sufficient apology for his in- 
 quisitiveness, fished out of Mr. Gilmer that Governor Mathews had 
 three or four grandsons at Doctor Waddcl's. That Senator Bibb had 
 two brothers-in-law there — that Congressman Early had a bruther 
 there — that Judge Tait had a son there. That Congressman Meri- 
 wether (David) had a son there. And before the Captain left Au- 
 gusta, he learned that Senator, Governor Milledge had a nephew 
 there. And last, (and best known of all, among men,* women, and 
 children, throughout the State,) that William J.* HoWby had a son 
 there. This gentleman was the Editor of the Augusta Herald, and 
 in the use of all the implements of editorial warfare unsurpa-ssed by 
 any journalist of his day. A story was current about this time, that 
 a lady, expressing a wish to a female friend to have her infant daugh- 
 ter bear the greatest name in the world — " name her," said the 
 friend, " William ./. JIubby." Should the reader be disposed to 
 enquire how Mr. Gilmer came to know so many of the grandee pa- 
 
86 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 trons of Dr. Waddel's school, we answer, that he was connected by 
 blood, or marriage, with all but two of them; and one of the two 
 lived in the same county with him, was as intimate with him as a 
 connection, and had rescued his son George and other boys of this 
 very school from a falling house under which they had takea%helter 
 in a storm; and the other resided in an adjoining county, and was 
 well known to him, and a Judge of the circuit which embraced his 
 county. 
 
 The Captain, fully charged with these woman-cooling facts, wend- 
 ed his way homeward in high spirits. His exultation was increased 
 upon reaching home by finding a letter waiting him, from Doctor 
 Waddel, ' ' 
 
 As soon as he had reached his dwelling, and had taken refresh- 
 ment — " come," said he, " Mary, let's go over to Anna's, and have our 
 too long postponed conference about Mr. Waddel's." 
 
 " If you are going to talk seriously to your sister, to relieve her 
 from her anxiety about her child, I'll go with you; but if you are 
 going to run on with all that stuff about the whch breed of Ramsays, 
 who seem to have turned your bead, I will not go one foot." 
 
 " Wei], I am going to be serious, and to give Anna a full state- 
 ment of things at^Mr. Waddel's as they are. I know it will distress 
 her, and I want you to help rae reconcile her to them." 
 
 They went, and after the usual salutations, the Captain began: 
 " Well, Anna, I have come over to tell you fully how matters stand 
 at Mr. Waddel's. My reason for postponing the disclosure was, 
 that I was in hopes of recei^ng a letter from Mr. Waddel that would 
 help to reconcile you to the state of things at Willington. So brief 
 was ray stay at that place, that I really learned but little of the par- 
 ticulars in which you are most interested ; but I saw enough to sa- 
 tisfy me, that to all who would have their sons removed from vice, 
 well instructed, invigorated in mind and body, and early taught self- 
 reliance, there was no better school than this. But all things about 
 it are of the very cheapest, plainest, and roughest kind. Therejs one 
 framed house in* Willington, and that is the head teacher's; all the 
 rest are of logs, and open at that." (Mrs. M. turned pale.) " Wil- 
 liam's study and bed room are of this kind. He occupies it with 
 young Hay and two others. Its only furniture is two mattresses, 
 (on the floor,) a table, and four split bottomed chairs. The boys cut 
 and haul their own wood and make their own fires." (Mrs. T. turns 
 pale.) " The fare is very plain — necessai'ily so, from the price of 
 board. Mr. Waddel is a very rigid disciplinarian/' (they both turn 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 87 
 
 paler,) " but not tyrannical. His government is strictly equitable. 
 Among all the boys that I saw at Newby's and Waddel's, I did not 
 see one who was as well dressed as your Tom. Evert Doctor Ram — 
 however, we'll pass him over. This is as it should be. Boys who 
 cut wood and carry lightwood knots have no use for fine clothes- 
 I need hardly tell you that your boy, among them, looks like a bird 
 of Paradise among so many crows. I wish you had taken my advice 
 in laying in his wardrobe, for I am sure his finery will bring upon 
 him the taunts of his school-fellows. And now I have told you the 
 worst — the very worst. Jjut I have something to brighten this pic- 
 ture a little. And first, read this letter from Mr. Waddel."" 
 
 " You read it, brother," said Mrs. Mitten, with swimming ^es 
 and tremulous voice. 
 
 The Captain reads : 
 
 " WiLLINGTON, &c., &c. 
 
 " Deal' Sir : On taking leave of me, you requested me to give 
 you early information of the standing, conduct, and progress of your 
 nephew ; and, as my letter will reach you through the kindness of 
 Mr. Jones, the bearer, nearly or quite a week sooner than it would 
 by regular — or rather irrcrjular — course of mail, I avail myself 
 of the opportunity to comply with your request. William has been' 
 under my instruction just a week to-day; and though I would not 
 venture confident predictions of him, upon so short an acquaintance, 
 I will give you my present estimate of him, for what it is worth. If 
 I am not grossly deceived in him, he is destined to a most brilliant 
 future. He was a little rusty in the principles of construction at 
 first — no, in the application of them — for of the principles them- 
 Belves, he is master, and he improves in the application of them 
 with every lesson. His class was a week ahead of him in the Greek 
 grammar, when he entered it. He has already made up the defi- 
 ciency, and now stand.! fully equal to the best in his class in this 
 study — indeed, in all their studies. He is moral, orderly, and stu- 
 dious, and if he will only do half as much for himself as nature has 
 done for him, he will be the pride of his kindred and the boast of 
 his country. You will not be much more delighted at receiving this 
 intelligence, than I am in communicating it. 
 " Yours \(iry respectfully, 
 
 MosE.s Waddel." 
 
 " There," said the Captain, bouncing up in transports and throw 
 ing the letter in his sister's lap, " there, sis, what do you think at 
 that ? Now, as you arc a good christian, play Methodist for one 
 
88 MASTER WILLIAM MITTBN, 
 
 time, and go to shouting, I begin to believe In sbouting, if religion 
 is what it is cracked up to be." 
 
 •' Brother," said she, " I am just as happy as a mother can be at 
 such tidings ; but what do they signify, when uiy poor child may be 
 brought home to me in less than a month, a corpse ? William's con- 
 stitution can never stand the hardships to which he is exposed. A 
 hard mattress on tfie floor, in an open hut, this bitter cold weath- 
 er ! Cutting wood ! — the boy never raised an axe in his life — 
 carrying lightwood knots ! He never brought a turn of wood in the 
 house in his life. Taunted by rude schoftl-mates for being decently 
 dressed ! I^Iy child is worse off" than my negroes." 
 
 " Don't you suppode there are fifty in that school who have been 
 brought up as tenderly as your boy has?" 
 
 " No, I do not. Thej are all poor boys and country boys who have 
 been brought up to hard work. I may have erred in bringing him 
 up so daintily ; but it is done, and he is now unable to bear hard 
 usage." 
 
 " Do YOU reckon General Senator Governor Mathew's grand-child- 
 ren are poor boys? — that the Honorable Peter Early's brother is a 
 poor boy ? — that Senator Merriwether'e son is a poor boy ? — that 
 Senator Bibb's brothers-in-law are poor bo3'S ? — that Judge Tait's 
 BOO is a poor boy ? Is young Hay a poor boy ?", 
 
 " How do you know that all these mea have sons there ?" 
 
 " I learned it from a bigger man than any of them, who is kip 
 to them, and knows all about them, and their sons." 
 
 " Well, I suppose all their sons w«re raised in the country and 
 raised to work." 
 
 " Do you suppose that Senator Governor Milledge's nephew was 
 raised in the country and to work ? That William J. Hobby's son 
 was raised in the country, and to work ? — that Doctor Bamsay's son 
 was raised in the country and to work ? It is high time your dainty, 
 cake-fed boy was set to work, if you expect him to live out half his 
 days. And when a better time than now ? or where a better place 
 than among his school-mates of rank, who all work ?" 
 
 ''He is under your control, brother," said Mrs. Mitten, burying 
 her face in her handkerchief; "but surely, surely, he is the most 
 unfortunate child that evir was "'Or i " 
 
 " Yes, he is <)ne of the most unfortunate children ever born, in 
 having a mother whose sympathy lor his budy makes her forget the 
 interest of his soul — who to save his hide, will ruin his head — How- 
 ever, what's the use of talking to a woman." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTKN. 89 
 
 "Husband," said Mrs. Thompson, ^'youdon't know how to make 
 the proper allowances for a mother's lovo. I've told you so a hund- 
 red times. That is your greatest fault — almost your only fault — 
 that, and refusing your children little innocent indulgences that 
 every other father allows to his children. I have been mortified to 
 death to see my children along side of their cousins. Because men 
 have no feelings .themselves, they think women have none — or ought 
 to have none — " 
 
 " Ph-e-e-e-ew ! what a gust! what did you come over for, Mrs. 
 Bildad V 
 
 " I came over to comfort sister Anna, who has most as much to 
 bear as Job had." 
 
 "I don't think Sarah suffi^.much by comparison with Ann and 
 Jane — at least if you'd look at one of Sanford's bills you'd think 
 she ought not to." 
 
 '* Well, I manage to keep her a little decent by enduring a month's 
 grumbling at the end of every year; but compare George and Wil- 
 liam will you. Till last year and the year before, "when did he ever 
 have a new coat — a decent one — to his back ? I've been cutting 
 down your old coats and pants for him ever since he was born " 
 
 " He must have gone into pants early." 
 
 "That's very witty, I confess; but you kflow that every word I 
 say is true. \Vhat pleasure it can be to any one to be always morti- 
 fying and cowing their children, I can't conceive. You'fc always 
 talking about making boys u-ork, twor/^, and giving 'em fine constitu- 
 tions, and George has done no more work than William has, and his 
 constitution's no better. Now, husband, what will the world say to 
 see you sending off your sister's child into slavery, and keeping your 
 own son at home, with all the comforts of life about him V 
 
 " I thought he was in a dreadful pickle at home." 
 
 " Well, so far as his feelings — his sensibilities arc concerned he 
 is ; but he's not a meaq-fed, mean-elothcd, ridiculed slave ; he's not 
 tumbled down on a hard mattress, on the bare floor, in a negro 
 house, this pinching, freezing weather. I wouldn't expose George 
 to such hardships and insults, if he never got an education during 
 ash and oak." 
 
 " I think that very likely." 
 
 "Surely, upon the face of the whole earth there can be found 
 some school as good as old Waddcl's where boys can be taught with- 
 out being made niggers of." 
 
 " Mr. W^addel is not old, precious ; and it would distress him 
 mightily if he knew that you didn't like his school." 
 
90 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 *' I don't care whether he's old or young, nor what he likes or dis- 
 likes. One thing is certain, and that is that G-eorge never goes to 
 him with my consent." 
 
 " Well, come darling, let's go home ! you have comforted Anna 
 more in a few minutes than I could have done in a month ; for you 
 have dried up her tears and actually drawn two or three smiles from 
 her. My purpose is fully answered. Old as I am, I never knew 
 how to comfort women before." 
 
 "Brother, I thought you said Willington was a village !" 
 
 " So it is, but nobody lives in it but students and one tavern- 
 keeper." 
 
 " I seni my letter there." 
 
 " Well, maybe it will go there. You should have sent it to Vi- 
 enna. Come, sweetest, let's be going !" 
 
 " Go on, sweetest; and I'll come when I'm ready." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Few men living, have a higher respect for the " American fair" 
 than we have. We regard them as a thousand times better than 
 men, and do not feel that we pay them a very extravagant compli- 
 ment at that. Nor are we blind to the virtues of the men. There 
 are many splendid specimens of humanity among them ; but, as a 
 class the;f do not equal the other sex in any thing, that tends to en- 
 noble the human race. As good as women are, they would be bet- 
 ter still, if it were not for the men ; and yet, with this confession 
 on our lips, we are constrained to say that after all, woman is a very 
 curious thing. In proof of this assertion, " let facts be submitted 
 to a candid world !" 
 
 The reader has seen with what spirit and dignity Mrs. Thompson 
 reduced her husband to order as soon as he began to cast reflections 
 upon women generally — how he opened a whole volume of family se- 
 crets, that the world would have never known but for his over-latu- 
 dinarian outgivings — with what independence she spoke of *' old 
 W^addel," and his " likes and dislikes " — how sweetly she dismissed 
 her husband — and how his sister was comforted by all these things. 
 Now, after the Captain had retired, and the two ladies were left 
 alone, what think you, gentle reader, was the strain in which she 
 continued to her husband's sister? Why, of course : " Sister, you 
 are to patient — too weak — too submissive. Be independent. Ifwe^ 
 don't show some spirit men will make slaves of us. Resume your 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 91 
 
 authority over your child, and take him awaj' from that horrible 
 luonster, old Waddel, and his one hundred and fifty white slaves." 
 You are mistaken, kind reader. After a pause, long enough to let 
 the Captain get out of hearing, thus it ran : 
 
 " Sister, that is a sweet letter of Mr. Waddel's. How kind it 
 was in him to write so soon. However severe he may be, my life 
 on it, he is a kind man at heart, and takes great pleasure in seeing 
 the advancement of his scholars. It is very hard for a child raised 
 as William has been, to be exposed to such rough usage ; but, after 
 all it may turn out for the best. Every day that I live I become 
 more and more satisfied, that after a certain age boys should be sub- 
 jected entirely to a father's government. As you knew, husband and 
 I have bad many disputes about the proper management of George, 
 and I have always found that in the end he was right and I was 
 wrong. We arc too apt to let our love get the better of our judg- 
 ment in the management of our children, especMly our sons. I 
 reckon it is a wise arrangement of Providence, that men should not 
 have much love and sympathy — that is, as much as we have — that 
 they may not be led oflf by their afi"eetions into too much indulgence. 
 So much better satisfied am I with David's judgment, than I am 
 with mine, in ruling boys, that I don't pretend to oppose him in 
 any thing concerning them, except in the little matter of dress; and 
 besides you know him well enough to know that when he once sets 
 his head upon a thincr, and puts his foot down, you'd just as well 
 undertake to turn over the Court House with your little finger, as to 
 move him. Now, I see he has made up his mind to keep William 
 at Waddel's, and nowhere but Waddel's, and be is the more bent 
 upon it, because he wants him to contend with those — what was 
 that biggest man of all, that told him so much about Governor's, 
 and Senators, and Judges, and aW that ?" 
 
 " Gilmer ?" 
 
 •'1 never beard of him; did you?' 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, it's very strange that we never heard of him — we've heard 
 of all the rest of them. But as I was saying : David thinks there 
 never was such a boy born for mind as William. I tell him J think 
 George has quite as good a mind as William — not^uch a sprightly 
 mind, but more solid. Don't you think so, sister '!" 
 
 " George is a sweet, good boy, sister; a boy to be proud of, and 
 of fine mind. I've no doubt but that he will make a more solid, 
 practical, useful man than William ; but " 
 
92 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 ^' Well, I've 4old ray husband so ; but he says as for talent, for 
 genuine, native rnleiit, George won't do to be named in the same year 
 with William. And that's another very strange thing in men ; 
 have you never noticed it? They always think every body else's 
 children smarter and better than their own. What was I saying ? 
 Oh — David's head is set upon showing off William to those great 
 folks, in that large school, and have his way he \cill; so I think, my 
 dear Anna, you'd best try to reconcile yourself to it. Don't let it 
 distress you. Surely, if other people's children, raised as tenderly 
 as he has been, can live through it, he can," 
 
 '* Oh, I could bear it all with becoming fortitude, my dear sister, 
 if I could be sure that William would live through it — that his con- 
 stitution would not be undermined by it. But the change is so sud- 
 den — in everything ! If he lives through it, his spirit will be 
 broken down — he will be cowed — his ambition bo stifled. I know 
 William's disposition better than any body else in the worl(^ knows 
 it. He can be led by kindness, stimulated by praise, and won by 
 words, but he cannot bear harshness, censure, and, least of all, chas- 
 tisement. Now, is it not strange, my dear Mary — is it not unac- 
 countable, that of all the schools in the world that is the one my 
 poor child should be doomed to at last ? When, and where, will his 
 misfortunes end? And now, what shall I do? What am I to do ? 
 I have given my child up to brother David's control, and I know his 
 inflexibility where he thinks he is right. There is one thing I know, 
 and but one thing,, that will overcome, him, and that is my grief; 
 but I do not wish to afflict him with my anguish of heart. . What 
 trouble have I given him ! What brotherly kindness has he shown 
 me ! How prophetic has been his forecast ! How proud he is of 
 my son ! How rojoioed when he does well ! It is cruel in mc to 
 pain him. And yet, when I think of my poor boy, how can I help 
 it? 'Yes, I will, sister Mary — I will strive to suppress my fedlings; 
 at least, to hide them from brother David. I am greatly delighted 
 with Mr. Waddel's letter, I ara sure he is not the eruel, merciless 
 man he has been represented to bo." 
 
 " Well that is right, sister Anna, You be happy, and huskand 
 will be happy, and I will be happy, and we'll all be happy. At 
 least, hope for the best, till you hear from William. It will be time 
 enough to grieve when you hear that William is unhappy." With 
 these words, and two emphatic kisses, moistened with the tears of 
 both, the sisters parted. 
 
 Now, we could moralize as long, and quite as profitably, upon the 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 93 
 
 character of Mra. Thompson, as Dickens does upon the characters 
 which he dreams out; but as we detest the repeated interruptions, 
 of a story by long dry homilies from the author, we will take it for 
 granted that when wc faithfully delineate a character, the reader 
 can draw his lessons of morality from it as well as we can ; but as it 
 would be doing great injustice to the character of Mrs. Thompson to 
 rest it with the reader upon an occasional interview with her nearest 
 and dearest friends, we are sure that wo will be indulged in a word 
 explanatory of her seeming inconsistency in the conversations just 
 detailed. 
 
 After long and careful observation of human nature, iu all its 
 phases, we are strongly impressed with the idea that there are many 
 women in the world — good women, sensible women, goo(f wives, and 
 good mothers, who arc a little i%2^ul.'<ivc — liable, under very trying 
 circumstances, such as masculine wit at fcniino expense, he slurs at 
 she sense, man's snuffing at woman's loving, and the like, to become 
 slightly excited ; and then, as they feel themselves called upon to ex- 
 temporize without a moment's preparation, or a moment's pause, they, 
 of course, do not deliver themselves with a due regard to logical 
 precision, or methodical arrangement. Constrained in their hurry 
 to snatch up any implement of warfare that presents itself, ttey have 
 no time to consider its fitness, or unfitness, for the contest; conse- 
 quently, they sometimes seize a battle-axe, with handle so long, that 
 while the blade hits the enemy, the handle knocks down two or 
 three friends at the s:ime time. They send otT a petard so mal- 
 adroitly, that, while it only singes the foe, it blows up whole pla- 
 toons of allies. It should be remembered, likewise,, that they fight 
 only " to restore the equilibrium " — never for pcrn)anent conquest. 
 It would be very strange, therefore, if, under these circumstances, 
 they did not at times seem inconsistent in their words and ways. 
 Now, Mrs. Thompson was one of this class, and one of the very best 
 of this class. While upon this head, let mo disabuse the reader's 
 mind of another false impression that he ma}', perchance, receive 
 from the scene of consolations which he has just witnessed. He 
 may suppose from the Captain's sudden change of note, as soon as 
 his wife took up the soothing harpsichord, that, except in the mat- 
 ter of George, and upon a few very rare occasions, when *' he put 
 his foot down," he was under pretty, rigid petticoat government. 
 Not 80. Foot down, or foot up, whenever a material issue occurred 
 between the h-ads of the family, his judgment was fignl and con- 
 clusive; but iu matters of minor import both acted independently. 
 
94 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 The jurisdictions of each were early defined after the marriage; 
 t(^ the madam was assigned the house, the kitchen, the smoke house, 
 and the garden, in absolute sovereignty; to himself, all other inter- 
 ests were accorded. After children were born to them, all fell un- 
 der her jurisdiction up to the age of six; then, the Captain assumed 
 a little authority over the males, up to ten, when he reversed the 
 order of things, he becoming principal and she secondary. As to 
 the females, he claimed no privileges, but the very humble ones of 
 grunting and turning up his nose occasionally at their flounces, and 
 of grumbling annually (vide supra,^ at their store bills. Small as 
 these 'things were, they were unconstitutional encroachments, for 
 which he received the due retributions, to which he submitted with 
 no other sign* of impatience than perpetrating a joke, or a witticism, 
 in the midst of them, always under tlfe pain of double punishment — 
 yes, he was guilty at tinges of other encroachments in the way of 
 certain signific-int " IlnmjjJis !" at pale cofi'ee, undone biscuits, 
 burnt meat, and the like, at meals ; to which she responded in the 
 following apologetic terms : 
 
 " When your negroes cease to he masters and mistresses of the fa- 
 mil?/, majjhe you II get something fit to eat." To which, at the ear- 
 liest convenient opportunity, she added an amendment, in manner 
 and form following, to-wit : 
 
 " 1 suppose you. (little Sueky,) thinh that because the grown nig- 
 gers are allowed to run over me, and do as they please, YOU can do so 
 too; hut Til teach you better Miss. I can manage you, myself ^ Miss 
 JSmjrress Catherine !" Meaning, thereby, that the aforesaid David 
 Thompson had been guilty of crassa, negligentia, and divers non- 
 feasances, to the great detriment of the said Mary, and highly un- 
 becoming the Chief Executive officer of the Thompsonian Govern- 
 ment. By means whereof the most insignificant subjects of said 
 Government had eome to regard themselves Emperors and Empres- 
 ses, and to deport themselves to the said Mary accordingly. 
 
 To* these impeachments, the Captain filed no plea; "sometimes 
 pretending" that he was too deaf, and at others too busy to hear 
 them. 
 
 Nor did the madam always keep within her legitimate domain. 
 She would, with malice aforethought, stop a plow to send Sarah to a 
 quilting, and then, the Captain's foot would come down in earnest^ 
 and he'd " wonder whether there was a woman in the world that 
 wouldn't lose a crop to give her daughter a sugar-tit \" All which, 
 qnd sauch more like it, Mrs. T. bore with lamb-like meekness, and 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 95 
 
 speechless submission, her eyes looking out meantime as though she 
 was contemplating evening clouds. The equilibrium was beautifully 
 preserved in the Captain's family. 
 
 From all this, it appears that Thompson was no farther under petti 
 coat government tliau all husbands arc, and all good husbands ought 
 to be. He was a very happy man in his family, and his wife was as 
 happy as he was. 
 
 Before his wife returned from the visit of consolations, the Cap- 
 tain had finished a short letter to William, reporting Doctor Wad- 
 del's opinion of him, the gratification it afforded his mother in par- 
 ticular, and I'.is connections in general — urging him not to disappoint 
 the high expectations which had been raised of him — to be studious 
 — not to mind the taunts of the boys about his fine clothes — to wear 
 them out as rjuick as possible with lightwood knots, aud get plain, 
 coafse' ones. " Let the boys see," said the Captain, " that if 
 you do not know how to work, you can soon learn. Beat them ia 
 every thing. Beat them in learning, in working, in running, ia 
 jumping, in wrestling, in athletic sports of every kind.. That is the 
 way to make them respect you." We must not let the reader sup- 
 pose that the Captain omitted the important matter of diet, though 
 he expressed himself upon it in very coarse terms — withal, they are 
 characteristic : " Don't let your head be always running upon what 
 is to go into your paunch." 
 
 The Captain was just folding his letter, when his wife returned, 
 " Well, Mary," said he, "and how did Anna seem when you left; 
 her ?" 
 
 " Why, poor dear soul, it's enough to make one's heart bleed to 
 see her. She docs try her very best to become reconciled to Wil- 
 liam's lot, but it seems impossible. If you could have heard her 
 when she talked about your kindness to her, and ho« it increased 
 her griefs to know how they afflicted you, it would have filled your 
 eyes with tears. Do, my dear husband, be as kind and tender to 
 her as you can. She says that she will strive to overcome her feel- 
 ings for your sakc-^ " f 
 
 " Well, that is all I can expect of her," said the Captain, with 
 suffused eyes — " visit her every day, Mary, and keep her as much as 
 possible from brooding over William's fate. See if yoi* can't per- 
 suade her to take a trip of a month or two from home, as soon as 
 the WQather breaks — I must away to the post office." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 At tho very time when Doctor Waddel was penning his letter to 
 Captain Thompson, teeming with compliments to William Mitten, 
 the same William Mitten was writing another to his mother teem- 
 ing with phillippics against Doctor Waddel ; but as good luck would 
 have it William's letter was about a month in reaching his mother. 
 This may seem strange to the reader of the present day, when com- 
 munications pass' between New York and New Orleans in a few min- 
 utes and letters pass between them by the due course of mail in five 
 or six days. But the matter is easily explained. In the good old 
 days of President Jefferson, people were not as much like the Athe 
 nians as they are now — that is, so greedy of news that they could 
 think of nothing else ; and had they been, they would have deemed 
 it utterly impracticable to send a letter by public conveyance over 
 sixty miles, in less than two days, excluding stoppages. And if 
 Dogfight post office lay on the way, and rain fell between times, the 
 post-boy was commended if he came up to schedule time. But if 
 Dogfight and Possum-town post offices both lay on the way, and a 
 storm intervened, three days to sixty miles was considered but a 
 scant allowance. No mails were carried in Greorgia by vehicles, but 
 the mails between Augusta and Savannah ; none in South Carolina, 
 we believe, but between Charleston and Columbia. All others were 
 horse mails, couimonly in charge of boys under nineteen years of age. 
 These took their rest at night, and took shelter from rain in the day, 
 as their health required. The vehicles called sfages carried passen- 
 gers as well as mails. They, too, stopt for the night, and well for 
 the passengers that they did; for Waddel's shaking of Brace was a 
 comfort compared to the shaking and bouncing of passengers in 
 these vehicles, when going over rooty, rutty, and stony ground. 
 
 The facetious Oliver H. Prince, who was toothless in front, upon 
 being asked how he lost his teeth, replied, "that they were jolted 
 out by traveling over Georgia roads in a stick sulky." If this were 
 true, teeth must have been scarce among the stage passengers between 
 Augusta and Savannah, sandy as the road was for the most part.* 
 
 Besides the tardiness of the mails, there was another more serious 
 
 . « 
 
 * Post Coaches were introduced in South CaroHna and Georgia by Eleazer 
 Early, in 1825, we think ; and we knoiv that the first passengers in one of them 
 were Gen. Thomas Glascock, Major Freeman- "Walker, arid the writer, of Geor- 
 gia, and Col. Christian Breithaupt, of South Carolina. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 97 
 
 obstacle to ready coinmunicatioa between tbe students and their pa- 
 rents at a distance. The nearest post office to Willington was, as we 
 have iiitiuiatod, at Vienna^ six miles from the Acadeuiy; and in all 
 Willington jr>rq/jcr or cominon there was but one'horse that coiild al- 
 waj's be had for hire, and that wes Southerland's old Botherem.' 
 Now, for a student to wait the revolution of fifty or sixty Saturdays 
 before his turn to hire old Botherem rolled round, would have been 
 distressingly dilatory. Withal, to hire him just to mail a letter, was 
 "rather fatijuing to the Jrnaiicrs" of the youth of tliis Institution, 
 which were exceedingly reduced in those days. To walk six miles to 
 mail a letter, was out of the question. The only alternative left, 
 and that which was universally adopted, was to take the chance of a 
 visitor to the village on business, or pleasure, and the chance of hear- 
 ing of his intended departure before it occurred, and the chance of 
 seeing the visitor ad interim, and the chance of his being willing to 
 bear the letter, and the chance of his not forgetting to mail it after he 
 took charge of it. It might be, therefore, especially with a new 
 comer to the' school, several weeks before all these contingencies 
 would result favorably to the writer, and so it was with William. 
 His letter to his mother made his f^re even worse than it was, by a 
 total omission of wheat biscuit at least once in three weeks, and 
 sometimes oftener, and butter " semi-occasionally," and fresh pork 
 for middling, every now and then ; chicken pie twice or thrice a 
 year ; and turkey as often as old Manor* could kill a wild one, which 
 happened about once in two years ; and venison as often as old Mancr 
 could Jcill n deer, which happened once in three years. Of course, 
 master Mitten was not to blame for omitting all these thinss, for 
 even biscuit-time had not rolled round when he wrote; but it is due 
 to the kind-hearted landlord and landlady, that Mitten's report 
 should receive the just qualifications. After descanting upon his 
 board and lodging, he proceeded as follows : " All I ever heard about 
 old Waddcl, is true. He whips ten times as much as Mr. Markham 
 does, and twice as hard, and laughs and chuckles all the time he is 
 doing it, like it made his heart glad to cut boys' legs all to pieces. 
 
 " Last Monday morning, one boy named Ned Brace made him 
 mad, and he caught him by the throat with both hands, and lifted 
 him up, and slammed him down, and jerked him all about among 
 the boys, till I thought he would have killed him; and I wish he 
 had, for he does nothing but torment mc every chance he gets. 
 Uncle had haidly left here, before he came up to me, and asked me 
 
 ♦A fancy shoemaker and great hunter, who boarded at Newby's. 
 
98 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 tow long I thought it would be before I would blossom? I told him 
 I did not know what he meant. 'I mean,' says he, 'how' long will 
 it be before your shirt begins to peep out of your breeches and 
 jacket V Then he tells me I am the prettiest boy he ever laid his 
 eyes on, and have got the prettiest little hands and feet that he ever 
 did see, and that it almost makes him cry his eyes out to think that 
 my pretty hands will have to touch lightwood knots; and that I never 
 shall do it, for ho will get a nice little pair of tongs for me to pick 
 up the knots with, and a pretty little band-box for me to carry them 
 in. The othefi- day he squalled out to me, right before all the boys, 
 ' Oh, Bill Mitten, I have found you out, have I ? I suspected it as 
 soon as I saw you, but I thought nobody would do such a thing.' 
 
 " ' What do you mean ?' said I. ' What have I done ?' 
 
 " ' Why,' says he, ' you have come here in boy's clothes, and you 
 inow very well that you are a girl ; and I believe you are the very 
 girl that looked so hard at me in church last vacation. I knew you 
 loved me, but I never thought you would follow me here in that 
 ■plight. What do you expect uje to do? Do you think I would 
 marry any girl in the world that acts that way ?' 
 
 " Here, I ordered the monitor to set him down for making game 
 of me, and telling lies ; and I do hope old Waddcl will give him 
 twice the choking and jerking ]-.e gave him last Monday. He is, 
 everlastingly tormenting me, and setting all the boys to laughing at 
 aae. * * * * * The boys here are the smartest boys I ever 
 saw; and they study the hardest of any boys I ever saw; but they 
 do not seem to like mc, and, therefore, I keep away from them, ex- 
 cept a few good boys, who are very kind to me. All their amuse- 
 3Qttents are running, jumping, wrestling, playing town-ball, and bull- 
 pen. The big boys hunt squirrels, turkeys, &c., of Saturday.^, and 
 'possums and coons of nights. Mr. Waddel does not require them 
 to study at their boarding-houses, though they almost all do it." 
 
 This was true from 1805 to 1808, but about the latter period, a 
 shoal of city youths entered the school, who abused their privileges 
 so much that they were curtailed one "by one, until at length the 
 gtudents were forbidden the use of fire-arms, were required to retire 
 to rest at 9 o'clock P. M., if not engaged in study beyond that hour, 
 to consume but fifteen minutes at their meals, and to rise with the 
 sun every morning. It is, a remarkable fact, that, with two or three 
 exceptions, no student \)fho entered this school between the years 
 1806 and 1810, from th^e largest cities of Georgia and South Caro- 
 lina, ever became greatly distinguished ; while the period including 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MlTfEX. 99 
 
 those dates was the most fruitful of great men of any of the same 
 length, during the whole time of Doctor Waddel's instnuctorship.* 
 
 Master Mitten closed his letter with a most earnest appeal to his 
 mother "todo all that she could to get his uncle to remove him from 
 this school." She furthwith dispatched u messenger to the Captain, 
 who was soon at her side. He found her weeping, of course. The letter 
 was handed to him, and he commenced reading it gravely; but 
 when he reached the complaints against Ned Brace, he began to 
 laugh, and laughed more and more immoderately as he progressed. 
 
 " Brother David," said his sister, "what do you find in the letter 
 to amuse you so much ?" 
 
 " Why, this odd fish, Ned Brace !" 
 
 "It seems to mc very strange that you can find anything laugli- 
 able in such vulgar, unprovoked rudeness as he shows to your 
 nephew.'' 
 
 " Oh, Anna, I wouldn't mind these little boyish frolics. There 
 arc always some Braces in a school, whom the boys soon get used to, 
 and become amused with rather than angry with.- As soon as Bill 
 blossoms, no doubt Ned will let him alone " 
 
 "Brother David, I shall take it as a great favor, if you will not 
 obtrude the refined Mr. Brace's wit on my car, how much soever you 
 may relish it." 
 
 "Well, now, Anna, you have a* great deal of the blame of all this 
 
 to take to yourself. You have raised your child in a band-box 
 
 Oh, come back Anna ! I give you my word and honor I had no al- 
 lusion to Brace's fun. I told you not to rig William out in finery for 
 that school; but you would ; and now, he is verifying my prediction. 
 But do not take such trifles so much to heart. William tells you the 
 boys there are the smartest and the most studious boys ho ever saw ; 
 'and Waddel tells you that he is among the most promising of them 
 all. Now, think of these things, and do not let the fun or folly of 
 his schoolmates distress you. He seems to have a fine protector from 
 Brace, at least, in Mr. Waddel. If William docs his duty he will 
 soon command the re.spcct of all his school-fellows, even of Brace 
 
 • Wc n.Tine tne followinp: "Wni. I). Martin, M. C, Jiidg-e Circuit Court, S. C. ; 
 Kldrcd Simkins, M. C, S. C. ; J-imcs L. Pettigru, Atlomoj Gfiicral and District 
 Judge, iS. C. ; Andrew Govnn, M. 0,, S. C. ; Hug'li S. Lcpraro, Attorney General 
 U. S., S. C. ; George McDuOie, M. C, and Governor of 8. C. ; Lewh "Wardlaw, 
 Judge Superior Court, 8. G. ; Fnncis Wardlaw, Cliancellor S. C. ; George E. 
 Gilmer, M. C, and Governor, Ga ; George Gary, M. C, Ga. ; John "Walker, Lf. C, 
 Ala.; Henry W. Collier, Governor and Chancellor, AJa. ; and many others of 
 lower rank. Joiiu C. Calhoun and ^V■lllia^l 11. Crawford were Waddel's pupils, 
 of earlier date. 
 
100 MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 himself. As to his leavin.f^ that school, it is out of the question. 
 There are but two contingencies upon which it can be done. His 
 sickness is one, and the other, I shall keep to mjself, for the pres- 
 ent, at least." 
 
 "Did you not say that*you left it optional with him to board at 
 Mr. Newby's or elsewhere ?" 
 
 "I did, and so he may. By going to another boarding- house, he 
 will get rid of Brace of nights and mornings, but not of noons. I 
 have no idea that the fare is any better at the other houses than it is 
 at Newby's. He is now convenient to the 'Academy,' with pleasant 
 room-mates, acquainted with the boarders, his landlord and landlady, 
 and, doubtless, better satisfied upon the whole than he will be any 
 where else. Now, would you put him among strangers, with what 
 kind of a room-mate you know not, and have him walk from one to 
 three miles every night and morning, through winter storm, and 
 summer heat, just to have him a little better fed than he is, and to 
 remove him from the taunts of one waggish boy?" 
 
 Mrs. Mitlen pondered over these sayings sadly for a time, and 
 then rejoined : "Now, brother, you're always ascribing William's 
 misfortunes to my folly or v/eakness ; tell me candidlj^, isn't it bad 
 luck, and nothing but bad luck, that Mr. Waddel's school happens 
 to fall in the woods ? That William should be compelled to endure 
 such rough fare ? And that he should have fallen into the same ^ 
 boarding house with that tantalizing Ned Brace?" 
 
 "Well, as Bill is — that is, as you have made him — I don't know 
 but that his falling in with Brace may b(i considered rather unlucky; 
 but if he had been raised as he should have been, he would proba- 
 bly have been able to stop Brace's mouth wiihuut appealing to Mr. 
 Waddel. But as he is, why doesn't he give Brace as good as he sends? 
 If Brace ridicules his fine clothes, why doesn't he ridicule Brace's 
 coarse and dirty ones! If he admires Bill's pretty face, why does 
 npt Bill laugh at his ugly one! If he calls Bill a pretty girl, why 
 does not Bill call him an ugly wench ! That's the way to meet such 
 larks as Brace ; not to play the girl before him, sure enough. 
 
 "As to the fare, I consider that sheer good luck.. It's high time 
 that Bill had the cakes, and the su^ar-plums with which you have 
 been stuffing him all his life purged out of him " 
 
 "Why, brother ! where did you learn your coarse language ? Not 
 from your father or mother, I knovr." 
 
 "I learned it from Williani'3 brin^ring up ; the like of Avhich you 
 never saw in your mother's familj, I know. She taught me, God 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITKN. 101 
 
 bless her ! to work, to move (|uick at her bidding, to eat just what 
 was set before me — and she generally set before me for breakfiist, as 
 you know, a pewter-basln of clabber, and a pone of corn-bread, a pew- 
 ter-tumbler of milk or butter-milk, asd a pewter plate of fried apples, 
 'most floating in sop, with three little pieces of clear, curled middling 
 perched up on top of them, like ilried bean-pods. iNly dinner was 
 just the same, with an occasional change of meat to squirrel, 'possum, 
 venison, and very rarely beef. For supper, I had wind and water, 
 and nothing else. AVhen I was thirteen ov fourteen years old, I have 
 no doubt I should have considered Newby's fare perfectly luxurious — 
 certainly, it is quite as good as I was raised on." 
 
 "You surely don't think of what you are saying, brother. Moth- 
 er bad both cliina and crockery ware, and some silver ware; and she 
 was one of the nicest house-keepers and best pastry-cooks in the 
 world." 
 
 "Oh, yes, she had a set of china; I remember it well; though I 
 never got but three lair looks at it in a^l my life ; and I remember 
 quite as weU having got twice three fair licks, when about seven years 
 old, for trying to climb up to the upper story of the old buffet,* to 
 ascertain what those shining things were that peeped oixt of the dark 
 garret every time that mother opened the door of the buffet. How 
 many pieces there were at t'lis periodJ do not know; but I know that 
 just seven (counting a cnp and saucer as one) survived the Revolu- 
 tion. They cam»! in full view before me, when three officers of the 
 army stopt at our house for a night. The t^vpper, I had not the plea- 
 sure of seeing, as mother invited me over to Uncle John's to spend 
 the evening; but the />re(f A-/as< was prodigious I First, there was a 
 table cloth spread on the table. This wa.s amazing; and I ventured 
 to feel it, at the expense of a back -handed lick right here ! (pointing 
 to the back of his ear.) Then came forth six crockery plates, laid 
 bottom upwards, wi*h knives and forkR by t'heir sides, which I had 
 never seen before. Then was placed at the head of the table a large 
 waiter with something on it covered over with a shining white napkin. 
 
 *Tlie bulTct, often c;illcd tlio Lo/at, was a trianjrular cupbourd, e^a t-litted to 
 llie conicr of a room, iitid e.xtciidini^ from the door nearly to the ceil inp. The 
 first slielf in it was ahout two find a half feft from the bottom. nn<\ ilie opace 
 was closed by a door, or fiildiiijjdooro, with loi-k and key. This waa the depos- 
 itory of tlie iainily groceries Then, came another .shelf, and nnotiier. and ano- 
 *lier. to the top. Tlleso were all closed by plaps doors. f«r a single door, after the 
 manner o n window Blmlter. Tlic first division w.is;ippropriated to the iijfhter 
 pewter-ware. The set'ond to the liquors (or the d.iy, with their nec<ifhl accom- 
 paniments of honey, sometimes Piij;ar. mint. bowN. mii>;3. .spotms. andocrnsion- 
 Blly jrhiss tumblers The tliird contained the crockery, and the fourth, balf-coa- 
 cealed by the cornice of the buffet, the china aud silver ware, if any. 
 
 H 
 
102 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 (llevu I got lick. No. 2, for pcoping under tKc napkin.) There was 
 set in tlic centre of the table a peppcr-hox. and a salt-cellar, the last 
 after the fashion of a morning-glory on the foot of a wine-glass. Ou 
 either side of said sah-cellar, and equi-di^itant from it — say nine inch- 
 es — two tahle-spoons of solid silver crossed each other, howls down- 
 ward, and two more lav. the one at father's plate, and the otherwhere 
 the, fried ehickon was to be ; on mother's side of the first brace, was 
 placed a little glass bucket, like a doctor's mortar, full of rich yellow 
 b;itter, fri?;zled all over, pine-burr fashion. Now came in a plate of 
 beautiful hist uit ; then an equally beautiful loaf of light-bread; then 
 a plate of new-fashioned corn bread, parceled out by the spoonful, 
 and baked iu the shape that the spoon gave it. Then came in a dish 
 of nice fried ham — then another of fried chicken, dressed off' with 
 cream, and flour doings, and parsley; then another of broiled chick- 
 en, put up as now, with wings akimbo, and leg.^ booted in its own 
 skin; then came two bowls of boiled eggs, the one hard and the other 
 soft — not tbe bowls, but the eggs. All this accomplished, the napkin 
 was removed, and oh I what a sight was there ! A china te-i-pot, six 
 oupsand six saucers, all real china, and all with red pictures on them,' 
 of things I had aev(^' seen, and have never since seen! A proud,- 
 dandyish, pot-bellied, nariow-ueckcd, big-mouthed, thin-skinned sil- 
 ver cream-pot, strutted out among the china, and turned down its only 
 lip, at everything it faced, most insultingly. A silver sugar-di.sh, 
 shaped like the half of a small muskmelon, stood modestly by the 
 dapper cream-p,ot. Motiier picks up the little dandy, and turns him 
 bottom upwards, to make him disgorge six silver tea-spoons that he 
 had swallowed. Tlio h;;ndle3 appear, but the bowls stick in his 
 throat. She rights him, gives bis scat a pat on the table, and turns 
 tim up again; butln^ can't deliver. She therefore picks out of him 
 one spoon at a time, aid lays it in a saucer by the side of a cup. She 
 Eow orders Silvy to bri.vg in ''the li((Ic 2'>^'(cher of cream." The little 
 pitcher appears (pure cruokery) with half its lip bit off', and the han- 
 dle gone, and an ugly crack meandering from the upper foot of the 
 handle towards the disfigured lip. The little gentleman is carefully 
 filled irum the pitcher, his mouth is wiped clean, and he is set up to 
 make mouths at me till the compaay comes. The pitcher goes back 
 to the dairy privately. Dick is ordered to bring in the coff'ee, and it 
 appears in a large tin cofTee-pot. The lea-pot is filled out of it, and 
 it is ordered back to the fire ia the kitchen. All things are now in 
 order, and I am directed to inform the company that breakfast is 
 ready. And now, Mrs. Anna Mitten, you have had a full display of 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 103 
 
 all the crockery, cliina, aud silver, that your mother possessed from 
 the year 1773 to the year 1787, v/hcu the nvholc disappeared with 
 s:ster Jane, upon her marriage." 
 
 "You surely mistake some thing.?, brother," i-u.id Mrs. Mitten, 
 smilinp^, "and, therefore, it'ia«r«ite likely yon mistake the amount and 
 kind of mother's tnble-\Yare.VMother never let us saunter about the 
 table when she was* fixing for company. She never sent you in your 
 coarst! clothing to call American officers to breakfast " 
 
 "Just stop there a moment, sister, and I'll explain matters to your 
 entire satisfaction. When mother invited me over to uncle's for the 
 evening, she invited me home again at day break the next morning. I 
 accepted the invitation, and was prompt to the time, knowing tbat 
 ladies always get in a pucker when fixing for compan}-, especially for 
 'Mf Qmdili/,' and that it would have beer, very undutilul in me to 
 add a scruple's weight to mother's disturbance of mind upon such 
 occasions. I know I should have reflected upon it with pain, as soon, 
 as the company retired. 'Go,' said mother, on meeting me, 'to the 
 spring, and letch a kceler of water, and take it up in tlie loft, and 
 wash and dress yourself, and come dowu to my room ; you will find 
 your clean clothes on the bag of dried apples.' I did as I was bid- 
 den, aud came down in my Sunday suit, and walked into mother's 
 room. She ran her eyes over me, pulled up my breeches, pulled 
 down my jacket, spread out my shirt collar, looked for dirt on my 
 neck and behind my ears, didn't find any, clasped my shoes a lit- 
 tle tighter, combed my head, powdered it, and bade me take my seat 
 in the dining room. All this w:is done, doubtless, that I might buve 
 it to say, in after times, that I had seen General Greene, Colonel 
 Washington, and Colonel Willianxs; that they had supped and slept, 
 and breakfasted, at my father's house ; and (perchance,) that I had 
 Actually .spoken to tliem, and been spoken to by them. It may be, too, 
 that the good lady, finding me getting a little boorish, wasdi.sposed to. 
 give me some knowledge of nice entertainments and genteel w)ciety. If 
 iDv improvement was her object — if she designed to inspire me with 
 military order, she missed it. When the officers first took their seats 
 At the table, 1 was deeply interested in their looks aud conversation j 
 but when I saw all the luxuries of the table going under their vorjv- 
 cious appetites with a perfect rush, alarm entirely suffocated admira- 
 
 11. The vanishing ham, I didn't care so much about; but as piece 
 utter piece of chicken disappeared, and egg alter egg, and biscuit af- 
 tcr biscuit, till all were gone but two chicken-necks, one hard egg, 
 two elicea of ham aud three-quarters of the loaf of bread, I became 
 
104 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 perfectly furious, and a Tory outright ; and I said to myself, 'if these 
 are the sort of fellows who are fighting for our liberties, I wish that 
 • Cornwallia and Tarleton (they talked mostly of them) would catch 
 and hang every rascal of them.' 
 
 '^ The same breakfast set was paraded again, near the same time, 
 when Colonel Lee suj.ped with us, and nfever again until Jane's mar- 
 riage. 
 
 "And now, sister, raised as we have been, where did you ^^et your 
 refinement in love and maternal indulgence from ?" 
 
 "In your zeal to display all mother's crockery, you put one plate 
 too many on the table, brother." 
 
 "No, I didn't ; Uncle John was expected to breakfast, and prevent- 
 ed from coming by a shaking ague that very morning." 
 
 Mrs. Mitten had her tears turned to smiles, at least by the Cap- 
 tain's account of "the old folks at home,'' and this was more than he 
 hoped for, afttjr reading William's letter. He begged his sister to 
 "■ive William no encouragement to hope for a removal from Waddcl'e. 
 promised to write to him himself, and left her. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Captain Thompson's design was to keep his nephew at Doctor 
 Waddel's school long enough to wean hin^ from his old associates, 
 and his old habits, to put at least seventeen years ujion his head be- 
 fore he entered College, to prepare him so thoroughly for the sopho- 
 more class, that he might enter it with credit, and in the meanijiae 
 to give him the strength and vigor of censtitution, that would sus- 
 tain him through any amount of mental labor that he might find it 
 necessary to undergo in order to stand at the head of his classes in 
 College. All this was as well planned as it could be. College is no 
 place for a youth given to bad habits. It sometimes happens, that 
 religion finds such an one. there, and reforms him ; but it much 
 oftener happens, that he makes shipwreck of the religion of all his 
 Colle'>-e companions who associate with hioi. Nor should a youth be 
 sent to College until he has acquired some little stability of character 
 and self-control; and seventeen is the earliest age at which these 
 can be hoped for, in youths generally. Well for them if even af 
 that age they have the moral firmness needful to resist the tempts^ 
 tions to vice, which are found in all Colleges. One of the best se- 
 curities against these temptations is a high reputation for talents and 
 scholarship, acquired immediately on entering College, Students 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIXrEN, 105 
 
 will commonly stru<»^le harder to maintain, than to gain a high po- 
 sition in tlieir classes. 
 
 But to the success of Captain Thompson's plans, it was indispens- 
 able that William Mitten should become reconciled to this school; 
 otherwise he would keep his mother in such a state of mental excite- 
 loeot, that her health must soon give way under it, when no alter- 
 native would be left him, but to save the life of the mother, by io- 
 dalgence of the son. He flattered himself that time would reconcile 
 William t» the school, and the sooner, when he saw all hope of leav- 
 ing it cut off. He knew that the worst must soon be told, and he 
 supposed that if he could carry his sister safely through the succes- 
 sive developments of the first month or two, his ultimate designs 
 would be accomplished. His policy was, therefore, to lighten the 
 first shock of each unpleasant discovery, by diverting her mind from 
 it, with something amusing, flattering, or harmlessly controversial. 
 The critical reader will have learned his tactics from what has been 
 recorded specially in the last Chapter. Having allayed the mother's 
 anxieties for a moment at least, ho turned to the son, and addressed 
 to him a letter, in which, with much good advice, he administered to 
 him a stern rebuke for afflicting his mother with his complaints. 
 *' Are you," said he, " so inhuman, so brutish, as to try to win me 
 over to your wishes, through your mother's tortures ? Are you not 
 well enough acquainted with her to know that she never forfeits her 
 word — that she would sooner die, now, than reclaim you from me 
 until your education is completed ? Why, then, do you croak to 
 bcr ? Why do you not make your wants and discontents known to 
 me.'' lam the only one that can appease them. 
 
 "And you are grumbling about your fare already! Why, I car- 
 ried cakes and sugar things enough with you to last you one week 
 surely ; and pray get unstufTed of them, before you begin to grumble 
 about your next cramming. If you had seen your father and me 
 when we were of your age, gulping down ash-pone and "cracklings, 
 you would, for the honor of the stock at least, keep your daintiness 
 to yourself. 1 don't know what Newoy gives you to eat ; "but I have 
 no doubt it would have been a feast to us in our day. What apology 
 have you for grumbling at your diet, when you have the privilege of 
 boarding where you please ? H" you don't like Newby's, go some- 
 where else. What better are you than the hundred and fifty boys 
 around you '! Tiii,-< much you may take for settled : that 1 never will 
 take tjou axray from Mr, Wudchrs, Just to arrommodate. your belly. 
 So quit your grunting about what you arc to eat; and if you Vuust 
 grunt, grunt to me, and not to your mother. 
 
106 MASTER WILLIAM MITPEN. 
 
 " And what does it signify to you, who or how ' old Waddel,' as 
 you call hiu:;, whips, so long as he does not whip you ? ^Old Wad- 
 ded ." That is a pi etty way for such a chap as you are to speak of a 
 man of Mr. Waddel's age and rank, now is it not ? Pray, Master 
 Mitten, where did you learn your manners ? From ' itnde Twaf.,' 
 or uncle Sot? lu the purler, or in the kitchen'/ Now mark me, 
 young man ! The next time you write that name in that way to 
 your mother, or me, I will cut it out and send it to Mr. Waddel, and 
 ask him whether he allows his pupils to speak of him after this 
 manner. I lose' all patience, when I think that at the very time 
 ■when you were speaking thus rudely of him, he was penning a let- 
 ter filled with the most flattering compliments to you " 
 
 Whila the Captain was thus writing to his nepliew, Mrs. Mitten 
 was busily en g<7ged devising moans to raise her son above wani and 
 ridicule. She resolved that William never should " blossom," and 
 that in this matter, at least, she would disappoint Mr. Brace. Ac- 
 cordingly she set to work with all dispatch to make him up two new 
 suits; and that they might not attract attention from their fineness, 
 she chose for them the coarsest material that her heart would consent 
 to William's wearing. " Let my son." sighed she, '' look like a ne- 
 gro, rather than svffcr icorse than one !" She taxed her mind to 
 find some decent substitute for a shirt, but failing here, she made 
 him up three cotton shirts, of Mrs. Thurlow's spinning and weaving 
 — that is to say — of the best- quality of home manufacture. To 
 these she added three pairs of stockings of Mrs. Figg's knitting. 
 All these, with three blankets, and two pairs of cotton sheets, were 
 packed in one box; but as they did not quite fill it, she slipped in- 
 to it one tumbler of plum jelly, and one of raspberry jam. These • 
 being nicely surrounded and covered with cotton, the box was closed. 
 Another was replenished with biscuit, crackers, cheese, tongue, sliced 
 ham, sausages, &c., &c., to a large extent; and this too, like the 
 other, was closed rather carelessly. The whole process was kept a 
 profound secret from the Captain ; and indeed, from everybody else, 
 but Tom,- ypoa whom secrecy was strictly enjoined. As there was 
 no hope of meeting v/ith a convenient opportunity of sending these 
 ourabrous stores to William, by one going to Willington, Mrs. Mitten 
 determined to forward them without delay per cart, in charge of 
 her most intelligent and truety servant. The reader immediately 
 conjectures who this servant was. But a very ugly difficulty lay be- 
 tween the plan and its execution. Tom did not know the first mile 
 of the way to Willington, and to get directions from the Captain, 
 
"MASTER WILLIAM. TtflTTEX. 107 
 
 was just to blow the whole project yky hii^h. Mrs. Mitten took the 
 rounds of the stores, therefore, in quest of the desired iniiirmntion. 
 Bnt few of the merchants or citizens of whom she made inquiry, 
 had ever heard of Willington j and, when she told them that Wil- 
 lington was the place where Mr. Waddel kept his school, thej 
 looked at her as if doubting whether she was in her right mind; for 
 every body knew that her son was at Mr. Waddcl's school, and that 
 her brother had carried him there. All were too pblite, however, 
 to a.<k explanations of her. From 3Ir. West, she. got a little light. 
 He told her that when her brother went off with William, he met 
 them near Mr. Ellison's, oa the Wiishingtoti road. This was 
 enough to start by, at least; and she knew that Mr. Smith's was 
 the first stage ; but she was well aware that it would never do to 
 dispatch Tom upon tliis information alone. She was constrained, 
 therefore, to resort to her brother at last. She went over to his 
 house early in the afternoon, and found that he had gone to his farm. 
 She awaited his return ; and in i\ny meantime made a confidant of 
 "'Irs. Thompson, and bespoke her assistance in extracting from her 
 Imsbaud such directions, as would guide Tom surely and speedily to 
 Willington. The Captain reached home just at supper time. His 
 sister greeted him with a radiance of couutenancc'and gaiety, of man- 
 ner, that really transported him. 
 
 "Oh, my dear sis," said he, " how happy I am to see you so 
 cheerful — so much like your own dear, sweet, former self I What good 
 news have you heard?" 
 
 "None, brother. My checrfulDcs.s is not altogether real; but I 
 hope it soon will be so; and perhaps the best way to make it so. is to 
 assume it when I can." 
 
 So went the conversation, as they wont to the tabic. When seated, 
 Mrs. Mitten actually began a playful conversation with Mrs. Thomp- 
 son, by enquiring whether ,-he had heard lately of "'David Kamsay, 
 on of Dr. I'amsay, the Uistorian, &c., itc, &c." 
 
 •'No," .said Mary, "I don't think he'll cv- - ' :o mo 
 
 again, as long as he lives." 
 
 The Captain roared, and all laugh, d. 
 
 "Well, JIoll," said he, "if I could aiv,<._,,- .-... you and ^l,-' in such 
 finq spirits, I believe T should be the ha'ppicst man living." 
 
 "Well husband," said i*Iary. "we ought both of us always to be in 
 fine .'spirits, for after all your leasing and wilfulness, 1 don't thiukany 
 woman ever had a better husband than I have, or a better brother 
 than Anna has." 
 
 '•I can say'oniPrt' to that with all my heart," said Anna. 
 
108 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 ""Well, done, ladies!" cried the Captain, pretending to take it all 
 as a joke, "what project have you now on foot ? Where are the girls 
 going? How many horse.s will they want, and for how long? How 
 much money will it take to rig them out^ and bear their expenses. It 
 ean't be that either of the girls are going to got married : the oldest 
 is a little too young for that." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind, husband ; nothing of the kind. It just 
 came in the way, and I spoke out the honest sentimeuts of my heart." 
 *^And so did I, brother, I assure you." 
 
 "Well, ladies, I can only si»y that I wish from the very bottom of 
 my heart, that all this would 'just come in the way' every day. It 
 •would make me the happiest man in the United States, I'm sure." 
 "Brother, have you answered William's letter ?" 
 "Oh, yes, long ago," said the Captain, looking as if he thought 
 something was about to '-come in the way'' that was not quite so com- 
 fortable. 
 
 "Husband, how far is it to Mr. Waddel's ?" 
 "About sixty miles — maybe a little under or over." 
 "Which way do you go to get there, brother ?" 
 "I went the Barkesdale Ferry Road, because it is a little nearer 
 than the upper rgad by Lisbon, Petersburg, and Vienna. Look 
 here, good women, what do all these questions mean? Anna, you 
 surely have no notion of going to Mr. Waddel's, have you ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not the most distant idea of it — at least till the weather 
 becomes milder." 
 
 "You're not going to send forVVilliam to come home, surely !" 
 "No, no, my dear brother, no. Did you ever know me to violate 
 my word ? And if I were disposed to do it, do you suppose that I 
 would do it stealthily?" 
 
 "That would be quite out of character with you, sister, I confess. 
 But there is something so strauge in this catechising from you and 
 Mary, and it goes on with such quizzical looks between you, right 
 upon the heel of a loving fit, that T am constrained to think that 
 there is something in the wind that I am not to be suffered to under- 
 stand." 
 
 "How do you know husband, but that we are paying you back in 
 your own coin ? It is fine sport for you to trifle with our curiosity." 
 "I should expect such pay from t/cw, but not from Anna." 
 "Well, sister Mary, as we can't please him cither by being serious 
 or pleasant, suppose we go over to my house for the remainder of the 
 cvcninir." 
 
MASTEK WILLIAM MITTEN. 109 
 
 ''Oh, 110, my dear wife, and my dear sister, don't i^oaway and leave 
 me wliilo you are in such a pleasant mood. 1 have not had such a 
 refreshing, for two years. Stay, and you may ask me as many ques- 
 tions as you please, aud I will answer them with pleasure." 
 
 ''Stiy a moment, Anna, and let's try him," said Mrs. Thompson. 
 ''What is the given nanro of the ^mith whom you stayed vith the 
 first night?" 
 
 ''John." 
 
 "How far does he live this side of Washington ?" 
 
 "About three miles — perhaps a little less." 
 
 "After you pass through Washington, what is the, next town thai 
 you come to?' 
 
 "Xo town. But there are two places that boar t.ho names of towns — 
 or names which a traveller would take for the names of .towns, though 
 there are not six houses in both of them put together ; the first i» 
 Tichoboth, aud the second is Goshen." 
 
 "Well, you have said your lesson so well (hat we will not examine 
 you any more to-night. And now, sister Anna, he has been such a 
 good boy that I think you ought to sit down and spend the evenini.^ 
 with him." 
 
 "I would with all my heart, sister, if I could, but business that 
 must be attended to-night, calls nie homo. Kemcmber. I have 
 been here nearly all the afternoon." 
 
 "Well, if you must go, I'll go with you." 
 
 "What in (he mischief can these women be af*^er ?" mused the 
 Captain as they left the house. "If Waddci was a widower, and 
 didn't whip so joyfully. T should think that Anna was going over to 
 lay siege to his heart." The Captain being fatigucl, retired early to 
 rest. 
 
 As soon as the ladicis entered the house, Tom was summoned. 
 
 "Tom," .said Mrs. Mitten, "I want you to take old Ball and the 
 cart, and carry those boxes to your mas' Williani. He is going to 
 school to Mr. Waddel, in Willingtou, over in South Carolina — is Ball 
 shod?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, new shod, day before yesterday." 
 
 "I want you to start at the peep of day in the morning. And now 
 listen well to what I'm going to tell you.* You take the Wasbingtori 
 road, the road by .Mr. Ellison's, and keep it till you come to 3Ir. John 
 Smith's. He lives only two or three miles this .«idc of Wasliington. 
 There you will stop ft-r the night, no matter what time you get there. 
 
110 MASTER AVILLIAM MITTEK 
 
 TLe ijcxt morning, make an earl}' start, and wlien you get to Wash- 
 ington, enquire for Rehoboth " 
 
 "Stop, Mi.s'ess — call that name 'gin !" 
 
 ''Echohoih—Rii-ho-hoth." 
 
 "I got him !" said Tom, with one ear up and the otRer down, his 
 eyes looking on the ground six feet oif, and listening, most vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 "When you get to Rehoboth, inquire for Goshen, and when you 
 get to Goshen, enquire for Barkesdale's ferry; and when you get to 
 Barkesdale's ferry, enquire for Willington, or Mr. W^addel's either ; 
 and when you get to Willington, ask for Mr. Newby's, where you will 
 find W'illiam — I believe that's all right, isn't it, Mary?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "Here is your pass, Tom, in which I have stated where you are 
 going, and for what. If you get out of the way, show that to any 
 one you meet, and bo will set you right. And here are ten dollars; 
 take five to beisryour expenses, and give the other five, with this let- 
 tor, to William. Now, do be particular, Tom, for if anything goes 
 wrong, we shall never hear the last of it. I want you to get back 
 before brother David finds out that you have ever been." 
 
 "I'll go it, mis'ess, like a streak o' lightnin'." 
 
 Mrs. Thompson returned home and slipped into bed without wak- 
 ing her husband. The next morning he watched her very closely, 
 but could discover nothing unusual in her conduct or conversation. 
 xYfter breakfast, he re-visited "his farm, and returned to dinner. Hav- 
 ing dined, he sauntered down to the business part of the town, where 
 he joined a group of gentlemen in front of Mr. West's store. They 
 gave him a somewhat distant> salutation, and eyed him with rather a 
 solemn interest, saying nothing. 
 
 "Why, gentlemen," said the Cajtain, " what makes you all look so 
 serious V 
 
 "Captain," said '3Ir. W^est, "have joii heard from your nephew, 
 W^illiam Mitten, lately ':"' 
 
 "Not very," .-md the Captain, turning pale. "Has anything bap- 
 peued to him?" 
 
 "Not that I know of, but liis mother asked me the way to IMr. 
 Waddel's yesterday, with some anxiety, atid I didn't know but that 
 something had happened." 
 
 "She asked me, too," said a second. "And me, too," said a third. 
 "And me," said a fourth. 
 
 "Why," resumed the Captain, "it is the- strangest thing in the 
 
MASTER WILLIAM illTTEX. Ill 
 
 world ! i^othing can be the matter ■nitli Willialii, fur his mother was 
 at my houhc last night, and 1 hardlj- ever saw lier more cheerful than 
 she was, all the time she stayed. And, vh.at was unaccountable to 
 me, then, and is more so now, she and my wife were pumping meal[ 
 the time about the road to Waddel's." 
 
 'I thought it very straftge/'^ntinued West, "that she did not go 
 to you for information." 
 
 "I was not at home in the forenoon." 
 
 **0h, well, that accounts for it." 
 
 It was sheer good lack on Mrs. Mitten's side that none of the par- 
 ty knew but that she had gone to consult her brother in the first in- 
 stance. While the whole company were standing amazed, Mr. Hough- 
 ton came up, smiling — 
 
 "Captain," said he, "as I came into town this morning, I met jour 
 sister's Tom about two miles this side of my liouse, in a cart, with 
 two boxes in it, and a!)out two feeds of fodder and corn. Why, 
 Tom, said I, "where are you going'/" 
 
 "I'm gwinn," says ho, -'to Mr. Wodden's, wIki kecjxs school at Mr. 
 Williston's, in Car'iiuu-" 
 
 "Well," said I, "Tom, you'll never get to Car'lina this way, till you 
 pass through Augusta." 
 
 "Why, ain't this the Wa.shington road, Mas' Joish V said he. 
 
 "No, Tom, you left the Washington road three or four miles 
 back." 
 
 "Emp-e-e-eh 1" says Tom. "My .sign fail me this time, that's sar- 
 tain!" 
 
 "What sign, Tom ?" 
 
 "Why, you see, Mas' Josh, when I come to the fork of a road, and 
 don't know which tp take, I spit in my hand and hit 'urn with my 
 fore-finger, .so ; and which way the mos' spit fly, I take that road. 
 But, bless the Lor', the spit cheat nie this time, that's sartaiu." 
 
 A poal of laughter followed this narrative, loud enough to be heard 
 over half the village; but the Cajjtain did not swell it much. He 
 disguisedhis wrath, however, 2»retty well. • • 
 
 "1 put him in the right road again," continued Mr. Houghton, 
 "and i'or fear the spit wouldn't fly right, I advised him of all the 
 forks between my road and the Washington road." 
 
 "The myr<tcry is e.xplained," said the Captain. "Anna has sent off 
 a cart lomi of comforts to her sou, which she did not wish me to know 
 about; and now I'll have to go after Tom, ior he'll never find the way 
 toWaddcl'.s during ash and o.'>k." 
 
112 MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 "What did he mean, Captain, ".inquired Houghton, "by Waddel's 
 keeping school at Mr. WiUhton's ?" 
 
 "The place where Waddel's school is kept, is called WilHngfon, 
 and Tom has mistaken it for a man's name." 
 
 As the Captain's feelings were not in tune with those of the com- 
 pany, and as every question made the discord more and more grating 
 to his refined sensibilities, he concluded to retire ; so putting on an 
 air of perfect indifference to the whole matter, and saying carelessly 
 "I must see Anna," he withdrew very leisurely; but one who saw 
 how his face reddened, and his pace quickened with every step towards 
 his sisters after he turned the nearest corner, might with truth have 
 exclaimed, "The ma-an's mad !" 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Captain Thompson had ample cooling time before he reached his 
 sister's residence, for it was full two hundred yards frora Mr. West's 
 store; "but contrary to the law in such case made and provided," in- 
 stead of cooling, he got hotter and hotter with every step of the way. 
 Business* at home demanded his attention just at this time — the 
 weather was still cold, and might in a day or two turn much colder. 
 W^hen and where he should overtake Tom, and how he should dispose 
 of him and his load when overtaken, were perplexing considerations. 
 Then his sister's unconquerable indulgence of her son, with its proba- 
 ble consequences, coming upon the raw places of his mind which it had 
 alread}^ produced, was quite irritating. Nor was he entirely forget- 
 ful of the fun of the village already enjoyed at his expense, and like- 
 ly to be renewed ou his return. All tbese things pressing upon a 
 mind naturally excitable, were not calculated to lull it into repose. 
 The reader therefore will not be surprised to leai'n that they so com- 
 pletely absorbed the Captain's attention, that he became wholly for- 
 getful of the claims of dignity, and "the poetry of motion," and that 
 he reached his sister's steps in a palpable trot. 
 
 As soon as his sister saw him she showed signs of great alarm, for 
 she observed that he was in a state of very unusual excitement. Her 
 alarms had a good effect upon tbe Captain; they reduced his feelings 
 instantly to a little above temperate. 
 
 "What," said he, "was in thoee boxes you sent off by Tom, this 
 morning ?" 
 
 "One contained some clothi:ig for William, and — r-" 
 
 "More finery, I suppose !" 
 
 "No, not a stitch of finery." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN". 113 
 
 "Two suits of coarse negro cloth, (I may call it) some cotton 
 homespun shirts, and a few home-knit stockings." 
 
 This was refreshinji to the Captain. "Well, I rejoice," continued 
 he, "that your love for your boy is beginning to show itself in (he 
 right W£fy at last. And what was in the other box V 
 
 "Some refreshments " 
 
 "More cakes, raisins, almonds, sugar-pums, &c., etc., of course ?" 
 
 "No, not a single one of either." 
 
 "What then? 
 
 She named the contents of the box. 
 
 "Well, if he must be crammed, better this- than the first lot. Now 
 I've got to pack off after that fool negro, prcsised as I am with busi- 
 ness, just at this time; for he'll never find the way to Waddel's 
 while the world stands " 
 
 "Brother, I am sure you need not take upon yourself that trouble. 
 Tom is a very intelligent negro " 
 
 "Humph!' 
 
 " And I have no doubt but that he will go Btraight to Mr. 
 
 Waddel's without a blunder. I give him such particular directions 
 that he can't miss the way " 
 
 "J'bii gave him directions ! Why, there never was a woman — 
 a toicji woman — on the face of the earth, who could find the way to 
 a house fifteen miles from her own. after going to it twenty timesj 
 and tliere never was one who could direct Solomon to a place ten 
 miles off, $6 that he could find it ; and here you've sent off a stupid 
 jackass of a negro to go sixty miles under your directions, and to a 
 place that you've never been to yourself!'' 
 
 "Well, if he doesn't find the way, it will be all your fault " 
 
 "How the devil will it be my fault?" 
 
 "I got the directions from you, and I gave them to Tom just pre- 
 cisely as I received them from you, and sister Mary will prove it." 
 
 "I didn't pretend to go into the details, for I did not know what 
 you and Mary were fishing for; and if I had given them, there is 
 not a Tom in the world that could have followed thenj." 
 
 "I think, brother, you underrate the negro character, as you arc 
 too apt to do with all character, except that of the 'lords of creation.' 
 I must think that there is a little sense in the world that duos not 
 belong to them. Perhnps, however, I atu mistaken." 
 
 "Well, what directions did you give Tom '!' 
 
 She repeated them. 
 
 "And you think Tom can't miss the way under thopc diroctions ?" 
 
114 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 a "I am sure he will not, for I have proved him to be uncommonly 
 shrewd at finding roads." 
 
 ''Well, he did not get ten miles from town before he got lost — 
 took the Augusta road, and told Joshua Houghton that he was going 
 to Mr. Wodden's who kept school at Mr. "Williston's, in Carolina !" 
 ' "Oh! Mr. Houghton must have misunderstood him. He couldn't 
 have niiscalled Mr. Waddel's name, for it has been repeated in his 
 hearing over and over, and over again. Isn't Burke's Meeting-house 
 on the Yv'ashington road"/". 
 
 "Near it." 
 
 "And isn't it more tl»an ten miles off?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, he knows the way to Burke's Meeting-house, for he has 
 taken me there repeatedly." 
 
 "Yes, and if you had told him to go by Burke's Meeting-house, 
 he would have gone that far straight, at least." 
 
 ''I couldn't have told him that, for I didn't know that Burke's 
 Meeting-house road and the Washington road were the same my- 
 self." - . 
 
 "I suppose not. But it is not worth while to stand talking about 
 it. I know that he will not find the way to Waddel's in a week, if 
 ever, and I must go after him. Was old Ball shod or bare-foot 
 when he set out"/" 
 
 "Newly shod." 
 
 "Did you give him any money to bear his expenses ?" ' 
 • "I gave Tom money." 
 
 '"Bid you understand me to ask whether you gave old'Ball money 
 to pay his expenses ?" 
 
 The Captain, without waiting for an answer to his last question, 
 went home with his '■'foot doion,^' and of course his wife was all meek- 
 ness and obsequiousness. He did not speak to her at all, but called 
 out in her presence to Dick, "to have his horse ready at the peep of 
 day, for him to pack off after Anna's Tom." 
 
 "Master, is Tom runaway?" 
 
 "Ask your mistress there — she can tell you.!' 
 
 "Miss'ess is Tom — '—" 
 
 "Go about your business, you black rascal," said Mrs. Thompson, 
 in an undertone." 
 
 "Kigh I" whispered Dick, "some 'en wrong here !" 
 
 The Captain fell to writing letters furiously — ^jumped up and or- 
 dered Dick to grease the chaise — resumed his pen, and jumped up 
 
MASTEK WILLIAM MITTEN. 115 
 
 af'ain and felt in bus breeclies' pockets — wrote sonietiiuo, and jumped 
 up again and jerked open a drawer, looked in and sllut it up again — 
 folded up a letter and" commenced another — ^jumped up and ordered 
 Delphy to get him some warm water to shave — wrote again — stopped, 
 punched the fire, and told Suckey to tell Dick to bring in some wood, 
 "plenty of it. for I don't know that I shall go to bed to night." Wrote 
 again — rose, went out and stayed a little while, and came in again. 
 Folded another letter or note, and went to writing again. "Finished, 
 another note, and called for the water to shave. Just here, Mrs. 
 Thompson, in a very subdued tone, informed hinj that supper was 
 ready. It consisted of tea, biscuit, butter, cheese, sliced ham, cold 
 tongue, and a few cold sausages. The Captain took his seat, and 
 looked at them as if they were all laughing at him, and then fell to 
 work upon them, as if he were fighting them for their rudeness. 
 
 "What clothes shall I put up for you, husband V said Mrs. Thomp- 
 son, tenderly. 
 
 "I reckon you'd best put up all I've got, for I expect to wear them 
 all out before I find Tom, and get him safely hon^e again. It will be 
 at the very least, four days before^ this can be accomplished. Ujwn 
 this hint the good lady .stocked him for a week. 
 
 After supper, the Captain shaved, went to the stable to see that 
 old Roan was in travelling order, returned, handed thtflettcrs to his 
 wife, and went to bed. The letters were all left open, from whicb 
 the wife understood prcfectly, that her duty concerning them was to 
 be learned from their content^s. 
 
 And now having put the Captain quietly to bed, we beg leave to 
 indulge in a few rcfiections upon his conduct towards his sister and 
 wife. We can find it in our heart to palliate, if not wholly excuse 
 his gusts of temper before his lovely sister. The heat of his mind 
 would not cool, even in cooling time. But how can we justify him, 
 in a direct issue between them upon the capacity of the negro race 
 generally, and of Tom, in particular, for ascribing his blunder whol- 
 ly to stupidity, when he knew and must have remembered, that ne- 
 gro stupidity had nothing to do with it ! It was the result, as the 
 reader has seen, of a symbolical delusion (if we may be allowed the 
 expression) and not of mental imbecility. It was not in keeping 
 with the Captain's usual candor to suppress this important fact. 
 
 Nor can we find a single apology for the Captain's long protracted 
 crustiness to his wife. He had relieved himself at his sister's of his 
 redundant steam, there was nothing to raise it again on his way 
 home, her playful " fishing " frolic was certainly no ofi"ence, and her 
 
116 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 meekness in his presence should have reduced him instantly to ten- 
 derness and kindness. But so it is with these *' lords of creation ;" 
 they must not only be allowed to become furious, but they must be 
 allowed to spend their wrath upon the dearest object they have on 
 earth. Is it likely ihat women will continue to marry if such eon- 
 duct be persisted in ? And what is to become of the world when 
 they cease to marry '/ 
 
 Having made no allowance for the six or eight miles that he had 
 lost on the Augusta road^ Tcra concluded, at the end of seventeen 
 miles from home that he must not be far distant from John Smith's; 
 and that he might not pass his stopping place from ignorance of its 
 location, he determined to keep himself well advised of his ap- 
 proaches to it, from such travellers as he might meet. His mind 
 was no sooner made up to seek light, than an opportunity was af- 
 forded him in the person of one who entered his road but a few 
 yards ahead of him. 
 
 " Master," said he to the strangfer, " how far is it to Mr. 
 Smith's V 
 
 " Which Smith ?" 
 
 '' John Smith." 
 
 " Parson John Smith ?" 
 
 "Well, I 'reckon he's a Parson, for Mis'ess is a mighty good 
 Christian, and she told me I must be sure to stay at his house to- 
 night, any bow, day or night." 
 
 ^- That's the road to Parson Smith's," said the traveller, pointing 
 to the road he had just left. " It's just three miles to his house." 
 
 Tom took the road and went on his way rejoicing. Hq soon 
 reached the Parson's, and without introduction,' or question, to the 
 good man, he commenced ungearing. Mr. Smith, noticing him from 
 bis window, walked out and asked him what he waS doing. 
 
 " Aiti't this Parson Smith's ?" enquired Tom. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Mis'ess told me I must stay here any how, no matter what time 
 I got here." 
 
 " Who is your Mistress, my boy?" 
 
 " Mrs. Mitten — mighty good woman." 
 
 " I don't know her — I reckon there's .§om'e mistake — Have you 
 any paper?" 
 
 "Yes sir," said Tom, handing his pass. 
 
 The Paraon read it, and said, " Tommy, my boy you've come out 
 
MASTP:R WILLIAM MITTEN. 117 
 
 of your way. I'm uot the John Smith you ai-e seeking. He lives 
 right on the road you left, just this side of Washington." 
 
 " Emp-e-e-e-eli ! How fiir is it Master '/" 
 
 *' Wh^, if you go back to the Washington road it is about four- 
 teen miles, but if you'll take that road that turns around the horse 
 lot, you will save near two miles." Tom took it, fell again into the 
 Washington road and reached Smith's an hour or two in the night. 
 
 The next morning the Captain and Tom had an even start ; they 
 both left their respective stations as soon as they could see to drive. 
 As it was next to impossible for Tom to miss his way after being set 
 right by Houghton, until he passed little River, the Captain made 
 no inquiries for him up to this point, but employed himself in a 
 close look-out for the tracks of the cart wheels, and of old Ball. 
 Every now and then he would espy traces of a two wheeled vehicle, 
 drawn oy a new-shod horse, which he felt pretty sure was the equip- 
 age he was in pursuit of; but still he was far from certainty upon 
 this head. He stopped at the first house he came to after he passed 
 the river, and enquired whether a negro, driving a large bald-faced 
 sorrel, in a blue cart, with two boxes in it, had passed that way. 
 " Yes,"' said the man whom he accosted, "I met him yesterday ao 
 the forks of the rdad up here, axing for Parson ^^mith's, and I put 
 him in the road to the Parson's." 
 
 " Par.'ion Smith ! who the devil made him a parson ? A mouth 
 or two ago, he was one of the profanest men I ever saw." 
 
 " You don't know the man, sir. Brother Smith is one of the most 
 rcligiousist men in all this country." 
 
 "What I John Smith, just this side of Washington V 
 
 " Oh -no, not him ! I\irsoH Smith, ' wbo lives over here by Be- 
 thesda Meeting Housp." 
 
 Here the Captain, contrary to his habit, let fall a very bad word 
 against Tom, and proceeded : 
 
 "What could have put it into the head of that addled-brained 
 goose to quit the^plain beatdu road and run off into by-ways to hunt 
 up Parsons and Meeting-houses I" 
 
 " Stranger, I don't know but that I am to blame for that. He 
 axed lor John Smith ; I axed him if he meant Parson John Smith ; 
 and he said he reckoned ho was a Parson, for his Mistress was a 
 mighty good woman, and told him he must ptay all night '' 
 
 " Well, please direct mc the way to Parson Smith's." 
 
 *' Stranger, I hope you won't think hard of me " 
 
 ^' Oh, no sir, no I I don't blame you the loast in the world. Di- 
 I 
 
118 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 rect me the way to Parson Smith's if you please, for I am in a threat 
 hurry." 
 
 " I'm mighty sorry if I turned him out of the way; but he axed 
 me " 
 
 " I give you my word and honor I don't blame you at all — but I 
 shall blame you if you don't tell me the way to Smith's as you did 
 the negro." 
 
 " Oh, yes, well I will with a great deal of pleasure. Go on till 
 you pass a little old field to your left, and you'll come to a road wind- 
 ing round the/?(r edge of it; take that, and it will lead you straight 
 to Parson Smith's." 
 
 As the Captain turned oif, the other continued : 
 
 " Stop one minute stranger !" 
 
 The Captain stopped. 
 
 " Have you ever thought, stransrer, of the sin of profane swear- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Yes," said the Captain, cutting up old Roan. "I never do it 
 unless I am very angry." 
 
 The Captain had no difiiculty in finding the road to Parson 
 Smith's, but he had great difficulty in solving a mystery which pre- 
 sented itself to him as soon as he reached it. As the. road was but 
 little traveled, the tracks of the cart wheels and of old Bald re- 
 mained entirely unobliterateMl. They proved to be the same that he 
 had caught glimpses of on the way, and supposed to be Tom's tra- 
 cing ; but while they showed plainly that he had gone to the Par- 
 son's, there was no sign that he had returned to the direct road from 
 the Parson's. This perplexed him seriously, and made him wonder 
 whether Tom had not gone to a camp Meeting with the Parson. 
 There was no alternative, so he determined to go to the Parson's 
 even at the hazard of jjettinor a more serious lecture from him than 
 he had already received from one of his flock. He soon reached 
 the house, and saw a lady standing in the door. He called to her to 
 know " whether Parson John Smith lived there ?" The lady looked 
 at him intently, but gave him no answer. He repeated the question, 
 but still received no response, " Why what upon earth does the 
 woman mean ?" muttered he. " If there was a fatal disease on this 
 earth called ' The Woman,' I should die of it, to a dead certainty." 
 At length the kind woman broke silence: 
 
 ""Light and come in, and warm yourself." 
 
 " No, I thank you, madam, I am not cold, and am in a great hur- ^ 
 ry. Did a negro man stop here with a cart and a blaze-faced horse^ 
 yesterday ?" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 119 
 
 The lady made no answer, but advanced slowly towards him. Coin- 
 ing near the chaise she said : "You'll have to speak a little loud ta 
 me ; I'm a little hard of hearing." 
 
 " Is this Parson Smith's ?" asked the Captain in a pretty loud 
 tone. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 " He's at the pig pen, sp 'tending to his pigs." 
 
 " Did a negro man and a Maze-faced horse stop here yesterday ?" 
 
 " You'll have to speak a little loud to me ; I'm a little hard of 
 hearing." 
 
 The Captain repeated the question louder. 
 
 " I think he did." 
 
 " Which way did he go ?" 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 " Which-way did-the-negro-boy-go ?" bawled the Captain to the 
 top of his voice. 
 
 " Well, I'm not so deaf as all that comes to — I think he went 
 round the lot there." 
 
 The Captain wheeled off, soor-i struck the trail, and " opened on 
 it " loudly. 
 
 At the true John Smith's, he learned the history of Tom for the 
 preceding night. Smith told him that he had given Tom such di- 
 rections as would carry him on his way through Washington. 
 
 The Captain pushed on through the village, struck the trail on the 
 Petersburg road, followed it for two miles, and stopped for the night 
 at Mr. Brown's. Brown told him that Tom had passed there early 
 on the preceding morning, and that this was all the information he 
 could give of him, except that he seemed to be getting along very 
 well. A little after night-fall another gentleman stopped at Brown'a, 
 whom the landlord greeted with all the cordiality of intimate friend- 
 ship, under the name of Col. White. " Here's a man," said Brown, 
 *' who can probably tell you something about your boy ; he lives 
 right on the road about five miles this side of Petersburg. '•' A 
 boy," continued Brown to White, *' in a cart, with a balledsorrell 
 in it." 
 
 "Oh yes," said White, " he stopped at my house and enquired 
 for '■ the Ilubot,' but 1 understood him and put him in the road to 
 Rehoboth." 
 
 At Col. White's Tom was much nearer to Doctor Waddel's than 
 he was to " the Ilobot ;" but he bad promised " to go like a streak 
 of lightning," and he was verifying his pledge. - 
 
120 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEX. 
 
 As his game had ''doubled," the Captain determined to quit the 
 trail and push directly for Rehoboth. By this movement he had 
 gained greatly upon Tom; but not enough to overtake him that day. 
 "We will not detain the reader with further particulars of the chaise, 
 suffice it to say that about two hours by sun on the third day, in a 
 rugged by-way, about two hundred yards from the highway leading 
 from Augusta to Barkesdale's Ferry, and about three miles from the 
 ferrv, he came up with Tom under very interesting circumstances. 
 On a washed hill side, Tom, as a classic reader is reported to have 
 said, " in trying to avoid Skilly he had rushed upon Caribogus " — 
 or (leaving the classics) in trying to avoid a deep gully on the one 
 hand he had run over a log on the other ; and though he did not 
 quite upset his cart, he tilted it far enough to pour out both boxes 
 in the gully. The top of one of the boxes was so far jpened by the 
 fall, that it discharged four biscuits and two crackers in the gully. 
 The top of the other burst cntiirejly. off, and the tumblers of pre- 
 serves were broken, having delivered a part of their contents to the 
 top of the box, part to the package, part to the road, and having re- 
 tained a part. As the biscuit and crackers vrero too dirty to be re- 
 placed, as the jelly and jam were irretrievably lost to William, and 
 as Tom, from fatigue and long fasting, was very hungry, he rightly 
 conceived that he could make no better use of them than to eat 
 them. As well as he could with a biscuit, he cleaned the package, 
 then the board, (which happened to rest bottom upward) then skim- 
 med the top off what was on the ground, and topped off with what 
 was left in the tumblers. As he did not observe the rule of propor- 
 tion in eating, his biscuit and crackers gave out before he had dis- 
 patched the last tumbler, and he was just wiping it out with his fore- 
 finger, and sucking it, when the Captain came up with him. 
 
 " Lor gor' a' mighty, Mas David!" exclaimed Tom, as the Cap- 
 tain approached him, '' I never was so glad to see anybody in all my 
 born days. These people 'bout here been 'foolia' me all day long — " 
 " How did you get here, you wooly-headed scoundrel ?" 
 " One man told me I'd save three miles by comin' this way." 
 As the Captain got t4 raying bad words again early in the inter- 
 view, notwithstandincv the lecture he had received, and as what 
 farther passed between him and Tom was of little interest, wo omit it. 
 Tii-iy were now but about six miles from Willington and the Captain, 
 very reluctanLly, concluded to pilot Tom himself for the remainder 
 of the wuy. The idea of appearing at Willington, with a cart load 
 of provisions for his nephew, was very annoying; but the thought 
 
MASTER WIIiUAM MITTEN. 121 
 
 of lugging them all the way home again, and disappointing his sis- 
 ter, ■vras still more annoying; so he cho?e the least painlul alterna- 
 tive. 
 
 Things were righted, and the two set out for the ferry. They 
 reached it and found a wagon waiting the return of the flat from the 
 South Carolina side. His heart leaped at this good fortune, for he 
 knew that the wagoti could hardly cross without going through Wil- 
 lington. lie was not disappointed. The wagoner lived but five 
 miles from Willington, was going through it, and knew everybody 
 who lived within si*: miles of it. The (Captain took his name, placed 
 the boxes and Mrs. Mitten's letter in his cSarge, offered. to pay 
 freight, but the wagoner w»uld receive nothing, placed Tom's un- 
 expended cash (seven dollars) in his hands for William, dropped a 
 line in pencil to Newhy explaining things, and set his face home- 
 ward rejoicing. Nothing of interest occurred an the way back. 
 The Captain's good fortune prepared h-im for receiving Tom's account 
 of his adventures which were wonderful indeed, and which Tom 
 never got done recountini"; during his life. The moral oi it, as drawn 
 by himself, may perchance be of service to the reader : " If I had 
 forty thousand niggens, I'd never sen' one so far from home by 
 he'self 'less he know de road firs' chop." 
 
 The Captain reached homo early on the fifth day from his depart- 
 ure, lie gave the particulars of his trip to his wife and sister by 
 snatches, as he happened to be in the humor, until they were all 
 told. The fate of the jelly and jam was very provoking to Mrs. 
 Hitten who was " sure if she had been there, she could have saved 
 some of it." The Captain was too busy to visit the public square 
 for more than a week after his return ; and his visits were very brief 
 for more than a fortnight. But Tom became for a long while a dis- 
 tinguished character on the square. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The incidents of the last chapter were, upon the whole, fortunate. 
 They cured Mrs. Mitten of sending delicacies to her son, cured Wil- 
 liam of his complaints for many months, improved his style when 
 speaking of his Preceptor, brought him out in suitable apparel for 
 his place and associatea, and spruog all the energies of his mother t® 
 reconcile herself to his lot. When so much is said, the reader need 
 not^be told that Captain Thompson was also a great gainer by them. 
 Things now went on more smoothly than they had for yeai'S. Wil- 
 liam soon stood a head and shoulders above arfy member of his class. 
 The G eorgiaus began to brag on him, the Carolinians to emulate him. 
 He began to mingle in the active sports of his fellows, to be cheerful, 
 if not forward, in sharing his part in providing fuel and making fires. 
 His new clothes, to be sure, did not quite reach him before he "blos- 
 somed," for he kept the changes of his first supply as long out of 
 sight as possible ; but he was far from being in full bloom when " the 
 ^fruits of home industry reached him. Immediately upon their arri- 
 val, he appeared in the handy work of Mrs. Thurlow and Mrs. Figgs, 
 and Brace's lips were ctosed to all further sarcasm upon his dress. 
 In short, he followed his uncle's advice as well as he could, and 
 forthwith began to experience the practical benefits of it. His new 
 clothes "scratched him mightily at first, but he had got use to 
 them," as he wrote to his mother; but he thanked her for them. 
 The change in his dress was not much more remarkable than the 
 change iu his physical constitution. 
 
 From a weakly, puny, cowering, retiring, say-nothing boy, he be- 
 came a muscular, active, sprightly, vigorous youth, who was nearly a 
 match for any of his age, in running, jumping, wrestling, and the 
 active sports of the school; and for loud clamoring at bull-pen, and 
 town-ball, he had no superior. There was but one South Carolinian 
 in the school who could throw him down, and that one was Andrew 
 Govan ; there was not one in the school who could match him ia 
 running. From fifty lips the exclamation would come : " Did you 
 ever see a fellow come out of the kinks as Bill Mitten has?" By 
 the time it came to his turn to make fires in the Academy, (one of 
 the duties of every student,) he was as prompt and skillful in this 
 work as most of his associates. Sweeping out the Academy (anoth- 
 er duty) of course was easy. Beyond all this, there was nothing re- 
 markable in his historv until the annual examination and'exhibitioa 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. l2^ 
 
 came ou. These exercises continued for several days, and they were 
 attended by multitudes — more, by many, than usually attend our 
 College Commencements in these days. The order was as follows : 
 First, the examination of all the classes; which was invariably con- 
 ducted by the visitors, except when thoy declined" the task, and this 
 rarely occurred. Then speaking, for which prizes were awarded. 
 And lastly, the performance of one or two dramatic pieces, usually a 
 comedy and farce : but these were discontinued after the first and 
 only public exhibition in which William Mitten took part, and the 
 reading of compositions was substituted for them. The speakers 
 were divided into three classes, according to their age and advance- 
 ment; the first class being composed generally of the oldest students 
 in the school; the second, of those next in years; and^,he third, of 
 the youngest, cxcludin;;- those in the elementary studies. This ar- 
 rangement was not always observed, however. ISoinctimes the larger 
 and less advanced were put in the first class, and the smaller and more 
 advanced, in the second class. William's ago flung him in the low- 
 est, though his advancement would have entitled him to a place in 
 the second. The examination approached, and William wrote press- 
 ingly to his mother and uncle to attend. They did so, and reached 
 Newby's the day before the exercises commenced. William recog- 
 nized them at the fence, and ran out to meet them. Neither of them 
 knew him, till he greeted them, any more' than if they had never 
 seen him. His fine face was there, a little tanned, but that was all 
 of William Mitten l^hat was left. He had grown like a weed, and 
 developed as we have said The Captain looked at him in triumph — 
 the mother in toars. Mr. ■Newby was soon at the chaise aad introduced 
 to Mrs. M. Five or six ladies were standing at his door, observing 
 the new comers. 
 
 " I fear, Mr. Newby," said Captain Thompson, " that you will 
 not be able to accommodate us." 
 
 " Oh, very easy, if you can rough it a little for a few days." 
 
 " Why, where will you put us? Your house seems full already." 
 
 " Oh, we've plenty of houses, as you see." 
 
 " But those are the students' houses ; what are you going to do with 
 them ?" 
 
 " Oh, we cotton them upon such occasions as this, if necessary." 
 
 " Cotton them ?" 
 
 " Yes ; put 'em all in one hole and ram them tight together. How- 
 ever, I don't think that will be necessary. We've two large rooms 
 in the house, in one of which we will put the ladies, and in the oth- 
 er the gentlemen." 
 
124 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 
 
 '' Well, that will answer very well," said the Capt;»in. "Do you 
 take eharge of Mrs. Mitten, and William and Tom and I will atteud 
 to the horses and baggage." 
 
 " Why, this is a new horse, Tom," said William, as he sprung to 
 unsaddle a horse which Tom had led up. " Whose is he ?" 
 
 " He's Mas' Davjd's. He say if you do well while he's up here, 
 he gwine to give him to you. He's a tip top hos." 
 
 " Well, I've got him safe," said Bill. '' What's his name V 
 
 *' He name <S'/iop Draggum." -(Snap Dragon.) 
 
 " Here, Tom," said the Captain, ''take this trunk in the house " 
 
 '' I'll take it," uncle, said William. 
 
 " You can't carry it, my son; it's pretty heavy." 
 Let me try it," said Bill ; so saying, he flung it on his shoulder, 
 and marched off with it, with perfect ease*. 
 
 " Look yaa-nder !" exclaimed Tom, as he moved off. "Bless de 
 Lor', Mas' William done got a man 'ready." 
 
 The Captain saw him near the door with his burden without a tot- 
 ter, then turned, wiped his eyes twice, and was just blowing his nose 
 the third time, when William leaped the fence, to assist Tom in lead- 
 ing the horses- to the borse lot. i. 
 
 '•' Why, Bill," said the Captain, " I never saw a boy improve as 
 you have in all my life." 
 
 The ladies gathered at.Mr. Newby's were all of the first respectabili- 
 ty. They soon made Mrs. Mitten easy, and before they parted, seve- 
 ral of them and Mrs. Mitten promised to interchange visits most 
 certainly "if ever they cam© our way." (They never came our way.) 
 
 The night shut in and the woods were vocal in all directions with 
 rehearsals of speeches and parts of plays. A very comfortable sup- 
 per was provided for the guests, (increased by several, after the Cap- 
 tain's arrival) the mattresses were spread, all laid down, the gentle- 
 men talked till twelve, the ladies till tAvo, and all was hush — save 
 here and there ''the bubbling cry of some strong" suorer "in his ag- 
 ony." They were all, of necessity, up betimes the next morning, 
 when they declared generally that they had "had a most delightful 
 night's rest." Thus passed a wonderful night for Mrs. Mitten. 
 
 The next morning exhibited a complete metamorphosis of the stu- 
 dents. It was easy now to distinguish the 5ons of the Patricians 
 from those of the Plebs, though turkey-red and indigo-blue predomi- 
 nated largely over nankeen and gingham still. 
 
 From seven o'clock till nine, people of all ranks, ages, sexes and 
 sizes, might be seei) wending their way to the school house, or rather 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 125 
 
 t 
 
 to the area in front of it — for the examination was conducted under 
 the statel}- oaks of the campus. Some of the first men of the two 
 States were there. At nine the examination commenced. The stu- 
 dents, with very few exception.?, acquitted ttemsclvcs admirably. In 
 all the studies of his class, William distinguished himself. On this day 
 an incident occurred which was absolutely luxurious to all who dis- 
 liked Brace. The reader need hardly be told that however bright in 
 wit, or ingenious in teazing Brace might be, he was not very bright ia 
 his studies. He was in one of the Virgil classes, and he had caught 
 from a student, given to spouting poetry aloud, whenever he had any 
 in store to spout, the four first lines of Drydcn's translation of the 
 second book of the iEnead. Doctor John Casey was conducting the 
 • examination, flanked on his right and left with an imposing row of 
 _ dignitaries. "Begin,'' said the Doctor to Ned, who was at one ex- 
 treme of the class in tnorc senses than one, "at the second boflk of 
 the j3<]ncad. and read the Latin first." Ned did so to the extent of 
 six or eight liuos. 
 
 " Now translate." 
 
 Ned proceeded : « 
 
 '• All were .nltontivo to tho God-like ui.in, 
 
 Yv iu'ii from his lot'tv couch he thu.s becran." 
 
 • ■ '^ 
 
 . A roar of laughter bur.st from every one — loudest from the boys ; 
 for two reasons, first, because they gloried in Brace's mortification ; 
 and second, bccau.'jo they wished the company to understand froTa 
 this token that thej were thoroughly Tcrsed in the poetry of all lan- 
 guages under the sun. 
 
 *' Give us the translation in prose, if jou please," said the Doctor. 
 
 Ned continued: 
 
 " Great Queen, what you commnrnl me to relate, 
 Renews tho sad remembrance of our fate." 
 
 The laugh was repeated, but the Doctor had no occasion to repeat 
 his request; for Ned had exhausted his stock of poetry. His <hbut 
 was doubly unfortunate ; for besides exposing him to ridicule, it left 
 him wholly in the dark as to how much of the Latin his version had 
 covered. Sj ho began his literal translation two lines back of what 
 he bad already rendered ; and Dryden would have been amazed to 
 discover how he had butchered the Mantuan Bard, according to 
 Brace's translation. 
 
 This day and the next were consumed in like manner. On the 
 third day tho speaking commenced. 
 
 A stage of rough pknk was erected adjoining the school-bouse. 
 
128 MASTEE WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 On this sat tfee Judges, of whom William H. Crawford, John C. Cal- 
 houn, and William W. Bibb were three. These hardly ever failed 
 to attend the public exercises of Dr. Wuddel's school. The two first 
 had been his pupils, and the reader will excuse the digression, to 
 learn that the first wife of the Doctor was the sister of the secoad. 
 
 In front of the stage, large logs were laid parallel to each other on 
 which planks were placed at convenient distances apart, for seats. 
 The whole was covered over with a bush-arbor. It was but a scaat 
 provision for the throng tha.t attended upon this occasion ; but what 
 provision could accommodate all, when the number fell little, if any, 
 short of two thousand people ? The ladies, several hundreds in num- 
 ber, occupied all the scats. 
 
 Without going through the details of the exercises, suffice it to 
 say that Mitten took the premium in his class by the a\«'ard of the 
 judges, approved of by every man, woman and studrnt present at the 
 exhibition. He had a part in both the dramatic pieces ; and here 
 he acquitted himself, if possible, with more credit than in declama- 
 tion. When Mr. Calhoun, with a few complimentary words, pre- 
 sented him the prize, the whole assembly applauded loudly and cor- 
 dially. One pretty little girl, beautifully dressed, quite forgot her- 
 self, and kept on clapping after everybody else had done, till her 
 mother, laughing most heartily, stopped her. " Mitten, Mitten, 
 Mitten !" was on every lip. All the ladies, old and young, wanted 
 to kiss him; all the little girls fell in love with him. A thousand 
 compliments saluted the ear of Mrs. Mitten from lips that she knew 
 not. Through Captain Thomj)son, she had been made acquainted 
 with Doctor Waddel, before the exercises commenced, and through 
 him, with most of the gentlemen who sat as judges, and her ac- 
 quaintance was still farther extended by the sojourners at Mr. New- 
 by's; but/now everybody sought an introduction to her, and every- 
 body congratulated her upon the performance of her son. 
 
 Most of the judges waited upon her, and all of them had some- 
 thing flattering to say of William, or to him in her presence, for he 
 was always at- her side. 
 
 " Master Mitten," said Mr. Crawford, " I am proud to claim you 
 as a Georgian. Cultivate your brilliant talents as a duty and an 
 honor to the State that gave you birth." 
 
 " Master Mitten," said Mr. Calhoun, " the United States have aa 
 interest in you ; and should I live to see you in the prime of life, I 
 shall be sorely disappointed if I do not see you the admiration of 
 them all." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. • 127 
 
 As for Captain Thompson, he was in danger of going off by ex- 
 plosiou. He had been filling up with joy, from the first sight of 
 Bill, to the close of the exhibition ; and now to find him so far sur- 
 passing his most sanguine expectations ia|p6vcrything, to see hira 
 standing at the head of his classes in scholarship, and declamation, 
 and ahead of the whole school in dAmatic talent, to hoar him ap- 
 plauded by all, and specially by Messrs. Crawford and Calhoun, and 
 (though last not least,) to see his sister almost in transports, was 
 really perilous to the good Captain. He had tried to quench the 
 volcano that was in him with rain; that is to say, he had cried six 
 times, twice secretly, and four times publicly ; but this gave him 
 only momentary relief, l^esides, the fire kept kindling all the time, 
 and he could not keep crying all the time. Whithersoever he cast 
 his eyes he saw something to inflame his ecstacy, and what would 
 have been the consequence it were hard to tell, had not David Ram- 
 say sauntered near hira just at the critical moment — " Why, David, 
 my young pilot, how do you do?" said the Captain. " Come here, 
 my son, and let me introduce you to Mrs. Mitten, ray sister, mother 
 of William. Anna, this is David Ramsay, of whom you heard ml 
 speak !" " Hew do you do, Master Ramsay ?" said Mrs. Mitten, 
 smiling almost to a laugh. " I am very familiar with your name, for 
 ray brother could talk of no one else for some time after his return 
 from his first visit to this place." 
 
 '< I remember Captain Thompson very well ; but I cannot call to 
 mind anything that I said or did to make him i-emembcr me." 
 
 Here the Captain was a little at fault, but he soon rallied, and re- 
 plied : 
 
 " It was your prompt courtesy to us as strangers, David, the coin- 
 cidence of our names, but most of all, your connections, who are 
 known to all, that impressed you s^o permanently upon my memory. 
 I no sooner asked if Mr. Waddel was at home than you answered in 
 the affirmative, sprang to the door, invited me in, and brought Mr. 
 Waddel out to see me. This was but common politeness, to be sure, 
 but I nid not see any of your playu^tes oflTer to do the same thing. 
 But for your kindness I might have had to knock long at the door, 
 and sit long in the cold parlor, before Mr Waddel would have come 
 to my relief" 
 
 This interview was an admiralile safety-valve to the Captain. It 
 set his thoughts to running back to times and incidents, well calcu- 
 lateci to relievo him from over-pressure of ]oy. 
 
 The conversation with young Ramsay was but just ended, when 
 
128 MASTER WILLIAM illTTEN, 
 
 Doctor Hay stepped up and greeted the Captain and his sister with a 
 fervor which showed plainly that time had not abated his friendship 
 for them in the least. The greeting was returned with equal 
 warmth". The Doctor expressed his regret that he had been detained 
 by professional business at home until the last day of the exhibition ; 
 but added, that he had been amply compensated for his trouble in 
 coming, by the rich entertainment he had just enjoyed — ''An en- 
 tertainment, Mrs. Mitten/' continued he, " to which your son was 
 the largest contributor. I deem myself fortunate in haying my son 
 in the close connection of class-mate and room-mate with him." 
 
 Mrs. Mitten returned the compliment, by repeating what she said 
 upon hearing that her son had fallen into the same room and class 
 with the Doctor's son, only changing the terms of the compliment so 
 far as to accommodate it to the Doctor's ear. 
 
 "And now,'" continued Dr. Hay, "you must tarry with me to- 
 morrcfw night on your way home. Let us g) over to Petersburg this 
 afternoon, stay there to-night, take an early start in the morning, and 
 (barring accidents) we will reach my house by dinner time or a 
 little after. There rest until the next morning, when, if I can't 
 prevail on you to stay longer, T will give you an early breakfast, and 
 set ycu on your way in time to get home, without traveling much in 
 the heat of the day." 
 
 The invitation was cordially accepted, and as soon as one of Wil- 
 liam's small trunks could be packed with selections from his wardrobe 
 for the summer vacation, and Mrs. Mitten could renew her invitations 
 and promises to the few ladies who had not left, and return hev 
 thanksgiving to Mr. and Mrs. Newby for their kindness to her son, 
 and their hospitality to herself, and kiss Miss Thompson because 
 she bore the family name and both knew they must be related, 
 though neither could tell how, and give each of the house servants a 
 quarter of a dollar apiece for being willing to do for her all that Tom 
 did, and a dollar to the wash-v/oman for extra services, and a half 
 dollar (sent) to the ostler for fear that he might be disappointed and 
 her brother forget him — Mrs. Milten was ready to depart. 
 
 While all this was transacting, the chaise was at the fence, Doctor 
 Hay was sitting in his sulky, Gilbert was mounted on hi* father's 
 horse, Silverheels, William on Snap-dragon, and Captain Thompson 
 at the door getting comfortable fast. 
 
 The Captain escorted his sister to the chaise, she took her seat, 
 the. Captain took his, and off went the happiest company that ever 
 moved from Willington. Nothing of interest occurred on the way 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 129 
 
 to Petersburg; for 3Irs. Mitten, haviug to send back for her veil just 
 as she reached Dr. Wnddel's, was not even attended with inconve- 
 nience, as she declared that she could not think of passing by j\Ir. 
 Waddel's door without lighting and bidding him good-bye, and 
 thanking hitn for his kindness to her son. These little duties con- 
 sumed exactly the time needful for recovering the veil. It gave the 
 Captain, too, an opportunity of charging William and Tom to notice 
 well the road, so that either of them might find.it without difficulty 
 on their return. Doctor Hay's servant, Quash, went back- for the 
 missing article, and strange to say, found it readily. The dusk of 
 the evening found the company at Mrs. Ragland's, in Petersburg. 
 
 The reader will naturally enquire where the immense throng which 
 attended Dr. Waddel's exhibitions found accommodation. We an- 
 swer, at all the houses within six or seven miles of Willington, and 
 at the four villages of Lisbon, Petersburg, A'ienna, and Richmond. 
 The three first were tolerably thrifty little villages at the time of 
 which we are speaking. Petersburg was quite an active, busy, 
 commercial little town. It was situated in the fork of the Savannah 
 and Broad Rivers, and contained some eight or ten stores, with the 
 usual supplement of grogshop?, and the very unusual supplement of 
 a billiard-table. Notwithstanding these last, the citizens of the place 
 were generally remarkable for their refinement, respectability, intel- 
 ligence and hospitality. The dwelling houses far outnumbered the 
 stores and shops. It was separated from Lisbon by Broad Kiver, 
 and from Vienna by the Savannah. Lisbon we believe could never 
 boast of more than two stores and a groggery, and as many dwellings. 
 Vienna surpas.sed Lisbon in everything, but exactly how far, and in 
 what we are not able to say, except in John Glover's house and store, 
 which had no match in Lisbon. The road leading to Willington 
 from Vienna ascended a hill, about a mile from the latter place, which 
 was crowned with Richmond. This town was very compactly built. 
 It consisted of one dwelling house, one doctor's shop, one kitchen, 
 one stable, one corn-crib, and one smoke-house. Its white population 
 consisted of Doctor Thomas Casey, his wife, one or two children, and 
 Warier (or Waller) Beckh', a student of medicine. 
 
 Neither of the four towns surpassed this in hospitality. Doctor 
 €asey'H house was open to all, and his heart was as open as his 
 house — so was his wife's. It was a great rc^^ort of the beaux and 
 belles of the neighboring villages; here they were always made wel- 
 come and happy. In these villages, the remotest of which was not 
 over seven miles from Willington, was ample entertainment for ail 
 
130 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 who attended tlie Exhibition, and could not procure it elsewhere. 
 
 Captain Thompson and Mrs. Mitten spent a happy night at Doctor 
 Hay's, and were at home the next day by five in the aftornoon. As 
 they stopped at Mrs. M.'s door, the Captain inquired of William 
 how he liked Snap-dragon. 
 
 "Oh! I am delighted with him, Unele. I think he's the finest 
 hprge I ever saw." 
 
 "Well; he"s yours, my son. So you see if your Unele scolds when 
 you do ill, he rewards handsomely when you do well." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, thank you, Uncle, a thousand times. You never 
 will find me doinj^ ill again, I promise you. I am so glad that "you 
 sent me to 3Ir. Waudel's I am so glad that, you would not allow me 
 to leave there when I wanted to — you have been, you are a tather to 
 me, and the very best of fath " 
 
 " Well, that'll do, my son — you paid me for him before I gave him 
 to you.' Remember your pledges, as often as you ride him I" 
 
 Alas ! CaiDtain, where was your usual forecast when you made this 
 present ? 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 The cup of Mrs. Mitten's happiness was not yet full. In less 
 than a month after Captain Thompson's return from Willington, he 
 embraced religion and joined the Methodist Church ; and in the 
 course of a week his wife followed his example. The story which 
 he told at the first Love Feast which he attended after his conver- 
 sion, is worthy of being recorded : 
 
 " I have had," said he " for many years before me, a most beauti- 
 ful example of the Christian character in my dear sister. I never 
 could see but one fault in her, and that was ' a fault which leaned 
 to virtue's side :' too much indulgence of her son. She embraced 
 religipn early in life; and often when I have seen her at her devo- 
 tions, my conscience has smitten me sorely. But I always managed 
 to silence its reproofs, for a time at least. Oh, how eloquent is the 
 godly life of a sister ! Whether because she was my sister, that the 
 inward monitor would not forsake me, although repelled a thousand 
 times ; or because I have had for many years a secret leaning towards 
 religion, which prolonged his visits, or some unknown cause, I can- 
 not tell ; but a month never rolled over our heads, that I did not 
 observe in her the gleaming or broad out-shining of some heavenly 
 virtue, which came " like lightning to my soul." 
 
MASrER WILLIAM MITTEN. 131 
 
 " As some of you know, about a month ago my sister dispatched 
 a servant with some comforts for her boj at school in South Carolina. 
 Knowint:; that I would bitterly oppose the measure, she kept it se- 
 cret from me. I found it out, however, and posted off after the 
 servant in a great rage. The blunders of the negro increased my 
 rage. I stopped at a house to enquire for hiRi. A plain illiterate 
 man came out and informed me that he had left the plain large road 
 and gone off on a by-way. In my wrath I cursed outright, and on 
 the trip, I repealed the sin oftcner, I believe, than I had in the 
 whole course of my life before. As I turned to leave the good 
 hearted man, ' Stranger,' said he to me, ' have you ever reflected 
 upon the sin of profane swearing ?' I was in no frame of mind for 
 reflecting upon any thing, and in the worst possible, for receiving 
 religious lectures ; but a flash of respect for the good man came 
 over me, which kept me from insulting him, and I replied, that I 
 was not in the habit of profane swearing." -^ 
 
 " My pursuit ended and object gained, I now set my face home- 
 ward, and ou the Way had nothing to do but to reflect. My mind 
 had hardly resumed its accustomed tone, when the question of my 
 road-side friend, in the rude accents in which he put it (for I havo 
 not given it in his own terras) forced itself upon my memory. As- 
 sociated as it was, with the ignorance, the artlessness and innocence 
 of the propounder, I smiled, and endeavored to divert my thoughts; 
 but the question would control them, so I let it have' its way : ' Have 
 you ever reflected upon the sin of profane swearing!' No, honest, 
 untutored yeoman, I never have ! What a sin it is ! Every other 
 fiin has something to plead in its behalf. The gamester, the cheat, 
 the swindler, the thief, the robber, the pirate, sin in the hope of 
 gain. The assassin for the gratification of revenge — the drunkard 
 to appease a raging thirst — the prodigal, for many gratifications. 
 But thou, oh, profane swearer ! what have you to plead in the ex- 
 tenuation of thy offence ? It is purely gratuitous. In «ne "single, 
 short imprecation, you embody sins enough to damn a world. You 
 insult the Almighty, you trifle with bis Holy Name, you violate the 
 law of reverence, the law of love, the law of humanity, the law of 
 peace! You set God's power at defiance and invoke God's power 
 to cra.sli your neighbor and your brother I And all i'or what? 
 What momentary gain do you derive or promise yourself from your 
 sin of sins ? Often, most commonly, you have not even the flimsey 
 pltea of passion to gloss over your crime. Yuu mingle it in your 
 sports, your revels, your banquets, and horrify it with a laugh !" 
 
132 MASTER WILLIAJ[ MITTEN. 
 
 " You will cot wonder, brethren, that I became alarmed, and re- 
 solved never to swear another oath while I lived. This was as far 
 as I went at the time ; but it was not as far as J. fell ^ by a long, long 
 way. Thenceforward my sins were more constantly and vividly 
 before me than ever, until I sought the pardon of them, in God's 
 own way, and as I believe found it — I am strongly tempted to say, 
 'I know I found it.' " 
 
 In religion, the captain was as he had been in every thing else that he 
 undertook : open, active, liberal, ardent, aealous, laborious, untiring. 
 What some Christians call a cross., such as holding family prayer, 
 particularly before strangers of rack, praying in public, and speaking 
 in public on proper occasions, was to him no cross at all ; and we 
 advise those Christians who cannot perform these offices, (and there 
 are such) not to dignify them with the name of crosses. 
 
 Captain Thompson and his wife led off a great revival in the vil- 
 lage, upon which Mrs. Glib took occasion to deliver her theology 
 very freely. 
 
 " Well, well, well !" said she to Mrs. Lark, this is what you call 
 getting religion, is it ? Sinning all your life, and then kneeling 
 down there two or three days and then jumping up a Christian !" 
 
 " But, Mrs. Glib," said Mrs. Lark, " you don't remember what 
 they say. They say that under Peter's preaching three thousand 
 were converted and joined the church in one day." 
 
 " Weil, is old Howell, Peter, or is old Sherman, Paul"/" 
 
 " No, but they say that they preach the same gospel that Peter 
 and Paul did^ " 
 
 " Oh yes, thei/ saj/, they saj/, and they'll say anything to get up 
 an excitement, and to scare people. Now I love religion — realj 
 genuine religion — that kind of religion which a person goes to work 
 calmly, soberly, and deliberately to get. When I get religion, this 
 is the sort I mean to get ; but this wild-fire sort of religion I don't 
 believe ia at all." 
 
 "But they say you don't get it when and as you want it." 
 
 " They do ! I should like to know how tkey know what I can do, 
 and what I can't. Now, mind what I tell you, nine out of ten of 
 these flashy converts will back-slide before the year's out — you mark 
 it! You remember we had just such a fuss as this five years ago, 
 and old Groat and John Dunn and Sally Nix, and Polly Pines all got 
 religion and were mighty happy ; and where are they now '/" 
 
 " But Mrs. Glib, you must do them the justice to say that a great 
 many more of them than that, held on to their religion." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 133 
 
 " Yes, such holding on as it was. Holding on like Sam Strap ; 
 who is mighty sanctified all day Sunday, and slandering people's 
 children all the week — saying that genteel people's children are lit- 
 tle better than a den of thieves. That's what you call holding on, is 
 it? That's what you call religion, is it? And there's old Turner 
 prosecuting little boys for a little harmless sport — and he a preacher 
 at that ! Don't tell me anything about any such religion as that ! 
 You'd kill yourself laughing if you could see my Flora Claudia La- 
 vinia take them ofl". Now you know Mrs. Lark, that I don't allow' 
 my children to make game of religious people of any sort. But some 
 nights when we come home from these night meetings, she beo'ins 
 before 1 have time to stop her, and when she begins I get in such a 
 laughing fit, I can't stop her. She takes off old Howell to perfec- 
 tion — his very voice, action, and words — then old 'brother' jMcBoon'f 
 praying— the very twang. And old 'sister' McRea, creeping about 
 among the mourners. And ' brother' Wilson's singing! It seems 
 to me sometimes she will kill me. I always reprove her for it. I 
 said to her last night, Flora, you naughty girl, you really must quit 
 this, if you don't T shall get right angry with you — they meau well, 
 poor things, and you must not make fun of them." 
 
 Nine weeks after this conversation, 3Irs. Glib was brought to 
 death's door with the biliou« fever; the first man that she sent for to 
 pray for her was ('aptain Thompson; the second was "brother" 
 McBoon. The lir.st woman she asked to pray for her was Mrs. Mit- 
 ten, and the .second was *• sister" McKea — charging every one of 
 them, while they prayed for her, to pray for her children, also, and 
 for Flora in particular She professed conversion in two days from 
 the date of the first prayer that was put up in her behalf, and died. 
 Flora never professed conversion. She married, in three weeks after 
 her mother's death, a worthless, silly fellow, named Curt, who ad- 
 ministered upon Mrs. Glib's estate because no one else would, took 
 the guardianship of the boys, because no one else would ; hired a 
 man of some property and no principle, named Carp, to go upon his 
 bonds, sold out all the property of the estate, except the negroes, 
 as soon as he could, and moved ofl' with his security, and the whole 
 tribe, white and black, to. the frontier of Alabama, to the great re- 
 lief and greater delight of every body. Nine years afterwards, the 
 younger (Jlib (Ben.) came back to the village to learn something 
 about the estate. To the amazement of all who knew the Aimily, he 
 was a decent, pious, but ignorant n)an. PTis .story was that Curt and 
 Carp settled near each other in Alabama. That in a very few years 
 
134 MASTEll WILLIAM MJTTKK. 
 
 after they got out there, Carp had gofc from Curt every negro that 
 belonged to the estate, aud then moved still fiirther West. That the 
 elder Glib got into a difficulty with a gambler, who shot him. Of 
 his sister, he could be got to say no more than that he did not kuow 
 where she was. That his other brother was thrown from a horse in 
 a quarter race aad killed. That he himself, seeing nothing but pov- 
 erty and ruin and disgrace all around him, had sought and obtained 
 religion. That as soon as he did so, a good Baptist man of consider- 
 able wealth took him by the hand, gave him employment on his 
 farm, telling him that if he would do well, he would give hint 
 good wages till he came of age, and then give him a little start iu 
 the world. That his friend had b'J<^n as good as his word, and that 
 he had now enough to live on comfortably j though he was not rich. 
 
 The records showed of what the cstxitc consisted. He took copies, 
 went to the old family mansion, sauntered round it for a time, wept, 
 and left the village forever. 
 
 Having gone thus far with the Glib family, wo had as well dispose 
 of it finally — it is replete with moral Icssona. Carp had played his 
 cards adroitly to avoid responsibility. He knew the character of 
 the boys, and jud^^ed that none of them would live long enough to 
 call him to account. He knew, too, it v/ould be an easy matter to 
 wheedle Curt out of all that he was worth individually or representa- 
 tively, and conjectured that as soon as poverty began to stare her iu 
 the face, Mrs. Curt would be BoUiug lawyers upon his trail. He 
 therefore, from the day that they left Georgia, became cxcecdinglj 
 kind and esecedingly attentive to her ladyship. Ho would often 
 speak to her playfully of her husband's inefficiency and bad manage- 
 ment — declare that but for her, nothing could have induced him to 
 become his security ; " but I saw," said be, "every body hanging off^ 
 nobody seemed to care anything for you or your poor orphan brothers; 
 and I said to myself, well, as for the boys, they will soon be big 
 enough to shirk for themselves — they can rough it ; but what is to 
 become of Mrs. Curt i* 1 can't see her suffer, and I'll be her friend 
 if it costs me every dollar I have in the world." 
 
 He used a thousand seductive arts to entoil, aud he fcueeeeded. 
 He loaned money liberally to Curt, often advising him in the pre- 
 sence of his wife not to take it. " Mr. Curt," he would say, " two 
 per cent, a month will ruin you. I can get that from other people, 
 and, therefore, I don't like to loan for less, and I wil not lend it to 
 you unless Mrs. Curt says so." 
 
 " How much," said Mrs. Curt, " is two per cent?" 
 
 " Two dollars on every hundred dollars," said Carp. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 135 
 
 '•' Two dollars on every hundred dollars ! why that in very little 
 indeed ! I'd borrow all the money ia Alabama at that price, if I 
 could get it." 
 
 " Yiis, Mrs. Curt, but you will not like to sec your negroes under 
 mortgage to secure the debt." 
 
 " Mortgage I What's that ?" 
 
 " Its a pledge of a negro to secure the debt." 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing — surely Mr. Curt can pay the little sums that 
 he borrows with only two per cent, on them." 
 
 The "little sums" ran up so fast that in a few years every negro 
 that Curt had in his hands was under mortgage. Not all for money 
 loaned, but for corn, fodder, pork, bacon, and other things sold ; and 
 for large balances in horse-swaps, carpenters' bills paid, and large 
 outlays for Curt, in erecting a mill; for Mr. Curt having a fine mill 
 scat on his land, said it would never do to let such a fine water-power 
 be lost ; so be commenced building a large mill when, as yet, there 
 was nobody in the neighborhood to patronize it, and when bis brain 
 wad about as well suited to manage a mill, as a claw-hammer is to 
 maul rails with. 
 
 About the time that the last mortgage ripened to maturity, Mr. 
 Carp concluded to go "and take a view, as he said, of the Loniaiana 
 country." He went, and came back so delighted with it, that ho 
 must needs move there forthwith. ]5ut he could not go until he col- 
 lected hie Alabama debts. Ciirt and he came to a settlement, when 
 it was found that Curt owed him more by three hundred dollars than 
 the negroes were worth by Curt's own valuation ; he agreed, howev- 
 er, as Curt was a particular friend, to take the negroes at Curt's esti- 
 mate, and give him a receipt in full. Curt felt very grateful for the 
 Icindnes,^, and pr.niptly signed a bill of sale of the negroes, drawn up 
 by Carp himself, in which he took every precaution to guard a<Miust 
 ''offer claps" as he called them, and which, in a/ter/imes gave a west- 
 ern lawyer very great annoyance. Here it is : 
 
 '• Whereas, on settlement this day made between myself and John 
 Carp, it appears that I am in his debt for monies advanced to me on 
 my own account, and also as administrator of Mrs. Brigita Glib, and 
 also !is ;^uurdian of the children of said Mrs. Glib, to the amount of 
 ten thousand dollars; and wherea.s, I did execute a mortgage to said 
 John ..r the wlihin foiirteen negroes tc secure the said debt, said ne- 
 ^rn(-s not being wortli by three hundred dollars as much as said debt 
 at uij own valuiition, which mortgage is given up on my siguin^-this 
 bill of sal^and whereas said John did become my Beeuritv &a admin- 
 
136 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 istrator, and guardian aforesaid, and I being willing to make him safe 
 from any loss or losses for becoming my security as aforesaid, do 
 make this bill of sale for that purpose also, for all these considera- 
 tions I do sell and convey to the said John the following negroes 
 namely:" (naming them, their sizes, sexes, and ages.) "And I 
 warrant them to said John against all claim by me or any body claim- 
 ing the same as heir of Mrs. Glib or any other person whatsoever, 
 &c., &c." 
 
 This remarkable bill of sale Mr. Carp required should be signed 
 by Mrs. Curt as well as her husband, and that Curt should sign it 
 "for himself and as administrator and guardian." Curt expressed 
 his readiness to comply with-all these requisitions but the first. As 
 to this he said, " he doubted whether his wife could be induced to 
 sign it." " Well," said Carp, '' ask her, and if she refuses, all well, 
 it will make no diiference." 
 
 Curt went to her with downcast looks and told her all the circum- 
 stances. To his astonishment she expressed her perfect readiness to 
 sign it. '-Sign it," said she, "yes, that I will. Mr. Carp has been 
 so kind to us, that I can refuse him nothing.'' The bill of sale was 
 executed to Mr. Carp's wishes. "And now, friend Curt," said Carp, 
 "what are yoRgoing to do with no help here ? You'd better bundle 
 up and go with me to Louisiana. I'll befriend you to my last dol- 
 lar." 
 
 " What am I to do with my mill and my little household plunder 
 and farm ?" 
 
 "True," said Carp, pondering — "you can't well leave them — oh, 
 I'll tell you how to manage it. Advertise them for sale two months 
 hence. I'll take your wife and child on, and fix her up by the time 
 you get there. When you've sold out all but your best horse, mount 
 him and come on. Sell for cash, for it will be inconvenient for you 
 to come back to collect money. Pity when I was selling my land to 
 Watson I did not think to put yours in the trade too. May be you 
 can sell it to him yet. By this plan you can come on with no trou- 
 ble or expense hardly." 
 
 Curt said he liked the plan mightily, but doubted whether his wife 
 would agree to it. It was submitted to her, and she assented to it 
 readily ; only charging her husband to come on as soon as po,ssible. 
 In four days after this interview, Carp and all his negroes were 
 ready to take the road. He had provided a nice little Jersey for 
 Mrs. Curt and her child, and for fear of accidents, he nromised to 
 drive it himself all the way to Louisiana. Just as the caravan was 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN, 13? 
 
 about setting out, " Stop," said Curt, "where shall I find you in 
 Louisiana?" 
 
 '< Sure enough !" exclaimed Carp, "Now didn't we like to make 
 a pretty business of it I You will find us in (7i(/t7.i7j/r/.-)'»iair Parish, 
 on the Sabine river. Here, I'll give you the name on a piece of pa- 
 per — Tonnafoosky is the town where the Post office is. If you writfe 
 before you hear from us, direct your letter to Tomw/"os7ty Post of- 
 five, ChuckilurJihnaw J^arish, Louiaiaiui. There, it is all written out 
 so you can't miss it." So saying, the whole caravan moved forward, 
 leaving poor Curt in loneliness, wifeless, childless, helpless, and-in 
 money penniless. Carp settled on Bufialo creek, Wilkinson county, 
 Mississippi, where he and Mrs. Curt lived as man and wife for many 
 years. Several children were the fruit of this union. Mrs. Curt 
 had been dead about three months when Clib traced Carp to his 
 hiding place. Her death was awful. When the Doctor told her 
 that she could not possibly live more than twenty-four hours, she 
 raised a scream that was terrific. " Doctor," cried she. '• I am ruined, 
 I'm lost. Lost, lost, lost forever!" A miuister*was sent for and 
 came. ** You needn't talk to me, sir — you needn't pray for me. sir — 
 I thank you — but if you knew — oh what shall I do ! " 
 
 " If I knew what, ma'am ? Is it too bad to be told " 
 
 " It might be told, but telling it will do no good and much harm — 
 Itisn'tji)a,s\<!C(if, it's 7UJW— ^ycs, it has been for year.';, it's now, it's all 
 the time." ^ 
 
 " Can't you tell it to your- husband, or some of us ?" said one of 
 the several ladies at her bedside. 
 
 " He knows it— he knows all about it. No, my hufthand doesn't 
 know it — he's innocent, poor man — yes, he knows part of it. but not 
 all of it — not half of it, not a quarter of it, not a thousandth part 
 •of it — wasn't it a shame to treat him so ?" (another scream.) " Her 
 mind's gone," said one. "No, it isn't ! 1 know all that I am say- 
 ing—I know you, I know everybody here. It isn't anything passed, 
 I tell you. It'a note, I'm dying in it, and what good can praying do? 
 It's too late to get out of it. If I were to get well I couldn't get 
 out of it. My children scare me, my husband scares me, the ne- 
 groes scare me ; my thoughts scare me, everything — send for Mr Carp 
 here, and you all go out of the room. Go clean away, send all the 
 children away, and all the servants, and I'll tell him all about it." 
 
 It was done, and Carp entered the room, 
 
 " Mr. Carp, see what you've brought me to ! I never would have 
 Ihought of it, if it hadn't been for you^ " 
 
138 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 "Haven't I treated you well, Flora ?" " Yes, better than I de- 
 served ; but what does it all amount to ? You've brought me to ev- 
 erlasting ruin. It was bad enough in me to leave my poor husbandj 
 but to leave him as we did — with nothing to live on — to fill his ears 
 with lies — to .make fun of him — to send him all over the country 
 ■hunting for us !" 
 
 " Oh, Flora, don't take on so ! Try and compose yourself. Every- 
 thing depends upon it. Think of your children ! The thing's past 
 and gone now, and fretting over it can't mend it " 
 
 "Our children ! Our children ! Look ther« ! Look there! 
 
 Mr. Carp ! Mr. Carp ! Mr. Carp" Another scream — and her 
 
 mind was gone. She lay for a few minutes in a stupor, during which 
 the company were called back. Then she began in a low, calm .tone 
 of voice: ^ 
 
 " Ma ! Ma ! Ma, did you tell them ? you're scared 
 
 ' Pray for Flora !' You laughed No No yes, both 
 
 In the Pulpit Mrs. McKae (a wild laugh !) Mr. Wilson ! (anoth- 
 er) There, its becl time -All dead but me ! Ben's alive we'll 
 
 all meet in heaven He was so stupid Sabine !" Another 
 
 convulsive laugh — and she died. 
 
 Carp was asked repeatedly what it was that distressed his wife so 
 .much in her last moments. He said she had told him all about if, 
 but that it was nothing of any consequehce — she was out of her 
 head. 
 
 Benjamin Glib soon explained the mystery. After satisfying him- 
 self fully that Carp was in Wilkinson, he went to a lawyer in Natchex, 
 and unfolded the whole history of his case from the death of his 
 mother to Carp's elopement with his sister. Mr. Stark, his Attor- 
 ney, advised him to remain in Natchez until he (Stark) could go to 
 Wilkinson, and ascertain all the particulars of Carp's history from 
 his settlement in Mississippi to the time present. Two days were 
 amply sufficient to assure him that Glib's story was true in every 
 particular. He im'uiediately took the preliminary steps necesary to 
 the institution of suits against Carp, in behalf of both Glib and 
 Curt's daughter Sarah, now going under the name of Sally Carp. 
 The child's interests could not be secured without letters of guardian- 
 ship; and Stark assf^ted in procuring them. He did not allow Glib 
 to apply for them until he had fortified himself with proofs impreg- 
 nable, to sustain his application. As soon as it was made, all Wood- 
 ville was thrown in a ferment. Carp's infamy was exposed, and the 
 horrid death of his putative wife disposed everybody to believe it 
 
MASTER WILIJAM ATITTEN". 1;'.9 
 
 Sarah caused some difficulty at first, but as it was much more ngreo- 
 able to her to pass for a Icgitimato than an illetritiniate child, it was 
 easily removed. The suits were instituted and recoveries had which 
 swept away nearly the whole of Oarp's estate. But we must not 
 suppreps the history of the bill of sale. 
 
 As Roon as he was served with process, Carp went to Mr. Smith, a 
 great Attorney of Woodville, to engage his services. "Well," says 
 Bmith, '- let us take up one case at a time; what have you to say to 
 Glib'e ease ?" 
 
 ** Lord bless your soul, squire," said Carp, " I've eot 'em tied so 
 fast that they c;in't kick. Turn which way tliey will, they're headed." 
 
 " Well, Carp, I'm glad to hear you soy that, old fellow, for public 
 prejudice is very strong against you." 
 
 •'Just look at that bill of sale, squire, and tell me how they're to 
 get out of that, will you '(" 
 
 Smith read it, and while reading it, his countenance assumed 
 nearly every variety tf oxpressica that the humau countenance can 
 ussumo. When he had finished— 
 
 *' Well," said he, <'of all the Bills of Sale that ever I laid my 
 eyes upon, that beats. If you had come to mo and told me to draw 
 up an in.struraent, in the form of a bill of sale, that at all limes, and 
 in all Cpurts would be equal to a confession of judgment by j'ou, in 
 any suit brought against you, by any poif-on claiming under Mrs, 
 Olib, I couldn't have come within gun-shot of this for that purpose. 
 Burn it up immediately — destroy it — what's your wife's name doing 
 to that bill of sale ? Isn't Flora Curt the woman you've been living 
 with as your wife ? But it's not worth while to talk about it — de- 
 stroy it, I tell you, imracdiatcly !" 
 
 *' And then what title will 1 have to show for all these uogrcei 
 and " 
 
 " None; trust to the defecte of Glib's title, or to his not b?ii'gable 
 to identify them " 
 
 " [3 th.it the be^-t advice that you can give me?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I'll get another iawjor. ' Stark would give me the sam» 
 advice; I undcr.st;ind it !" 
 
 " What do you mean, yon cheating, swindling, adulterous rascal ?" 
 eaid Smith, moving to the baek room with a stick hunting motion. 
 Carp was gotic before his return. 
 
 Carp employed a young attorney of Woodville, who confirmed his 
 views of the bill of Bale, in every particular. "There's the title," 
 
140 MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 said lie, '•'■lilainly and distinctly set forth — not simply upon a (jood 
 consideration, which would have been all-sufficient, but also upon a 
 valuable consideration, and, to make assurance doubly sure, upon di- 
 vers other considerations. This title, like the resistless torrent, is 
 sustained by various tributaries from perfectly pure sources. Then 
 it is fortified by a rampart of truth and generosity on your part, Mr. 
 Carp, that must forever protect it from the imputation of fraud. All 
 else is mere surplusage. How such a profound jurist as Mr, Smith 
 is, could have advised you to destroy this all important document, I 
 cannot conceive, unless he overlooked that sterling legal maxim: 
 Utile per inutile non vitiatur. " 
 
 Carp was enraptured with this impromptu display of legal ability, 
 rejoiced at his change of Attornies, and highly flattered at finding 
 his skill in guarding against "■after claps" so fully avouched. 
 
 Far as we have digressed from the direct path of our narrative, we 
 are strongly tempted to follow this bill of sale through the several 
 Courts in which it ujade its appearance, but in charity to the reader's 
 patience we forbear. Suffice it to say, that as soon as Stark saw it, 
 he took a copy of it, served notices to produce it in all the cases, and 
 never let it get out of Court until it had, as we have said, turned 
 over nearly the whole of Carp's estate to Glib and his niece. This 
 is but one of a thousand instances in which rascality has over-reach- 
 ed itself, and been made subservient to justice. 
 
 Glib and his niece returned to Alabama, rich, and both prosperep 
 in life. Curt was lucky. Watson purc*hasedhimout entirely, in less 
 than two months after Carp's departure, at tolerably fair prices, and 
 he set out in quest of his wife with three thousand dollars iu his 
 pocket. He had not gone far in Louisiana before he learned that 
 there were no such places in the State as Chuckiluckimaw and Ton- 
 nafoosky : so coming upon a valuable piece of land, he purchased it 
 cheap, and settled down upon it with two negro women, proceeds of 
 his surplus funds. His land grew iu value and his negroes in num- 
 ber, and thus when he died, (a little before his wife,) ho left a right 
 pretty little estate, which went to swell the fortune of his daughter. 
 It would have been lost to her, but for a letter which he wrote to a 
 friend in Georgia, just before his death, who three or four years af- 
 terwards went to visit Glib. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 As soon as (kptain Thompson joined Uie Methodists, his sister ex- 
 pressed a wish to attach herself to the same church to which he and 
 his wife belonged. 
 
 '• No, Anna," said the Captain, " I advise you a<i,ainst it. I am 
 sure you cannot be a better christian in the Methodist Church than 
 you have proved yourself to be in the Presbyterian Church. If I 
 can be as bright an ornament to my (^hurch, as you arc to your^, I 
 shall deem myself greatly blessed- '" 
 
 " Brother, you greatly over-rate jny piety. I have a great many 
 faults and weaknesses which your eye ijcvev sees, but wliicli I see 
 and mourn over, and struggle against, ever}- day." 
 
 " I shall hardly bo convinced of luy error by that kind of proof, 
 my dear sister. One brazen sin would bring your piety in question 
 with me more than a hundred faults and weaknesses hidden in the 
 heart, and mourned over and struggled against every day. But 
 enough of this — stay with your people, with whom you have long held 
 sweet communion, to whom you are endeared by a thousand ties, and 
 who are entitled to the benefit of your influence and example. I am not 
 sure that the division of the Church into sects is not of God's ap- 
 pointment. Some good results from the division, obviously. It se- 
 cures the Scriptures from interpolation and mutilation, stimulates 
 the several churches to good works, liberality, generosity, and activi- 
 ty in the advancement of the Redeemer's Kingdom ; brings truth to 
 the test of open, fair and able discussion, guards tiie church from 
 new heresies, if it cannot eradicate old ones, and eflfectually preveut.s 
 a union of Church and State in this blessed countr}-, at least. So 
 much good does it, and much more would it do, if each sect would 
 practice, as it should, the heavenly precepts of love and charity 
 taught them by their common Head. If others will not practice 
 them let us do it, my dear sister ; and be assured, if our example 
 passes unobserved on earth, it will not be overlooked in Heaven." 
 
 " Those are sweet counsels, my dear brother, and they have al- 
 ready banished from my mind every thought of quitting my church. 
 It is strange, very strange, but I cannot dispossess my mind of the 
 thouglit that some heavy calamity is going to befall us. I am too 
 happy for earth. I question whether there is this day a human be- 
 ing this side of Heaven as happy as I am. You once said to me 
 
142 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 sportively, ' turu Methodist and shout,' and now I could do it with 
 right good will. T can liardly keep from it " 
 
 *< And why should you wish to keep from it ? It is one of the 
 means which Providence has appointed for relieving the overcharged 
 heart, and I do not see wliy it should be repressed. I know why it 
 is repressftd, very well. It is regarded hy most people as very un- 
 dignified — only, however, when most peoj'h ara devoid of the feel- 
 ing that provokes it. Let tho people, dignitaries and all, witness a 
 closely contested election of deep interest; at one moment it aeems 
 to be going one way, at the next the other, and thus the contestants 
 alternately pass each other, until they stand abreast with but two 
 vottjs in the box — they come out for the same man. Wbat do you 
 see, then, among the victors ? One weeps outright with joy, another 
 laughs frantically, another venta the long suppressed breath, and 
 smiles ; but all applaud, and nine-tenths raise a shout that may be 
 heard for miles. There ia nothing at all undignified in this! It is 
 perfectly natural. Now they are all moved by the same spirit ; but 
 it manifests itself in different ways according to the different tem- 
 peraments of the crowd. I suppose if a battery of artillery were 
 bearing upon them, and they, were forbidden to shout, uudar pain of 
 being fired upon, they might suppress it (doubtful if all would); but 
 what would be thought of the man who would recommend such a 
 measure, or any milder one, to prevent this honest outburst of feel- 
 ing? When "General V/ashiragton passed through the country on his 
 Southern tour, he was met by multitudes at every town and village 
 at which he stopped. As soon as the throngs caught a glimp.se of the 
 approaching hero, they made the welkin ring with their shouts. As 
 he passed through the streets, women waved their handkerchiefs, 
 and wept ; old soldiers wept, but most waved their hats, and shouted 
 again and again, loud and long. He would have been regarded as a Tory 
 who gave no outward demonstration of joy at such times. The very 
 •nextdaythe.se same people would go 'to a Methodist meeting, and 
 sneer at a new convert for shouting. And what has Washington 
 done for any one of us, compared with what Christ has done for the 
 new convert ? What the liberty which Wa.shington gained for us, 
 compared with * the lUjp.riy wliercivitli ^'hrtst Jias made us free f What 
 can we promise ourselves from this great Republic, compared with 
 the Savior's legacy to the sokliars of the Cross ? At His birth the 
 angels of heaven shouted. His second coming to earth will be her- 
 alded by-^ shout. At His triumphant entry into Jerusalem, the 
 whole multitude of His disciples shouted. The Pharisee {strk-t re- 
 
MASTER WILLIAM Ml WEN. 143 
 
 ^j<7j'oMr::/s) begged him to rebuke *them. What was His reply? */ 
 tell you, if these should hold tlip.ir peace, (he stones iconld immediately 
 cry out.' But He had not yet died for these disciples. No one is offend- 
 ed at a shout from the dying Christian ! In the times of David and 
 the Prophets, it was not regarded as undignified in holy men to 
 shflut. I used to laugh at the shouting ChristianB. myself. I u^sed 
 to be provoked with them, until T learned something of their feelings, 
 and then I waa very ready to excuse them. Prom rxmsing I went 
 to thinking, and from thinking to reading upon the subject; and the 
 result of my deliberations and research is what I have delivered to 
 you. Now, do n<->t mi.suuderstaud mo. I do not say that Christians 
 ought to shout, much less that nhonting is an infallible test of 
 Chi'istianity ; and least of all, that there are not juHt as good 
 Christian.s who never .•^hout, as there ai'e who do. 1 do not believe 
 that there is a better shouting Christian in our Church than you are ; 
 but I de say that it is the most natural thing in the world that 
 Christians of some temperaineuts should shout, if I understand any- 
 thing about reliction ; and that ridicule of it comes with ill grace 
 from a shouting world, or a non-ahoating Churoh." 
 
 *' But brother, how does it happen that there is shouting in wo 
 other Church in the world but the Methodist?" 
 
 " Just because the Methodist is, (in one sense) the newest church 
 in the world. "When rve join a church we as naturally drop into the 
 ways of its people as we do into its creed. I know very well where 
 they all began ; it was in such a scene of excitement and clamor as 
 amazed the lookers-on, :jnd led them to mock, and to say that the 
 converts were fall of new wine. But all churches will, in process 
 of time, conform themselves to the opinions and manners of the 
 world, just as far as they can, without compromising their prin- 
 ciples. Prudence or policy may dictate thi.s course — to avoid pci-se- 
 oution, ridicule and contempt, or to gain popularity, i^cvcrdid the 
 world show any mercy, not to say charity to religious excitements. 
 The Methodists have hardly yet passed the fiery ordeal tliroiigh 
 which all zealous, .self-denying God serving, world-dciying Christians 
 must pass. The marks of violence are still upon their humble 
 meeting houses, and derision meets them at all their services. As 
 yet, they have no church etiquette (if you will excuse the term), no 
 thought, and very little knowledge, of the world's dignities; for they 
 are moHly poor and illiterate ; no idea that joy should be disciplined, 
 or transports suppressed. They, therefore, give the rein to their 
 feelings just as nature prompts them. They are happy, very happy, 
 
144 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 and tijey express their happiness in the natural v^aj, without fear of 
 startling their brethren, offending their pastors, or provoking sin- 
 ners. But it is not to be supposed that our church will be exempt 
 from the common lot of churches. With a penniless Ministry, fer- 
 vid, zealous, devout, persecuted, traversing the country from the 
 mountains to the seaboard, and preaching the Gospel to every crea- 
 ture, white, black, bond, free, rich, poor, at their own doors, it must 
 grow, and as it grows it will increase in dignity, science, fine preach- 
 ing, fine dressing, fine eating,>,fine stations, fine circuits, fine music, 
 fine churches, and strong roting. Of course, it will then become, 
 especially with the most respected office holders and office seekers, 
 very respectable. There will be religion in it, sterling religion in 
 it still — religion armed for giant work, and well employed ; but there 
 will be no shouting in it, no fraternal embraces in it, no out gushing 
 of hymns from a thousand voices, eloquent of the heart's heavenly 
 inspirations, no ' brothering ' between great preachers and poor 
 members. Or if these distinctive features of primitive Methodism 
 be not entirely effaced, you will have to seek them, to find them, in 
 some poor brother's circuit, in the gorges of the mountains, the 
 wilds of the West, or the negro quarteif of the rich." 
 
 " Verily, brother, you have said more in defence of shouting, than 
 I supposed could be said ; and most certainly, if I never shout my- 
 self, I shall always, hereafter, look with the greatest indulgence 
 upon those Christians who do." 
 
 " That is the lesson that I would inculcate, my lister. And when 
 you learn what may be said in defence of it, tell me, what think you 
 of that Pastor of a church who requested a good sister of his flock 
 to leave the church, because, under his own glowing description of 
 Heaven, or under something else he said, that filled her heart with 
 joy, she relieved it with a shout! Think of her, if you please, per- 
 chance the holiest of his charge, retiring from the house of worship 
 — from the sermon which refreshed her, under the eye-shot of the 
 oangregatiou, shamed, subdued, depressed, disgraced !" 
 
 " Oh, my dear brother ! Surely such a thing never happened V 
 
 " Surely such a thing did happen, if a credible witness is to be 
 believed. It may be that that woman paid more, for her means, to 
 build the church from which she was ordered — paid more, for her 
 means, to support the Pastor who so deeply wounded her, than any 
 other member of his congregation. She never shouted again, in 
 his church, you may be sure, nor did any other one of his flock ; and 
 the consequence was, (I conjecture, not without some reason), he 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIlTEN. 145 
 
 had ever afterwards a very quiet, orderly, Laodicean Church. Chari- 
 ty, iny sister ! let there be charity auioni; the churches. Instead of 
 looking for faults in each other, let them be looking for what is good 
 in each other, and let them reciprocally intcrdiange the good, and 
 reject the faulty. In this way, all might be improved— all would be 
 more endeared to each other than they are."' 
 
 " You have so well defended shouting among Christians, that per- 
 haps you can give me sonie new views upou another usage of your 
 church, which has always :?eemed to me much more objecttouable 
 than shouting. I allude to your altar scenes in times of revival. 
 Sonic are singing, some arc talking to mourners, and tivo or three 
 arc praying aloud at the same time, and when to all this is added the 
 shouts of the converts, the whole scene is one of utter confusion, it 
 seems to me. What can you say in defence of all this?" 
 
 " Nothing. It is not only indefensible, but it is positively un- 
 scriptural. Each and all of these exercises are proper in their 
 place ; but to have them all going on at one and the same time is 
 little better than to set all the rules of order, human and divine, at 
 defiance. The honesty of intention and benevolence of purpose 
 ■with which it is done, are all that make it tolerable, oven to the 
 most char'table ] but these arc very poor excuses for those who arc 
 presumed to have read Paul's Epistles, and yet encourage such things. 
 And here, a very pertinent illustration of what I have just said, pre- 
 sents itself: If at revivals iu your church, your people would borrow 
 a little more fervor from ours, and ours in like circumstances would 
 borrow a little more order and solemnity from yours, I think both 
 would be improved. Dignity, gravity, and order well become the 
 christian ; but love, joy and zeal, much better become him ; and if 
 they cannot all be harmonized, why, let the first give way, I say, and 
 let all give way to /ove, if it be possible to separate joy from it ! And 
 when love and joy abound in him, let him be indulged in liis nature's 
 way of manifesting them, even to the interruption of a sermon for a 
 time; and if the feeling become general among the flock, why, let 
 the sermon go; there is no better preaching, at times, than the re- 
 joicing together of many happy Christians. These arc my crude no- 
 tions, sister; take them for what they arc worth." 
 
 " I thank you for them, my very dear, dear brother, and I am 
 sure that they will be of service to me. Oh, how much happiness I 
 have lost from your delay in embracing (Christianity !" 
 
 "Not so much, perhaps, fnmi want, of my counsels and religious 
 opinions, as from want of that deference and respect which I should 
 
146 MASTER WlLLIAil MITrKX. 
 
 have sliCATU to your piety, and that tenderness of address that I should 
 have shown to a sister.'' 
 
 In the main, things went on smoothly and happily in the two 
 families, during the vacation ; hut betbre its close, both the (Jiiptain 
 and his sister had their quiet a little disturbed by William's _over 
 attention to Snap-dragon. It was a natural curiosity that prompted 
 him to enquire carefully into Snap-dragon's capabilities, accomplish, 
 menta, predilections, and tractability. By close observation and ex- 
 periment, he discovered that a little needless whipping improved him 
 wonderfally — (such the difference between a teacher and a disciple.) 
 It made him move airily, and infused life, grace and activity into 
 both his extremities; that he could trot eight miles aij hour — that he 
 could heat Billy Figg's Nicktail, Billy Pine's Catham, and Bob 
 Maston's Flying Nelly easily; that he stood the firing of a gun on 
 him very well ; that he could clear a six-rail fence at a leap ; that 
 bv tickling him in a particular way in the flank (which ho called 
 the " grabble-tickle ") he could make him kick amusingly, that by 
 applying the " grabble-tickle " to his back-bone, just behind the 
 saddle, ho could carry him through a variety, of most interesting 
 evohitions — tail-switching, warping, biting, (backwards, at nothing,) 
 Dolka-dancing, and furious kicking. One thing he taught him which 
 was uei'fectly original, and that was to -.stop at the cluck or cliirjs, 
 and- go at the word " ico !" To teach l^lm oil these accomplishments 
 Yv'illiara had to devote nearly his whole time to him. He had to* 
 jide him iar and near ; and in so doing it was just as well to call 
 And see all the planters within seven miles of the village, and rest 
 awhile with them, and entertain them with all the wonders of Doc- 
 •tor Waddel's school, as to ride that far and return without dismount- 
 ing. Every gathering in the county he was cert^dn to attend; by 
 means whereof he had a fine opportunity of .studying human nature, 
 in some of its most interesting aspects. He saw how petty elections 
 were conducted — how electioneering wrus carried on — how much 
 rum it took to elect a Captain and a Justice of the Peace. He 
 saw justice administered by magistrates in their shirt-sleeves, and 
 heard stiff quarrels between them and the suitors — he saw card 
 playing in its most unpretending humility and simplicity, to-wit, 
 by a couple of the sovereignii/, seated cross logged on the ground, 
 with a dirty cotton handkerchief between them for a table, and 
 a half deck of dirtier cards. (Here was tfie introduction of 
 '^ squatter sovereignty^' into the country; but who could have sup- 
 posed that it would ever make such a fuss in the world as it has 
 
MASrER WILLIAM MITTEN. 147 
 
 made !) He saw cock-fights occasionally, dog-figlity often, and ruen- 
 fights regularly — now and. then he was entertained with a quarter 
 race and a foot race — upon one occasion he took up a banter of ** the 
 universal world" for a foot race, by a youth both older and larger 
 than himself, and gained the victory handsomely. His competitor 
 said, " if he couldn't beat him a running, he could whip him." 
 Bill " pitched into him," as the saying is, without a parley, and 
 flogged him, beautifully, and to the delight and admiration of every- 
 body, who thought it mean in him to pick a quarrel with a boy who 
 had fairly beaten him, just from shame of his defeat. These feats 
 gave William great renown in the county. I'erhaps no youth in the 
 land ever made greater progress in ■* the study of human nature " 
 than William did in the sh6rt space of two months. But without 
 Snap-dragon, where would he have been ? Confined to the darkness 
 of his own village ! And yk'hoever heard of any human nature in a 
 village, save at Court times, general elections, and general parades? 
 The Captain often heard of his progress, and often couu-scllcd him. 
 " William," he would say, " I fear I committed a great error in giv- 
 ing you th;:t horic ; T am sure I did. It was one of the most im- 
 prudent acts of my life." 
 
 " Why, uncle ?" 
 
 '^ For ninny reasons. Ho takes up all your time. *I never see a 
 book in your hand ; you have hardly attended a religious meeting, 
 except on Sunday, since the vacation commenced. You are too 
 young to have control of a horse. He is a spirited horse; and if not 
 managed with care he may break your neck — " 
 
 " Uncle, he can't th- ow me to save his life." 
 
 " I'm glad to her.r that; my main design in giving him to you, 
 was to make yon a good horseman ; but he may run away with you, 
 carry you under the limb of a tree, and knock your brains out. If 
 you will be careful with him, there is no danger, for I know him to 
 be a very gentlfc horse, though spirited — but youths of your age are 
 so thoughtless. I hardly ever see you in the day time ; where do 
 you keep yourself}'" 
 
 "Just riding about in the country, Uncle." 
 
 " But sometimes you re gone the live long day, and surely you 
 arc nut riding all the time without your meals ?" 
 
 " Oh no, sir I soaietiuics I uko dinner at Mr. Love's, sometimes 
 at Mr. Tod's, souiciiiuos ut Squire 3Iatlo.xes, sometimes at Mr. 
 White's, and Curtis King's " 
 
148 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 "Why, William, my son, you ought not to visit people's houses 
 
 in that way " 
 
 '* TTncle, they always tell me they are glad to see me, and always 
 beg me to come and see them again.'' 
 
 " To be sure they do; but because they are kind, you should not 
 tax their hospitality all the time. At times, I am sure you must fall 
 upon them very unseasonably, and give them no little inconvenience. 
 When they see you in town here, and ask you to come and see them, 
 why, tlien go ; but don't thrust yourself upon them at all hours, un- 
 invited. 
 
 ■' I'll obey you uncle." 
 
 Again the Captain would renew his complaints and advice : 
 "■ William, your mother is very uneasy about you. She says you 
 constantly come home charged with news from all the gatherings in 
 the county. Surely, you don't frequent ^Uch places? What interest 
 can you take in them ? What do you promise yourself from such 
 resorts? I charge you under pain of my sore displeasure to abandon 
 them." 
 
 "I will do BO, uncle." 
 
 W^illiam's victories happened to be reported to the Captain by Mr. 
 Moore, in the presence of William, and in the way of congratulation 
 to him ! 
 
 "Why, William I" exclaimed the Captain, "is it possible that you 
 
 liave been running foot races and fighting '' 
 
 " Oh, don't blame him," said ]Mr. Moore; "I supposed you knew 
 all about it, since it is talked about everywhere. But dou't blame 
 William, for he never did a better thing in all his life, and never will 
 do a better while he lives. He was at the Court, at old man Haral- 
 son's, and there was an uneornmonly large gathering for the occasion. 
 There vas a fellow there, a forward, noisy chap, named Jake Black, 
 who was cutting up high shines, He said he could beat anything 
 of his weight and inches in the universal world at a foot race. ' I 
 can beat you,' said William. * You !' says Black, ' I can run round 
 you three times in fifty yards and then beat you.' ' Well,' says 
 William, • suppose you try it.' The match was made up, a hundred 
 yards were stepped off, and all on the Court ground went to see 
 the race. At the word they started, and William beat him a clear 
 light of at least seven yards. There was a general shout as they 
 came in, and many had something digging to say to Black. One 
 told him he oughtn't to run against anything but grub-worms and 
 terrapins. Another told him his belly didn't give his legs fair play. 
 
MASTER WILUAM MITTEN. 149 
 
 ' I saw your thighs,' says he 'hit yoar belly every step you made. 
 Tf you can only manaj^e to hook up your belly just three quarters of 
 an inch before you run, so as to give your legs full sweep, you'd beat 
 Bill Mitten thirty yards in the hundred, I know you would.' 'Oh,' 
 says a third, ' his stomach had nothing to do with it — at least it 
 wouldn't have had, if he had been in good keep ; but he was in no 
 order to run. I saw him eat two water imllioiis and a peck of peach- 
 es, not an hour before the race. Take that weight off of him, and 
 where would Bill Mitten have been ?' ' Well,' said the second, 
 ' that's just what I say. He only lacks three-quarters of an inch of 
 beating ' the universal world,' I thought his belly was nat'ral.' 
 
 " This kind of chat," continued Moore, "made Jake very m'ad, and 
 as William stood laughing with the rest, Jake stept up to him, and 
 said, ' If you can beat mc running, I can whip you mighty easy.' 
 You know that hard place in the road between old man Haralson's 
 house and the Court room ? Ho was standing there ; and the words 
 was no sooner out of his mouth than William seijied him, fetched 
 the hip lock upon him, and gave him the hardest fall that I ever 
 saw a boy get in all my life. Before Jake could recover from his 
 fall, William was on him, giving him bringcr. He very soon ' told 
 the news ' (cried * enough !') and William got off of him without a 
 scratch. *! don't suppose there ever was a people more rejoiced and 
 surprised than they all were at William's doings." Jake had no idea 
 that a boy dressed as fine as William was, could fight at all, nor did 
 anybody ciso believe it; but. Lord bless your soul, Captain, he walked 
 over Jake in the highest style of fighting ! I tell you what, sir, 
 he's as active as a cat and as bold as a lion. So you see he was not 
 to blame." 
 
 "And now came the tug of war," (intestine tear) with the Cap- 
 tain. Before Moore had proceeded four sentences in his narrative, 
 Captain Thompson's countenance lost every trace of amazement and 
 indignation, and assumed a rather unchristian placidity. The next 
 transition was to a benignant smile ; then to an expression of wonder 
 and delight J then to a laugh of triumph ; and so it went on, stronger 
 and stronger, to the end of the chapter ; so that when Moore con- 
 cluded, it was manifest that "brother" Thompson had no more 
 thought of religion in him, than he had of tho tattling of his counte- 
 nance; and no more thought of the tattling of his countenance, 
 than if he had been all the time in profound sleep. But the time 
 had come for him to speak, and what could he say ? Bill had fol- 
 lowed hid counsels to the letter, and had exhibited the very fruits 
 K 
 
150 . MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 
 
 from thera that he had anticipSlted and desired. Should he uow re- 
 buke him? . That would not do. Should he applaud his conduct? 
 That would not do from a Christian. Should he remain silent? 
 That would be a tacit sanction of all that William had done. But 
 say something he must, and that something must be extemporized; 
 so he began, in a very cool tone, that might be taken for the com- 
 posure of religion, or the composure of gratification : 
 
 "Why, William, I'm astonished at you!" 
 
 Very true, but very equivocal. 
 
 " I don't think, in an}/ view of the caxc, that his saying simply, 
 that he could whip you, justified you in attacking him " 
 
 " But, Uncle, I saw that he was mad, and bent upon picking a 
 quarrel with me, or hacking me before all the company, and I thought 
 that as I would have to fight or back out, I'd best take a running 
 start on him ; for the first blow in a fight is half the battle, they 
 
 say. 
 
 '' Well, that is true — that is — arguing upon )cor!(I/t/ principles ; 
 and supposing fighting in any case to be justifiable; for by that 
 course you arc certain to get some advan However, worldly prin- 
 ciples are not always to be trusted; indeed, never to be trusted when 
 they come in conflict with religious principles. The longer I live 
 in the world, the raore dissatisfied I become with its wl^s and no- 
 tions. Four or five months ago, I would have given advice that I 
 would not now give — at least without very considerable qualifications. 
 Vigor of body, strength of constitution, unflinching courage — moral 
 courage — are certainly great flings — great things in many points of 
 view — but then, like all good gifts, they may be abused. And here, 
 William, lot me give you a caution. You have a very good apology 
 (our frjfnd Moore thinks) for engaging 4n those contests with Black. 
 Now, take care that your victories over him do not lead you to seek 
 contests merely to show your prowess — merely for the praise of vic- 
 tory, and the terror of your companions. Oh ! of all the disgusting 
 things in this iR'orld, a mere bully — a mai! wIjo lurces his fellow be- 
 ing into a fight with him, merely for the vile fame of whipping him, 
 is the most disgusting. I have seen such men, and I have despised 
 them. They pretend to take as insults what they know was meant 
 in friendship, or in fun. They wantonly assail feelings, play insuf- 
 ferable pranks with men, and then assail them for speaking harshly 
 of what they say they meant as innocent sport. They take occasion 
 from a man's dress, his features, his person, his carriage, to worry 
 him into resistance of some kind, and then flog bim for resisting. 
 
]^[ASTKR WILLIAM MITTEN. 151 
 
 Can anythinjz; better mark Ji devil tliau such conduct as this ? Now, 
 William, I don't blame you for fighting (that is, vpon worhlli/ prin- 
 ciples) under the circumstances ; but I do blame you for going to 
 such places — not for- going to Mr. Haralson's, for he is a very worthy 
 man, and has a very worthy family, but ifor going there in Court 
 times. I have been there often and I don't remember ever to have 
 seen one of his sons in the crowd of Court days, in ray life. And 
 I blame you for running a race, at such a time and place." 
 
 Now if the reader can extract from this long harangue, what 
 were the Captain's views of the case of Mitten vs. Black, upon 
 Christian j^riiicijyleif, he is certainly much wiser than the writer. 
 Whether it was becoming in him to discuss the case so generally 
 upon ^^ xcorldl}/ i^rinciplen'' without drawing a line of distinction be- 
 tween them and Christian prinripJa^ — whether it was right in him 
 to say what he would have advised four or five mouths ago, that he 
 would not now without any specifications that might enlighten his 
 nephew, as to whether he muant to take back any of his counsels 
 upon universal excellence, are questions which we will not under- 
 take to settle. But we will venture to say, that Master Mitten in- 
 ferred from it, that the Captain was^ighly delightfed, (hut of course 
 only on worhili/ p)iHripl(s) with his: achievements, and that he need 
 never fear the Captain's wrath for fighting, provided he would always 
 fight at the right time, in the right place, and for good reasons in Mr. 
 Moore's judgment. 
 
 In the course of his obserTations, Master 3Iittcn discovered two 
 other things through the aid of Suap-drugon, which we must not 
 omit to mention ; the one was, that six or seven months abstinence 
 from strong drink, had not entirely abated his relish for it; and the 
 other was, that the squatter sovereigns committed many errors in 
 their games that he could have rectified with success. It was the 
 custom of not a few heads of families at this time, to make up a 
 mint-julep of peach or apple-brandy, every morning, and to give a 
 little to erery member of the family, old and young', blaeks excepted. 
 It was H much more invariable custom to make a large bowl of egg- 
 nog every Christmas, of which the whole family were expected to 
 take a little more freely, and it was considered rather a laughing 
 than a serious matter if some of the children got intoxicated. No 
 one ever entered a house to tarry for a half hour, without being asked 
 " to take something to drink," and with the plainer people of the 
 country, this invitation was extended to boys hardly in their teens, 
 and was accepted without exciting any surprise. Not many jears 
 
152 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEK. 
 
 before the times of which vre are speaking, probably down to the 
 very times, a still more remarkable custom prevailed among some, 
 if not all Msthodist Preachers; — which was to ask a blessing upoa 
 every glass of toddy they took. Should this statement be questioned, 
 we have authority for it, at hand, which no man in Georgia will 
 question. How this custom originated it is easy to divine ; the dis- 
 cipline of the Methodist Church enjoined upon its members to do 
 nothing upon which they could not invoke God's blessing, and as 
 they never dreamed that there was anything sinful in taking a glass of 
 toddy, or as it was more commonly called a little moectcned dram, 
 they "said grace over it." 
 
 While such customs were rife in the country, it is not to be woq- 
 dered at that Master Mitten had frequent opportunities of induljring 
 his early formed relish for ardent spirits, even without the help of 
 Snap-dragon — with his help they were quintupled. He however 
 took care never to appear at home, or in the presence of his Uncle, 
 " disguised loith liquor." But as the Captain saw that he was doing no 
 good, he feared that he was doing much harm, and he rejoiced great- 
 ly when the time arrived for his return to school. A little before 
 this time, the C^iptain informed William overnight that he wished 
 to borrow Snap-dragon for a short ride the next morning, as all his 
 own horses were in use. William gave a cordial assent, of course. 
 " Send Tom over with him directly after breakfast, I'm only going 
 to Doctor Wingfield's," said the Captain. 
 
 The Captaib lived on the« street that led directly to Doctor Wing- 
 field's and near the edge of the town. As William had never seea 
 his uncle on Snap-dragon, and felt a deep interest in bis performance 
 under the saddle of his kind benefactor, he took his position in the 
 inner lock of a fence on the street, under cover of some high weeds, 
 whence, with a little change of position, he could have a full view 
 of the Captain's house, and two or three hundred yards of the street 
 and road leading from it. Tom got t« the house with Snap-dragon, 
 about the time that William gob comfortably seated. Snap was soon 
 saddled, and the Captain was nearly as soon by his side, ready to 
 mount him. Snap showing signs of impatiance to get off. " What 
 makes that horse do so, Tom?" asked the Captain. " I don't like 
 his motions." 
 
 " He's gentle, Mas' David," said Tom. "He only do so till you 
 Btart him." 
 
 The Captain placed one hand on Snap's neek and the other on the 
 back of the saddle to mount ; this band happened to slip and fall a 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 158 
 
 little rudely on Snap's back. Snap, nothing doubting that this was 
 the beginning of tho ''grabble tickle," commenced with the prelimi- 
 naries of the polka,' 
 
 " Why, that horse is ruined," said the Captain. '' I wonder he 
 hasn't knocked William's brains out long ago." 
 
 " Mas' Dayid I tell you the' anT nothin' the matter with him. 
 This is nothin' but some little foolnish Mas William lam him. He's 
 gentle." 
 
 In the mean time ]5ill was rolling in the weeds, " enthused''* 
 with delight. 
 
 The Captain made a second attempt, and mounted. 
 
 " Tom, tell your Mistress — Wo I" said he to fidgetting Snap, and 
 away wer.t Snap " to the tune of eight miles an hour!" " Wo!" 
 repeated the Captain more emphatically, and Snap put off at half 
 speed, at which gait he passed Bill in an agony of laughter. The 
 Captain immediately conjectured that Bill had been runiJing Snap, 
 and that the horse took " ico" for " (j/o !" and he did not repeat the 
 word again. Snap soon became pacified, and the Captain brought 
 him to a halt. He studied awhile whether ii would be best for him 
 to go on or return. He concluded he would try Snap a little farther 
 any how ; so he clucked to him to proceed j but so far from proceed- 
 ing, Snap settled himself in more dignified composure than he had 
 exhibited during the whole morning. He clucked again, with no 
 better success. He chirped, but these changes of note operated upon 
 Snap like a*erauade. 
 
 " Why, did ever anybody see such a fool horse since the world 
 •was niadi I" mused the Captain. " What's a body to do with him i* 
 How is he to be made to go on, or stop ? If I ever give another 
 chap a fine horse, he may give me a thousand lashes, and I'll thank 
 him for it. It certainlj was the unluv/a'est act of my life to gire 
 Bill this horse !" 
 
 Upon the whole, the Captain concluded it would be best for him 
 to g-et out of temptations as quick as possible, by returning home. 
 Just as he made up his mind to this course, Mr. Foster met him : 
 
 " Good morning, brother Thompson !" said Foster. 
 
 ^' Good morning, brother Foster," f^aid Mr. Thompson. 
 
 *' Which way are you going?" 
 
 " I was going to Doctor Wingfield's, but I've got on my nephew's 
 horse, which the boy has so completely' spoiled, that there is no do- 
 ing anything with him, so I'll go back with you." 
 
 ♦This word, of very modern coinage, ia now getting into pretty general use, 
 .in some parts of the country. 
 
154 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 All of the proceedings up to this moment convinced Snap-dragon 
 that he had been brought out that morning for no other purpose in 
 the world, than to beat Mr, Foster's horse in a , quarter race. His 
 conjectures were fully confirmed, when in answer to Mr. Foster's 
 question "don't you own him?" the Captain, as he paced about, 
 answered emphatically " A^o ."^ 
 
 At the word. Snap dashed. The Captain soon took him up, and 
 waited till brother Foster came up. As he approached, the Captain 
 clucked to Snap, and he stopped crustily. 
 
 ^' Bless your soul, honey," said brother Foster, " that's a mighty 
 good looking horse, but he's a mighty foolish one." 
 
 " He was one of the finest horses in the land Wo I" cried the 
 
 Captain, (forgetting himself,) to Snap, in rage to beat Foster's horse, 
 and away he dashed again. He was stopped as before, 
 
 " Why, brother Thompson, that horse seems to go when he ought 
 to stop, and stop when he ought to go" 
 
 "Exactly so," said the Captain ; and Snap bristled considerably at. 
 the last word, but was chirped to a halt instantly. 
 
 " Why bless your soul, honey, I never did see a horse take on 
 after that sort in all my life. I wouldn't give this pipe for him, if I 
 had to ride him." 
 
 *** No," said the Captain, (Snap bristled,) " nor I neither," 
 
 In this way, between stops and starts, and sidles and snorts, the 
 Captain reached home greatly to his delight, and the still greater de- 
 light of William, 
 
 The lecture he gave his nephew at their next meeting, we leave 
 the reader to conjecture. 
 

 on AFTER XVIII. 
 
 When the time came for William Mitten to return to school, he 
 begped his uncle to allow him to keep his horse at Willingtou. He 
 thought " that it' he boarded two or three miles from the sohool 
 house, and rode to school and back to his boarding house every day, 
 his health would be greatly improved." He said, that " if he had a 
 horse to ride to the post office he could get and mail letters speedily 
 — that he often wished to go and hear itr. Waddcl preach at Rocky 
 River Church ; but that he had no means of getting there — that it 
 would cost nothing hardly to keep a horse at Willington. Tha4i 
 several times during the summer he had suffered from head-ache, 
 occasioned by hard study and want of exercise, and that unless he 
 could take more exercise in the .summer months than he had been 
 taking, he feared his health would be ruined. That in the winter 
 it was not so bad ; for the exercise of getting wood, and the active 
 plays of the school, at this season gave him plenty of exercise; but 
 in warm weather, he sometimes got so weak that it seemed to him he 
 would faint."' 
 
 Mrs. Mitten said " that she would cheerfully bear the expense of 
 the horse, if her brother would consent to William's keeping him at 
 Willington. That the idea of his constitution being shattered by 
 severe study was distressing to her. That she had suffered no little 
 in mind herself from the difficulty of hearing from William oft«n 
 through the mails, and that there was sometlfiug delightful in the 
 thought of her son going to sacred service with his preceptor. She 
 could conceive of nothing more likely to produce reciprocal endear- 
 ment between the two than this ; but that if brother David thought 
 differently she had nothing to say." 
 
 " William,'' said the Oaptain, " you perplex me not a little. The 
 horse is your^-, and 1 do not like to interfere with your right of pro- 
 perty in him;. and yetj to allow you to take him off to school with 
 you, and keep him there, knowing as I do how you bave u.sod hini, 
 seems to me litjle better than wilfully putting your life in jeopardy, 
 encouraging you to idleness, pushing you into difficulties with your 
 preceptor, and periling all my bright hopes of you at once. What 
 could have possessed mc to make you such a present as that ! Yes, 
 I know what possessed mc ; I wished to show you my gratification at 
 your prog: ess — to encourage you in your studies; to prove my af- 
 
156 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 fectiou for you ; to give you confidence in my counsels, and to give 
 you healthful, agreeable, aud<».uscful exercise, during your vacation. 
 . Why didn't I think to reserve the right of taking him back, if 
 
 you abused or misused the gift I " 
 
 " Uncle, you can take him back, if you wish to." 
 
 " No, I will not do that ; but I'll tell you what I will do : he cost 
 me one hundred dollars ; now I will give you for him, one hundred 
 and twenty dollars in any property you will name — but a horse. 
 That sum will get you a very pretty little library, that will be of use 
 to you through life. Or your mother will add to it, I know, a 
 hundred and eighty more, and that will get you a nice waiting boy — 
 or anything else that you prefer. But mind, I do not wish you to . 
 make the ti-ade merely to gratify nic, or merely to appease my anxie- 
 ties, or quiet my apprehensions. Act without fear or constraint in 
 the matter. You will not offend rnc if you reject my offer." * 
 
 ''Why, William," said Mrs. Mitten, "surely when you see your 
 Uncle's solicitude -" 
 
 "Stop, Anna! My solicitude has nothing to do with the mat- 
 ter " 
 
 » 
 
 "I was only going to call to William's mind how sound your judg- 
 ment had been in everything touching his interest " 
 
 " Well, all that at another time. William's judgment in this 
 matter is and ought to be his guide. In conside'ring my proposition, 
 forget that I am your I'ncle ; forget all the good that I have ever done 
 you, and decide upon it with perfect freedom of will. I'll put it 
 in the right view before you : Suppose that Mr. Cunningham was to 
 come and make you precisely the offer which I make you; what 
 would you say to it ?" 
 
 " I would refuse it from liim ; but •'' 
 
 " That's enough, my sou " 
 
 " But, brother, I don't think that because he would refuse the of- 
 fer from Mr. Ounninghara, it follows by any means that he would not 
 freely and voluatarily accept it from you." 
 
 " No, Uncle ; Mr. Cunningham has never done me the favors that 
 you have; he's no relation of mine; I do not respect his judgment 
 as I do yours ; and to prove what I say, I now tell you that though 
 I never was as much attached to anything in all my life as I am to 
 Snap-dragon, I freely and voluntarily, and of my own judgment 
 alone, accept your proposition ; and you §hall say whether the pay 
 for the horse shall be in books or a negro boy." 
 
 ♦ "No; my son ; I admire your kind feelings towards me; they are 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 157 
 
 a full return for all that I have clone for you ; but I can't base a 
 trade upon them. You are willing to accommodate ynr ; but you 
 are not willing to part with 7/oiir horxc — though you think you arc. 
 He is yeurs, ray dear boy, and I will not purchase him from you 
 upon any other considerations than those which would influence you 
 in a trado with a stranger " 
 
 " Why, brother, that seems to me a very strange refinement." 
 
 " I don't think so, sister. Suppose I had opened the proposition 
 in this way: ' William, I regret that I gave you that horse. Now, 
 I gave him to you unasked for; I am your Uncle, who loves you; 
 who has done a great deal for you; to whom you owe a large debt 
 of gratitude, but for whom you would never have gone to Mr. 
 Waddel's school, and by consequence must have lost all the honors 
 you lAve gained there ; in all which, as in many other instances, 
 you have seen how much better niy judgment is as to your true in- 
 terests than yours; now, in my judgment, the horse will do you 
 moro harm than good ; yield, therefore, to my judgment — return my 
 love and kindness, by giving me back the horse.' Would you think 
 all this right ?" 
 
 " No, certainly ; for that would be just working upon the child's 
 feelings, to get from him his horse for nothing ; but you propose 
 to give him more than the value of the horse, and in better pro- 
 perty." 
 
 "Then there is no difference between the case at hand, and the 
 case put, but in the return that is offered to him for the horse. It 
 is right to work on his feelings in any way I please to get his horse 
 from him, provided, I give him for him what i/on :md /think a fine 
 price ! Is that your doctrine? Don't you think that William ought 
 to have a will in the matter?" 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! The cases are not at all alike. You havn't gone on 
 with all that string of appeals to his heart; you would not lot mc 
 even speak of your better judgment ; you forewarned him not to let 
 his decision be governed in «ny way by hi.-* relation to you or your 
 kindness to him. lie's not a man to judge of prices, and of what 
 will be best for him." 
 
 " Nevertheless, he has all the rights of a man in trade. It would 
 be very silly in him to refuse five thousand for his horse ; but if he 
 chose to do so, I don't think you would force him to take it, and I 
 am sure I would not " 
 
 " Well, if he was such a simpleton as to refuse five thousand dol- 
 lars for his horse, I don't know but T would force him to take it. I 
 
158 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEX. 
 
 certainly would Advice him strenuously to take it. But what has all 
 this to do with the case ? Have you forced him '/" 
 
 " No, but he is acting upon precisely the feelings that my sup- 
 posed appeals to his sensibilities would have produced." 
 
 " And are they not praiseworthy feelings, brother?" 
 
 " Highly praiseworthy, sister ' Too praiseworthy to be abused j 
 and it would be an abuse of them in me, to avail myself of th(3ra.to 
 deprive him of a piece of property which he does not wish to part 
 with. And now, my dear boy, I withdraw my proposition ; and let 
 it not distress you the least in the world, that I have done so. Do 
 not suppose that I will blame you, or harbor any unkind feelings 
 towards you for your reluctance to part with him " 
 
 " But Uncle, I tell you again, I am willing to part with him to you 
 — perfectly willing " ' i • 
 
 '' Well, my son, I think the more of you for that; but let us drop 
 the matter. Keep your horse, son, but don't think of taking him to 
 Dr. Waddel's. I have not yet fully made up my mind whether I 
 have authority to forbid your so doing — ^I incline to the opinion that 
 standing as I do in the place of a parent to you, duty requires me 
 to interdict positively your keeping a horse at Willington ; but I 
 hope you will not force me to decide that question by attempting to 
 take him. I have many things to say against it, but let these suf- 
 fice : You've spoiled that horse — he is dangerous to others, if not 
 to you — you will have fifty students on his back, and some of them 
 may get hurt — perhaps killed by him. He will be a*useless expense 
 to your mother — the summer months are now gone — he will interfere 
 with your studies — dispatch of letters between here and Willington 
 is of no consequence, and the weather will be too cold for you to go 
 off" to preaching with Mr. Waddel." 
 
 "Now, brother," said 3Irs. Mitten, "don't understand me in what 
 I say, as interfering in the least with your authority over William, 
 or as opposing my judgment to yours, or as raising the slightest ob- 
 jection to your dealing with him in this, matter as you think best; 
 but simply as asking an explanation of you. William offers you his 
 horse on your own terms; you refuse him because he does not off"er 
 him from the right motives, or the right feelings, or something else 
 that I don't understand, and yet you doubt whether you will allow 
 him to use him as he wishes to. How do you reconcile these 
 views T' 
 
 " It will be time enough to reconcile them when I come to act 
 upon them ; but should I deem it my duty to forbid his keeping a 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTKN. 159 
 
 horse at Willington, I should reconcile thera just as you would in 
 giving a toy to your child, and forbidding him to use it to the an- 
 noyance of your household, or to the injury of himself." 
 
 " But William is not now a child, and I am sure that he would 
 obey your directions strictly in the use of him." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle; you may just lay down the law, and I will obey it 
 strictly in every thing." 
 
 " But I cannot anticipate all the ways in which you may mis-use 
 him." 
 
 '' Brother, will you take it amiss if I venture a woi-d of advice 
 here ?" 
 
 "No: by no means. I will always hear your views in reference 
 to your child with pleasure ; and what is more I will always take it, 
 if I am not coiifidenf that it will operate to the prejudice of your 
 80n." . . 
 
 " "Well I know that you take a pleasure in indulging him in every 
 thing you can, that you do not think will be injurious to him." 
 
 "True!" 
 
 " And I am equally sure that "William has reaped too many benefits 
 from obedience to you, ever to disobey you again in anything. Now, 
 this plan has occurred to me : September, though a fall month is 
 always a warm, relaxing, sickly month in this climate; and as he has 
 been much- on horse-back, during thfr vacation, it may injure his* 
 health to break otf suddenly from this exercise, and set himself down 
 to severe study. I know he has made rather a bad use of his horse 
 during the vacntien, but he can't do so at school. You have enume- 
 rated the evils you apprehend from his keeping a horse there, and 
 that will be sufficient to guard him against them ; for he has told me 
 over and over again, that he believed he had the best Ujicle in the 
 world ; that you had only to tell him what to do, and he would do it 
 if it were to go to the earth's end. Now give him an}' other orders 
 or cautions about the horse that you think proper ; let him keep him 
 only while the weather continues warm, and as soon as it turns cool, 
 I will send Tom for him and fetch him home, if you say so. The 
 short vacation at Christmas will soon be here, and if he keeps him 
 till then, he can ride him home, and save us the trouble of sending 
 for him. But no matter for that, if you say send for him before, it 
 shall be done. As for the expenses of keeping the horse, it will 
 cost no more to keep him there than here, nor as much ; and there, 
 he will be of some use, and here he will be of none. But the great 
 benefit I promise myself from it, is William's delightful improving 
 trips with Mr. Waddel to his preaching places." 
 
160 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " William," said the Captain, " retire a little, while your mother 
 and I discuss this matter a little farther." 
 
 William retired. 
 
 "Do you know, Anna," continued the Captain, "that nothing has 
 fallen from William in three months, which has pained me, not to 
 say offended me, so much, as that Hooky River plea for keeping a 
 horse? Here he has been in the midst of preaching, and various 
 religious exercises for three or four weeks, and except on the Sab- 
 bath, he has hardly ever darkened a Church door in the day time,, 
 and never at night, unless you pressed him into your service; and 
 now all of a sudden he has taken a wonderful yearning to accompa- 
 ny Mr. Waddel upon his preaching excursions." 
 
 " Brother, I think the day has gone by when William would de- 
 ceive ; and I am very happy in having it in my power to Qxplain 
 this thing to your satisfaction. I talked to William about his taking 
 so little interest in the meetings, and he said that he wanted recrea- 
 tion after his hard study, for the long term. That he would soon 
 have to renew his studies 'for ten long months, with only two weeks 
 vacation at Christmas, and that if he did not improve his health in 
 the vacation he would break down. That he had been to preaching iu 
 the country several times when there was preaching in town, because he 
 could take exercise in going there. Now at school the state of things 
 will be just reversed. He will be kept constantly employed except 
 on Saturdays and Sundays, and he would be desirous of exercising 
 on those days and doing j^ood at the same time." 
 
 The Captain looked doubtingly, and said no more upon that 
 head ; but he returned from the episode : 
 
 " Anna," said he, " I am very anxious to accommodate you and 
 William, but I have awful misgivings about this horse affair. There 
 is much weight in what you have said ; but it does not satisfy me. 
 What a world of trouble one false step may give a man ! What 
 eternal vigilance must a man keep up, both upon himself and his 
 charge, who has the government of boys ! Now, if I refuse to 
 comply with your wishes, jand by any chance in the world William 
 should happen to get sick, you will'ascribe it to my needless rigor, 
 and carelessness about his health. I erred in giving him the horse, 
 and I am not absolutely certain that after having given him, I ought 
 to control his use of him, simply upon my apprehensions that it will 
 be mischievous. Perhaps no evil will grow out of it for one short 
 month, or a month and a half at farthest, for surely we shall have 
 frost in that time, and by giving William proper precautions, it may 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 161 
 
 be that all will turn out well at last. You and William will be accom- 
 Diodated, my doubts will be removed, (if they can be called doubts) 
 about interfering with his right of property in the present state of 
 things, and pospibly his health may be improved, or at least preserved 
 by it. Call him back and let me give him my charge." 
 Willijim came. 
 
 "I have concluded, son. to letyou keep your horse at Mr. Waddel's, 
 upon these conditions : You are to ride him no where but to the 
 school house and back to your boarding house, except on Saturdays. 
 On those days, you arc to ride him to no grog shops, gatherings or 
 frolics, nor more than six miles from Willington, anywhere, except to 
 Vienna, and there, only to mail your own letters — don't forget this 
 condition. You tire nei^ir lo go to ]i<>iua imless i/ou c/o to hiail a 
 letter of your own, addfcsscd to your mother or myself. All your 
 letters to others, you must carry to the office when you go to mail 
 your letters to one of us. You are not to go simply to enquire for 
 letters — enquire for them when you go to mail your own. When 
 you go under these restrictions, you may of course carry letters and 
 bring letters for your school-mates — you are not to ride your horse at 
 all on the Sabbath, except* to accompany Mr. Waddel to some preach- 
 ing appointment. You are to loan him to no student — I'll give you 
 a paper to show them, that will excuse you to them for not loaning 
 your horse to them. When your mother sends for your horse, you 
 are to give him up without a murmur, and if you keep him till 
 Christmas, you are to bring him home and leave him here." 
 
 William subscribed to the terms cheerfully, and showed by his 
 countenance that he suffered no distress from his Uncle's over-refine- 
 ment in trade. On the second of September he and Tom took the 
 road to Willington — Tom with saddle-bags which bent upwards with 
 stuffing. On reaching Willington, William selected for his board- 
 ing house one of the r«motest from the school house that he could 
 find, with any students in it. It contained two pretty wild fellows. 
 A single day hero convinced him that he had made a great change 
 for the better, in boarding houses. The eating was better, the sleep- 
 ing was better, than at Newby's, and here he understood he would 
 not have to cut his own wood abd make his own fires. " Why 
 didn't I come here at first!"' thought he. "Smith," said he, 
 '•does Mr. Waddel ever come round here of nights ?" *' No," said 
 Smith, " it's too far off for him to comQboguimj about to, of nights ; 
 and if he was to come one time, he wouldn't come again, for I'd 
 make liim smrll the face of a brick-bat." 
 
162 MASTEPw WILLIAM MITTEX. 
 
 As there were no hrkk-hats about Willington, we infer from tliis 
 remark that Smith was a city gentleman. 
 
 '•'And you've no Monitor here?" enquired William. 
 
 "No ;" said Jones, '' Old Moses is got more sense than to make 
 Smith monitor over me, or me over him. He knows we'd never 
 spunk one another." 
 
 William was iu transports with his new location. His appearance 
 at school on horseback, created quite a sensation among the students j 
 divers of whom got spunked " for looking at William Mitten's horse 
 in study hours" — in short for being idle, but in detail as just stated. 
 As Doctor Waddel was about mounting old Hector, at 12 o'clock on 
 the second day after William's return, he saw William riding Snap- 
 dragon, to water, and he joined him. 
 
 "^Yilliam," said the Doctor. '*' have you quit boarding at Mr. 
 Newby's'?" 
 
 "Yes sir." 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear that. Did Mr. or Mrs. Ncwby say or do any- 
 thing to offend you '/" 
 
 " No sir, but Uncle allows me to board where I please, and I pre- 
 ferred boarding at Mr. 's." 
 
 " Is that your horse ?" 
 
 « Yes sir." 
 
 The Doctor cleared his throat sadly and prophetically, and pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 <' That horse, William, is going to bring you into trouble, and I 
 advise you to write to your mother immediately to send for him and 
 take him away ; and I advise you to get back to Mr. Newby's as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 "1 don't expect to keep him long Mr. Waddel — only till the 
 weather turns cool." 
 
 " That may be quite too long. 'Williarrt I have been keeping 
 school many years, and I dpclaro to you, my son, that no student 
 under uic has ever done anything to fill nic with such fears, anxieties 
 and griefs as you have, in these seemingly small matters of changing 
 your boarding house, and keeping a horse here. What day of the 
 month is this ? The fifth, isn't it ?"• 
 
 " Yes sir." 
 
 "Is your name upon either of these beech-trees, William ?" 
 
 « Yes sir." 
 
 " Come show me which." 
 
 <' Th^e "it is," said William as they approached a beech. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 163 
 
 " Very prettily carved. Dp you keep a pocket-book, William ?" 
 
 " Yes sir." 
 
 " Write down in your pocket-book the year and the day of the 
 month, in which you and I took our first and last look together at 
 your name on that beoch." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Waddel, I haven't done anything wrong, have I?" 
 
 ''Nothing morally wrong my son, nothing morally wrong. I 
 have a deep interest in you William, and so has your country. Hund- 
 reds will regret to be disappointed in you. I^ay to heart the advice 
 I am about to give, and follow it as you respect me, as you love your 
 Uncle, as you love yourself, as you love your mother, as you love 
 your country. Till j'ou send home that horse, be more studious than 
 you have ever been, more strict in observing the rules of the school, 
 more watchful of what you say and do, more careful of wh'erc you 
 go, than you have ever been. And as soon as you dispose of the 
 
 horse, come back to Mr. Ne why's — Mr. -. 's is too far for you 
 
 to walk." 
 
 '' I've paid my board for a quarter." 
 
 "No matter for that. Get back to Newby's as soon as you can, 
 and I'll arrange the matter of board with Mr. ." 
 
 " Mr. Waddel, X. Jones and Z. Smith board at Mr. 's." 
 
 '' 1 know they do, but — they keep no horse. Good day! lie- 
 member tke tifth of September and the beech tree !" 
 
 William did not move from the spot where Doctor Waddol left 
 him, for tivc minutes. lie was alarmed, he could not tell why. 
 '• What," thought he, " can there be in keeping a horse, that is so 
 horrible to Uncle and Mr. Waddel I It's the strangest thin^ in the 
 world !" 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It was a couiuion rouiark of Doctor Waddel, " show luo a scliool 
 boy with a horye, dog, and gun, and I'll show you a boy who will 
 never come to anything." We can look back through the vista "of 
 fifty yeais, and we cannot point to the man, living or dead, whose his- 
 tory disproves the remark. We can point to many in verification of 
 it. But Master Mitten had as yet only a horse, and at worst accord- 
 ing to Waddel, he was only one-third of the way to nothing. Why, 
 then, was the Doctor so much afflicted by his horse ? And why did 
 
 it distress him so much more to find William boarding at Mr. 's, 
 
 than Smith and Jones ? 
 
 He saw at once that William had changed his lodging only for the 
 pleasure of riding his horse every day. That his horse would ne- 
 cessarily employ much of his time, that might be much better dis- 
 posed of, and be constantly engaging him in pleasure rides, or vice- 
 rides, when he ought to be at his books. He felt almost certain 
 that ere long that horse would bring him on the monitor's bill, and 
 he disliked exceedingly to give a promising boy his first whipping; 
 because he knew that half the stimulus to close study and good order 
 would be taken from him by his first whipping. But the great source 
 of the Doctor's uneasiness was his room-mates. Jones and Smith 
 were among the few students of the Doctor's school, who disliked 
 him, and they cordially despised him. And yet, strange as it may 
 seem, he had never flogged either of them, he had never sd:id a cross 
 word to either of them. They feared whipping, and demeaned them- 
 selves well enough when at school, to keep off the monitor's bills, 
 and recited well enough to drag along with their classes. " Why, 
 then, did they despise him?" 
 
 The reader must ask the Devil to explain that matter. We ac- 
 knowledge our utter incompetency to do it. Yes, we can go a little 
 way into the explanation of it, and as it is one of the paradoxes of 
 human nature, the philosophic reader is entitled to all the light 
 that we can shed upon it. If it were possible we should say that 
 Smith came into the world hating Doctor Waddel ; for he seemed to 
 bring his hatred with him to the school. At their very first inter- 
 view, he showed palpable signs of it, already up to a red heat. Now 
 if it be possible for a rational being to hate furiously at sight, then 
 Smith's hatred commenced with this interview. But if this be mor- 
 
1^«TER WILLIAM ;xrilTEN'. 165 
 
 ally impo$isiblo, .it what period of Lis life can we better place it 
 than at his birth ? 
 
 As to Jones, his hatred, though curious, and smoked a little with 
 the unnatural, is iievortheless traceable. From his introduction to 
 ih<i Doctor, to the day of his becoming Smith's room-mate, he 
 seemed rather to like the Doctor; but on the evening of that day, 
 the most wonderful transition of feeling took jplace in him, that per- 
 haps ever occurred in the history of mind. As the two took their 
 seats, at their study-table, Jones observed, " Old Closes is a pretty 
 
 tight old follow, but 1 can't help liking him." *' He's a d nd 
 
 old tyrant !" said Smith. Whereupon Jones' countenance made 
 prodamatioh of the workings of his mind in this unmistakable lan- 
 guage : — " Why, — La me ! I never thought of that ! But it's so ! 
 I see it plaii^ enough vox ! What an escape I hav« made ! A little 
 more, and 1 might have been precipitated into the bottomless abyss 
 of love !" Jones covered his ignorance and weakness in the usual 
 way, by pretending he was in ^un, and to prove it, fell to cursing 
 the Doctor luxuriously. The most of their recreation hours of eve- 
 nings, were spent in brotherly contests for supremacy in hating and 
 abusing their excellent preceptor. Let no mau say that such cases 
 never occurred. They are to be IVmnd in every school of a hundred 
 boys in the land — not exactly, to be sure, in the features which we 
 have given to them, but exactly in substance. Ye protestors against 
 the doctrine of native depravity, explain this matter, if you please. 
 
 Doctor Waddel knew well the feelings of these youths towards- 
 him, and their worthlessnes.s of character ; and he wa,s pleased that 
 they had .selected a residence which cut them oif almost entirely 
 from communication with the other students, save when they were 
 under bis eye. No wonder that he had most gloomy forebodino-s 
 when he saw a youth of William's tender age, and bright promise 
 placed in daily and nightly intercour.so with them. 
 
 Young teachers may caution a good, amiable, hi;;hly gifted boy 
 against associating with a low, vulgar, abandoned Y»uth of his school 
 but an old one never doc8 j for the plain reason that ninety-nine in 
 the hundred good boys, instead Of thanking the teacher for his kind- 
 ness, holding his counsels in confidence, and improving them, will 
 go right oft" to the profligate and tell him all that his teacher haa 
 said about him, render him ton tim's wors-c than he was before in- 
 furiate hi.s parents, and spread the spirit of rcbeilioD through the 
 whole school. Well for the kind man if ho docs not get his head 
 cracked by the father, hip. character cracked by the mother anu his 
 
166 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEI^. 
 
 *' 
 chair cracked by his patrons or trustees. All this, kind reader, in 
 answer to your question, "Why did not Dr. Waddel tell the boy 
 frankly that Smith and Jones were unfit associates for him, and that 
 they would ruin him, if he did not leave them immediately?" Doc- 
 tor Waddel well knew " that there were things," not only " in heaven 
 and earth," but in schools, "which never were dreamed of" in 'the 
 world's " philosophy." We must not, however, take leave of Smith 
 and Jones without doing them the justice to say, that there were 
 two amiable, excellent, intelligent men, and as many women of like 
 character, whose opinion of them differed iota ccelo from ours : these 
 were their fathers and mothers. 
 
 On the evening of the fifth, William Mitten reported to Smith 
 and Jones all that had passed between the Doctor and himself; 
 wondering how the Doctor could he so much concerned about his 
 horae and his boarding at Newby'e. 
 
 '' I understand it," said Smith, with expletives, which we omit, 
 " he and Newby arc in cahoot. He knows you're good pay; and 
 another thing — he wants you there near kini, where he can be pok- 
 ing his grey eyes and club nose through the crack of your house, of 
 nights, without much trouble. If I stayed there and he was to 
 come peeping into my house, I'd take a rsharp stick and punch out 
 his old peepers. I was always taught to despise eaves-droppers, and 
 so I do." 
 
 " Oh yes," said William, " I see into it. He thinks if he can get 
 my horse away from me, rather thau walk so far to school, I'll go 
 back to Newby's ; but he misses it just a8 much as if he had burnt 
 his bhirt. I ain't going to quit the good eating here, and the good 
 sleeping and easy living and go back there, to eating and sleeping 
 and working like a nigger, if my horse was gone." 
 
 *• Bill," Said Jones, " did you ever play cards '(" < 
 
 " yes," said Bill, " many a time." ^ 
 
 " I wish we had a pack," said Smitli. " Wo burnt up ours, at the 
 cud of the term; but if you'll lend mo your horse Saturd'-ay, I'll go 
 to Petersburg and get a pack." 
 
 " Read that paper," said William. 
 
 Smith read it. 
 
 •' Well, how will your Uncle know that you lent him ?" pursued 
 Smith. 
 
 " But I promised my Uncle solemnly to obey his orders about the 
 horse, and I hate to violate my word.* It would distress my mother 
 to death, if I was to do so, and she find it out." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITl'EN. 167 
 
 " Well, are you going to use liira Saturday ?" said .Tones. "If jou 
 ain't, I'll toll jou how we can fix it elegantly j you just leave him in 
 the stable, and I'll take him, without your lending him." 
 
 " I thought I'd go, next Saturday and Sunday, with Mr. Waddel, 
 if he goes, to Rocky River Church j I must go one time " 
 
 Here William's words were drowned, by most obstreporous laughter 
 from his companions. 
 
 " But hear mo, hear me !" continued Bill. " Let me explain ! 
 You see, Uncle disliked my bringing my horse very much ; and 
 after giving him all the reasons I could think of to let me bring 
 him, I told him I would like sometimes to go with Mr. Waddel to 
 Rocky River Church ! When I said that, I saw something iu 
 Uncle's lookvS, which made me believe he thought I was telling a 
 lie " 
 
 " And who the devil is your Uncle I" said Jones. ''Do you be- 
 long to your Uncle T' 
 
 "Jones, you mustn't say anything against my Uncle— he's one of 
 the best men in the world, and " 
 
 " Oh, go ou Bill J I didn't mean to say anything a;fain»t your 
 Uncle." 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, I want to go with Doctor Waddel one 
 time, and if I can go before I write my lirsfc letter, and tell 'em of it 
 when I write, it will convince Uacle I told the truth, please Mother, 
 and make thorn very willing Tor me to keep my horse till Christmas. 
 But if I don't, my Uncle, who watches everything like a hawk, will 
 have a boy here after my horse as soon as the weather turns cool." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Jones, "that's not so bad; but take care of old 
 Mose, by the way, or he'll have you back to Newby's Monday morn- 
 ing, to a certainty." 
 
 " But," said Smith, "suppose old Wad. does not preach* at Rocky 
 River, what will you do with your horse Saturday and Sunday ?" 
 
 " I shall ;-ido him to Vienna, tu mail a letter—" 
 
 " That'll do ; when you get to Vienna, go over to I'eteisburg, and 
 buy a pack of cards." , 
 
 " liut my order.^ are not to ride my horse further than Vienna, 
 except to preaching." 
 
 " Well," said Smith, "you needn't ride over to Petersburg, you 
 cau go"there afoot." 
 
 " That's it," said Bill, snapping his fingers joyously. 
 
 The evening passed off with but little study. 
 
 William's claes usually recited to one of the Assistants, but the 
 
168 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 
 
 nest morning it was called before Doctor Waddel. The Doctor ar- 
 ranged tlie order of recitation, so as to throw the last part of the 
 lesson to William. He had not been over it, and he bungled 
 shamefully. ' 
 
 " Why, William," said the Doctor, " what's the matter with you? 
 I never knew you to recite so poor a lesson. I'm afraid you don't 
 study at your new boarding house as well as you did at your old 
 one." 
 
 William was exccssiyely mortified, aud his classmates no less sur- 
 prised. 
 
 After the class retired, William enquired of Doctor W^addel, 
 whether he preached at Rocicy River, the next Sabbath. 
 
 " No, my son," said the ])octor, " but I preach there the Sabbath 
 after. Why do you ask ? Do you think of accompanying me ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear that. Now you are going to make a good 
 use of your horse. If you never make a worse use of him, you will 
 do well." 
 
 Saturday came, and William, at an early hour after breakfast, was 
 off to Vienna to mail a letter. As the letter was written only to be 
 mailed, it of course was not written in his usual diffuse, florid style ; 
 but what it lost in beauty, grace and polish, it gained iu conciseness, 
 nerve and point. Here it is : 
 
 Will'n, Sep. 7. 
 
 *' Dear Mother ; — I just write for fear you will feel uneasy if you 
 get no letter from me by this mail. Tom can tell you all about me. 
 Delighted with my boarding house — Fare much better than New's. 
 Health good — Told Mr. Wad'l I wished to go to preach'g with him, 
 if he went to-day, but he don't go till next Sat'y — Best love to all. 
 In haste your af'te son, Wm. M." 
 
 After mailing his letter, he went over to Petersburg, aud bought a 
 pack of cards, a tickler of peach brandy, and a plug of tobacco. ^' My 
 son," said the merchant as he handed him the articles " these are 
 ugly things for such a youth as you are to buy." 
 
 <' Oh, I don't buy any of them for myself, I buy them for Mr. 
 Smith and Mr. Jones, who live about nine miles from here." 
 
 The merchant knew William at sight as the youth who had dis- 
 tinguished himself so much at the exhijition, and he naturally felt 
 pained to sec a boy of his talents engaged in such a dangerous traf- 
 fic. Hence his remark, which produced from Wihiam one lie and 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 169 
 
 two truths, in consolidated form. He bought the cards for biraself, 
 the brandy for Smith, and the tobacco for Jones. 
 
 He returned immediately to his residence, and spent the afternoon 
 and till twelve at night, playing cards and drinking peach brandy. 
 The next day be was sick. On Monday he went to school, was 
 called again to recite to Doctor Waddel, and knew nothing of bis 
 lesson. It was rarely the case that the Doctor called one of the lower 
 classes to recite to him two mornings in succession. 
 
 '^ What," said be to William, '' with all Saturday, and all Monday 
 morning to get your lesson in, come np here and know nothing about 
 it, sir ! You don't stud}?, sir !" 
 
 The Doctor enquired of Mr. Dobbins 'bow Riiitb and Jones recited 
 that morning. "They didn't recite at all," responded Dobbins, 
 "Smith said bo had been sick from Friday evening till Monday 
 morning, and Jones c.imc up with his jaw tied up in a handkerchief, 
 and to;)k on as if be w;is raving distracted with the tooth-ache. He 
 disturbed the class «o that I excused him from attending recita- 
 tion." 
 
 Tuesday they all appeared at school, as well prepared for recitation 
 as usual, but the Doctor beard none of them. 
 
 On W^ednesday they were not noticed until after prayer in the 
 evening. This service over, he hauled a tickler out of his pocket, 
 and said : 
 
 "William Mitten come forward I" William just had strength to 
 step forward, and that was all. 
 
 " Do you know this tickler, sir ?" 
 
 " Ye-e-s, sir !" 
 
 "Whoscisit?" 
 
 " It's Smith's, sir." 
 
 "You took it to Petersburg last Saturday, didn't you, sir; and 
 got it filled with peach brandy?" 
 
 ** Yes, sir." 
 
 " Who did you get it for V 
 
 '•Smith, sir." 
 
 " Whose pack of cards is this?" asked the Doctor, drawing a pack 
 from his pocket." 
 
 Bill did not require an inspection of it, to give the answer : 
 
 " It'.s mine, sir." 
 
 '< You and Jones and Smith sat up late on Saturday night, play- 
 ing cards and drinking peach brandy, didn't you V' 
 
 " W'e— 1— Jo— I did. sir." 
 
170 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEK. 
 
 " You did, sir. Did jou play cards by yourself till late at night ? 
 — and drink all Smith's brandy yourself?" 
 "IVosir; they drank some." 
 
 ''And did they sit by and help you drink, while you played cards 
 by yourself?" 
 
 "No, sir; they played toe some." 
 
 " Perhaps you may think that I got my information of your deal- 
 ings at Petersburg, from the merchant who sold you the cards, brandy, 
 and a plug of tobacco. ] have not seen him, and no man in Peters- 
 burg or Vienna told me a syllable about it. Alexander B. Linton, 
 bring me sis tough hickories in the morning, suited to the occasion. 
 In the language of Eo^ Piopcr's composition, 'the apple of discord 
 has been cast in among us, and if not speedily snipt in the bud, it 
 will inevitably explode and shroud us in the pitchy night of anarchy 
 and confusion, and deluge the country with fire and sword.' As 
 that apple is as dangerous to schools as it is to the country, I'll try 
 to nip it in the bud effectually, in the morning. You are dismissed." 
 As for Jones and Smith, nobody cared for them, but the whole 
 school sympathized with William. They laid all his faults to them, 
 (rather more than was due to them by the way,) and rejoiced at the 
 retribution that was in reserve for them, Gilbert Hay accompanied 
 him for about a quarter of a mile on his way to his lodgings. To 
 this point they walked hand in hand. William leading his horse, 
 and both weeping bitterly. 
 
 Here they stopped, and William broke silence : 
 " Gilbert," said he, " nothing gave me so much pain in leaving 
 Mr. Newby's as parting with you. How happy we were in talking 
 together, working together, playing together, and studying together ! 
 
 I'd give ten thoifeand millions of dollars if I hadn't left you " 
 
 "Will, come back now." 
 
 " It's too late now — I'm disgraced, I'm ruined — I wish that my 
 horse and Jones and Smith were all tumbled together in the flames 
 
 of Hell I Stop Gilbert ; don't leave me !" 
 
 ''I will leave you, William, if you talk in that way; and, much as 
 I love you, I must drop your acquaintance, if you use such lan- 
 guage." 
 
 " Forgive me, Gilbert, I hardly know what I say. You have no 
 idea what I suffer" — 
 
 "Why, it's no killing matter, to get whipped by Mr. Wad " 
 
 *' Whipped ! I don't mind the whipping at all, severe as I know 
 it will be. If cutting my legs to the bone would just put me back 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 171 
 
 to that happy night I spent at your house, I'd take it willingly." 
 
 " Then what is it that distresses you bo ? — You are not the first boy 
 that Mr. Waddcl has ever caught playing cards and drinking liquor, 
 I know." 
 
 " If I should tell you, you never would own me as a friend or ac- 
 quaintance again." ' 
 
 '" Well, it can't be worse than I'll %hink it is, if you don't tell 
 me." 
 
 " In less than one short fortnight, I hare deceived tho best of 
 mothers, the best of uncles ; forsaken you, the best of friends ; de- 
 spised the advise of the best of teachers; drank, gambled and lied — 
 disgraced myself in my class, as you know, and disgraced myself in 
 the eyes of all who applauded me at the examination and exhibition. 
 
 They will hear of if Why,'hore'>^ Tom ! AVhat's the matter at 
 
 home, Tom ?" 
 
 "■ Mas' David is very sick. He thinks he's going to die, and he 
 wants to see you before he dies. Here's a letter from Missis." 
 
 " Lord have mercy upon my pobr soul !" half shrieked William. 
 
 '' Can't I die 1 Can't I die ! Read it Gilbert !"' 
 
 By the dim twilight be read : 
 
 " All/ Dearest Boy : Two days after you left us, your Uncle was 
 attacked with bilious fever. The attack is very severe, but we hope 
 not fatal. Last evening he begged that you might be sent for. Come 
 as quick as you can, in mercy to your horse. The Doctor says there 
 is no probability of his dying in four or five days; so do not peril the 
 life of your horse, in your haste to get here. 
 
 Your affectionate mother, Anna Mitten." 
 
 "Oh Ciilbert I Gilbert ! ]Iow shall I face a dying uncle and an af- 
 flicted mother ? Show the letter to Mr. Waddcl. Tell him I thank 
 him for all his kindness to mo — that I never shall forget the beech 
 
 '• The beocli I What docs that nie.an, William ?" 
 "He knowi? — he will toll you. Vnrewcll. my dearest, best class- 
 mate !" 
 
 Gilbert went immediately with the letter to Doctor Waddel, and 
 delivered it with William's message file Doctor listened, read, and 
 walked the floor in great agitation of mind. After a few strides back- 
 wards and forwards, he spoke : " It is awful, awful to think of such a 
 staraS that being eclipsed just at its rising I A breath may change the 
 destiny of a youth for time and elcmily. If ever there was a boy 
 
172 MASTEK WILLIAM. MIITEN. 
 
 of more brilliant promise thau William Mitten, three months ago, I 
 don't think I ever saw him. And where is he now ! Why is it that 
 in the contact of virtue and vice, vice always gets the advantage — at 
 least with the young ?" 
 
 " Mr. Waddel, Avkat did William mean by the beech .?" 
 
 " I'll take you to it and explain, to-morrow at twelve ; but I little 
 dreamed that the catastrop)|e was so near at hand ! At a propter 
 time, I will write to his uncle, — or mother, to send him back. His 
 heart's in the right place still, and he may yet be the pride of his 
 mother, the boast of his teacher, and the glory of his country." 
 
 '^If you write, Mr. Waddel, tell him I love him yet; and that 
 the front side of my bed is waiting for him yet." 
 
 William wended his way to his boarding house, slowly and sadly. 
 On reaching it, he v.'eut in and informed the landlord of the distress- 
 ing tidings from home, and that he would loavc at the dawn in the 
 morning. He refused supper, and walked towards the- study, near 
 the steps of which Smith and Jones were standing. 
 
 " Well," said Smith, ''you've stayed so long we thought you'd 
 run away. You've got us into a hell of a scrape, and you may well 
 look sheepish.'' 
 
 " Smith, that boy has just come for me — my Uncle's at the point 
 of death " 
 
 "You're d nd lucky, to have a tick Uncle just at this time." 
 
 The words were hardly out of his moulh, before the onset of Wil- 
 liam's fight with Black was renewed precisely; but not with pre- 
 cisely the sauie results. In his fall, Smith's head struck the corner 
 of a step, and he came senseless to thc'ground. Jones,- supposing 
 that he was only a little stunned by the fall, and that he vould soon 
 rally and give William a tremendous beating, (just what he desired) 
 did not interpose. William supposed so too, Qi. c, that he would 
 soon rise,) and he resolved to improve the interim to the best advan- 
 tage. Such language, at such a time, from such a character, sot his 
 whole soul on fire, and inspired him with supernatural strength and 
 inhumanity. He dealt blow after blov*- upon the face, neck and ribs 
 of the unresisting Smith, with a force and rapidity that horrified 
 Jones, and would have astonished any one. It was in vain that 
 Jones cried out " for God's ^ke, Mitten, stop, he's dead I" " If he 
 isn't dead, I'll kill him," said Mitten. Rising from the body, he 
 stamped Smith in the face with his heavy nail-pegged shoes, and was 
 in the act of repeating the injury, when the landlord and Ton^both 
 seized him and forced him into the house. As they dragged hioi 
 
MASTEli WILLIAM MITTEX, 178 
 
 away, " Stop" said he, " let me give Jones a littlo, and then I'll be 
 satisfied.' He was given in charge of Tom, while the landlord and 
 Jones took care of Smith. His head was cut to the bone, and the 
 wound was clogged up with blood and dirt. His face was like noth- 
 ing human. He was washed, undressed, and put to bed ; but he did 
 not recover his senses, though he breathed, and his pulse bent. There 
 was no physician within miles of the place, and the landlord did 
 not suppose it necessary to send for,^ne so far off, as he deemed it 
 certain that Smith would die or be out of danger before he could 
 get there. In a half hour's time William became cool, and surren- 
 dered himself to grief again. A bed was prepared for him in the 
 house, his trunk was brought in, he washed, changed his blood}' 
 olothos for clean ones, packed such as he needed in the saddle-bags, 
 ►sent Tom to attend to the horses, and threw himself on the bed to 
 wait, in tears, the coming (5awn. 
 
 lu the meantime, Jone.s and the landlord were at the bedside of 
 Smith, in a state of the mo.5t intense anxiety. The former was in 
 tho deepest agony. He and Smith had agreed to run away from 
 school the next morning. It was further arranged that Smith 
 should give Mitten a sound dressing over-night, because he had not 
 managed his purchases in Petersburg with sufficient cunning ; be- 
 cause he had not extemporized lies according to his talents, under 
 Waddel's examination ; because he had told the truth whero he 
 ought to have told lies, and bungled even at tJio truth, and because 
 "he wanted whipping anyhow." There was a short debate between 
 them as to which should have the pleasure of chastising William. 
 Smith said that he was so much over Hill's size and age, that it 
 would look a little mean in him to do it. 
 
 ''Now you, Jones," continued Smith, 'are just about his weight* 
 and you are but a little older than he is; if you would fan him out, 
 there would be some honor in it," 
 
 " Oh, [ can whip him easy enough," said . I ones, " and will do it 
 if you insist upon it. but he will be rertain to bung up ray face a 
 little at the beginning of the fight, for you know he can throw me 
 just as fast as I cao get up, and I hate to go home with my face 
 Bcratched and bunged up. It will be hard enough for me to mak^ 
 peace with old John (his father) anyhow. IJut you can tic hira — 
 you can flog him without a scratch, and don't hurt hira much. It 
 would be mean in a boy of your size to hurt him much j just whip a 
 little common .sense in him." 
 
 The matter was arranged accordingly; but instead oi' Smith's 
 
174 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 whipping a little common, sense into Bill, behold Bill had knocked a 
 great deal of ve.ry common seiise out of Smith. 
 
 To run away and leave Smith in his present condition was not to 
 be thought of. To remain with him until after prayers the next 
 morning, would be certain to awaken Doctor Waddel's curiosity con- 
 cerning the state of his health, as early as old Hector could bring 
 him hither; and as his old prejudices had greatly strengthened thai 
 day, he had no disposition to en^!ounter him anywhere. From what 
 had passed between him and Smith, there was a fair implication that 
 if Smith did not whip William, ho would ; and though Smith migbt 
 not hold bim responsible for the implied pledge, he woixld be very 
 apt to hold him responsible for allowing William to beat him while 
 he was in a state of insensibility. William's retiring remark, too* 
 made him feel very uncomfortable ; for though he had done notliing 
 to incur his wrath but sympathise with Smith in everything, and 
 drop cue disrespectful remark about William's uncle, aljcady atoned 
 for, it was plain that William's niiifd wa.s not in a condition to allow 
 the proper credits, in closing up his uncle's claims. He was very 
 certain that William woukl sleep none that night, and if he should 
 conclude to come out a little before day and give him a parting bles- 
 sing wlien all v^^cre asleep but the two, it would be — very ill-timed, 
 to say the least of it. So that, upon the whole, none of the house- 
 hold spent a more uncomfortable night of it than poor Jones did. 
 To have got rid of the troubles of that single uight, he would 
 have been perfectly willing to sign a written pledge to love " old 
 Moses " all his life, elegantlt/, and to accompany him to Rocky River 
 Church monthly, during the term of his pupilage. 
 
 Smith did not come fully to himself until about twelve o'clock. 
 When he recovered his mind, and saw with but one eye (for he 
 could not open the other, and one not fully,) Jones and the landlord 
 keeping watch over him. his shirt all bloody, and found himself in 
 pain all over, " Why, what's the matter with mo ?" muttered he from 
 two hideously swollen lips. 
 
 " Never mind," said Jones, '' lie .still and be quiet till morning, 
 and we'll tell you all about it." 
 ^ While Jones was talking, Smith was feeling his face and head. 
 
 " Why, how did I get in this fix ?" enquired he, " I'm in a dread- 
 ful fix — my back, hip, head and i^ice all pain me awfully. Jones, 
 tell me who treated me so. Have I been out of my head ? What 
 o'clock is it ?" 
 
 " Never mind, Smith — never mind," said Jones, " you'll soon be 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 176 
 
 over it if you'll be quiet. Lie still till morning, and we'll explain 
 all things to your satisfaction." 
 
 " Didn't Mitten clinch me ? Did he strike mo with a stick ? He 
 couldn't " 
 
 " Oh, go to sleep, go to sleep, Smith, and quit talking. A bad 
 accident has happened to you. and you must be quiet, or tiiere's no 
 telling what'U come of it." 
 
 " I don't recollect anything after he clinched me; but it's impossi- 
 ble he could 'have hurt me so bad. Is he gone V 
 
 " Yes,'' said Jones, " he's gone long ago — he didn't do it — it was 
 an accident, I tell you. and you must be quiet, and not talk, or you 
 may lose your life."' 
 
 In this way Smith was quieted, dropped to sleep, and did not wake 
 until an hour by sun the next morning, when William was ten miles 
 on his way homeward. 
 
 By ten o'clock Doctor Waddel was at 3Ir. *s. The whole 
 
 matter was explained to him. He told Jones to stay with Smith, 
 and nurse hiinuntil he wus able to walk to school. Jones did so; 
 but instead of walking to school, they walked home — or rather 
 walked to where they could get horses to ride home. It was the 
 Doctor's habit to follow runaways and bring them back, but he was 
 too glad to get rid of these gentlemen to do so in this instance. 
 
 "William's purchase in Peter.-ibuvg soon became the town talk, for 
 almost everybody in town knew him as the bright boy of the exhi- 
 bition, and everybody deplored the indications of ruin that his pur- 
 chases gave. The talk soon spread from Petersburg to Willington, 
 and from Willington to Doctor Waddel's ears. He went immediate- 
 ly to Mitten's room, whore he found the cards and tickler uncon- 
 cealed, and surpri;^ed Mitten with them, as we have seen. Thus did 
 he possess himself •f the few facts, from which he drew out of Wil- 
 liam all that the trio had done after the cards and brandy reached 
 their room. He explained to young Hay, according to his promise, 
 William's reference to the beech, the import of which William fully 
 understood after his disgrace. What a lamentable thing it is, that 
 there is no way of inducing the 3'oung to follow the counsels of the 
 
 old : 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Captain Thompson breathed his last but a few minutes before Wil- 
 liam reached his habitation. We need hardly say that he died hap- 
 pily — he died triumphantly — not shouting, simply because in his last 
 momenta, he had not strength to shout, but whispering ''Glory, 
 Glory, Glory !" 
 
 William's entry into the death-chamber, served but to embitter 
 the griefs of all who filled it. A little while before Captain Thomp- 
 son expired, he said, " I have been looking anxiously for William — 
 I wished to give him my last counsels, as I have given them to the 
 older children, [his own and his sister's] but it is now too late. Tell 
 him, Anna, my last words to him were, ' Love, honor, cherish and 
 obey your mother.' " These sentences were uttered amidst rests at 
 every three or four words. 
 
 Deep and all-prevailing a.s was the grief around the death-bed of 
 the uncle, the entry of the nephew startled every one, and nearly 
 overpowered his mother. Anguish of mind, loss of sleep, absti- 
 nence from food, and fatigue from travel, had wrought the greatest 
 change in his appearance, that perhaps ever had been wrought in a 
 youth of his ago, unvisited by disease. lie walked, or rather tot- 
 tered to the corpse, kissed its cold lips, covered his face with his 
 hands, shrieked, and sunk to the floor. The I)octor who had not 
 yet lett the room, raised him up, advised that he be removed from 
 the scene of grief to a bed in another apartment, and he assisted in 
 effecting what he advised. He returned and reported to Mrs. Mit- 
 ten that William needed medieal aid, for that "he was quite unwell." 
 She hastened to his bed side \yith the physician, and found him in a 
 high fever. He was prescribed for, and carried home as soon as 
 possible. Her forebodings of some great calamity had been realized 
 in the death of her brother; but she now believed that her son 
 would soon follow him ; and her agony of soul can be better con- 
 ceived than described. Still she bore her afflictions like a christian ; 
 with no other demonstrations of grief than streaming eyes, deep- 
 drawn sigh.«, and saddened countenance. 
 
 A few weeks before Captain Thompson's death, he and fire or six 
 other gentlemen of the village had, upon Mr. Markham's suggestion, 
 agreed to furnish the means for giving John Brown a collegiate edu- 
 cation. Mr. Markham, after having taught John gratuitously from 
 the day that he acquitted himself so creditably at the exhibition, set 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 177 
 
 on foot this benevoleut enterprise, and was himself the largest con- 
 tributor to it. How this excellent inan came to enlist so warmly 
 and efficiently in John's favor, is worthy of record. A short vaca- 
 tion followed the exhibition, and at the opening of the terra John 
 was missing from school. At twelve o'clock, Mr. Markham went to 
 his mother's to learn the cause of his absence. He found John seat- 
 ed on the door-step, weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Well, John," said be, "what's the matter, son T' 
 
 " Mammy says she can't send me to school any more." 
 
 -'■ Why, tliat's bad ; but 1 reckon you wouldn't study much, if she 
 was to send you again." 
 
 " Yes, sir. I would ; I'd study harder than ever I did in all my 
 life. You should never have to whip me again, as long as you live." 
 
 " Why, that would be a wonderful improvement, John, for I've 
 generally had to whip you at least twice a week, ever since you first 
 came to me." 
 
 " I know that, sir, because I didn't care about going to school at 
 first; but now I want to go to school ; and if I could go back, you'd 
 never have to whip me again, I know you wouldn't." 
 
 By this tiniL^, Mrs. Brown was at the door. 
 
 " Walk in, Mr. Markham !" said she, " I never did see a boy take 
 on, so .about going to school, as Joha has all the morning, in all my 
 born daj's. 'Twas much as I could do to get him off to school be- 
 fore ; but now he takes on at sitch a r.ite to go to school, that I can't 
 help feeling na'trally right sorry for him." 
 
 " Well, why won't you let him go, Mrs. Brown ?" 
 
 "Well, Mr. Markham, ra'lly the truth is, I an't able to pay his 
 .schoolin'. You know mighty well what my husband is, and therefore 
 'taint worth while to be mealy-mouthed about it; he jist na'trally 
 drinks up, e'en about every little that I Ciin rake together, th.at he 
 can lay his hands on. He's a good hearted, clever, hard-working 
 
 man, when he's sober; but he's all the time drunk 'tan't worth 
 
 while for me to be tryiu' to hide it from you, Mr. Markham ; every 
 body knows it. 'Cept the time Judge Yearly put him in jail for 
 gwine into court drunk as a jurior, he's hardly drawn one sober breath 
 since, and you know, Mr. Markham, it's mighty hard for one poor 
 lone woman like me to got along with three little children, and a 
 drunken husband besides. Seems to me sometimes that I should 
 
 na'trally jist give up. And I b'lieve I Oh yes, I know I would — 
 
 ha' give up long ago, if it hadn't been for your wife, and five or six 
 other good ladies in town, who've holp rae mightily. But after all I 
 
178 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 could do, I couldn't do more than jist rake up money enough to pay 
 for what little schooliu' I could give him, since he's been to you. I 
 think Johnny would take larning mighty well if he had a chance. 
 You know he did mighty well at your — at your — show. People took 
 on mightily at Johuuy's doins' that day, and I wish he could have a 
 chance to git more larning, but I an't able to give it to him — it's a 
 fact — I an't able to do it, Mr. Markham, and I may as well jist tell 
 the plain, naked truth about it." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Brown, your's is really a right hard case. How long 
 could you spare John to go to school, if it cost you nothing to send 
 him?" 
 
 " Oh, la messy 5 that would be the onliest thing in the world for 
 Johnny. I'd be mighty williu" for him to stay till he gets clean 
 through for my part, and be glad of it. It would be a mighty great 
 thing if Johnny could git larnin' enough to keep a school himself, 
 now wouldn't it, Mr. Markham 't lou must make a heap 0' money 
 at it, havin' so many scholars as you always have, and gittiu' your 
 money every quarter V 
 
 " But if I take John to teach him, won't your husband take him 
 away from me before he gets through ?" 
 
 "Oh, la, no! He has nothin' to do with the children, nohow, 
 poor drunken creater I Besides, he shouldn't do it." 
 
 "But how would you prevent him !" 
 
 " I could prevent him easy enough. Do you think I'd let him, 
 who don't do a hand's stirrin' towards feediu' and clothiu' my child- 
 ren, take one of tlicm away from gettin' larnin' for nothin' ? No, 
 sir, he'd no more dare to do it than he'd put his hand in the fire." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Brown, if you'll promise me that you won't take John 
 away till he gets through, and that your husband shall not, I'll take 
 John, and if he will behave himself, I'll make him a great scholar — 
 able to keep any sort of a school. I'll furnish all his books for him, 
 and teach him, and it shan't cost you a cent." 
 
 " Yes, that I do promise for both Hehave himself ! If he don't, 
 
 I reckon you know how to make him ; and if i/ou can't,- jest send 
 him home to me, and I'll give him such a cawhallopin', that I'll be 
 bound he'll never misbehave again while his head's hot, to a man 
 that's done so "much for him." 
 
 " Well, send him over to school in the morning, and we'll see what 
 we can do for him." 
 
 While this conversation was in progress, John's eyes expanded 
 from a couple of cracks to a couple of pretty respectable key holes, 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 179 
 
 and, at the conclusion of it, he commenced patting his foot and 
 snapping his fingers in unspeakable delight. As Mr. Markham was 
 retiring, " Stop a little, 3Ir. Markham," said ^Irs. Brown. He 
 stopped. 
 
 ^' Where's your manners, sir," continued she to John. " Make a 
 bow to Mr. Markham, and thank him for what he's gwine to do for 
 you !" 
 
 John gaTC Mr. Markham a bow of his own teaching, excellent for 
 the stage, but quite too formal for the signal of private thanksgiv- 
 ing, under ^Mrs. Brown's dictation. lie delivered himse'f, however, 
 in Ilia own language : 
 
 " Mr. Markham, I'm very much obleegcd " 
 
 '' (96%a/, John." 
 
 Mrs. B. " What, ha\ f you been gwinc to school all this time 
 and don't know how to call words yet !" 
 
 Mr. M. '• ffohn's is a very commofl mistake." 
 
 John, conceiving that his bow and his thanks had got too far apart, 
 repeated his bow as before, and commenced again : 
 
 '' Mr. I^Iarkham, I'm very much oUl'jed to you for yonr goodness. 
 I always said you was " 
 
 '' Were., John." 
 
 '' I always said you irrr^. the best man I ever seen." 
 
 " aSot?;-, .John." » 
 
 3[rs. B. " Why, that buy don't know no better how to talk than 
 mo, who han't had no schoolin' at all." 
 
 '' Well, never mind, never mind, John," said Mr. Markham, fear- 
 ing John would go back to his bow and begin again. '' Your heart's 
 right, my boy, and I'll soon set your tongue right. Mrs. Brown, 
 you're going to aee John a big man some of these days." So saying, 
 uc retired in haste — in haste for two reasons : the one was, that he 
 might relievo himself from the laughter Avith which he had been 
 filling up from the beginning to tlic end of the interview ; and the 
 other was. to di>cnibarras.» John, \vhr», between his c-orrcctious, and 
 his mother's comments, was likely to become inextricably bewildered. 
 
 John wa.s the first boy at school the next morning j and thence- 
 forward .Mr. Markham never had cause to correct him, or even to i*c- 
 provc him. He soon became one of the best bcholars in the school^ 
 distingui.vhed himself at cveiy examination and e.xhibition, and in 
 a short time became such a popular favorite that when .Mr. Markham 
 proposed to the citizens to unite in raising a fund to give hiui a libe- 
 ral education, he had not the least difficulty in finding the requisite 
 number of contributors. 
 
180 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 Just before Captain Tlioiupson's last sickness, the arrangement had 
 been made for David Thompson, George Markham and John Brown, 
 to leave for Princeton College, N. J., on the lOth of the ensuing 
 November. Princeton was, at that time, in the South at least, the 
 most renowned College in the Union. Captain Thompson appointed 
 Mr. Markham one of the executors of his will, and authoHzed him 
 to appropriate any sum out of his estate that he might deem ueces- 
 sary, to the education of John Brown, not exceeding one hundred 
 dollars per annum. He ako appointed Mr. Markham testamentary 
 guardian of his two sons, David and Ueorge, until the completion of 
 their education ; dire'cting that " in all matters touching the educa- 
 tion of his two sons, should a difterence of opinion arise between his 
 wife [his other representative] and Mr. Markham, his judgment 
 should be decisive." 
 
 x\.fter an illness of two weeks, William Mitten recovered, and at 
 the end of four, his health whs entirely restored. About this time, 
 his mother said to him : 
 
 " William, isn't it time for you to think of returning to Dr. Wad- 
 del's?" 
 
 " Mother," said he, " I can never go back to Dr. Wuddel's." 
 
 "What !" exclaimed she, horror-stricken, " Oh, my dear, depart- 
 ed brother ! Is this affliction to be added to the thousand that thy 
 death has cost fte ?" 
 
 " No, mother, if uncle were alive, he never could induce me tore- 
 turn to Dr. Waddel's. I feared him, I loved him, I adored him, to 
 the day of his death. If I could have saved his life by having my 
 right arm chopped oif, I would have done it freely; but uncle could 
 never have induced me to go back to Willington." 
 
 "William, in mercy to me, tell me quickly, why V , 
 
 " Because I have disgraced myself there." 
 
 " .Disgraced yourself there ! Oh, how little we poor mortals know 
 what to pray for I Would that you had died on the bed from which 
 you have just risen ! — No, my heavenly Father, pardon me ! — In 
 disgrace you were not fit to die ; in disgrace you are not fit to live. 
 William, let me know the worst — don't keep me a moment longer in 
 suspense, if you have any respect for me — I may he able to survive 
 the disclosure, if you make it immediately : I may not be able to 
 survive it, if you keep me a few days in this agony of suspense." 
 
 " I have lied, 1 have gambled, I have drank, acd been detected iu 
 all, and exposed before the whole school " 
 
 '< Is that all, ? — is that the worst !" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN, 181 
 
 "Yes, uia'aiiij that's the worst: and I ilon't know what could be 
 worse." 
 
 "Bad enough — bad, indeed; but it might have been worse. I 
 liave nothing to say in defence of these sins ; but liow did you rush 
 into them so speedily, after your return ?" 
 
 " That infern — , that abominable horse !" 
 
 '' How could lie have involved you in this .•^cries of offences, in so 
 short a time?" 
 
 WilliaiM gave his u'Other a full and tiuthful account of all the dif- 
 ficulties in which his horse had involved him. "When he had con- 
 cluded, she resumed : 
 
 '• I was sure that things had been going wrong with you, from the 
 brief letter you wrote, ^and which did not reach- me until some days 
 after your return. It bore the marlcs of great carelcf-sncss and want 
 of feeling." 
 
 " That letter was part of the deceit which I began to practice on 
 you and Uncle before I left here, and which I was carrying on. when 
 I was detected by Mr.'Waddel." 
 
 " Well, William, you have learned from short, but sad experience, 
 the consequences of vice ; and now abandon it forever. I am under 
 inexpressible obligatioDS to Mr. Waddel, for his vigilance in arrest- 
 iiig you in it, before it could become a habit with jou. And, now, 
 my advice to you is, to return to his school, do your first works over 
 again, and retrieve your character, as you soon will, where you lost it." 
 
 " No, mother, I cannot go back there ; I'd rather die than do it." 
 
 " Well, what will you do, my son "i' What school will you go to ?" 
 
 " i don't care about going into any school. If you arc willing, I 
 will go into a st<5rc as a clerk?" 
 
 " Mercy on me, William ! Close up all your bright prospects — 
 bury your brilliant talents among goods and groceries ! No, my son, 
 I never can consent to that." 
 
 "Why, ma; almost all the mercliantsin town began as clerks, and 
 see how rich and respectable they are !" 
 
 "But Providence has given you talents above this calling!" 
 
 " My talents have done rcc very little good as yet, and I doubt f* 
 whether they ever will do me any. What good will Latin and Greek 
 do me ? Nob#dy speaks Latin and Greek. I don't see any good in 
 anything hardly, that we learn at echool. 1 think I had better stay 
 here with you, and take care of 30U, and be trying to get an honest 
 living, than to be running off to echool, where I will be constantly 
 under temptations." 
 
182 KASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " Well, my sou, there is a good deal of force iu your remarks. It 
 will cost a hard struggle to give up my fond hopes of your future 
 distinction ; but I can easily reconcile myself to your position in life 
 as a respectable, wealthy, private citizen. It will be a great comfort 
 to have you all the time with me. But let us think a while longer 
 before we decide upon this matter." 
 
 While it was held under advisement, Doctor Waddel's promised 
 letter arrived. After tender expressions of condolence with Mrs. 
 Mitten and her brother's family in their recent bereavement, it con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " But the main object of this letter is to offer your son encourage- 
 ments to return to school. He left here under great depression of 
 spirits, and under the impression that his character was irretrievably 
 lost. No one in this vicinity, in or out of the school, thinks so. Now 
 that the story of his misfortunes is fully understood, every one at- 
 tributes them to a train of untoward circumstances which surround- 
 ed him, on his return hither, rather than to depravity of heart. In- 
 deed, he has some noble traits of character, which almost entirely 
 conceal his faults from the eyes of the public and his school-fellows — 
 I say the j^vhlic, for though it is a very uncommon thing for the pub- 
 lic to know or notice school-boy delinquencies, yet so wide-spread 
 was William's reputation from his performances at our last Examina- 
 tion and Exhibition, that every one who knows him take.-; an inter- 
 est in him, and every one, I believe, regards him with more of sym- 
 pathy than censure. All would rejoice, I doubt not, to hear of his 
 return to the school, and his return to his good habits. Gilbert Hay, 
 his room-mate and bed-fellow, bids mc say that he loves him yet, and 
 that the half of his bed is still reserved for him; and the feelings of 
 Gilbert Hay towards him, I believe, are the feelings of nine-tenth? 
 of the school towards him. For myself, 1 shall give him a cordial 
 welcome. But you will naturally ask, what will be my dealings 
 with him, if he return ? I answer the question very frankly: I shall 
 feel myself bound to correct him; though iu so doing T shall not 
 forget the many circumstances of extenuation in his case. Had he 
 been guilty of but one offence, and that of a vencal nature, I should 
 freely forgive it, as is my custom, with the first offence. But he has 
 been guilty of several offences, and though none of them are very 
 rare in schools, they are, nevertheless, such as I have never allowed to 
 go unpunished in my school, and which I could not allow to escape 
 with impunity in this instance, without setting a dangerous prece- 
 dent, as well as showing marked partiality. I have reason to believe 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. IfiS * 
 
 that William would cheerfully submit to the punishment of his 
 faults, even though it were much severer than it will be, if that 
 would restore him to his lost position ; now, I can hardly conceive 
 of anything better calculated to have that effect, than his volunteer- 
 ing to take the punishment which he knows awaits him on his re- 
 turn, when he might perchance avoid it by abandoning the school. 
 But with or without the punishment, he has only to be, for ten 
 months, what he has been for yearly as many, to regain the confi- 
 dence of everybody. Nothing but the peculiar circumstances of this 
 case, and the very lively interest whieh I take in the destiny of your 
 highly-gifted son, could have induced mo to write a letter so liable 
 to misconstruction, as this is. But brief as is our acquaintance, I 
 think you wili credit me, when I assure you, that my own pecuniary 
 interest has had no more to do with it, than yours will have in delib- 
 erating upon its contents. Verily, the loss or gain of a scholar is 
 nothing to Your sincere friend and ob't serv't, 
 
 MosKS Waddel. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 So delighted was Mrs. Mitten with the first part of Dr. Waddel's 
 letter, that she rushed with it half read to her son, and recommenced 
 the reading for his edification and comfort. With the close of al- 
 most evefy' sentence, she would ejaculate, " Dear, good man P' 
 " Ifotc kind!" " Such a mmi is a nationml blessing !" " Who tan 
 help loving him .'" But when she came to the whipping part, she 
 was unable to read without comments, and with becoming compo- 
 sure. Having finished the perusal, " Well," said she, " upon the 
 whole, it is a sweet letter; but I cannot see the necessity of his 
 whipping a boy of your size a month after the tffence is committed, 
 and when he himself admits that there are so many circumstances of 
 extenuation in the case. If everybody else is ready to forgive and 
 forget, why might not he ? But, William, as these arc the only 
 terms upon which you can get back and save your credit, I think 
 you had better go. I will write to Mr. Waddel, informing him of 
 your deep contrition, and begging him if he can possibly pass over 
 the offence without correction, consistently with his sense of duty, 
 to do so ; but if not, then in the midst of justice, to remember mer- 
 cy. Surely, under all the circumstances of the case, the purposes of 
 justice would be as fully answered by two or three stripes, as by " 
 
 " Two or three stripes !" said Bill, "why, he gives double that for 
 simple idleness} and if he were to let ^me off with two or three 
 
'* 184 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 stripes, I'd bring home the marks of them next July. I'd rather 
 take ten such as he commonly gives in the summer time, when the 
 boys wear thin breeches, than three such as he gave one boy named 
 Sapling, ^vhen he found his legs v^rapped up with strips of shirt. If 
 I go back, and h(^lets me off with less than ten peelers, or fifteen of 
 the common sort, I shall think myself lucky." 
 
 '' Oh, William, you make Mr. Waddel a perfect enigma ; how 
 could a man of his kindness of heart, be so inhuman I" 
 ' *' He doesn't think it inhuman to whip students who violate his 
 laws; but it is not worth while to talk about it, ma, for I'm not 
 going back to Mr. Waddel's. As to the whipping, I shouldn't mind 
 that, so very much, if I could believe that I would be put back to 
 where I was before I committed the offences; but I know that that 
 can never be." 
 
 "WqII, my son, I hardly know what to advise. You surely were 
 born under an unlucky star. Alwa^-s, always there is something 
 which obstructs the way which seems best for you to pursue. How 
 unfortunate was it that your uncle gave you that horse ! How much 
 more unfortunate, that you did not accept his offer for him before 
 vour return to Willington ! Oh ! were he now in life I would sur- 
 render you to his government, and never have an opinion of my own 
 upon it, during your minority. But in this single instance of ^jiving 
 you the horse — and there he soon saw his error, and did all that he 
 could do to correct it — his views have always proved right, while 
 mine, however carefully taken, invariably turn out unfortunately." 
 
 " Well, ma, you may console yourself with this reflection, that if 
 Uncle David were alive, he could not Ibrcc me back to Mr. Wad- 
 del's." 
 
 " Yes, William, if he were alive, and felt convinced that your fu- 
 ture destiny hung upon it, you would have to go. He would have 
 reasoned with you, he would have persuaded you, at first; but if he 
 found these means unavailing, he would liave carried you back to 
 school at all hazards. Jlut it is in vain to talk of supposed cases. I 
 cannot do what he might have done. What say you, will you go back 
 or not?" 
 
 " No, ma'am; never, never, never !" 
 
 " William, my feelings are against your going, but my convic- 
 tions are strong and pungent that you ought to go. Something 
 whispers me that if you go, you will be great ; if you do not, you 
 will be ruined. Will you submit to Mr. Markham's advice in the 
 matter?" 
 
MASTER WILl.IAM MITTEN. 185 
 
 " No, ma ; I've thought the matter all over, and I've made up my 
 mind, cooll}- and doliberately, never to go back to Mr. Waddel's." 
 
 Now the truth of the matter ies.'that though Master Mitten, while 
 suffering the first tortures of his exposed guilt, and supposed dis- 
 grace, would very readily have subnutted to a sererc whipping, to 
 have regained his lost ground ; as he became more familiar with his 
 disgrace, it began to set very easily on him, while the u-hipping as- 
 sumed a new interest in his cogitations, and became more and more 
 imposing, as the disgrace became loss and less distressing : so that 
 when the consultation occurred which we have just noticed, the 
 whipping crowded clean out of Master Mitten's mind, every other 
 consideration. It brought him, therefore, to a very decided judgment 
 from which nothing could move him which lay within the range of 
 his mother's devices. And yet there was a lady living within three 
 hundred yards of Mrs. Mitten's house, a beneficiary of hers, who 
 did not know A from a deer's track, who would have managed the 
 case to perfection without the help of Mr. Markharn. That woman 
 was no other than Mrs. Nancy Brown, mother of John Brown, sur- 
 named Poetm, which is by interpretation, Pink-Eyed. We opine 
 that if Mrs. Brown had been in the place of Mrs. Mitten, and Mas- 
 ter John in the place of Master William, she would have given him, 
 the said John, such a '< cawhalloping," that Dr. Waddel's best " fif- 
 teen" would have been a Charlotte-russe to it. We have no doubt 
 that John would have given his " cawhalloping" for the "fifteen," 
 and made one of his best bows to Dr. Waddel, to boot. 
 
 No alternative was now left to Mrs. Mitten but to procure a clerk- 
 ship for William in some store of the village. Two of the merchants, 
 Mr. Sanders and Mr. Dillon, had been enquiring for clerks, a. little 
 while before Mrs. Mitten took the rounds in her son's behalf. 
 
 She went first to Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " Mr. Sanders," said she, " don't you wish to employ a clerk in 
 your store ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam," said 'Mr. Sanders, " very much indeed." 
 
 " Well, I wouW be very glad if jou would take my son Wil- 
 liam " 
 
 "Your son William, Mrs. Mitten ! why surely you are not going 
 to take such a smart boy as that frouuschool, to make a clerk of him !" 
 
 •* He has quit school " 
 
 "Quit school ! Why, how did that happen ?" * * 
 
 " He got dis.satisficd, and wished to get into some employment, 
 •And desires a clerkship " 
 
186 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " Dear, dear, dear ! How thoughtless boys are ! Why, Mrs. Mit- 
 ten, you oughtn't to alloW%im to quit school. That boy was cut out 
 for a great man — yes, for a very great man " 
 
 "Well, Mr. Sanders, his talents will not be in the way of your em- 
 ploying him, I hope." 
 
 ** Oh, no, ma'am, no ! I prefer a smart boy to a dull one, certainly j 
 but it does look like such a sacrifice to put such a boy as that behind 
 the counter ! If he's determined to quit school, he ought, by all 
 means, to study law or physic." 
 
 " He's too young for that." 
 
 " Oh — ah, yes. He's too young to go into any sort of business. 
 A store, in such a place as this, is a very dange-rous place for a youth 
 of William's age. I never could forgive myself if I should take 
 him into my store at his tender age, and he should turn out badly — " 
 
 "But he will be constantly under your eye and mine, Mr. San- 
 ders." 
 
 "Ah, there's the difl&culty, Mrs. Mitten. He will not be constant- 
 ly under my eye. I have long trips to make to the i>orth twice a 
 year — repeated trips to Augusta and Savannah. But, Mrs. Mitten, 
 if you are disposed to risk it, such is my regard for you and your 
 family — but he is too young — entirely too young \" 
 
 "Why, Mr. Sanders, he can't be younger than young Dally was 
 when you first took him ; and he did well while he was with you, 
 and went out of your store to preaching." 
 
 " Very true, very true, Mrs. Mitten. But young Dally was the son 
 
 of a widow and — so is William; and thus far the cases are alike. 
 
 But Mrs. Dally was a poor widow, with a number of sons, and you 
 are a rich widow with but one son. It was a charity (somewhat) to 
 take her son, but it would be no charity to take yours. And, you 
 see, moreover, besides, Mrs. Mitten, you would never be satisfied 
 with the wages for William that I gave young Dally " 
 
 " I don't care, Mr. Sanders, if you give him no wages at all ' 
 
 " Oh, bless my soul, Mrs. Mitten, that would never do ! I couldn't 
 think ot taking your boy for nothing." 
 
 " Well just give him what you think proper. It is not for the pay 
 that I wish to put him under you, but simply to acquaint himself 
 with the mercantile business. I will board him and clothe him my-- 
 self, and if you choose to gite him anything, very well; it will go to 
 him, and he won't care whether it is much or little." 
 
 "Ah, there you are mistaken, Mrs. Mitten. William would never 
 be satisfied to see other boys in town, not half as smart as he is, get- 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 187 
 
 ting two or three times aa much as he gets — and I shouldn't blame 
 him at :ill. Besides, T can't think of fixing his wages myself. If I 
 take him, it must be under contract with you, in which his wages 
 must be settled to our mutual satisfaction. William must havenotU- 
 ir.g to do with it. Now what would you be willing to take for his 
 services '/" 
 
 " Why, bless my soul, Mr. Sanders, I know nothing about such 
 matters. I'm willing to take anything you choose to give." 
 
 Mr. Sanders looked down, scratched his head, and said rather to 
 himself, than to Mrs. Mitten : •' How shall we fix this thing. I (Jis- 
 like very much that any obstacle should stand in the way of my get- 
 ting the services of such a brilliant youth as he is. But, stop, stop, 
 stop. Does William understand Arithmetic pretty well ? If he 
 doesn't, you know it would be impossible for me to employ him." 
 
 " I presume he does ; he was considered very smart at figures bj 
 his teachers here." 
 
 " Well, if that's the ca.se, I reckon wo sliall be enabled to get along. 
 Send him to-morrow morning, Mrs. Mitten, at nine o'clock precisely, 
 and I will tr}^ him a little at figures, and if he docs well, why then, 
 that will take away the only insuperable obstacle to employing him." 
 
 Mrs. Mitten pnnnised to .send him over at the appointed time, and 
 retired. 
 
 The Mr. Sanders of whom wo have been speaking, was Mr. D. 
 Sanders, who was doing business with his brother, Mr. B. Sanders, 
 under the copartnership name of D. & B. Sanders. The last, how- 
 ever, was little more than a dormant partner. 
 
 The conversation just detailed was hardly ended before it reached 
 Mr. Dillon 'fe ears, who, at precisely nine o'clock the next morning, 
 closed doors, and'' ahf^qiuitulatcil," as l^illy Muniord would say, alias 
 *^ vamoo)ie(l '' alias was "taken with agrttivg avai/." 
 
 William was ])rompt to Mrr Sanders' appointed hour. 
 
 ''Well, William," said Mr. Sanders, "your mother tolls me you 
 are going to quit school, and tnko to clerking. Is it so T' 
 
 " Yes, sir, I am beat ujwu that." 
 
 " Dear me, dear me, what a pity ! Why, William, you were cut 
 out for something greater than a counter-hoppor. I earnestly advise 
 you, my son, to gp on and fini.'<h your education. Everybody says 
 that if you only take the right turn, you will be one of the great- 
 est men that (leorgia ever produced. Now, are J"ou gtiing to dis- 
 appoint us all ? I want a clerk badly, but I had rather do with- 
 out a clerk a twelve month, than be the means of turning you aside 
 
188 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN, 
 
 > 
 
 from the glory which is before you, if you only iinprove your talents 
 in the right way. So reluctant am I to offering you any encourage- 
 ment to give up your fine f rospects, that I am really afraid your 
 mother took up the idpa that I didn't wish to employ you. Now, 
 William, take an old man's advice; return to school, complete your 
 education, study law, be studious, be ujoral, and by and by you'll 
 never get done thanking me for stopping you in the course you are 
 now pursuing." 
 
 "Mr. Sanders," said William, "I've heard my talents spoken of 
 and praised ever since I was a child, and' instead of doing me any 
 
 good, they have done mc nothing but harm " 
 
 " Oh, my son, the time hasn't come yet for ycu to reap the bene- 
 fits of your talents. Look at lawyer M .and lawyer C , 
 
 and lawyer J' , who had nothing to depend upon but their tal- 
 ents ; where are they nov,'? All on the high road to fortune and to 
 fame ! Now I don't believe cither of them had as bright talents as 
 you have." 
 
 Just here Mr. B. Sanders, who was i arel_y seen about the store, rede 
 up, dismounted, and walked into the counting room. 
 
 " My mind is made up, Mr. Sanders," said William, "and if you 
 will not employ me, I must seek a place elsewhere." 
 
 " Well, if you are determined to go into a store — which store would 
 you prefer ?" 
 
 " I prefer yours greatly to any store in town." 
 "Well, however desirous I may be to employ you, you know your- 
 self, my son, that I can't do it unless you understand figures pretty 
 well." 
 
 " Of course not," said William. % 
 
 " Well, here take the slate and pencil, and let me try you a little. 
 How much will five and a half yards of cloth come to, at five and a 
 half dollars a yard V , 
 
 The question was no sooner asked, than William answered it by 
 his head without touching pencil to slqte. Mr. Sanders took the 
 slate, ciphered it up, found the answer correct, rubbed out his calcu- 
 lation, and returned the slate to William, saying, "Very well done, 
 my son; but that's head-work, and it won't do to keep merchants' 
 accounts by the head; do it on the slate." 
 
 William did it on the slate in less time than Mr. Sanders did it. 
 "Very well. How much will eighteen ponnds and three quarters 
 'of sugar come to, at eighteen and three quarter cents a pound." 
 
 William gave the answer promptly, not by his head, but according 
 to Pike. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 189 
 
 " Very well, William ! Very promptly and quickly done ! How 
 mucli -will five-eighths of a yard of cloth come to at five eighths of a 
 dollar a yard." 
 
 William soon presented the answer. 
 " It isn't right my son," said Mr. Sanders. 
 William reviewed it. 
 
 "Yes, it is right, Mr. Sunders," said William. 
 Sanders looked over it again and acknowledged his error. 
 " Well, William," said Mr. Sanders, " I will put a few more ques- 
 tions to you and then release you. How much will seven and a 
 quarter yards of cloth come to at one pound, seven shillings and six- 
 pence ha'penny sterling a yard ?"' 
 
 William gave the answer correctly. 
 
 " AYell, let me try you a little at interest." lie put down upon 
 the slate "S567i'/ and handed it to William. "There," said he, 
 " give me the interest on that sum for a month and a half, at eight 
 per cent." 
 
 William took the slate, placed a dot to the right of the first figure 
 and handed it hack, saying " there's the answer sir — six dollars, 
 sixty-seven and a quarter cents." 
 
 Mr. Sanders went over the sum in the common way, while W^il- 
 liam stood chuckling. When he brought out the result just as 
 William had it, he looked at him with perfect amazement. " Well, 
 William," said he, " I believe you arc the smartest boy at figures 
 that I ever saw in all my life." 
 
 Here Mr. B. Sanders stepped in. " Why, brother," said he, 
 " have you turned school master ?" 
 
 " No," said Mr. D., " I was trying William on arithmetic, to sec 
 if he would answer for a clerk for us." 
 
 " Why, I've engaged a clerk," said Mr. B. Sanders. 
 
 " lou have !" said Mr. D., " who is it ?" 
 
 "John Dally, brother of our old clerk." 
 
 " Why brother, there never was a J)ally to compare with William 
 Mitten at figures ! I verily believe he is better than both of us put 
 tegethcr. Couldn't you get off from your engagement with Mrs. 
 Pally, so that we may employ William ?" 
 
 " I suppose I could, if I wore to ask her to let me off, but that's 
 not my way of dealing." 
 
 " Well, William," said Mr. P. Sanders, "you see how it is — wc 
 shall have to give you up. Tell your mother, that I was not only 
 satisfied with your knowledge of arithmetic, hut that I was delight- 
 
190 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 ed with it — amazed at it; but that my brother, knowing that we 
 wanted a clerk, had employed one." 
 
 William went home and related all that had passed between him 
 and Mr. D, Sanders. 
 
 " Well, was there ever .such an unlucky mortal born, William, aK 
 you are !" said Mrs. MitteA. " It seems almost supernatural." 
 
 On Mr. Dillon's return home, which was two days and a half after 
 his " absqvatuJation," Mrs. Mitten waited on him to know if he 
 would not employ her son. But Mr. Dillon had just engaged a 
 young man, who had been highly recommended to him. 
 
 Mrs. Mitten now made application to every other merchant in 
 town, but they were all supplied with clerks ; they all spoke, how- 
 ever, iu the highest terms of William's talents. 
 
 '• And what will you do now, my sou," said she, " seeing your 
 favorite plan is broken up ?" 
 
 " I really don't know, mother ; I am at the end of my row." 
 
 Mr. Markham, healing of her disappointment, called upon Mrs. 
 Mitten and proposed to her to let William go on with his cousin 
 David, Greorge Markham, and John Brown, and fit himself for col- 
 lege under Doctor Finley, a celebrated teacher at Basken Ridge, 
 New Jersey. "If," said Mr. Markham, "William will apply him- 
 self closely to the study of Greek and Mathematics, (the only studies 
 in which he is deficient,) he will be able to enter the Freshman 
 class in six months with ease, I am certain." 
 
 The proposition was readily embraced by both the mother and the 
 son; and while she commenced his outfit for the journey, he com- 
 menced the study of Greek assiduously. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. • 
 
 About iiiuo days before tlictiinc appointed for Masters Thotupsou, 
 Markham, Brown and Mitten to leave for the North, Mr. Beach, a 
 celebrated manufacturer of vehicles, in Newark, New Jersey, came 
 to the village, on a collecting tour through the State of Georgia. He 
 was well known to Mr. B. vSandcrs, who suggested to him that the 
 four youths just mentioned were about leaving for his State, and that 
 he would confer a very great favor on their parents, by taking charge 
 of them, at least as far as his residence. Mr. Beach very cheerful- 
 ly and kindly offered to do so, provided they could delay their de- 
 parture until the fifterfhth of the month, and meet him at Augusta 
 "oh that date. Mr. Sanders sent for Mr. Markham, introduced him 
 to Mr. Beach, and the arrangement was made to suit the conveni- 
 ence of the latter. On the fourteenth, xMv. Markham was in An 
 gusta with the -four youtlis, where ho found Mr. Beach ready to 
 take charge of them. They were placed under his care, and left 
 with him for Jersey, via Savannah, the next morning. On the 
 evening before their departure, Mr. Markham addressed the four as 
 follows : 
 
 " I canMOt part with you, my young friends, perhaps forever, with- 
 out giving 3'ou the benefit of my experience and observation in the 
 way of counsel. Bear with me if I occasionally play the woman in 
 delivering it, for I speak from a heavy heart. Was ever man placed 
 in precisely the relation which I .sustain to you all ! I can with 
 truth say, that 1 never felt the delicacy and responsibilities of it, in 
 all their force, until this moment.*^ When I left college, I had no 
 higher ambition than to be a good and a useful man ; and I saw no 
 better way of attaining these ends than by devoting myself to the 
 instruction of youth. I determined to engage in this vocation — 
 grfeatly to the disappointment and mortiBcation of my only surviving 
 parent, who, mother like, far over-estimated my gifts and attain- 
 ments, and regarded them as certain passports to high political or 
 judicial distinction, while in consonance with a miserably perverted 
 public opinion of that day, Tnot yet entirely reformed,) she esteemed 
 the calling of the ' School Master ' as hurdly respectable. T Faw the 
 importance of it, and the bitter fruits of this debasement of public 
 opinion, (that it was throwing the sacred business of instruction into 
 the hands of the worst of characters) and I determined that, to the 
 extent of my ability, I would elevate the character of the teacher 
 
192 MASTER WILLIAM IMITTEN. 
 
 and rectify the popular ei-ror. I opened my school at first in this 
 place, and afterwards in the village where I now reside. I soon ac- 
 quired the couiidenee of the villagers — at least of all whose confi- 
 dence was worth having. I appreciated il highly, and studied to 
 retain and strengthen it by a faithful discharge of my duty as an in- 
 structor, and the performance of good offices as a man. The conse- 
 quence has been, that trust after trust has been devolved "^ipon me 
 through a long series of years. I accepted them simply on the 
 score of friendship, benevolence or humanity, thinking nothing of 
 the responsibilities attached to them, until I found myself occupying 
 the place of a parent to four youths of fiiir promise, of different 
 means, tempers and dispositions,' at the most critical period of life, 
 bn the eve of their departure from the parental roof, for two, three 
 or more years. Verily, my position is an unenviable one ; but it 
 will be a source of future rejoicing to us all, if you choose to make 
 it such. That you may make it such, Jisten to the last counsels that 
 I expect ever to give you; remembering that there are others much 
 more deeply interested in your observance of them, (with but one 
 exception) than I am. 
 
 •' Hitherto you have had wiser heads to shape your course, to correct 
 your errors, to check your wanderings, and to guard your morals, 
 than your own. From to-morrow you must be thrown mainly upon 
 your own resources, and that too amidst scenes of novelty, temptation 
 and trial, to which you are entire strangers. Fortunately for me, 
 and more fortunately for you if you will be advised, I am enabled to 
 anticipate the more serious evils to which you will be exposed during 
 your sojourn abroad, and to fortify you against them. Come safely 
 through these, and your character will survive all others, though it 
 may be smartly chafed by them. To these, however, I shall not con- 
 fine my counsels, for my purpose is, not simply to save ;^ou from 
 ruin, but to exalt you to honorable distinction. 
 
 '.'I begin with your duty to Mr. 13each, who has laid us all under 
 obligations to him which we can never repay. He has kindly 
 promised to take you to his house upon reaching Newark, to retain 
 you there for two days, until he can dispose of a little pressing busi- 
 ness, then to accompany you to New York, and devote two more 
 days to showing you the city and as many of its curiosities as can 
 be seen in so short a time, and then to see you all to your destina- 
 tion. Now, whether we are indebted to. his native goodness of heart 
 for these unusual and unlooked for kindnesses, or to his friendship 
 for Mr. Sanders, they cercainly demand your profoundest respect and 
 
MASTER WILLIAJtf MITTEN, 193 
 
 your warmest feelings of gratitude. Let him see that you arc sensi- 
 ble of them. In your intercourse with him be modest, but not bash- 
 ful ; easy, but not forward ; familiar, but not pert ; and at all times 
 and under all circumstances, show him the most marked deference 
 and respect. When he speaks, give him your attention.- Arrest 
 always your conversation with each other, (o hear what he has to 
 say. Should he use an ungrammatieal expression, or betray ignor- 
 ance of any of the very few things nvhich you know, you are not to 
 evince by word, smile or interchange of look, that you notice or 
 know of his defects. AuticiMte his wishes, and relieve him of the 
 burden of you as much as possible. Take care of your own trunks 
 and of his, (if he ^Vill allow you to do so) under his direction. 
 ^Yhatever opinions he may advance, you ai-e not to object to them ; 
 much less are you to debate them with him. These rules should be 
 observed in your intercourse with your elders generally, more es- 
 pecially are they to be observed in your intercourse with a benelac- 
 tor. 
 
 '' In the course of your travels, you will sooner or later be thrown 
 ip coi«p;iny with every variety of character; the grave, the scientific, 
 the facetious, the ignorant, the profane, the vile. Be not forward in 
 obtruding j'oursolvcs upon the notice of either class. A modest and 
 diffident approach to men of rank and le.irning, you may make, with 
 propriety and improvement; but take care to let them ahtays lead in 
 the conversation ; and as soon as they turn their attention from you 
 to another, cease to be talkers, and become listeners. Let others 
 entertain the wit, not you. To the ignorant bo charitable, not rude. 
 Ignorance is no crime. Show no countenance to the vulgar and the 
 profane. I do not say that it is your province to rebuke them ; but 
 it is your duty to yourselves to exhibit no signs of approbation to 
 anything that falls from the lips of such characters. And do not 
 suppose that you will gain credit for purity of heart, by simply ab- 
 staining from vulgarity of lip yourselves. Let me sec how you re- 
 ceive it from the lijis of others, and I will tell you exactly ho'v'^5 
 you differ from them in moral character. Does it absorb your atten- 
 tion ? Does it excite a smile ? Does it raise nb blush upon your 
 check '{ Does it receive from you an impulsive hint '( You arc no 
 better at heart than the retailer of it. The only difference between 
 you is, that you are a little more prudent than he is, in your choice 
 of times and places of relieving your hearts from thi."! moral fecu- 
 lence. 
 
 '' Do not allow yourselves to contraot the habit of profane swearing. 
 
194 . MASTER WJLLIAM MIITEN. 
 
 Aside from its sinfulness, it should be eschewed by every man who 
 desires to become fascinating in conversation, or renowned in elocu- 
 tion. I never saw the veri/ profane swearer, who was a very eloquent 
 extemporaneous speaker. The reason is plain : such an one, always 
 accustomed to filling up his sentences with oaths, cannot command 
 the appropriate terms to supply their places when they are rejected. 
 "When you enter college, you will be presented with a copy of its 
 laws : read them attentively, and resolve to obey them. Indeed, 
 you will be required to si^n a written pledge to do so. A word upon 
 this pledge. It is called the matriculation pledge, and imports the 
 formal admission of the student into the Institution. How it comes 
 to pass I know not, but so it is, that not one in twenty students 
 regard this solemnly recorded vow as of any force whatever. A 
 large majority do not violate it — at least in any important particu- 
 lars — but whether their conformity to it is from respect to it,, or a 
 proper sense of its obligations, is very questionable. It is certain, 
 that in the four years in which I was in college, I never heard it ad- 
 verted to as a ground of obedience to the rules of the Institution. 
 One day, a very grave, pious student said to a rather wild one, iij 
 my presence, ' How does it happen that so many students treat the 
 matriculation pledge as a nullity r 'Oh,' said the other, 'when I 
 took the pledge, I understood it to mean that I would keep the law, 
 or endure the penalty' (!) I see you all smile at this stupendous 
 discovery in moral philosophy, and well you may. If every official 
 oatb, and every private promise were to be interpreted in this way, 
 no government could last a year, and every ligament that binds man 
 to man would be severed in less time. Officers might do as they 
 please, and ' endure the penalty !' Husbands might forsake their 
 wives, and wives their husbands, and ' endure the penalty !' I 
 might desert you here, and take your funds to myself and * endure 
 the penalty !' Mr. Beach may desert you in Savannah or New York 
 and ' endure the penalty !' But I forget myself — you see the ab- 
 sr^/lity of this doctrine as plainly as I do. If you mean to disre- 
 gard your matriculation pledge, tell me so now, that I may save you 
 from the sin of taking it. If you mean to keep it, all further coun- 
 sels from me would seem unnecessary. Not, so, however: nine- 
 tenths of those who take it, mean at the time to keep it ; but from 
 temptation, want of caution, or some other cause, they violate it; 
 and then they think one violation as bad as a thousand, and become 
 desperate, or quiet their consciences with some such miserable ap- 
 pliance as that to which we have just .adverted. Now, this is all 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 195 
 
 wrong. One breach of duty can never justify another ; and there 
 is almost as wide a diifercnce betwcou a deliberate fault, undone 
 committed under severe temptation, its there is between innocence 
 and guilt. If, therefore, you should be betrayed into a breach of 
 your pledge, do not consider yourselves as released from it, but as 
 instructively admonished to guard with quickened vigilance against 
 the associations or train of events that led you into it. 
 
 " But, my young friends, there is a condition attached to that 
 pledge — an implied one, to be sure, but none the less obligatory on 
 that account — which Professors arc apt to forget ; but students, 
 never : It is, that the members of the Faculty discharge their duties 
 faithfully to the students. And here is the prolific source of many 
 difficulties in Colleges. One duty of the Faculty students always 
 see very clearly ; and that is, that every member of the Faculty is 
 bound to treat them with tenderness, courtesy and respect, and this 
 duty they not only exact with unreasonable rigor, but treat a breach 
 of it in the most unreasonable manner that human ingenuity could 
 devise. They hold the Professor bound to this duty, no matter 
 how they may treat him. This is bad enough, but their mode of 
 dealing with the -offending Professor is ten thousand times worse. 
 The injured party, instead of mildly and calmlj' laying his grievances 
 before the Professor, and asking an explanation of him, which in 
 ninety-nine cases out o<f a hundred would produce a reconciliation, 
 spreads his grievances through the College. His class (perhaps two 
 or three classes,) espouse his cause, visit the Professor witR every 
 species of insult and indignity, set all the laws of the Institution at 
 defiance, rage like the Bacchantes of old, get themselves expelled by 
 the dozen and suspended by the scorn, and then come to order. 
 
 " There was but on.3 row of this kind while I was in College ; and 
 though I really sympathised with the student whose wrongs pro- 
 duced it, I took no part in it, because I could not see what good end 
 wa.<j to be accomplished by it. And had I not seen such things with 
 my own eyes, I could not have believed it jtossible that any iiuman 
 being out of Bedlam could act in this Avay. I was blamed fur my 
 neutrality while the uproar was in progress, but never afterwards. 
 Now, should either of 3-ou feel yourselves aggrieved by anything said or 
 done by any member of the Faculty, after allowing cooling time for 
 yourself and him, go to him and lay the grounds of your complaint 
 before him privately and temperately. If he does not give you satis- 
 faction, appeal in lik(j^manner to the Faculty. If they give you no 
 redress, appeal to the Trustees; and if they give you no redress 
 
196 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 appeal to me, and, if your cause be juat, I will procure for you an 
 honorable dismission, and rcij^ove you from the College. This course 
 will be mucli more creditable and profitable to you, than to tax the 
 friendship of your fellow-students with your vindication, when it is 
 impossible that they can ga'n anything by it, and certain that they 
 will lose incalculably. All this upon the supposition that you are 
 actually niultreated by a Professor without any fault on your part — a 
 case which hardly ever occurs. Take care that you do not construe 
 the duf(/ of a Professor into a fault. The laws will show you what 
 he is bound, to do ; and all that he does in obedience to the laws, do 
 fbu submit to without murmurs or complaint. It is no ground of 
 objection to him that Qther Professors are more remibS in the dis- 
 charge of their duties than he is. The comparison between him and 
 them will be altogether in their favor while you are in College, but 
 altogether in his when you come out of it, especially if you ever 
 ( become the Trustee of a College. 
 
 " The greatest danger to which you will be exposed, is from the 
 shocking system of ethics which prevails in Colleges. It is admitted 
 on all hands, that a student should not become a voluntary informer 
 against his fellow-students. But even to this rule there ought to be 
 some exceptions ; and the exceptions should cover all cases where 
 the information is given from a principle of benevolence to the 
 students themselvo?. and there" is no other means of securing the 
 end in view but by information lodged with authorities of the Col- 
 lege, or of the State. A student, for instance, knows of a. contem- 
 plated duel between two of his fellow-students; he uses his best 
 exertions to stop it, but fails; is he to be branded with the infamy 
 of a common informer, because he puts the Faculty in possession of 
 the faoi ? Surely not. A fortiori, where the intended crime would 
 produce irreparable injury to a person, and subject the student him- 
 self to the pain of death, as murder, • arson, treason, and thj like. 
 True, none of these crimes but the first mentioned (the duel,) are 
 likely to ever occur in a College; but should they occur, it is very 
 doubtful whether the informer vi^ould find any quarter among his 
 c allege companions. 
 
 "But let us come to a case very likely to occur. It is a rule in 
 some Colleges, (in most of them, I believe,) that if a student is 
 char-^ed with an offence, and another is called on to testify in his 
 case, and refuse, he shall be dismissed. Every student who enters 
 the College pledges himself to keep this law; and yet, in the judg- 
 ment of seven-tenths of the students, it is considered basely dis- 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 197 
 
 honorable to testify, if his testimony would prove the guilt of the 
 accused ! The culprit himself has not the magnanimity tt) confess 
 his guilt, and save his ionocent friends from punishment, but, 
 shielded by this miscniblo abortion of College coinitjy, ho avoids.de- 
 tcction, sees them disgraced, driven oQ' and robbed of man's richest 
 boon, (a liberal education,) while he quietly retains his place, and 
 ultimately pockets his Parchment ! And yet, black, rotten and 
 foetid as he is, some of the unimplicated congratulate him on his 
 escape, and many of them hold fellowship with "him, not only with- 
 out nausea, "but with an agreeable relish ! ! The dirty lump of hu- 
 manity should be turned over to the scavenger, by the unanimous 
 verdict of the College, and pitched into the remotest sewer from it. 
 Now this case has actually happened, and it may happen again while 
 you are in College. If so, and you are cognizant of the oft'ence, 
 (no< a jMirticipant in if,) and sunjnioifed as a witness against an of- 
 fender, go to him and tell him to confess his fault, or you will he,- 
 come a witness against him. If thus forewarned, he refuses to con- 
 fess, testify against him. His friendship is not worth having, nor 
 is the friendship of a legion of students, who would cut your ac- 
 quaintance for so doing. I know it is hard to bear the derision and 
 contempt of your College companions; but bear that, or even n)ar- 
 tyrdoni, rather than forfeit your word, incur di.sgrace, be driven from 
 the walks of science, and have your fairest" prospects blighted, to 
 favor a villain. 
 
 " That students should suffer themselves to be punished, in ofder 
 to conceal the guilt of an oil'ender too vile to own his guilt — that a 
 rule should obtain among (hem, which makes it better to be a culprit 
 \han a witness, safer to sin than to see it, more honorable to profit 
 by magnanimity than td practice it, and more graceful in the male- 
 factor to divide his responsibilities among his friends than to boar 
 them himself — is marvelous indeed. Vnit the wonders of College 
 ethics do not stop here. Another principle of the school is, that no 
 member of the Iraternity is to exculpate hiinxr.lf from a crime com- 
 mitted by one of his fellowy ; because, foisnoth. if all who are inno-" 
 coHt, avow their innocence, the guilty one must be discovered if he 
 be a man of truth ! ]>y the law' of all Colleges, I bnlievo, if a 
 student stands mute when questioned as to his participation in an 
 oflence, he is to be regarded as the perpetrator of it, and to be visited 
 accordingly. Students, innocent studcnte, stand luute and endure the 
 penalty I They virtually acknowledge fl fault, of which they are not 
 guilty. Who is to be benefiioil i'^- thoir self-sacrifice, they know 
 
198 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 not — or may not know ! Whether any crime at all has been com- 
 mitted by a fellow-student they do not know, and do not enquire ! 
 
 Whether the consequences which they apprehend, will follow from 
 their exonerating themselves, they cannot know ! Their course of 
 couduct will save the offender, or it wi]l not. If it save him, he 
 escapes and they are punished; if it do not save him, they share his 
 fate witliout doing him any service ! Why this is monstrous ! 
 Young men, you are not to forfeit the inestimable blessings of a lib- 
 eral education, for any such refinements as these. You are not to 
 encourage the idea that you arc evil-doers, when you are not ! You 
 are not to lacerate your parents' feelings, to conciliate the blind 
 votaries of a preposterous dogma ! I know that you must have a 
 will of iron and nerves of steel, to withstand the sneers, the jibes, 
 the taunts, the scorn of your college compeers. You can have no ■ 
 idea of their potency until they begin to threaten you. Why are 
 such conservative agencies abused to the encouragement of vice and 
 the terror of virtue ! How h'as it come to pass, that wrong receives 
 more favor in schools and colleges than anywhere else ? How hap- 
 pens it, that every code of morals, human and divine, is reversed in 
 these Institutions ? It is umazing, it is unaccountable ! But, my 
 young friends, there is n^ajesty and power in virtue, if she will as- 
 sume her prerogatives, which will command respect and awe down 
 opposition,' even in colleges. Put yourselves under her guardian- 
 ship, and with head erect and heart unawed, boldly meet the cham- 
 pions of vice, and you are certain of victory, alid of victory's richest 
 spoils : a quiet conscience, approving teachers, rejoicing parents, 
 mental culture, public favor, and lasting honor. Stand together as 
 one man in the maintenance of right, be led by neither to espouse^ 
 the wrong. Cultivate the friendship of the orderly, the pious, the 
 'studious, the intellectual. Have no fellowship with the idle, tho 
 dissipated, the boisterous, the prodigal. Treat them politely, but 
 distantly. These are tin? characters who breed all the mischiefs in 
 Colle"'e. From such as these must have sprung up those moral 
 monstrosities of which I have been speaking. The best code of 
 morals for them is, of course, that which indulges vice and repu- 
 diates virtue. Take care of them ; the Faculty will judge you by 
 the company you keep ; and if you would avoid the trying dilemmas 
 of which I have spoken, keep away from the vicious and the lawless. 
 These are the ones who are arraigned for outbreaks, and their com- 
 panions are the witnesses, if not the accomplices. Let cards alone j 
 let intoxicating liquors alone ! If you disregard everything else 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 199 
 
 that I liiive told you, burn these seven words into your memory : 
 ' let cards (tlo7ie ; let into.ricathifj Ii'qttors alone!' Let your T9cre- 
 atlon hours, and ojili/ 1/ouT recreation Jwurs, be spent mainly in fe- 
 male society; preferring the pious and intellectual, to the light and 
 A^olatile. Write home often, and when temptations assail you, think 
 of home. Do not get in the way of neglecting your College duties; 
 remissness is the first step to degradation. You all have yeur Bibles : 
 read them often — if not from a better motive, read them for your 
 mothers' sakes. And now, bow with me in prayer to God, that He 
 incline your hearts to keep these precepts, and His own, which are 
 far better, conduct you safely to your destination, preserve you, and 
 bless you, during your sojourn at the seat of Science, and return 
 you to us, endowed with its richest treasures !" 
 
 The prayer Avas offered up, and the following morning ]\Ir. 3Iark- 
 ham bade his young friends a tearful farewell, saw them on their 
 ■w\iy to Savannah, and then turned his steps homeward. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIl. 
 
 Three days' staging placed Mr. Beach with his charge in Savan- 
 nah, and an eight days' voyage landed him in New York. He pro- 
 ceeded immediately to Newark, whence he wrote a letter to Mr. 
 Sanders, concluding as follows : "Keport our safe arrival all in good 
 health, to Mr. Markham. He told me that the boys, were raw, un- 
 travclcd youths, whom he feared would give me much trouble ; but 
 I assure hifti that they gave me no trouble at all. So far from it 
 they sought every opportunity to relieve me from trouble. They 
 seemed to contend for the pleasure of serving me. They are four of 
 the most genteel, well-behaved, clever boys I ever saw. Instead of 
 giving me trouble, they were a pleasure and delight to me all the 
 way. As they were from the Sou-th, used to be waited on, and not 
 used to work, (as I supposed,) I did expect to find them all a little 
 lazy ; but they were ready to turn their hands to anything. On board 
 ship they were all very sick, and as they had all been so kind to me, 
 I took great pleasure in waiting on them. In two or three days 
 they were all well, and ever since have been as hearty a.s bucks. 
 They arc now at my house, quite the delight of my family. To- 
 morrow and next day I shall take them over to see New York ac- 
 cording to promise, and the day after go with them to Basken Ilidf'c 
 and Princeton." 
 
 This letter of course went the rounds of the families most inter- 
 
200 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEK. ^ 
 
 ested in it, and gave unspeakable satisfactioa whithersoever it went. 
 Mr. Beach fulfilled his promise. Markham, Thompson and Brown 
 entered the Sophomore class without difficulty. It was exceedingly 
 mortifying to William to find himself under the necessity of going 
 through a preparatory course in order to enter the Freshman class, 
 when his old schoolmates were all honorably admitted into the next 
 higher class ; and he determined to make amends i'ov lost time by 
 assiduity in study. The weather and the place favored his resolu- 
 tion, at least for several months, for he was kept in-doors from the 
 cold, and there were few, if any, dissolute youths at Basken Bidge 
 to tempt him to vice. His ffrst letter to his mother spoke iu highest 
 terms of Mr. Finley and his " charming family ;" and the first letter 
 of Mr. Finley to Mrs. Mitten was not less complimentary to William. 
 At the end of five months, his teacher pronounced him fully pre- 
 pared for the Freshman class, put in his hand a very flattering cer- 
 tificate, and dispatched him to College. Instead of presenting his 
 certificate to the President, and making application for admission 
 into the Freshman class, he excogitated a brilliant scheme, not al- 
 together original, to be sure, but highly creditable to his ingenuity, 
 whereby he was to get into the Sophomore class without the needful 
 preparation for it. Thus thought our hero : '•' If I apply for the 
 Junior class, they will have too much respect for my feelings to put 
 me away down in the Freshman class, if they can possibly avoid it. 
 Even for the Junior class, they will, in all probability, examine me 
 upon those studies which I have been over, and here I shall acquit 
 myself so handsomely, that they will readily compromise matters, 
 and let me ijito the Sophomore class." Accordingly he reported 
 himself to the President with an air of gr'eat self-possession, as a 
 candidate for the Junior class. The President, after gravely taking 
 his dimensions with the eye, to the manifest terror of Master Mitten, 
 said : " The Junior Class, now more than half advanced ! How far 
 have you advanced in Latin and Greek ?" William answered. " In 
 mathematics!"' He answered again. " Have you studied Chemis- 
 try, Astronomy, Natural and Moral Philosophy and Logic?" " No, 
 sir !" "Under whom. did you prepare for College ?" " Mr. Waddel 
 and Mr. Finley." " Mr. Waddel of South Carolina and Mr. Finley 
 of Basken Ridge ?" " Yes, sir." " We have four students now ia 
 College, from Mr. Waddel's school, and ten from Mr. Finley's, all 
 of whom entered without difficulty. Did either of your preceptors 
 advise you to apply for the Junior class ?" '' No, sir, but, I thought 
 may be I eould enter that class." " Well, Master Mitten, /think, 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN: 201 
 
 ' may be ' you can enter no class in College. I will give you a trial, 
 however, for the Freshman class, if you can bring down your aspi- 
 rations that low." "Well, sir," said William, with a spirit of ac- 
 commodation truly commendable, "I'll try for that class." Here 
 William's usual bad luck attended him, for his ingenuity had ex- 
 posed him to agonizing mortification, betrayed him into a falsehood, 
 and, as he well knew, made the President's first imprcsBions of him 
 very unfavorable. 
 
 He was examined, and admitted without difficulty. The Presi-, 
 dent was curious to learn what sort of an examination he stood, and , 
 enquired of the examining Professors. "Admirable!" said they, 
 una voce. The President smiled, but said nothing. 
 
 William fallowed Mr. Markham's advice strictly through the 
 Freshman year, and for four months of the i:?ophomore year, and the 
 eonseqnence was as usual ; he stood at the head of the class. His 
 letters to his mother were in the highest degree gratifying. He 
 spoke gratefully of Mr. Markham's last counsels to him, and prom- 
 ised to obey them to the letter ; he expressed his admiration of th'C 
 Faculty, particularly of those members of it who had charge of hia 
 class, in terms bordering upon the extravagance of praise — rejoiced 
 that he had been defeated in his jtttempt to procure a clerkship ; and 
 rejoiced still more that ho now saw the error of his ways, and had 
 radically reformed. One of his epistles he concluded in this lan- 
 guage : " When I think, my dearest mother, of the trouble I have 
 given you — how I abused your goodness, and disappointed your 
 reasonable expectations, my conscience .smites mo, and my cheeks 
 burn with blu:-hes. How could I have been such an ingrate I How 
 could I have sent a pang to the bosom of the sweetest, the kii^dest, 
 the tenderest, the holiest, the best of mothers ! Well, the past is 
 gone, and with it my childish, boyish follies: they have all been for- 
 given long ago, and no more are to be forgiven in future. That I 
 am to get the first honor in my class i.s conceded by all the class 
 except four. These four were considered equal competfitors for it 
 until I entered the cla.«(s, and they do not despair yet ; but they bad 
 as well, for they equal me in nothing but Mathematics, and do not 
 excel me in that. The funds that you allow me ($500 per annum) 
 are more than sufficient to meet all my college expenses, and allow 
 me occasional pleasure rambles during the vacation. What I have 
 written about my stand in College, you will of course understand as 
 intended only for a mother's eye. 
 
 " Your truly affectionate and grateful son, 
 
 Wm. Mitten.'* 
 
202 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 William's report of himself was fully confirmed by his fellow- 
 students of the village. He wrote also an affectionate letter to 
 Doctor Waddel, thanking him for his many kindnesses, approving of 
 all his dealings with him, and censuring himself for his rejection of 
 his counsels, and disobedience to his rules. Before this letter 
 reached his old Preceptor, "William's fame and prospects in College 
 hid reached the school, where all considered themselves interested 
 in his reputation, and all rejoiced. At bis home the rejoicing was 
 more intense, and all the merchants of the place, and Mr. Sanders 
 in particular, congratulated themselves that they had olFered him 
 no encouragement to become a merchant. There was one exception, 
 to be sure, to the general rejoicing, in the person of old Stewey 
 Anderson ; and he only suspended his joy; for he offeredv " to give 
 his promissory note, payable twelve months aftex date, for double 
 joy, if Bill Mittten held on that long." 
 
 "Billy," said Stewey, "is a Belair colt; he beats everything for 
 a quarter, but he can't stand a long run, I'm afraid'; he's entered 
 now for the four mile heats, and I think he'll break down about the 
 second or third mile, sure." There was something, too, that chilled 
 the ardor of Dr. Hull's delight, though no one knew what it was. 
 But that he partook of the general feeling to some extent, M^as 
 manifest ; for he never took a chew of tobacco and grunted wheu 
 William was praised. 
 
 Up to the close of the fourth month of Master Mitten's Sopho- 
 more year, he had almost entirely neglected 'Mr. Markham'"s advice 
 touching his recreation hours ; indeed, he hardly allowed himself 
 any recreation hours : but occasional visits to a beautiful little 
 Princeton lassie, by the name of Amanda Ward, reminded him 
 forcibly of his remissness in this particular, and he'resolved forth- 
 with to amend his ways. Miss Amanda was not pious, but she was 
 sprightly, witty and graceful; and for her age (for she had hardly 
 " entered her teens,") she was not wanting in intellectual culture. 
 William's interest in her increasetl with every visit to her,' and his 
 " recreation hours" began to increase with his interest. The neces- 
 sary consequenee was, that his i^ludi/ hours became more arduous. 
 Still he maintained his reputation and his place in his class, with 
 only a hardly perceptible change, in the promptness and fluency 
 with whicbhe disposed of his recitations. Soon -after his first visit 
 to Miss Amanda, AVilliam's talents were made kuown to her, as well 
 as his fortune, which was represented to be something under the 
 square of what it really was. She was quite too young and too ro- 
 
MASTER WILIJAM :\[ITTEN. 203 
 
 mantic to have anything venal in her composition, and, as his hand- 
 some person, brilliant talents and interesting conversation began to 
 win wpon her afiectious, she became touchingly pensive. By as 
 much as she lost her vivacity, by so much did William's interest in 
 her increase. He loved her before, and now he sympathized witli 
 her deeply and tenderly. It was a floating sympathy, to be sure, 
 seeking, like Noah's dove, a resting place and finding none; bufit 
 was none the less sincere on that account, and none the less appre- 
 ciated by the lovely object over which it hovered, and diffused its 
 grateful incense. Often from the gloom which overshadowed the 
 dear Amanda, would she scud forth _^mcllow twinklings, like those 
 which sport upon the bosom of an evening cloud, and which would 
 irradiate the countenance of her anxious friend for a nioment; but 
 he could not persuade her to reveal the cause of her depression. 
 
 Under the combined force of love, syinpath}-, anxiety and sus- 
 pense, William's spirits I'or.-ook hiui, he became sad and gloomy, and 
 study became irksome to him. l.atc sittings Avith Miss Amanda, 
 and then much later sittings to malce up the lost time, began to 
 make inroads upon William's health, and all h'w fair prospects would 
 probably have Ix'cn bliglited before the close of the term, had he 
 not determined to act upon conjecture as to Miss Ward's anguish of 
 mind. He judged, not without good reason, that it proceeded from 
 love to him, and that she was wasting away under the consuming 
 passion, because pho supposed that it was not reciprocated. He re- 
 solved, therefore, with becoming frankness to unbosom himself to 
 her and offer her his hand. According)}', at their next interview, 
 he thus addressed her : 
 
 ''Miss Ward, you know that I am not blind to your despondency, 
 and, by a thousand proofs, you know that I am not indifferent to it. 
 Believe me, that my oft repeated enquiries into the cause of it were 
 prompted by a purer and holier motive than mere idle curiosity. No, 
 Miss Ward, that heart which is not touched with the grier>'. of the 
 gentler sex, must be insousible indeed ; such an one, I am sure.was 
 never reared in the genial clinic of the sunny South. He who could 
 obtrude a selfish curiosity into the liallowed sanctuary of woman's 
 sorrows, never breathed the bahny zephyrs which waft the cdors of 
 the magnolia and the oratigc. 'Twos sympathy, Miss AVard, which 
 prompted my questions — an honest desire to share your griefs, if I 
 could not relieve them. Your geneioua nature will appreciate my 
 motives, and pardon one more question — the last, if an'^werod nega- 
 tively : Am 1 in any way, directly or indirectly, connected with your 
 mental perturbations ?" 
 
204 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. " 
 
 Torrents of tears from the eyes of the fair Amanda relieved lier 
 gallant suitor's suspense, while she struggles for utterance with her 
 irrepressible emotions. At length she spoke: 
 
 "Mister Mitten, your noble nature assures me that I may trust the 
 dearest secret of my heart to you, without fear that you will erer 
 betray the trust, under any changes of feeling, time or place. I 
 frankly own that I am and have hng been most ardently attached to 
 
 you 1 have sometimes thought — hoped — that our attachment waa 
 
 mutual. Yet, why did I hope it ? when I knew that we never could 
 be united ?" 
 
 " Knew that we could never bo united, my dearest Amanda?" 
 "Never, never, never!" exclaimed Amanda, burying her face in 
 her handkerchief, and sobbing convulsively. 
 
 " Then I am doomed to wretchedness for life !" ejaculated Mister 
 
 Mitten. " Amanda, you are my first love ^" 
 
 " And you are mine, William. My first, my last, my only love. 
 When you return to the land of birds and of flowers, object of my 
 adoration, ,seod back a thought to your poor, unfortunate, heart-brokcQ 
 Amanda !" 
 
 " Amanda," said William, in tears, " you said you would entrust 
 the dearest secret of your heart to me : tell me then what insuper- 
 able obstacle there is to our union ?" 
 
 " I never violate my promise, dearest William, I am told that you 
 are very, very rich;, and never can I consent to mtirry a man with 
 whom I cannot be upon an equality, — a man who must ever feel that 
 he stooped to take his partner's hand ; and who may suppose that 
 the poor trash of earth, called wealth, had some influence upon her 
 choice. 1 should be the most miserable wretch upon earth, to dis- 
 cover in the being I adore, anything going to show that ho consider- 
 ed me his inferior, or capable of loving him for anything but him- 
 self." 
 
 '* These noble sentiments," responded Mister Mitten, "exalt you 
 higher, if possible, in my estimation, than ever. Know, then, thou 
 
 sweetest, purest, noblest of thy sex, that I am not rich " 
 
 " Not rich ! Don't trifle with my feelings, William !" 
 " I assure you, upon the honor of a gentleman, that I am worth 
 nothing. My mother owns a very pretty estate, which, when divid- 
 ed between her three children, will only give a comfortable living to 
 each of them." 
 
 " Oh, happiest moment of my life !" exclaimed Amanda. " Wil- 
 liam, there is my hand, and' with it a heart that idolizes you, if you 
 choose to take them." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 205 
 
 " I receive them," said William, " and es^hange for them a hand 
 and heart equally 'frarm and unwavering." 
 
 Their vows were plighted, and they separated in eestacies. 
 Fortunately for William this interview occurred on Friday night ; 
 or it would have played the mischief with his next day's recitation. 
 
 The next day William visited Miss Amanda to arrange for the 
 nuptials ; and however indiscreet and rash we may consider the en- 
 gagement, everybody must accord to them the highest prudence in 
 settling the preliminaries of the nuptials. 
 
 The arrangement was that MIstrr Mitten (so we must now call him, 
 as he is engaged to be married) should go on and complete his edu- 
 cation, return to Georgia and spend two or three months with his 
 family, then go to Litchfield, Connecticut, and attend Judge Reeves' 
 Law Lectures for one year, revisit Georgia,^ get admitted to the bar 
 as soon as possible, return to Princeton, and consummate the marriage. . 
 Could old Parr himself, and a lady his equal in years, have ordered 
 things more wisely ! As soon as matters were thus happily arranged, 
 Mr. Mitten said : 
 
 "I have reflected a great deal, my Amanda, upon matrimonial en- 
 gagements, and I have brought my miud to the conclusion long ago, 
 that there is a radical error in regard to them, too common -in the 
 world. Let us reform it — at least as far as we can. I allude to the 
 secrecy with which such engagements are kept by the parties to 
 
 them " 
 
 Miss Amanda started " Why, if the parties are sincere and 
 
 mean to be constant to each other, should they object to the world's 
 knowing of their engagement y Were it generally known how few 
 matches would be broken off I. What man of honor would pay his ad- 
 dresses to a lady whom he knew to be pledged to another I What wo- 
 man of honor would receive the addres.scs of a man whom she k!new 
 to be engaged ! For my part, I shall make no secret of our engage- 
 ment, and then if any man dare to pay you particular attentions, I 
 
 shall hold him "personally responsible " 
 
 "Oh, William, my dearest William, do not think of .><uch a thing ! 
 Our engagement must not be breathed to a human being — not even 
 to father, mother, sister or brother. If our parents knew of it, they 
 
 would certainly break it off if they could, on the ground of our age 
 
 Break it off! No, that can never be. Sooner will the moon cease 
 to shed her placid beams upon the earth, sooner will this heart cease to 
 beat, than your Amanda forget her vows, or bumnii power make her 
 break them. But think of the troubles that may follow the disclosure I 
 
206 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 Oh, William, I cannot bear a frown, I cannot bear even a cold look 
 from m_v dear, sweet parents ; and how would it rend my heart to see 
 them frown on you or receive you distantly " 
 
 " And does Miss Ward suppose that her parcuts would objeGt to 
 our alliance? " 
 
 '< No, no, William : I'm sure they will be delighted with it, at the 
 proper time j but think how young we are ! I have heard my fath- 
 er say that the man who has grown daiighters in Princeton occupies 
 a very delicate position. To forbid them to receive the visits of stu- 
 dents, would be to forbid them from receiving in the main, the very 
 best society that they could have, and to violate the laws of hospitali- 
 ty ; but to encourage students in making love to their daughters, 
 was injustice to the students, and treason to their distant parents. 
 Now, if he knew that we yere engaged, he would be almost -certain 
 to send me away to some boarding school — and what pain would that 
 give us ! And suppose another should address me ; does my Wil- 
 liam think that there is another in this wide world who can make the 
 least impression on his Amanda's heart? Can you doubt your Aman- 
 da's constancy ? Can you fear that anything on earth could chill 
 her first, her only love, in a few short years ? No, William, whether 
 you remain true or false, never, never, can I love another. The very 
 thought iJtartles me like an electric shock. The keenest pang I ever 
 felt, was at hearing ray mother say that my father was not her first 
 love — I ought not to have mentioned it — I have never breathed it to 
 
 another; but to you I may entrust it, for we are soon to be one 
 
 From you I can conceal nothimr. But what agony did the disclo- 
 sure give me you'll never mention it, William ?" 
 
 " Never, Amanda." 
 
 ''I felt for days, weeks and months, as if I were an orphan. Oh,, 
 how rny heart sympathized with my dear, sweet father! He knew 
 it when he married mother. They live happily together. But it 
 seems to me, the cruel, bitter thought must sometimes present itself, 
 ' tliis heart was once another's — this heart was not always mine,' and 
 oh, what pain it must give ! And what is married life, if there be 
 anything in it to interrupt, even for a moment, the constant stream 
 of heavenly bliss which it promises to hearts united in the silken 
 cords of pure, ecstatic, first-born love ! There, William, you are en- 
 trusted with every secret of my heart." ' ^ ^ 
 
 Mr. Mitten was so charmed with Miss Amanda's sentiments, and 
 enraptured with her eloquence, that he entirely forgot the text. He 
 soon recovered it, however, and after thanking Miss Ward for her 
 confidence, and promising to keep it saered, he said : 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. i07 
 
 "Under all thb peculiar circuiustances of the case, my Amanda, I 
 •will consent to keep oui* engagement a secret; but, as a general rule, 
 I think there should be no secrecy in such mutters." 
 
 Mr. Mitten's mind being now disburdened, he resumed his studies 
 with alacrity, and maintained his place to the elo^c of the Sopho- 
 more year. The vacation ensued, and the first five weeks of it Mr. 
 Mitten devoted to Miss Amanda. He took her out almost daily on 
 pleasure-rides, lavished presents upon her, of the most costly jewelry, 
 books, engravings, and love-tokens innumerable ; and strange to tell. 
 Miss Amanda received them without rebuking this ill-advised waste 
 of his humble patrimony. Nor was Mr. Mitten less attentive to the 
 decoration of his own person, than of Miss Amanda's. He laid in a 
 profusion of coats, vests, pants, gloves, stockings, boots, shoes, pumps 
 and under garments, all at the highest ^iriccs, and in the most fash- 
 ionable style. To his y.ther 'purchases he added an elegant watch, 
 chain, seals and key, and a handsome diamond breast pin. ■ i\Iany of 
 these things were' purchased upon a short credit, to bo paid for as 
 soon as he could gee remittances from home. With all his aceom- 
 plishmedts there was one wanting to make him pertect in Miss 
 Amanda's eye, and that was, " the poetry of motion." Herein Miss - 
 Amanda excelled, and she urged him to put himself under Monsieur 
 Coupee, to add this to his many graces. She said that she was very 
 fond of cotillon parties, but that they liad lost all interest to her since 
 she learned that he did not dance, lie took her advice. As "the 
 poetry of motion," cotillon measure, consists entirely of anaptcstsand 
 dactyls, performed with alternate I'ect, Mr. Mitten soon mastered this 
 acoomplislMfcCnt. Thus went oil' the first month and a quarter of the 
 vacation. 
 
 rWith all his expenditures he had taken care to reserve money 
 enough, as ho supposed, to spend a few days in Morristown, a week 
 in Newark, aud a week in New York, without exhausting his funds. 
 At the commencement of his sixth week, of the vacation, lie set out 
 for Morristown. Here lived a class-mate of his, who insisted ifpon 
 his spending a week with him. Mitten consented. A round of par- 
 ties ensued, all of which he attended, and at all of which he played 
 havoc with the hearts of tho girls of Morristown. From his class- 
 mate th6 report soou spread through the village, that he was the 
 first scholar in his class, and immensely rich. These things conspir- 
 ing with his fine person, graceful manners, and agreeable conversa- 
 tion, made him absolutely .irresistible.. Now there happened to be 
 in Morristown at this time, a young lady from South Carolina, of the 
 
208^ MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 Bethlehem School, who was spending her .vacation with a relative of 
 the village, or rather making Morristown her headquarters for the 
 vacation. Her name was Louisa Green, she was behind Miss Ward 
 in nothing, and one hundred thousand dollars ahead of her in point 
 of fortune. Miss Green and Mr. Mitten being both from the South, 
 naturally formed a strong partiality for each other ; of course it did 
 not amount to love on William's part, but it amounted to love palpably, 
 on Louisa's part. As she was from the South, William felt himself 
 bound to pay her particular attentions. Accordingly he did all that 
 he could to make her time pass agreeably during his stay in Morris- 
 town. He could but observe the tokens of her favor, and they awak- 
 ened in hira a tender compassion. She had appointed to visit a 
 school-mate in Elizabethtown, five days after the .time when he was 
 to leave for Newark. He offered to wait and accompany her. This 
 threw him five days longer on his friend's hospitality, ihan he con- 
 tracted for, but he was welcome. She accepted his oiler thankfully. 
 They went — he was introduced to her young friend, who prevailed 
 upon him to spend two or three days in Elizabethtown. He con- 
 sented — parties commenced on the second day after his arrival, and ' 
 «vere kept up with but short intervals for nine days. The scenes of 
 Morristown were renewed. He had set every day for the last six, 
 for leaving Elizabethtown, but something or other always delayed his 
 departure. The school-mates of Elizabethtown planned a visit to a 
 third, in New York, for a few days. As this jumped with William's 
 plans exactly, and promised to make his visit to New York pleasura- 
 ble infinitely beyond his anticipations, he proposed to accompany 
 the young ladies. They accepted his proposition with plelfeure. It 
 required three days to prepare the young ladies for their contempla- 
 ted trip, and these embraced the opening of the college term. Time 
 had run off" so merrily that he had not kept count of it, and he was 
 thunderstruck when a question put to him about the college, remind- 
 ed him that the term opened on the day before he was to leave with 
 his fair companions for New York. What was he to do ? Violate 
 his pledge to the young ladies ? That would never do. 
 
 He determined to conduct them to New York, and hasten on to 
 College. When he came to settle up his bills in Elizabethtown, he 
 was thunderstruck again ; they were four times as large as he antici- 
 pated, and in counting up his cash, he found that he had barely 
 enough left to take him to New York and back to Princeton. The 
 ladiej were delayed a day beyosd the appointed time by some acci- 
 dent. Mr. Mitten was in torments. It was certain that his funds 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTKN. 209 
 
 would give*out before he reached Princeton; and here in aland of 
 strangers, what was he to do? In this emergency, it had just occur- 
 red to him that he had been very remiss in not paying his respects to 
 Mr. Beach, and he concluded to spend a part of the spare day with 
 this kind friend. Mr. ]icach hardly knew him when he presented 
 himself at his door, so changed was he in every thing. After a vis- 
 it of an hour, " Mr. Beach," said William, " I have been out spend- 
 ing the vacation, and my expenses have been so much heavier than I 
 expected, that I have got out of money ; could you favor me so far 
 as to loan me thirty dollars, and I will give you an order on Mr. San- 
 ders for the amount, or I will send it to you as soon as I get back to 
 coUejlB." "Certainly, William," said Mr. Beach, *' I will take the 
 order, and if you pay it when you get to college, I will send it to 
 you. The money was loaned, and William returned to Elizabeth- 
 town rejoicing. On their way to New York ho suggested to Miss 
 Green that the college term, had opened and that on the day after 
 their arrival in New York, he would be compelled to return to col- 
 lege. She expressed her regrets that they must part, probably never 
 to meet again, but hoped that they would renew their acquaintance, 
 after their return home. William proposed ».friendli/ correspondence 
 ad inter an. She said she could- not promise that, as the pupils of 
 her school were forbidden to correspond with young gentlemen ; but 
 y he chose to write to her she had no objections. On their arrival 
 in New York, the news greeted them, that on the evening of the 
 next day two of the greatest tragedians of the age were to appear in 
 the principal parts of Shakspeare's Othello. William had never 
 seen a play acted by professed performers, and "as he had overstayed 
 his time any how, and one day more could not make much diflerence," 
 he determined to prolong his visit that far, and take the ladies to the 
 theatre. He procured tickets for the three young ladies, but as the 
 father of the one whom the others were visiting, chose to accompany 
 them all to the theatre, and furnish tickets himself, W^Uliam had two 
 on hand either to use or throw away at hi.** option. He was transport- 
 ed with the performance, Hamlet was announced for the next night ; 
 but as the ladies declined going to the theatre two nights in succes- 
 sion, he went alone. Macbeth was announced for the next night; 
 and as all the girls must see .this play, they went as before ; W^illiam 
 acconipanying. The day following he left for Princeton, and reach- 
 ed there with ju«t seventy-tivo cents in his pocket. 
 
 His class-mate of Morristown {Jolimon bj^ name) brought down 
 his history to his departure from that village. " He went oiF," said 
 
210 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 Johnson, "after a beautiful accomplished South Carolina heiress, 
 worth a cool hundred thousand in cash, with hinhy-lieads according; 
 and he has only to stretch out his hand to her and she'll snatch at it; 
 for everybody sees that she is over head and ears in love with him, 
 as indeed all the girls in Morristown are ; for Bill is death among the 
 pullets." This report mitigated the anxiety of his Georgian compan- 
 ions concerning hiui, but did jaot entirely relieve them ; for they 
 feared the consequences of William's change of habits, not only upon 
 his stand in College, but upon hisfuture life. 
 
 We have said that he had four competitors for the lirst honor, 
 but there was only one of them that he had cause to dread, for 
 though the five were equal in mathematics, there was but orie'who 
 approached him in the other studies. This one was Taliaferro (pro- 
 nounced Tpliver) of Virginia. When at the opening of the term, 
 the class appeared to recite in mathematics, and Taliaferro found 
 Mitten absent, his countenance kinclled with' delight. Ilis delight 
 increased with every recitation in this study, until it came to the 
 fifth. As he retired from this he said triumphantl}', '' I've got him 
 safe — I've got this brilliant young Georgian just as the owl had the 
 hen, so that he^'can neither back nor squall. With his head full of 
 girls and fortune, if ever he keep^ up with the class, and makes up 
 ■five lost lessons, he is a smarter man than I think he is, and I think 
 he is the smartest I ever saw." Taliaferro thus spoke because ne 
 well knew that a lost recitation in mathematics is almost as fatal to 
 farther progress in the science,- as the loss of one of the nine digits 
 would be to enumeration. And yet if AYilliam had determined to 
 do it, he could have made up his deficiencies before the end of the 
 Junior year, and thrown Taliaferro far in his rear in the Senior year. 
 Why he did not,* we shall see. When called to account for his ab- 
 sences he said " hf was necesi^arilij detained." 
 
 Having followed Mitten's movements during the vacation, let us 
 now unveil some of his thoughts and reflections accompanying these 
 movements. " Here it is now," mused he on the fifth day of his 
 acquaintance with Miss Green. "If Amanda had not made me 
 promise to keep our engagement secret, I could now tell Louisa of it, 
 and let her understand the true ground of my attentions to her ; but 
 as it is, I must cither be distant to her — which would be unpardon- 
 able in me as she is from the South — or I must encourage her at- 
 tachment which is plainly visible and growing. Amanda will hear 
 of my attentions through Johnson, and suppose I am after Louisa's 
 fortune. No, dear girl, -fortune shall never make me sacrifice my 
 word and my honor." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 211 
 
 On the seventh day : " It was very indiscreet in Amanda to exact 
 tliat promise from me, I don't know bow to act under it." 
 
 Ninth day : " Hang that silly promise I I'll keep it, but I fear I 
 shall never feel towards Amanda as 1 should have felt if she had not 
 extorted it from me. I was too liasty in making il — in fact I was 
 too hasty in the whole matter. Well, whatever may come of it, I shall 
 not forego duty to a Southern friend, far from home, because I hap- 
 pen to be engaged." 
 
 On the day he visited Mr. Beach : " What a botheration it is to 
 want money — I doubt whether Amanda will over be satislied to live 
 in Georgia. I wish she was not quite so romantic. It was very im- 
 prudent in her to speak of her father and mother as .she did to me — 
 I don't believe one can love truly but once ; I believe I could love 
 Louisa just as- ardently as I love her, if I would allow myself to do 
 so. 
 
 On the day he left Nov.' Yorlv : " One hundred thousand dollars ! 
 I wish I had fifty of it now. What a sum it is I Enough to last a 
 man's life time, and satisfy every desire of his heart. One hundred 
 thousand dollars, and a beautiful intelligent lovely Southern girl 
 to bodt ! Amanda ought to adore me for resisting such a temptation 
 for her sake." 
 
 On reaching Princeton, he went immediately to see Amanda and 
 found her in 'deep distress. She said "she had been meditating 
 suicide, but she could not leave the world without one more last, 
 longing, lingering look upon her William." Upon his assuring her, 
 however, that he was not engaged to iMiss Green, that he had not 
 proposed himself to her, and that lie would have informed her of 
 his engagement, if he had not been forbidden to do so, Miss Aman- 
 da was greatly comforted, insomuch that bhe concluded to postpone 
 the suicide to a more suitable sfiason. She entertained him with a 
 melting narrative of her soliloquies and tears over breastpins, lockets 
 and the like, which, as it came just at the time when he was terribly 
 pinched for money, produced a double sympathy — or rather an oscil- 
 lating sympathy, which played so equally bet weeu himself and Miss 
 Amanda, that she could not utiderstand it, and took it for coldness. 
 They parted, however, with renewed profes.sions of love. 
 
 Markham, Thompson and Brown, had together paid a short visit 
 to Philadelphia, Trenton and Monmouth, early in the vacation, and 
 
 ♦At this tirao Jersey bank billa were juat as current in Georgia aa gold and 
 silver. 
 
 The first one dollar bill that ever wa.s seen in Georgia was from a Jeraoy 
 bank. 
 
212 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 returned to Princeton. On their return, Brown enclosed a fifty dol- 
 lar bill* in a letter to Mr. Markham, saying : "I have saved this 
 much out of my allovrance without stinting myself in the le^t. If 
 you think it would not be wrong to appropriate it to ray mother's 
 necessities, please deal it cut to her as she, needs. Apply all of it 
 but what is absolutely necessary to keep my mother above want, to 
 the schooling of my two little sisters. But if you think that I have 
 no right to use the money in this way, please return it to the kind 
 gentlemen who raised it for me ; and tell them that it is more than 
 I need, and I think in justice it ought to be returned to them." "We 
 need hardly say that this letter made John's patrons feel uiuch more 
 like doubling than reducing their contributions to him. 
 
 From New V^ork William had written a letter to his mother, set-- 
 ting forth that he had greatly miscalculated, in saying that five, hun- 
 dred dollars per annum would be amply sufficient to pay his College 
 expenses. Traveling expenses, he said, far exceeded his expecta- 
 tions — that he had set out from Princeton on a vacation ramble, with 
 money enough in hand, he thought, to pay his expenses three times 
 over, and after visiting only three places, he was in New York with 
 hardly money enough to pay his reckoning, and get him back to 
 Princeton ; and there his board and tuition would have to be paid 
 in advance. lie concluded by begging her to send him on tvro hun- 
 dred dollars as speedily as possible. Here was the very place for 
 him to have informed his mother that he 'had borrowed money from 
 Mr. Beach, and to have informed Mr. Sanders through her, how he 
 came to draw on him.. But he knew that it would mortify his moth- 
 er exceedingly, to leara that he was repaying Mr. Beach's kindness 
 by taxing his purse; and he intended to stop the draft from going 
 to the drawee, by payment of it. Brown's letter had a fortnight or 
 more the start of William's, and its contents were known to every- 
 body in the village in three days after it had reached Mr. Markham. 
 When William's letter therefore reached home, it alarmed and dis- 
 tressed his mother exceedingly. She gathered the money as soon 
 as shft possibly could, (borrowing a part of it) and dispatched it to 
 William, with a letter eloquently expressive of her feelings. " How 
 is it, my dear boy," said she, " that John Brown, with his limited 
 resources, can visit Philadelphia, Treuton and Monmouth, and yet 
 send hither fifty dollars out of his income, to assist his poor mother, 
 and school his little sisters; and you cannot visit as many places 
 without exhausting your funds and requiring two hundred dollars 
 over?" The whole letter would fill every reader's eyes with tears; 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 213 
 
 • 
 but we have uot time and space for it here. By the ghortest pos- 
 sible course of mail, William could not ri'ccive an answer to his let- 
 ter in less than a month tro»» its date. In the meantime he must be 
 shut out of College, if he could not rai.'-e the tuition fees at least. 
 His only course was to borrow, lie went to his cousin David, who 
 loaned him fifteen dollars, all " he had over," as the merchants suy. 
 He went to Markham, and be loaned him twenty, saying " this is all 
 I have, but go to Brown, I know he has over fifty dollars, for we 
 compared notes when we got back to College. "' He went to Browu 
 and asked the loan of fifteen dollars. " William," said Brown, " I 
 would loan it to you with a great deal of pleasure, but Fhave it not 
 — here are three dollars, ail I've got, whieh-you are welcome to, if it 
 will be of any service to you." William loqked on him furiously and 
 said — " Brown, if I don't raise fifteen dollars, I can't get back into 
 College, and I know you have that much, and three times that 
 much." " William, I give you my word md honor I have but three 
 dollars iu the world. How can you i-uppt.se that I would not loan it 
 to you if I had it? If there's anythiyr; I have, by sale of which 
 you can raise the amount, go take it and sell it, with, all my heart 
 
 William wheeled off in a rage,, and hastened to Thompson and 
 Markham, faying " Who. could believe it possible, that John Brown 
 would see me shut out of college, rather tUan loan mc fifteen dollars! 
 
 He says he has but three dollars in the xorld " "■ John Brown 
 
 says so !" exclaimed the two. '• Come," said Thompson, " let's go 
 and bring him face to face." 
 
 Away they went and Brown seeing them coming turned pale as a 
 sheet. "Look at his countenahce," wliis^ered William. "John 
 Brown," said Thompson, '• did you tell cousin William that you hadn't 
 fifteen dollars in the world ?" 
 
 '* Yes, and I told him the truth " 
 
 "Didn't you tell George Markham and my.self that you brought 
 hack from your travels money enough to j ly tuition and board, and 
 leave you over fifty dollars in hand ?" 
 
 " Yes ! did ; but I have di.'poscd of fifty dollars of it." 
 
 '* liow did you dispose of ic 1" 
 
 " I do not wish to tell, but in a way tliat all of you would approve 
 off if I were to tell you— indeed I do not know myself as yet, how it 
 went " 
 
 '< Did you ever hear such ehat," said William, "from anybody but 
 
214 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN". 
 
 an idiot since you 4ere boru ! Disposed of it as we all would ap- 
 prove, and does'nt know himself how he disposed of it !" 
 
 The bojs wheeled ofi" indignantly. * 
 
 "Stop, boys," said Brown, with streaming eyes, "and I will ex-, 
 plain " 
 
 " We want no explanations, sir/' said William. " Dig a mole out 
 of the dirt and stick him on a steeple, and he'll be a mole still." 
 
 No pen can describe John's agony. He saw himself deserted 
 by the sons of his benefactors — he knew that they all believed that 
 he had lied; and he knew that before the morrow s sun, it would be 
 trumpeted all through the College that the bright Mitten was kept 
 from his class by his meanness. In the midst of his horrors, the 
 bell summoned him to recitation. The class was arranged alphabet!-, 
 cally, and his name was the first on the list. The Professor called 
 on him; he rose tried to suppress his emotions, but could not; and 
 he resumed his seat, his bosom heaving, and his- eyes streaming as 
 though his heart would break. The class stood aghast, and the 
 Professor looked sad; for J3rown had not been remiss in a single 
 College duty. Keen as was his anguish, it would have been aggra- 
 vated heavily, but for George JIarkham's prudence. 
 
 "Boys" said he, "it isn't worth, while to spread this thing 
 through the College — at least let us wait awhile before we do it. Ke- 
 member that he is a Georgian, has been our intimate friend, and it 
 wiU'be flung up to as upon all occasions. And after all, I never 
 kneVr John Brown to tell a lie in my life, and he may be enabled to 
 explain the matter." ' 
 
 After some debate they agreed to keep the matter to themselves. 
 That very day John received tidings of liis fiither's death, and as no 
 body thought of enquiring as to the precise time when he received 
 the intelligence, it was regarded by the class as the cause of his 
 emotion in the recitation room, and by his three friends as an addi- 
 tional inducement to deal tenderly with him. Thompson borrowed 
 the fifteen dollars for William, and he joined his class. 
 
 Tbus stood matters when Mrs. Mitten's letter was received. As 
 soon as William read it, he hastened to Thompson and Markham'g 
 room with it, handed it to his cousin, flung himself into a seat, 
 dropped his forehead, hands-covered on his knees, and wept bitterly. 
 Thompson read it, and passed it in sobs to Markham. He was not so 
 much aftected, and spoke first : 
 
 " The Lord be praised that we kept our notions of John's conduct 
 from the college. Why this, and our coldness, and his father's death 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITl'EN. 215 
 
 all coming upon liiin at ouce, would have killed the poor fellow. He's 
 almost heart-broken, any-how. What a warning is this to us against 
 acting hastily in such nmtterg ! Let ua send for him, and relieve 
 both him and ourselves immediately.'' He was sent for, and as soon 
 as ho entered the room, they all rushed to him and embraced him 
 together. "Oh, John," continued Markham, "we know what you 
 did with your fifty dollar.^, and we are all ashamed of ourselves." 
 
 f John," said William, '• I beg your pardon ten thousand times — " 
 
 " And I." 
 
 "And I." 
 
 "John," said William," "how could you say, you didn't know as 
 yet how your money went?" 
 
 " iiecause I didn't know that it would be right in me to take mon- 
 ey raispd for my education, and apply it to the use of my motherand 
 sisters ; so I sent it to Mr. Markham and told him, if he thought I 
 had no right to u?e it in this way, to return it to the gentlemen who 
 raised it for me, and T don't know which way it went, even now, for 
 Mr. Markham said nothing to me about it in the? letter reporting my 
 father's death." 
 
 " John," continued William, " I never shall forgive myself for my 
 treatment of yon. 1 had souie apology for suspecting you of insin- 
 cerity, but I had none for that vile, unfeeling, brutal remark of 
 mine — " 
 
 " What remark, William V 
 
 "About the molo." . 
 
 "I didn't hear that." 
 
 " You didn't ! Thank heaven, that you did not, but it's none the 
 less mean on that account." 
 
 William paid the sums borrowed and his board ; and now the mer- 
 chants, tailors, shoe-makers and jewelers began to press him. They 
 always press at the opening and close of terms, because students are 
 then commonly full-handed; but they had other reasons for pressing 
 in this instance. The balance of his two hundred dollars, save fif- 
 teen reserved went in less than a fortnight, without paying more than 
 fifty cents on the dollar of his debts. Youth-like, he thought more 
 of the annoyances of creditors than of their respective claims upon 
 his honor, and Mr. IJeach was postponed to the most ravenous. Some 
 of these, all of whom understand well the art of milking students, 
 said " that they were not in the habit of crediting students, but that 
 everybody represented Mr. Mitten as such a brilliant, high-minded, 
 rich and honorable young man, that they would have trusted him for 
 
216 if ASTER WILLDLif MlTTEM". 
 
 half their goods." Others .said, " that relying certainly upon pay- 
 ment at this time, they had contracted dehts on the faith of it, and 
 if disappointed, they did not know what was to become of them." 
 Another said, "If Mr. Mitton couldn't pay him all, he would be very 
 glad to get half the amount due, to keep his wife and children from 
 suffering." Thus they went on wHh every variety of experiment 
 upon his feolin-gs, until he began to think that his own character^ the 
 character of the South, and all Priuceton, were likely to sink tog(;th- 
 er in one common grave of indiscriminate ruin. Most of Mr. Mit- 
 ten's debts had been contracted within the past three mouths, and 
 many of the students, well posted in such matters, testified with be- 
 coming indignation, that such a thing v.'as unheard of in the history 
 of Princeton, as dunning students for debts but three months old; 
 and two or three proposed, in vindication of the time-honored usages 
 of the place,' to stone the windows of the importunate creditors ; but 
 Mr. Mitten, partly from the lights of Mr. M«rkham's counsels, and 
 partly from his own good sense, opposed all violent measures, as he 
 could not see how tfiese would sustain his credit or cancel his debts^ 
 But there were two specialties, which hurried the creditors ; the one 
 was, that Mr. Mitten had promised to pay them at the opening of the 
 term, and the other was, that Miss Amanda, either from love of truth, 
 or the truth of love, had corrected the popular opinion of Mr. Mit- 
 ten's vast wealth, and represented him, upon his own authority, as 
 not only not very rich, but veri/ poor. The torments of creditors 
 abated considerably the rapture with which Mr. ^litten was wont to 
 view the ornaments of ^liss Ward's person, interfered with his stud- 
 ies, and set his thoughts to running upon filthy lucre. He commenc- 
 ed his friendly correspondence with Miss Green. His first letter was 
 exceedingly friendly. He waited the proper time for an answer, but 
 received none. He wrote another, still more friendly, but received no 
 answer. He wrote another in the very agony of friendship. To this 
 he received the following answer: 
 
 '* All yo*ur letters have been received. They have given the Prin- 
 cipal of the School great uneasiness, and me great delight. He 
 knows only whence they come — know you whether they have gonej 
 into the most hallowed chamber of my heart. Mail your letters 
 anywhere, but at Princeton; my answers will be returned through a 
 confidante in Morristown. Your Louisa." 
 
 Thenceforward Mr. Mitten could hardly do anything but write let- 
 ters. The two friends soon became so much attached to eac|? other, 
 that they interchanged pledges of perpetual union. The " hundred 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 2l7 
 
 thousand dollars" were no\r safe, and collocre honors sank to insigni- 
 ftcance in the estimation of Mr. Mitten. IIo studied only to gradu- 
 ate, and in the short space of four months, dropped from the head 
 below the middle of his class. The "hundred thousand" were a 
 good way off, and his demands for money were immediate and press- 
 in"'. To meet the exijjeneies of the time present, he concluded to 
 try his slsill at cards with the " Regular Panel" of Princeton. He 
 was very successful, but still he forgot Mr. Beach. The club, of 
 course, had refreshments, to counteract the effect of sedentary habits 
 and constant watchings. They met at Mr. Mitten's room, and as he 
 had been very succes.sful, he was very liberal in his supplies of good 
 cheer. The young gentlemen enjoyed themselves cjuictly until 
 about one o'clock A. IM., when they became rather troublesome to a 
 Professor in an adjoining dormitory. The Trofessor rose, dressed 
 himself, and went to Mitten's room door — listened awhile and knock- 
 ed. " Walk in," said Mitteti. The I'rofessor attempted to open the 
 deor, but it was locked. A shuffling of feet, a moving of chairs, a 
 rattling of«glasses were heard, and the door was opened. The Pro- 
 fessor stepped in, found a table pet out in the middle of the room, 
 with two candles on it, burnt down nearly to the socket — two fellows 
 on Mitten'.s bed with all their clothes on, fast aslerp — two more in 
 his room-mate's bed, covered over with a counterpane, except as to 
 the heel of one boot — another just undressins: to "ro to bed under 
 same counterpane (at least he was near that bed) — another seated at 
 the table studying the (Jreck Lexicon — while Mr. Mitten, whq open- 
 ed the door, was pacing the room in manifest indignation. Though 
 Dot exactly intoxicated, he had stimulated his nervous pystem up to 
 nn unwonted degree of in<lcpendence — while the J'rofessor was very 
 coolly making his observations, (for he was a man of nerve.) " Well, 
 sir," said Mitten, " I hope you have nosed about a dormitory in which 
 you have no business, to your satisfaction." (Iferc one of the .'^leep- 
 ers, whose face wa.s to lighti*, turned abruptly over with a sleepy 
 snort : and the Greek etudent saw a funny word in tho Lexicon at 
 which he gave a little chuckle. "Not quite," said the I'rofessor, 
 calmly. • 
 
 "Well, sir," continued Mitten, "I think T can convince the Fac- 
 ulty,. and if not the Faculty, thcTroRtoes, that you have no right to 
 be poking about anoth^-r Professor's doruiitor}' of nighta." 
 " May-be so," said tho Professor coollv, still '''poking about." 
 This wa-s the Professor of Mathematics, who had repoatodlv pro- 
 voked Mr. Mitten, by pressing q)iestion8 upon him at recitation which 
 he could not answer. This is considered very impolite in all Colleges. 
 
218 MASTER WILLIAJt MITTEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Alas ! for the instability of human happiness ! Just before the 
 liital vacation of which we have spoken, Mrs. Mitten was as happy 
 as she could be on this earth. Her two daughters had married mea 
 of worth, position and fortune, and were comfortably settled in 
 counties adjoining that in which she resided. Her son, already dis- 
 tinguished, was on the high road to preferment, and her mind was at 
 pe^ce with her Maker and the world. What changes a few months 
 more wrought in her destiny ! p 
 
 The events with which we concluded the last chapter, occurred on 
 Friday night, running into Saturday morning. On Monday morning 
 the Faculty met and Mr. Mitten was sumtiloiied before them. 
 
 " Mitten," said the President, "you are charged with keeping a 
 disorderly room — with keeping intoxicating liquors in your room — 
 with drinking intoxicating liquors — with playing cards, and with in- 
 sulting Professor Plus on Friday night last." 
 
 " May I be permitted," enquired Mitten, " to ask upon what evi- 
 dence these charges are brought again?t me ?" 
 
 " I do not think," suid the President, " that you have a right to 
 demand the evidence, until you deny the charges." 
 
 " I hope," said Professor Plus, "that I shall be permitted to put 
 Mr. Mitten in possession of the evidence upon which the charges 
 are founded, before he is required to answer them." The President 
 nodded assent. " About twelve o'clock or a little aft^r, on Friday 
 night last, I was waked out of sleep by a noise in the dormitory 
 adjoining mine. It was not continuous, but fitful, and therefore the 
 more annoying ; for with every intermission I flattered myself it 
 would cease, and I would just get into a doze, when I was roused by 
 it again. I endured it for about an hour, when'l rose, dressed my- 
 self, went out, and found that the noise proceeded from Mitten's 
 room. I approached the door, and paused for a moment j just as I 
 reached it, I heard five thumps on a table in quick succession, fol- 
 lowed by «. yell and profane swearing. 'But for Mitten'e Jack of 
 Hearts,' said a voice that I took to be Johnson's, ' I should have 
 taken the pool. He plays the devil with heoj-ts.' ' Rabb,' said one, 
 ' you were looed.' 'No, I wasn't,' said Rabb, ' I didn't stand.' ' It's_ 
 Mitten's deal,' said another. ' No, it isn't,' said a third, ' he dealt 
 last time.' Here I knocked and was told to walk in, but I found 
 the door locked. After much shuffling and rattling of glasses, I was 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITfEN. 219 
 
 admitted. Upon entering the room, my olfactories were assailed 
 strongly with the fumes of wiuc .ai»d brandy.'' The Professor pro- 
 ceeded with the details which we have already given the reader. 
 
 "President S****," said j\Iitten, "suppose a Professor of this 
 Institution should take up a strong prejudice against a student, should 
 seek all opportunities of mortifying him and wounding his feelings, 
 and in order to bring him before the Faculty, plainly and palpably 
 violate the laws of College — fias the student any redress, and how ?" 
 
 " Mr. Mitten," said the President, "our time is too precious to be 
 occupied with the discussion an(i settlement of hypothetical cases ; 
 but if you have been thus aggrieved, you should seek redress of ihe 
 Faculty, and if you do not find it here, you should appeal to the 
 Trustees." 
 
 " So I supposed," said Mr. Mitten, "and I am now ready to an- 
 swer the charges brought against me, and to lay .my complaints be- 
 fore the Faculty." 
 
 lie now delivered a flaming speech, in a remarkably tine style for 
 one of his age. As to the first charge, he said that ^* keeping a dis- 
 orderly room," certainly implied something more than having disor- 
 der in- his room for a single-evening. So of ''Arc/jucy intoxicating 
 IiV{aors in hi» room." As to '^drinkin;/ intoxicating liquors," he 
 said he would answer that with the last charge, lie admitted there 
 was card-playing, but asserted po.sitively that there was not a bank 
 bill, a piece of gold or silver staked on the game — that the pool 
 spoken of consisted of nothing but button-molds — " 
 
 "Mr. Mitten," said the I'rosidont, "didn't those button-molds 
 represent quarters, half dollars or dollars, or some other denomina- 
 tion of money ?" 
 
 " Really, Dr. S*'*'"''', I cannot sec how little hits of bone could 
 rcpre&ent money. A bill represents money, because it contains on its 
 face a promise to pay money ; but- — " 
 
 " Go on with your defence, Mr. Mitten," said the President. 
 
 "Before I answer the last charge," continued Mitten, " I beg 
 leave to read a laW of the College: ' One of the Pn>/tssoi-s shall 
 room in each dormitori/, whose npicidl duty it shall ha to visit the 
 rooms, and keep order therein.' Now, ijcntlemcn of the Faculty, (I 
 only address such,) you perceive that Professor Plus had no right to 
 visit rooms out of his dormitory. • My dormitory was in charge of 
 Professor Syncope, a man not inore remarkable for his gigantic in- 
 tellect than he is for his courtesy, kindness and easy familiarity with 
 the students. He heard no noise, ' continuous or Jii/ul.' Ih was 
 
220 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 » 
 not disturbed, and it is very .strange that one out of f he dormitory 
 should have been annoyed and disturbed by noises kept up for near 
 an hour, which one in the dortnitory heard nothing of. I know thiat 
 one Professor juay have much more sensitive nerves than another, 
 and be much more given to irntchivgs and other imhcdHties, but 
 these differences will Jiavdly account for the wonderful fact, that the 
 one should have been kept awake an hour by noises, which the 
 other, more likely to be disturbed by them, should not have heard at 
 all. But, admitting that Professor Plus was disturbed by the noise, 
 and admitting that the iioise was twice as loud and twice as long 
 continued as it was, I deny his right to come into another Professor's 
 dormitory to suppress it. The law is clear upon this point. The 
 law says, there shall be one Professor in each dormitory ; Professor 
 Plus says there shall be two — at least, when he takes a nervous fit. 
 How far his interference with I^ofessor Syncope's prerogative com- 
 ported with courtesy and delicacy, it is not my province to determine; 
 but I have a right to see to it that I am not injured by the intrusion. 
 While Professor Plas was in that dormitory, I regarded him as no 
 Professor at all — as having no right to enter my room. No one has 
 a higher respect ,for the Professors of this institution, than I have ; 
 but when a Professor so far forgets his high and dignified position, 
 as to turn persecutor of those over whom he is placed as a protector 
 and instructor, to trample the laws of college under foot, to usurp 
 authority which does not belong to him, to forget the comity due to 
 his associates, to pretend to superhuman powers of thQ ^olfactories, 
 in distinguishing the odor of liquors assailing them at one and the 
 same time, to consort with owls, bats, wolves and hyenas " 
 
 "Stop, Mr. Mitten," said the President, "I cannot sit here and 
 hear a Profcssbr so grossly insulted without iuterpot^ing for his pro- 
 tection." , 
 
 " I mentioned no names," said Mitten, " and if the cap fits " 
 
 '' I hope," said Professor Plus, smiling in common with the other 
 Professors, " 1 hope that the young gentleman will be permitted to 
 finish his speech. I speak candidly and sincerely, when I say that 
 I have rarely, if ever, had such an intellectual entertatnment from 
 one of his years. I will thank him, however, to explain to me, 
 whei^ln I assumed the character of a ' persecutor.' All the rest of 
 his speech I underbtand perfectly, but as to this part I am wholly in 
 the dark." 
 
 " You have called upon Marshall, Morfon and myself to recite 
 oftener, than any other three students in th« class," said Mitten. 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 221 
 
 "•I was not apprised of that," returned the Professor, "though in 
 all probability it is true. The class is alphabetically arranged, and T 
 conimouly begin the recitation first at one extreme of the list, then 
 at the other, and then at the middle. It is frequently the case that 
 there are not propositions enouiih to engage the whole class, and 
 whenever that is the case, those near the middle will have to recite, 
 no matter at which end I begin. Now as Mitten's name stands right 
 between Marshall's gnd Morton's, and in the middle of the class,'! 
 commonly begin at him, if I do not commence at cither extreme, 
 and if I go up from him, Morton will not be called — -if I go down, 
 Marshall will not be. This will explain the matter, and I am very 
 happy to find that you have no other ground to base the charge of 
 persecution upon than this. Time was, when Mitten regarded it no 
 persecution to be called on often to recite." 
 
 " How much oftener have Marshall and Morton been called up 
 than the rest of the class ?" 
 
 '' Once." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " Twice," 
 
 "Mr. Mitten," said the President, "you will retire if you plfase." 
 He did so, and in a few minutes he was recalled to receiv« the 
 judgment of the Faculty, which, without a dissenting voice, was, 
 that he be expelled. In delivering the sentence, the President ad- 
 dressed him very feelingly — deplored the abuses to which he was 
 subjecting his cxtraordiri:u-y mind, and exposed the absurdity of any 
 student's supposing that a Professor could take up a prejudice against 
 a moral, orderly student. He referred to a law, which Mr. Mitten 
 had entirely overlooked, making it the gcntiral duty of all the Pro- 
 fessors to preserve order in the College, and see that its laws were 
 obeyed. The President having concluded, 
 
 " Dr. S****," said Mitttcn, " will you favor me so far as to tell me 
 what I am expelled for?" 
 
 '• Certainly," said the President j " for keeping — or if you like the 
 term better — for haii)»<j a. disorderly room ; for havinrj and drinking 
 intoxicating liquors in your room, for gamblin'r in your room, and for 
 gro.'^sly insulting a Professor in your room, and still more grossly be- 
 fore the whole Faculty." 
 
 " Was there any proof that 1 drank li(|Uor ?" 
 
 " No positive proof, but quite enough tn .satisfy our niind-i o^ it." 
 
 " Gamb.'iiiff implies that we jdavod for inonry — w;is there any 
 proof of thai ?" 
 
222 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 " Abundant proof; but we have not time now to give the reasons 
 of our opinion upon the several charges, i^uffice it to say that you 
 have not denied a single one of them ; and as for this one, we are 
 constrained to believe that six young gentlemen would not have set 
 up till one o'clock in the morning playing for button-molds." 
 
 " But four of them had actually gone to bed, and another was un- 
 dressing to go to bed when Professor Plus entered." 
 
 "Yes, but they must have sit up very late; for they were so com- 
 pletely exhausted that they could not take time to undress ; and so 
 sleepy, that between the knock at the door and the opening of it, 
 they all fell sound asleep. They monopolized all the beds in the 
 room, too, leaving you and your studious companion no place to 
 sleep ; which was exceedingly impolite, to say the least of it And 
 here, Mr. Mitten, is the end of questions and answers." 
 
 Mitten retired very much incensed, and appealed, not to the Trus- 
 tees, but to his fellow-students, for justice. Nine espoused his 
 cause. They disguised themselves, serenaded Professor Plus with 
 tin pans, horns, and other noisy instruments, broke his windows? 
 broke up his black-boards, and placarded him in various ways and 
 places. Six were detected and expelled, of whom David Thompson 
 was one. Three escaped for want df proof against them. Thus far 
 Thompson had been hurried on by blind impulse ; but now the hour 
 of sober reason had returned, and he was overwhelmed with the 
 troubles which gathered upon him. He was disgraced near the 
 close of a creditable Collegiate career. He had not money to bear 
 his expenses home. He looked towards home with horror; for his 
 mother was no Mrs. Mitten, and Mr. Markbam was a faithful repre- 
 sentative of his father, and there was the mortification of meeting 
 his many friends and his father's friends as an expelled student. As 
 his troubles increased, so did his indignation against his cousin. 
 " William," said he, '• had you followed Mr. Markham's advice, you 
 would have taken the first honor in your class; but instead of that, 
 3'ou have disgraced youraelf, disgraced me, and got five more of 
 your fellow students expelled. Two of the three ringleaders in the 
 scrape have escaped, while the rest of us who did nothing more than 
 join in the serenade are dismissed. Had Mr. Markham been in- 
 spired, he (?ould not have for.eseen our difficulties clearer, or advised 
 us better about them than he did. What benefit has our frolic been 
 to you ? How .much has it injured Plus ? Yon were justly pun- 
 ished, and you know it; and I know it; and suppose you had been 
 unjuslly punished, how could such foolery as we went through bet- 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITtKN. 223 
 
 ter your case ? Bad luck attends every one who links himself to 
 you. What am I to do ? I've not money enough to carry me 
 home " 
 
 "I've got nearly enough to carry us both home, and I can bor- 
 row " 
 
 "And where did you get it? You won it ; and I will not touch 
 a cent of it I'll tell you what I'm going to do: I'm go- 
 ing to acknowledge my fault, promise a strict observance of the rules 
 of the College for the future, and beg the Faculty to restore mc " 
 
 "Is there a man in whose veins the Thompson blood runs who can 
 let himself down so low as that I" 
 
 " Yes, and I am that man, I have done wrong, and why not con- 
 fess it ? I will confess it to everybody else who cannot help me; 
 why not confess it to the Faculty who may help me ?" 
 
 *• Well, if you can truckle to men who have treated your cousin as 
 the Faculty has treated mo, you can do so ; but if you do, I can 
 never feel to you aptiin as a cousin " 
 
 " Well then, we shall be even, for I certainly do not feel to you as 
 a cousin " 
 
 " l''ou don't ?" 
 
 •' No, I don't," 
 
 '' Then, good morning, Mr. Thompson. You can shape your 
 course as you please, and I'll do the same." 
 
 Thompson followed his better judgment; and the Faculty, in con- 
 sideration of his previous good conduct — that he bad never been 
 charged with an offence before — and that he was nearly related to 
 Mitten, and therefore exposed to peculiar temptation from him, com- 
 muted the punishment from expulsion to three weeks' suspension; 
 He rejoiced at his good fortune, and thenceforward improved it 
 through life. Two of his eompanions in guilt tried the same experi- 
 ment; but as they had nothing to recommend them to clemency, 
 their sentence was unchanged. 
 
 '•And there is Nassau Hall justice," 'said one of them. "Two 
 students in precisely the same predicament, one expelled, and the 
 other suspended for three weeks ! A glorious Collopc this I" 
 
 ISlr. Mitten waited on Miss Ward, and informed her of " the in- 
 justice that had been done him." 
 
 " It only gives nic, dear William," said she, "an opportunity of 
 proving the sincerity of my attachment. As the ivy clings to the 
 beauteous column, whether erect, careening, or prostrate, po my 
 heart's affections cling to my William, through all the changes of 
 
224 MAStER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 life. There is a sweet comfort mingled witli the bitterness of your 
 misfortune, my idol : it is, that the hour which is to unite our hearts 
 in the golden ch:un of wedlock, will be hastened a full year and a 
 half or more." 
 
 William looked up to the ceilinj;, as if he expected to see the gold 
 chain up there ; and Amanda took his upturned eyes as an indication 
 of heavenly aspiratious, and wept. 
 
 " I must tear myself from you, Amanda," said William, presenting 
 his hand and lips. She threw her arms around him, and then he 
 threw his arms around her. They kissed. 
 
 " Another," said Amanda. , 
 
 " And yet another." 
 
 And then a long, long, " farewell !" 
 
 Sho dropped her head upon his bosom and wept. William covered 
 his face with his handkerchief, blew his nose twice, sympathetically, 
 heaved theatrically, and waited a sign that the tragedy was ,over. 
 But as no sign came, he said : 
 
 " We must part, Amanda. I never shall forget you — your all- 
 confiding nature, your tender, warm-hearted love." 
 
 Here an honest tear filled his eye, conscience stving him, shame 
 reddene'd his checks, and he gave her a strong, remorse-forced em-9 
 brace, and tore himself from her, in truth. As he left the door, be 
 muttered : 
 
 "Love like that deserves a better return. How sincere, how 
 ardent ! How sweet her breath, how fervid her embrace, how elo- 
 quent her grief! And yet they made no more impression on me, 
 until I began to utter literal truths and mental lies as a return for 
 her affection, than the dew-drop makes upon the flinty rock ! Heav- 
 ens and earth I What progress I am making in iniquity ! 1 am 
 already a very devil ! A deceiver of those who love me most — my 
 mother — Amanda — I must not reckon up my iniquities, or they will 
 addle my brain, or drive me tp suicide." 
 
 He reached his room, paced it awhile in anguish, then seated 
 himself and wrote : 
 
 " My dearest Louisa-rlll health drives me from college " 
 
 " Another lie !" said he, flinging down the pen and rising furi- 
 ously. " How sin begets sin," continued he, with hurried strides 
 over the room. 
 
 It was long before he could return to his letter; and when he did, 
 ifwa^ only to add : 
 
 " To-morrow, I leave for Georgia, whence you will hear from me 
 Diore fully and more affectionately, on my arrival." 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 225 
 
 " There," said lie, " there is my last lie, at least. I'll go home, 
 reform, marry Louisa, and lead a new life." 
 
 He set out for Georgia the next day, and reached home without 
 delay or accident. The Sanford draft had preceded him just two 
 days. His mother paid it promptly, and had just closed a long, tear- 
 bedewed letter tahim, when he rushed into the room, and advanced 
 to embrace her. He did embiace her, just in time to sAve her from 
 falling to the tloor, for she had swooned at the lirst sight of him. 
 Assistance was called, and she was put to be'd. She r«vived, em- 
 braced her child and swooned again. The doctors adyised him to 
 retire from her bedside, until she rocuvered strength to receive him. 
 So long did the second paroxysm continue, that even the physicians 
 began to fear that life was extinct. She did revive, however, like 
 one awaking out of a sweet sleep. Casting her -eyes around the 
 room, she whispered : 
 
 "Have they taken him away from me already ?" 
 
 "He is near at hand, Mrs. Mitten," said a physician, *'and will 
 bo introduced again as soon as you become a little more composed." 
 
 "I am perfectly composed now," said she, in the same subdued 
 tone, " let him come in. Do you know what brouglit him home so 
 sopn ?" 
 
 '*No, Mrs. Mitten, your physicians know better when you will be 
 prepared to receive him than you do, and we hope you will put 
 yourself under our direction." 
 
 "Certainly I will, Doctor. I aiji a poor, weak woman. I try to 
 do right, but I am always doing wrong. Let it be as soon as you 
 can, Doctor; but don't yield your judgment to mine, for I have no 
 confidence in my opinions. I followed brother's advice while he 
 lived, and Mr. Markham's after he died, and*! don't know what 
 better I could have done. I feel a great deal better now. Doctor; 
 don't you think lam? I think I could see him now calmly; if 
 nothing had brought him home." 
 
 One of the physicians withdrew to William's room : 
 
 " William," said he, " for your mother's sake I enquire of yon, 
 what brought you home so soon '(" 
 
 "T was expelled from College," said William. " I need not try to 
 oorrceal \i, for it must soon be known." 
 
 •' William," continued tl)e Doctor, " if you tell your mother that, 
 I'm confident .she will not survive it an hour. She has been declining 
 in health for<>everal months, and your sudden appearance to her, has 
 brought her to the tery brink of the grave " 
 
226 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 '^ Then, I svxppose, to the long list of my lies, I must add another 
 to a dying mother." 
 
 " Why, William, you shock ko!"' 
 
 "I 'wish heaven's lightning would 'shock' uie, even unto death. 
 What Lcame into the world for, I don't know, and the sooner I go 
 out of it, the better for both the world and myself, I reckon." 
 
 "Compost yourself, William, and if we send for you, approach 
 your mother with as much self-composure as possible — '—" 
 
 Just here the Doctor was sent for in haste. He returned to Mrs. 
 Mitten, and found her sinking, and begging to see her son. He was 
 sent for, and approached her with marvellous self-command. 
 
 She reached forth her arras to him, and he gently bent himself to 
 their embrace. She held him long to her bosom, a flood of tears 
 came to her relief, and she brightened wonderfully. Releasing and 
 gazing on him for a moment, she said : 
 
 '' My dear boy, you are wonderfully improved in appearance." 
 
 By this time the room was thronged with visitors. The Doctors 
 requested them to withdraw, in order that Mrs. Mitten might be un- 
 disturbed, and if possible, gain sleep. 
 
 " Let William and Mr. Msrkham remain," said she. 
 
 The rest retired. 
 
 " Mr. Markham," said she, ^'I am very weak. I do not think the 
 Doctors know how extremely ill I am. Be as you have been for a 
 few years past, and as you would have ever been but for my folly, a 
 father to my boy ; and, William, ^regard Mr. Markham as your fath- 
 er, and follow his counsels in all things. Mr. Markham, pray with us. 
 Give thanks for the safe return of my boy, and that I have been per- 
 mitted to see him once more before I leave the world. What- for- 
 tune brings him hAne so suddenly I know not, but it is good for- 
 tune to me, for without it I am sure I should never have seen him 
 again. Give me your hand and kneel, W^illiam. Pray, Mr. Mark- 
 ham." 
 
 As they bowed. William thought of Mr. Markham's parting pray- 
 er, and the counsels that preceded it, of his abuses of those coun- 
 sels, and the bitter consequences ; and his bosom heaved with inde- 
 scribable emotions. His mother gave his hand a .quick emphatic 
 pressure at every petition, which she would have him notici; particu- 
 larly. These signals of attention became less and less sensible as 
 the prayer progressed, till just before its conclusion they ceased en- 
 tirely — her grasp relaxed, and her hand lay motionless and almost 
 lifeless upon that of her son. Mr. Markham and William rose, 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 227 
 
 turned their eyes to the gentle puflferer, and saw on her countenance 
 every mark of immediate dissolution. They called for the Doctors — 
 they came, and reached her bed just in time to hear her last word.s : 
 
 "William — meet mo in " 
 
 The sentence was never finished. The sweetest, the kindest, the 
 gentlest, the holiest of the village was gone I We will not pretend 
 to describe the scenes which followed. Iler daughters and sons-in- 
 law came but to pour tears upon her mortal remains, as they reposed 
 in the coffin. The elder sister and her hu.sband took charge of the 
 house; the other two remained a few days, and left for their resi- 
 d^co. William took his room, and never left it for near a ponth, 
 save to tread pensively the walks of the garden. At the end of a 
 fortnight, he addressed a letter to Miss Green, reporting his mother's 
 death, and telling her that she was the last and strongest tie that 
 bound him to earth, and his only hope of heaven. In due time he 
 received an answer, expressing the tenderest sympathy for him in his 
 bereavement, and concluding as follows : 
 
 " I have been tormented by strange reports conccrniug you which 
 I cannot, I will not believe, until they receive some confirmation from 
 your own lips. I will not aggravate your griefs by repeating them 
 now, farther than just to say, that if true, your last brief epistle from 
 Princeton was untrue. With unabated love, 
 
 Voru Louisa." 
 
 ClIAl'TKll XX A'. 
 
 Miss Grekn's letter filled Mitten's bosom with horror. " What a 
 thoughtless fool I was," said he, " to write that useless lie to her ! I 
 ought to have known that she would soon learn the true cause of my 
 sudden departure from Princeton I Why did T not forestall public 
 report by a frank •"♦jnfession of the truth, and offer such justilications 
 of myself as I could? True it is, that when a man turns rogue, he 
 turns fool, and no less true is it, that when a man turns liar he turns 
 fool. It will almost take my life *to lose Louisa; but 1 deserve to 
 lose her, that 1 may learn what it is to have one's holiest feelings and 
 brightest hopes trifled with. I will write to Louisii, make ^ frank 
 confession of my errors, vow an eternal divorce from them, and prom- 
 ise to be anything and everything that she would have me to be, if 
 she will remain 8teadfa.st to her engagement." lie did so, and in- 
 deed, made the most of bLs case that could be made of it. The an- 
 swer came : 
 
228 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN 
 
 " Mr. Wjlltam Mittin — Sir: Your dismissal from College, 
 and your misrepresentatioa to me, I could forgive; but I never can 
 forgive your addresses to me, while you were actually engaged to 
 Miss Amanda Ward. " Your abused Louisa." 
 
 " All is lost!" exclaimed he, flinging down the letter. " How did 
 she find out the engagement? Amanda herself must have inibrra- 
 ed her of it." This was not true; The engagement came to Miss 
 Green's ears on this wise: Jlitten's attentions to Mis« Ward were 
 notorious; and her disrelish for any society but his was equally no- 
 torious. From these facts, the inference was drawn by many that 
 they were engaged. What was stated at first, as a matter of in|pr- 
 ence, soon began to be stated as a matter of fact. As it was contra- 
 dicted by no one, it came to be regarded as a thing universally ad- 
 mitted. So Rumor bore it to Miss Green's ears. The mischievous 
 jade was no loss cruel to Miss W^ard than she was to Miss Green; 
 for she reported to her that Mr. Mitten was in regular correspondence 
 with Miss Green from his return to Princeton, to his departure for 
 Georgia. Amanda drooped under the tidings — became sedate and 
 pensive, gave her heart to One who better deserved it than hier lover, 
 fixed her adoration on the proper Object, moved among the poor and 
 afflicted like an angel of mercy, lived to be universally beloved, kind- 
 ly rejected many a wooer, and died smiling, where Mary sat weeping. 
 
 The report went abroad that William had broken his mother's 
 heart. This was nearly, but not quite true. Mis. Mitten's health 
 had begun to decline before William's troubles began, and it is pro- 
 bable that she would not have survived a month longer than she did, 
 had William remained at Princeton. But she had become uneasy 
 at the silence of his College companions, concerning him, for some 
 months past. The tone of his letters had changed alarmingly. Then 
 his heavy draft on her for money, increased her alarms. Then the 
 Sanders draft added poignant mortification to hf^: distressing fears 
 and anxieties. All these things were wasting her away rapidly, 
 when his abrupt appearance to her filled her with emotions which 
 heir feeble frame could not endure. His conduct -certainly shortened 
 her days ; but it could not with propriety be said that he broke her 
 heart. . Still so Meat the report, and it gained strength from his re- 
 marks to the Doctor, which were overheard by a visitor, and went 
 forth with exaj'gei-ations. The consequence was, that when he be- 
 gan to mingle with the villagers, there was something so cold and 
 distant in their greetings, so formal and cautious in their conversa- 
 tion, that lie re|coiled from their society, shut himself up in his room, 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 229 
 
 brooded over his misfortunes for a time, became enraged at the treat- 
 ment of his old friends, and with a heroism worthy ofa better cause, 
 he resolved to retaliate upon them. He went forth bold!}- among 
 them, treated all coldly, and some rudely ; made advances to no one j 
 stepped loftily and independently, and resolved to hold every man 
 personally responsible to" him, who had taken the liberty of using 
 his name, otherwise than with the profoundcst respect. The young 
 gentleman had undertaken an Herculean task, but he deemed him- 
 self adequate to it, and acted accordingly. He called the Doctor to 
 account for circulating remarks made by him " under great excite- 
 ment and distress, which any man of common humanity would never 
 have, thought of repeating." Tue Doctor declared that he never had 
 repeated tlieni. Mr. Jlitten told him that " it was not worth while 
 to add the sin of falsehood to the sin of Jirutality, for no one else 
 could have mentioned tliem." 
 
 Anderson's remarks also became town talk, as soon as it was known 
 that Mitten had ''backed down" in the "third heat." Ho went to 
 Anderson in a great rage. 
 
 "I understand, sir," said he, "that you have been making very 
 free with my name in my absence."' 
 
 " No, Billy, I only said " 
 
 " Don't call me Billy sir " . . • 
 
 " Well, General Washtn/j/ton — — '" 
 
 " Stop sir I But for your age, I'd give you a caning. And, now 
 listen to me sir: If ever I hear of your mentioning my name in any 
 way, I shall forget the respect due to age, and give you a chastising, 
 let it cost what it may. If ^\i must expend your race-course wit, 
 expend it upon some one else, not on me." 
 
 " When you undertake to chastise me," said Stewy, "you'd better 
 appoint your executors : for they'll have to wind up the business." 
 
 Thus Mr. Mitten went on rectifying public opinion, and purifying 
 private conversation, until there were but five persons in the village 
 or its vicinity who could venture to be upon terms of intimacy with 
 him. These five, two old men and three young one?, conceived a 
 marvelous attachment to him. They forced themselves into his af- 
 fections by a thousand kind sayings of him, and as many harsh ones 
 of all who kept aloof irom him. 
 
 " Never mind. Mitten," said one of the ancients ; " as soon as you 
 get possession of your property, these very men who aro shying off 
 from you now, and whispering all sorts of things about you, will be 
 truckling to you like hound-puppies. They hate me worse than 
 
 p 
 
 
 
230 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 they do you, just because I always take up for jou. I see how tliey 
 look at me, every time tliey see me with you. ' I despise those old 
 mea who forget that they were once youufr, and make no allowanco 
 for a little wildaets in youug men." 
 
 "Well," said a young one, "I'm glad to see Mitten's indepen- 
 dence. He is not beholden to them for anything, and" I like to see 
 him going bis own way, and taking care of himself.'' 
 
 ''Mitteu/' said a third, "we are going into Thew's back rooni to 
 amuso ourselves with a game of cards for an hour or .so ; where shall 
 we find you when we come out ?" 
 
 '• Why," said William, " I'll go irf with you.'' 
 
 " You'd better not," said two ov three voices at once. "You 
 might be tempted to play," said Old Fogy, " and when once a young 
 man begins to play cards, he never knows where to stop. Could you 
 do as we do, just set down and amuse yourself for aif hour or two, 
 and then get up and qait, why that would be all well enough ; but 
 young people are not like old folks." 
 
 " Well," contiuued William, " I'll go in and see you play, but I 
 will not play myself, for I have suffered enough from card-playing 
 for one lifetime I knov/." 
 
 " Oh well, if you'll do that, no harm done." ^ t 
 
 W^illiam went in, and kept his word. 
 
 The same f^ceue wf.s repeated fur a number of days. At length 
 William began to spend his opinion upon the play of one and 
 another, dciiioDstrating by the doctrine of chances that they were 
 injudicious. 
 
 '• Its lucky for u", Mitten, that youj^o'i't pbiy, or you'd'soon leave 
 H^ without a stake. We know nothing about book-learning, and 
 just thump away after our old plantation way. Old as lamji'dgive 
 the world if I only had your education." 
 
 Day after day rolled away in like manner. 
 
 At length, said William, ''let mo take a baud, and see if my theo- 
 ry holds good in practice." 
 
 " Oh, no I" exclaimed half of them.. " He'll beat us all to death- 
 'What do we know about the doctrine of chances !" 
 
 '• Mitten," said Old Fogy, ''don't play. I'm an pld man, and 
 -thGUgh I don't know anything about chances, I know that the cards 
 •run GO sometimes that there is no coifnting on them. Now, you are a 
 high-minded, honorable young man, and if you should happen to 
 lose largely, you would be strongly tempted to refuse to pay, plead 
 .infancy,, the gaming act, and all that sort of thing; even when you 
 
MAS'rER WILLIAM MTFTEX. 281 
 
 eot able to pay, nml I Avoultln't lo«o in)' jjood opinion of you for all 
 tbe inoney in the county." 
 
 ''I hope, Mr. Fogy, you don't think Yd do that." , 
 
 " No, 1 know you'd die now before you'd do it, but temptations are 
 hard tbingi9 to get over. I talked just so to young Tickler, a.s honor- 
 able a youug fellow a.s ever was born, and vvlmt did he do ? Why 
 he won of nic day after day, and week after week ; but when the 
 cards took a turn in uiy favor, he refused to pay tl-.e little, nasty sum 
 of one thousand dollars, when he was worth forty thousand. 1 never 
 asked him for it till he got his prop^gty in hand, and then he said I 
 tempted him to play and cheated him, and I don't know \7hat all. 
 I wouldn't have lost my good opinion of that ynung man for double 
 the money." ,• 
 
 " Well," said ^liticn.. •• I an^ mt ansious lo play.'*' And he did 
 not. 
 
 Mitteu'.s company and back-room sittings coming to the oars of 
 Mr. Markliam, he warned William against his cssociates. Ho told 
 hijii that they were a set of bharpcrs who would certainly ruin him 
 if he did not abandon them. . * • . • 
 
 " Mr. Markham," said William, " these are the only men of the 
 village, (yoursielf excepted,) who have treated me with any respect 
 and kindness ^nce my return home. You mistake their character. 
 They play cards, it is true, but so far from temptinj; me to do the 
 same, they advise me not to do it; and consequently I have uot 
 thrown a card since my association with them. I should be au in- 
 gratc and a fool to abandon the only friends who stood by me when 
 all tlie rest of the world abandoned me " 
 
 ^Ir. Markham told him their friendships were pretended, th(^r 
 prol'essious unreal, and their coun.scls hypocritical. In short, he 
 used every argument' and entreaty that he could to withdraw him 
 from these men, but all wa.s unavailing. 
 
 About this time his college compauioiis returned, liaviug com^ 
 pleted their course. Brown hr»d taken the first lionor in his class, 
 and Markham tin; third. Thompson graduated creditably, but took 
 no htnor. 
 
 The day after their ariival, Thompson .presented Mitten a beau- 
 tiful box. 
 
 " And who sends this 'r" said Mitten. 
 
 "Open and see," said his ccusin. ^.^ 
 
 He opened it, and saw all the jewelry tBul he had given to 
 
232 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 Amanda. On the top of it lay a small note of velvet paper prettily 
 folded. He opened and read : 
 
 "Let them follow the heart of ihe giver. 
 
 Amanda." 
 
 "How did she seem, David, when she handed it to you "/" 
 
 " Heart-broken." '' * 
 
 " Yes, poor girl ! Had I remained true to her, she would not have 
 forsaken me, as all my colder friends have done. In a little time, 
 now, I could have made her comfortable and happy, and for all time 
 she would have made me happy." 
 
 TeSrs rolled rapidly down his cheeks as he spoke. 
 
 Mr, Markham turned over his school and the profits of it to his 
 son and Brown — he only retaining such a supervijion over it as to 
 pass it as his school. The first studied medicine, and the sepond 
 laW; while teaching. In a little time J3rown -fixed up a comfortable 
 little residence for his mother, and furnished it neatly. He gave his 
 sisters the benefit of a good Female Acadeiuy, and extended their 
 education by his own private instruction. David Thompson became 
 the head of his father's family, and trod in the footsteps of his father 
 through life. William continued his vnhtckt/ associations. 
 
 One day, while he was looking on at the game of his friends : 
 
 *' Here, Mitten," said one of the seniors, " play my hand for me," 
 rising and going out. On his return another addressed him, saying : 
 
 " Look here, old man, take your seat there and play your own 
 hand we can't play with Mitten." 
 
 Mitten had won ten dollars while representing his old friend. 
 
 " Lord," said another, " what a benefit an education is in every- 
 thing !" ■ 
 
 '\Villiam no"^ proposed to take a hand for himself, 
 
 "Well," Oiie said, " we needn't object on. his account, if we don't 
 object on our own, for there is no danger of his losing." 
 
 William played, and won a little. So did he for five or six sittings. 
 Then his winnings and losings began to balance each other pretty 
 equally. Then he began to lose regularly, but in small amounts — 
 then in larger amounts. 
 
 About this time Mr. Mitten made divers remarkable discoveries^ 
 to-wit: That whenever he*lost, one of the old ones and one of the 
 young ones lost, but that they won in regular succession, so that, at 
 the end of a week's pla}-, he owed (for they " played on tick,") each of 
 them almost exactly the same amount. Thirt though they often played 
 against all the doctrines of chances, they were very sure to win. That 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MIITEN. 233 
 
 the youn<^ onq would frequently relieve hini?elf from tlic fatigues of 
 the game by pLiyiug the fiddle and walking round the table, and 
 that so long ae he played the fiddle, he (Mitten) M^as certain to losei 
 That fhe other two young ones lost and won occasionally, but in the 
 long run were like himself, losers ; and (hat their losses, like his own 
 \?ere the equal gain of the other three. 
 
 Now prudenco dictated that he should quit this clique, but he 
 was largely over a thousand dollars in debt to the trio, and he could 
 not gain his consent to do so, until he recovered his losses. At a 
 convenient season he took his fellow-sufferers aside, informed ihem 
 of his discoveries, and proposed to thcni that they should play in co- 
 partnership against the other three " only till they got back their 
 money." They readily assented to his proposition, and William in- 
 doctrinated them in a set of signs, offensive and defensive, that in a 
 better cause would have immortalized him. Tie cautioned them to 
 wait the signal from him before they put any of their p ans of attack 
 in operation, and in the mean-tinio, to act wholly en the defensive. 
 
 The parties met, ami old Fogy entertained the company with an 
 account of his early adventures at the card-table, in which was this 
 passage : " I lost, and lost, and lost. Dollar after dollar went, and 
 negro after negro. I bore it all like a man until I had to sell ray 
 favorite servant, 8'uion. This was touch, but I had to sacrifice 
 him or Tiiy honor, so 1 let him go." 
 
 The club took their scats. Two hours rolled away, and the seuiors 
 gained nutliing from the juniors. The tiddler got fatigu«d and took 
 his fiddle. The Juniors, ns if by accident, hid their hands every 
 time he walked behind them. He soon got rested, and resumed his 
 Eoat. At twelve o'clock at night, the Juniors being a little winners, 
 Mitten got too sleepy to set any longer, and the game closed. Five 
 sittings ended nearly in the same way t<i the utter amazement of the 
 seniors. 
 
 • " The young rdscals have found out our signs," said C)ld Fogy, 
 '* we must make new ones." 
 
 They did so. Mitten discovered it in three deals. 
 
 " This is a piddling sort o' business," said Fogy ; " let's play 
 higher." 
 
 William had no)t only concerted his signs in a masterly manner, 
 but he had a way of communicating to his jiartners the most import- 
 ant signs of their adversaries as soon as he discovered them. While 
 he was making his discoveries his party lost a little. 
 
 " I don't like to raise the stakcH when I'm losing," said William, 
 p* 
 
234 MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 "but luck must turn soon, aud that will be the quickest way of get- 
 ting back my I'fsings, and I believe I'jri willing to play a little- 
 higher.'' 
 
 Old Fogy put up the stakes very high, and William gave the sig- 
 nal for attack with all his armory. In less than an hour, the corn 
 (representing money) was streaming from the Fogy party in a perfect 
 sluice. Mitten lost to his partners two hundfed dollars, ^nd the 
 Fogies lost to them from five hundred to a thousand each. At one 
 o'clock, A. M., Mitten rose from the table saying : "That his brain 
 was so addled he couldn't play; and that if he cwild, such a run 
 oi' luck would ruiu the best player in the world." 
 
 It would be both interesting and instructive to the young, to trace 
 Mitten's progress step by step in gaming, until he became a most ao- 
 Compli.^hed blackleg; but our limits will not allow us to do so. He 
 was in rapid progress to this distinction, when Miss Flora Summers, 
 daughter of Col. Mark Hummers, who resided live, miles from t^e 
 village, returned home from Salem, N. C. She was an only child, 
 handsome, agrcenble in manners, of good s^nse and well improved 
 mind. William visited her, and so did John Brown, now admitted 
 to the bar and practising with brilliant promise. The Colonel re- 
 ceived Brown with great cordiality, and William with distant civili- 
 ty. Flora reversed things exactly. The <]^olonel was not surprised 
 at her preference, but before it had time to ripen into love, he thua 
 addressed her : " My daughter, it may be that Mitten and Brown 
 will become suitors of yours. J. do not say to you, in that event 
 marry Brown, but I do say to you do not marry Mitten, if you would 
 .save yourself and me fi'om misery intolerable. You know his his- 
 tory in part. If he did not break his mother's Ijcart, be- hastened 
 her death. iJe has rendered himself odious to all good men, and 
 become the associate of gamblers. And yet 1ft is a yoyng man of 
 handsome pcr.'on, iine address and fine talents. Those endowments 
 are apt to win upon a girl's heart; but surely my daughter can for- 
 tify her heart against dangerous impressions from such a mau aa 
 Mitten." 
 
 "•Yes, Pa," said Flora, "I can and will. I assure you that I 
 will never give, ray hand to William." 
 
 '• Then, without feigning an attachment that you do not feel, give 
 him the earliest opportunity of declaring himself, and let your refusal 
 be respectful but decisive." 
 
 " I will. It will cost me no difficulty to refuse Mitten ; but I 
 don't think T ever can love John Brown. Dear me, Pa, he is 80 
 ugly I" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITl'EN. 235 
 
 "Well, uiy child, be that as you would have it. 1 certainly shall 
 not urgc^you to have Brown or any body else. Your choice will be 
 mine, provided your choice does not light upon one of despicable 
 eharacter." 
 
 Mitten lepeated his- visits, and was received more wariuly 1»y the 
 Colonel than at first. In process of time he declared himself and 
 wa.s positively vojected. Brown continued his visits too, but at much 
 longer intervals. His fame in the mean time was constantly growing. 
 His manners we're ntjt wanting in polish, and in intellectual endow- 
 ments he now far outstripped Mitten. His visits for five or n\x 
 month.*? seemed only of a fiiendly eharacter. He read well and talked 
 well, and was both a wit and hnmori.«t; but he ncter wounded by 
 his sallies. I'lora soon became satisfied that John had no idea of 
 courting her, and she threw oflF all shyness and came upon terms of 
 easy and ngrceablo familiarity with him. John ^poke freely and 
 playfully of his own homeliness ; told amusing anecdotes about it, 
 and spoke of it in such ways as made Flora laugh heartily. A. 'single 
 example : After they liad become as intimate as brother nnd sister, 
 there was a pause in the conversation one day, and John alter a deep 
 sigh said, " Well, f'd give a thousand dollars just to know for one 
 hour how an ugly man feels." Flora laughed immoderately. " Well, 
 John," said she, "I think you might for a dollar know hov such an 
 one feels for a life time." Then John roared. Thus matters went 
 on until Flora began to Icel that John'.i society was a very import- 
 ant item in her life of single blessedness. 8he met him 'with smiles 
 and parted with him^ — not exactly in sadness, but with an expression 
 of countenance and •' good-bye," which seemed to say, " John, it's 
 hard to part with you, you pleasant, ugly dog." 
 
 Still John never whispered love, while everybody spoke hi.^ pr.iiscs. 
 .Vbout this time Col. Summers got into a lawsuit, that alarmed him 
 greatly. He employed Drown, who dispo.sed of it, on demurrer, at 
 the first term of the court. At his next visit to Flora, she expressed 
 her gratitude to him very tenderly, and added, ''John, I hope some 
 day or other we will bu able to repay tho obligation that we are un- 
 der to you." 
 
 " Why, Miss Flora, said John, " it's the easiest thing in the world 
 for you to cancel the obligation and make nie tho willing servant of 
 you both " 
 
 "How, John?" 
 
 " Why just let your lather give his daughter to me, and you ratify 
 the gift," 
 
286 MASTEll WILLIAM MITPEN. 
 
 Flora looked at him and blushed, and smiled, looked seriou? and 
 said : , 
 
 " Are you in earnest, John ?'' 
 
 " in just as sober earnest as if I were preaching." 
 
 "John, I don't believe you love me." 
 
 '• Yes, I do. Miss Flora, as ardently as ever man loved woman, but 
 until recently I believed my love was hopeless, and therefore I con- 
 cealed it, or tried to conceal it, for I know you often saw it." 
 
 " Why, John, you astonisji me. I — Gro, ask Pa, and if he gives me 
 to you, I'll ratify the gift. I might get a handsomer man, but I 
 never could get a more worthy one." 
 
 "As to my beauty," said John, ''why that's neither here aor 
 there. One thing is certain about it, and that is, that it will never 
 fade." 
 
 " Well, John, it" we live ten years longer, I am sure i shall think 
 you handsome ; for your features have been growing more and more 
 agreeable to mc, ever since you began to visit me." 
 
 " Well, Miss Flora, if they are agreeable (o yon — toleraJAe to you, 
 it is a matter of perfect iiidilforence to me Avhat any one else thinks 
 of them. Another great advantage you will have in marrying a 
 homely m.Tn, and that is, you will not be exposed to the common tor- 
 ments of tlie wives of handsome men." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that, John. Splendid talents, renown and 
 fascinating manners are much more apt to win the admiration of our 
 sex than a pretty face. ' 
 
 •' If you see all these things in rac, Flora^jyou see. more than I have 
 ever seen. As 3'ou are getting in a complimentary strain, I'll thank 
 you to a.^k your father in; for though I bear compliments with great 
 Ibrtitudc, they ruways embarrass men, and when coming from you, 
 they give uic a peculiar drawing to the lips that utter them." 
 
 " Well, how do you know but they would bear the drawing with 
 great fortitude, too T' So saying, she bounced to her room and left 
 him alone, saying as she flitted away, '' I'll send my fecher to you 
 and UsUn how you draw to each other." 
 
 T^e Colonel soon made his appearance. 
 
 John looked at the Colonel, put his right leg over his left, took it 
 down again and patted his foot. The Colonel took a chew of tobac. 
 CO, cleared his throat and looked at John. John cleared his throat 
 too, coughed twice, blew his nose and looked at the carpet. " John, 
 said the Colonel, " Flora said you wished to see me." 
 
 '• Yes. sir," said John, "I have long had a warm attachment CO 
 
MASTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 237 
 
 j'our daugbtev— and I thought if I could gain your »sseut to address 
 her " 
 
 "To uddresx her! Why, she says you arc engaged, and only 
 want my consent to get married. If that is the case, you have my 
 consent freelj^. There is not a man in the world that I would prefer 
 to you for my daughter."' So saying, he retired. 
 
 Flora immediately re-entered, laughing immoderately. '• \\'eli 
 John," said she, "T don't think you had much of a ^ draiving^ to 
 Pa." 
 
 " Confound this asking lor daughters I" said John, " I'd rather 
 ask forty girls tu marry me, than one father for his daughter. I 
 never acted lice such a fool in all my life I" Three weeks froiu this 
 date, John Brown and Flora Summers became one. and remained 
 one in the best .-ipuse oi' the term, through- life. 
 
 Mitten surrendered himself to cards ; distinguished himself among 
 gamblers for his shrewdness, and actually made money by his calling, 
 until he was arrested in his career by that disease so common to 
 gamblers, and so fatal to all, consumption. AVhen he found the di- 
 sease fastened incurably. upon hini; he took his room, his mother's 
 bed room. The old family IJiblc was there. Sbe had often said, 
 that at her death .«he wished it to go to William, and there it was left 
 for him.. He opcnrd it. found in it many traces of his mother's pen, 
 scraps of paper with tests of scripture, holy rcsolutiohs, prayers, 
 Christian cousolation.«,^and the like, written on them, lie closed the 
 book, pressed it to his bosom, and wept bitterly. " Dearest, best 
 of women I" .soliloquized he. '' What a curse have I been to 
 thee I what a curse have I been to myself! One fault thou 
 
 had.st, and only one No, I must uot call it a favlt — one 
 
 uealcness shall I call it ? No, that is too harsh a term for it. One 
 iieavenly virtue in excess, thou hadst too much tendertiess for thy 
 son. Btit why do I advert to this I When 1 reached the age of 
 reflection and .self-government, this very thing should have en- 
 deared thee the more to me — should have made me more re- 
 solute ifjkcfonuiiig tlie errors, which thy excessive kindness pro- 
 duced, ^ut oh, how impotent arc human resolutions against vices 
 .which ha.'c become constitutional ! Tonj, so for Mr. Markhani.'' 
 
 Mr. Markham came, and found William with his head on his 
 mother's Bible, bedewing it with tears. lie raised his head, reached 
 his hot hand to his friend, and after some struggles for utterance, 
 .said : ■ ' ^ 
 
 ** Mr. Markham, you have known me from my childhood to the 
 
238 MACTER WILLIAM MITTEN. 
 
 present luoDient, you have marked my every step in the pathway of 
 ruin — you have f^cen me abuse and torture the best of mother?, re-' 
 ject the counsels of the best of uncles, a ad the best of friends, mul- 
 tiplying sins to cover sins, insulting men for disapproving of what 
 my own conscience disapproved, aveiding the good, and consorting 
 with the depraved, prostituting heaven's best gifts to earth's worst 
 purposes — in short, assimilating myself to a deyil, as far as it was 
 possible for me to do so ; now toll me, ray dear friend, do you think 
 • it possible for such an abandoned wretch as I am to find mercy in 
 heaven ? In making up your .answer, remember that I never thought 
 of asking mercy, and probably never should have thought of it, 
 had I not seen Death approaching jue witli sure, unerrnig step." 
 
 " Oh yes/' said Mr. Markham, '"you are not beyond the reach of 
 mercy ; provided you seekit in the wa^'of God's appointment."* 
 
 " J^e pleased to in.struct me in that way ;, for 1 am lamentably de- 
 licient in knowledge of the -Bible" 
 
 " Well, in the first place, you cann»t expect mercy unless yon ask 
 , for it. If you ask for it you cannot expect to, have your request 
 granted, unless you perform the conditions upon which such request 
 is to be granted. Now these congiitions are (the essential cues,) 
 that you show mercy to every human being that has offended 
 you " 
 
 " That is hut reasonable.'' 
 
 You must freely, and from your heart forgive every one who 
 has trespassed against you. You remember your infantile prayer." 
 
 '•Yes, but I never understood it until this moment." 
 
 "■ You must seek to be reconciled to everyone who has aught against 
 you." 
 
 '•' The harderst condition of all. ] can forgive those who have in- 
 jured me; but how shall I ask peace of those whom I never 
 jwronged'i'" 
 
 <- (,Jod never wronged you, did He 't .\nd yet He asks you to be 
 reconciled to hiui." 
 
 ''Wonderful I,' ejaculated William, thoughtfully. 
 
 •'• You would not come to me, William, and ask a favor of me, and 
 at the same time say, .'I ask it, but I do not believe you will grant 
 it,' would you T' 
 
 "No, that would' be to insult you to your face." 
 
 '< Neither must you ask favors wf God, believing that He -nrill not 
 VaJit them. You must ask, believing in His goodness, His word, 
 aud His promises, i. e., you must ask in.faith. 
 "Perfectly ju.st!" 
 
MASTER WILLIAM WITTKN. 
 
 Oi>( 
 
 '• If you were to ask ;i favor of nic, and I should ^ny come, aj^aiii, 
 I caunot grant it ju,«t no^; would you turn away from rac in despair, 
 and never ask me again \" f 
 
 " Sure!}' not." ' 
 
 " Then do not show less confidence in Clod than you have in nu;.. 
 If he docs not answer your prayers as !^oon a.s you cxpecl, pr;ij on 
 and bide Ilis time." 
 
 " Well, Cfcd helping mc, 1 will follow your counsels tfiis tini*-, 
 to the day of my death. Pray ouce more for me, thou heaven-born 
 and heaven-directed man." 
 
 Mr. Markham prayed with him, as if his " lips wore touched 
 with a live coal from off the altar." 
 
 William, now gave himself to prayer and reading the scriptures. 
 He sent for all within his reach whom he had offended, or who had 
 offended him. Freely forgave, and was freely forgiven Twq, three, 
 and four months the disease spared him- but he found little com- 
 fort. At the beginning of the fifth he found peace ; rejoiced for a 
 month more, preached powerfully to all who came to his bedside, and 
 with his last breath cried, •' Mother, receive thy sou I" and died.