DOWNWARD PROGRESS
The next day was Saturday. Oscar was off most of the day with his
comrades, among whom he was quite a lion for the time. During one of
the brief intervals that he was in the house, his mother said some
thing about his going to school on Monday.
"O dear, I don't want to go to school again this term," said Oscar.
"What's the use? Why, it 's only four or five weeks before the term
will be through."
"I know that," replied his mother, "but your father is very anxious
that you should get into the High School, and he thinks you can do it
if you finish up this term."
"I can't do it--I 've got all behindhand with my studies," said Oscar.
"O yes, you can if you try," replied his mother. "You might have got
into the High School last year if you had studied a little harder. You
were almost qualified then, and I'm sure you ought to be now. If you
find you are behind your class in your lessons, you must study so much
the harder, and you 'll get up with them by-and-bye."
"But I don't believe it will do me any good to be confined in the
school-room," continued Oscar. "I don't think I'm so strong as I was
before I was sick."
"Well," said Mrs. Preston, "when you 're sick you need not go to
school; but I guess there 's no danger of your staying at home for that
reason, at present. You never looked better in your life than you do
now."
Oscar tried his pleas again in the evening with his father, but with
quite as poor success. He saw that it was fully determined that he
should resume his seat at school, and he reluctantly submitted to this
decision. When Monday morning came, he proceeded to school, but found
that his old desk was in possession of another boy. The head teacher
in Oscar's department soon appeared, and seemed quite glad to see him
once more. He appointed Oscar a new seat, and told him he hoped he
would study so diligently as to make up for lost time.
The hopes of Oscar's teacher and parents were doomed to disappointment.
It was soon evident that he cared less about his lessons than ever. He
was behind his class, and instead of redoubling his efforts to get up
with them, he became discouraged and indifferent. His recitations were
seldom perfect, and often they were utter failures. His teachers
coaxed, and encouraged, and ridiculed, and frowned, and punished, all
in vain. One day, after Oscar had blundered worse than usual, the
teacher who was hearing the recitation said to him, in a despairing
tone:
"You remind me, Oscar, of what one of the old Roman emperors said to an
archer who shot his arrows a whole day, and never once hit the mark.
He told him he had a most wonderful talent for missing. So I must say
of you--you 've got the greatest talent for missing of any boy I know."
Seeing a smile on the faces of Oscar's classmates, he added:
"But this is too sober a matter to make light of. If you could not get
your lessons, it would be a different matter; but I know, and you know,
that this is not the trouble. You are quick enough to learn and to
understand, when you have a mind to be. If you would only try to get
your lessons as hard as the other boys do, you would n't be at the foot
of the class a great while. If you keep on in this way, you will see
your folly as plainly as I see it now, before you are many years older."
This admonition had little effect upon Oscar. When school was
dismissed, a few minutes after, he rushed out with as light a step as
any of his comrades, and his gay laugh was heard as soon as he reached
the entry. In the general scramble for caps, one had fallen from its
peg, and instead of replacing it, two or three of the boys were making
a football of it. Oscar joined the sport, and gave the cap a kick that
sent it part of the way down stairs. A moment after, he met Willie
Davenport returning with it.
"Halloo, Whistler, that is n't your cap, is it?" inquired Oscar.
"No, but it's _somebody's_," said the good-hearted boy, as he brushed
off the dust, and put the lining back into its place. He was about
hanging it up, when Benny Wright appeared, and claimed it as his
property.
Had Oscar known that the cap was Benny's, he would not have made a
foot-ball of it. He remembered the kind epistle he received, when
sick, and the amusement it afforded him, when amusements were scarce.
Since his recovery, he had treated Benny with much more consideration
than before, and quite a kindly feeling had sprung up between them.
Oscar's inattention to his studies was not his only fault at school.
His general behavior was worse than it had ever been before. Vexed
that he was compelled to return to school so near the expiration of the
term, it seemed as though he was determined to make as little
improvement in his studies, and as much trouble for his teachers, as he
could. He not only idled away his own time, but he disturbed other
boys who were disposed to study. He was repeatedly reproved and
punished, but reproof and punishment did no good; on the contrary, they
seemed rather to make him worse. The teachers at length gave him up as
incorrigible, and consoled themselves with the thought that his
connection with the school would cease in two or three weeks, at which
time his class would graduate. They still aimed to keep him in check,
during school hours, but they ceased spending their time and breath in
trying to bring about a reformation in his conduct.
One day as the scholars were engaged in writing, the master, while
passing along among the boys, and inspecting their writing-books,
noticed that somebody had been spitting what appeared to be tobacco
juice, near Oscar's seat. This was a violation of the rules of the
school, and the teacher concluded not to let it pass unnoticed. Having
no doubt, from several circumstances, that Oscar was the offender, he
said to him:
"Oscar, what are you chewing tobacco in school for, and spitting the
juice on the floor?"
"I have n't chewed any tobacco this afternoon," replied Oscar.
"What is it, then, that you have been spitting upon the floor?"
inquired the teacher.
"I have n't spit upon the floor," replied Oscar.
"Who did that?" continued the teacher, pointing to the puddle upon the
floor.
"I don't know," said Oscar; "it was there when I took my seat."
It was possible that Oscar told the truth, but the teacher had his
doubts. He might perhaps, have settled the matter at once by putting a
question to one or two of the boys who sat near the supposed offender
but as he always avoided the system of making one boy inform against
another, when he could properly do so, he took another course. He told
Oscar, if he had any tobacco in his mouth, or anywhere about his
person, to give it up to him. Oscar declared that he had none.
"Let me look into your mouth," said the teacher.
Oscar had a small piece of the weed in his mouth, which he tucked
behind his upper lip with his tongue, and then opened his mouth. The
teacher of course saw nothing but what belonged there. He _smelt_
something, however, that left him no longer in doubt that Oscar had
told a falsehood.
"I can't see your cud, but I can smell it plain enough," said the
master; "and I 'll examine your pockets, if you please."
Oscar was far from pleased with this proposition, and tried to prevent
its being carried into effect. The master, however, easily overcame
the difficulties he put in the way, and running his hand into the
pocket which he seemed most anxious to defend, brought forth a piece of
tobacco large enough to kill a horse!
"What is that?" he inquired, holding the contraband article before
Oscar.
Oscar neither looked at it nor made any reply.
"And you are the boy who said a moment ago that you had no tobacco
about you," continued the master "I declare I don't know what to do
with you. I have said and done all that I can to make a better boy of
you, and now I shall report this matter to your father, and let him
settle it with you. But I want you to remember one thing. When you
tell me a lie, you break God's law, and not mine; and you can't settle
the matter in full with me, or any other human being."
The teacher then threw the piece of tobacco out of the open window, and
taking Oscar's writing-book, told him he would set a new copy for him.
He soon returned, with the following line written upon the top of a
clean page:
"_Lying lips are abomination to the Lord._"
As Oscar wrote this fearful sentence over and over again, he could not
fully escape the force of its meaning. It reminded him of his feelings
during his recent illness, when at times the terrible thought that his
sickness might possibly be unto death intruded upon his mind. But
thoughts of God, and death, and a future world, were alike unpleasant
to him, and he banished them as speedily as possible.
During the afternoon, the principal of the school wrote a letter to Mr.
Preston, informing him of Oscar's indolence and bad conduct, and
referring particularly to the incident that had just occurred. By way
of offset to the complaint, he spoke in very high terms of Ralph, who
attended the same school, but was in another department and another
room. He sent the letter by Ralph, but told him not to let Oscar know
anything about it. Ralph had some suspicions of the nature of the
letter, but he did his errand faithfully, going directly from school to
his father's store.
Mr. Preston was at first very much irritated by the teacher's
complaints of Oscar's misconduct; and could he have taken the culprit
in hand at the time, he would probably have handled him rather roughly.
But several days elapsed before he found it convenient to talk with
Oscar about the matter, and by this time his passion had subsided into
anxiety and sorrow. He showed Oscar the letter, in which he, the
eldest son, was severely censured, and his little brother was so highly
commended. With tears in his eyes, he warned him of the dangers before
him, and entreated him to change his course.
Oscar had never seen his father exhibit so much emotion before.
Usually, on such occasions, he was stern, if not passionate; more ready
to threaten and punish than to appeal to the heart and conscience.
Now, all this was changed, and sorrow seemed to have taken the place of
anger. Oscar was somewhat affected by this unusual manifestation of
parental anxiety. He was pretty well hardened against scoldings and
threatenings, but he did not know how to meet this new form of rebuke.
He tried to conceal his feelings, however, and preserved a sullen
silence throughout the interview.
This affair made no abiding impression upon Oscar. In a day or two it
was forgotten, and the slight compunctions he felt had entirely
disappeared. But the schoolmaster's complaint was soon followed by
another that was quite as unpleasant. As Mrs. Preston was sitting at
her sewing, one day, the door suddenly opened, and in came Bridget, the
servant girl, with a face as red as rage and a hot fire could make it.
"I'll be goin' off this night, ma'am--I'll pack me chist, and not stop
here any longer at all," said Bridget, in a tone that betokened her
anger.
"Going off--what do you mean? You don't say you 're going to leave us
so suddenly, Biddy?" inquired Mrs. Preston, with surprise.
"Yes, that I be," replied Bridget, very decidedly; "I 'll not be after
staying in the same house with that big, ugly b'y, another day."
"Who, Oscar? What has he done now?" inquired Mrs. Preston.
"He's did nothing but bother the life out o' me ivery day since he coom
back, that's jist all he 's did," replied Biddy. "Jist now, ma'am, he
slopped over a hull basin o' dirty whater right on to the clane floor,
and thin laffed at me, and sassed me, and called me, all sorts o' bad
names--the little sass-box! It's not the like o' Bridget Mullikin that
'll put up with his dirty impidence another day. I 'd like to live
with ye, ma'am, and Mister Pristen, good, nice man that he is but I
can't stop to be trated like a dog by that sassy b'y."
"I 'll go and see what he has been about," said Mrs. Preston, laying
down her work.
When they reached the kitchen, Oscar was not to be found. There was
the puddle of dirty water upon the floor, however, and so far Bridget's
story was corroborated. As she proceeded to wipe it up, she continued
to speak in not very complimentary terms of the "ugly b'y," as she
delighted to call Oscar. It was in vain that Mrs. Preston attempted to
soothe her ruffled spirits. She refused to be comforted, and insisted
upon taking her departure from the house that night.
Oscar did not make his appearance again until late in the afternoon.
When his mother called him to account for his treatment of Bridget, he
denied the greater part of her story. He said that the basin of water
was standing upon the floor, and that he accidentally hit it with his
foot, and upset it. He denied that he called her bad names or was
impudent, but he admitted that he laughed, to see her so angry. He
also complained that she was as "cross as Bedlam" to him, and "jawed"
him whenever he entered the kitchen.
Mrs. Preston, puzzled by these contradictory stories, brought the two
contending parties face to face, in hope of either eliciting the truth
or effecting a treaty of peace between them. She failed in both
objects, however. Bridget not only adhered to her first statement, but
boldly accused Oscar of sundry other misdeeds that had come up in
recollection since the first outbreak; while Oscar, on the other hand,
stoutly denied most of her charges, and insisted that she was
ill-natured, and irritated him in every possible way. The contest
finally waxed so warm between them that Mrs. Preston was obliged to
interpose, and to withdraw with Oscar.
Mrs. Preston never ascertained the real facts in the case. Candor
compels me to say that Bridget's complaints were essentially true.
Knowing the poor Irish girl's weak side (her quick temper), Oscar had
for some time taxed his ingenuity to torment her, for the sake of
hearing her "sputter," as he termed it. He was not only impudent, and
applied offensive names to her, but sometimes he purposely put her to
extra labor and trouble by misplacing articles, making dirt about the
house, &c. These things were a sad annoyance to Bridget, and she soon
came to regard Oscar as "the plague of her life," and treated him
accordingly. He did very wrong to annoy her in this way; and she was
foolish to take so much notice of his hectoring. The ill-will thus
established between them grew day by day, until it resulted in the open
rupture just described. But Mrs. Preston did not give full credit to
Bridget's story. She believed the difficulty was owing quite as much
to Biddy's irritable temper and ignorance as to Oscar's impudence, and
consequently the latter escaped with a slight reprimand. She also
prevailed upon Bridget to remain with them the week out, thinking she
would by that time get over her anger. But, to the surprise of all,
when Saturday night came, Bridget took her departure. She had got
another "place," where she would be out of the reach of the provoking
Oscar.
The week for the annual examination of the public schools soon arrived.
Oscar begged hard, but in vain, for permission to absent himself, on
the eventful day that the grave committee and other distinguished
visitors were to sit in judgment upon the condition of the school to
which he belonged. But though he was present, he did not appear to
much advantage among the "bright particular stars" of the day; and as
one and another of the flower of his class were called out, to receive
the "Franklin medals," his name was not heard, and no silken ribbon,
with silver medal attached, was hung around his neck.
The same day, in obedience to the orders of his father, but very much
against his own inclination, Oscar applied to the head master for the
certificate required of boys who present themselves for admission to
the High School. The teacher seemed a little puzzled what reply to
make. At length he said:
"Do you know what kind of a certificate is required?"
"Yes, sir," replied Oscar, who had read the advertisement in the paper
that morning.
"The certificate must say that you are a boy of good character, and
that your teacher believes you are qualified for admission to the High
School," continued the master. "Now I want to ask you if you think I
can honestly say that of you?"
Oscar hung his head in shame, but made no reply. It had turned out
just as he feared it would.
"It is very hard to refuse such a request," continued the teacher;
"but, really, if I should give you the certificate, I am afraid it
would do you no good, while it might do me some harm, for I don't like
to have my scholars rejected. I cannot honestly say that I think you
are qualified for the High School; and besides your conduct has been
such of late, that I do not see how I could give you a very high
recommendation. I would advise you to give up the idea of applying for
admission. I am very sorry it is so, but that will not help the
matter."
What could Oscar say to this? He said nothing, but his looks betrayed
the deep mortification he felt, and moved his teacher to pity, while he
denied his request. Nor was this the end of Oscar's troubles. He had
got to face his father, and to confess to him that he was found
unworthy even to be a candidate for the school for which he had so long
been preparing. In doing this, he smoothed over the matter as well as
he could; but at best it was a bitter thing to him, and thus he began
to experience some of the sad but natural effects of his own misconduct.