THE LOFTY STUDY.
Some time after Nat donned the bobbin boy's suit, he proposed to Charlie
to come over and spend his evenings with him for mutual improvement.
"I have a nice place to read and study all by myself," said he, "and I
want to talk over some subjects we read about with you. Besides, what do
you say to studying mathematics together a portion of the time? I think
we can get along about as well in this branch as we could to have a
teacher."
"_I_ should like it first rate," answered Charlie. "Mathematics is your
hobby, and I think I can make good improvement under your tuition."
"I don't propose to teach, sir," added Nat, "but to learn. I will get
what I can out of you, and you may get what you can out of me. That is
fair, I am sure. You will get what you can out of me just as cheap as I
get what I can out of you. It will not be a very expensive school as you
see."
"Agreed," said Charlie. "I will be at your house this evening by the
time you are ready for me."
Charlie was true to his engagement, and by the time Nat was ready to
ascend to his study, a rap announced his arrival. With lamp in hand, Nat
led the way up two flights of stairs, and introduced Charlie into the
attic, saying,
"This is my study. I have permission to use this for a sanctum as long
as I please."
"It is a lofty one, surely," responded Charlie. "You can't get up much
higher in the world if you try."
"When we get into astronomy, all we shall have to do will be to bore a
hole through the roof to make our observations. Could any thing be more
convenient?"
The reader need not smile at Nat's study. It was better than the first
one that the renowned Dr. John Kitto had. Like Nat's, Kitto's first
study was in his father's attic, which was only seven feet long and four
feet wide. Here a two-legged table, made by his grandfather forty years
before, an old chest in which he kept his clothes and stationery, and a
chair that was a very good match for the table, together with what would
be called a bed by a person who had nothing better, constituted the
furniture. Also, the time-honored St. Pierre was worse off even when he
wrote his celebrated "Studies of Nature." His study was a garret, less
capacious than that which Nat occupied, and there he spent four years of
his life in the most laborious study.
Night after night Nat and Charlie met in the aforesaid attic, to read,
study mathematics, and discuss the subjects of the volumes which they
read. They made very commendable progress in mathematics, and probably
kept in advance of their companions who were in school. Among the
characters who were discussed by them, none received more attention than
Dr. Franklin and Patrick Henry.
"Which of these characters do you like best?" inquired Charlie one
evening.
"I suppose that Dr. Franklin would be considered the best model; but
such eloquence as that of Patrick Henry must have been grand. Dr.
Franklin was not much of a speaker, though what he said was sound and
good."
"And Patrick Henry was a lazy fellow when he was young," added Charlie.
"You remember that his father set him up in business two or three times,
and he failed because he was too shiftless to attend to it."
"Very true; and he suffered all through life on account of not having
formed habits of industry, economy and application. It shows what a
splendid man he might have made, if he had reduced Franklin's rules to
practice."
"Let us read over those rules of Franklin again," said Charlie. "You
copied them, I believe."
Nat took up a paper, on which the rules were penned in a handsome hand,
and proceeded to the following:
1. "TEMPERANCE.--Eat not to dulness; drink not to elevation.
2. SILENCE.--Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself;
avoid trifling conversation.
3. ORDER.--Let all your things have their places; let each part
of your business have its time.
4. RESOLUTION.--- Resolve to perform what you ought; perform
without fail what you resolve.
5. FRUGALITY.--Make no expense but to do good to others or
yourself; that is, waste nothing.
6. INDUSTRY.--Lose no time; be always employed in something
useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.
7. SINCERITY.--Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and
justly; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
8. JUSTICE.--Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the
benefits that are your duty.
9. MODERATION.--Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries as
much as you think they deserve.
10. CLEANLINESS.--Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes,
or habitation.
11. TRANQUILLITY.--Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents
common or unavoidable.
12. HUMILITY.--Imitate Jesus and Socrates."
"There is scarcely one of those rules that Patrick Henry observed in
his youth," said Charlie. "After he got to be a man grown, and his
friends were all out of patience with him, and he was absolutely
compelled to do something, or starve, then he began to apply himself."
"Yes; and what a commotion he made!" responded Nat. "That first plea of
his against the clergy of Virginia on the tobacco Act, when he won the
case against fearful odds, and the spectators were so excited by his
oratory that they carried him out of the court room on their shoulders,
is the best thing that I ever read of any orator. It was not his
learning nor his argument, but his eloquence that gave this power over
his hearers."
"And it was just the reverse with Dr. Franklin," said Charlie. "It was
his wisdom, solid common sense, and worth of character, that enabled him
to carry his points, and that I think is far more valuable."
"I learned one thing," said Nat, "from the life of Patrick Henry, which
I never knew before, that he owed his final success more to his close
observation of men and things than to the study of books. He learned
something from every thing he saw and heard. Eye-gate and ear-gate were
always open. He observed his companions closely when he was young, and
told stories to witness the different feelings they would awaken in the
hearts of different associates. In fact, he did not learn near so much
from books as he did from men. And afterwards, when he had law students
to instruct, one of his lessons was, 'study men and not books.'"
"Well, Nat, you are something like him," said Charlie, smiling. "You are
always seeing some thing to learn, where I should never think of
looking."
"Precious little like him," responded Nat, "but I intend to profit in
future by what I learned from Patrick Henry's life."
"I mean just as I say, Nat, truly, you are like him now, a little. Last
summer you was determined to know why the water was warmer in windy
weather than it was in a calm; and I believe you found out before we
went in a swimming the next time. And as for studying men, you are
always up to that. I don't believe there is an operative in the factory
whose qualities you have not settled in your own mind. You learned more
of that fellow they turned away, by looking at him, than others found
out by talking with him."
It was true that Nat was thus accustomed to observe and inquire into the
_whys_ and _wherefores_ of things. For this reason he was never
satisfied with a lesson until he understood it, unless we except the
study of grammar. He formed his opinions of all his associates, and knew
one to be selfish, another to be ill-tempered, another generous, and so
on. He was probably attracted by Patrick Henry's study of men, on
account of this disposition in himself, although he was not altogether
conscious of it. But this quality enabled him to learn much that
otherwise he would not have known. For when he was not reading a book,
men, women, and children were around him, and many events were
transpiring, all of which he could study. Thus he found teachers
everywhere, and books everywhere, not indeed such books as are used in
schools or fill the shelves of libraries, but such as are furnished in
the shape of incidents, and such as are bound up in flesh and bones. He
could read the latter while he was carrying bobbins in the factory, and
walking the streets, or going to meeting. In this way he would be
learning, learning, learning, when other boys were making no progress at
all.
Shakspeare, the world's great dramatist, must have been indebted to this
faculty of observation, far more than to books and human teachers, for
his inimitable power of delineating human nature. He was the son of a
poor man, who could not read nor write, according to reports, and he
went to London to live, where he held horses for gentlemen who visited
the theatre, receiving small remuneration for his labor. From holding
horses outside, he came to be a waiter upon the actors within, where he
must have been a very close observer of what was said and done; for his
brilliant career began from that hour, and he went on from step to step
until he produced the most masterly dramatic works, such as the world
will not let die. There is no doubt that he was a born poet, but it was
his faculty to read men and things that at last waked the dormant powers
of the poet into life. He saw, investigated, understood, mastered, and
finally applied every particle of information acquired to the work that
won him immortal fame.
"Nat, you are the best penman in the mill," said Dr. Holt to him one
day, as his attention was called to a specimen of his handwriting.
"Where did you learn to write so well?"
"At school, sir," was his laconic reply.
"But how is it that you learn to write so much better at school than the
other boys?"
"I don't know, sir!" and he never said a more truthful thing than he did
in this reply. For really he did not know how it was. He did not try
very hard to be a good penman. He did many other things well, which did
not cost him very much effort. It was easy for him to get the "knack" of
holding his pen and cutting letters. He would do it with an ease and
grace that we can only describe by saying it was Nat-like. It is another
instance, also, of the advantage of that principle or habit, which he
early cultivated, of _doing things well_. As one of his companions said,
"He can turn his hand to any thing."
One evening in October, when the harvest moon was emphatically "the
empress of the night," and lads and lasses thought it was just the
season for mirth and frolic, the boys received an invitation to a party
on the following evening.
"Shall you go?" inquired Charlie, when they were in the attic study.
"I should like to go, but I hardly think I shall. I want to finish this
book, and I can read half of it in the time I should spend at the
party."
"As little time as we get to study," added Charlie, "is worth all we can
make of it; and Dr. Franklin says in those rules, 'lose no time.' I
shall not go."
"I don't think that all time spent in such a social way can be called
'lost,' for it is good for a person to go to such places sometimes. But
I think I shall decide with you _not to go_. I suppose that some of the
fellows will turn up their noses, and call us 'literary gentlemen,' as
Oliver did the other day."
"Yes; and Sam said to me yesterday as I met him when I was going home to
dinner, 'fore I'd work in the factory, Charlie, and never know any
thing. You look as if you come out of a cotton-bale. I'll bet if your
father should plant you, you'd come up cotton,' and a whole mess of
lingo besides."
"And what did you say to him?" asked Nat.
"Not much of any thing. I just said, 'if I don't look quite as well as
you do, I think I know how to behave as well,' and passed on."
That Nat met with a good many discouraging circumstances, must not be
denied. It was trying to him occasionally to see other boys situated
much more favorably, having enough and to spare; and now and then a
fling, such as the foregoing, harrowed up his feelings somewhat. He was
obliged to forego the pleasure of many social gatherings, also, in order
to get time to study. Sometimes he went, and usually enjoyed himself
well, but often, as in the case just cited, he denied himself an
evening's pleasure for the sake of reading.
About this time, when he felt tried by his circumstances, he said to his
mother,
"I don't know much, and I never shall."
"You haven't had an opportunity to know much yet," answered his mother.
"If you continue to improve your time as you have done, I think you will
be on a par with most of the boys."
"But poor boys have not so good a chance to stand well, even if they
have the same advantages, as the sons of the rich."
"I am not so sure of that," replied his mother. "I know that money is
thought too much of in these days, and that it sometimes gives a person
high position when he does not deserve it. But, as a general thing, I
think that character will be respected; and the poorest boy can have a
good character. Was not that true of all the good men you have been
reading about?"
Nat was obliged to confess that it was, and the conversation with his
mother encouraged him, so that he went to his reading that evening, with
as much pluck as ever. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know;
and the faster he advanced, the higher he resolved to ascend.