CHAPTER XIV.

_Bard_. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!

_Nym_. Pray thee, corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot; and

for mine own part, I have not a case of lives: the humour of

it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of it.

KING HENRY V.

"To Mr. Winthrop Landholm, Shagarack College.

"Dec. 10, 1810.

"My dear son,

"We received yours of the third, per Mr. Underhill, which was

very gratifying to your mother and myself, as also Will's of

the same date. We cannot help wishing we could hear a little

oftener, as these are the first we have had for several weeks.

But we remember your occupations, and I assure you make due

allowances; yet we cannot help thinking a little more time

might be given to pa and ma. This is a burdensome world, and

every one must bear their own burdens; yet I think it must be

conceded it is right for every individual to do what may be in

his power towards making the lot of others pleasanter. This I

am sure you believe, for you act upon it; and you know that

nothing so lightens our load as to know that Will and Governor

are doing well. It is a world of uncertainties; and we cannot

know this unless you will tell us.

"My dear sons, I do not mean to chide you, and I have said

more on this subject than I had any intention to do. But it is

very natural, when a subject lies so near the heart, that I

should exceed the allotted bounds.

"Winthrop, your mother is afraid, from something in Will's

letter, that you are in want of an overcoat. Tell us if you

are, and we will do our best to endeavour to supply the

deficiency. I thought you had one; but I suppose it must be

pretty old by this time. My dear son, we have all one

interest; if you want anything, let us know, and if it _can_ be

had you know enough of us to know you shall not want it. We

have not much to spare certainly, but necessaries we will try

to procure; and so long as we need not groan about the present

it is not my way to grumble about the future. We shall get

along, somehow, I trust.

"I shall send this by post, as I do not know of any

opportunity, and do not think it best to wait for one."

"Your loving father,

"W. Landholm.

"Winthrop and Will."

"My dear boys,

"It is very late to-night, and I shall not have any time in

the morning, so must scratch a word as well as I can tonight --

you know my fingers are not very well accustomed to handling

the pen. It gives me the greatest pleasure I can have in this

world when I hear that you are getting along so well -- except

I could hear one other thing of you, -- and that would be a

pleasure beyond anything in this world. Let us know everything

you want -- and we will try to send it to you, and if we can't

we will all want it together. -- We are all well -- Winifred

mourns for you all the while, in spite of trying not to do it.

What the rest of us do is no matter. I shall send a box, if I

can, before New Year, with some cakes and apples -- write us

before that, in time, all you want.

Your mother."

This double letter, being duly put in the post according to

Mr. Landholm's promise, in the course of time and the post

came safe to the Shagarack post-office; from whence it was

drawn one evening by its owner, and carried to a little upper

room where Rufus sat, or rather stood, at his books. There was

not a great deal there beside Rufus and the books; a little

iron stove looked as if it disdained to make anybody

comfortable, and hinted that much persuasion was not tried

with it; a bed was in one corner, and a deal table in the

middle of the floor, at which Winthrop sat down and read his

letters.

He was longer over them than was necessary to read them, by a

good deal. So Rufus thought, and glanced at him sundry times,

though he did not think fit to interrupt him. He lifted his

head at last and passing them over coolly to Rufus, drew _his_

book near and opened his dictionary. He did not look up while

Rufus read, nor when after reading he began to walk with

thoughtful large strides up and down the little room.

"Governor!" said Rufus suddenly and without looking at him,

"sometimes I am half tempted to think I will take Mr. Haye's

offer."

"Did he make you an offer?"

"He said what was near enough to it."

"What tempts you, Will?"

"Poverty. It is only, after all, taking a short road instead

of a long one to the same end."

"The end of what?" said Winthrop.

"Of painstaking and struggling."

There was silence, during which Rufus continued his strides

through the room, and the leaves of Winthrop's books ever and

anon turned and rustled.

"What do you think of it?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

"I don't believe in drinking of a roiled stream because it

happens to be the first one you come to."

"Not if you are dry?"

"No, -- not unless everything else is, too."

"But merchandise is a very honourable pursuit," said Rufus,

walking and studying the floor.

"Certainly. -- Twelve feet is a good growth for dogwood, isn't

it?" said Winthrop gravely, looking up and meeting his cool

grey eye with that of his brother.

Rufus first stared, and then answered, and then burst into a

fit of laughter. Then he grew quite grave again and went on

walking up and down.

"The fact is," he said a little while after, -- "I don't know

exactly what I am fittest for."

"You would be fit for anything if you did," answered his

brother.

"Why?"

"You would be an uncommonly wise man."

"_You_ might be that with very little trouble, for you are the

fittest for everything of anybody I know."

Winthrop studied his books, and Rufus walked perseveringly.

"You hold to taking up law?"

"I will, when I begin it," said Winthrop.

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where will you take it up?"

"In Mannahatta."

"And then you will rise to the top of the tree!" said his

brother half admiringly, half sadly.

"That I may catch a glimpse of you in the top of some other

tree," said Winthrop.

"But this want of money is such a confounded drag!" said Rufus

after a few minutes.

"Let it drag you up hill, then. A loaded arrow flies best

against the wind."

"Winthrop, I wonder what you are made of!" said Rufus stopping

short and looking at him and his books. "The toughest, the

sturdiest --"

But Winthrop lifted up his face and gave his brother one of

those smiles, which were somewhat as if the sturdy young ash

to which he likened him had of a sudden put forth its flowers

and made one forget its strength in its beauty. Rufus stopped,

and smiled a little himself.

"My choice would be engineering," he said doubtfully.

"Stick to your choice," said Winthrop.

"That's a very good business for making money," Rufus went on,

beginning to walk again; -- "and there is a variety about it I

should like."

"Are you in correspondence with Mr. Haye?"

"No. Why?"

"You seem to be adopting his end of life."

"I tell you, Winthrop," said Rufus stopping short again,

"whatever else you may have is of very little consequence if

you haven't money with it! You may raise your head like Mont

Blanc, above the rest of the world; and if you have nothing to

shew but your eminence, people will look at you, and go and

live somewhere else."

"You don't see the snow yet, do you?" said Winthrop, so dryly

that Rufus laughed again, and drawing to him his book sat down

and left his brother to study in peace.

The peace was not of long lasting, for at the end of half or

three quarters of an hour Winthrop had another interruption.

The door opened briskly and there came in a young man, --

hardly that, -- a boy, but manly, well grown, fine and fresh

featured, all alive in spirits and intellect. He came in with

a rush, acknowledged Rufus's presence slightly, and drawing a

stool close by Winthrop, bent his head in yet closer

neighbourhood. The colloquy which followed was carried on half

under breath, on his part, but with great eagerness.

"Governor, I want you to go home with me Christmas."

"I can't, Bob."

"Why?"

Winthrop answered with soft whistling.

"Why?"

"I must work."

"You can work there."

"No I can't."

"Why not?"

"I must work here."

"You can work afterwards."

"Yes, I expect to."

"But Governor, what have you got to keep you?"

"Some old gentlemen who lived in learned times a great while

ago, are very pressing in their desires to be acquainted with

me -- one Plato, one Thucydides, and one Mr. Tacitus, for

instance."

"You'll see enough of them, Governor; -- you don't like them

better than me, do you?"

"Yes, Bob, -- I expect they'll do more for me than ever you

will."

"I'll do a great deal for you, Governor, -- I want you to come

with me to Coldstream -- I want you to see them all at home;

we'll have a good time. -- Come!" --

"How do you suppose that old heathen ever got hold of such a

thought as this?" -- said Winthrop composedly; and he read,

without minding his auditors --

"tis d'oiden, ei to zên men êi to katthanein,

to katthanein de zên ;" *

[* Bunyan used to say, "_The Latin I borrow_." I must follow so

illustrious an example and confess, _The Greek is lent_.]

"_Who knows if to live is not to die, and dying but to live_."

"I should think he had a bad time in this world," said Bob;

"and maybe he thought Apollo would make interest for his

verses in the land of shades."

"But Plato echoes the sentiment, -- look here, -- and he was no

believer in the old system. Where do you suppose he got his

light on the subject?"

"Out of a dark lantern. I say, Winthrop, I want light on my

subject -- Will you come to Coldstream?"

"I don't see any light that way, Bob; -- I must stick fast by

my dark lantern."

"Are you going to stay in Shagarack?"

"Yes."

"It's a deuced shame! --"

"What do you make of this sentence, Mr. Cool? --"

But Bob declined to construe, and took himself off, with a

hearty slap on Winthrop's shoulder, and a hearty shake of his

hand.

"He's so strong, there's no use in trying to fight him into

reason," he remarked to Rufus as he went off.

"What do you suppose Bob Cool would make of your Platonic

quotation?" said Rufus.

"What do you make of it?" said Winthrop after a slight pause.

"Eremitical philosophy! -- Do you admire it?"

"I was thinking mamma would," said Winthrop.

That year came to its end, not only the solar but the

collegiate. Rufus took his degree brilliantly; was loaded with

compliments; went to spend a while at home, and then went to

Mannahatta; to make some preparatory arrangements for entering

upon a piece of employment to which President Tuttle had

kindly opened him a way. Winthrop changed his form in the

grammar school for the Junior Greek class, which happened to

be left without any teacher by the removal of the Greek

professor to the headship of another College. To this charge

he proved himself fully competent. It made the same breaches

upon his time, and gave him rather more amends than his form

in the grammar school. And amid his various occupations,

Winthrop probably kept himself warm without a new overcoat;

for he had none.

It was difficult at home, by this time, to do more than make

ends meet. They hardly did that. The borrowed hundreds were of

necessity yet unpaid; there was interest on them that must be

kept down; and the failure of Rufus and Winthrop from the farm

duty told severely upon the profits of the farm; and that

after it had told upon the energies and strength of the whole

little family that were left behind to do all that was done.

There was never a complaint nor a regret, even to each other;

much less to those for whom they toiled; but often there _was_ a

shadowed look, a breath of weariness and care, that spoke from

husband to wife, from parent to child, and nerved -- or

unnerved them. Still, Rufus had graduated; he was a splendid

young man; all, as well as the parents' hearts, knew that; and

Winthrop, -- he was never thought of, their minds and speech

never went out to him, but the brows unbent, the lips relaxed,

and their eyes said that their hearts sat down to rest.

Winthrop? He never could do anything but well; he never had

since he was a child. He would take his degree now in a few

months and he would take it honourably; and then he would be

off to the great city -- that was said with a throe of pain and

joy! -- and there he would certainly rise to be the greatest of

all. To their eyes could he ever be anything else? But they

were as certain of it as Winthrop himself; and Winthrop was

not without his share of that quality which Dr. Johnson

declared to be the first requisite to great undertakings;

though to do him justice the matter always lay in his mind

without the use of comparatives or superlatives. And while

they sat round the fire talking of him, and of Rufus, the

images of their coming success quite displaced the images of

weary days and careful nights with which that success had been

bought.

It was not however to be quite so speedily attained as they

had looked for.

The time of examination came, and Winthrop passed through it,

as President Tuttle told his father, "as well as a man could;"

and took honours and distinctions with a calm matter-of-fact

manner, that somehow rather damped the ardour of

congratulation.

"He takes everything as if he had a right to it," observed a

gentleman of the company who had been making some flattering

speeches which seemed to hit no particular mark.

"I don't know who has a better right," said the President.

"He's not so brilliant as his brother," the gentleman went on.

"Do you think so? That can only have been because you did not

understand him," said the President equivocally. "He will

never flash in the pan, I promise you."

"But dang it, sir!" cried the other, "it _is_ a little

extraordinary to see two brothers, out of the same family, for

two years running, take the first honours over the head of the

whole College. What is a man to think, sir?"

"That the College has not graduated two young men with more

honour to herself and them in any two years of my Presidency,

sir. Allow me to introduce you to the fortunate father of

these young gentlemen -- Mr. Landholm."

This story Mr. Landholm used afterwards often to repeat, with

infinite delight and exultation.

Rufus was not at Shagarack at this time. Instead thereof came

a letter.

"Mannahatta, Aug. 26, 1812.

"My dear Governor,

"It has cost me more than I can tell you, that I have not been

able to witness your triumph. Nothing could hinder my sharing

it. I shared it even before I heard a word of it. I shared it

all last week, while the scenes were enacting; but when papa's

letter came, it made an old boy of me -- I would have thrown

off my hat and hurrahed, if I had not been afraid to trust

four walls with my feelings; and I finally took up with the

safer indulgence of some very sweet tears. I told you it cost

me a great deal to stay away from Shagarack. My sole reason

for staying was, that it would have cost me more to go. The

fact is, I had not the wherewithal -- a most stupid reason, but

for that very cause, a reason that you cannot argue with. I am

just clearing for the North -- but not, alas! your way -- and I

_could_ not take out of my little funds what would carry me to

Shagarack and back; and back I should have had to come. So I

have lost what would have been one of the rare joys of my

life. But I shall have another chance. -- This is but your

_first_ degree, Governor; -- your initial step towards great

things; and you are not one to lag by the way.

"As for me, I am off to the regions of wildness, to see what I

can do with the rocks and the hills of rude Nature -- or what

they will do with me, which is perhaps nearer the truth. Not

very inviting, after this gay and brilliant city, where

certainly the society is very bewitching. I have happened to

see a good deal, and some of the best of it. Mr. Haye has been

very attentive to me, and I believe would really like to renew

his old offer. He lives here _en prince_; with every thing to

make his house attractive _besides_ the two little princesses

who tenant it; and who make it I think the pleasantest house

in Mannahatta. _Your_ friend is amazingly improved, though she

is rather more of a Queen than a princess; but the other is

the most splendid little creature I ever saw. They were very

gracious to your humble servant. I have seen a good deal of

them and like them better and better. Herder is charming. He

has introduced me to a capital set -- men really worth knowing

-- they have also been very kind to me, and I have enjoyed them

greatly; -- but from all this I am obliged to break away, -- and

from you; for I have no more room. I will write you when I get

to the N. W. L.

"P. S. When you come hither, take up your quarters with my

landlord, George Inchbald -- cor. Beaver and Little South Sts.

He loves me and will welcome you. Inchbald is an Englishman,

with a heart larger than his means, and a very kind widowed

sister."

Winthrop read this letter gravely through, folded it up, and

took hold of the next business in hand.

He could not go yet to the great city. The future rising steps

to which Rufus looked forward so confidently, were yet far

away. He owed a bill at the tailor's; and had besides one or

two other little accounts unsettled, which it had been

impossible to avoid, and was now impossible to leave.

Therefore he must not leave Shagarack. The first thing to do

was to clear these hindrances from his way. So he entered his

name as law-reader at the little office of Mr. Shamminy, to

save time, and took a tutorship in the College to earn money.

He had the tutorship of the Junior Greek class, which his

father loved to tell he carried further than ever a class had

been carried before; but that was not all; he had a number of

other recitations to attend which left him, with the necessary

studies, scant time for reading law. That little was made the

most of and the year was gained.

All the year was needed to free himself from these cobweb

bindings that held him fast at Shagarack. Another Commencement

over, his debts paid, he went home; to make a little pause on

that landing-place of life's journey before taking his last

start from it.

Hills of the Shatemuc · 第 14 / 30 章