LITTLE PAUL.
"You have won the race, Frank, and I congratulate you," said Tony
Weston, as the Butterfly came alongside the Zephyr.
"Thank you, Tony; that is noble and generous," replied Frank.
"But it is the feeling in our club--isn't it, fellows?"
"Ay, ay, that it is!" shouted Little Paul. "Let us give them three
cheers, to show the folks on shore that there are no hard feelings."
The cheers were given lustily--at least, as lustily as the exhausted
condition of the Butterflies would permit. Each member of the defeated
club seemed to feel it his duty to banish even the semblance of envy;
and it was pleasant to observe how admirably they succeeded.
I do not wish my young readers to suppose that Tony's crew felt no
disappointment at the result; only that there were no hard feelings, no
petty jealousy. They had confidently expected to win the race, even up
to the last quarter of a mile of the course; and to have that hope
suddenly dashed down, to be beaten when they felt sure of being the
victors, was regarded as no trivial misfortune. But so thoroughly had
Tony schooled them in the necessity of keeping down any ill will, that
I am sure there was not a hard feeling in the club. Perhaps they
displayed more disinterestedness in their conduct after the race than
they really felt. If they did, it was no great harm, for their motives
were good, and they were all struggling to feel what their words and
their actions expressed.
"Zephyr, ahoy!" hailed Mr. Hyde, from the Sylph.
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"The prize is ready for the winner."
The oars were dropped into the water again, and the Zephyr pulled up to
the judges' boat.
"You have won the prize handsomely, Frank, and it affords me great
pleasure to present it to you," said Mr. Hyde, as he handed him a purse
containing the prize. "After the noble expressions of kindness on the
part of your rival, I am sure the award will awaken no feeling of
exultation in the minds of the Zephyrs, and none of envy in the
Butterflies. I congratulate you on your victory."
Frank bowed, and thanked the schoolmaster for his hopeful words; and the
Butterflies gave three cheers again as he took the prize. The Zephyr was
then brought alongside her late rival.
"Starboard oars--up!" said Frank.
"Larboard oars--up!" added Tony.
"What now, I wonder?" queried Fred Harper.
"Forward oarsman, step aboard the Butterfly," continued Frank.
"Forward oarsman, step aboard the Zephyr," said Tony.
Then the next member in each boat was passed over to the other, and so
on, till the whole starboard side of the Zephyr was manned by
Butterflies, and the larboard side of the Butterfly by Zephyrs.
"Ready--up!" said the coxswains, as they proceeded to get under way
again.
Thus, with the two clubs fraternally mingled, they slowly pulled towards
the nearest shore, while the band played its sweetest strains. The
spectators still lingered; and as the boats neared the land, they were
greeted with repeated cheers. Then, side by side, they pulled slowly
along the shore, within a few rods of the lake's bank, till they reach
the Butterflies' house, where they all landed.
And thus ended the famous boat race, over which the boys had been
thinking by day and dreaming by night for several weeks. The occasion
had passed; and if it was productive of any evil effects in the minds of
those who engaged in it, they were more than balanced by the excellent
discipline it afforded. They had learned to look without envy upon those
whom superior skill or good fortune had favored, and to feel kindly
towards those over whom they had won a victory. It was a lesson which
they would all need in the great world, where many a race is run, and
where the conqueror is not always gentle towards the conquered--where
defeat generates ill-will, envy, and hatred.
"A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another," said
Jesus--not only love one another when the sky is clear, and the waters
are smooth, but when the clouds threaten, and the stormy sea lashes with
its fury; not only when the arm of friendship and kindness holds us up,
but when all hearts seem cold, when all hands are closed, and all faces
frown upon us. It was this divine command that the circumstances of the
boat race tended to exemplify; and I am sure that both the conquerors
and the conquered were better prepared for the duty of life than if they
had had no such experience.
I do not mean to say that every boat race is a good thing, most
especially when it is made to be a gambling speculation by staking money
on the result--only that this one was, because those who conducted it
made it subservient to the moral progress of the boys.
"Well, Frank, I am glad you won the race," said Tony, with a smile which
testified to his sincerity. "Fortune favored us at the bridge, and gave
us the opportunity of winning the honors."
"And the profits too, Tony. Fifty dollars is nothing to us now," added
Fred, with a laugh.
"Thank you, Tony," replied Frank. "You are so noble that you almost make
me regret we won. But, my dear fellow, you have won a greater victory in
your own heart. I can envy you the possession of such noble feelings."
"Pooh, Frank!"
"I am sure I don't value the victory, because it has been won over you."
"We trained ourselves to _feel right_ about the matter whichever way the
race went."
"Your heart is so near right that you don't need much training. But it
is time for us to return home."
"How about that picnic on the first of May?"
"My father has consented to it."
"So have our folks; we will have a glorious time of it. On Saturday
afternoon, if you say so we will visit Center Island, and set the May
pole."
"Agreed."
"But, Frank, school keeps--don't it?"
"Whew! does it?"
"It did last year; but the committee have talked of giving us the day. I
hope they will. Ask your father; he is one of them."
"I will. We can get the point settled before Saturday."
"I guess so."
"All aboard!"
The Zephyrs hastened on board, and in a few minutes were out of sight.
The Butterfly was hauled into her berth, everything was made "snug" and
tidy, and the boys hastened to their several homes. Of course it was not
easy for them to drive out of their minds the exciting events of the
day, and while all of them, except Tony, were sorry they had lost the
race, they had much to console them. They had won a victory over
themselves; and the consciousness of this triumph compensated for their
disappointment. Each of them, adopting the sentiment of their heroic
young leader, thought what a good fellow Frank Sedley was, and _tried_
to feel glad that he had won.
There was one of them, however, who did not think much about it after he
separated from his companions. Other considerations claimed his
attention; and before he reached his humble home, the race was banished
from his mind. He had a sick father, and the family had hard work to get
along. This was Little Paul.
His mother insisted upon sending him to school while there was anything
left to procure the necessaries of life; and as there was little for him
to do at home, he was allowed to join the club, because his parents knew
how much he loved the sports on the lake, and that nothing but good
influences would be exerted upon him in the association.
Paul Munroe was a good boy, in every sense of the word; and though he
had never been able to do much for his parents, they regarded him none
the less as one of their choicest blessings. As Tony expressed it,
Little Paul's heart was in the right place; and it was a big heart, full
of warm blood.
His father sat in an easy-chair by the kitchen stove as he entered, and
a smile played upon his pale blue lips as his eyes met the glance of his
loving son.
"Well, Paul, did you win the race?" he asked, in feeble tones.
"No, father; the Zephyrs beat. Frank Sedley rather outgeneraled Tony,
and his crew were more used to pulling than we. But Frank is a
first-rate fellow."
"Isn't Tony?"
"That he is! They are both first-rate fellows; I don't know where there
are two other such fellows in the world."
"You are right, Paul; they are good boys, and we shall be sorry to take
you away from them."
Little Paul looked inquiringly at his father. He had more than once
begged to be allowed to work in the Rippleton factories, that he might
earn something towards supporting the family; but his parents would
never consent to take him away from school and confine him in the noisy,
dusty rooms of the mills. His father's words suggested the idea that
they had consented to his request, and that he was to be allowed to work
for a living.
"'Squire Chase has been here to-day," added Mr. Munroe, sadly.
"Has he? What did he say?" asked Paul, a shade of anxiety gathering upon
his fine, manly face.
"We must leave our house, my son," replied the father, with a sigh.
"Won't he wait?"
"No."
"How did he act while he was here?"
"He was very harsh and unfeeling."
"The villain!" exclaimed Paul, with emphasis, as his check reddened with
indignation.
"He is a hard man, Paul; but reproaches are of no use. The note is due
on the first of May; I cannot pay it, so we must leave the house."
"Where are we to go, father?"
"Your grandfather, who has a large farm in Maine, has written for me to
come there; and your mother and I have decided to go."
Paul looked sad at the thought of leaving the pleasant scenes of his
early life, and bidding farewell to his cherished friends; but there was
no help for it, and he cheerfully yielded to the necessity. It was of no
use to think of moving the heart of 'Squire Chase--it was cold, hard,
and impenetrable. He was a close-fisted lawyer, who had made a handsome
fortune in the city by taking advantage of the distresses of others, and
it was not likely that he, having thus conquered all the nobler
impulses of his nature, would have any sympathy for Mr. Munroe in his
unfortunate condition.
The poor man had bought the little place he occupied a few years before
for seven hundred dollars--paying two hundred down, and giving his note,
secured by a mortgage, for the rest. The person of whom he had purchased
the place, whose lands joined it, had sold his estate to 'Squire Chase,
to whom, also, he had transferred the mortgage. The retired lawyer was
not content to remain quiet in his new home, and there repent of his
many sins, but immediately got up an immense land speculation, by which
he hoped to build a village on his grounds, and thus make another
fortune.
Mr. Munroe's little place was in his way. He wanted to run a road over
the spot where the house was located, and had proposed to buy it and the
land upon which it stood. He offered seven hundred and fifty dollars for
it; but it was now worth nine hundred, and Mr. Munroe refused the offer.
The 'Squire was angry at the refusal, and from that time used all the
means in his power to persecute his poor neighbor.
Then sickness paralyzed the arm of Mr. Munroe, and he could no longer
work. The money he had saved to pay the note when it should become due
was expended in supporting his family. With utter ruin staring him full
in the face, he sent for 'Squire Chase, and consented to his offer; but
the malicious wretch would not give even that now; and the land was so
situated as to be of but little value except to the owner of the Chase
estate. The 'Squire was a bad neighbor, and no one wanted to get near
him; so that Mr. Munroe could not sell to any other person.
The crafty lawyer knew that the poor man was fully in his power, and he
determined to punish him, even to his ruin. He hated him because he was
an honest, good man; because his life, even in his humbler sphere, was a
constant reproach to him. The note would be due on the first of May,
and he had determined to take possession in virtue of the mortgage.
Poor Paul shed many bitter tears upon his pillow that night; and from
the depths of his gentle heart he prayed that God would be very near to
his father and mother in the trials and sorrows that were before them.