Transcriber’s Note
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[Illustration: CLINTON’S HOME.]
[Illustration: The Aimwell Stories
BY
Walter Aimwell
CLINTON
TAKE HEED WILL SURELY SPEED
Gould & Lincoln]
The Aimwell Stories.
CLINTON:
OR,
BOY-LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.
BY
WALTER AIMWELL,
AUTHOR OF ‘OSCAR,’ ‘BOY’S OWN GUIDE,’ ETC.
With Illustrations.
BOSTON:
GOULD AND LINCOLN.
59 WASHINGTON STREET.
NEW YORK: SHELDON, LAMPORT & BLAKEMAN.
115 NASSAU STREET.
1855.
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1853, by
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
ANDOVER: J. D. FLAGG.
Stereotyper and Printer.
PREFACE.
The story of CLINTON is designed mainly to illustrate by example the
importance of early habits of obedience and industry; the danger of
mingling with unprincipled and vicious companions; and the necessity of
being able to say no, when tempted to do wrong. It is also designed to
awaken in boys a stronger taste for the quiet and innocent pursuits and
pleasures of home-life,—a taste which can hardly be overestimated, as
one of the Heaven-appointed safeguards of youthful virtue.
_Winchester, Mass._
ADVERTISEMENT.
“PRECEPTS MAY LEAD, BUT EXAMPLES DRAW.”
“THE AIMWELL STORIES” are designed to portray some of the leading
phases of juvenile character, and to point out their tendencies to
future good and evil. This they undertake to do, by describing the
quiet, natural scenes and incidents of every-day life, in city and
country, at home and abroad, at school and upon the play-ground, rather
than by resorting to romantic adventures and startling effects. While
their main object is to persuade the young to lay well the foundations
of their characters, to win them to the ways of virtue, and to incite
them to good deeds and noble aims, the attempt is also made to mingle
amusing, curious and useful information with the moral lessons
conveyed. It is hoped that the volumes will thus be made attractive and
agreeable, as well as instructive, to the youthful reader.
Each volume of the “Aimwell Stories” will be complete and independent
of itself, although a connecting thread will run through the whole
series. The order of the volumes, so far as completed, is as follows:
I. OSCAR; OR, THE BOY WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY.
II. CLINTON; OR, BOY-LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.
III. ELLA; OR, TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. (_In preparation._)
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
CLINTON AND HIS HOME.
Page.
Description of Brookdale—The house where Clinton
lived—Specimens of his ingenuity—His habit of finding
out how to do things—Annie—Clinton’s mother—Keeping
ducks—Clinton’s poultry—Keeping accounts—His
profits—Obstinate Specky—Ducks bad mothers—The
duck-house—No school—Studying at home—Clinton
at work—A mysterious “but,” 13
CHAPTER II.
JERRY AND OSCAR.
Digging a duck-pond—Bantering—A talk about work—Going
to the pond—Clinton’s hesitation—Afraid
of being laughed at—Ridicule—He yields—Bathing—A
merry time—Unpleasant thoughts—A sail proposed—Clinton’s
remonstrance—His return home—His
companions’ sport—Aground—Laughing at mischief—Character
of Jerry and Oscar—Dangers ahead, 30
CHAPTER III.
TEMPTATION.
The little ducks—Their house and pond—Their first
ducking—An exciting scene—The beautiful and the
ridiculous—Winter wheat—Hard work—A welcome
proposal—The Cross-Roads—Clinton’s errand—Oscar
and Jerry—Gunning—The closed store—Another
successful temptation—The river—The Falls—The
wood-road—The cigars—Temptation again—Why
Clinton yielded—A new sensation—Starting for
home—Another new sensation, not so pleasant—Arrival
home—Sickness—Telling half the truth—Parental
sympathy—What conscience said—Good-night, 43
CHAPTER IV.
CRIME.
The icicle—How evil habits are formed—Stealing pears—Discovery
and flight—A call from Mr. Upham—A
serious matter—A talk about punishment—The culprits
discovered—The flogging of Oscar and Jerry—Its
effects—Fire in the woods—Mr. Upham’s loss—His
suspicions—The warrant—Arrest of Oscar and
Jerry—Mr. Preston’s feelings—Arrival at Squire Walcott’s—A
dreary hour, 61
CHAPTER V.
THE EXAMINATION.
The Justice of the Peace—Oscar’s arraignment—His
feelings—The Squire’s advice—Reading of the complaint—Oscar’s
plea—The witnesses—Mr. Preston’s
opinion of the evidence—Decision reserved—Jerry’s
examination—His confession—Oscar’s recall—His
surprise—Bonds required, but not obtained—Oscar
and the constable—A sad journey—The jail—The
registry—Oscar’s cell—His supper—His father’s arrival
at Brookdale—The case settled—Release from
jail, 73
CHAPTER VI.
JERRY AND CLINTON.
Mr. Preston’s absence—Jerry’s conduct—The rabbits—Disobedience—Its
results—Fate of the rabbits—Lonesomeness
of Jerry—His secret intimacy with Clinton—A
dull scholar—Playing truant—A bad predicament—A
plan of escape—Clinton to be a party—His
objections—The real one not given—Coaxing and
entreaty—Indecision—Tampering with sin—The
forged excuse—Its success, 87
CHAPTER VII.
DISCLOSURES.
How to conquer a hard lesson—Can and can’t—An important
lesson—Clinton’s great mistake—His miserable
position—The social party—Master Eaton and
Mrs. Preston—Inquiries about Jerry—Unpleasant discoveries—A
mystery—Suspicions—Foreboding of
evil—Clinton’s guilt betrayed—Shame and grief—A
request—The confession—Master Eaton’s opinion of
the case—His advice—Jerry’s perplexity, 101
CHAPTER VIII.
CONFESSION.
A peep at Clinton’s home—A talk about him—His return
from school—Sober looks—Whittling—Story of
a whittler—Clinton unburdens his mind—Parental
admonitions—A father’s prayer—Clinton’s punishment—A
lighter heart, 115
CHAPTER IX.
THE RUNAWAY.
A visit from Mrs. Preston—Jerry’s theft and departure—His
mother’s grief—Mr. Davenport’s advice—He
starts in pursuit—His return—Feelings towards Jerry—Temptation
not to be courted, 125
CHAPTER X.
THE JOURNEY.
A long walk—The tavern—The bar-room—Jerry
questioned—A good supper—Sleep—An early call—The
stage ride—Waterville—The depot—A long
ride by railroad—Thoughts of home—Portland—Travelling
by night—Arrival at Boston—Baggage
checks—Carriages—Bare ground—Haymarket
Square by gas-light—Hunting up quarters—The Hotel
clerk—Jerry booked—A lofty bed-room, 132
CHAPTER XI.
BOSTON.
A fine prospect—What next?—Oscar at sea—Breakfast—The
waiters—Crowded streets—Novel sights—An
omnibus incident—Shipping—The ferry-boat—People
Jerry met—The wharf—No boys wanted—The
outward-bound brig—An unexpected chance—Going
to sea in a hurry—Jerry’s thoughtlessness, 147
CHAPTER XII.
THE SAILOR-BOY.
Going down the harbor—The ocean—Jerry’s first lesson
in nautical duties—Four-footed passengers—Seasickness—Repentings—Bob’s
trick—Jerry’s tormentors—Going
to bed—The forecastle—First night
at sea—A rough morning-call—Scrubbing decks—Breakfast—Destination
of the brig—An “Irishman’s
hurricane”—Mother Carey’s chickens—Routine of
work at sea—Iron discipline—A nap at the watch—Insolence
cured—Dangerous associates, 158
CHAPTER XIII.
MARY.
Jerry missed at home—What Mary thought had become
of him—A letter—Disappointment—Clinton’s visits—The
snow-image—A painful contrast—Mary’s
sickness—The doctor—Strange talk—Delirium—Recognition—Inquiries
about Jerry—Mary’s vision—The
last scene—The burial—Heaven, 174
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FORESTS.
March—Clinton’s good conduct—An excursion proposed—Preparations—The
outfit—An early start—Their
destination—The forests—Plenty of wood—Its scarcity in Europe—Great
stumps—A variety of trees—Their
uses—Virtues of birch—Incident in Mr. Davenport’s
school days—The oil of birch—Curious properties
of the birch tree—Uncle Tim’s clearing, 186
CHAPTER XV.
THE CLEARING.
Uncle Tim’s premises—His log house and barn—Dinner—Uncle
Tim’s account of his settlement in the
woods—A table turned into an arm-chair—Splints—Holes
in the floor—The river—A sagacious dog—Bill
and Jim—The barn—The crops—A great fire-place—Supper—A
visit to the river—A talk with
the boys—The settle—“I’ll try”—Uncle Tim’s stories—The
three brothers—An alarm—A bad, but
laughable predicament—Good done by a bear—Going
to bed, 198
CHAPTER XVI.
THE LOGGERS.
The journey resumed—Dreary scenes—Camping in the
woods—Welcome sounds—The loggers’ quarters—Mr.
Jones—Situation of the camp—Description of the
cabins—Their interior—Return of the loggers from
work—Supper—Exchange of provisions—Night in
the camp—Going to work—The three gangs—Clinton’s
rambles—Private marks on the logs—Evening
stories—Log driving—Jams—How they are started—A
fearful scene—Narrow escape—The great
boom—How the logs are got out, 215
CHAPTER XVII.
A TALK IN THE WOODS.
Starting for home—A logger’s life—Mr. Davenport’s
opinion of it—Hard work and small pay—Mr.
Jones’s history—The two boys—Contrast between
their early habits—Henry Jones’s fatal error—Its
consequences—A moose discovered—Its appearance—Fast
travelling—Antlers of the moose—A moose-yard—Hunting
moose—A moose at bay—Home
again, 232
CHAPTER XVIII.
WORK AND PLAY.
Early spring—A dull season for boys—Clinton in the
shop—He makes a settle—The motto—Winter
over—Work on the farm—Taking care of the garden—A
bargain—Contest with weeds and bugs—Secrets
of Clinton’s success—Going to the post-office—A
boyish dispute—Play-ground rhymes—Their
antiquity—The two letters—Curiosity excited—A
letter from Jerry—Unpleasant question—Consulting
the map, 245
CHAPTER XIX.
BITTER FRUITS.
Letter from Clinton’s uncle—Willie’s disappointment—An
interesting case—Oscar’s career, after his release
from jail—Joins a band of juvenile thieves—His
arrest—Imprisonment—Denial of guilt—A dark future—Friendly
messages—A wag of Bouncer’s tail—A
bad beginning seldom makes a good ending—Working
and thinking—A newspaper—Oscar’s conviction
and sentence—The Reform School—Its inmates—The
four classes—Class of “Truth and Honor”—Daily
order of business—Employment—The
probability of Oscar’s reforming—Clinton’s character
retrieved—Conclusion, 260
Illustrations.
Page.
CLINTON’S HOME FRONTISPIECE.
MAP OF BROOKDALE 14
THE BOAT AGROUND 38
THE FIRE IN THE WOODS 69
OSCAR IN JAIL 84
CLINTON AT THE FIRE-SIDE 117
HAYMARKET SQUARE 143
SEA-SICKNESS 162
THE SNOW IMAGE 177
THE LOG HOUSE 199
THE LOGGERS’ CAMP 219
THE SETTLE 248
BOUNCER’S TAIL 264
THE REFORM SCHOOL 269
CLINTON.
CHAPTER I.
CLINTON, AND HIS HOME.
Most people on entering the little village of Brookdale for the first
time, are struck with the beauty of its location. Those who were born
there, and who have always lived in sight of its green hills, and
pleasant valleys, and frolicsome rivulets, probably do not think so
much of these things as does the stranger who happens to come among
them, and who has an eye for the beauty of nature. Beautiful objects
often lose their attractions when they become familiar to us. If a man
were permitted to behold the splendors of a clear evening firmament
but once in his life-time, he would be almost enraptured with the
sight; but give him the opportunity of gazing at the stars every
cloudless night in the year, and he will seldom notice them.
[Illustration: Map of Brookdale]
A range of high hills skirt the eastern side of Brookdale, and stretch
away to the north, as far as the eye can reach. Towards the west,
in a clear day, can be seen the shadowy form of a distant mountain,
looking like a dim cloud on the horizon. Near the centre of the village
is one of those beautiful little lakes, so common in the State of
Maine. Several rivulets, fed by springs in the hills, flow through
the village during the greater portion of the year, and empty their
sparkling waters into this lake, or pond as it is generally called. It
is from this circumstance that the town is called Brookdale.
It was near the foot of one of the hills in this pleasant little
village, in a snug farm-house a story and a half high, that Clinton
lived. Mr. Davenport, his father, had formerly been a carpenter in
another part of the State; but having a taste for farming, he gave up
his trade after he had accumulated a little property, and bought the
place of which we are speaking. He brought with him, however, a great
variety of carpenter’s tools, and had a room fitted up for a workshop,
where he often did little jobs for himself or some neighbor, when a
rainy day kept him indoors. This room was in the rear of the house,
adjoining the pantry, so that it was not necessary to go out of the
house to reach it. Clinton spent a great many happy hours in this
shop; for though he was only thirteen years old, he had considerable
mechanical skill, and could handle the plane, the saw, the bit, and
most of the other tools, in quite a workmanlike style. As he was
careful not to injure the tools, his father allowed him to use them
whenever he wished.
There were some very creditable specimens of Clinton’s skill at
carpentry about the house, which he took no little pride in showing to
visitors, as well he might. For instance, there was the martin-house,
on a tall pole in the garden, which was a complete miniature model of
the farm-house itself, including the long “kitchen-end” in the rear. To
make the resemblance as close as possible, Clinton gave this bird-house
two coats of white paint, and also painted imitation windows in black.
On the barn there was another tall, straight staff, with a vane
representing a prancing horse, all the work of Clinton’s own hands. The
trellises on each side of the front door of the house which supported
the climbing roses and honeysuckles, were likewise his handiwork.
Clinton did not like to have any one show him how to do a thing, if he
could possibly get along without it. I suppose it was for this reason
that he never wanted others to know what he was at work upon, until it
was completed. His father would sometimes laugh at him on this account,
and repeat to him the saying of Doctor Franklin, that the man who
depends on teaching himself will have a fool for his master. But this
did not move Clinton in his resolution. It is a good plan to profit as
much as we can by the experience and advice of others; but after all,
there are many things to which this rule will not apply. The boy who
works out a hard sum alone, and refuses to let any one show him how to
do it, will derive much more benefit from the exercise than though he
had been assisted by others. So, no doubt, Clinton owed no little of
his skill in carpentry to the fact that he did not run to his father
for advice and assistance every time he met with a little difficulty.
Clinton had one sister, but no brothers; her name was Annie; and she
was seven years younger than her brother. She was a beautiful child,
with large, blue eyes full of confidence and love, a fat, rosy face,
and hair that hung in golden curls about her white shoulders. She was
all gentleness and affection, and was the pet and favorite of the
household. No boy of his age ever loved a sister more than Clinton did
his. Though she was so much younger than himself, he spent much of his
time with her, joining in sports in which she could take a part, or
making playthings for her amusement. It was very rarely that he allowed
himself to use an unkind or impatient word toward her; and when he
did, he was sure to repent of it, for he could not bear the silent and
sorrowful reproach of those eyes. Annie, for her part, was proud of her
brother, and returned, with interest, all the affection he bestowed
upon her. She was sure that no other little girl in Brookdale had such
a brother; and when this subject was talked about after school one
day, she was not a little offended with Susan Lovering, because she
persisted in maintaining that her brother Herbert was just as good and
as ingenious a boy as Clinton Davenport. Annie thought the idea absurd,
and it was some time before she could forgive Susan for making such a
remark.
The only other inmate of the house I have described, was Clinton’s
mother. Mrs. Davenport was an excellent woman, gentle and lady-like in
her manners, and extremely fond of her children. Mr. Davenport employed
one or two hired men on his farm a portion of the year, but they did
not live with the family.
“Father,” said Clinton one day, on coming home from the mill, and
before he had alighted from the wagon, “Father, may I keep some ducks?”
“Ducks! what do you want of them, Clinty?” inquired his father.
“Why, I’ve just seen Jerry Preston, and he’s got some real handsome
ones, and he says I may have four of them for a dollar.”
“Yes, but that isn’t answering my question. No doubt Jerry would be
glad to sell his ducks, but what do you want of them, and what will
you do with them? We must always think of these things before we buy
anything. I am not so sure but that if you had the ducks you would be
almost as badly off as the man who came into possession of an elephant,
which he could not keep, sell, nor give away.”
“Why, father,” replied Clinton, “I can build a little house to keep
them in, down by the side of the brook, and Jerry says they will lay
more than eggs enough to pay for their keeping. They don’t need so much
grain as hens do. They look real handsome, too, sailing on the water.”
“Well, if you are willing to pay for them out of your own money, and
will provide a suitable place for them, I don’t know as I shall object
to your keeping a few. But it seems to me you might make a better
bargain than you propose. Won’t Jerry sell you some eggs?”
“I don’t know as he has any, yet, for he has just begun to keep ducks;
but I will ask him.”
“Do so,” said Mr. Davenport, “and if he will sell you a dozen, at a
reasonable price, you may buy them.”
“But of what use will the eggs be, father, without a duck to hatch
them?” inquired Clinton.
“Never mind about that now,” replied his father, “you get the eggs
first, and then we will see what we can do with them.”
Clinton was already somewhat largely interested in the poultry line.
When he was nine years old, his father gave him all the fowls belonging
to the farm, on condition that he should assume the whole charge of
them, and take good care of them. There were in all about twenty hens
and chickens, and half a dozen young turkeys. Mr. Davenport agreed to
pay Clinton for all the eggs and poultry they needed for the table,
but Clinton must purchase with his own money whatever was necessary
for the subsistence of the fowls. Clinton was much pleased with this
arrangement; and as he knew that when men engage in business they
usually keep account books, in which they record all the sums they
spend or receive, he procured a few sheets of paper, with which he made
a little blank book, for this purpose. His first entry was simply an
enumeration of his fowls, with an estimate of their value; or, as the
merchant would call it, a schedule of his stock in trade. It was as
follows:—
Commenced this account July 18th, 1847, with the following fowls:—
1 rooster and 8 hens, (old), worth 30 cts. each, $2,70
10 pullets, ” 40 ” 4,00
6 turkeys, ” 75 ” 4,50
——————
Total value, $11,20
Whenever he sold any eggs, he entered the date, the number sold,
and the price, on a page which he reserved for this purpose. On the
opposite page, he set down the sums which he paid his father for the
corn and meal consumed by his fowls. At the end of the first year, he
struck a balance, to use a mercantile expression; that is, he added up
the various sums he had received and spent, and ascertained how much he
had made by the year’s operations. His account stood thus:—
DR.
Value of fowls on hand one year ago $11,20
12 bushels corn, at 75 cts. 9,00
6 ” meal, at 80 cts. 4,80
4 ” barley, at 60 cts. 2,40
2 ” potatoes, at 40 cts. 80
Meat 92
——————
Total cost $29,12
CR.
Now on hand, 2 roosters and 32 hens and pullets,
worth 36 cents each $12,24
9 turkeys, worth 75 cts. each 6,75
150 dozen eggs sold 22,50
10 hens and chickens sold, 36 cts. each 3,60
6 turkeys sold at 83⅓ cts. each 5,00
2 loads manure 2,50
——————
Total value $52,59
Expenses 29,12
——————
Profit $23,47
Of this profit, $18,99 was in the shape of hens and turkeys, and $4,48
in ready cash, safely deposited in the old bureau drawer, in Clinton’s
bed-room.
The second year, Clinton made a much larger profit on his poultry, his
father having given him a patch of ground, where he raised with his own
hand a crop of corn sufficient to carry his fowls through the year. At
the end of this year, he had about $30,00 in money, which his fowls had
earned for him; and as he continued every year to raise his own grain,
when he was thirteen years old, he had about $75,00 in cash, which, at
his request, his father had deposited in a bank in Portland, where it
earned him interest. In addition to this, he had about $25,00 worth of
hens and turkeys; so that the $11,20 worth of fowls which his father
gave him, had, by his own industry and prudence, swelled into $100 in
four years.
The same afternoon on which the conversation upon ducks was held,
Clinton managed to run over to Jerry’s again, to see if he could
procure the eggs. Jerry told him he had not now got enough for a
litter, but would be able to supply him in a few days. Clinton
therefore engaged the first dozen he should have, for which he agreed
to pay 25 cents.
“Now, father,” said Clinton a few days after, as he uncovered the box
of eggs for which he had bargained, “now I am ready for you.”
“You don’t need any assistance,” replied Mr. Davenport; “all you have
got to do, now, is to give the eggs to Specky, and she will do the
rest.”
Specky was one of Clinton’s hens, and this name was given to her, on
account of her speckled feathers. She had recently taken it into her
head that she wanted to raise a family of little Speckies; but as
Clinton did not happen to coincide with her in this matter, she had
done nothing but make herself miserable for several days. Every chance
she could get, she would jump into the nest, and commence setting,
as though she were determined to bring a chicken out of the chalk
nest-egg. When Clinton approached to take her off the nest, she would
scream and cluck with all her might, which I suppose was her way of
scolding; and when he put her down, she would squat upon the ground,
and refuse to budge an inch. He was obliged to shut her up alone in a
little coop, to reform her bad manners; but she had not got over her
stubbornness, at the time Mr. Davenport told Clinton to let her take
charge of the ducks’ eggs.
“But,” said Clinton, on receiving this direction, “will she set on
those eggs?”
“Yes,” replied his father, “she will set on any thing that looks like
an egg, and be glad of the chance, too. And besides, she will make a
better mother to the little ducklings than their real mother would
prove. The duck is so fond of the water, that when she once gets into
it, she is apt to forget all about her eggs, until they get cold, and
are spoilt. And if she should not fall into this blunder, and hatches
her brood successfully, the first thing she does is to give the poor,
weak things a cold bath, no matter how chilly or stormy it is. They
can’t stand this rough treatment very well, and for this reason it is
better to let hens do the setting and hatching, when there are any
ducks to be raised.”
All this was new to Clinton, as he had never had any experience in the
management of the duck family. He followed his father’s directions,
however, and as madame Specky seemed delighted with the arrangement,
he was satisfied. The next day, he set about building a house for the
expected new comers, down in the meadow, by the side of the brook. This
was something of an undertaking, for a boy of his age, but he took hold
with a right good will, and by devoting to it all the time he could
spare from his other duties, he had it completed, and ready for the
ducks to move into, long before they had begun to show their heads.
At this time Clinton was not attending school, for the very good reason
that there was no school in the place. The law of the State only
required that every town should support a public school three months in
the year; and as Brookdale had but a small and scattered population,
the people did not think it advisable to continue their school any
longer than the winter term, which lasted from the first of December to
the first of March. During this season of the year, the lads and lasses
of all ages, from six or seven years up to eighteen or twenty, turned
out and attended the same school, and made the most of their brief
opportunities for acquiring knowledge.
But though there were nine months of every year that Clinton did
not attend school, he was not allowed to neglect his studies, during
these long vacations. Both of his parents had received good educations
in their youth, and they knew too well the value of the benefits
thus secured, to allow their children to grow up in ignorance. Mrs.
Davenport had once been a teacher herself, and it was now but a
pleasant task to give Clinton and Annie their daily lessons, and to
listen to their recitations. Mr. Davenport, too, had taught a school
for one or two terms, when a young man. The branches which Clinton was
now studying, were reading, writing, arithmetic, and grammar. He was
required to devote two hours to his studies, each day, no matter how
much work he had to do, or how much he wanted to play. In the evening
his mother heard him recite, and gave him such assistance as he needed.
In this way, he made considerable progress in his studies, though
perhaps he did not learn as fast as he could had he enjoyed school
privileges all the time. During the portion of the year he attended
school, he always ranked above other boys of his own age, and was
considered one of the best scholars in town.
Clinton also performed a good deal of work for his parents, when he
did not attend school. In the spring he used to drive the ploughing
team, while his father or the hired man guided the plough through the
soil. He likewise made himself very handy in planting season; and in
mid-summer he could rake the hay or hoe the corn and potatoes, almost
as well as a man. He knew how to build a stone-wall, or to make a
compost-heap, or to litter and feed the oxen, or to chop wood; for all
these things, and many others, he had been taught to do. He was not
required to labor too hard, or too long at one time; but his father
wished him to learn to work while young, believing he would be happier
if he had some useful employment for a portion of his leisure time.
And Clinton found this to be true. He not only learned a great many
useful things, from his daily labors, but he found that after working
a few hours, he could enjoy his sports with much more zest than if he
had idled away all his time in trying to amuse himself. Besides, it was
no little satisfaction to know that he could be of some service to his
parents, to whose care and affection he was so greatly indebted.
It was thus between work, study and play, that Clinton divided
his time. He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, good-natured, and
well-meaning boy, but——well, we will for the present drop the vail of
charity over the unpleasant truth which belongs to the other side of
that “but.”