"School!" said Richard White, to himself; "School! I don't want to go to
school. Why am I sent to school every day? What good is there in learning
grammar, and arithmetic, and geography, and all them things? I don't like
school, and I never did."
"Dick!" called out a voice; and the lad, who had seated himself on a cellar
door, and placed his satchel beside him, looked up, and met the cheerful
face of one of his school-fellows.
"What are you sitting there for, Dick? Don't you hear the school bell?"
"Yes; I hear it, Bill."
"Then get up and come along, or you will be late."
"I don't care if I am. I don't like to go to school."
"You don't?"
"No, indeed. I'd never go to school if I could help it. What's the use of
so much learning? I'm going to a trade as soon as I get old enough; and
Pete Elder says that a boy who don't know A B C, can learn a trade just as
well as one who does."
"I don't know any thing about that," replied William Brown; "but father
says, the more learning I get when a boy, the more successful in life will
I be when a man; that is, if I make a good use of my learning."
"What good is grammar going to do a mechanic, I wonder?" said Richard,
contemptuously. "What use will the double rule of three, or fractions, be
to him?"
"They may be of a great deal of use. Father says we cannot learn too much
while we are boys. He says he never learned any thing in his life that did
not come of use to him at some time or other."
"Grammar, and geography, and double rule of three, will never be of any use
to me."
"Oh, yes, they will, Dick! So come along. The bell is nearly done ringing.
Come, won't you?"
"No; I'm going out to the woods,"
"Come, Richard, come! That will be playing truant."
"No; I've made my mind up not to go to school to-day."
"You'll be sorry for it, Dick, if you do stay away from school."
"Why will I?" said the boy, quickly. "Are you going to tell?"
"If I should be asked about you, I will not tell a lie; but I don't suppose
any one will inquire of me."
"Then why will I be sorry?"
"You'll be sorry when you're a man."
Richard White laughed aloud at the idea of his being sorry when he became a
man, for having neglected his school when a boy.
"If you are not going, I am," said William Brown, starting off and running
as fast as he could. He arrived at the door of the schoolhouse just as the
bell stopped ringing. In stopping to persuade Richard not to play truant,
he had come near being too late.
As soon as William left him, Richard White got up from the cellar door
where he had been reclining lazily, and throwing his satchel over his
shoulder, started for the woods. His books and satchel were in his way, and
rather heavy to carry about with him for six or seven hours. But he did not
think it prudent to leave them any where, for the person with whom they
were left would suspect him of playing truant, and through that means his
fault might come to the knowledge of his parents.
After thinking over this, as he went on his way, it occurred to Richard
that the satchel was as likely to betray him if carried along as if left at
some store to be called for on his return. Finally, he concluded to ask for
a newspaper at a shop.
With this he wrapped up his satchel, and taking it under his arm, went on
without any more fears of betrayal from this source.
As soon as the foolish boy reached the woods, he hid his satchel, so as to
get clear of the trouble it was to him, beside a large stone, and covered
it with leaves and long grass. Then he felt free, and, as he thought,
happy.
But it was not long before he got tired of rambling about alone. He
listened, sometimes, to the birds, and sometimes tried, with stones, to
kill the beautiful and innocent creatures. Then he thought how pleasant it
would be to find a nest, and carry off the young ones; and he searched with
great diligence for a long time, but could find no nest.
Once a little striped squirrel glided past him, and mounted a high tree. As
it ran around and around the great trunk, appearing and disappearing at
intervals, Richard tried to knock it off with stones. But his aim was not
very true. Instead of hitting the squirrel, he managed to get a severe blow
himself; for a stone which he threw very high, struck a large limb, and,
bouncing back, fell upon his upturned face, and cut him badly.
From that moment, all the pleasure he had felt since entering the woods was
gone. The blood stained his shirt bosom, and covered his hand when he put
it up to his face. Of course, the wound, and the blood upon his shirt,
would betray him. This was his first thought, as he washed himself at a
small stream. But, then, all at once it occurred to him--for evil
suggestions are sure to be made to us when we are in the way to receive
them--that it would be just as easy to say that a boy threw a stone, which
struck him as he was walking along the street, as to say that he got hurt
while in the woods. And, without stopping to think how wicked it would be
to tell a lie, Richard determined to make this statement when he got home.
The smarting of the wound, and the uneasiness occasioned by a sight of the
blood, so disturbed Richard's feelings, that he was unable to regain enough
composure of mind to enjoy his day of freedom in the woods. By twelve
o'clock, he was tired and hungry, and heartily wished himself at home. But
it would not do to go now; for if he were to do so, his father would
understand that he had not been to school. There was no alternative for him
but to remain out in the lonely woods, without any thing to eat, for five
hours longer. And a weary time it was for him.
At last the sun, which had been for a very long time, it seemed to him,
descending toward the western horizon, sunk so low that he was sure it must
be after five o'clock, and then, with sober feelings, he started for home.
The day had disappointed him. He was far from feeling happy. When he
thought of the wound on his face and the blood upon his bosom, he felt
troubled. If he told the truth, he knew he would be punished, and if he
told a lie, and was found out, punishment would as certainly follow.
These were his thoughts and feelings when he came to the place where he had
concealed his satchel. But, lo! his books were gone. Some one had
discovered and carried them off.
Sadly enough, now, did Richard White return home. We will not pain our
young readers with an account of his reception. The father already knew
that his son had not been to school, for a man had found the satchel in the
woods. Richard's name was on it, and this led the man to bring it to his
father, with whom he was acquainted.
Richard never went to school again. On the very next week, he was sent to
learn a trade, and he soon found that there was a great difference between
a school-boy and an apprentice.
William Brown continued to go to school two years longer, when he also went
from home to learn a trade. He was then a good scholar, and had a fondness
for books. Because he was learning a trade, he did not give up all other
kinds of learning, but, whenever he had leisure, he applied himself to his
books. Both he and Richard were free about the same time. Richard had
learned his trade well, and was as good a workman as William; but he had
not improved his mind. He had not been able to see the use that learning
was going to be to a mechanic.
Fifteen years have passed since these two lads completed their terms of
apprenticeship, and entered the world as men; and how do they now stand?
Why, William Brown has a large manufactory of his own, and Richard White is
one of his workmen. By his superior intelligence and enterprise, the former
is able to serve the public interests by giving direction to the labors of
a hundred men, and his reward is in proportion to the service he thus
renders; while the latter serves the public interest to the extent of only
one man's labors, and his reward is in exact ratio thereto.
Did Richard White gain any thing by his day in the woods? We think not. Is
there any use in education to a mechanic? Let each of our young readers
answer the question for himself.
THE SPIDER AND THE HONEY-BEE.
A FABLE FOR MANY IN GENERAL AND SOME IN PARTICULAR.