TIDINGS.
Jessie heard nothing from her brother Sam, until about a fortnight after
her interview with him at Round Hill Pond, when Marcus called her
attention to the following paragraph in a Boston newspaper:
“A FIGHT.—The police were called last night to quell a fight in a
notorious dance cellar in North Street, which for a time threatened
serious consequences. There were several bloody heads in the crowd,
but the only person seriously injured was a Vermont youth, sixteen or
seventeen years old, who, it is said, being crazed with liquor, joined
in the melee, attacking both parties with equal vigor. His name is
said to be Hapley. His injuries are so serious that he was sent to the
hospital.”
There could be scarcely a doubt as to who this youth was, and Jessie
proposed to hasten at once to the relief of her wayward brother. Her
friends, however, prevailed upon her to abandon this purpose, Marcus
promising to write forthwith to Mr. Preston, Oscar’s father, who lived
in Boston, and ask him to make inquiries in regard to the injured boy.
Marcus accordingly wrote to his uncle, and in a few days received the
following reply:
“BOSTON, May 17, 185–.
“MY DEAR NEPHEW:—Your favor of the 15th came to hand, and it afforded
me much pleasure to comply with your request. I called at the hospital
this morning, and saw the young man who was injured in the fight. He
acknowledged he was the brother of the young lady who lives with you,
and said if he had followed her advice he never should have been in
this scrape. He was not hurt so badly as was at first supposed, and is
getting along very well. The doctor says he will be discharged in a
few days. He did not seem inclined to say much, but he wished me to
inform his sister that he was not intoxicated at the time of the
assault, and that he took no part in the fight, but was only looking
on. He says he drank nothing that night but a glass of lager beer. I
advised him to leave the city, as soon as he was able, and to go back
to Vermont; but he said he had no home there, and no friends to look
to for assistance. I then tried to persuade him to avoid bad
associates, and to seek steady and respectable employment, if he
remained in the city. I also gave him my card, and told him that if he
would call on me, after he was discharged, I would try to help him
procure employment. You may assure his sister that if I can do
anything to save him from ruin, it shall be most gladly done.
“I am glad to hear so favorable a report from Oscar. I can never repay
you and your mother and aunt for the obligation you have laid me
under, in doing what you have done for that boy. He has persevered so
long, that I think his reform will be permanent. We have concluded to
let him spend a week or two of his vacation with us, if you can spare
him as well as not. If he comes, send him as soon as you please after
the term closes. We should be very glad to have you and your mother or
Aunt Fanny come with him, if you can leave home.
“Please tell Oscar that Jerry, his runaway cousin, has got home. He
was wrecked at sea, and given up for lost, and has experienced any
amount of startling adventures and hair-breadth escapes. His story is
quite an interesting one, but it is so long that I will not attempt to
give it here. Oscar will learn all the particulars when he comes home.
Jerry says he has had enough of going to sea, and means to settle down
on the land, now. He arrived here last week, after an absence of about
fifteen months, and started for his home the same night.
“Our family are all well, and send love to all the folks. Oscar’s old
friend, Willie Davenport, or ‘Whistler,’ as he is still called, is
spending the evening with Ralph, and wishes to be remembered to Oscar.
Ralph has teased me to forward the little toy you will find enclosed,
as a present to Ronald. It is designed to be twirled round by the
strings,—I suppose he will understand it. Ralph has taken quite a
fancy to Ronald, although he has never seen him. Hoping to see you
soon, I remain
“Your affectionate uncle,
“HENRY PRESTON.”
This letter greatly relieved Jessie’s anxiety. Before going to bed, she
wrote an affectionate letter to her brother, assuring him of her
continued love and interest, and entreating him to go to his mother, and
accept the situation she had procured for him.
Oscar was delighted to hear of the safe arrival of his cousin Jerry. The
two boys had at one time been very intimate. Jerry’s parents lived in a
small backwoods village in Maine, named Brookdale. His father was
engaged in the logging business, and also carried on a farm. When Oscar
was about fourteen years old, he was so unmanageable at home, and was so
rapidly forming bad acquaintances, that his father sent him down to
Brookdale, where he spent several months, and would have remained
longer, had he not got into a serious “scrape,” which compelled him to
leave town. Oscar’s influence upon Jerry, who was about a year younger
than himself, was very unfavorable. Indeed, it was mainly owing to this
bad influence that Jerry ran away from home, a few weeks after Oscar
left the village, and started on the long voyage from which he had just
returned.[11] The vessel in which Jerry shipped was wrecked on the
homeward passage, and he was supposed to have been lost, until his
unexpected appearance in Boston, as mentioned in Mr. Preston’s letter.
Oscar, since he had tried to reform, had regretted very much the evil
influence he had exerted upon Jerry; and, though he never said anything
about it, he felt that he was, to some extent, responsible for his
cousin’s ruin. It is not strange, therefore, that he was rejoiced to
hear that his old comrade and pupil in mischief was not dead, but alive,
and had still a chance to mend his ways, and become an honest and
respectable man.
Footnote 11:
The career of Jerry is more fully related in the first two volumes of
this series, “Oscar” and “Clinton.”
“Who knows but that father will come home, yet?” said Marcus, who had
sat musing, while the others were talking about Jerry.
“I gave up all hope of that long ago,” replied his mother. “It is over
ten years since your father sailed, and it is idle to expect ever to see
him again in this world.”
“I don’t think so, mother,” replied Marcus. “You know the whalers pass
in the neighborhood of a good many islands in the Pacific that are
inhabited only by savages. Now isn’t it possible that father was wrecked
on one of these islands, and is still there, and unable to get away? We
know such things _have_ happened. I have read of sailors being wrecked
on some of these islands, and living with the savages a good many years,
before they could communicate with any vessel. I sha’n’t give up all
hopes of seeing father yet, for five years, at least.”
“I cherished that hope, until it seemed like hoping against hope,”
replied Mrs. Page, sadly.
[Illustration: [How to Cage a Bird]]
While this conversation was going on, Ronald and Otis had been deeply
engaged with the toy sent by Oscar’s brother. It consisted of a circular
card, on one side of which was painted a bird-cage, and on the other a
bird. There were strings on each side of the card, by which it could be
rapidly twirled round, which operation made the bird look as if he were
actually in the cage. The engraving which we give of this little toy
necessarily represents it as composed of two cards, but there is only
one. Do you know why the bird is represented upside down? Did you ever
notice that the top of one side of a coin is always the bottom of the
other side? Both of these facts are to be explained on the same
principle. We do not turn over a coin as we do the leaf of a book, but
we reverse the top and bottom. As the card revolves, the bird will of
course show himself right side up.
“Ronald, can you explain why it is that the bird looks as if he were in
the cage?” asked Marcus, after he had examined the toy.
“I suppose it’s because the card revolves so fast that we see both sides
at once,” replied Ronald.
“That is hardly a philosophical explanation,” said Marcus. “The true
reason is, the image of the bird is brought to the retina of the eye
before the image of the cage has passed away, and so both unite, and
produce the image of a bird and cage. The image of an object on the
retina does not vanish the instant the object is withdrawn, but is
retained a brief period afterward. This is the reason that two objects
may be seen in the same place at once, while each of them is presented
to the retina but half the time.”
Aunt Fanny said she had seen a mouse and a trap represented in this way.
She also suggested that the body and legs of a man might be painted on
one side, and his arms and head on the other; or a horse on one side and
his rider on the other; or a portrait, and a frame; or a cell, and a
prisoner; and several other devices were named.
It was settled that Oscar should avail himself of his father’s
invitation, and spend his vacation in Boston. He promised Jessie that he
would try to find Sam, and persuade him to return to Vermont. He also
promised Ronald that he would take charge of sundry cakes of maple sugar
which the latter desired to send to Ralph, in return for his present.
This invitation home was as unexpected as it was agreeable to Oscar. He
had not anticipated visiting Boston until the next autumn. It was
judged, however, that he had become so fixed in his good purposes and
habits, there would be no risk in allowing him to return for a week or
two to the scene of his former temptations and misdeeds.