The life of one boy is much like that of another. They all have their
joys and their griefs, their triumphs and their failures, their loves
and their hates, their friends and their foes, much as men have them in
that maturer life of which the days of youth are an epitome. It would be
rather an uninteresting task, and an entirely thankless one, to follow
in detail the career of Frederick Brent as he grew from childhood to
youth. But in order to understand certain traits that developed in his
character, it will be necessary to note some, at least, of the
circumstances that influenced his early life.
While Miss Prime grew to care for him in her own unemotional way, she
had her own notions of how a boy should be trained, and those notions
seemed to embody the repression of every natural impulse. She reasoned
thus: "Human beings are by nature evil: evil must be crushed: _ergo_,
everything natural must be crushed." In pursuance of this principle,
she followed out a deliberate course of restriction, which, had it not
been for the combating influence of Eliphalet Hodges, would have dwarfed
the mental powers of the boy and cramped his soul beyond endurance. When
he came of an age to play marbles, he was forbidden to play, because it
was, to Miss Hester's mind, a species of gambling. Swimming was too
dangerous to be for a moment considered. Fishing, without necessity, was
wanton cruelty. Flying kites was foolishness and a waste of time.
The boy had shown an aptitude at his lessons that had created in his
guardian's mind some ambition for him, and she held him down to his
books with rigid assiduity. He was naturally studious, but the feeling
that he was being driven made his tasks repellent, although he performed
them without outward sign of rebellion, while he fumed within.
His greatest relaxations were his trips to and from his old friend
Hodges. If Miss Prime crushed him, this gentle soul comforted him and
smoothed out his ruffled feelings. It was this influence that kept him
from despair. Away from his guardian, he was as if a chain that galled
his flesh had been removed. And yet he could not hate Miss Hester, for
it was constantly impressed upon him that all was being done for his
good, and the word "duty" was burned like a fiery cross upon his heart
and brain.
There is a bit of the pagan in every natural boy, and to give him too
much to reverence taxes his powers until they are worn and impotent by
the time he reaches manhood. Under Miss Hester's tutelage too many
things became sacred to Fred Brent. It was wicked to cough in church, as
it was a sacrilege to play with a hymn-book. His training was the
apotheosis of the non-essential. But, after all, there is no rebel like
Nature. She is an iconoclast.
When he was less than ten years old, an incident occurred that will in a
measure indicate the manner of his treatment. Miss Prime's prescription
for making a good boy was two parts punishment, two parts admonition,
and six parts prayer. Accordingly, as the watchful and sympathetic
neighbours said, "she an' that pore child fairly lived in church."
It was one class-meeting night, and, as usual, the boy and his guardian
were sitting side by side at church. It was the habit of some of the
congregation to bring their outside controversies into the class-room
under the guise of testimonies or exhortations, and there to air their
views where their opponents could not answer them. One such was Daniel
Hastings. The trait had so developed in him that whenever he rose to
speak, the question ran around, "I wonder who Dan'l 's a-goin' to rake
over the coals now." On this day he had been having a tilt with his
old-time enemy, Thomas Donaldson, over the advent into Dexter of a young
homoeopathic doctor. With characteristic stubbornness, Dan'l had held
that there was no good in any but the old-school medical men, and he
sneered at the idea of anybody's being cured with sugar, as he
contemptuously termed the pellets and powders affected by the new
school. Thomas, who was considered something of a wit and who sustained
his reputation by the perpetration of certain time-worn puns, had
replied that other hogs were sugar-cured, and why not Dan'l? This had
turned the laugh on Hastings, and he went home from the corner grocery,
where the men were congregated, in high dudgeon.
Still smarting with the memory of his defeat, when he rose to speak
that evening, he cast a glance full of unfriendly significance at his
opponent and launched into a fiery exhortation on true religion. "Some
folks' religion," he said, "is like sugar, all sweetness and no power;
but I want my religion like I want my medicine: I want it strong, an' I
want it bitter, so 's I 'll know I 've got it." In Fred Brent the sense
of humour had not been entirely crushed, and the expression was too much
for his gravity. He bowed his head and covered his mouth with his hand.
He made no sound, but there were three pairs of eyes that saw the
movement,--Miss Prime's, Eliphalet Hodges', and the Rev. Mr. Simpson's.
Miss Prime's gaze was horrified, Mr. Simpson's stern; but in the eye of
Mr. Hodges there was a most ungodly twinkle.
When Dan'l Hastings had finished his exhortation--which was in reality
an arraignment of Thomas Donaldson's medical heresies--and sat down, the
Rev. Mr. Simpson arose, and, bending an accusing glance upon the
shrinking boy, began: "I perceive on the part of some of the younger
members of the congregation a disposition towards levity. The house of
God is not the place to find amusement. I never see young people
deriding their elders without thinking of the awful lesson taught by the
Lord's judgment upon those wicked youths whom the she-bears devoured. I
never see a child laughing in church without trembling in spirit for his
future. Some of the men whom I have seen in prison, condemned to death
or a life of confinement, have begun their careers just in this way,
showing disrespect for their elders and for the church. Beware, young
people, who think you are smart and laugh and titter in the sanctuary;
there is a prison waiting for you, there is a hell yawning for you.
Behold, there is death in the pot!"
With a terrible look at the boy, Mr. Simpson sat down. There was much
craning of necks and gazing about, but few in the church would have
known to whom the pastor's remarks were addressed had not Miss Prime, at
their conclusion, sighed in an injured way, and, rising with set lips,
led the culprit out, as a criminal is led to the scaffold. How the boy
suffered as, with flaming face, he walked down the aisle to the door,
the cynosure of all eyes! He saw in the faces about him the accusation
of having done a terrible thing, something unheard of and more wicked
than he could understand. He felt revolted, child as he was, at the
religion that made so much of his fault. Inwardly, he vowed that he
would never "get religion" or go into a church when he was big enough to
have his own way.
They had not gone far when a step approached them from behind, and
Eliphalet Hodges joined them. Miss Prime turned tragically at his
greeting, and broke out, "Don't reproach me 'Liphalet; it ain't no
trainin' o' mine that 's perduced a child that laughs at old foks in the
Lord's house."
"I ain't a-goin' to reproach you, Miss Hester, never you fear; I ain't
a-goin' to say a word ag'in' yore trainin'; but I jest thought I 'd ask
you not to be too hard on Freddie. You know that Dan'l is kind o' tryin'
sometimes even to the gravity of older people; an' childern will be
childern; they 'ain't got the sense, nor--nor--the deceit to keep a
smooth face when they 're a-laughin' all in their innards."
Miss Prime turned upon him in righteous wrath. "'Liphalet," she
exclaimed, "I think it 's enough fur this child to struggle ag'inst
natural sin, without encouragin' him by makin' excuses fur him."
"It ain't my intention nor my desire to set a bad example before nobody,
especially the young lambs of the flock, but I ain't a-goin' to blame
Freddie fur doin' what many another of us wanted to do."
"'Deed an' double, that is fine talk fur you, 'Liphalet Hodges! you a
trustee of the church, an' been a class-leader, a-holdin' up fur sich
onregenerate carryin's-on."
"I ain't a-holdin' up fur nothin', Miss Hester, 'ceptin' nature an' the
very could n't-help-it-ness o' the thing altogether. I ain't a boy no
more, by a good many years, but there 's times when I 've set under
Dan'l Hastings's testimonies jest mortally cramped to laugh; an' ef it
's so with a man, how will it be with a pore innercent child? I ain't
a-excusin' natural sin in nobody. It wa'n't so much Freddie's natural
sin as it was Dan'l's natural funniness." And there was something very
like a chuckle in 'Liphalet's throat.
"'Liphalet, the devil 's been puttin' fleas into yore ear, but I ain't
a-goin' to let you argy me out o' none o' my settled convictions,
although the Old Man 's put plenty of argyment into yore head. That 's
his way o' capturin' a soul.--Walk on ahead, Frederick, an' don't be
list'nin'. I 'll 'tend to yore case later on."
"It 's funny to me, Miss Hester, how it is that Christians know so much
more about the devil's ways than they do about the Lord's. They 're
allus a-sayin', 'the Lord moves in a mysterious way,' but they kin allus
put their finger on the devil."
"'Liphalet Hodges, that 's a slur!"
"I ain't a-meanin' it as no slur, Miss Hester; but most Christians do
seem to have a powerful fondness for the devil. I notice that they 're
allus admirin' his work an' praisin' up his sharpness, an' they 'd be
monstrous disappointed ef he did n't git as many souls as they expect."
"Well, after all the years that I 've been a-workin' in the church an'
a-tryin' to let my light so shine before the world, I did n't think that
you 'd be the one to throw out hints about my Christianity. But we all
have our burdens to bear, an' I 'm a-goin' to bear mine the best I kin,
an' do my dooty, whatever comes of it." And Miss Hester gave another
sigh of injured rectitude.
"I see, Miss Hester, that you 're jest bent an' bound not to see what I
mean, so I might as well go home."
"I think my mind ain't givin' way yit, an' I believe that I do
understand plain words; but I ain't a-bearin' you no grudge. You 've
spoke yore mind, an' it 's all right."
"But I hope there ain't no hard feelin's, after all these years."
"Oh, 'Liphalet, it ain't a part of even my pore weak religion to bear
hard feelin's towards no one, no matter how they treat me. I 'm jest
tryin' to bear my cross an' suffer fur the Lord's sake."
"But I hope I ain't a-givin' you no cross to bear. I 'ain't never
doubted yore goodness or yore Christianity: I only thought that mebbe
yore methods, yore methods--"
Miss Prime's lips were drawn into a line. She divided that line to say,
"I know what the Scriptures say: 'If thy right hand offend thee'--"
"Hester, Hester!" he cried, stretching out his hands to her.
"Good-night, Brother Hodges. I must go in." She turned and left him
standing at the gate with a hurt look in his face.
On going into the house, Miss Hester did not immediately 'tend to Fred,
as she had promised. Instead, she left him and went into her own room
where she remained awhile. When she came out, her lips were no less set,
but her eyes were red. It is hardly to be supposed that she had been
indulging in that solace of woman's woes, a good cry.
"Take off yore jacket, Freddie," she said, calmly, taking down a switch
from over the clothes-press. "I 'm a-goin' to whip you; but, remember, I
ain't a-punishin' you because I 'm mad. It 's fur the purpose of
instruction. It 's fur yore own good."
Fred received his dressing-down without a whimper. He was too angry to
cry. This Miss Prime took as a mark of especial depravity. In fact, the
boy had been unable to discover any difference between an instructive
and a vindictive whipping. It was perfectly clear in his guardian's
mind, no doubt, but a cherry switch knows no such distinctions.
This incident only prepared Fred Brent for a further infraction of his
guardian's rules the next day. One of Miss Prime's strictest orders had
to do with fighting. Whatever the boys did to Fred, he was never to
resent it. He must come to her, and she would go to the boy's mother.
What an order to give a boy with muscles and fists and Nature strong
within him! But, save for the telling, it had been obeyed, although it
is hard to feel one's self an unwilling coward, a prig, and the
laughingstock of one's fellows. But when, on the day after his unjust
punishment, and while still stung by the sense of wrong, one of the
petty schoolboy tyrants began to taunt him, he turned upon the young
scamp and thrashed him soundly. His tormentor was not more hurt than
surprised. Like most of his class, he was a tattler. The matter got to
the teacher's ears, and that night Fred carried home an ominous-looking
note. In his heart he believed that it meant another application of
cherry switch, either instructive or vindictive, but he did not care. He
had done the natural thing, and Nature rewards us for obeying her laws
by making us happy or stoical. He had gone up in the estimation of his
schoolfellows, even the thrashed one, and he felt a reckless joy. He
would welcome a whipping. It would bring him back memories of what he
had given Billy Tompkins. "Would n't Miss Hester be surprised," he
thought, "if I should laugh out while she is whipping me?" And he
laughed at the very thought. He was full of pleasure at himself. He had
satisfied the impulse within him for once, and it made him happy.
Miss Prime read the ominous note, and looked at her charge thoughtfully.
Fred glanced expectantly in the direction of the top of the
clothes-press. But she only said, "Go out an' git in yore kindlin',
Freddie; git yore chores done, an' then come in to supper." Her voice
was menacingly quiet. The boy had learned to read the signs of her face
too well to think that he was to get off so easily as this. Evidently,
he would "get it" after supper, or Miss Prime had some new, refined mode
of punishment in store for him. But what was it? He cudgelled his brain
in vain, as he finished his chores, and at table he could hardly eat for
wondering. But he might have spared himself his pains, for he learned
all too soon.
Immediately after supper he was bidden to put on his cap and come along.
Miss Prime took him by the hand. "I 'm a-goin' to take you," she said,
"to beg Willie Tompkins's pardon fur the way you did him."
Did the woman know what it meant to the boy? She could not, or her heart
would have turned against the cruelty. Fred was aghast. Beg his pardon!
A whipping was a thousand times better: indeed, it would be a mercy. He
began to protest, but was speedily silenced. The enforced silence,
however, did not cool his anger. He had done what other boys did. He had
acted in the only way that it seemed a boy could act under the
circumstances, and he had expected to be punished as his fellows were;
but this--this was awful. He clinched his hands until the nails dug into
the palms. His face was as pale as death. He sweated with the consuming
fire of impotent rage. He wished that he might run away somewhere where
he could hide and tear things and swear. For a moment only he
entertained the thought, and then a look into the determined face of the
woman at his side drove the thought away. To his childish eyes,
distorted by resentment, she was an implacable and relentless monster
who would follow him with punishment anywhere he might go.
And now they were at Billy Tompkins's door. They had passed through,
and he found himself saying mechanically the words which Miss Prime put
into his mouth, while his tormentor grinned from beside his mother's
chair. Then, after a few words between the women, in which he heard from
Mrs. Tompkins the mysterious words, "Oh, I don't blame you, Miss Hester;
I know that blood will tell," they passed out, and the grinning face of
Billy Tompkins was the last thing that Fred saw. It followed him home.
The hot tears fell from his eyes, but they did not quench the flames
that were consuming him. There is nothing so terrible as the just anger
of a child,--terrible in its very powerlessness. Polyphemus is a giant,
though the mountain hold him down.
Next morning, when Fred went to school, Billy Tompkins with a crowd of
boys about was waiting to deride him; but at sight of his face they
stopped. He walked straight up to his enemy and began striking him with
all his might.
"She made me beg your pardon, did she?" he gasped between the blows;
"well, you take that for it, and that." The boys had fallen back, and
Billy was attempting to defend himself.
"Mebbe she 'll make me do it again to-night. If she does, I 'll give you
some more o' this to-morrow, and every time I have to beg your pardon.
Do you hear?"
The boys cheered lustily, and Billy Tompkins, completely whipped and
ashamed, slunk away.
That night no report of the fight went home. Fred Brent held the master
hand.
In life it is sometimes God and sometimes the devil that comes to the
aid of oppressed humanity. From the means, it is often hard to tell
whose handiwork are the results.