ROBERT'S LESSON.
"HOW many soldiers did you say there were, Robert?" inquired his aunt.
"Seven hundred and sixty-eight."
"Come and sit by me. I want to say something; and I want your whole
attention. Ellen, will you sit in the library a few minutes?"
"Have I been naughty, aunt Josey?" inquired the boy rather frightened
at the lady's serious face.
"No, but listen! Do you know why I asked you to count the soldiers in
the regiment?"
"I suppose you're going to give them stockings as you did the other
one. I saw heaps and heaps piled up in the back room and little balls
of yarn to mend them with."
"No, Robert! I was simply trying an experiment on you. When I visited
Georgetown last spring, I found your mother worried about you. She
told me she had made great sacrifices to keep you at school; but the
teachers complained that you would not study, that you were too lazy
to make the necessary application. She shed tears as she talked with
me; and I tried to comfort her. I knew she had not herself the time
to spend on your lessons, because your grandparents need so much
attention. And then I made some excuse for you on account of their
indulgence."
"Yes, aunty, I never could study there, grandpa used to want me to play
dominoes with him; and grandma was always calling me to hold yarn for
her to wind. And then they didn't believe in keeping boys too strict.
They said it cowed me down to study so much."
"I'm afraid you don't know what the word study means, Robert;—but I
was telling you how I came to invite you here. Your father was my dear
brother. He was the oldest, and I the youngest child. Five brothers and
sisters between us died. We clung to each other more on that account I
believe. When he died, he made me promise to interest myself for you,
his only child, and I have tried to do so."
Mrs. Woodward sat silent for a few minutes, her thoughts reverting to
the painful scene. Her dying brother lying in bed propped by pillows,
herself seated by his side, trying to calm her fears in order to listen
to his last words.
"I made a mistake, Josephine," he said faintly, "a mistake which has
blighted my whole life. Father was right when he told me he did not
think my feelings for Annie would last. Ah, it was true, a fancy, a
boy's fancy for a pretty face and lively manners, that was all. She has
nothing to inspire a lasting affection, but I have tried never to let
her know this. She has been satisfied with what I could give her; but
my boy. Oh, Josephine! I cannot leave my boy under such influences as
he will have at his grandfather's. By our love to each other, I ask you
to do what you can for him."
Then she recalled her answer given freely, heartily.
"I will, brother, I will."
She was recalled from the past by a growl from Major who was standing
by Robert submitting with as much patience as he could to having his
ears pulled. Quietly the lady rose, and put the dog from the room.
"You must attend now," she said firmly, though there were tears in
her eyes. "I told your mother I would bring you home with me for one
year; and I would do my best to cultivate a love for study. I did not
encourage her to suppose that you would ever become a professional man
as your father was, but that you would try to apply yourself so as to
make a man of business, I had no doubt.
"Now, Robert, almost four months have passed. I have devoted to your
lessons nearly twice the time I give Ellen, but I can not see that you
have improved in the least. You know why I do not send you to school,
because the boys of your age are so much in advance of you, that you
were ready to cry for shame, and because you promised faithfully to do
your best.
"Yesterday, I was so discouraged, I was on the point of sending you
back to your mother. Only my promise to your father to do what I
could for you, held me back. I began to be really afraid you were
wanting in some faculty of mind so that you could not apply yourself.
I resolved to try an experiment. That is the reason I asked you to
count the soldiers. It really required quite an effort to number them
correctly. I stood behind you and did it, but you had no difficulty.
Why, Robert? Just because you were interested. I am relieved on one
point. You can study and apply your mind if you please; and you are
acting very wickedly to waste your time and energies as you have done
since you have been here with me. God has given you health, a fine
constitution and a good mind. He requires you to use them. You remember
the unfaithful steward who hid his talent in the earth; and how God
punished him.
"Soon your opportunities for study will be passed, and the time for
entering upon the duties of a man will come. How will you meet these
responsibilities? You can neither be a merchant, nor a farmer, without
some degree of book learning. Now you can neither write nor spell
correctly, to your mother. How could you make out a bill, or keep
accounts? If you went into society, you would not be respected, because
you cannot talk good English; and you will not apply yourself properly
to the study of English grammar."
"I don't understand it. I have tried, 'deed I have," faltered Robert in
a grieved tone.
"No, I don't think you really have tried. Your mind floats about like
a cork on the water, and the longer you allow it to do so, the more
difficult it will be to apply yourself."
"What shall I do, aunt Josephine? I like to stay here a great deal
better than I do at home."
"Why do you?"
"Oh, for a good many reasons! I had to cut up the kindling every
morning; and then we didn't have very good things to eat. Besides I had
to wear old patched clothes."