THE TROUBLESOME SCHOLAR.
THERE was one boy in the academy who still caused Marcus no little
anxiety. His name was Harrison Clark, and he was about fourteen years
old, and large for his age. This was his first term at the academy. He
was from an adjoining town, and but little was known of him, except
what he himself chose to divulge. The achievement of his short life
upon which he seemed to pride himself most, was a fight he had with his
former teacher, a month or two before this, in which, according to his
representation, he came off victor; and he had been heard to threaten a
similar infliction upon Marcus, should that personage attempt to
chastise him. One or two of the elder pupils were anxious that the
insolence of this pert young gentleman should be checked by a sound
thrashing, and they even intimated to the teacher that aid would not be
wanting, in case the boy should offer serious resistance. But Marcus
thought there was a more excellent way to subdue him, and determined to
try it, before resorting to harsh measures.
Marcus happened one day to fall in with a townsman of Harrison, from
whom he gathered all the information he could in regard to the career
and character of the boy. It appeared that he had been governed with
severity, both at home and at school, so far as he had been governed at
all. He had steadily grown worse, however, under this discipline, and
his parents, finding they could do nothing with him, had sent him away
to school, as the easiest way to rid themselves of a constant trouble.
They were finally led to this course, by his altercation with his
teacher. Several boys, it seemed, got into a wild frolic in the
school-room, one day, before the opening of the session, in the course
of which Harrison threw an inkstand at another lad, by which his face
and clothes were stained, and the walls, floor, and seats soiled. The
teacher, after investigating the matter, ordered Harrison to hold out
his hand for punishment, which he refused to do, in an insolent manner.
The teacher then attempted to seize his hand, but failing in this, he
tripped the boy upon the floor, and a regular scuffle ensued. Another
boy, still larger than Harrison, now rushed to the assistance of the
latter, and before the disgraceful affray ended, they inflicted two or
three serious blows upon the teacher, and then fled. They were both
arrested for assault, and after a trial before a justice, were fined,
Harrison ten dollars and the other boy five, besides the cost of the
trial, which was divided between them. While it must be confessed that
their punishment was just, I think few will deny that the teacher also
was to be blamed for the part he acted in the affray.
“Now can’t you tell me something good about Harrison?” inquired Marcus,
after listening to the foregoing recital. “I believe there is always
some good trait in every person, however bad.”
“Well,” replied the other, “I’m thinking it would be rather hard to
find anything very good about that chap. I don’t think he’s very
hardened yet, but there’s precious little goodness about him, I can
tell you. He thinks a good deal of his mother, and that’s the best
thing I ever saw about him. And he ought to like her, for she’s a right
down good woman—only she’s one of your easy, gentle sort, that oughtn’t
to have anything to do with such a young scapegrace as he is.”
Although Harrison had made himself sufficiently troublesome in the
school-room, he had thus far avoided all flagrant offences. He
manifested his disposition by an air of quiet insolence and defiance,
and by petty acts of annoyance, too trivial for serious notice, even
could they be proved against him, which was seldom the case. It was
evident, however, that he was becoming emboldened by the absence of
restraints and punishments with which he had been familiar in school,
and Marcus looked forward with some solicitude to the certainty of an
open collision with him, which day by day seemed more imminent.
Meanwhile, the attempts of Marcus to win him over by kindness were not
very well rewarded. If he spoke kindly to the boy on the play-ground or
at his desk, he got no pleasant word or grateful look, in return. If he
tried to draw him into conversation, the responses came grudgingly in
monosyllables. On Saturday, he invited Harrison to come over to pass
the afternoon with him and the children; but the boy did not come;
worse yet, he did not say whether he would or not; and still worse, he
expressed no thanks for the invitation.
One cold morning, soon after the school opened, Marcus was somewhat
annoyed by the coughing of the scholars—not a very unusual occurrence
at that season. Having reduced the school to perfect silence, so that
the falling of a pin might have been heard, he proceeded to say:—
“I notice that many of the scholars have rather troublesome coughs. I
have a cold myself, and I suppose I could cough as hard as any of you,
if I chose to. But I am not going to do it. There are two objections to
coughing. One is, it is injurious. The effort required in coughing is
apt to tear the delicate fibres of the lungs. Sometimes people burst
blood-vessels, while coughing, and die in consequence. The other
objection is, it is unpleasant to those around us, especially in a
school-room, church, or other public assembly. Sometimes, I admit, it
is necessary to cough; but I think most of our coughing is unnecessary.
By a little attention, and a little effort of the will, we can prevent
it. Now I propose that those who have colds try the experiment with me,
and we will see who will hold out longest without coughing.”
Marcus had no sooner closed, than Harrison fell into a violent fit of
coughing, which it was evident to all was feigned. Some of the younger
scholars smiled at this ill-mannered freak, but others looked daggers
at its perpetrator. Marcus uttered no rebuke, but the eyes of the rogue
fell before his steady, quiet, searching look.
A day or two after this, there was great excitement in the village,
occasioned by the discovery that several sheep had been killed by
bears, the tracks of which were found in the neighborhood of “Turkey
Hill.” The presence of these animals in the town had been suspected for
several weeks, but this was their first attack upon the sheep-folds of
the farmers. Arrangements were at once made for a grand bear hunt, the
next afternoon, and all the male population, above fifteen years of
age, were invited to take part in it.
Marcus found, the next morning, that most of his boys had come to
school prepared to join in the hunt, either as participants or
spectators. All who could, had procured guns, and as the lads and young
men lounged around the academy, in groups, examining and comparing
their arms, a stranger might have suspected the existence of a “school
rebellion” of a really startling description. But when the bell struck,
the guns were peaceably deposited in the ante-room, and the school-room
assumed its usual quiet aspect. At recess several of the boys were
dismissed, having brought notes from home, requesting Marcus to excuse
them at that hour. Two or three others petitioned for a similar favor,
but, having no authority from their parents for making the request,
Marcus felt obliged to deny them. He did this the more easily, because
he thought the request a needless one. The hunting party was not to
rendezvous until half past twelve o’clock—half an hour after the
session closed for the day, for it was Saturday. Nevertheless, Harrison
Clark, who was one of the disappointed applicants, appeared to think
differently; for when the boys were called in from recess, he was
missing. On looking from a window, Marcus saw him standing, gun in
hand, near the post office, where a crowd of men appeared to be
discussing the arrangements of the day. One of the large scholars was
despatched to bring the runaway back; but Harrison saw the young man
approaching, and mistrusting his errand, took to his heels, and made
good his escape.
At twelve o’clock the session closed, the contents of sundry little
baskets and tin pails were hurriedly disposed of for the benefit of the
inner man, and most of the boys, accompanied by their teacher, then
proceeded to the place of rendezvous. After waiting awhile for tardy
stragglers, the hunting party was found to muster over a hundred men
and boys, all armed. An experienced hunter was chosen captain, a few
directions were given to the men, and the line of march was then taken
up for Turkey Hill, some two miles distant.
On reaching the hunting ground, the guns were loaded, and the party
then proceeded to form a ring around the hill, which was a low
eminence, densely wooded, and abounding with ledges. Two files of men
started in opposite directions, and encircled the hill until they met,
scattering themselves apart as they proceeded. Then, to test the
connection of the ring in all its parts, the captain cried to his left
hand man, “_Are you there?_” and he taking up the call, according to a
previously arranged plan, shouted it to the man on his left, and thus
it passed around, until it came back in a few moments to the leader. He
then gave the order, “_Forward!_” in a similar manner; and as it ran
round the line, the party began its slow march up the hill. They
continued to ascend, gradually closing up the circle, until it embraced
only about an acre of woods. The circle was now quite impervious to any
animal, the hunters being within a few yards of each other. Only a
small portion of the ring, however, was visible at any one point, owing
to the trees and brush, and the inequality of the surface. Every gun
was now cocked, and every eye was straining itself, to detect some sign
of the presence of Bruin. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gun was heard,
followed by another, and another; and almost immediately, a large bear
bounded out, towards the part of the circle where Marcus and Oscar were
stationed. But ere the poor beast could reach the line, a score of
bullets were buried in his body, and he fell dead. Loud and long was
the shout of triumph that went up from every side; and still louder did
it grow, when it was found that this was not the only trophy, but that
another though much smaller bear had been shot on the opposite side of
the ring, when the reports of firearms were first heard.
The two carcasses were placed on sleds, and dragged to the village by
the boys. The largest bear was found to weigh about four hundred and
fifty pounds, but the weight of the other was a little short of two
hundred pounds. Before the people separated for their homes, the two
carcasses were put up at auction, and sold for about fifteen dollars.
It was voted to give the money to the owner of the sheep killed by the
bears—an aged man, in needy circumstances, who looked the gratitude he
could not speak, when the generous proposal was ratified by a hearty
“Aye!”
On Monday morning, when Marcus read to the school the names of
absentees at the previous session, and called for excuses, he came to
the following entry: “Harrison Clark—left at recess.” He paused a
moment, and as no excuse was offered, added—
“Harrison, when school is dismissed in the afternoon, you may come to
my desk.”
“This _after_noon or _fore_noon?” inquired Harrison, not at all
abashed.
“I said this _after_noon,” replied Marcus, who postponed the matter
until that hour, because of the limited intermission from studies at
noon.
As Marcus anticipated, Harrison was going off without paying any regard
to this command, in the afternoon; but when called he went back, saying
by way of apology that he forgot all about the matter. When they were
alone, Marcus inquired, very pleasantly—
“Well, Harrison, how did you enjoy yourself, Saturday afternoon?”
“First-rate—didn’t you?” coolly replied the boy.
“Do you think you enjoyed the hunt as much as you would if you hadn’t
gone off at recess, contrary to my express orders?” inquired Marcus.
“Well, yes, I don’t see as that made any difference,” replied Harrison,
looking as calm and unconcerned as though he were discussing the point
with some comrade.
“I see you are inclined to be frank,” continued Marcus. “I am glad of
that—I like frank, open dealing in everybody, boys as well as men.
Don’t you?”
“Why, yes, I do,” replied the boy.
“And are you willing to be perfectly frank with me, if I will be so
with you, in talking over matters now?” inquired Marcus.
“Well, I can’t stop long—I agreed to go somewhere, after school,”
replied Harrison.
“But we must attend to this business first,” replied Marcus, in a
decided tone. “Now if you say you will deal frankly with me, I will
proceed at once.”
“Well, I will,” said Harrison.
“Then I will be equally frank with you, and so we shall have a fair
understanding of each other,” replied Marcus. “I have noticed for
several weeks, especially since Mr. Upton has been sick, that you were
inclined to be disrespectful towards me, and to annoy me and the school
by certain little improprieties that it was difficult to prove wilful,
though they certainly seemed to be so. As I know of no reason why you
should wish to trouble me—for I believe I have always treated you
kindly—I have taken as charitable a view of this as I could. I have
tried to think that you did not mean any harm, but were only a little
odd in your ways. But when you set my authority at defiance so coolly,
last Saturday, I saw that something more serious than oddity was the
matter. And that something has got to be met, promptly and decidedly.
Now there are two ways of meeting such a spirit in a scholar. One way
is, to inflict a severe and disgraceful punishment, which will serve as
a warning to the other pupils, if it does not reform the guilty one.
The other way is, to win him from his error by mild and kind means.
“Now, Harrison, you know very well which of these systems of government
we have adopted here. You have seen no rod or ruler, since you came
here, and I hope you will not, if you stay through the term. But that
is by no means certain. Sometimes, when mild measures fail, Mr. Upton
adopts stern ones; but he always tries kindness first. There is only
one other resort, in desperate cases, and that is, to expel the
offender. Now, if I have been rightly informed, the harsh system had
been pretty faithfully tried upon you before you came here, had it
not?”
“I should think it had—but it didn’t do any good,” replied Harrison.
“And now kindness has been tried, and _that_ has done no good,” added
Marcus, with a serious look. “What more can be done? Do you think that
you ought to be privileged to do as you please, while all the other
scholars are required to be obedient, and orderly, and respectful? You
said you would be frank with me; now will you answer me that question,
honestly?”
“I suppose not,” replied Harrison, rather reluctantly.
“Very well, now I wish you to answer another question, as frankly as
you did that,” continued Marcus. “Do you think I ought to be expected
to sacrifice my feelings, and strength, and time, in trying harsh
measures upon a boy, when the experiment has already been made by
others, and, as he admits, without any good result?”
“No, sir,” replied the boy, in a more respectful tone than usual.
“Neither do I,” said Marcus. “Then if kind measures fail, as they have
in your case, so far, expulsion is the only remedy left; and that, of
itself, is a very harsh, and painful, and disgraceful punishment. I
can’t bear to think of it. It is casting the boy out from influences
that might save him, into a world of new temptations and dangers. If he
were the only one involved, I would put up with a great many
provocations, before I would sentence a boy to such a fate as that. But
the interests of the school sometimes require that a scholar should be
expelled, and then the teacher must do his duty, however painful it may
be. In such a case, the teacher and the boy are not the only sufferers.
The parents and friends of the offender often suffer even worse than he
does. I hear, Harrison, that you have an excellent mother. Is it so?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boy.
“I have been told,” continued Marcus, “that she is a very kind, gentle,
and sensitive woman. I hear, also, that you appear to think a great
deal of her, and I hope the report is true, for a _good_ mother is a
blessing for which we can never be too grateful.”
The expression of the boy’s face, at this mention of his mother,
indicated that the report was not without foundation.
“Now,” continued Marcus, “how would your mother feel, if you should go
home, and tell her that you had been expelled from the academy, for
misconduct? Would it not almost break her heart? For her sake, as well
as yours, I hope we shall not have to fall back upon that last resort.
But as I promised to be frank with you, I must tell you, in all
sincerity, that the course you have been pursuing will certainly lead
to expulsion, if not abandoned. I do not say this to frighten you, but
I am honestly pointing out to you a _real_ danger, and one that you
will assuredly encounter very soon, if you do not take warning. You
have been quite frank with me, so far, now I want to know if you will
give me a plain and honest answer to one more question?”
“I will,” replied Harrison.
“I am going to ask the question now,” continued Marcus, “but you need
not answer it to-night. I would rather that you should take time to
think it over, and let me know your decision to-morrow. The question is
this—whether you intend to keep on in your old habits, as though
nothing had happened, or will you try to correct the faults I have
mentioned? You will please to take notice that the question refers only
to your _intentions_. I do not ask you to promise never to disobey or
be disrespectful again; but if you have any intention, or even the
slightest wish, to reform these habits, I want you to say so, and I
will help you all I can to accomplish the work. On the other hand, if
you really prefer to do as you have been doing, I want you to tell me
that, just as candidly. Remember you promised to be frank. You can go,
now, and to-morrow you may tell me your decision.”
Harrison’s bearing was somewhat more subdued and respectful than usual,
when he left Marcus. The same peculiarity was apparent in his conduct
the next day, in school. When school was dismissed at noon, Harrison
went of his own accord to the teacher’s desk, and said:—
“Mr. Page, I’ve thought over that matter that we talked about
yesterday, and I’ve made up my mind to try to do better, hereafter.”
“I am very glad to hear you say so, Harrison,” replied Marcus, grasping
the boy kindly by the hand. “If that is your intention, I have no doubt
we shall get along pleasantly enough after this.”
“I’m sorry I went off, Saturday, and I wont do such a thing again,”
added Harrison.
“That was quite a serious act of disobedience,” replied Marcus,
“although I have refrained from saying much about it directly, thus
far. If I should conclude that the offence required some kind of
punishment, notwithstanding this confession, do you feel as though you
could submit to it cheerfully?”
“Yes, sir, I think I could,” replied Harrison, rather hesitatingly.
“I suppose the fact that you ran away is known to all the scholars,”
observed Marcus. “Now should you be willing to make the apology as
publicly as the offence?”
This was a pretty severe test for Harrison. Remembering the braggadocio
with which he had alluded to his offence, only the day before, in the
presence of many of his school-mates, it was hard to say he was willing
to stand up before them all, and humbly acknowledge his fault.
“Give me a frank answer, that is all I ask,” added Marcus, as he
perceived the conflict in his pupil’s mind.
“Well, I suppose I ought to confess in public, and I must do it, if you
say so, but it will come dreadful hard,” replied the boy, who seemed
anxious and perplexed.
“Yes, I suppose it would be a very disagreeable duty,” said Marcus;
“and on the whole, I think I will not ask it of you. The scholars know
that I have taken private notice of the offence, and perhaps that will
answer every purpose. If you will show to them a better example
hereafter, that is all I will require, this time. The past shall all be
forgiven and forgotten.”
The boy looked pleased and grateful, and before retiring, repeated his
promise of amendment. This promise he kept. His feelings towards Marcus
seemed to have undergone an entire change. True, every fault in his
character and conduct was not corrected at once; but as there seemed to
be a prevailing disposition in him to conform to the rules of the
school, united with a sincere respect for his teacher, Marcus looked
upon his errors as leniently as possible, and endeavored to encourage
him in his good work by every proper method.
The next Monday, Mr. Upton resumed his post, and complimented Marcus
very highly on finding the academy in so prosperous a state.
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