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Ebook has 720 lines and 62387 words, and 15 pages

THE LOGGERS' CAMP 219

THE SETTLE 248

BOUNCER'S TAIL 264

THE REFORM SCHOOL 269

CLINTON.

CLINTON, AND HIS HOME.

Most people on entering the little village of Brookdale for the first time, are struck with the beauty of its location. Those who were born there, and who have always lived in sight of its green hills, and pleasant valleys, and frolicsome rivulets, probably do not think so much of these things as does the stranger who happens to come among them, and who has an eye for the beauty of nature. Beautiful objects often lose their attractions when they become familiar to us. If a man were permitted to behold the splendors of a clear evening firmament but once in his life-time, he would be almost enraptured with the sight; but give him the opportunity of gazing at the stars every cloudless night in the year, and he will seldom notice them.

A range of high hills skirt the eastern side of Brookdale, and stretch away to the north, as far as the eye can reach. Towards the west, in a clear day, can be seen the shadowy form of a distant mountain, looking like a dim cloud on the horizon. Near the centre of the village is one of those beautiful little lakes, so common in the State of Maine. Several rivulets, fed by springs in the hills, flow through the village during the greater portion of the year, and empty their sparkling waters into this lake, or pond as it is generally called. It is from this circumstance that the town is called Brookdale.

It was near the foot of one of the hills in this pleasant little village, in a snug farm-house a story and a half high, that Clinton lived. Mr. Davenport, his father, had formerly been a carpenter in another part of the State; but having a taste for farming, he gave up his trade after he had accumulated a little property, and bought the place of which we are speaking. He brought with him, however, a great variety of carpenter's tools, and had a room fitted up for a workshop, where he often did little jobs for himself or some neighbor, when a rainy day kept him indoors. This room was in the rear of the house, adjoining the pantry, so that it was not necessary to go out of the house to reach it. Clinton spent a great many happy hours in this shop; for though he was only thirteen years old, he had considerable mechanical skill, and could handle the plane, the saw, the bit, and most of the other tools, in quite a workmanlike style. As he was careful not to injure the tools, his father allowed him to use them whenever he wished.

There were some very creditable specimens of Clinton's skill at carpentry about the house, which he took no little pride in showing to visitors, as well he might. For instance, there was the martin-house, on a tall pole in the garden, which was a complete miniature model of the farm-house itself, including the long "kitchen-end" in the rear. To make the resemblance as close as possible, Clinton gave this bird-house two coats of white paint, and also painted imitation windows in black. On the barn there was another tall, straight staff, with a vane representing a prancing horse, all the work of Clinton's own hands. The trellises on each side of the front door of the house which supported the climbing roses and honeysuckles, were likewise his handiwork.

Clinton did not like to have any one show him how to do a thing, if he could possibly get along without it. I suppose it was for this reason that he never wanted others to know what he was at work upon, until it was completed. His father would sometimes laugh at him on this account, and repeat to him the saying of Doctor Franklin, that the man who depends on teaching himself will have a fool for his master. But this did not move Clinton in his resolution. It is a good plan to profit as much as we can by the experience and advice of others; but after all, there are many things to which this rule will not apply. The boy who works out a hard sum alone, and refuses to let any one show him how to do it, will derive much more benefit from the exercise than though he had been assisted by others. So, no doubt, Clinton owed no little of his skill in carpentry to the fact that he did not run to his father for advice and assistance every time he met with a little difficulty.

Clinton had one sister, but no brothers; her name was Annie; and she was seven years younger than her brother. She was a beautiful child, with large, blue eyes full of confidence and love, a fat, rosy face, and hair that hung in golden curls about her white shoulders. She was all gentleness and affection, and was the pet and favorite of the household. No boy of his age ever loved a sister more than Clinton did his. Though she was so much younger than himself, he spent much of his time with her, joining in sports in which she could take a part, or making playthings for her amusement. It was very rarely that he allowed himself to use an unkind or impatient word toward her; and when he did, he was sure to repent of it, for he could not bear the silent and sorrowful reproach of those eyes. Annie, for her part, was proud of her brother, and returned, with interest, all the affection he bestowed upon her. She was sure that no other little girl in Brookdale had such a brother; and when this subject was talked about after school one day, she was not a little offended with Susan Lovering, because she persisted in maintaining that her brother Herbert was just as good and as ingenious a boy as Clinton Davenport. Annie thought the idea absurd, and it was some time before she could forgive Susan for making such a remark.

The only other inmate of the house I have described, was Clinton's mother. Mrs. Davenport was an excellent woman, gentle and lady-like in her manners, and extremely fond of her children. Mr. Davenport employed one or two hired men on his farm a portion of the year, but they did not live with the family.

"Father," said Clinton one day, on coming home from the mill, and before he had alighted from the wagon, "Father, may I keep some ducks?"

"Ducks! what do you want of them, Clinty?" inquired his father.

"Why, I've just seen Jerry Preston, and he's got some real handsome ones, and he says I may have four of them for a dollar."

"Yes, but that isn't answering my question. No doubt Jerry would be glad to sell his ducks, but what do you want of them, and what will you do with them? We must always think of these things before we buy anything. I am not so sure but that if you had the ducks you would be almost as badly off as the man who came into possession of an elephant, which he could not keep, sell, nor give away."

"Why, father," replied Clinton, "I can build a little house to keep them in, down by the side of the brook, and Jerry says they will lay more than eggs enough to pay for their keeping. They don't need so much grain as hens do. They look real handsome, too, sailing on the water."

"Well, if you are willing to pay for them out of your own money, and will provide a suitable place for them, I don't know as I shall object to your keeping a few. But it seems to me you might make a better bargain than you propose. Won't Jerry sell you some eggs?"

"I don't know as he has any, yet, for he has just begun to keep ducks; but I will ask him."

"Do so," said Mr. Davenport, "and if he will sell you a dozen, at a reasonable price, you may buy them."

"But of what use will the eggs be, father, without a duck to hatch them?" inquired Clinton.

"Never mind about that now," replied his father, "you get the eggs first, and then we will see what we can do with them."

Clinton was already somewhat largely interested in the poultry line. When he was nine years old, his father gave him all the fowls belonging to the farm, on condition that he should assume the whole charge of them, and take good care of them. There were in all about twenty hens and chickens, and half a dozen young turkeys. Mr. Davenport agreed to pay Clinton for all the eggs and poultry they needed for the table, but Clinton must purchase with his own money whatever was necessary for the subsistence of the fowls. Clinton was much pleased with this arrangement; and as he knew that when men engage in business they usually keep account books, in which they record all the sums they spend or receive, he procured a few sheets of paper, with which he made a little blank book, for this purpose. His first entry was simply an enumeration of his fowls, with an estimate of their value; or, as the merchant would call it, a schedule of his stock in trade. It was as follows:--

Commenced this account July 18th, 1847, with the following fowls:--

Whenever he sold any eggs, he entered the date, the number sold, and the price, on a page which he reserved for this purpose. On the opposite page, he set down the sums which he paid his father for the corn and meal consumed by his fowls. At the end of the first year, he struck a balance, to use a mercantile expression; that is, he added up the various sums he had received and spent, and ascertained how much he had made by the year's operations. His account stood thus:--

DR.

Value of fowls on hand one year ago ,20

CR.

Now on hand, 2 roosters and 32 hens and pullets, worth 36 cents each ,24

Of this profit, ,99 was in the shape of hens and turkeys, and ,48 in ready cash, safely deposited in the old bureau drawer, in Clinton's bed-room.

The second year, Clinton made a much larger profit on his poultry, his father having given him a patch of ground, where he raised with his own hand a crop of corn sufficient to carry his fowls through the year. At the end of this year, he had about ,00 in money, which his fowls had earned for him; and as he continued every year to raise his own grain, when he was thirteen years old, he had about ,00 in cash, which, at his request, his father had deposited in a bank in Portland, where it earned him interest. In addition to this, he had about ,00 worth of hens and turkeys; so that the ,20 worth of fowls which his father gave him, had, by his own industry and prudence, swelled into 0 in four years.

The same afternoon on which the conversation upon ducks was held, Clinton managed to run over to Jerry's again, to see if he could procure the eggs. Jerry told him he had not now got enough for a litter, but would be able to supply him in a few days. Clinton therefore engaged the first dozen he should have, for which he agreed to pay 25 cents.

"Now, father," said Clinton a few days after, as he uncovered the box of eggs for which he had bargained, "now I am ready for you."

"You don't need any assistance," replied Mr. Davenport; "all you have got to do, now, is to give the eggs to Specky, and she will do the rest."

Specky was one of Clinton's hens, and this name was given to her, on account of her speckled feathers. She had recently taken it into her head that she wanted to raise a family of little Speckies; but as Clinton did not happen to coincide with her in this matter, she had done nothing but make herself miserable for several days. Every chance she could get, she would jump into the nest, and commence setting, as though she were determined to bring a chicken out of the chalk nest-egg. When Clinton approached to take her off the nest, she would scream and cluck with all her might, which I suppose was her way of scolding; and when he put her down, she would squat upon the ground, and refuse to budge an inch. He was obliged to shut her up alone in a little coop, to reform her bad manners; but she had not got over her stubbornness, at the time Mr. Davenport told Clinton to let her take charge of the ducks' eggs.

"But," said Clinton, on receiving this direction, "will she set on those eggs?"

"Yes," replied his father, "she will set on any thing that looks like an egg, and be glad of the chance, too. And besides, she will make a better mother to the little ducklings than their real mother would prove. The duck is so fond of the water, that when she once gets into it, she is apt to forget all about her eggs, until they get cold, and are spoilt. And if she should not fall into this blunder, and hatches her brood successfully, the first thing she does is to give the poor, weak things a cold bath, no matter how chilly or stormy it is. They can't stand this rough treatment very well, and for this reason it is better to let hens do the setting and hatching, when there are any ducks to be raised."

All this was new to Clinton, as he had never had any experience in the management of the duck family. He followed his father's directions, however, and as madame Specky seemed delighted with the arrangement, he was satisfied. The next day, he set about building a house for the expected new comers, down in the meadow, by the side of the brook. This was something of an undertaking, for a boy of his age, but he took hold with a right good will, and by devoting to it all the time he could spare from his other duties, he had it completed, and ready for the ducks to move into, long before they had begun to show their heads.

At this time Clinton was not attending school, for the very good reason that there was no school in the place. The law of the State only required that every town should support a public school three months in the year; and as Brookdale had but a small and scattered population, the people did not think it advisable to continue their school any longer than the winter term, which lasted from the first of December to the first of March. During this season of the year, the lads and lasses of all ages, from six or seven years up to eighteen or twenty, turned out and attended the same school, and made the most of their brief opportunities for acquiring knowledge.

But though there were nine months of every year that Clinton did not attend school, he was not allowed to neglect his studies, during these long vacations. Both of his parents had received good educations in their youth, and they knew too well the value of the benefits thus secured, to allow their children to grow up in ignorance. Mrs. Davenport had once been a teacher herself, and it was now but a pleasant task to give Clinton and Annie their daily lessons, and to listen to their recitations. Mr. Davenport, too, had taught a school for one or two terms, when a young man. The branches which Clinton was now studying, were reading, writing, arithmetic, and grammar. He was required to devote two hours to his studies, each day, no matter how much work he had to do, or how much he wanted to play. In the evening his mother heard him recite, and gave him such assistance as he needed. In this way, he made considerable progress in his studies, though perhaps he did not learn as fast as he could had he enjoyed school privileges all the time. During the portion of the year he attended school, he always ranked above other boys of his own age, and was considered one of the best scholars in town.

Clinton also performed a good deal of work for his parents, when he did not attend school. In the spring he used to drive the ploughing team, while his father or the hired man guided the plough through the soil. He likewise made himself very handy in planting season; and in mid-summer he could rake the hay or hoe the corn and potatoes, almost as well as a man. He knew how to build a stone-wall, or to make a compost-heap, or to litter and feed the oxen, or to chop wood; for all these things, and many others, he had been taught to do. He was not required to labor too hard, or too long at one time; but his father wished him to learn to work while young, believing he would be happier if he had some useful employment for a portion of his leisure time. And Clinton found this to be true. He not only learned a great many useful things, from his daily labors, but he found that after working a few hours, he could enjoy his sports with much more zest than if he had idled away all his time in trying to amuse himself. Besides, it was no little satisfaction to know that he could be of some service to his parents, to whose care and affection he was so greatly indebted.

JERRY AND OSCAR.

After Clinton had finished his duck-house, he noticed that the water was getting quite low in the brook. It was the month of August, and the season had been very hot and dry, so that the springs in the hills, which fed the brook, had almost given out. While he was thinking what his ducks would do for water if the brook should dry entirely up, it occurred to him that he might make a little pond, to be filled from the brook, which would afford a good place for his ducks to swim, and might also prolong the supply of water. Having obtained his father's consent, he set about the job at once. He was busily at work, digging out the peat or mud for this pond, one warm afternoon, when he happened to look up and saw two boys by the side of him. As their eyes met, one of them exclaimed,--

"An' faith, Patrick, what are ye after doin' now? Is it for goold ye are diggin', sure? or are ye goin' to make a river of the brook? Why don't ye spake, ye bogtrotter, hey?"

Clinton laughed at this rough salutation, but perhaps he felt that there was a slight tinge of unkindness in the joke, as he turned his eye from the neat dress of the speaker, to his own heavy boots loaded with mud, and his coarse and well-worn pantaloons, the bottoms of which were tucked into his boots.

"But you do look just like a Paddy, Clin, I'll leave it to Jerry if you don't," continued the speaker, who was a cousin of Jerry Preston's, and was named Oscar.

Jerry agreed that it was so. "But," he continued, "what are you trying to make, Clin? I should really like to know."

"Wait a few days and you will see," replied Clinton.

"The same old story," said Oscar, "'wait and you'll see;' you needn't think you can get anything more than that out of him, Jerry."

"I guess he has taken a contract to dig a cellar for somebody," continued Jerry. "See him put in!" he added, as Clinton resumed his work.

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