“The childhood shows the man as morning shows the day.”
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Done at last. Mary! Mary! I have succeeded!” shouted a boy, rushing into the room where his mother sat busy with her lace pillow.
“Mary has nearly finished her spinning,” said Mrs. Carey. “She can go now. But what gives you so much pleasure, William? Have you found a new beetle?”
“No, mother; but do you remember the nest in the great chestnut? How I watched the building of it! Three times I went up the tree after it, and each time I fell to the ground. It was a fall from that tree that made me so ill”
“You naughty boy! Three weeks you have been laid up owing to that fall. You have not been climbing the tree again? You can hardly stand yet.”
“I couldn’t help it, mother. Night and day I thought of that nest. It wasn’t so much that I wanted some of the eggs, but it hurt me to be defeated. If I had waited for forty years it would have been just the same. I went directly I could walk and climbed the tree, and here is the nest.”
“That was like your father’s son,” answered Mrs. Carey; “but you ought not to have taken all the eggs in the nest and the nest too. When he was only a poor weaver he was always at his book. No wonder that, when you were six years of age, he obtained his present situation. It is something to be schoolmaster and parish clerk too, and it is all owing to his perseverance.”
“I can’t help it, mother,” said William, arranging the eggs upon the spotless deal table. “When I begin a thing I feel that I must go through with it at any cost I hope I shall do as well at making shoes.”
“True, boy,” answered his mother. “We would rather that you had stayed at home here in Paulerspury; but that skin disease you have had since you were seven years of age will not allow you to work in the fields.”
“It is a pity, mother, for I should so like to have learned farming,” answered William. “But I cannot endure the pain that the sunlight causes me. Still Hackleton is only nine miles away, mother; I shall often come over to see you.”
“Yes, do; for it will be a long time before I shall become accustomed to your being away from home and I like to keep the chickies near me. Five ye were once, but my Lizzie now is in heaven.”
“I am getting on for fourteen now,” answered William, “and I ought to be doing my part to earn a little. Come, Mary, let us go and put these eggs into their place.”
Mary, who was a few years younger than her favorite brother, was nothing loath, and the two were soon busily engaged looking over the treasures in the little room that William called his own. Upon one side a row of long boxes contained beetles, butterflies, and eggs; each specimen was labeled with its name in Carey’s boyish writing. Upon the other side of the room another pile of boxes contained specimens, dried and arranged by William himself, of the botanical treasures of the locality. In one corner birds’ nests were arranged, in the opposite angle a few well-used books were piled in order. Not a thing was out of its place; it was like the youthful master—a picture of neatness.
“Mind, Mary, that you don’t drop any of the straw upon the floor. You must not be careless like Ann. The other day I brought her in here to look at my new beetle, and she dropped three or four threads over the floor. Try, Mary, and make Thomas careful about that very thing, for a little disorder matters a great deal. It shows that whoever made it is careless; and carelessness is almost as bad as laziness.”
“Shall we see to your pets?” asked Mary. “While you were ill I took great care of them. When you are away at Hackleton I will look after them.”
“Do, Mary, do,” answered William. “Be careful not to neglect the birds. If we are careless of God’s dumb creatures, we shall soon be cruel to human beings. But, come, let us go down to the garden; I wish you to see one plant that will require very careful watching.”
Closing the door carefully, after looking to see that nothing was displaced, William hurried from the house, followed by his sister. The schoolmaster’s house stood end to end with the school-room; behind the line of buildings there was a large orchard. At the far corner a little plot of land was marked off by a stone border. This was William’s own garden. Every inch of it was carefully cultivated; it was, like his room, as scrupulously neat as a garden could be.
“Mind, that must not be watered too much, Mary; [illustration] but those are thirsty things, and will take a good deal of water. You are quite sure, Mary, that you can do what I want? I mean that you will not find it too much for you?”
“If I begin it, I will do it, William,” replied Mary. “Now and then, I forget, I know, but I never mean to do so. Oh, no! I will do what you want.”
“Now, then, I will show you how to preserve a specimen. Take a leaf of this, there is plenty of this kind. Come, let us go into the school-room: it will be empty now.”
The school-room was a plain room, its white washed walls and black oaken rafters according with the rude seats upon which the pupils rested. These were benches which consisted of trees sawn down the middle, rude legs being inserted into the round side. But the young botanists thought nothing of the uncomfortable seats; indeed, they had never seen better.
They sat down together, and Mary received her lesson. “Are you sure that you understand?” asked William, after repeating his instructions three or four times.
“Yes, oh yes, I see,” replied Mary.
“Better make sure,” said William. “Now, let me say it over again.”
When he had done so, the boy seemed as lost. “Mary,” he said, “I’m afraid that I shall not be able to search the hedges now. But, don’t you forget that we ought not to pass a single thicket without looking carefully into it; you can never tell what treasures it may hide. Keep all that you may find until I have seen it. Who can tell what great discovery you may make if you only look?”
“Fancy, William! if you were only a laborer here. You would get five shillings a week all to yourself,” said Mary. “What a lot of books you could buy if you had all that money!”
“That is not to be just now, Mary,” replied her brother. “No, not yet; but perhaps I shall get as much money some day.”