Bart Ridgeley Part 12

"Well, General," said Bart, crestfallen, "I've only had the book a week, and although I don't memorize easily, I believe I can commit the whole before a month is out, except the notes."

"Oh, my dear boy, it isn't that! I don't know but there is a man in the world who, without having seen a law book before, has taken up and mastered the first volume of Blackstone in a week, but I never heard of him. What will never do is--it will not do for you to go on in this way; you would read up a library in a year, if you lived, but will die in six months, at this rate."

With tears in his eyes, Bart said: "Do not fear me, General; I am strong and healthy; besides, there are a good many things worse than death."

"I am serious," said the General. "No mortal can stand such work long."

"Well, General, I must work while the fit is on; I am thought to be incapable of keeping to any one thing long."

"How old are you?"

"In my twenty-second year."

"Have you ever practised speaking in public?"

"I am thought to make sharp and rough answers to folks, quite too much, I believe," answered Bart, laughing; "but, save in a debating school, where I was ruled out for creating disorder, I've never tried speech-making."

"You will grow more thoughtful as you grow older," said the General.

"If I do," said Bart, "I know those who think I can't grow old fast enough."

The General gave him the second volume of Blackstone, with the injunction to be two weeks with it.

"Suppose I finish it in a week?"

"You must not; but if you do, bring it back, and take a scolding."

"Certainly," said Bart.

The General asked him to go in to tea. Bart thought that would not do, and excused himself.

The end of another week found Bart at the end of the second volume, and also at General Ford's office. The General was away; but he found an opportunity further to cultivate the acquaintance of Mrs. Ford, who introduced him to several of her circle of acquaintance, and permitted him to take the third volume of Blackstone.

The work was finished with the fourth week, to General Ford's satisfaction, and Bart was then set to try his teeth on Buller's "Nisi Prius," made up of the most condensed of all possible abstracts of intricate cases, stated in the fewest possible words, and those of old legal significance, the whole case often not occupying more than four or five lines.

The cases, as there stated, convey no shadow of an idea to the unlearned mind. What a tussle poor Bart had with them! How often he turned them over, and bit at and hammered them, before they could be made to reveal themselves.

The General looked grim when he handed him the book, and said that he did so by the advice of Judge Hitchc.o.c.k. He also loaned him Adam Smith and Junius, with permission to take any books from his library during the winter, and they parted--the General to go to his duties in the Legislature, and Barton to work his way on through the winter and into the law.

The devotion of Bart to his books took him wholly from a.s.sociation with others. He wrote occasionally to Henry, saying little of what he was doing, and going rarely to the post-office, and never elsewhere.

He developed more his care of his mother, and a protecting tenderness to his younger brothers.

Kate Fisher's little party came and went, without Bart's attendance.

The Major was spreading himself out in building houses, clearing land, and unconsciously preparing the way to a smash-up; and the immediate care of the family devolved more and more upon the younger brother.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE YOUNG IDEA SHOOTS.

There was a region south, on the State road, partly in the towns.h.i.+ps of Auburn and Mantua, that, like "the woods," long remained a wilderness, and was known as the "Mantua Woods." Within the last year or two, the whole of it had been sold and settled, with the average of new settlers, strong, plain, simple people, with a sprinkling of the rough, and a little element of the dangerous.

They had built there a neat frame school-house, just on the banks of Bridge Creek, and were fully bent on availing themselves of the benefits of the Ohio Common School Fund and laws.

Here, on one bleak, late November Monday morning, in front of the new school-house, stood Bart Ridgeley, who appeared then and there pursuant to a stipulation made with him, to keep their first school.

He undertook it with great doubt of his ability to instruct the pupils, but with none of his capacity to manage them. He stood surrounded by some forty young specimens of both s.e.xes and all ages--from rough, stalwart young men, bold and fearless in eye and bearing, down to urchins of five. One-half were girls, and among them several well-grown la.s.ses, rustic and sweet.

There had also come up seven or eight of the princ.i.p.al patrons, to see the young school-master and learn of the prospects. They were evidently disappointed, and wondered what "Morey" could be thinking of to hire that pale, green boy, with his neat dress and gloves, to come down there. Grid Bingham or John Craft would throw him out of the window in a week. Finally, Jo Keys did not hesitate to recommend him to go home; while Canfield, who knew his brother Morris, thought he had better try the school.

Bart was surprised and indignant. He cut the matter very short.

"Gentlemen," he said quietly, but most decidedly, "I came down here to keep your school, and I shall certainly do it," with a little nod of his head to Keys. "I shall be glad to see you at almost any other time, but just now I am engaged." The decided way in which he put an end to the interview was not without its effect.

He called the scholars in, and began. They brought every sort of reading-book, from the Bible, English Reader, American Preceptor, Columbian Orator, Third Part, etc., to a New England Primer. But beyond reading, and spelling, and writing, he had only arithmetic, grammar and geography. On the whole, he got off well, and before the end of the first week was on good terms, apparently, with his whole school, with one or two exceptions; and so on through the second, which closed on Friday, and Bart turned gladly and eagerly toward home, to his mother and brothers.

The close of that week had been a little under a cloud, which left just a nameless shadow over the commencement of the third, and Bart began it with an uneasy feeling.

Bingham, a short, stout, compact young ruffian, of twenty-two or twenty-three, not quite as tall as Bart, but a third more in weight, and who had an ugly reputation as a quarrelsome fellow of many fights, had at first treated Bart with good-natured toleration, and said he would let him go on awhile. With him consorted John Craft, a chap of about his age, but of better reputation. Bingham had broken up a school the winter before, just below in Mantua, and was from the first an object of dread to parents in the new district. He was a dull scholar, and his blunders had exposed him to ridicule, which the teacher could not always repress. He left the school, on that Friday, moody and sullen, and came back on Monday full of mischief.

Not a word was said, that reached Bart's ears, but the young women had a scared look, and an ominous dread seemed to brood over the school-room. Monday and Tuesday came and went, as did the scholars, and also Wednesday forenoon.

The room was arranged with three rows of desks on two sides, and one on the third. Behind these sat the large scholars, with Grid, near the door. When he called the scholars in, after the recess, Bart quietly locked the outside door, and put the key in his pocket. He was cool, collected, and on the alert.

The first cla.s.s began to read, each rising while reading, and then sitting down. Bart had observed that Bingham sat with his book closed, and wholly inattentive to the exercise, and quietly placed himself within a few feet of his desk.

As it came Bingham's turn, he sat with an a.s.sumed look of swaggering indifference. "Mr. Bingham," said Bart very quietly, "will you read?"

"I'm not goin' to read for any G.o.d d.a.m.ned----" the sentence was never finished, though Grid was; yet just how, n.o.body who saw it could quite tell. Something cracked, and Grid and his desk went sprawling into the middle of the floor. A hand came upon his collar as the last word was uttered. It was so sudden that he only seized his desk, which was taken from its fastening at the bottom as if it were pasteboard, and went in ruins with its occupant. As he struck, half stunned and surprised, he arose partly to his feet, and received on the side of his head a full blow from the fist of Bart.

Craft, who had been amazed at the suddenness of the catastrophe, and who was to have shared in the fight, if necessary, arose hesitatingly just as Grid received his _quietus_. Bart turned upon him with his white, galvanized face, and watery, flas.h.i.+ng eyes, "Sit down, John Craft," in a voice that tore him like a rasp on his spine, and John sat down. During this time, and until now, no other sound was heard in the room; now a half sob, with suppressed cries, broke from the terrified girls and children. "Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ not a word!" said the still excited master; "it is over, and n.o.body much hurt." Bingham now began to rise, and Bart approached him: "Wait a moment, Mr. Bingham," he said, and, unlocking the outside door: "There! now take your books and leave, and don't let me find you about this school-house so long as I remain--go!" and the humbled bully sullenly picked up his small property and went.

"Mr. Craft," said Bart, approaching that cowed and trembling youth, "you and I can get along. I don't want to part with you if you will remain with me. I will excuse you from school this afternoon, and you can come back in the morning, and that may be the last of it. I will not humiliate you and myself with any punishment." There was a tremor in Bart's voice, and a softness in his face. John arose: "Mr.

Ridgeley, I don't know how I came to--I am very sorry--I want to stay with you."

"All right, John, we will shake hands on it." And they did.

"My poor, poor children!" said Bart, going up to the younger ones, who had huddled into the farthest corner and clambered on to the desks.

"My poor scared little things, it is all over now, and we are all so glad and happy, aren't we?" and he took up some of the smallest in his arms and kissed them, and the still frightened, but glad and rejoicing young women, looked as if they would be willing to have that pa.s.sed round. When they were pacified, and resumed their places, Charley Smith gathered up the boards and parts of the disabled desk, and Bart, with a few kind words to the older scholars, resumed the exercises of the school.

Scenes of violence were rare, even in that rude day, among that people; the sensibilities of the children were deeply wounded, and none of them were in a fitting condition to profit by their exercises, which were barely gone through with, and they were early dismissed to their homes, with the marvellous tale of the afternoon's events.

Bart was in the habit of remaining to write up the copies, and place everything in order before he left. The young men and older maidens lingered at the door, and then returned in a body, to say how glad they were that it had ended as it did. They knew something would happen, and they were so glad, and then they shook hands with him, and went hurrying home.