“Come here, William!” repeated Mr. Markham but with no better success. Whereupon he rose, and commenced “leading” him, in quick time, to his seat. Having stationed him by it he said to him: “William I know you have been indulged so much that you hardly know the duty of submission to your teacher's orders, or I would correct you for not coming to me when I called you. You must do as I tell you; and I tell you now to quit laughing and get your lesson—you, John Brown, are you tittering again already? Put down your feet and come here, sir!” Here Mr. Markham, by way of parenthesis, gave John three cuts, which sounded like a whip-poor-will, and made him dance a jig, a minuet and a polka all in less than a minute. He retired, crying, and limping and rubbing and shaking his bushy head like a muscovy drake in a pet; and Mr. Markham proceeded: “I tell you, William, you must obey me”—

“Yes, sir,” said William, pale as a sheet.

“I can have no little boys with me who won't do as I tell them”—

“No, sir.”

“If you will be a good boy, and mind your book and your teacher, you need not be afraid of me. Go now and take your seat and quit laughing and get your lesson.”

William obeyed promptly, and hardly took his eyes from his book until the school was dismissed.

During the recess he begged his mother to take him away from Mr. Markham's school. He said Mr. Markham whipt his scholars, and he “didn't want to go to a man that whipt children.”

“But,” said his mother, “you must be a good boy, and then he will not whip you. I've entered you now, and paid your first quarter's schooling, and you must go to the end of the quarter.”

William returned to school, and for several weeks did remarkably well. He was put in a class with George Markham, son of the preceptor, a promising youth, but equal to William in nothing but attention to his studies. As William could get his lessons in half the time allowed him for this purpose, he soon began to neglect them, until the last moment from which he could commit them, and then to some time beyond the moment; and here was the beginning of his bad luck. As he grew remiss, Mr. Markham counseled him, lectured him, and threatened him; but all to no purpose. At length he told him that the next time he came to recite without knowing his lesson, he would correct him. This alarmed William a good deal; but not quite enough to stimulate his industry to continued exertion; and after ten or fifteen lessons he came up deficient again.

“Why have you not got this lesson, sir?” said Mr. Markham with terrific sternness.

“I—I—was sick, sir!”

This was William's first falsehood; but it saved him from a whipping which he awfully dreaded; for though Mr. Markham knew that he had not told the truth, he deemed it best to admit the excuse, at least so far as to withhold the rod of correction for the present.

As he dismissed the school, he told William to remain a few moments, and when they were alone he thus addressed him:

“William, I very much fear you told me a falsehood to-day. I saw you all the morning before you came to recite, idling, and whispering, without any appearance of sickness; and since the recitation, I have seen no sign of sickness about you. Still I may possibly be mistaken, and I hope I am; but remember, if ever I find you telling a lie to hide your faults, I will punish you more severely than I would without the lie.” He then proceeded to counsel him kindly and affectionately against the danger of lying.

William went home in sadness and in tears, for his conscience gave him no rest. His mother sought in vain for the cause of his distress. The next day he went to the school and acquitted himself well for that and the four sncceeding days, for which Mr. Markham gave him great credit and encouragement. On the fifth day he got permission to go out, and as he remained out an unusually long time, Mr. M. went in quest of him, and found him in the act of concealing his book among some rubbish near the school house. He was unobserved by William, and he withdrew to the school room. Just before the recitation hour William made his appearance. What he had been doing during his absence, was not known; but that he had not been studying was manifest from his conduct, and still more manifest from his ignorance of the lesson when he came to recite.

“What have you been doing, William,” said Mr. Markham, “that you know nothing of this lesson?”

“I lost my book, sir, and I couldn't find it.”

Mr. Markham passed the matter over until he dismissed his school, when he detained William, told him where his book was, repeated his lecture upon lying, and enforced it with a pretty severe flogging. William had never experienced the like of that before, and probably would never have experienced it again, but for the imprudence of his mother and her friends. He promised his preceptor that he would never repeat his offence; and he went home with a countenance and manner indicative of a fixed purpose to keep his promise. He told his mother nothing of what had happened, nor did she find it out for four days afterwards. In the meantime, William was all that she or his preceptor could wish him to be. It so happened, however, that Thomas Nokes had lingered about the school-house, and seen all that had transpired between William and his teacher. He went home where he found Mrs. Glib, one of Mrs. Mitten's most devoted friends—as she proved by carrying to her all news that was likely to affect her peace. Mrs. G. had stopped on her way to her brother's in the country, to bid Mrs. Nokes farewell, and had actually risen to depart, when Tom stept in, big with the events of the day.

“I tell you, what!” said he, “Mr. Markham give Bill Mitten jorum to-day!”

“It isn't possible,” exclaimed Mrs. Glib, “that Mr. Markham has whipt that dear, sweet, lovely boy.”

Mrs. Nokes tried to catch Tom's eye, that she might stop him; but his whole attention was directed to Mrs. G. and he went on—

“Yes he did—and he linked it into him like flugins. I'll be bound he made the blood come.”

Here Tom caught his mother's eye, which was darting lightnings at him, and he concluded, “but I don't reckon he hurt him much though!”

“Oh, the brute!” muttered Mrs. Glib, as she left the house for the carriage.

On the afternoon of the fourth day from her departure, she returned to the village, and immediately hastened over to Mrs. Mitten's. Mrs. M. met her at the door very cheerfully and very cordially.

“Oh,” ejaculated Mrs. Glib, “how happy I am to find you so cheerful! I was afraid I should find you in tears.”

“In tears! For what?”

“Why, for the unmerciful beating which Mr. Markham gave to your dear, sweet, lovely little William, last Friday.”

“Surely there must be some mistake Mrs. Glib. William never said a word to me about it: and not fifteen minutes before you came in, Mr. Markham was here congratulating me on the progress my child was making in everything that was good.”

Here Mrs. G. looked as if she had taken an emetic which was just about to operate; and after a short pause she proceeded;

About noon on the following Thursday, Mrs. Glib came over to Mrs. Mitten's, in a great flurry. “Oh,” exclaimed she, as she entered the house, “do you know, Mrs. Mitten, there's a warrant out against all our children! I got wind of it and hid my children; but I'm told they've got William”—

“A warrant!” shrieked Mrs. M. “In mercy's name tell me what has my child been doing to have a warrant out against him?”

“Oh, nothing of any consequence—don't be alarmed—nothing but disturbing a prayer-meeting. Squire Crumb says there's no law for it; and if there was, throwing stones at a house and setting off squibs at the door would not be against the law; and if he was employed, he'd blow it all up. But Judge Dawson says there is a law against disturbing worshipping assemblies. I was afraid of this, when Turner went about complaining of the boys for their little sports. You know such things always make them mad and worse than ever.”

Mrs. Mitten was nearly distracted; for her head was filled with jails, and punishment, and eternal disgrace, which she supposed the invariable accompaniments of warrants. Her brother David was sent for, post-haste; and he was soon at Mr. Justice Easy's office, where William was under arrest. A short interview between him and Parson Turner settled the matter amicably. The latter told him all that had transpired and said he saw no other way of stopping these hopeful youths; but that if Mr. Thompson would pledge himself that they would disturb the meetings no more, he would stop the prosecution. The pledge was given, and the matter was settled.—This done, Mr. Thompson proceeded with William to his sister's, where he found the two mothers.

“Where are your children, madam?” said Thompson sternly to Mrs. Glib.

“Why, they—I expect they are—that is, I think likely—which one of them?”

“Why, all of them, madam.”

“Oh, I have not seen one of them since quite early this morning. What did you want with them, Captain Thompson?”

“I wished to know from their own lips whether, if I get them out of this serape, they'll let people pray in peace hereafter.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes—I'll engage for them; and I will consider myself under everlasting obligations to you Captain, if you'll get them out.”

“I must have the pledge from their own lips.”

“Did you get up to the limbs before you fell, or just fall from the body?”

“I—got to the limbs—”

“Did you take off your shoes?”

“No.”

“Aye, that's the way the accident happened. You went up with your shoes on. You should always take off your shoes when you climb. The Glib-boys, who are the best climbers I know, always take off their shoes and stockings both. I hope, my son, you will soon be well. Mrs. Mitten, if there's anything that I have that can minister to William's comfort, it is at your service. I have some very fine June apples, and I will send him over some; little boys commonly like such things.”

“Thank you—thank you kindly, Mr. King. I know he will prize them very highly—William have you no thanks to give Mr. King, for his kindness?” Mr. King retired.

“William,” said his mother, it seemed to me you were a little rude to Mr. King.”

“I know him,” said Bill sulkily.

“Well, you know a most excellent, kind-hearted man.”

“He's always poking his fun at people.”

“I'm sure there was nothing like fun in what he said to you. It was all tenderness and kindness.”

William's arm kept him, for the most part confined to the house for five weeks or more; during which time he was quite lucky; for nothing happened to disturb his, or his mother's peace. He had been so long kept from the Juvenile Debating Society that he had become very anxious to attend it; and his mother's consent being obtained, he departed once more for the arena of youthful polemics.

He did not return until the family retired to rest; and in passing to his room he made such a noise among the chairs, as to wake up his mother.

“Is that you William?” said she.

“Yes.”

“Is that the way you answer your mother?”

“Who put all these chairs in the entry?”

“There are no more there, than are always there.”

“It's a lie.”

“Oh heavens, my child is deranged! My child! my child! That arm, that arm!”

Mrs. Mitten sprung from her bed, and before she even lighted a candle dispatched a servant to Doctor Hull with the request that he hurry over immediately; for that her son was out of his senses. She had hardly got a light and a loose-gown thrown over her shoulders, before the Doctor was at the door. They met in the entry, just as William had come the fourth time to a chair which had been heading him ever since he entered the house. He seized it (for it had naturally enough exhausted his patience) and slung it with all his might as far as he could send it.

“Oh Doctor!” exclaimed Mrs. Mitten in the deepest agony of mind, “can you do anything for my poor unfortunate boy!”

“Oh yes ma'am—yes ma'am. Don't be alarmed. I pledge myself to have him sound and well before nine o'clock to-morrow morning.”

“Oh Doctor how can you speak so confidently without ever feeling the child's pulse.”

Just here, William having got hold of a small table that stood in the entry, and which he probably mistook for a wash-basin, poured out upon it a villainous compound, of heterogeneous elements, which it would have required a stronger head and greater capacity than Bill possessed, to keep together in peace for a single night.

The Doctor grunted, as usual; but with unusual indications of sympathy for Master Mitten.

“Why, Doctor, it seems to me,” said the good lady, “that I smell peach brandy!”

“It seems so to me too,” said the Doctor, “and segar smoke to boot.”

“It's a lie,” said Bill. “He tells a lie, and you tell a lie.”

“Do you think my child is drunk, Doctor?”

“No doubt of it in the world, madam. Nothing else is the matter with him.”

“Then my fate is sealed. I am doomed to wretchedness for life. And she sobbed and shrieked by turns.

“Retire to your room, madam. I will put him to bed, and stay with him until he gets sound asleep; and he will be well in the morning.”

She did so; but it was to walk her room in tortures through the live-long night—not to sleep.

It was late in the morning before William rose. He had learned from a servant all that passed on the preceding evening; and was an hour after he rose before he could venture from his room to face his mother. At length he came, and mingled tears contrition with her tears of sorrow—confessed his fault and promised never to smoke another segar, or drink another drop of liquor, while he lived.

About noon, on this day, an elderly, good looking gentleman made his appearance at Mrs. Mitten's and introduced himself as Mr. Judkins Twattle. He said he had seen Mrs. Mitten's advertisement, and had come to offer his services as a private teacher. Mrs. Mitten desired him to call again at ten the next morning, when her brother would be present, whose counsel she wished to have in the matter.

At the appointed hour the parties met.

“Have you any certificates of character and capability Mr. Twattle?” said Captain Thompson.

“More. I presume, sir, than you will be willing to read.”

Whereupon he produced a large bundle of certificates, running by long jumps through twenty years, and growing colder and colder, with very few exceptions, from the first to the last. They all agreed however in representing Mr. Twattle as fully competent to teach all the ordinary branches of an English education, with Algebra, Geometry, Latin and Greek. The two first were very flattering, and spoke in unmeasured terms of his skill as a teacher, his talents, attainments, gentlemanly demeanor, and spotless moral character. The two last merely testified that “Doctor Twattle was a good scholar and fully table to teach Latin, Greek, Mathematics, &c., &c.; the one almost a literal copy of the other. The first and second were from Vermont—the third from Pennsylvania—the fourth from Vermont—the fifth from Virginia—the sixth from New Hampshire—and the seventh from Kentucky—the eight from Vermont—and the rest were from various places, under the designations of “Bethel Seminary,” “Bethesda Institute,” “Pineville Lyceum,” “Buckhead Atheneum” “Goosepond Literary Parthenon,” “Big Lick Acropolis of Letters,” “Tickville Emporium of Literature and Science,” &c.

Captain Thompson knew nothing of Mathematics, Greek, or Latin, out he could understand certificates as well as Newton, Demosthenes, or Cicero; and he spared no pains in studying them upon this occasion. After he had looked them over until he wore out the patience of his sister and Dr. Twattle, he observed:

“You seem to have been a great traveller, Doctor.”

“Yes, sir. I early conceived a desire to settle in the sunny South; and as soon as I raised money enough to bear my expenses, I left my native State for Pennsylvania; but my health failing, I had to return. As soon as I recovered my health, I set out again for the South; but my health again failing, I was again constrained to seek a Northern clime. And thus I went on until, advancing in years, I found that I could not only endure a Southern climate, but that it was no more congenial to my constitution than a Northern one. Therefore ward, I have always resided in the South. Having no aim but spread the lights of science through our favored country, and no disposition to accummulate money, but a strong propensity to travel and see the world, I have so ordered my life as to fill the measure of my wishes. I teach from place to place, for longer or shorter periods, I like or dislike the people; but never make an arrangement for more than two years at a time. Thus it is, sir, that you see so many certificates from different places.”

“What gave you such a strong desire to visit the South?”

“At first, nothing but my inborn roving disposition; but after residing awhile at the South, particularly in Virginia, I became much enamored with Southern manners, customs, talent, spirit, generosity, hospitality and vivacity, that I determined to fix my abode here as soon as I could do so without rushing, with my eyes open right into the jaws of death.”

“Emph-hemph!” nosed out the Captain, ponderingly. “What are your terms, Doctor?”

“Six hundred dollars a year, if I have to board myself and visit my pupil twice a day, and sometimes at night, (for I expect to teach Astronomy) through all seasons, and all weather; or two hundred, I board in the family with my pupil.”

“Why, that is a vast difference, Doctor.”

“So it is; but I detest taverns so much, that I would rather sacrifice twice the price of board than board in one at any price.”

“But you can find private boarding in the village, in genteel houses, for much less than four hundred dollars.”

“Well, if you prefer it, get me board in a genteel private family and add to the tuition as much as it may be less than four hundred dollars; and send the pupil to my room, instead of requiring me go to his.”

“Why not let the tuition stand at two hundred dollars, and pay your board?”

“No objections in the world, if you will allow me to board where I please, and allow me every accommodation that I could have a tavern, and send the pupil to me. I understand that Mrs. Norton is a nice woman, and takes boarders. I will board with her and pledge myself that my board shall not cost you over three hundred dollars.”

“Mrs. Norton's is the dearest boarding house in town, and fully one mile from my sister's.”

“Well, if too far for the scholar to walk, how much harder for to walk! Nor can you expect me to let you choose my boarding house, and fix the price that I shall pay too! Allow me to board Mrs. Norton's and I will knock off fifty dollars from the tuition.” “Or, I suppose, allow you to board at my sister's and you will do the same.”

The Doctor looked as if he had committed a terrible blunder; and after a little halting and smiling, he replied: “Well, sir, you've got me where the owl had the hen: so that I can neither back nor squall of course I will.”

“Are you willing to contract for six months on trial at those rates?”

“Perfectly willing—perfectly willing—provided you will engage to turn me off capriciously at the end of six months; and allow me to fix the time of our connection, by our next contract, if I deport myself to your satisfaction. Dining one day with Thomas Jefferson, and Nathaniel Macon, the latter made a remark which I have often proved the value of since: “In making a contract,” said he, always have a little of it on your own side.”

“Are you acquainted with those gentlemen?”

The Doctor looked provoked at himself, for having made the remark, and replied in a courteous but hurried manner: “No sir—that is not—no sir, no. The circumstances which brought us to the same table, were purely accidental. Neither of them, I am sure, has now the most distant recollection of me; though we did interchange some words upon that occasion.”

“Well, Doctor, my sister and I will confer upon the matter in hand, and if you will call at three o'clock, this afternoon, we will let you know our decision.”

“I will call at the hour,” said the Doctor rising, “but to avoid any unkind feelings, it is proper that I should apprise you of my views of negotiations of this kind. When I made a proposition, which is not immediately accepted, I do not consider myself bound by it afterwards. If time be claimed to deliberate upon a proposition of mine, I claim the same time for retracting it if I see proper.”

“That is all perfectly fair, Doctor—perfectly fair.”

The Doctor withdrew; and he had hardly cleared the door before Mrs. Mitten begged her brother to call him back, and close the bargain immediately. “He sees,” says she, “where you entrapt him, when speaking of Mrs. Norton, and his last remark was made on purpose to help him out of the difficulty.”

“Anna,” said the Captain, “my advice to you is, to have nothing to do with this man. If he is not a pickled villain, I'll give you my head for a foot-ball. A man of his age and accomplishment running about the country with a batch of old rusty, ragged certificates in his pocket, gathered through twenty years, not one of which ten years old, says a word about his moral character—willing to teach for the pitiful sum of one hundred and fifty dollars, and confessedly with no money in his pocket! Down from Vermont, and then back again—then South, then North, then here, there, and every where He's a rascal—as sure as you're born he's a rascal.”

“Oh! brother David, what uncharitable beings you men are! Every objection you raised he answered, as if by accident, before you raised or even thought of them. He has accounted most satisfactorily and nobly, for the cheap rate at which he holds his services—”

“—P-h-e-e-e-w! He from Vermont and care nothing for money A literary apostle to the Southern Gentiles, moved by pure love of their wondrous virtues! So devoted to them, that sickness can't drive him away from them! Stuff, smoke, nonsense! He'll breed mischief in your house as sure as you take him there.”

“Brother David, are you going to let slip this favorable opportunity of getting a teacher for my child at this critical period of his life,”—

“No, I'm going to let you do as you please. If you want him, you shall have him; and I'll do the best I can with him, for you; but once more I pray you to let this man alone; save the expense of him and the danger of him, and send your son to Mr. Markham, and beg him to whip the devil out of him, that has been getting into him ever since he was taken from school.”

“I have said again and again, and I now, say once for all, that my child shall not go to Mr. Markham.”

“Very well, I'll engage Twattle. Take him for six months first, and you will be sure of his doing well, for that time at least; but look out for squalls, afterwards.”

This was agreed to, and Mr. Twattle was employed upon the terms and conditions already intimated. That is to say, for six months, at the rate of one hundred and fifty dollars per annum—Mrs. Mitten to board him, and he to fix the terms of his next engagement.

“Oh, Mrs. Glib, I couldn't think of taking pay for board from you.”

“Well, what plan would you suggest. It's cruel to part the boys, for they can hardly live out of each other's sight.”

“I really do not see how it will be possible to arrange it—I don't think it can possibly be done.”

“Suppose you invite him down, Mrs. Mitten; and let us talk over the whole matter, and see if we can't fix it so that the boys may be together.”

To this proposition Mrs. Mitten readily assented, for she was very confident that Doctor Twattle would not, upon any terms, consent to take the young Glibs. Accordingly, he was invited down, and introduced to Mrs. Glib.

“I have called, Doctor,” said Mrs. Glib, “to see if you would not be willing to take my three boys under your instruction with Master William. Mrs. Mitten and I are like sisters, and our children like brothers, and if you would consent to take my children, you would greatly accommodate us all round.”

“Certainly, madam,” said the Doctor, “if Mrs. Mitten desires it, I will take them with pleasure; but being under contract with her, I can of course do nothing without her consent.”

“But how could it be arranged, Doctor?”

“Just as you and Mrs. Glib may choose.”

“Would you be willing to board part of the time with Mrs. Glib?”

“I would rather not change my boarding house; but if Mrs. Mitten desires it, I will even do that.”

“Oh, no, Doctor, I do not desire to put you to that inconvenience; besides I should feel that I was violating my contract if I did not board you all the time!”

“Well, then, Doctor, how would this suit? You board here all the time, and I pay Mrs. Mitten half your board?”

“Very well, indeed, madam. I should prefer that to moving from house to house.”

“But I couldn't take money from Mrs. Glib, Doctor, for board. And suppose we were to make that arrangement, how would it be as to tuition? I suppose you would ask four times as much for teaching four as you do for teaching one.”

“That would be equitable; but I will not stickle about prices, if I can accommodate the friend of one who has been such a kind friend to me, as Mrs. Mitten has been.”

“Yes, abundant reason. On the day he left, he borrowed two hundred and fifty dollars of me—all I had—telling me that he had just discovered where a distant relation of his was, who under his name, was imposing upon people everywhere, and constantly bringing him into discredit; and that, if he could borrow five hundred dollars, he would conduct Mr. Sanders to the rogue, and take all the expenses of prosecuting him on his own shoulders. As I had a deep interest in the matter—that is, in seeing all rogues brought to justice—I advanced him two hundred and fifty dollars, to get legal advice, a horse, &c., that he might be prepared to set out with Mr. Sanders, as soon as he arrived, in quest of his rascally fourth cousin, of whose iniquities he had long before informed me. I concluded he had gone to Washington to meet Mr. S.”

“Well, he told me about that cousin, too; and a long cock and bull story about the death of his dear wife Bridgeta. I told him I didn't think there was a woman in the world, besides myself, who bore that name—”

“Did he say her name was Bridgeta? Why, he told me her name was Anna.”

“Why, the hypocritical, lying scoundrel! I'll make brother John cut his ears off at sight, if he prove to be the villian I fear he is.”

Brother John, nor brother David, will ever get sight of him.”

“Well, if he has taken my best horse, and choused me out of three hundred dollars, I'll spend a thousand dollars but what I'll bring him to justice.”

“Well, now, Mrs. Glib, we have both been imposed upon; our best way will be to keep the whole matter to ourselves.”

“No; I am determined to expose him, and to seek legal redress. I can't sit down quietly under a loss of a fine horse, and three hundred dollars, without making some effort to save them. Let people say what they may, I'll try and get hold of this rice plantation at least.”

“Believe me, that story about the rice plantation is all a fabrication. Did he tell you about the fund that he got by his dear Bridgeta?”

“Oh, yes. It amounted to what he called the insignificant sum of ten or twelve thousand dollars, and was held sacred, and all that rigmarole; which, he said, nobody in the world knew about, but me; and which he didn't wish to have known.”

“Precisely what he told me!”