Chapter 6 No.6

To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Little could be done in the winter. The days were short and full of employment; all the more for Will's absence. What with threshing wheat and oats, foddering cattle, and dressing flax, driving to mill, cutting wood, and clearing snow, there was no time for Virgil during the few hours of daylight; hardly time to repeat a Latin verb. The evenings were long and bright, and the kitchen cosy. But there were axe-helves to dress out, and oars, and ox-yokes; and corn to shell, and hemp to hackle; and at which ever corner of the fireplace Winthrop might set himself down, a pair of little feet would come pattering round him, and petitions, soft but strong, to cut an apple, or to play jackstraws, or to crack hickory nuts, or to roast chestnuts, were sure to be preferred; and if none of these, or if these were put off, there was still too much of that sweet companionship to suit with the rough road to learning. Winnie was rarely put off, and never rejected. And the little garret room used by Winthrop and Will when the latter was at home, and now by Winthrop alone, was too freezing cold when he went up to bed to allow him more than a snatch at his longed-for work. A few words, a line or two, were all that could be managed with safety to life; and the books had to be shut up again, with bitter mortification that it must be so soon. The winter passed and Virgil was not read. The spring brought longer days, and more to do in them.

"Father," said Winthrop one night, "they have got no one yet in Mr. Dolts' place."

"What, at Mountain Spring? I know they haven't. The foolish man thought twelve dollars a month wa'n't enough for him, I suppose."

"Why was he foolish, Mr. Landholm?"

"Because he greatly misstated his own value - which it isn't the part of a wise man to do. I know he wasn't worth twelve dollars."

"Do you think I am worth more than that, sir?"

"I don't know what you're worth," said his father good- humouredly. "I should be sorry to put a price upon you."

"Why, Winthrop?" - his mother said more anxiously.

"Will you let me take Mr. Dolts' place, father?"

"His place? What, in the schoolhouse?"

"Yes, sir. If I can get it, I mean."

"What for?"

"The twelve dollars a month would hire a man to do my work on the farm."

"Yes, and I say, what for? What do you want it for?"

"I think perhaps I might get more time to myself."

"Time? - for what?"

"Time to study, sir."

"To study! - Teach others that you may teach yourself, eh?" said Mr. Landholm, with a breath that was drawn very much like a sigh; and he was silent and looked grave.

"I am afraid you wouldn't like it, Winthrop," said his mother seriously.

"I should like the time, mamma."

"I wish I were a little richer," said Mr. Landholm, drawing his breath, - "and my sons should have a better chance. I am willing to work both my hands off - if that would be of any avail. You may do as you please, my dear, about the school. I'll not stand in your way."

"The twelve dollars would pay a man who would do as much work as I could, father."

"Yes, yes, - that's all straight enough."

"Is Winthrop going to teach school?" exclaimed Asahel.

"Perhaps so."

"Then I should go to school to Winthrop," said the little boy clapping his hands, - "shouldn't I, mamma? Wouldn't it be funny?"

"I too?" cried Winifred.

"Hush, hush. Hear what your father says."

"I am only sorry you should have to resort to such expedients."

"Do you think they would take me, father?"

"Take you? yes! If they don't, I'll make them."

"Thank you, sir."

Winthrop presently went with the children, who drew him out into the kitchen. Mr. Landholm sat a few moments in silent and seemingly disturbed thought.

"That boy'll be off to College too," he said, - "after his brother."

"He'll not be likely to go after anything wrong," said Mrs.

Landholm.

"No -that's pretty certain. Well, I'll do all I can for him!"

"Whatever he undertakes I think he'll succeed in," the mother went on remarking.

"I think so too. He always did, from a child. It's his character. There's a sharp edge to Rufus's metal, - but I think Winthrop's is the best stuff. Well I ain't ashamed of either one on 'em!"

Winthrop took the school. He found it numbering some thirty heads or more. That is, it would count so many, though in some instances the heads were merely nominal. There were all sorts, from boys of fifteen and sixteen that wanted to learn the Multiplication table, down to little bits of girls that did not know A, B, and C. Rough heads, with thoughts as matted as their hair; lank heads, that reminded one irresistibly of blocks; and one fiery red shock, all of whose ideas seemed to be standing on end and ready to fly away, so little hold had they upon either knowledge, wit, or experience. And every one of these wanted different handling, and every one called for diligent study and patient painstaking. There were often fine parts to be found under that rough and untrained state of nature; there were blocks that could be waked into life by a little skill and kind management and a good deal of time; and even the fly-away shock could be brought down to order and reason by a long course of patience and firmness. But the younger heads that had no thoughts at all, - the minds that were blank of intelligence, - the eyes that opened but to stare at the new teacher! What amount of culture, what distance of days and months, would bring something out of nothing!

It was hard, hard work. There was nobody to help the new teacher; he wrought alone; that the teacher always did. The days were days of constant, unintermitted labour; the nights were jaded and spiritless. After spelling a great deal in the course of the day, and making up an indefinite number of sums in addition and multiplication, Winthrop found his stomach was gone for Latin and Virgil. Ears and eyes and mind were sick of the din of repetitions, wearied with confusions of thought not his own; he was fain to let his own rest. The children "got on," the parents said, "first-rate;" but the poor teacher was standing still. Week passed after week, and each Saturday night found him where he was the last. He had less time than on the farm. Fresh from the plough, he could now and then snatch a half hour of study to some purpose; there was no "fresh from the school." Besides all which, he still found himself or fancied himself needed by his father, and whenever a pinch of work called for it he could not hold back his hand.

"How does it go, Winthrop?" said his mother when she saw him wearily sitting down one summer night.

"It doesn't go at all, mother."

"I was afraid that it would be so."

"How does what go?" said Asahel.

"The school."

"How does it go?"

"Upon my head; and I am tired of carrying it."

"Don't you like being school-teacher?"

"No."

"I do," said Asahel.

"I wouldn't stay in it, Winthrop," said his mother.

"I will not mamma, - only till winter. I'll manage it so long."

Eight months this experiment was tried, and then Winthrop came back to the farm. Eight months thrown away! he sadly said to himself. He was doubly needed at home now, for Mr. Landholm had again been elected to the Legislature; and one of the first uses of Winthrop's freedom was to go with his father to Vantassel and drive the wagon home again.

One thing was gained by this journey. In Vantassel, Winthrop contrived to possess himself of a Greek lexicon and a Graeca Majora, and also a Greek grammar, though the only one he could get that suited his purse was the Westminster grammar, in which the alternatives of Greek were all Latin. That did not stagger him. He came home rich in his classical library, and very resolved to do something for himself this winter.

The day after his return from Vantassel, just as they had done supper, there was a knock at the front door. Winthrop went to open it. There he found a man, tall and personable, well- dressed though like a traveller, with a little leathern valise in his hand. Winthrop had hardly time to think he did not look like an American, when his speech confirmed it.

"How-do-you-do?" he said, using each word with a ceremony which shewed they were not denizens of his tongue. "I am wanting to make some résèrche in dis country, and I was directet here."

Winthrop asked him in, and then when he was seated, asked him what he wanted.

"I am wishing to know if you could let me live wiz you a few days - I am wanting to be busy in your mountains, about my affairs, and I just want to know if you can let me have a bed to sleep on at night, and a little somet'ing to eat - I would be very much obliged and I would pay you whatever you please - "

"Mother," said Winthrop, "can you let this gentleman stay here a few days? he has business in the mountains, he says, and wants to stop here?"

"I do not wish to be no trouble to no person," he said blandly. "I was at a little house on de ozer side of de river, but I was told dere was no room for me, and I come to an ozer place and dey told me to come to dis place. I will not trouble no person - I only want a place to put my head while my feet are going all over."

A moment's hesitation, and Mrs. Landholm agreed to this very moderate request; and Mr. Herder, as he gave his name, and his valise, were accommodated in the 'big bedroom.' This was the best room, occupying one corner of the front of the house, while the 'keeping-room' was at the other; a tiny entry-way, of hardly two square yards, lying between, with a door in each of three sides and a steep staircase in the fourth.

Winthrop presently came to ask if the stranger had had supper.

"I have not! But I will take anysing, what you please to give me."

Mr. Herder did not belie his beginning. He made himself much liked, both by the children and the grown people; and as he said, he gave as little trouble as possible. He seemed a hearty, genial nature, excessively devoted to his pursuits, which were those of a naturalist and kept him out of doors from morning till night; and in the house he shewed a particular simplicity both of politeness and kind feeling; in part springing perhaps from his German nature, and in part from the honest truthful acquaintance he was holding with the world of nature at large. "He acted like a great boy," old Karen said in wondering ridicule, - "to be bringing in leaves, and sticks, and stones, as he was every night, and making his room such a mess she never saw!"

He had soon a marked liking and even marked respect for his young host. With his usual good-humour Winthrop helped him in his quest; now and then offered to go with him on his expeditions; tracked up the streams of brooks, shewed the paths of the mountains, rowed up the river and down the river; and often and often made his uncommon strength and agility avail for something which the more burly frame of the naturalist could not have attained. He was always ready; he was never wearied; and Mr. Herder found him an assistant as acute as he was willing.

"You do know your own woods - better than I do!" - he remarked one day when Winthrop had helped him out of a botanical difficulty.

"It's only the knowledge of the eye," Winthrop replied, with a profound feeling of the difference.

"But you do seem to love knowledge - of every kind," said the naturalist, - "and that is what I like."

"I have very little," said Winthrop. "I ought to love what I can get."

"That is goot," said Mr. Herder; - "that is de right way. Ven I hear a man say, 'I have much knowledge,' - I know he never will have much more; but ven I hear one say, 'I have a little,' - I expect great things."

Winthrop was silent, and presently Mr. Herder went on.

"What kind of learning do you love de best?"

"I don't know, sir, really."

"What have you studied?"

Winthrop hesitated.

"A little Latin, sir."

"Latin! - How much Latin have you read?"

"The Gospel of John, and nearly the first book of the Aeneid.

But I have very little time."

"The Evangel of St. John, and the Aeneid. Are you going on to study it now?"

"Yes sir, - as much as I can find time."

"Greek too?"

"No sir. I am only beginning."

"I ask, because I saw some Greek books on de table de ozer night and I wondered - excuse me - who was reading them. You do not know nothing of German?"

"No sir."

"Ah, you must learn de German - dat is my language."

"I don't know my own language yet," said Winthrop.

"Vat is dat?"

"English."

"English! - But how do you do, here amongst de hills - is there somebody to learn you?"

"No sir."

"And you go by yourself? - Vell, I believe you will climb anything," said Mr. Herder, with a little smile; "only it is goot to know what place to begin, - as I have found."

"I must begin where I can, sir."

"But you should get to de Université; from dere it is more easy."

"I know that, sir; that is what I am trying to fit myself for."

"You do not need so much fitting - you will fit yourself better there. I would get away to de Université. You will go up - I see it in your face - you will go up, like you go up these rocks; it is pretty steep, but you know, vere one person cannot stand, anozer will mount. And what will you do wiz yourself when you get to de top?"

"I don't know yet, sir," Winthrop said laughing.

"It is just so goot not to know," said Mr. Herder. "What thing a man may wish to make himself, no matter what, he should fit himself for some ozer thing. Or else, he may be just one thing - he might be poet, or mathématicien, or musicien maybe, - and not be a whole man. You understand?"

"Very well, sir."

"I did not know no more what I would be, when I first went to de Université of Halle I have been to seven Universités."

Winthrop looked at him, as if to see whether he were cased in sevenfold learning.

"I am not so very wise, neizer," he said laughing. "And now I am in de eight Université - in Mannahatta - and if you will come dere I will be very glad to see you."

"Thank you, sir; -but I am afraid Mannahatta would be too expensive for me."

"Perhaps. - But vere will you go?"

"I don't know sir, yet."

"But ven you get through, you will come to Mannahatta and let me see what you have made of yourself?"

Winthrop shook his head. "I don't know when that will be, Mr.

Herder."

They were walking through a tangled woodland, along one of the deep mountain gorges; the naturalist stopping frequently to give closer notice to something. He stood still here to examine a piece of rock.

"Will you let me give you one little direction," said he producing his little hammer, - "two little direction, or I should call them big direction, which may be of some goot to you?"

"I wish you would, sir."

"In de first place den, don't never go half way through nozing. If some thing you want to know is in de middle of dat rock," said he striking it, "knock de rock all to pieces but what you will have it. I mean, when you begin, finish, and do it goot."

"That is what I think, Mr. Herder."

"In de second place," continued Mr. Herder, illustrating part of his former speech by hammering off some pieces of rock from the mass, - "don't never think that no kind of knowledge is of no use to you. Dere is nozing dat it is not goot to know. You may say, it is no use to you to know dat colour of de outside of dis rock, and dis colour of de inside; you are wrong; you ought to learn to know it if you can; and you will find de use before you die, wizout you be a very misfortunate man. Dere is nozing little in dis world; all is truth, or it will help you find out truth; and you cannot know too much."

"I believe that, sir; and I will remember it."

"And when you have learned English and Latin and Greek, you will learn German?" said the naturalist, putting the fragments of rock in his pocket.

Winthrop laughed at his expression.

"Promise me dat you will. You will find it of use to you too."

"But all useful things are not possible," said Winthrop.

"I wish it was possible for you to bring down that bird," said the naturalist, gazing up towards a pair of huge wings above them; - "It would be very useful to me." The creature was sailing through the distant ether in majestic style, moving its wings so little that they seemed an emblem of powerful repose.

"That is a white-headed eagle," said Winthrop.

"I know him!" said the naturalist, still gazing. "I wish I had him; - but dat is a thing in which is no goot; as he is too far off for me to reach him. Better for him! And it will be better for us to go home, for the day is not very long."

Neither was Mr. Herder's stay in the mountains after that. At parting he assured Winthrop "he should be very glad to do him all the goot he could do, if he would only let him know how."

This was just after the fall of the leaf. The winter was a mild one, and so fruitful in business belonging to the farm that Winthrop's own private concerns had little chance. Latin was pushed a little, and Greek entered upon; neither of them could be forwarded much, with all the stress that hope or despair could make. Snowstorm, and thaw, and frost, and sun, came after and after each other, and as surely and constantly the various calls upon Winthrop's time; and every change seemed to put itself between him and his books. Mr. Landholm was kept late in Vantassel, by a long session, and the early spring business came all upon his son's hands.

Letters were rather infrequent things in those days, waiting, as they usually did, for private carriage. It was near the end of March that the rare event of two letters in one day happened to the quiet little household.

Winthrop got one at the post-office, with the Vantassel mark; and coming home found his mother sitting before the fire with another in her hand, the matter of which she was apparently studying.

"A letter, mamma?"

"Yes - from Will."

"How did it come?"

"It came by Mr. Underhill."

"What's the matter? what does he say?"

"Not much - you can see for yourself."

"And here's one from papa."

Mrs. Landholm took it, and Winthrop took Rufus's.

"Little River, March 18, 1809.

"What does papa mean to do? Something must be done, for I cannot stay here for ever; neither in truth do I wish it. If I am ever to make anything, it is time now. I am twenty-one, and in mind and body prepared, I think, for any line of enterprise to which fortune may call me. Or if nothing can be done with me, - if what has been spent must be thrown away - it is needless to throw away any more; it would be better for me to come home and settle down to the lot for which I seemed to be born. Nothing can be gained by waiting longer, but much lost.

"I am not desponding, but seriously this transition life I am leading at present is not very enlivening. I am neither one thing nor the other; I am in a chrysalis state, which is notoriously a dull one; and I have the further aggravation, which I suppose never occurs to the nymph bona fide, of a miserable uncertainty whether my folded-up wings are those of a purple butterfly or of a poor drudge of a beetle. Besides, it is conceivable that the chrysalis may get weary of his case, and mine is not a silken one. I have been here long enough. My aunt Landholm is very kind; but I think she would like an increase of her household accommodations, and also that she would prefer working it by the rule of subtraction rather than by the more usual and obvious way of addition. She is a good soul, but really I believe her larder contains nothing but pork, and her pantry nothing but - pumpkins! She has actually contrived, by some abominable mystery of the kitchen, to keep some of them over through a period of frost and oblivion, and to-day they made their appearance in due form on the table again; my horror at which appearance has I believe given me an indigestion, to which you may attribute whatever of gloominess there may be contained in this letter. I certainly felt very heavy when I sat down; but the sight of all your faces through fancy's sweet medium has greatly refreshed me.

"Nevertheless answer me speedily, for I am in earnest, although I am in jest.

"I intend to see you at all events soon.

"Love to the little ones and to dear ma and pa from

"Rufus."

"What does father say, mother?" was all Winthrop's commentary on this epistle. She gave him the other letter, and he yielded his brother's again to her stretched-out hand.

"Vantassel, March 22, 1809.

"My dear Orphah,

"I am really coming home! I never knew any months so long, it seems to me, as these three. The business will be finished I believe next week, and the Session will rise, and the first use I shall make of my recovered freedom will be - can you doubt it? - to hasten home to my family. My dear family - they are closer to me all the time than you think, and for some weeks past it seems to me they have had half of every thought. But I will be with you now, Providence willing, by the middle of the week, I hope, or as soon after as I can.

"The last fortnight has been spent in talking - we have had a very stormy discussion of that point I spoke to you of in my last. The opposition of parties has run very high. It is gaining fearful ground in the country. I tremble for what may be the issue.

"I am quite well again. Mr. Haye has been very attentive and kind, and the Chancellor has shewn himself very friendly.

"I expect Will will be at home as soon as I am myself. I wrote to him that he had better do so. I cannot afford to keep him any longer there, and there seems nothing better for him to do at present but to come home. I hope for better days.

"Love to all till I see you, my dear wife and children,

"W. Landholm.

"My son Winthrop, this word is for you. I am coming home soon I hope to relieve you of so much care. Meanwhile a word. I want Sam to go into the north hill-field with the plough, as soon as he can; I think the frost must be out of the ground with you. I intend to put wheat there and in the big border meadow. The bend meadow is in no hurry; it will take corn, I guess. You had better feed out the turnips to the old black cow and the two heifers."

The letters were read at last, and folded up, by the respective hands that held them.

"Well, Will's coming home," the mother said, with half a sigh.

Winthrop did not answer; he made over to her hand the letter he held in his own.

"The north hill-field is pretty much all ploughed already," he remarked.

"You're a good farmer, Governor," said his mother. "But I am afraid that praise doesn't please you."

"Yes it does, mamma," he answered smiling a little.

"But it don't satisfy you?"

"No more than it does you, mamma. It helps my hope of being a good something else some day."

"I don't care much what you are, Governor, if it is only something good," she said.

He met her grave, wistful eyes, but this time he did not smile; and a stranger might have thought he was exceedingly unimpressible. Both were silent a bit.

"Well, it will be good to see them," Mrs. Landholm said, again with that half sighing breath; "and now we must make haste and get all ready to welcome them home."