It was the unanimous opinion amongst Mr. Lorriby's pupils that he was

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

grossly inconsistent with himself: that he ought to have begun with the
rigid policy at first, or have held to the mild. Having once enjoyed
the sweets of the latter, thoughts would occasionally rise and questions
would be asked. Seaborn Byne was not exactly the head, but he was
certainly the orator of a revolutionary party. Not on his own account;
for he had never yet, except as the voluntary substitute of Miss Susan
Potter, felt upon his own body the effects of the change of discipline.
Nor did he seem to have any apprehensions on that score. He even
went so far as to say to Mr. Bill Williams, who had playfully suggested
the bare idea of such a thing, that “ef old Jo Lorriby raised his old
pole on him, he would put his lizzard” (as Seaborn facetiously called
his knife) “into his paunch.” He always carried a very big knife, with
which he would frequently stab imaginary Lorribys in the persons of
saplings and pumpkins, and even the air itself. This threat had made
his brother Joel extremely unhappy. His little heart was bowed down
with the never-resting fear and belief that Seaborn was destined to
commit the crime of murder upon the body of Mr. Lorriby. On the
other hand Seaborn was constantly vexed by the sight of the scores of
floggings which Joel received. Poor Joel had somehow in the beginning
of his studies gotten upon the wrong road, and as nobody ever
brought him back to the starting point, he was destined, it seemed, to
wander about lost evermore. The more floggings he got, the more
hopeless and wild were his efforts at extrication. It was unfortunate
for him that his brother took any interest in his condition. Seaborn
had great contempt for him, but yet he remembered that he was his
brother, and his brother's heart would not allow itself to feel no concern.
That concern manifested itself in endeavoring to teach Joel himself out
of school, and in flogging him himself by way of preventing Joel's
having to submit to that disgrace at the hands of old Joe. So eager
was Seaborn in this brotherly design, and so indocile was Joel, that for
every flogging which the latter received from the master he got from
two to three from Seaborn.

However, the inflictions which Seaborn made, strictly speaking,
could not be called floggings. Joel, among his other infirmities, had
that of being unable to take care of his spelling-books. He had torn
to pieces so many that his mother had obtained a paddle and pasted
on both sides of it as many words as could be crowded there. Mrs.
Byne, who was a woman of decision, had been heard to say that she
meant to head him at this destructive business, and now she believed

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

that she had done it. But this instrument was made to subserve a
double purpose with Joel. It was at once the object, and in his
brother's hands was the stimulus, of his little ambition. Among all
these evils, floggings from Mr. Lorriby and paddlings from Seaborn,
and the abiding apprehension that the former was destined to be
murdered by the latter, Joel Byne's was a case to be pitied.

“It ar a disgrace,” said Mr. Bill to me one morning as we were going
to school, “and I wish Mr. Larrabee knowed it. Between him and
Sebe, that little innocent individiel ar bent on bein' useded up bodaciously.
Whippins from Mr. Larrabee and paddlins from Sebe! The
case ar wusser than ef thar was two Larrabees. That ar the ontimeliest
paddle that ever I seen. He have to try to larn his paddle, and
when he can't larn it, Sebe, he take his paddle, fling down Joel, and
paddle him with his paddle. In all my experence, I has not seed jest
sich a case. It ar beyant hope.”

Mr. Bill's sympathy made him serious, and indeed gloomy. The
road on which the Bynes came to school met ours a few rods from the
spring. We were now there, and Mr. Bill had scarcely finished this
speech when we heard behind us the screams of a child.

“Thar it is agin,” said Mr. Bill. “At it good and soon. It do
beat everything in this blessed and ontimely world. Ef it don't, ding
me!”

We looked beind us. Here came Joel at full speed, screaming with
all his might, hatless, with his paddle in one hand and his dinner-bucket,
without cover, hanging from the other. Twenty yards behind
him ran Seaborn, who had been delayed by having to stop in order to
pick up Joel's hat and the bucket-cover. Just before reaching the
spring, the fugitive was overtaken and knocked down. Seaborn then
getting upon him and fastening his arms with his own knees, seized the
paddle and exclaimed:

“Now, you rascal! spell that word agin, sir. Ef you don't, I'll
paddle you into a pancake. Spell `Crucifix,' sir.”

Joel attempted to obey.

“S agin, you little devil! S-i, si! Ding my skin ef you shan't larn
it, or I'll paddle you as long as thar's poplars to make paddles outen.”

And he turned Joel over and made him ready.

“Look a here, Sebe!” interposed Mr. Bill; “fun's fun, but too much
is too much.”

Now what these words were intended to be preliminary to, there was

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

no opportunity of ascertaining; for just then Mr. Josiah Lorriby, who
had diverged from his own way in order to drink at the spring,
presented himself.

“What air you about thar, Sebion Byne?”

Seaborn arose, and though he considered his conduct not only justifiable,
but praiseworthy, he looked a little crest-fallen.

“Ah, indeed! You're the assistant teacher, air you? Interfering
with my business, and my rights, and my duties, and my — hem! Let
us all go to the school-house now. Mr. Byne will manage business
hereafter. I — as for me, I aint nowhar now. Come, Mr. Byne, le's
go to school.”

Mr. Lorriby and Seaborn went on, side by side. Mr. Bill looked as
if he were highly gratified. “Ef he don't get it now, he never will.”

Alas for Joel! Delivered from Seaborn, he was yet more miserable
than before, and he forgot his own griefs in his pity for the impending
fate of Mr. Lorriby, and his apprehension for the ultimate consequence
of this day's work to his brother. He pulled me a little behind Mr.
Bill, and tremblingly whispered:

“Poor Mr. Larrabee! Do you reckon they will hang Seaby, Phil?”

“What for?” I asked.

“For killing Mr. Larrabee.”

I answered that I hoped not.

“Oh, Phil! Seaby have sich a big knife! An' he have stob more
saplins! and more punkins! and more watermillions! and more mushmillions!
And he have even stob our old big yaller cat! And he have
call every one of 'em Larrabee. And it's my pinion that ef it warn't for
my paddle, he would a stob me befo' now. You see, Phil, paddlin me
sorter cools and swages him down a leetle bit. Oh, Seaby ar a tremenduous
boy, and he ar goin to stob Mr. Larrabee this blessed day.”

As we neared the school-house we saw old Kate at the usual stand,
and we knew that Mrs. Lorriby was at hand. She met her husband
at the door, and they had some whispering together, of which the case
of Seaborn was evidently the subject. Joel begged me to stay with
him outside until the horrible thing was over. So we stopped and
peeped in between the logs. We had not to wait long. Mr. Lorriby, his
mate standing by his side, at once began to lay on, and Seaborn roared.
The laying on and the roaring continued until the master was satisfied.
When all was over, I looked into Joel's face. It was radiant with
smiles. I never have seen greater happiness upon the countenance of

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

childhood. Happy little fellow! Seaborn would not be hung. That
illusion was gone forever. He actually hugged his paddle to his breast,
and with a gait even approaching the triumphant, walked into the
house.