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Mrs. Mitten now determined to keep her son at home of nights;
she therefore charged him, “upon pain of her sore displeasure,” not
to leave the house at night without her permission. William promised
obedience, of course; and like a good boy, kept his promise for two
nights and a half, without ever asking leave of absence. On the
second night she seated him at the stand to read to her and his
sisters. He had proceeded about a quarter of an hour, when three
strange whistles were heard near the house. They were not noticed
by Mrs. M. as yet; but the first had no sooner sounded, than William
began to read horribly.

“Now, William,” said his mother, “you've got tired of reading
already; and you're trying how bad you can read, that I may make
you stop!”

“No, I declare I a'nt, ma.”

“Well, what makes you blunder and halt and miscall words so?
What does that incessant whistling mean?”

“That's the way the boys whistle at school,” said William.

“How do they do it! for it sounds like blowing in large phials.”

“They do it by blowing in their hands.”

“What are they blowing about here for? they never did it before.
Go out William, and beg them to desist.”

William obeyed promptly, and it seemed gladly. The whistling
ceased as soon as he went out; and in a few minutes he returned.

“Who are they?” enquired Mrs. Mitten.

“A parcel of school-boys,” said William, “but they said they
wouldn't whistle about the house any more.” He resumed his seat,
and read pretty well until his mother excused him.

The next evening the whistling was renewed; but at such a distance
from the house, as to attract the attention of no one; unless,
perchance William from the events of the preceding night, was led
to notice it.

“Ma,” said he “mayn't I go to the Juvenile Debating Society
to-night?”

“Certainly, my son; but come home as soon as the Society
adjourns.”

He set out, but happening to fall in with Ben and Jeff Glib, by

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the way, (so they were called for short) they proposed going by
Squire King's garden, and getting a few June apples. Ben said,
“that Lawyer King was a very clever man, and didn't care who took
his apples, if they didn't break his trees; and only took what they
wanted to eat.” Jeff said that he knew “that to be a fact; for he
heard him tell William Strain, his wife's little brother, that very day,
to go in with his playmates, and eat as many as they wanted, but not
to break down his trees.”

“Well, if that's the case,” said William, “Ill go; but I wouldn't
steal apples for anything in the world.”

“Neither would I,” said Ben. Law, no! Not for the world.”

“Oh, it's nothing like stealing,” said Jeff. “Sposen you was to
lay down anything, and say you didn't care who took it, if they
didn't break it, and I was to come along at night, and take it, and
not break it, would that be stealing?”

“No,” said Ben, “it's no more stealing than picking up a chip.”

William had attended the Juvenile Debating Society too long and
with too much profit, not to feel the full force of Master Glib's logic,
and consequently his scruples were immediately removed and the
boys proceeded to the garden. The fence was easily ascended, and
they were soon under the best apple tree.

“William,” said Ben in a whisper, “this is a good place to learn
to climb. The limbs are low and I can push you up to them. When
you get in the tree, shake down the apples, and brother Jeff and I
will pick 'em up; but don't shake down more than we can eat; for
Mr. King wouldn't like that, and I should hate to do anything he
don't like. Don't shake hard. The best way is to get on a limb,
and hit a little stomp with your heel, and if they don't come stomp
a little harder.”

Thus instructed, William, with Ben's help, ascended the tree. He
stampt limb after limb until he thought enough had fallen to satisfy
the company, and was about descending, when Jeff said, “Don't come
down yit—we an't got enough yit—I can eat a bosom full. Here,
go out upon this limb and fetch it a pretty hard stomp or two and
that'll do.”

William went out on the limb as directed, and at the first stamp,
missing the limb, he fell, and broke his arm just above the elbow.
His pain was great, and his alarm was greater, but he bore them
with little complaint until he cleared the garden. He then broke
forth in heart-piercing groans, sobs, and lamentations; but not loud
enough to disturb any of the villagers; “Oh, my arm does hurt me

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so bad! Only see how it swings about! Oh, my poor dear mother;
it will kill her. My Heavenly Father, forgive me this one time, and
I never will do the like again! I don't want you two boys to go
home with me. If you please don't go home with me.”

His cries announced his coming before he reached home; for they
became louder as he approached his mother's door. His sisters flew
to him, and his mother rose to follow them; but her strength failed
her and she fell back in her chair. They could not learn the cause
of his wailing until he entered the house; when advancing to his
mother, he sobbed out, “Oh, my dear mother, look at my arm!”

“What, is it broke?”

“Yes, ma'am, I can't move it.”

“Oh, my God, was ever a child doomed to such misfortunes!
Ann send for the Doctor immediately—I have not strength to move.
Send for Doctor Hull and Doctor Barden both.”

The doctors came, and set the arm.

Of course the enquiry was from all, how the accident happened.

“I was going to the Society,” said William, “and was standing
by a tree, and one boy said he'd learn me to climb, and he pushed
me up the tree, and I fell down and broke my arm.”

We will not detain the reader with the many questions which this
explanation provoked, and the answers to them which William gave.
Suffice it to say that Doctor Hull fetched a little grunt of equivocal
signification, and took a chew of tobacco upon it, with as little interest
in it as if he had set a thousand arms broken in this way; but
Doctor Barden was as particular in his enquiries into the case, as
though he meant to report it to the Philadelphia Medical Journal.

The next morning Squire King came over to enquire “how poor
little William was.” He expressed, and no doubt felt, tender sympathies
for the boy; but any one to have marked his eye, would have
supposed that his sympathies gathered about William's feet rather
than his arm.

This might be accounted for without discredit to the Squire's
heart; for being a great hunter, he had contracted a habit of examining
tracks, and track-makers, which beset him at times, and
sometimes upon improper occasions, as in this instance.

“William,” said the Squire with a small dash of waggishness in
his tone and countenance which Bill seemed to think very ill-timed;
“was it a smooth-barked tree, or a rough-barked tree?”

“I—forgot;” drawled out Bill a little crustily.

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“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

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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 stroager 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 it
was an hour after he rose before he could venture from his room,
to face his mother. At length he came, and mingled tears of

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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
able 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,
but 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

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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 now
more congenial to my constitution than a Northern one. Thenceforward,
I have always resided in the South. Having no aim but to
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, as
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 so
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, if
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 to
go to his.”

“Why not let the tuition stand at two hundred dollars, and we
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 at 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

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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
me 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
at 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
not 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

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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 ruaning
about the country with a batch of old rusty, ragged certifieates
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
lok 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.

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