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MR. Tremlett had delayed sending his adopted son to
school from day to day, until he had become so accustomed
to the lively prattle and affectionate ways of the child
that he could not bring himself to think of even a temporary
separation. Every day he discovered some new trait in the
boy's character to excite his admiration and strengthen his
affection. He slept in a chamber adjoining to Mr. Tremlett's
and the old gentleman never retired to his bed without taking
a look at him, and remembering him in his bed-side prayer.
Mrs. Swazey treasured up all his smart sayings and surprising
actions, which she never failed to retail to her employer
when he came home to his dinner, and if she had ever any
reason to fear his displeasure, she was sure to remember some
marvellous and bright saying of Johnny's to tell him. Even
David the coachman, whenver he went down to the counting-room,
always had something to whisper in the old gentleman's
ear about master John, which never failed to give him
immense satisfaction. So that, had not Mr. Tremlett come to the
conclusion, from his own observation, that his adoptedson was
the most remarkable child in the world, the reports of others
must have led him to do so. It is a great thing indeed, to
be the favorite of one who has it in his power to grant favors,
for then you are the favorite of all the rest of the world. But

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little Johnny had merits enough of his own to entitle him to
to the favor of the world without regard to the favouritism
of his sole protector; yet let us not be disappointed if he
should meet with disfavour bye and bye, for merit does not
always win its way, as our reader doubtless knows.

But Mr. Tremlett knew that however good the natural
talents of his son might be, and however great his genius, that
they would be worthless to him in an age where men act
according to prescribed rules, and live not out of themselves
but out of books, without book-learning; and as he knew not
what better course to take, he resolved at last to procure a
private tutor for the boy, but as he doubted his own fitness to
select a competent person for the high trust, he determined to
ask the advice of professor Dobbins, the learned brother-in-law
of Mr. Bates, who could not, as a matter of course, be
otherwise than competent to advise in such an emergency,
because he was a professor.

It fortunately happened that the professor was staying at
the house of Mr. Bates for a few days; and when Mr. Tremlett
signified to the book-keeper that he wished to consult with
his brother-in-law on such an important occasion, that gentleman
extolled the learning and accomplishments of his relation
to such a degree, that the kind-hearted old gentleman resolved
to see him that very night, and insisted on accompanying Mr.
Bates, when he went home to his tea. The book-keeper
could not refuse such an honor, of course; but he would have
been very glad to have had an opportunity of getting his wife's
consent first; but as the time would not admit of it, he made
a very desperate resolution not to care for any thing that she
might say or do.

When they entered the house, Mr. Bates left his employer
in the parlor, and went into the kitchen to acquaint his wife
with what he had done.

“The fact is, dear,” said Mr. Bates, “he wants to consult
with the professor, about a tutor for the young gentleman.”

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“He shall do no such thing!” said the lady, “and do you
go and turn the old sinner out of my house: my brother shall
not keep company with such people; if you see fit to do so
you may; but my family shall not disgrace themselves!”

“Why, the fact is, dear, we must treat him respectfully,
you know, because I expect one of these days to be taken into
the firm. And besides, every body is liable to do wrong, sometimes,”
added Mr. Bates.

“Now don't provoke me, don't!” said the lady; “the Lord
knows I have trials enough already. But what do you stand
there for? Why don't you go and talk to him, till the professor
comes home? Do go and leave me or I shall fly out
of my skin.”

Mr. Bates returned to the parlor to entertain his employer;
and Mrs. Bates immediately began to wash the children's faces
and to give the most imperative orders to her servant about
setting the tea-table. It was surprising to see with what
earnestness and dexterity she set herself to work to snug up
the tea-room; and with what a lavish hand she dished out
preserved plumbs and quinces from earthen pots, which were
tied up and labelled in the most careful manner. Such racing
up and down the back stairs, and such a commotion in the
kitchen, had not been known before. One would have thought
that the lady was making preparations to entertain a very distinguished
guest instead of one whom she held in such utter
abhorrence. But if the exertions of Mrs. Bates, in her preparations
for tea, were calculated to excite surprise, after the
scene between her and Mr. Bates, what will the reader think
when he is informed that that virtuous lady not only dressed
her person in her most elegant dress, but that she clothed her
face in the sweetest smiles of which it was capable, as she
entered the parlor, and requested Mr. Tremlett and her husband
to walk out to tea; and as she took her seat at the table
she apologised for every thing upon it, and declared that there
was nothing fit to eat, but that if she had only known that Mr.

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Tremlett was going to honor her and the professor with his
company, she would have tried to get something for him.

Mr. Tremlett thought the supper very abundant and very
good; but Mrs. Bates would not believe those were his real
sentiments; indeed she was sure from his not eating anything
that they could not be. Upon which the kind hearted old
gentleman helped himself very extravagantly to every thing,
because he would not hurt the lady's pride by not partaking
of her luxuries. But the two children looked at him and
seemed to think, `never fear, he'll eat enough, particularly of
the quinces.' Mrs. Bates, however, continued to insist that he
did'nt eat anything, and kept prompting `my love,' which was
her dress phrase for Mr. Bates, to hand the cake, until the old
gentleman felt very glad to escape from her attentions. It so
happened that the professor did not come home until they had
left the table, but as he was engaged to deliver a lecture the
same evening on the early settlement of Byefield, he did not
take tea.

The professor was a tall thin young man, with high cheek
bones, a pointed chin and waxy complexion, his eyes were
light, his hair of no particular colour, and but very little of it.
Mr. Tremlett could not remember that he had ever seen a
professor before, but professor Dobbins exactly realized his
ideal, excepting that he should have worn a white cambric
neck-cloth instead of a bombazine stock. As soon as he was
informed of the object of Mr. Tremlett's visit, he broke out in a
discourse on education, and particularly self-education in
which he made a display of the most thrilling eloquence.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Bates listened with profound admiration,
and Mr. Tremlett appeared to be very much puzzled if he
was not very much pleased.

“Education, sir,” said the professor, rising from his seat
and resting his left hand on the back of a chair, while he
elevated his right arm; “education is like a river;” and
then after a sufficient pause to give his great idea time to sink,

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as it were, into the very depths of his auditors' understanding
he proceeded; “Education is a river, which made up of
many insignificant little springs and rills, yet flows on, a
mighty current, majestic in its grandeur, irresistible in its
might, self-acting, fertilizing in its course, and bearing upon
its bosom the meanest and the mightiest things; increasing
in majesty and might as it flows, just as it has attained to
its greatest depth and magnitude, it is suddenly swallowed
up in the occean and its end is as obscure as its rise.
So with the human mind, or what we call education; at
first it is but a little rivulet of reason, but every day the
springs of life rush in and swell its volume and its capacity,
until it increases in might so that it begins to weigh the stars
and grasp at the hidden things of Nature; when suddenly just
as its flood is at the strongest, it is swallowed up in the occean
of death, and we see it nor hear of it more. But the places
through which it has flowed, will bear witness of its presence;
and the banks and meadows it has fertilized will yield a full
harvest of rich fruits and bright flowers. But sir, the river
will never be lost; it only seems to be. Does it not keep flowing
on? It goes into the ocean, the ocean yields it to the
clouds, the clouds, which you think are bound on aimless errands,
bear it back again to the mountain top, the hill side
and the little lake, and these again return it to its wonted
course, and thus the river flows on forever and forever. So
with education. Do you think that the scholar's learning, or
the merchant's experience, or the statesman's eloquence, are
buried with them when they lie down in the grave? No! It
is a poor thought. The laws which govern mind, govern matter.
But if matter never dies, how much more shall thought
live. You know not how many lessons you have given yourself,
sir, and you would be startled if all those could be placed
before you who have been taught by you, and who will themselves
teach others the lessons they learned of you when you
little dreamed that you were teaching. But we are all

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teachers as we are all learners. I once knew a gentleman
who had several sons, but his income would only allow him
to give but one of them the advantages of a collegiate education,
so he selected out the feeblest one among them and sent
him to college. The young man, to show his gratitude for
the partiality of his father, studied hard and ruined his health;
the year that he graduated he died, and the whole burden of
his father's grief was the loss of the money which he had expended,
as he thought, to no purpose. O, if I had only educated
one of my other sons he would say. But the poor foolish
man did not perceive that his money had been laid out to
good purpose in educating a soul for eternity, and that his son
imparted as much learning to others as he gained himself.
From these remarks you will perceive the nature of my views
on education.”

“It is all very correct, no doubt;” observed Mr. Tremlett,
“but is there no particular system of education that you would
recommend?”

“The system that I would recommend,” said the professor,
“is the system of Nature. Follow Nature.”

“But it is not a very easy matter to determine what Nature
is, where all is the effect of Art,” replied Mr. Tremlett.

“Nature is every where, she is every thing,” said the professor;
“listen to her; she speaks to you in the cataract; in
the noiseless dews; the stars, the sun, the moon, all speak to
you.”

“Very true, I grant it,” replied the merchant, “but they do
not speak an intelligible language, to me at least; they require
an interpreter; and I have generally found that those
who associate most with Nature have the least knowledge of
her.”

“Then study the works of men's hands,” replied professor
Dobbins, “a noble cathedral speaks a sublimer language than
any poem, satire or painting; it stands out of doors and all
men may read it.”

“But we have no cathedrals,” said Mr. Tremlett.

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“Then build them;” replied the professor, giving the back
of the chair an emphatic blow, as much as to say “there's a
clincher.”

“But that would be an expensive mode of educating my
boy, professor,” said Mr. Tremlett, “to say nothing of the
time it would require. Your cathedrals are not constructed
in a day like your shingle meeting houses. Pray, do you not
consider books essential in education?”

“Books are well enough,” replied the professor, “perhaps
very well; Hesiod, Homer, Horace and Heraclitus; Plato, Plutarch,
Pliny and Polybius; Socrates, Sophocles; Simonides
and—and—Smollet; all contain something. The languages
too it is perhaps well enough to know something about.
Study Greek, Hebrew, Latin, Syriac, Persian, and Coptic;
read all the English classics; in short read everything; the
German is a very good language, read plenty of that; read
Spanish, French, Italian and Portuguese authors, even Dutch;
several of their authors have written on dykes and tulips.
Don't neglect the Dutch. They give an excellent idea of
squareness, something which does not exist in Nature. But
don't neglect Nature. Play on the organ and the German
flute, and cultivate the soil; deliver lectures and mingle with
your fellow beings. Your fellow beings are very well for
society.”

“The fact is,” said Mr. Bates interposing, “the professor
has got so much learning himself that he—”

“I hope my love, you are not going to pretend to instruct
the professor!” said Mrs. Bates interrupting him.

“I was only going to observe, dear, that—”

“Then I desire that you just won't,” said the lady, with
an air; for she began to be tired of the subordinate part of a
listener.

The professor, thinking, no doubt, that he had succeeded
in giving Mr. Tremlett a high idea of his abilities as a teacher,
generously offered to resign his situation as Professor of

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Penmanship and belles letters in the Bye-field Academy, and undertake
the education of the boy, himself, for a moderate
salary.”

“I will give you a specimen of my manner of teaching,” he
said, “Peter step out and answer a few questions.”

This was addressed to Mr. Bates' eldest son, who immediately
stepped out in front of his mother and made a bow.

“The fact is,” said Mr. Bates, “it is only three days since
the professor took Peter in hand, and I think he has learned
astonishing.”

“You think!” said Mrs. Bates in an under tone, meant to
reach her husband's ear alone; as though it was a pretty joke
for Mr. Bates to pretend to exercise his thoughts.

“Now Peter,” said the professor, “what is existence?”

“Existence is a word,” said Peter.

“Very good,” said the professor, “what idea does the word
convey to the mental perception?”

“It is a word signifying to be, to do, and to suffer;” replied
the pupil.

“Peter!” said the professor sternly, “consider what you are
saying.”

“The fact is the child is a little confused;” said Mr. Bates
turning to his employer, and looking in an opposite direction
to his wife.

“O, now I know,” said Peter, and his father's eyes glistened
with delight, and the professor stood very erect and looked
very professional. “Existence is a troglodyte.”

“Merciful powers!” exclaimed the professor.

“The child is only in his tenth year,” said Mr. Bates.

“But never mind existence,” said the professor, “let us ascend
to the higher branches. Now Peter, speak up; what is
man?”

“A man, a man—a man is a brute,” replied Peter.

“How exceedingly annoying,” said the agitated professor.

“What are all men, my nephew, what is their

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distinguishing peculiarities? It was but yesterday that you told me.
Now.”

“All men are brutes,” replied Peter.

“Oh, oh!” groaned the dissappointed professor.

“Well,” said Peter, “that's what mother says.”

“To be sure I say so,” added the lady, “and why do you
not learn him brother to say that men are wicked hypocritical
creatures?”

“Because, sister,” replied the professor, with forced calmness,
“that is my definition of woman.”

At this the lady burst into tears, and catching her son in her
arms, rushed out of the room, leaving the professor and Mr.
Tremlett overwhelmed with astonishment. But Mr. Bates
was not in the least astonished as he had been expecting such
a finale, ever since the examination of Peter commenced, but
he was very much frightened for he knew on whose head the
full blast of the storm would descend.

As the hour had arrived for the professor to go to the Lyceum
where he was to deliver his lecture, he and Mr. Tremlett
took their hats and left the house together.

Although it might gratify the scandal-loving part of our
readers to know what transpired between Mr. and Mrs. Bates
after Mr. Tremlett left the house, it would be a wide departure
from our design in writing this history, to relate it; and
we shall, therefore, even at the risk of displeasing some of our
readers, close this chapter, and in the next return to the subject
of this memoir, whom we do not mean to keep long out
of sight.