I had often in what manner I could render the Dominie more comfortable. I felt that to him I was as much indebted as to any living being, and one day I ventured to open the subject; but his reply was .
“I see, Jacob, my son, what thou wouldst wish: but it must not be. Man is but a creature of habit; habit becomes to him not only necessity but luxury. For five-and-forty years have I , and forcing knowledge into the brains of those who have never proved so apt as thou. Truly, it hath been a painful task, yet can I not it. I might, at one time, that is, during the first ten years, have met the offer with ; for I felt the and of wearying myself with the , when I would fain have commented upon the various of style in the ancient Greek and Latin authors; but now, all that has passed away. The eternal round of , , and syntax has charms for me from habit: the rule of three is preferable to the problems of Euclid, and even the Latin grammar has its delights. In short, I have a hujus pleasure in hic, haec, hoc; (cluck cluck;) and even the flourishing of the of that tree of knowledge, the birch, hath become a pleasurable occupation to me, if not to those upon whom it is . I am like an old horse, who hath so long gone round and round in a mill, that he cannot walk straight forward; and, if it pleases the , I will die in harness. Still I thank thee, Jacob; and thank God that thou hast again proved the goodness of thy heart, and given me one more reason to rejoice in thee and in thy love; but thine offer, if accepted, would not add to my happiness; for what feeling can be more to an old man near into his grave than the reflection that his life, if not , has at least been useful?”
I had not for some time received a visit from Tom; and, surprised at this, I went down to his father’s to make about him. I found the old couple sitting in-doors; the weather was fine, but old Tom was not at his work; even the old woman’s netting was thrown aside.
“Where is Tom?” inquired I, after wishing them good morning.
“Oh deary me!” cried the old woman, putting her up to her eyes; “that wicked good-for-nothing girl!”
“Good heavens! what is the matter?” inquired I of old Tom.
“The matter, Jacob,” replied old Tom, stretching out his two wooden legs, and placing his hands upon his knees, “is, that Tom has ’listed for a sodger.”
“’Listed for a soldier!”
“Yes; that’s as sartain as it’s true; and what’s worse, I’m told the is ordered to the West Indies. So, what with fever o’ mind and yellow fever, he’s food for the land , that’s sartain. I think now,” continued the old man, brushing a tear from his eye with his fore-finger, “that I see his bones under the palisades; for I know the place well.”
“Don’t say so, Tom; don’t say so!”
“O Jacob! beg pardon if I’m too free now; but can’t you help us?”
“I will if I can, depend upon it; but tell me how this happened.”
“Why, the long and the short of it is this: that girl, Mary Stapleton, has been his ruin. When he first came home he was well received, and looked forward to being and living with us; but it didn’t last long. She couldn’t leave off her old tricks; and so, that Tom might not get the upper hand, she plays him off with the of a recruiting party, and flies off from one to the other, just like the ticker of the old clock there does from one side to the other. One day the sergeant was the fancy man, and the next day it was Tom. At last Tom gets out of patience, and wishes to come to a fair understanding. So he axes her whether she chooses to have the sergeant or to have him; she might take her choice, but he had no notion of being played with in that way, after all her letters and all her promises. Upon this she huffs , and tells Tom he may go about his business, for she didn’t care if she never sees him no more. So Tom’s blood was up, and he called her a damned jilt, and, in my opinion, he was near to the truth; so then they had a regular breeze, and part company. Well, this made Tom very , and the next day he would have begged her pardon, and come to her terms, for, you see, Jacob, a man in love has no ; but she being still angry, tells him to go about his business, as she means to marry the sergeant in a week. Tom turns away again quite mad; and it so happens that he goes into the public-house where the sergeant hangs out, hoping to be revenged on him, and meaning to have a regular set-to, and see who is the best man; but the sergeant wasn’t there, and Tom takes pot after pot to drive away care; and when the sergeant returned, Tom was not a little in liquor. Now, the sergeant was a knowing chap, and when he comes in, and perceives Tom with his face flushed, he guesses what was to come, so, instead of saying a word, he goes to another table, and dashes his fist upon it, as if in a passion. Tom goes up to him, and says, ‘Sergeant, I’ve known that girl long before you, and if you are a man, you’ll stand up for her.’ ‘Stand up for her; yes,’ replied the sergeant, ‘and so I would have done yesterday, but the blasted jilt has turned me to the right about and sent me away. I won’t fight now, for she won’t have me—any more than she will you.’ Now when Tom hears this, he becomes more ............