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diff --git a/78964-0.txt b/78964-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6bc4f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/78964-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1607 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78964 *** + +Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + +New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain. + + + +[Illustration: ROBERT ESCAPING FROM HIS LESSON.] + + + +[Illustration: THE HAPPY HOME STORIES.] + + + + LAZY ROBERT; + + OR, + + THE COLONEL'S SERVANT + + + BY AUNT HATTIE. + + [_Madeline Leslie._] + + + "We command you, that if any would not work, neither + should he eat."—_Paul._ + + + [Illustration] + + + + BOSTON: + HENRY A. YOUNG & CO. + 24 CORNHILL. + + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by + HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., + in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + + + + LIST + + OF VOLUMES IN + + THE HAPPY HOME STORIES. + + FOR BOYS. + + [Illustration] + + I. DILIGENT DICK. + + II. COUSIN WILLIE. + + III. LAZY ROBERT. + + IV. LITTLE FRITZ. + + V. THE NEW BUGGY. + + VI. BERTIE AND HIS SISTERS. + + + + LIST + + OF VOLUMES IN + + THE HAPPY HOME STORIES. + + FOR GIRLS. + + [Illustration] + + I. LITTLE FLYAWAY. + + II. THE SPOILED PICTURE. + + III. FLEDA'S CHILDHOOD. + + IV. THE SINGING GIRL. + + V. MOLLY AND THE WINE GLASS + + VI. THE TWINS. + + + + CONTENTS. + + ———— + + + CHAPTER I. + + ROBERT AND THE MAJOR + + CHAPTER II. + + ROBERT AND THE REGIMENT + + CHAPTER III. + + ROBERT'S LESSON + + CHAPTER IV. + + ROBERT'S DECEIT + + CHAPTER V. + + ROBERT'S CONFESSION + + CHAPTER VI. + + ROBERT'S SPELLING + + CHAPTER VII. + + ROBERT'S LETTER + + CHAPTER VIII. + + ROBERT, THE RUNAWAY + + CHAPTER IX. + + ROBERT'S MOTHER + + CHAPTER X. + + ROBERT'S DEATH + + + + LAZY ROBERT. + + [Illustration] + +CHAPTER I. + +ROBERT AND THE MAJOR. + +"ANOTHER failure, Robert," said his aunt sorrowfully, as she made a +mark in a small blank book. "What were you doing all the time I set you +to study?" + +"I did study. I mean, I did some of the time. The butcher came and +brought his dog, and he tried to fight Major. And then of course, I had +to go out and stop them." + +"And Major followed you into the house, and you had a grand frolic in +the library, which was the noise I heard. Oh, Robert!" + +"I tried to keep him out right hard, 'deed I did, aunt Josephine, but +he would come. And then he looked so coaxable and cunning, I couldn't +help one little game just to show the old fellow that we were good +friends again, 'deed that was all, aunty." + +"Have you and Major had a falling out, Robert?" + +There was a little twinkle in the lady's eye which encouraged the lad, +and he forthwith entered on a minute account of his grievances. + +"You know my stuffed squirrel. It had such funny little bright eyes; +they looked exactly like as if it was alive, and such a long, bushy +tail, with wire in it so that you could bend it any way; and it was +stuffed just as full as—as—" + +"As Robert Weeks," suggested his aunt playfully. + +"Yes, aunty," he added with a bright flush at the comparison. "Well, +you see, Major couldn't bear the sight of my squirrel. He'd run at it, +barking as loud as he could; and then when the tail went up, you see I +fixed it with a string, Major's tail would go down quicker 'n shot, and +he'd back out of the scrape real mean. Oh, it was the best fun!" + +Robert forgot all about his lessons, bad marks, good resolutions and +every thing else, but Major and the squirrel. His head went back, and +he laughed, laughed till he ached all over. + +"Well," said aunt Josephine, "I don't quite understand what all this +has to do with it." + +"Oh, I forgot!" exclaimed the boy, trying to recover himself. +"Yesterday, I coaxed Major up-stairs. He was awful shy of my room; and +I set Bonny up on the bed, and stuck his tail right straight up in the +air. Major began to growl, and I laughed at him. Just then you called +me to recite, and I ran down, shutting major in the room." + +"No wonder you failed entirely your lesson, Robert!" + +"I'm sorry, aunty, 'deed I am; but I kept wondering what Major would +do. I never thought he'd act so." + +Robert's face grew sober so suddenly that his aunt asked: + +"What did he do?" + +"Why he tore my squirrel all to pieces, so there wasn't hardly a speck +of him left, only the wire in his tail. The fur and the bran were +scattered all round, and Major was growling awfully. I was so mad, I +took a cane and whipped him, till he couldn't stand." + +"Oh, Robert, how could you!" + +"I know 'twas mean, aunt Josephine. I was right sorry, 'deed I was. I +meant to save some of my dinner for the poor fellow to make up, but it +did taste so good I couldn't stop till every mouthful was gone. But I +coaxed cook for some pieces, and gave him a whole plate full. Oh, Major +was so glad to see that I had forgiven him!" + +"I should think it was for Major to forgive you, Robert." + +"Yes, aunty, I suppose it was, but he didn't see it in that light. And +so this morning, when the butcher's dog came, I wanted to show the old +fellow I didn't keep any grudge against him. I believe he loves me +better than ever. He watches me every minute to see what I am going to +do next." + +"Major is a noble dog, Robert—too trustworthy and affectionate to +receive such cruel treatment. If you cannot control your temper so as +to refrain from beating him, I shall have to devise some method of +separating you." + +"Why, aunt Josephine, I wouldn't whip him again for all the world! And +he knows it. I cried over him and asked him to forgive me; and we had a +regular making up." + +"But, Robert, this habit of idleness grows upon you every day. I'm +afraid after all I can't keep my promise to your mother, and I shall +have to send you back to her." + +"Oh, please don't do that!" urged the lad, growing very red in the +face. "I will study, 'deed I will, I'll begin now, right away and +I wont look off my book once, only I do hate grammar. Need I study +grammar? I'll get geography, and find out all the map questions; and +I'll try to master the spelling, though that's awful hard. But I hate +grammar and sums." + +"You must learn to like them, Robert. You don't know the pleasure of +study, because you never apply your mind to any thing. I watched you +the other day at your spelling lesson. Shall I tell you how you did?" + +"Yes, if you please, aunty," said Robert hanging his head. + +"You seated yourself near the window where you could not fail to see +every one who passed, and with your head propped by your hand you began: + +"'C-o-n-s-t-i-t-u-t-i-o-n, constitution, whew! What a long word! I know +I can never learn it. What's the use, I wonder? C-o-n; Oh, there is the +milk cart! And the woman gets so cross after she rings her bell, if +cook don't go quick. I'll guess I'll run.' + +"'I wouldn't go,' Ellen pleads; 'cook will attend to her own business.' + +"You take up the book again with a sigh. + +"'Spelling is horrid, Ellen; don't you think so? Great long words that +have no meaning.' + +"Ellen shook her head laughing. + +"'Now here's another, c-o-m-b-i-n-a-t-i-o-n, combination. Do you think, +Ellen, aunty 'll let me go out in the boat?' + +"'I think you're a lazy, good for nothing fellow,' was her laughing +reply. 'I should think you'd be ashamed to idle your time when mamma +takes so much pains with you.' + +"Your countenance shows that for the moment you are of the same +opinion, and you take up your book with a sudden resolution. But it is +only for a moment, with the first temptation you allow your attention +to be diverted. Ellen's ball rolls to the floor, and you jump to catch +it and spend two or three minutes in crawling under the sofa to get it +out." + +"I want to be kind to Ellen; she's so good to me, aunty." + +"Of course, but when you are studying, you ought not to see any thing +that goes on. I am beginning to be quite discouraged. I told your +mother I thought I could interest you in your lessons. She has her +heart set on your being a scholar as your father was; and your mind +is bright enough. But the fact can't be denied, Robert, you are too +lazy to apply yourself. And another-thing, I begin to believe what +your uncle says, that you eat too much. He says, you stuff yourself at +every meal till you can scarcely breathe. This is wrong, my dear boy, +as well as ungentlemanly. The Bible tells us to be temperate in all +things. Immoderate eating unfits any one for the active duties of life. +It impairs the vigor of your mind, makes you dull and heavy, and in the +end will certainly injure your health." + + + +CHAPTER II. + +ROBERT AND THE REGIMENT. + +"MAMMA," softly called Ellen the next morning, "please come here a +moment, and see what Robert is doing." + +The lady followed, wondering what would happen next. + +Ellen quietly pushed open the door leading into the library. And there +sat the boy in a rocking-chair, in the centre of the room, his fingers +pressed into his ears, a large shade covered with green silk tied over +his eyes, with his book in his lap, rocking himself with all his might. + +"What is orthoepy?" he was saying. "Orthoepy is—is—bother it, I thought +I knew that Orthoepy is,—is—" He stamped his foot,—"I can't remember +it; I think it's wicked for me to study grammar, it makes me so angry; +I mean to tell aunt Josephine so." + +The lady and her daughter darted from the room without being seen. +Presently, she sent a servant to tell Robert she would like to see him. + +"I have tried; indeed, aunty. I wouldn't go to sleep last night till +I made a resolution to begin right off. I shut Major up in the coal +cellar, so he needn't take off my attention, and—I—really I—" + +"No matter now, Robert. I want you to do something for me. Part of a +regiment of soldiers are going to pass here in a few minutes, and I +want you to count them. I have a particular reason for wishing to know +how many there are. Do you think you can do it?" + +"Oh, yes, aunty; 'deed I can! I know how to count right smart." + +Robert's brown eyes kindled, and there was an expression of resolution +on his face seldom seen there. + +"Stand in the bay window," added the lady, "and be sure you count +correctly." + +"Yes, aunty. I believe I hear the music now. No, it's poor Major. Shall +I have time to let him out?" + +"I think so." + +Robert flew over the stairs, opened the cellar door, and not waiting to +answer Major's joyful bark, was speedily back at his place in the bay +window. + +In a few moments, a company of boys running on the sidewalk, +continually looking behind them, gave intimation that the soldiers were +in sight, and presently the sound of martial music was heard. + +"Must I count the band too, aunty?" cried Robert, his cheeks crimson +with excitement, and not daring to turn his eyes from the window. + +"No, none but the officers and soldiers." + +Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still the boy stood, his +attention so completely absorbed in the business of counting that he +noticed nothing that was passing in the room. + +"Two, four, six, eight," he went on aloud as they marched by two and +two in regular, martial order. It was fortunate for him that they were +not marching in double quick time; indeed the regiment was passing from +New York to Washington by the Baltimore and Ohio cars, and knew that +they had abundant time to walk leisurely from one station to another. + +When the last one had passed out of sight, Robert threw up his arras +with a triumphant shout. + +"Just seven hundred and sixty-eight, officers and all. Oh, don't I wish +I was a soldier? Didn't they look splendidly, though?" + +"You forget, Robert," said his aunt in a sad tone, "that it is not all +of a soldier's duty to march leisurely through the streets in dress +uniform to the sound of music, and with admiring spectators thronging +the windows. Don't you remember the line of ambulances after the last +battle?" + +"I shall never forget that sight as long as I live," faltered Ellen. +They went so slowly along, and then one after another backed up to the +door of the great hospital. The nurses seemed real kind though and +took hold of the litters as though they truly pitied them. "Oh, mamma, +wasn't it dreadful; so many without arms and legs, and their heads +done up in towels. Don't you remember how we sat up all night tearing +bandages and scraping lint, and making beef tea and coffee for the +nurses?" + +"Oh, that's only once in a great while!" suggested Robert. "I heard +some gentlemen talking about it, and they said only one in two or three +hundred were ever hurt. I mean to be a soldier when I'm a man." + +"I thought you meant to be a pig-driver," said Ellen archly. + +"Oh, I gave that up with short dresses!" exclaimed Robert laughing +heartily. "When I began to wear pants, I changed my mind and said I'd +be a constable!" + +"A constable has to be very tall and strong," urged Ellen. "Now you +grow very fast, but it is all in breadth." + +"I've resolved this long time to be a soldier." + +"Your mother will never consent." + +"Then I shall run away, and join the army. After that, I shall write to +her, and tell her what a splendid time I'm having, and how I like it +and then she wont care." + +"That would be very wrong, Robert," remarked his aunt. + +"I don't think there's much danger of his really doing it, mamma, he is +too fond of lying in bed and taking his ease, and having a good dinner, +to enlist for marching through swamps and sleeping on the ground and +eating hard tack and raw pork." + +"Pshaw! That's just as much as girls know," angrily retorted Robert. +"I've been in camp before I came to Baltimore, and I know all about it." + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ROBERT'S LESSON. + +"HOW many soldiers did you say there were, Robert?" inquired his aunt. + +"Seven hundred and sixty-eight." + +"Come and sit by me. I want to say something; and I want your whole +attention. Ellen, will you sit in the library a few minutes?" + +"Have I been naughty, aunt Josey?" inquired the boy rather frightened +at the lady's serious face. + +"No, but listen! Do you know why I asked you to count the soldiers in +the regiment?" + +"I suppose you're going to give them stockings as you did the other +one. I saw heaps and heaps piled up in the back room and little balls +of yarn to mend them with." + +"No, Robert! I was simply trying an experiment on you. When I visited +Georgetown last spring, I found your mother worried about you. She +told me she had made great sacrifices to keep you at school; but the +teachers complained that you would not study, that you were too lazy +to make the necessary application. She shed tears as she talked with +me; and I tried to comfort her. I knew she had not herself the time +to spend on your lessons, because your grandparents need so much +attention. And then I made some excuse for you on account of their +indulgence." + +"Yes, aunty, I never could study there, grandpa used to want me to play +dominoes with him; and grandma was always calling me to hold yarn for +her to wind. And then they didn't believe in keeping boys too strict. +They said it cowed me down to study so much." + +"I'm afraid you don't know what the word study means, Robert;—but I +was telling you how I came to invite you here. Your father was my dear +brother. He was the oldest, and I the youngest child. Five brothers and +sisters between us died. We clung to each other more on that account I +believe. When he died, he made me promise to interest myself for you, +his only child, and I have tried to do so." + +Mrs. Woodward sat silent for a few minutes, her thoughts reverting to +the painful scene. Her dying brother lying in bed propped by pillows, +herself seated by his side, trying to calm her fears in order to listen +to his last words. + +"I made a mistake, Josephine," he said faintly, "a mistake which has +blighted my whole life. Father was right when he told me he did not +think my feelings for Annie would last. Ah, it was true, a fancy, a +boy's fancy for a pretty face and lively manners, that was all. She has +nothing to inspire a lasting affection, but I have tried never to let +her know this. She has been satisfied with what I could give her; but +my boy. Oh, Josephine! I cannot leave my boy under such influences as +he will have at his grandfather's. By our love to each other, I ask you +to do what you can for him." + +Then she recalled her answer given freely, heartily. + +"I will, brother, I will." + +She was recalled from the past by a growl from Major who was standing +by Robert submitting with as much patience as he could to having his +ears pulled. Quietly the lady rose, and put the dog from the room. + +"You must attend now," she said firmly, though there were tears in +her eyes. "I told your mother I would bring you home with me for one +year; and I would do my best to cultivate a love for study. I did not +encourage her to suppose that you would ever become a professional man +as your father was, but that you would try to apply yourself so as to +make a man of business, I had no doubt. + +"Now, Robert, almost four months have passed. I have devoted to your +lessons nearly twice the time I give Ellen, but I can not see that you +have improved in the least. You know why I do not send you to school, +because the boys of your age are so much in advance of you, that you +were ready to cry for shame, and because you promised faithfully to do +your best. + +"Yesterday, I was so discouraged, I was on the point of sending you +back to your mother. Only my promise to your father to do what I +could for you, held me back. I began to be really afraid you were +wanting in some faculty of mind so that you could not apply yourself. +I resolved to try an experiment. That is the reason I asked you to +count the soldiers. It really required quite an effort to number them +correctly. I stood behind you and did it, but you had no difficulty. +Why, Robert? Just because you were interested. I am relieved on one +point. You can study and apply your mind if you please; and you are +acting very wickedly to waste your time and energies as you have done +since you have been here with me. God has given you health, a fine +constitution and a good mind. He requires you to use them. You remember +the unfaithful steward who hid his talent in the earth; and how God +punished him. + +"Soon your opportunities for study will be passed, and the time for +entering upon the duties of a man will come. How will you meet these +responsibilities? You can neither be a merchant, nor a farmer, without +some degree of book learning. Now you can neither write nor spell +correctly, to your mother. How could you make out a bill, or keep +accounts? If you went into society, you would not be respected, because +you cannot talk good English; and you will not apply yourself properly +to the study of English grammar." + +"I don't understand it. I have tried, 'deed I have," faltered Robert in +a grieved tone. + +"No, I don't think you really have tried. Your mind floats about like +a cork on the water, and the longer you allow it to do so, the more +difficult it will be to apply yourself." + +"What shall I do, aunt Josephine? I like to stay here a great deal +better than I do at home." + +"Why do you?" + +"Oh, for a good many reasons! I had to cut up the kindling every +morning; and then we didn't have very good things to eat. Besides I had +to wear old patched clothes." + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +ROBERT'S DECEIT. + +"WHERE is Robert?" inquired his uncle a few days later, coming in from +the street in an excited manner. + +"Up in his room, studying his lesson. He has idled away all the +morning, and I forbade him to leave his room till he could repeat every +word of it." + +Mrs. Woodward sighed as she said this; and her husband glancing +anxiously at her, noticed that she looked pale and careworn. + +"I will go up, and talk to the boy," he said angrily. "There must and +shall be an end to this." + +Robert's door was locked from the inside. + +"Unlock this, and be quick about it," said his uncle. + +There was no answer. + +Again he called, "Robert, are you there? Unlock your door, I say." + +Still, no movement from inside. + +Putting his eye to the key-hole, Mr. Woodward saw at once that the key +had been taken out. After trying half a dozen keys from other doors +in the same hall, he found one which would turn the bolt, and by this +time, Ellen was with him. + +They entered together. But Robert was not there. The room was empty, +and the window wide open. It was a back room and opened directly upon a +shed. + +By jumping six or eight feet, Robert could reach the shed; and from +this, let himself to the ground by a tree whose branches rested on the +roof. + +"Call your mother," was all that Woodward said, after standing at the +window a short time. + +She entered with a look of surprise and asked instantly: + +"Where is he?" + +"He has jumped from the window to the shed, and escaped to the street +by the back yard. Following and pelting an old drunken soldier, I saw +a boy greatly resembling him, but I doubted the evidence of my own +eyes. I hurried home hoping, but scarcely daring to expect that I was +mistaken." + +"Oh, mamma! Look at his slate," exclaimed Ellen, "and see, he has been +eating in bed." + +In one corner of the slate were a few figures, and directly underneath, +Mrs. Woodward had worked out an example to show him the principle. The +rest of the slate on both sides was filled up with the most grotesque +figures. Men with enormous noses, women with crooked noses, men with +pipes in their mouths, men with huge heads and spindle legs, fat men +and lean men, etc., etc. + +Ellen laughed heartily as she showed the figures to her mother. But the +lady was too much worried even to smile. + +"What shall we do?" she asked in a despairing tone. + +Mr. Woodward looked at his watch, then took a raisin stem between his +fingers, and shook his head. + +"He gets lots of raisins, mamma," suggested Ellen. "I see him chewing +them in church, and he sometimes gives me some." + +"Where does he get them?" inquired her father glancing at his wife. + +"I do not know. Perhaps he spends his pocket money that way." + +"He eats enough in all conscience at the table," said the gentleman +pointing at the same time to crumbs of rich cake. + +"What is it best to do?" Mrs. Woodward asked again. + +"Leave every thing here exactly as we found it, lock the door and go +down to dinner. If this is thoughtlessness or fun, we shall know it by +his actions. If it is an attempt to deceive, he will deny that he has +been out. But I tell you, Josephine, as I have told you before, that +idleness, if not cured now, will be the ruin of that boy." + +Mr. Woodward returned the key to the door from which he had taken +it, went down-stairs and seated himself, with his newspaper in his +accustomed place by the window. + +Mrs. Woodward went sadly to her store closet, found the door to the +inner cupboard unlocked and crumbs of cake scattered about. + +On opening the box of raisins, she started with surprise. It was empty. + +"Oh Robert! Oh my brother!" she cried with a burst of tears. + +Locking both the inner and outer door, and putting the keys in her +pocket, she returned to her own chamber, where on her knees before God +she implored wisdom to guide aright the child left in her charge. + +Half an hour later, the dinner bell rang and to the astonishment of +all but Mr. Woodward, down came Robert, rushing over the stairs in his +usual noisy manner. + +The gentleman sitting near the window had seen the boy skulk slyly +close to the house into the back gate, from whence he could easily gain +his room without being seen if the halls happened to be empty. + +"I smell something good," exclaimed the boy snuffing the air. "I do +like good dinners." + +"Have you learned your lessons?" gravely inquired his aunt, fixing her +sorrowful eyes on his face. + +"I've got most all, but the sums are awful hard. I can't make them out." + +Ellen thought of the funny men's noses on the slate and began to laugh, +but was checked by a glance of reproof from her father. + +"Have you really tried to make them out, Robert?" asked his uncle, +holding his carvers suspended while he waited for an answer. + +"Yes, uncle, 'deed I have," answered the boy coloring furiously. + +"Did you not take your mind from your book, or leave your room during +study-hours?" + +The boy glanced quickly from the questioner to his aunt, but seeing +nothing to excite his suspicion answered in a cheerful voice: + +"Oh no, indeed, uncle! Aunt Josephine told me not to leave the room, +and I didn't. I studied real hard, 'deed I did." + +Ellen quickly covered her mouth with her hand to repress a scream. + +But Robert was so intent in watching the juicy slice of beef that his +uncle was placing on his plate that he did not notice her. + +His aunt grew deadly pale, and was obliged to press her hands on her +heart. + +"You don't look very hungry," said his uncle hesitating about the +second slice which he held between the knife and fork. "I suspect +you've had lunch since breakfast." + +"Oh, no; uncle! I never eat between meals; that is," as he caught a +glance of astonishment from his cousin, "not very often. I haven't +eaten any thing to-day, 'deed I haven't. I'm right hungry." + +"Robert," said the gentleman, dropping his carvers, and looking sternly +at the smiling face before him, "you may leave your seat, and go to the +library. I cannot sit at the table with a boy so deceitful as you are." + +"What have I done?" Robert asked, rising with great reluctance from his +seat. "I meant to be real good so as to please aunt Josephine. Can't I +take my dinner in there?" + +"Go," ordered his uncle and without another word. "Don't you see, you +wicked boy, that you are killing your aunt?" + +The lady looked indeed as though she was on the point of fainting. But +as Robert walked slowly from the room, she with difficulty raised a +glass of water to her lips, which revived her. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +ROBERT'S CONFESSION. + +WITHOUT another word on the painful subject, Mr. Woodward began to talk +about some news he had read in his paper. By selecting the choicest +tit-bits, he coaxed his wife's failing appetite, to eat enough to +sustain her strength through the anxieties of the afternoon. + +"Let me manage him," she pleaded as they arose from the table. "I shall +not feel that I have discharged my duty to the poor child unless I talk +with him." + +"But, Josephine, he imposes on you. He is a shameless liar." + +"I had rather try to make him confess," she still urged. "I know where +to go for wisdom." + +"Have it your own way, Josephine," said her husband with some +irritation in his voice and manner, "and see where you and he will come +out." + +He put on his hat to go, then came back, and added tenderly. "It is for +your own sake I said that. I know you are better fitted to move the boy +than any one; that is, if he has any conscience left, which I doubt. +But Josephine, don't give the boy a particle of encouragement that he +can stay here. I wont have you so worried for a dozen like him." + +She put her hand in his to show that she understood and appreciated his +tenderness. Then turning, she walked slowly and deliberately toward the +library. + +Robert had thrown himself into the most comfortable chair, and was +sobbing aloud, but stopped short when his aunt entered. It was an +immense relief that his uncle had not come. + +"I'm awful hungry," he said springing to his feet. "Can't I have some +dinner?" + +"Sit down, Robert, I have something to say to you. I want you to +remember that God, who hates liars, is here. He can look into your +heart; and he hears every word you speak. Now tell me truly, have you +nothing to confess in regard to your conduct this morning?" + +"I don't know what you mean, aunty. I thought you'd say I was right +smart to get my lessons." + +"We will talk about the lessons by and by. There is some thing of far +more importance to settle first. Have you nothing to confess?" + +After a long, searching glance in her face, Robert answered. + +"No, I don't know what you mean." + +"Oh Robert, Robert!" she burst out in a passion of grief. "Are you so +hardened as this? I hoped and prayed that you would confess your sin. I +know that you spent your time not in study, but in drawing caricatures +on your slate. I know that you jumped from your window upon the shed, +and then to the ground. I know that you have been to-day and at other +times to my closet and stolen cake and raisins." + +Robert was startled now. He screamed, and then hid his face. + +"What have you to say for yourself?" she asked, still sobbing. + +He grew almost as pale as she had been, but for some time did not +attempt to reply. The tears began to stream down his face, and he +presently said in a faint voice and hesitating manner: + +"I'm right sorry, aunty, 'deed I am. I got awful tired studying; and +then I heard the music way off, and I opened the window, and I saw how +easy I could get out, and I forgot what you told me. And I went, but +only for a minute." + +"Don't make it worse by more lies," said his aunt with more severity +than he had ever heard in her voice before. "Your uncle saw you down in +town pelting a poor drunken soldier. What do you suppose your mother +will say when you are sent home to her in disgrace?" + +His voice changed now to real distress. + +"Oh, aunt Josephine?" he shrieked, "you wont send me home just for this +once. I'll study all day. I never will be naughty again. Do, do try me +once more. I can't go home. I can't! I can't!" + +"Hush, Robert, I can say nothing while you cry so. Hush at once and +tell me why you don't wish to go home. Tell me every thing. If I find +you have lied about it, or have not told all the truth, I shall send +you away at once." + +"Must I?" faltered Robert as if speaking to himself. + +Then he wiped his eyes and glanced in his aunt's face. There was an +expression on it which told him she meant what she said, so he resolved +to confess: + +"I was real naughty, before I came here, aunty. I learned it of the +soldiers, 'deed I did. I played cards with them, and I made some money +too, and—and once I went to a store, and there was nobody in it. The +man was down cellar and—and I—I took a few nuts, and a handful of figs." + +"Robert, Oh Robert!" groaned the lady, putting her handkerchief to her +face. + +"The man was awful mean. He came up softly when I didn't see him. I +was just going to look in his money drawer. I didn't mean to take any, +'deed I didn't, he put his great hand right on mine, and held me fast. +Then he shook me 'till I couldn't see. He hurt my stomach awfully. He +didn't let me go till he'd felt in my pockets, and taken every thing +out. He said he'd lock me up in jail, but he didn't. He got a constable +and sent him home with me." + +"Why was not this told me before?" asked the lady indignantly. + +"Mother forbid me to say any thing about it. She said she'd whip me +worse than she ever did if I told. Grandpa paid the man five dollars +for his trouble, and he promised to keep still. Mother kept scolding +and scolding, till I got real sick of hearing about it. Then you came +and brought me back with you." + +"Do you know, Robert, what has led you into all this sin?" + +"No, aunty." + +"It is idleness. If you had gone regularly to school, and entered into +your studies with diligence as you ought, I should never have heard +this disgraceful story. Do you know how many times idleness and sloth +are condemned in the Bible?" + +"I didn't know the Bible said any thing about it." + +She opened the sacred book and read,— + + "'Work with your own hands . . . that ye may walk honestly toward +them that are without, and that ye may have lack of nothing . . . We +commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat.'" + +"And here is another verse. + + "'If any man obey not in word' (that is to work and earn his own bread) +'note that man, and have no company with him, that he may be ashamed.'" + +"I know a hymn about being idle," said Robert softly. "Grandma made me +learn it: + + "'For Satan finds some mischief still, + For idle hands to do.'" + +"You see he has found a great deal of mischief for you," remarked the +lady sorrowfully. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ROBERT'S SPELLING. + +IN the afternoon, a lady named Bowles, a cousin of Mrs. Woodward's, +came with her little daughter to pass a few weeks. As she was also +a cousin of Robert's father, she expressed much interest in him. +It needed, however, a great deal of persuasion on the part of Mrs. +Woodward to induce her husband to consent to one more trial of the boy, +previously to his being sent home to his mother. + +"For my sake, Frederick," was the plea that at last prevailed, and then +it was only on conditions. Robert's lessons were to be recited to him, +and his aunt was to have nothing to do with urging him to study; and +that he was to be restricted in his diet, taking the food which his +uncle sent him from the table in his own chamber, and nothing more. + +Mr. Woodward had a long talk with his nephew before he went to bed, +and explained to him exactly where his idleness and disregard of God's +commands would lead him, to the gallows and eternal separation from God +in heaven. He then said: + +"Robert, for your aunt's sake, I have consented to give you one more +trial. If you resolve with God's help to overcome your besetting sins, +you may yet become a useful man, a blessing to your mother and all +connected with you. Beginning to-morrow, you will recite your lessons +to me; and I forbid you to ask any help from your aunt. + +"You will also eat in your room, the food which I shall send you from +the table. And I may as well tell you now that until you better deserve +the indulgence, you will have none of the luxuries of which you are so +fond." + +While his uncle was speaking, Robert cried softly, saying occasionally: + +"I mean to be good, uncle, 'deed I do;" or "I'm right sorry, uncle; I +never will be naughty again." + +But when the gentleman spoke of denying him the nice puddings, pies, +sweet meats and cake, he burst into loud, passionate remonstrance: + +"'Please,' please, uncle, don't. I will be good, 'deed I will. Only try +me, try me one day." + +"Pshaw," exclaimed the gentleman turning away in disgust. + +"What a dear, obliging little fellow Robert is," remarked Mrs. Bowles +the next day. "He must be a real treasure to his mother." + +"Have you seen her lately?" asked Mrs. Woodward quickly. + +"Doesn't Robert eat dinner with you, cousin Ellen?" inquired Marion +Bowles after they were seated at the table. + +"Robert is unfortunately under dieting orders at present," remarked his +uncle giving a plate of meat and vegetables to the table girl to carry +to the boy. + +After dinner, uncle and nephew met in the library for the lessons. + +"Very well," remarked the gentleman when every question with the +exception of two had been correctly answered. "You have convinced +me that it is not for want of ability you have failed so often. Get +the next lesson to-morrow, and do twenty examples in arithmetic. The +remainder of the afternoon, you may have for play or whatever you +choose. This evening, I wish you to take your slate and write upon it a +confession of what occurred yesterday. Consult the dictionary, and see +that every word is spelled correctly. Have it ready for me to-morrow +morning." + +[Illustration: ROBERT FISHING.] + +After a game of parlor croquet with his cousins, Robert went out +into the street, and did not return till tea was on the table. When +questioned by his aunt as to how he had employed himself, he answered +promptly: + +"I and another boy went fishing. And then we started off to Camp Scott +to see a regiment start off to the war. Uncle said I might do what I +pleased." + +"That is true," remarked the gentleman, "but I prefer you should not go +there again. There are too many rough fellows among them, and too much +profanity to make it a profitable place for you." + +"Mother lets me go at home," urged the boy. "I'm going to be a soldier +when I'm grown up." + +They all smiled at the manner in which he swelled himself out as though +the epaulets were already on his shoulders. + +After tea, he asked his aunt for a sheet of paper saying: + +"I'm going to write a letter to mother!" + +He had not written one since he left home, and his aunt was quite +pleased that he did it of his own accord. + +The next morning the slate containing his confession was presented for +his uncle's inspection. The writing filled one side and the gentleman +counted thirty different words spelled wrong. He dashed them, told +Robert to make a correct copy, and give it to him at noon. When +corrected, it read thus: + + "Yesterday, I 'gut' into an awful scrape. I 'gut' into aunty's closet +without 'hur' seeing me and hooked 'rasins' and 'cooky's' and apples. + + "She shut me up in my 'rume' to 'lern' my lessons; and I 'gut' awful +tired, and lay down on the bed, and 'et' the things. Then I opened the +window, and 'thort I'de' have some fun. I Jumped out and ran off, and +found a drunken man, and 'thru' dirt in his face. + + "When I 'cam' home to dinner I told awful lies about it. The hardest +part of all I 'thort' was to go without my dinner. I 'wunder' who 'et' +up what was on my plate. + + "ROBERT WEEKS." + +"Sixteen mistakes still," said Mr. Woodward severely. "I am very glad, +however, that you have not said in your confession that you were +penitent in view of your sin." + +"Why, uncle? Why are you so glad?" + +"Because it would be another lie added to the many you have already +told, and for which you must one day give an account to God. Now I will +hear your lessons. Before you go to play, you must look out in the +dictionary again the words I have marked. I shall be greatly displeased +if I find one word wrong next time." + +The lesson in grammar proved to be only half learned. The book was +given back to him, with the words: + +"If you wont work, you mustn't eat. Not a mouthful till that lesson is +committed." + +Robert had a very special reason for wishing to go out this afternoon. +He had engaged to meet a boy on business of great importance. Under +these circumstances, he took the book, and studied as he had never done +before. Then he ran to the dictionary, looked out the marked words, +altered them, and carried book and slate to his uncle with a smiling +face. + +"Let me see, have I time before dinner," asked the gentleman, laying +aside his newspaper with some reluctance. + +"Well, if you are sure, I'll try." + +"A perfect lesson this time. Now you are at liberty till evening, when +I wish you to copy the confession as neatly as possible." + +"That boy is capable enough," remarked Mr. Woodward to his wife, when +Robert had gone to his room to wait for his dinner. "I wish I could +feel more confidence in him." + +"Let us hope and pray he may become worthy of confidence," was her +gentle reply. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +ROBERT'S LETTER. + +ROBERT came in at dusk with flushed cheeks, and sat down with a book of +engravings, trying to avoid meeting his aunt's eye. + +Presently, he called Marion to the corner of the room, and began to +whisper to her. They grew quite merry over the conversation, and his +aunt, in passing, heard him say: "I wouldn't tell any body but you." + +When the mail came in the next morning, there was a letter to Mrs. +Woodward from her sister-in-law. In it, she made a request that Robert +be allowed to go and spend the day with a relative of her own in +another part of the city of Baltimore. + +"When would you like to go," inquired his aunt, wondering at his rely +evident excitement, "to-morrow?" + +"No, not to-morrow, next day, aunty. Can't I wear my best clothes?" + +"Certainly." + +There was no fault found with the lessons next day, neither with the +copy of the confession, which Mr. Woodward filed and put away in his +desk. Robert was again given his liberty for the afternoon, though +his aunt requested him to do an errand for her if he was going into +Baltimore street. + +He was out only an hour. When he came back, he went directly to his +room, stayed for some time, then ran down the back way with a bundle +under his arm. No one saw him but the cook, who thought nothing of it +at the time. When his aunt came from her chamber, he was in the library +with his cousins, laughing and chatting merrily. + +"Are you well, Robert?" she inquired a little later. "Come here and let +me feel your pulse. You look feverish." + +"I'm as well as can be, aunty, 'deed I am," he answered laughing, and +shaking back the long locks which fell over his forehead. + +"You talk just like our black Maria," said Marion laughing. "She's +always saying: ''deed, Miss, it is;' or ''deed, ma'am, I am.'" + +"I suppose I learned it from the black people," Robert answered, "and I +used to say, 'Where are you going at?' Grandpa laughed me out of that." + +As he had no writing this evening, he spent the time in games with his +cousins, though once he was called to the back door to see a boy, and +was absent half an hour. + +"They're plotting some mischief," said the cook to Rose the colored +table girl. "That is a rough boy. If he comes again, I'll tell missus." + +The next morning, almost as soon as it was light, Robert arose and +dressed himself in a new suit his aunt had given him. It was some time +before breakfast, and he grew impatient. Suddenly he ran out of the +back door, telling Rose he should be back in a few minutes. + +Mrs. Woodward was dressing herself in her chamber, when happening +to look from the window, she saw two boys with their heads together +talking with great earnestness. She did not at first recognize her +nephew; but presently, she called her husband to ask if it was he. + +Robert turned toward the house, saying, "I'll be on hand," while the +other boy walked slowly on. + +"I don't like the looks of Robert's companion," said Mr. Woodward. + +"Good bye, aunt Josephine; good bye, uncle; good bye, Nelly, and all," +exclaimed Robert making a parting bow at the door, "good bye, till I +see you again." + +"How funny for him to say so, when he's coming back to-night," +exclaimed Ellen laughing. + +Mrs. Woodward ran to the door and called after him. "Have you money for +the horse cars, Robert?" + +"I have—a—little," he answered blushing up to the roots of his hair. + +She opened her portemonnaie, gave him the required sum, then saying, +"Be a good boy, and don't be late home," shut the door. + +Toward evening it began to rain, and no one thought it strange that +he did not make his appearance. The next morning, though it was not +raining, the sun did not shine. Mrs. Woodward was somewhat surprised, +therefore, when at an early hour the bell rang, and Mrs. Weeks entered, +having taken the eight o'clock train from Washington. + +After receiving a cordial welcome, she sat down to a hearty breakfast +which her sister-in-law had ordered to be prepared. + +Mrs. Woodward had told her visitor where Robert was, but beyond this, +nothing concerning him. Now she retired to her room to reflect upon +the proper course to pursue. After half an hour, she left it still +undecided. + +"I should think Robert would be here soon," said Mrs. Weeks trying to +restrain her impatience. "How is he getting on with his lessons?" + +"Mr. Woodward has him in charge now. I heard him say yesterday that +your boy was not wanting in ability to learn as he has abundantly +proved." + +"I wouldn't have believed, Josephine," exclaimed her sister-in-law in a +sudden burst of emotion; "I wouldn't have believed that you could have +had the heart to treat a fatherless boy so—so harshly." + +"I am entirely at a loss to understand you, Annie. If Robert had been +our own son, we could not have treated him with more kindness, both his +uncle and myself." + +The lady grew very pale, but tried to speak with calmness, well knowing +Annie's violent temper. + +"I'll read you what he says about it," retorted the mother, producing +from her pocket a soiled sheet, and reading aloud. + + "DEAR MOTHER:—I sha'n't stay here much longer. They treat me awfully. +Aunt Josephine scolds and makes me study all day long. Uncle is the +worst though, he makes me eat in my room; and I don't have half enough; +and I wont bear it much longer. I know of a place where I can get lots +to eat, and have a splendid time. I want you to send a letter here +right off and tell aunty you want me to go to Mr. Bullock's, and spend +the day. Don't forget, 'cause she wont let me stir out of the house +without leave. Good bye. You needn't expect to hear from me again very +soon. + + "ROBERT WEEKS." + +"Now what do you make of that, Josephine?" + +I cannot deny that for a minute or two Mrs. Woodward was very angry, +both with Robert and his mother. Conscience told her that she had borne +with him as if he had been her own,—that she had entreated the throne +of mercy in his behalf,—and she knew that her husband had joined with +her in every effort for the child's good. But she was a true disciple +of His who has told us to return good for evil, and she presently +was able to conquer the enmity which rose in her breast. So when the +question was asked, "what do you make of that?" she answered calmly. + +"Robert will be here soon, we will see what he has to say." + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ROBERT, THE RUNAWAY. + +BUT hour after hour passed, and he did not come. The mother became very +restless, continually repeating the words, "I must go home. I left +every thing at sixes and sevens. Why don't the child come?" + +"Why don't you go to Mr. Bullock's, and see him?" suggested her sister. + +"No, I should only miss him; and they haven't treated me well. He wrote +me that I must be more strict with Robert, or I should rue it when it +was too late. I wonder what made the boy want to go there?" + +At noon, Mrs. Woodward sent a messenger to Mr. Bullock's to say that +Mrs. Weeks was in Baltimore for a few hours, and wished to see her son +immediately. Before the man returned, Mr. Woodward came home to dinner. + +"Will you read Robert's letter again, Anna?" her sister asked. + +"I'd rather not. I'm sorry I came, there's such a fuss." + +"I insist that my husband has a right to hear it." + +"Take it then," and Mrs. Weeks threw it across the room. + +Mr. Woodward was a man of quick, even violent temper, but fortunately +he had learned to govern it. Little trials often disturbed him; but for +serious troubles, he was ready. + +"What's this dirty scrawl?" he asked, picking up the sheet hastily. + +"Read it," said his wife. + +"I can't, it isn't readable." + +"I've heard it, and perhaps I can make it out." + +She commenced to pick out the words, which the bad spelling rendered +almost impossible, while her sister—in-law walked to the window and +stood looking into the street in an indifferent manner. + +"There's another side to this story," remarked the gentleman, when it +was finished. "Wait a minute and I'll read you a letter." + +He brought forward the confession and read it aloud. + +"Oh! Oh dear! What trouble that boy has given me!" exclaimed Annie, +beginning to cry. + +"I don't like the tone of his letter to you, Annie," said the +gentleman. "What is the place he refers to, with lots to eat? The boy +is a glutton; that's my idea of him. If he didn't have enough here, it +was his own fault, until the last two or three days." + +At this minute, the messenger returned with the startling announcement +that none of Mr. Bullock's family had seen Robert Weeks for a year. + +"It's my opinion he has run away," remarked Mr. Woodward. + +"Oh, where, where has he gone? My poor, dear boy!" + +Mrs. Weeks gave a wild shriek, and covering her face with her hands, +sank into a chair. + +"Mamma," cried Ellen, who had followed the messenger to the room, +"Marion knows something about it." + +"Yes, I do! I know, or I guess, where he is," said Marion, "though I +didn't think he was going so soon. He has gone to be a soldier." + +"Pshaw!" exclaimed Mr. Woodward. "No captain would take him, except for +a servant; and Robert isn't fond enough of work for that. Though he is +twelve years old, he is very short for his age." + +"He told me he was going," Marion insisted, her eyes sparkling, "but he +said I mustn't tell." + +"What else did he say? Tell me every word," screamed the half frantic +mother. + +"He said he'd got a place, and he was going to have a splendid uniform, +with gold epaulettes and a gold sword and—and he said he should dress +up some day and come back here and—and marry me." + +"Indeed!" exclaimed his uncle, trying to keep sober. "And did you +consent to share his honors?" + +"No," said the child, hanging her head. "I told him I wasn't big enough +for a good many years." + +"Oh, Robert, Robert!" groaned his mother. "It would have been better if +I'd let the man put you in prison." + +"There's no time to be wasted on foolish regrets," remarked the +gentleman. "We must have a policeman here and put him on the search, +and when we've found him, Annie, you must do just what you please with +him. We consider his visit to Baltimore ended." + +"I'm sorry I came! I'm always in trouble. I don't see why I should have +so much and other people none." + +"Annie, stop a minute. It's the busiest time of the year with me; +but I'm going to leave every thing, and search for your boy, on one +condition,—if you will go to your chamber and stay there. Mrs. Bowles +and the children can be with you if they please. But you must promise +not to see or speak to Josephine. She's had worry enough with Robert +for the last four months. Is it a bargain?" + +"It's very hard. I, his own mother, have got to bear it; and I don't +see, why I—" + +"Then you refuse. Very well, I'll go back to my store." + +"No, no! I will do any thing. I'll stay in the street, if you wish to +turn me out of the house." + +"Will you accept my terms? Then give me that letter." + +"I wont, I wont. This is to his mother. It has nothing to do with it." + +He still held out his hand, and she at last gave the letter up. + +"Now, Ellen, for the photograph he gave you." + +"He took it back, papa, and gave it to Marion." + +"Oh to be sure!" Notwithstanding the trouble they were in, the +gentleman's eyes twinkled as the little child took a picture from an +envelope in her pocket, and handed it to him. + +"The policeman has come!" shouted Ellen in great excitement. + +He was shown into the dining hall, where the whole family, with the +exception of the mistress, soon gathered. + +"Oh, I know that little chap very well!" said the officer, when he saw +the photograph. "I've seen him round here within a day or two, with one +of the worst boys in the city." + +"'Deed, Mister Woodward, dat's a fac," exclaimed cook shaking her +woolly head. "They was having dere heads togeder, and says I to myself, +Satan is a catching dem fellows, sure." + +Then she told of Robert stealing out the back door with his bundle. + +"Where's the boy? He'll know where Robert is," suggested Mr. Woodward. + +"I saw him within half an hour. I'll find him, and bring him here." + +"Did any regiment leave Baltimore yesterday?" + +"I didn't hear of any." + +"Then he is in hiding somewhere; and the boy will tell us." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ROBERT'S MOTHER. + +IT was scarcely fifteen minutes before the officer returned dragging +a short, stout, ill-dressed lad by the arm, when the following +examination took place. + +"Are you acquainted with Robert Weeks?" + +"Yes, I know him." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"Nobody can make me tell if I'm not a mind to. I haven't got nothing to +do with it." + +Mr. Woodward opened his pocket-book, and took out five dollars. + +"I'll give you that," he said, "if you'll tell us all we want to know." + +"Well," said the boy, his eyes cunningly watching the money. "I haven't +no objection, only I'm not a going to be driv. I seed him yesterday +morning afore breakfast." + +"What did he say?" + +"He came to my house to get some money. You see he'd got me to sell his +clothes for him, 'cause he wouldn't want 'em where he was going." + +"How much did you get for 'em?" + +"Two dollars, and my commission out, made him one sixty-two." + +"Where did he say he was going?" + +"I say, are you honest? I mean will you truly give me that V, if I tell +you all I know? Some gents try to trap fellows, and not pay up after +all." + +"Yes, I'm honest in saying, you shall have it, be your information +worth little or much, only tell all you know." The scene was rather +amusing to the gentleman, who had a keen sense of the ridiculous. + +"Well, then," answered the boy. "He's gone to the war. He got a big +chance under the Captain. One hundred dollars a month and living at the +officers' table where they're fed up like fighting cocks. He'd got the +promise of a uniform too, with shoulder straps on. That's his story; +but he's such a liar, I wouldn't give that," snapping his finger with a +contemptuous miff, "for all he says." + +"Did he tell you the name of the Captain who had made him such big +offers?" + +"No, he didn't, but I reckon Captain Pierce of the New York Seventh +don't know nothing about it, 'cause I went there, and asked one of the +soldiers that I'm acquainted with. + +"He laughed like to kill himself when I told him about it. There hadn't +been no such chap round there." + +"So you really don't know any thing more about him, except his story +that you don't believe? Did he give you any reason for going to the +war?" + +"He said he had to study too hard. It didn't agree with his +constitution, and then he hadn't enough to eat; but I knew better. He +allus had his pockets stuffed full of raisins and cake, and he'd keep +munching, munching hisself, without offering a feller so much as a +crumb." + +"There is your money, and if you can find out where Robert is, so that +his mother," motioning to where she stood, "can see him, I'll give you +as much more." + +"Is that his mother?" cried the boy staring at her. "Whew! Aren't I +sold!" + +He started off at once clasping the money tight and calling out,— + +"I'll find him, never fear. Whew! Ar'n't I rich?" + +By this time, Mrs. Weeks was almost beyond control. She shrieked and +wrung her hands, and cried out: + +"Oh my poor, dear fatherless boy! I never shall see you again. Oh, why +didn't I keep you at home! I'm the most miserable creature that ever +lived!" + +Mrs. Bowles at length persuaded her to go to her chamber, and finding +her shaking from head to foot with nervous excitement, persuaded her to +go to bed, and take an anodyne to prevent serious illness, promising to +bring her the first news of the runaway. + +But the evening and night passed without any news. Search had been made +throughout the city, but the boy could not be found. + +Just as the family assembled for breakfast, Mrs. Weeks came rushing in +from the street: + +"He isn't in the city. I've been to the hospitals and the Soldiers' +Home, and the Soldiers' Refuge, and I've searched the rooms myself. I +went early before they were up, and I know he isn't there. I'm afraid +he's killed himself." + +"Not the slightest danger of that, Annie," said Mr. Woodward. "You have +done your part, and need breakfast." + +"Where's Josephine?" + +"In bed with a severe attack of nervous headache. She must on no +account be disturbed." + +"I sha'n't be in her way, if you mean me. I'm going home in the first +train. I shall go to Lincoln myself, and ask him to send to all the +camps in the country, and find out where my poor, dear boy is." She +burst into tears, and sobbed till she shook all over. + +"You had better leave the business with me, Annie. I'll do all I +can. It will involve considerable expense. As the boy ran away from +my house, I mean to find him if I can. Go home if you must, and keep +quiet." + +"Robert isn't your boy, or you wouldn't talk so cruelly. How can I keep +quiet when he may be dying of starvation?" + +"A most painful situation for him," remarked the gentleman, biting his +lips to keep from smiling; "but I don't apprehend that he is in danger." + +Mrs. Weeks left without one word of regret for the trouble she and her +son had caused, or a word of thanks for the offered kindness. + +Soon after, a hack drove to the door, and Mrs. Bowles, accompanied by +a gentleman friend, set out on an exploring tour to the various camps +surrounding the city. Mr. Woodward's business required his presence +for a few hours, after which he intended to run down to Washington, if +nothing had previously been ascertained. + +Arriving first at Camp Lincoln, a call was made for the officer of +the day. When he appeared, Mrs. Bowles, a tall lady of very dignified +appearance, walked with him through the entire camp to the Colonel's +tent. Here she related her story, and inquired whether such a boy had +been seen there. + +The officer treated her with great respect,—gave her a seat and sent +round the camp to inquire whether a boy of twelve years old was hidden +in the tents. + +"Occasionally, our men decoy a child to join them," remarked the +Colonel, "especially if he is smart and witty. It relieves the tedium +of camp-life to talk with such a child; but I must acknowledge it's +a poor school for the youth. I had rather a son of mine were in his +coffin." + +[Illustration: ROBERT'S CONFESSION.] + + + +CHAPTER X. + +ROBERT'S DEATH. + +ALL inquiries both at Camp Lincoln, and all other camps proving +ineffectual, Mrs. Bowles and her companion returned to Saratoga street +without learning any thing that bore on the loss of the boy, except +that a small detachment of soldiers had on the fourteenth, the very day +Robert left, been sent forward to Camp Chase in Ohio. + +On the strength of this, Mr. Woodward went at once to Washington and +requested the proper officer to send in the name of his mother a +requisition for the missing boy. + +A fortnight of painful suspense followed. All that could be done had +been done, but in vain. At last, the penny post brought a dingy looking +letter, written on a leaf torn from a book. It was from Robert, and +this time the ill spelled, ill written scrawl was received with joy. It +was addressed to Marion, and begun with the familiar doggerel: + + "The roses are red. The violets are blue, + The lilies are sweet—And so are you." + +Then he went on. + + "I like being a solgher. I have a tiptop time. The Kunnel is furst, +and I am next to him. I ware an elegant uniform all covered with gold. +I luv you the same as ever." + +After this, the tone of the letter changed entirely. Robert added: + + "I'm homesic, I wish I hadn't run awa. Good bye. I think I shall die +and never see you agen. Robert Weeks. Tell aunt Josephine I'm sorry." + +The letter was dated Camp Chase, Ohio. An hour after it was received, +Mr. Woodward was on his way to the cars intending to go instantly to +Ohio for the boy, when on reaching the depot, he heard news which +caused his return home. + +Robert had come, and was at that moment at his uncle's house. + +Poor Robert! How changed he was. Unwashed, uncombed, his pretty suit +soiled and worn threadbare, his person so filthy that it was almost +impossible to breathe in the room with him, thin and worn and aged, as +years would not have aged him, his breath coming with a gasp, this was +poor Robert, next "to the Kunnel in rank." + +Marion rushed in to welcome him, gazed a minute at his bent form and +burst out crying. + +"Don't," Robert said gasping. "Are you sorry for me? I'm going to die. +I'm glad you care for me." + +"Oh, I'm as sorry as I can be! But how you do look! And how your +clothes smell. I can't bear it." And off she ran, holding her +handkerchief to her nose. + +"Good bye, Marion, I never shall see you again." Great tears fell down +poor Robert's cheeks as he looked after her, his first love. + +Mrs. Woodward rose from her sick bed to speak to the boy. She wept +when she saw his pitiable condition, and only the recollection of her +promise to his mother that if found, he should return to Georgetown at +once, prevented her from putting him into a warm bath. She gave him +food and medicine, brushed his hair, though almost fainting in the foul +air, buttoned on a clean collar, brought his old overcoat and insisted +he should wear it. By the time he was ready, the carriage came to take +him to the cars. + +"I'm sorry, aunty, 'deed I am," was all he said at parting; but there +were tears in his eyes to prove his sincerity. Poor Robert! + +Mr. Woodward found a seat which the boy could have by himself and he +slept most of the way. When they reached Washington, the gentleman +hired a carriage to take him to Georgetown, as he wished to return to +Washington in time for the nine o'clock train back. During the ride, he +talked kindly, but faithfully to Robert, urging him to ask forgiveness +of his father's God. + +"I am sorry, uncle, 'deed I am," gasped the boy, speaking and breathing +with great difficulty. "I have been awful bad, worse than anybody; but +God knows; I'm going to die, and I'm afraid he wont forgive me." + +"He has promised, Robert,— + + "'Him that cometh to me I will in nowise cast out.' + +"Go to him in earnest. Tell Him all, and plead for help in Christ's +name." + +"I began to pray when I was sick in camp, but soldiers are wicked and +they laughed. I was sorry then that I ran away; and I wanted to see +aunt Josephine so bad. If I hadn't been idle, I never should have been +so wicked." + +I have no time to tell of the meeting between mother and son. He had +little strength to bear the excitement, and turned his head wearily +from her. + +When his uncle approached the bed to bid him good bye, he sobbed +piteously. + +"Will God forgive me," he kept asking. "Will He, when I'm so wicked? I +am sorry, 'deed I am." + +He was never dressed but once after his return, and then with many +sighs, he confessed to his mother his many acts of disobedience. + +Two days later, Robert breathed his last. He died gasping a prayer for +Christ's sake; and his mother wrote that he continually repeated the +words, "I'm so sorry, 'deed I am." + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78964 *** |