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Page 23
"For e'en her failings leaned to virtue's side."
Just so it was with Peter himself. No storm, or tempest, or snow-bank,
could detain him--that is, not longer than a day or two--in his weekly
round. But he loved the theory of making money as much as his mare loved
botany; and he was a practical student, too, and the road which he traveled
afforded a good many opportunities both for extending his knowledge of that
science and of practically applying his principles. So, between the two,
our newspaper sometimes got thoroughly aired before it came to the house.
But Peter was punctual--I insist upon it--for he always came some time or
another.
When the paper did come, we literally devoured its contents. With us it was
an oracle. If the "Courier" affirmed or denied a thing, that was enough for
us. It was an end to all debate. How confiding children are! He who has
read "Robinson Crusoe" when a boy, finds it almost impossible to regard it
a fable when he is a man. The newspaper, that makes its weekly visit to the
family circle in the country, leaves the marks of its influence upon the
mind and the morals of the child. It forms his tastes and controls his
character. How careful, then, should parents be, in the selection of
periodicals to be the companions of their children.
* * * * *
STORY FOURTH.
THE CIDER PLOT.
When I was an apprentice, some years ago, I lived--no matter where, and
served--no matter whom. There were three apprentices besides myself; and it
seems necessary to say, that, at the time when the incident happened which
I am about to relate, we had neither of us completed that branch of
husbandry called the sowing of wild oats; and as the soil was very
favorable for the development of that species of grain, we were perhaps a
little too industriously engaged in its cultivation. We were in great haste
to have the oats all sowed in good season.
One day our employer bought a cast of cider--Newark cider, I believe they
called it--and the greater portion of it was nicely bottled, and placed in
a dark corner of the cellar, to be used, not for making vinegar, or mince
pies, but for a very different purpose--which may be surmised by such as
remember that in those days the juice of the apple had a much better
reputation than it has now. We were allowed our share of the beverage. But
we were not satisfied. We resolved ourselves into a sort of committee of
the whole, one afternoon; and after a long and somewhat spirited debate,
came to the unanimous conclusion that, in the course of human events, it
became necessary to employ the most effective measures to procure
additional supplies from the cellar. Now it so happened, that these
measures were not of the most peaceable and honorable kind. Such was their
nature, in fact, that if we had been discovered in the act of resorting to
them, it would no doubt have been deemed necessary, in the general course
of human events, that we should be soundly whipped.
The plan was to seize a bottle once in a while, something after the manner
of privateers; though I believe the trade of privateering is regarded as
piracy, now-a-days. How times are changed! We were to go on this expedition
in rotation, from the oldest downward. We commenced, and two of us had
performed the feat. It came George Reese's turn next. You didn't know
George, I suppose. But I wish you had known him. I think you could
appreciate the story better, if you knew him as well as I did. Well, George
went down cellar, with his pitcher in his hand, thirsting for cider and
glory. You must know that there was a flight of stairs that led directly to
the cellar from the room we occupied. You should know, too, that we went
down without a light, and felt our way in the dark. George had not been
below two minutes, when we heard a report from the cellar very like the
discharge of a pistol. It was loud enough to alarm the whole house. We were
frightened. We had reason to be. Who knows, thought we, but they have set a
spring-gun for us, and poor George is badly wounded? We waited in silence,
and with not a little anxiety, for our hero to come up.
He came at last, and a sorry looking fellow he was. He was covered from
head to foot with yeast! The cook had placed her bottle of emptyings,
tightly corked, in the village of cider bottles; and the truth flashed upon
us at once, that George had made a mistake, and captured the wrong bottle;
and the most of its contents, being a little angry at the time, were
discharged into his face. But this was not all. George thought he had
encountered a cider bottle, after all, for he could see nothing in the
cellar, and he had poured what little remained of his yeast into the
pitcher, and brought it up with him. When he made his appearance, there was
such a noisy trio of laughter as that old kitchen had seldom heard before.
This brought in the cook, and she laughed as loudly as the rest of us.
Then, to crown all, the lady of the house, hearing the noise, came to see
what we were all about; and she laughed the loudest of any body. I shall
never forget the image of George Reese, as he entered that room. It gives
me a pain in the side now, only to think of it.
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