WHAT SEVEN CAMPBELLS CAN DO.
PITE of obstacles, the labours of the 'Seven Campbells,' as Willie grandly called them, did effect a great improvement in the desert, and the seventh certainly took his share, so far as such a very small man could; for he pulled up a great many weeds with his little fat hands, and brushed down the gravel on the walks with a tooth-brush! The Doctor, seeing his boys were in earnest, lent them his help whenever he could spare time, sent for the remainder of the gravel for them, showed them how to lay it, trimmed the borders, sowed some potatoes, and presented them with four apple-trees, which he planted at four corners of the ground, and called 'Gozmaringa, Geroldinga, Crevedella, and Spirauca,' after the names of some apple-trees that belonged to King Charlemagne. But, spite of his assistance, there was a great deal requiring the boys' exertions; and they worked like Trojans, devoting nearly all their play-hours and pocket-money to this object, and finding in it both interest and amusement. Johnnie had learnt one or two lessons from this undertaking: first, that in working for a good object, it is not only necessary to have a right intention at starting, but that constant pains and perseverance are requisite,—as in the matter of Cæsar; secondly, that a privilege earned is sweeter than one bestowed as a favour,—as in the spending of the half-crown, which his own toil had procured; thirdly, that even for a good object we must not use bad or doubtful means,—as in the matter of the gravel; and fourthly, that hard work—digging, or what not—from a right motive, becomes a much greater pleasure than any that can be procured by idleness. And he had found true, too, what his mother had said, that if he would pursue one thing steadily, and make himself do it in spite of disinclination, the determination and energy thus acquired would help him in everything else.
Midsummer came, and by that time the desert was a desert no longer: it was a neat, trim-looking piece of ground with smooth walks, some small but promising crops, and a flower-border gay with geraniums, nasturtiums, sweet-peas, nemophila, and convolvulus. The mother was rapidly regaining strength, and had been down-stairs several times, but only into the drawing-room, which did not look towards the desert: from the school-room and dining-room, which had a full view of it, she had been jealously excluded. It is to be feared that this precaution had caused her a little anxiety, and that she had a secret vision of broken slates, torn pinafores, and blotted lesson-books, which she imagined were being concealed from her in these forbidden chambers till she was supposed to be strong enough to bear the sight of such calamities. But the day was now come when her fears were to be dispersed, and a far different and much pleasanter surprise was to dawn upon her.
She was to take her first walk, leaning on her husband's arm; and he had been privately instructed by his sons to bring her in the direction of the quondam desert. They had erected a triumphal arch over the little entrance-gate, formed of bent osiers twined with flowers, and surmounted with paper flags, on which were inscribed, in large coloured letters, such mottoes as the Scotch 'Ye're gey welcome,' and the Irish 'Cead mile failte.' Archie and Georgie, gaily bedizened, and with wands in their hands, were stationed at each side of the gate to welcome her, and were to marshal her up the centre walk, at the top of which her other sons were to receive her, and conduct her to a seat which had been prepared for her to rest upon. Such was the programme; but how could English boys adhere to anything so formal? Directly Archie announced that 'mamma was coming' Georgie pushed the gate open, and toddled to meet her, followed by all the rest of the boys, leaping, shouting, and laughing, forgetting all preconcerted speeches, and much too happy to be even coherent.
'Papa' was afraid such noisy glee would be too much for the invalid, but 'mamma' would have her way for once, and indulge the boys to the top of their bent; so they led the way into the desert, all laughing and talking at the same time, till Willie bethought himself that the noise and excitement would really be too much for his mother, and first loudly exhorted his brothers to be quiet, and then—which was much better—became quiet himself, and thus set an example of considerateness.
Mrs. Campbell's surprise and delight were great enough to satisfy her sons, which is saying a good deal. She would not sit down till she had made the tour of the garden (it would be an insult to say 'desert' any longer); and she accepted a sprig of Johnnie's geranium, and a handful of Duncan's sweet-peas; tasted one of Archie's nasturtium flowers when assured by him that it was 'so nice;' was duly edified by the sight of the remains of the tooth-brush, worn to a stump by Georgie's sedulous and novel use of it; allowed Honorius to pull up a potato root, that she might see how healthy and free from disease it was; submitted patiently to have her hair ornamented with some of Seymour's convolvuluses; and only declined to taste the one hard green apple born by Geroldinga (Gozmaringa, Crevedella, and Spirauca were as yet fruitless), from a fear that the tender, careful guardian at her side would be irrecoverably shocked at such imprudence. She sat down at last on the chair of state that had been prepared for her, and owned herself a little tired; but her interest and amusement never flagged, and she listened with eager pleasure to the history of her sons' exertions.
'They've all worked like horses,—even Georgie, I do believe,' said Dr. Campbell, smiling.
'And Johnnie too!' said the mother delightedly.
'Yes, Johnnie has done his work manfully, and has found out that industry is pleasure, after all. Haven't you, my boy?' and the father laid his hand on his son's shoulder with a proud, pleased look, such as Lackland had but seldom called up before.
The bright eyes, which never looked down in fear, looked down now. Jean-sans-terre was not so unsensitive to praise as he was to blame.
'Ah, papa,' said Willie, 'you laughed at us when we began to dig up the desert, but now you see seven Campbells can do more than you thought they could.'
'And now, when we want anything done, we may look to our seven Campbells for it, said Mrs. Campbell gaily. 'Honorius, you were the directing genius, were you not?'
'Yes, I believe I planned how it was to be, but it was Willie who first thought of it, and proposed that we should do it to please you. I am so glad you are satisfied with our work, mother.'
'Satisfied! I am delighted, my Emperor. But now that the desert is put in order, who is going to keep it so? Are we to look to our seven sons for that?'
'Yes, oh yes!' was chorused by six of the seven voices. Johnnie alone was silent; but his dimples were all in play, and he had never looked more roguish.
'Sans-terre means to steal a march on us, and do more than any of us, I do believe, though he won't make promises,' said Honorius.
'Sans-terre shall be sans-terre no longer,' said Dr. Campbell; 'he has earned back a right to his own plot of flower-garden, and may enter into possession again to-night, if he pleases.'
But Lackland shrugged his shoulders, and declined the burden of proprietorship.
'I don't care to have any garden of my own, thank you, papa,' he answered; 'I'm happier without it than with it, and there's plenty of work for me here. I never want to have anything belonging to me except a sword.'
'And some clothes, Johnnie,' said Seymour, who was very matter-of-fact.
The boys laughed, and Johnnie replied, 'Oh, certainly, Seymour. I'm not prepared to adopt the full dress of a Mexican general even—a cocked hat and a pair of spurs; I must have a full suit of uniform, at any rate. But I mean to say I'll never be bothered with a house or a wife, or anything like that.'
'Ah, Johnnie,' said his father, 'I may say to you in the words of the old song,
"Bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,
Ye dinna ken what'll betide ye yet."
For aught you know,
"A canty wee house and a cosie wee fire,
And a bonnie wee bodie to praise and admire,"
may be your destiny; and perhaps some day you will appreciate those treasures as much as I do now.'
Johnnie looked incredulous. But the attention of all was diverted by the sudden appearance of a sun-burnt, grinning face over the paling which separated the kitchen garden (no longer desert) from the road.
'That's Bob Middleton, I declare!' said Honorius. 'Do you know, papa, Farmer Jennings has taken him to work in his hay-field, and says if he does well he may perhaps keep him as a farm-labourer?'
'And Mrs. Middleton told Mrs. Western that Bob was beginning to hold up his head a bit, and that if he had only a decent jacket she really thought he would go to church with her on Sundays,' said Willie.
'Honorius has an old jacket that is only fit for giving away,' said Mrs. Campbell; 'don't you think we might make poor Bob a present of it, dear Archibald?'
'Oh do, papa,' cried the boys unanimously.
Dr. Campbell had no objection; so Honorius ran into the house to fetch the jacket, observing, 'I shall tell him to take himself off when I've given it him; it's not manners to stare over at us in this way.' When he returned, however, from his colloquy with the grinning Bob, he explained, 'He doesn't mean to be rude, he says, but he's so pleased that we've made the desert so trim, and that "madam," as he calls mamma, is able to come out and see it. He's immensely pleased with the jacket, but he doesn't want to go away till he's spoken to Johnnie and Willie.'
Willie ran off at once. Johnnie turned to go with equal haste, then paused and glanced at his father: the forgiven fault had not been forgotten.
'Yes, go, my man,' said Dr. Campbell; 'and you may bring Bob in if you like, just to take a turn round the garden; but don't encourage him to stay.'
'Oh, and mayn't we give him Geroldinga's apple?' said Duncan; but the Doctor answered, laughing, 'that that would be anything but a benevolent present, and that Geroldinga's solitary fruit had better be allowed to ripen.'
'I shan't take it,' said Archie, thus innocently revealing, what was indeed the case, that he felt some temptation to do so.
'Nor baby won't,' said Georgie manfully.
'No, my little boys will not touch what is not their own,' said the mother, glancing down tenderly at the two small faces; 'and some summer, perhaps, we may find Gozmaringa and the rest covered with apples, and then what apple dumplings we shall have!'
Archie's broad smile told that he relished the idea. Georgie, to whom apple dumplings were as yet an unknown delicacy, looked grave and asked, 'Is appy dumpions nice?'
'Very,' said the laughing mamma. 'But see, here is Bob coming this way. Well, Bob, what do you think of my sons' work?'
'It's fust-rate,' said Bob, pulling his rough forelock. 'I hopes you finds yourself better, mum.'
'Much better, thank you, and very glad to be out again. I have been watching the hay-making in Farmer Jennings' field from my window; I was very glad to see you at work there, Bob.'
Bob made an indescribable contortion of his figure, charitably supposed to be intended for a bow, and passed on.
'Madam looks palish,' he observed to Johnnie, who was escorting him about; 'I doubt she's not very hearty yet.'
'No, it'll be some time before she's quite strong. Has she ever spoken to you before, Bob?'
'Oh my! yes. Why, she brought me some doctor's stuff and some sweet cold drink when I was so bad with fever two winters ago, and she took and spoke up to me last autumn when I was throwin' stones at parson's chickens. Besides, I've seen her in the school when I was a little chap.' He was evidently proud of his acquaintance with so sweet-spoken and kind a lady, and when he left the garden with the jacket under his arm, remarked, 'I'll make a bigger haycock than e'er a one else in the field right under madam's window, that'll pleasure her, maybe, for it smells fust-rate, it does.'
He fulfilled his intention, and pleased Farmer Jennings so much by his cheerful industry in the hay-field, that he took him on trial for a month as farm-lad, and finding him tolerably satisfactory in that capacity, gave him permanent employment. His impudence was not at once conquered, and brought him into some trouble; but when he found that the farmer and his men would not put up with it as his mother had, he learned to put a check on it, and others besides the seven Campbells encouraged him in taking a turn for the better.
Johnnie still remained 'sans terre,' by his own desire, but worked away in his father's garden as he never had done in the part that was called his own. He began to get on better at school too; and Willie joined him there after the summer vacation, and helped to keep him steady by his example and admonitions. For Willie had certainly a little taste for lecturing; and Lackland, the harum-scarum and good-humoured, was just the boy both to provoke it and to bear it: if he was a Du Guesclin in bravery, he was not in quarrelsomeness, and nothing that Willie could say ever made him angry. The mother, too, became well and strong again, able once more to exercise her sweet influence through all the household; and between the father's firmness and the mother's gentleness, those seven boys were well and wisely trained.
Many years have passed since then, and the seven Campbells are no longer boys Honorius has been taken into partnership with his father, and is known by the whole country-side as 'the young doctor;' Johnnie is serving the Queen in a line regiment in India; and Willie has lately been ordained, and is working hard as a curate in a large manufacturing town. So three of the seven have had their wish. But Seymour has been taken by one of his uncles, a rich banker, into his counting-house; Duncan is not gone to sea,—he has just passed a competitive examination for the Indian Civil Service; as for Archie, he is still only a schoolboy, and he and Honorius live at home, while the others are scattered far and wide.
But nowhere on earth could you find all those seven Campbells now, and there has never been any need to decide on a profession for Georgie: the youngest, the darling, the flower of the flock, has been called to rest the first. Wide tracts of sea and land lie between the mother and her darling Johnnie, and a wider distance still severs her from her little George, yet to her the seven are but as one band, united for ever by a common faith and mutual love. And so much is this the feeling of them all, that if you should chance to meet one of those Campbells, and to ask of their number, I think, like the child in the ballad, he would answer, 'We are Seven.'
