SATURDAY AFTERNOON.
The bright summer-time had come again, when the sweet-scented blossoms beautified the gardens, and the forming fruits gave promise of a rich golden harvest. The school-bell sent out its merry call to the laughing children, and scores of them daily went up to the temple of knowledge for improvement. Saturday afternoon was a season of recreation, when the pupils, released from school, engaged in various sports, or performed some light labor for their parents.
On a certain Saturday afternoon, Nat, Charlie, Frank, and one or two other boys, arranged for a "good time" at the house of one of the number. They were all there promptly at the appointed time, together with Frank's little dog Trip—a genuine favorite with all the boys who had any regard for dog-brightness and amiability.
"Look here, Frank, has Trip forgot how to play hy-spy?" asked Charlie.
"No; he will play it about as well as you can. Let us try it."
"You can't learn him to touch the goal, can you?" inquired another boy.
"No," replied Frank; "but I expect he will before he takes his degree. He is nothing but a Freshman now."
"Did he ever petition you for shorter lessons?" asked Nat.
Charlie and Frank laughed; for they thought of Sam Drake's petition at the winter school.
"Never," answered Frank; "but he has asked me for longer ones a great many times. He never gets enough at any sport. He will play 'hide and seek' or 'ball' as long as you will want to have him, and then wag his tail for more."
Trip sat by looking wistfully up into his little master's face as if he perfectly understood the praise that was lavished upon him, and was patiently waiting to give an exhibition of his skill in athletic games.
"Let us try his skill," said Charlie. "Come, Frank, give him his post."
"Here, Trip," said Frank, "come here; nice fellow,—does want to play 'hide and seek;' so he shall;" and he patted him on his head, for which kindness Trip voted him thanks as well as he could.
"Now, boys, we'll all run and hide, and Trip will find us in short metre."
Off they started, some round the barn and house, and some over the wall, while Trip stood wagging his tail, in the spot assigned him. At length a loud shrill "whoop," "whoop," "whoop," one after another, saluted Trip's ears, and off he ran to find them. Bounding over the wall, he came right upon Charlie, who laughed heartily at the result, while Trip extended his researches round the barn, where he discovered Nat under a pile of boards, and one or two of the other boys. When they all returned to the goal, Trip perceived that his master was not found, and off he bounded a second time.
"Sure enough," exclaimed Charlie, "he knows that Frank is not here, and he has gone to find him. Isn't he a knowing dog?"
"I don't believe he will find him," said Nat, "for he is up on a beam in the shed."
Nat had scarcely uttered these words, before a shout from Frank and a bark from Trip announced that the former was discovered.
"There," said Frank, as he came up to the goal with Trip skipping and jumping at his side, "wasn't that well done? I told you he would find you, and none of us could do it quicker."
"Let us try it again," said one of the boys, "I guess I'll puzzle him this time."
Again they all sought hiding-places, while Trip waited at the goal for the well-known signal—"whoop;" "whoop;" "whoop." None of the boys knew the meaning of this better than he, although he was only a dog.
Soon the signal was given, and away went Trip in high glee. Over the wall—around the barn—into the shed—back of the house—behind the woodpile—under the boards—here and there—he ran until every boy was found. Again and again the experiment was tried, and Trip won fresh laurels every time.
"You've torn your pants, Nat," said Frank.
"I know it. I did it getting over the fence. I haven't done such a thing before, I don't know when."
While exhausting "hy-spy" of its fun, Sylvester Jones came along with a bit of news.
"Going to court, Nat?" he inquired.
"Going where?" replied Nat, not understanding him.
"To court! They have taken up Harry Gould and Tom Ryder, and the court is coming off at the hall."
"What have they taken Harry and Tom for?" asked Nat, becoming deeply interested in the event.
"I don't know exactly; but it is something about disturbing the exhibition."
The facts in the case were these. There was an exhibition in the hall owned by the manufacturing company, and these two boys climbed up on the piazza and looked into the window, thereby disturbing the exercises. An action was brought against them, and they were to be tried before a justice of the town.
"It is too bad," replied Nat, "to take up such little boys for that—they didn't know any better. What will be done with them, do you expect?"
"Perhaps they will send them to jail. Father says it is a serious matter to disturb a meeting of any kind."
"Yes," replied Nat, "it is a mean act in anybody, but I don't believe that Harry and Tom understood it. It will be too bad to send them to prison for that. Perhaps they would never do such a thing again."
"Come," added Sylvester, "let us go to the trial and see. They have begun before this time."
Nat's sympathies were intensely wrought upon by these tidings; for Harry and Tom were among his school-fellows. The idea of trying such little boys in a court of justice excited him very much. He forgot all about the games projected and the rent in his pantaloons, and seizing his cap, he said to Frank,
"Will you go?"
"Yes, I've played about enough," answered Frank. "I would like to go to a court."
The boys hurried away to the hall; and they found that the court had opened, and that the room was well filled with people. Nat edged his way along through the crowd until he found himself directly in front of the table where the justice sat. Sure enough, there the two young prisoners were, Harry and Tom, looking as if they were half frightened out of their wits. How Nat pitied them! It seemed strange to him that men could deal thus with boys so small. He listened to the examination, of witnesses with great emotion, and watched Harry and Tom so closely that he could read their very thoughts. He knew just how badly they felt, and that if they could get clear this time, they never would be caught in such wrong-doing again.
"Were you present at the exhibition?" inquired the justice of one of the witnesses.
"I was," he answered.
"Did the prisoners disturb the exercise?"
"They did."
"How do you know that Harry and Tom were the boys?"
"Because I went out to send them away, and found them on the piazza."
"Did you speak to them, and call them by name, so that you could not be mistaken?"
"I did, and they responded to their names."
"Then you can swear that these two boys, the prisoners, disturbed the meeting?"
"Yes, I am positive of it."
Two or three other witnesses were examined, when the justice said,
"It appears to be a clear case, boys, that you are guilty of the charges alleged against you. You are very young to begin to disturb the public peace. Even if it was nothing but thoughtlessness, boys are getting to be so rude, that it is high time some check was put upon their mischief. Now, boys, have you any thing to say for yourselves?"
Harry and Tom were more frightened than ever, and Nat could see them struggle to keep from crying outright.
"Have you any one to speak for you?" asked the justice.
Nat could withstand it no longer, and he stepped forward, with his cap in his hand, his bright eyes beaming with sympathy for the prisoners, and said,
"Please, sir, I will speak for them, if you are willing," and without waiting for the justice to reply, he proceeded:
"Harry and Tom would never do the like again. They knew it was wrong for them to disturb the exhibition, but they didn't think. They will think next time. I know they feel sorry now for what they have done, and will try to be good boys hereafter. Can you not try them, if they will promise? This is the first time they have done so, and they will promise, I know they will (turning to the boys), won't you, Tom?"
The boys both nodded assent, and the justice looked pleased, astonished, and not a little puzzled. It was really a scene for the artist, Nat standing before the court with cap in hand, and his pantaloons torn in the play of the afternoon, his heart so moved with pity for the juvenile offenders that he almost forgot where he was, making a touching plea for the boys, as if their destiny depended upon his own exertions. The hall was so still that the fall of a pin might be heard while Nat was pleading the case. Everybody was taken by surprise. They could hardly believe their senses.
"Their brother," answered one man, in reply to the inquiry, "Who is that lad?" He did not know himself, but he thought that possibly a brother might plead thus for them.
The justice was not long in deciding the case, after such a plea. He simply reprimanded the two boys, gave them some wholesome counsel, and discharged them, much to the gratification of Nat, and many others.
"That was the youngest lawyer I ever heard plead a case," said Mr. Payson, after the court adjourned.
"The most impudent one, I think," replied Mr. Sayles, to whom the remark was addressed. "If I had been in the place of the justice, I would have kicked him out of the hall. Little upstart! to come in there, and presume to speak in behalf of two reckless boys!"
"You misjudge the boy entirely, Mr. Sayles. There is nothing of the 'upstart' about Nat. He is a good boy, a good scholar, and very amiable indeed. The neighbors will all tell you so. It was his sincere pity for the boys that led him to plead for them. He did not mean to conceal their guilt, but he thought, as I do, that such small boys better be reproved and tried again, before they suffer the penalty of the law."
"I hope it is so," replied Mr. S.
"I know it is so," continued Mr. P. "Nat is very kind and sympathizing, and he cannot endure to see a dog abused. It might seem bold and unmannerly for him to address the court as he did, but Nat is not such a boy. He is very mannerly for one of his age, and nothing but his deep pity for Harry and Tom induced him to speak. The act has elevated him considerably in my estimation, though I thought well of him before."
Mr. Payson took the right view of the matter. In addition to his sympathy for his school-fellows, Nat felt that it was hardly right to take those little boys before a court for the offence charged, since they were not vagrants, and were not known as bad boys. If Ben and Sam Drake had been there instead of Harry and Tom, he would not have volunteered a plea to save them from the clutches of the law. But he felt that it was dealing too severely with them, and this emboldened him, so that when he witnessed the distress of the boys, and saw them try to conceal their emotions, his heart overflowed with pity for them, and forced him to speak.
If we knew nothing more of Nat, this single act would lead us to anticipate that, in later life, he would espouse the cause of the oppressed in every land, and lift his voice and use his pen in defence of human rights. At the age of ten or twelve years, John Howard, the philanthropist, was not distinguished above the mass of boys around him, except for the kindness of his heart, and boyish deeds of benevolence. It was so with Wilberforce, whose efforts in the cause of British emancipation gave him a world-wide fame. Every form of suffering, misfortune, or injustice, touched his young heart, and called forth some expression of tender interest. Carefully he would lay off his shoes at the door of a sick chamber, and often divide a small coin, received as a present, between his own wants and some poor child or man he chanced to meet. And Buxton, whose self-sacrificing spirit in behalf of suffering humanity is everywhere known, was early observed by his mother to sympathize with the down-trodden and unfortunate, and she sought to nurture and develop this feeling as a hopeful element of character. When his fame was at its zenith, he wrote to his mother, "I constantly feel, especially in action and exertion for others, the effects of principles early implanted by you in my mind."