CHAPTER XII
The Story of Old Maddox.
The next morning at breakfast, the two boys entertained their grandpapa and grandmamma with a full account of what they had seen on the preceding day; and both dwelt with particular pleasure on the beauty of the pheasants.
“Did you take notice of Harry Maddox, the old man who has the care of them?” inquired Mr. Mansfield.
The children replied, that he was for some time talking with Mr. Ashley; but that he took no notice of them, and that they had observed nothing particular about him.
“That, man,” said Mr. Mansfield, “shabby and mean as he now appears, was once in possession of considerable property. It was his idleness alone that reduced him to poverty.”
“How so, grandpapa?” inquired Charles. “Pray tell us about him.”
“I was going to do so,” returned Mr. Mansfield, “in the hope that the history of his misfortunes might be a lesson to you, not to fall into the fault that has occasioned his ruin.
“Maddox’s father rented a capital farm, a few miles from this village. Harry was a school-fellow of mine, so that in his childhood I saw a great deal of him. He had some good qualities. He always spoke the truth, and I don’t recollect that he ever did any thing spiteful, or injured another purposely. His great fault was a habit of constant idleness. At play-time, when the rest of the boys were amusing themselves at their different sports, Maddox might always be found sitting on the stump of an old tree, that once overshadowed the playground; and all his employment was to scratch up the earth with a stick. This was so constantly the case, that the stump was called by the boys Maddox’s seat; and I have been told that it still goes by the same name; though, most likely, the circumstance that gave rise to it has long been forgotten. You may suppose that in school hours Harry did not gain much credit. He was oftener in disgrace than any boy amongst us. He stood near the bottom of the lowest class, and I do not know that he ever made his way much higher. Indeed, how should he? for all the time that he ought to have spent in learning his lessons, he passed in merely holding the book in his hand, or twisting the corners of the leaves.”
Charles. But I should have thought he would have been punished if he could not say his lesson; and he would not like that, I suppose.