That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

CHAPTER X.

The time of my departure was coming. I scarcely need say that I had a new outfit. The darzies were set to work and various articles were purchased until the boxes were full to bursting. The day before my departure a large basket was filled, the center piece a huge fruit cake, surrounded by lesser cakes and the spaces filled with sweets. When this was full to the top, the sight of it was enough to gladden the mouths of any number of boys. Mr. Percy, no doubt, recalling his boyhood days as if he knew what was coming, said, “Charles, I think the boys will be glad to see you again.” And they were. We had many a feast out of that basket. We appointed a catering committee to see to the distribution and to prolong our stock. I could not take the credit to myself and omit Mr. Percy, so I told them that he had sent the basket for them as well as for me, and I think they were better boys for knowing they had such a friend. He, I think, would have called this one of his religious services. And why not?

As I had plenty of money to buy all I wanted on our market day, I reserved most of my share of the basket for little Johnny, the only child of the widow, who, like me, never had a father, and except his poor mother, scarcely a friend. Though he was not of our higher class society, I invited him to our treats, and as it was my basket, and I was somewhat master of the situation, no one, except two or three snobs, made objection to his coming.

My leaving home was quite an event, like the departure of some honored guest. All showed their love and respect not for myself alone, but on account of the friendship Mr. Percy had for me. He took me to the station in his carriage, and as the train was starting grasped me by the hand and with tears in his eyes said, “God bless you Charles. Be studious; be true; be clean in thought, in word, and deed,” and he stood watching until the train was out of sight.

The years passed pleasantly though monotonously. We boys had our little tiffs as men have their big ones. Toward the close of the year we put up a big calendar of our own on the wall of our room, and in the evening, at the close of each day, a boy in turn marked off the date with a long black pencil, and we all joined in a song composed by our poet for the occasion. Any one who has never been a boy at school can smile at this if he pleases. It was our way of keeping track of time.

I had a good supply of new books, and to get time to read them, finished my lessons as quickly as possible. My two letters a week came as regularly as the dates on our calendar. The delight I had in those just received, and the anticipation of those coming, was to me a great source of pleasure. And I had mine to write. Shortly after the term opened, the principal, meeting me, said: “Master Japhet, you need not send your letters to me any more for me to read. Seal them and put them in the post-box, and you can write as many as you wish.” He did not say why, for he never gave a reason for anything, as his word was law, he was law unto himself, and to all the rest of us, for that matter. But I knew the wherefore of it, that it was one of Mr. Percy’s surprises, as it was characteristic of him to give surprises of pleasure without even hinting about them. I could well say: “Nothing like having a friend at Court.” I left our dignified governor with almost a bound of delight, thinking I could write just as I felt, the thoughts of my heart without a spy over me.

The year closed, and we were all soon homeward bound again.

I need not tell who met me or how I was received. We had our morning rides, our evening drives, our walks, our talks, our cozy dinners and those blessed after-dinner coffee chats in front of the fire in the drawing room, for my vacations always occurred in the cold seasons, when it was pleasant to have a fire. Then we three enjoyed ourselves. I mean by three, Mr. Percy, Cockear and myself, for Cockear always made one of our company. He sat in front of us, on the rug, with that ear of his always erect, listening intently to all that was said, and frequently bowing assent to any good point that he thought we had made. And sometime, somewhere in the great beyond, he may be able to tell us how much he was helped to a higher and nobler life by those talks of ours. If God is so careful as to number the hairs of our heads, and to notice every sparrow that falls, will He not also look after the good dogs?

To tell really just what I think: I have seen many dogs whom I thought better fitted for heaven and eternal life than lots of men I have known. This may be only an opinion or a prejudice of mine, yet I will vouch for this as a fact, that a dog was never known to betray his friends. And still further. If mankind were as good as dogs in their morals and actions, then the clergy, priests and parsons might all go to cleaning pots and kettles or some honest labor, instead of trying to clean the souls of men.

Frequently in our evening drives we called at the library or club, where Mr. Percy introduced me as his Charles. All treated me cordially, as I thought, chiefly on Mr. Percy’s account, and for his sake I put my best in front, so as not to be unworthy of him. One evening, as I went out of the reading room into the hall, I heard Mrs. Swelter, a great, humpy dumpy woman, with a very red face, the wife of the General of the station, remark: “Mr. Percy, you seem to make a great pet of that Eurasian?” “Hit again!” I said to myself. I hurried away as quickly as I could. I concluded that the time had come when I must know the meaning of that word. When we gathered that evening in front of the fire I asked Mr. Percy what it meant.