Phil could hardly believe his ears.
“You, sir! come to you!” he exclaimed, his whole face radiant with joy. “Oh, thank you, thank you; how can I ever thank you enough!”
He flew to the good farmer, the minister coming slower, and told him the precious good news, ending with, “Now I shan’t grow up a dunce!”—and I am afraid I must add that he took one or two great joyful jumps in the air, at which the minister looked a little grave, as it was Sunday, but did not say one word of reproof, because he knew that “boys would be boys,” and sometimes jumped when they ought to stand as still as a mouse.
It was all settled, and the next evening, just as the stars were peeping out, Phil shouldered his books, which, you will remember, were sent away from the school with him, and almost ran all the way to the parsonage.
It is perfectly astonishing how easy a lesson becomes, if you resolutely drive all other thoughts out of your mind, collect your five wits, and set to work at your book. Phil found it so, to his great delight. The good minister smoothed away some of the difficulties which required a little explanation, and excited his ambition to conquer others; and not being near so pompous as the great Dr. Gradus, though knowing quite as much, he and Phil got on capitally together. He did not learn Greek, Latin, and all manner of hard things, like a flash of lightning, mind you. If I should be so absurd as to tell you this, you would know I was writing about an impossible boy. But his mind gradually cleared up, because he no longer ate like a glutton, and he slept like a top, and took plenty of healthy exercise, and this has every thing to do with intellect and brain. You know, if you have a terrible headache, or eat a great many buckwheat cakes for breakfast, you can’t do your sums. So, if you want to grow up a wise man or woman, try to be a healthy child, full of good-nature, good-temper, activity, and courage. They will greatly increase your ability to learn.
About a mile from Mr. Goodfellow’s farm was a beautiful country place, which had lately been offered for sale, and one day, when Phil had been almost three months in his new home, the farmer, as he drew in his chair at the tea-table, said—
“Wife, Woodlawn is bought, and the owner is coming to take possession next week.”
He gave his wife a peculiarly comical look as he said this, and a smile broke over her face, but she did not ask any questions.
Phil did not care who was coming; he was so engaged with his books, and so happy working out in the fields all day, that if he could only have heard from his parents, he would have had nothing left to wish for.
Just at this time, also, there was a public examination at Dr. Gradus’s school, where anybody in the company was invited to put the most puzzling questions to the scholars. You may be sure, Johnny was always ready with an answer, except once, when he and the whole school, and all the company, burst out laughing, because a queer old wag of a gentleman, seeing that Johnny was so quick and bright, came out suddenly with this—