“I don’t want them to see this old book that I began in, but I’ve written it full, and to-night I’m going to begin the new one your father brought me. I will write in that to-night and to-morrow night instead of reading and spelling, and then you can let ‘em see that.”
When the evening came and Bertie produced the writing-book, James’ face was redder than a fire coal. The boys lavished their praises upon the writing, in which all the family joined. Indeed they laid it “on with a trowel.”
To relieve the embarrassment of James, and prevent the boys from increasing it by their questions, Mrs. Whitman placed a bowl of butternuts and chestnuts upon the table. But the old grandfather changed the subject much more effectually by saying,—
“Fifty years ago this morning, about day-break I shot a Seneca Indian behind the tree these butternuts grew on, with that rifle that hangs over the fireplace, buried him under it, and his bones are there now.”
No more was thought of writing, reading, or spelling, that evening, and for half an hour the nuts were untasted.
James soon became so accustomed to the Edibeans, that he did not hesitate to write when they were present, and John Edibean proposed that they should have a reading-lesson together, and also a writing-lesson, after which they should spell together, the whole family taking part, which was done.
James could now read short sentences and spell most words of two syllables, and could make a better pen than any of them; the boys soon ascertained this and got him to make their pens. So little a matter as this tended very much to inspire him with confidence, and help him overcome the shrinking sensitiveness and self-deprecation when contrasting himself with others, and which he ever manifested in the expression, “such as me or the likes of me.”
When they were about to write, it was quite ludicrous to hear Bertie sinking the master in the pupil, and with much effort to keep a sober countenance, saying,—
“Master, please mend my pen.”
Jonathan Whitman had a good set of carpenter’s tools, made all his farm implements that were constructed of wood, and repaired his buildings. This tendency he inherited from his father, who, according to the son, possessed much more mechanical ability and ingenuity than himself, though the stern struggles and exigencies of his early life left scant opportunity for the practice of it. But now in his old age he spent much time in the shop, repaired all the farming tools, and was considered the best man to make a wheel or stock a rifle in the whole county.