Tom Newcombe; Or, the Boy of Bad Habits

by Harry Castlemon

“Well, you know where the wood-shed is. Go and get some.”

“O, I can’t,” Tom would invariably answer. “Let somebody else go. It wouldn’t look well for me to do it.”

Once or twice during the previous winter, for some offense that he had committed, he was compelled to remove the snow from the side-walk in front of the house. On these occasions, Tom, being very much afraid of soiling his gloves, handled the shovel with the ends of his fingers, and when any one passed by, he hung his head as if he did not wish to be recognized. Work of any kind was the severest punishment that could be inflicted upon him. In his estimation, it was a disgrace that never could be wiped out.

Tom also had a bad habit of saying, “O, I can’t; I know I can’t, and what’s the use in trying?” This was his favorite expression—one that he made use of at all times, and upon all occasions. If his lesson was hard, instead of going manfully at work to learn it, he would read it over carelessly a few times; and if he failed to remember it, or if he found it more difficult than he had expected, he would throw down his book, exclaiming: “O, I can’t get it. It’s too hard. Something’s always bothering me;” and that was the end of it as far as he was concerned.

“Tom,” his father would say, when he heard the boy make use of this expression, “don’t you remember the words of the old song, ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try—’”

But Tom, as soon as he found out what was coming, would interrupt him with—

“O, now, father, that’s all useless. What good does it do a fellow to try, when he knows he can’t succeed? It’s only time wasted. I’m quite sure the person who wrote that song never had any very hard things to do.”

At school, Tom never made any progress. Promised rewards or threatened punishments seldom had any lasting effect on him, and the result was, that all the boys of his age in the village soon left him far behind. He disliked very much to be beaten, and always wanted to be first in every thing; but even this failed to arouse him, and, as his school-mates termed it, he was “promoted backward,” until, at last, he found himself in a class with boys who were much younger than himself, but who, in spite of the difference in their ages, always had their lessons better than he. Finally, Mr. Newcombe, almost discouraged, took Tom out of school, and placed him under the charge of a private teacher, who lived at the mansion. When this change was made, Tom looked upon himself as a most fortunate boy; but he soon discovered a very disagreeable feature in the arrangement, and that was, his father was always in the school-room when he recited his lessons. This made Tom very uneasy. He did not wish to make a display of his ignorance before his father, and, besides, he knew that if the merchant took the matter into his own hands, something unpleasant would happen. On several occasions, he had assured Mr. Newcombe that he could recite his lessons much better if he were not present; but the latter, taking a different view of the case, was always at home during the recitations, and Tom had more than once been soundly scolded for his failures.

Tom was also sadly wanting in firmness of purpose. Like many boys of his age, he looked forward with impatience to the day when he should become a man; and the question that troubled him not a little, was, what should he do when he became his “own master,” as he termed it. He was full of what he considered to be glorious ideas, but, when he had determined to enter upon any particular calling, he always found something unpleasant in it. For instance, during the previous winter he had informed his father that it was his intention to become a sailor, and that nothing could induce him to change his mind. As usual with him, he wanted to begin at once, and he scarcely allowed his father a moment’s rest, teasing him from morning until night, for permission to go to sea on one of the vessels as cabin-boy. But Mr. Newcombe, who had once been a cabin-boy himself, and who knew what Tom would be compelled to endure, would not give his consent. He was not at all opposed to his son’s going to sea, for, having been a sailor himself, he looked upon a sea-faring man as a most useful and honorable member of society; but he knew that on ship-board, Tom’s uneasy, discontented disposition would keep him in constant trouble; and before he allowed him out of his sight he wanted him to abandon his bad habits. Besides, he did not wish his son to remain a foremast hand all his life, and he knew that if Tom wished to win promotion, he must first go to school and pay more attention to his books. So Mr. Newcombe told Tom that he could not go, and this made the boy very miserable indeed. Several of his playmates, who were much younger than himself, had been to sea on three or four voyages, and why couldn’t he go as well as any body? He could see no good reason for a refusal, and in order to punish his father for not allowing him to have his own way, he went into the sulks, and, for a day or two, scarcely spoke to any one. This was Tom’s favorite way of taking revenge on his father and mother, and no doubt it was the source of great satisfaction to him. But had he known how foolish he was, and how all the sensible boys of his acquaintance laughed at him, he might have taken some pains to conceal his ugly temper. He resolved that he would never abandon his idea of becoming a sailor, and every moment that he could snatch from school, was spent on the wharf, where he stood looking at the vessels, and wishing that he was his “own master,” so that he could do as he pleased. One night he took his stand on the wharf, and saw one of his father’s vessels towed into the harbor almost a wreck. Her foremast was gone, her deck and shrouds were coated with ice, her rigging all frozen, the sails useless, and those of the crew that were left, were in the most pitiable condition. This was an incident in the life of a sailor that had never entered into Tom’s calculations; and when he had seen the vessel moored at the wharf, and heard her captain tell his father that the crew, besides being badly frost-bitten, had been without food for two days, Tom started homeward, fully resolved that he would never follow the sea.