It was here that a desire to learn first took strong hold of me. Of course I did not presume to own a book, or to study one except at night, when Bob and I were alone. In a negro any show of intellectual ambition was looked upon as a rebellion against the unwritten law of society, and thus to steal the mind mysteries that made the white man great was doubly sweetened. I kept so good a pace with Bob that in me he sometimes found a helper over rough places, and I even now recall with pride that one night he looked at me admiringly and said: "Dan, it's a shame that you ain't a white boy."
At the end of the fourth week, Old Master and Old Miss drove over in the carriage. The president of the school met them with great ceremony and would not let them rest until he had shown them through his establishment. Bob went with them and I was permitted to hang behind, upon the implied condition that I was not to hear anything that was said. But I did hear and I remembered. In one corner of the main recitation room was a globe and shelves holding numerous books, to me the most learned spot in the world; and here the company halted.
"These books," said the president, "are kept here in constant view of the student to stimulate his ambition, to force upon his mind the power and the importance of thought. He has heard of the earth's great minds, and here he finds the fruit of those minds. I do not believe in shutting books in a stuffy room, sir; they ought to be where the sun-light, the companion of learning, can constantly fall upon them. Ah, and I am sure that as time passes your son will draw many a draft from this well. Won't you, Robert?"
Bob looked at him, while his parents waited for his answer, and said: "I like books with pictures in 'em."
"Ah, quite a shrewd remark," declared the president, putting his hand upon Bob's head. "His thought turns upon art, no mean branch of learning, I assure you. Of course, he is as yet too young to be consulted, General, but have you thought upon any profession for him?"
"The law," Old Master answered.
"The ministry," said Old Miss.
"Maw, what's that?" Bob asked.
"I want you to be a preacher," his mother replied, drawing him toward her, buttoning his jacket and then unbuttoning it.
"I don't want to be a preacher. They don't have any fun!"