The atlas was soon produced, and Clinton, turning to the map of South America, pointed out to the family the location of Rio Janeiro, in Brazil, on the Atlantic coast, and Valparaiso, the chief sea-port of Chili, on the Pacific side of the continent. Then, remembering his own unopened letter, he bade them good-night, and started for home.
CHAPTER XIX.
BITTER FRUITS.
“Mother, I’ve got lots of news,” said Clinton, as he entered the house; “Mrs. Preston’s had a letter from Jerry, and I’ve got one from Uncle Clinton. Jerry’s gone to sea, and wrote home from Rio Janeiro. He came near being shipwrecked, and he says he’s got enough of going to sea. He’s got to go clear round Cape Horn, though, to Valparaiso, before he can come home.”
“And what does your Uncle Clinton write?”
“O, I haven’t read that yet, but I’m going to now,” said Clinton; and he sat down and opened his letter. “See what a long one it is,” he added, holding it open; “I wonder what it can all be about.” It was as follows:—
“Boston, May 12, 185-.
“My Dear Nephew and Namesake,
It’s a long while since you have had a letter from me, and I suppose you will wonder what is going to happen when you see this; but don’t be frightened—there’s nothing alarming in the wind. We all felt very sorry, when your father wrote us that your anticipated visit to Boston this spring must be postponed. Willie, in particular, was sadly disappointed. He had set his heart on having a nice time with you—piloting you around the city, showing you the ‘elephants,’ and making himself generally useful and agreeable. And will you believe it, the silly fellow actually ‘boo-hooed right out’ when your father’s letter came, and put a wet blanket on his anticipations. Well, never mind, you’ll come this summer or fall, wont you? I’ve promised Willie you shall, and as I always keep my promises, you see there is no backing out of that. Tell your father that he must let you come, as soon as he can spare you; and if he doesn’t, I shall send a writ after you.
“I have a case on the docket, as we lawyers say, that I guess will interest you a little. Willie insists upon my writing a history of it for your benefit; and as he is full four feet high, now, and keeps a terrible great dog, I suppose I must comply with his wishes. The parties in this case are, on the one side, our venerable and dignified Commonwealth, and on the other, that young harum-scarum crony of yours, (if you will own him as such), Oscar Preston. You knew, I suppose, that Oscar went to sea after he left Brookdale so suddenly, last fall. He got back again in the winter, perfectly cured of his life-on-the-ocean-wave fever, and has done nothing but loaf about and cut up shines ever since. He wouldn’t go to school, and he wouldn’t go to work, and he wouldn’t do anything that his father wished him to do.
“But his bad habits were not all negative ones, I can assure you; for a few weeks ago it happened to be discovered, some how or other, that he and two or three other boys had formed a band of thieves, and had stolen several articles from different persons and houses. The affair went before the Grand Jury, and one of the young scamps confessed the whole story. So an officer arrested Oscar, and carried him to jail; and his father, on learning the facts in the case, was so enraged that he would not bail him out. He came to me, however, to see what could be done for Oscar, and engaged me to act as his counsel. I inquired into all the facts, and when I found how conclusive the evidence was against him, I told his father the best thing Oscar could do would be to plead guilty, and trust to the mercy of the judge, who, I had little doubt, would take into consideration his youth, and sentence him to the Reform School. His father objected to this at first, but at last he was convinced that this would be the best course. So we both went over to the jail, in Cambridge Street, last week, to talk with Oscar about it.