Clinton

by Walter Aimwell

“Now, father,” said Clinton a few days after, as he uncovered the box of eggs for which he had bargained, “now I am ready for you.”

“You don’t need any assistance,” replied Mr. Davenport; “all you have got to do, now, is to give the eggs to Specky, and she will do the rest.”

Specky was one of Clinton’s hens, and this name was given to her, on account of her speckled feathers. She had recently taken it into her head that she wanted to raise a family of little Speckies; but as Clinton did not happen to coincide with her in this matter, she had done nothing but make herself miserable for several days. Every chance she could get, she would jump into the nest, and commence setting, as though she were determined to bring a chicken out of the chalk nest-egg. When Clinton approached to take her off the nest, she would scream and cluck with all her might, which I suppose was her way of scolding; and when he put her down, she would squat upon the ground, and refuse to budge an inch. He was obliged to shut her up alone in a little coop, to reform her bad manners; but she had not got over her stubbornness, at the time Mr. Davenport told Clinton to let her take charge of the ducks’ eggs.

“But,” said Clinton, on receiving this direction, “will she set on those eggs?”

“Yes,” replied his father, “she will set on any thing that looks like an egg, and be glad of the chance, too. And besides, she will make a better mother to the little ducklings than their real mother would prove. The duck is so fond of the water, that when she once gets into it, she is apt to forget all about her eggs, until they get cold, and are spoilt. And if she should not fall into this blunder, and hatches her brood successfully, the first thing she does is to give the poor, weak things a cold bath, no matter how chilly or stormy it is. They can’t stand this rough treatment very well, and for this reason it is better to let hens do the setting and hatching, when there are any ducks to be raised.”

All this was new to Clinton, as he had never had any experience in the management of the duck family. He followed his father’s directions, however, and as madame Specky seemed delighted with the arrangement, he was satisfied. The next day, he set about building a house for the expected new comers, down in the meadow, by the side of the brook. This was something of an undertaking, for a boy of his age, but he took hold with a right good will, and by devoting to it all the time he could spare from his other duties, he had it completed, and ready for the ducks to move into, long before they had begun to show their heads.

At this time Clinton was not attending school, for the very good reason that there was no school in the place. The law of the State only required that every town should support a public school three months in the year; and as Brookdale had but a small and scattered population, the people did not think it advisable to continue their school any longer than the winter term, which lasted from the first of December to the first of March. During this season of the year, the lads and lasses of all ages, from six or seven years up to eighteen or twenty, turned out and attended the same school, and made the most of their brief opportunities for acquiring knowledge.

But though there were nine months of every year that Clinton did not attend school, he was not allowed to neglect his studies, during these long vacations. Both of his parents had received good educations in their youth, and they knew too well the value of the benefits thus secured, to allow their children to grow up in ignorance. Mrs. Davenport had once been a teacher herself, and it was now but a pleasant task to give Clinton and Annie their daily lessons, and to listen to their recitations. Mr. Davenport, too, had taught a school for one or two terms, when a young man. The branches which Clinton was now studying, were reading, writing, arithmetic, and grammar. He was required to devote two hours to his studies, each day, no matter how much work he had to do, or how much he wanted to play. In the evening his mother heard him recite, and gave him such assistance as he needed. In this way, he made considerable progress in his studies, though perhaps he did not learn as fast as he could had he enjoyed school privileges all the time. During the portion of the year he attended school, he always ranked above other boys of his own age, and was considered one of the best scholars in town.

Clinton also performed a good deal of work for his parents, when he did not attend school. In the spring he used to drive the ploughing team, while his father or the hired man guided the plough through the soil. He likewise made himself very handy in planting season; and in mid-summer he could rake the hay or hoe the corn and potatoes, almost as well as a man. He knew how to build a stone-wall, or to make a compost-heap, or to litter and feed the oxen, or to chop wood; for all these things, and many others, he had been taught to do. He was not required to labor too hard, or too long at one time; but his father wished him to learn to work while young, believing he would be happier if he had some useful employment for a portion of his leisure time. And Clinton found this to be true. He not only learned a great many useful things, from his daily labors, but he found that after working a few hours, he could enjoy his sports with much more zest than if he had idled away all his time in trying to amuse himself. Besides, it was no little satisfaction to know that he could be of some service to his parents, to whose care and affection he was so greatly indebted.

It was thus between work, study and play, that Clinton divided his time. He was an intelligent, kind-hearted, good-natured, and well-meaning boy, but——well, we will for the present drop the vail of charity over the unpleasant truth which belongs to the other side of that “but.”