Читать книгу Janet's Love and Service - Margaret M. Robertson - Страница 11

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Other favourites of Mrs. Nasmyth’s were Mr. Snow and the schoolmaster, and the secret of her interest in them was their interest in the bairns, and their visits were made as often to the kitchen as to the study. Mr. Snow had been their friend from the very first. He had made good his promise as to nutting and squirrel-hunting. He had taught them to skate, and given them their first sleigh-ride; he had helped them in the making of sleds, and never came down to the village but with his pockets full of rosy apples to the little ones. They made many a day pleasant for his little girl, both at his house and theirs; and he thought nothing too much to do for those who were kind to Emily.

Janet’s kind heart had been touched, and her unfailing energies exercised in behalf of Mr. Snow’s melancholy, nervous wife. In upon the monotony of her life she had burst like a ray of wintry sunshine into her room, brightening it to at least a momentary cheerfulness. During a long and tedious illness, from which she had suffered, soon after the minister’s arrival in Merleville, Janet had watched with her a good many nights, and the only visit which the partially-restored invalid made during the winter which stirred so much pleasant life among them, was at the minister’s, where she was wonderfully cheered by the kindness of them all. But it was seldom that she could be prevailed upon to leave her warm room in wintry weather, and Sampson’s visits were made alone, or in company with little Emily.

The schoolmaster, Mr. Isaac Newton Foster, came often, partly because he liked the lads, and partly because of his fondness for mathematics. The night of his visit was always honoured by the light of an extra candle, for his appearance was the signal for the bringing forth of slates and books, and it was wonderful what pleasure they all got together from the mysterious figures and symbols, of which they never seemed to grow weary.

Graeme, from being interested in the progress of her brothers, soon became interested in their studies for their own sake, and Mr. Foster had not a more docile or successful pupil than she became. Janet had her doubts about her “taking up with books that were fit only for laddies,” but Mr. Foster proved, with many words, that her ideas were altogether old-fashioned on the subject, and as the minister did not object, and Graeme herself had great delight in it, she made no objections. Her first opinion on the schoolmaster had been that he was a well-meaning, harmless lad, and it was given in a tone which said plainer than words, that little more could be put forth in his favour. But by and by, as she watched him, and saw the influence for good which he exerted over the lads, keeping them from mischief, and really interesting them in their studies, she came to have a great respect for Mr. Foster.

But all the evenings when Mr. Foster was with them were not given up to lessons. When, as sometimes happened, Mr. Snow or Mr. Greenleaf came in, something much more exciting took the place of Algebra. Mr. Greenleaf was not usually the chief speaker on such occasions, but he had the faculty of making the rest speak, and having engaged the lads, and sometimes even Graeme and Janet, in the discussion of some exciting question, often the comparative merits of the institutions of their respective countries, he would leave the burden of the argument to the willing Mr. Foster, while he assumed the position of audience, or put in a word now and then, as the occasion seemed to require. They seldom lost their tempers when he was there, as they sometimes did on less favoured occasions. For Janet and Janet’s bairns were prompt to do battle where the honour of their country was concerned, and though Mr. Foster was good nature itself, he sometimes offended. He could not conscientiously withhold the superior light which he owed to his birth and education in a land of liberty, if he might dispel the darkness of old-world prejudice in which his friends were enveloped. Mr. Snow was ready too with his hints about “despotism” and “aristocracy,” and on such occasions the lads never failed to throw themselves headlong into the thick of the battle, with a fierce desire to demolish things in general, and Yankee institutions in particular. It is to be feared the disputants were not always very consistent in the arguments they used; but their earnestness made up for their bad logic, and the hot words spoken on both sides were never remembered when the morrow came.

A chance word of the master’s had set them all at it, one night when Mr. Snow came in; and books and slates were forgotten in the eagerness of the dispute. The lads were in danger of forgetting the respect due to Mr. Foster, as their teacher, at such times; but he was slow to resent it, and Mr. Snow’s silent laughter testified to his enjoyment of this particular occasion. The strife was getting warm when Mr. Greenleaf’s knock was heard. Norman was in the act of hurling some hundred thousands of black slaves at the schoolmaster’s devoted head, while Mr. Foster strove hard to shield himself by holding up “Britain’s wretched operatives and starving poor.”

“Come along, Squire,” said Mr. Snow. “We want you to settle this little difficulty. Mrs. Nasmyth ain’t going to let you into the study just now, at least she wouldn’t let me. The minister’s busy to-night.”

Mr. Greenleaf, nothing loth, sat down and drew Marian to his knee.

Neither Norman nor Mr. Foster was so eager to go on as Mr. Snow was to have them; but after a little judicious stirring up on his part, they were soon in “full blast,” as he whispered to his friend. The discussion was about slavery this time, and need not be given. It was not confined to Norman and Mr. Foster. All the rest had something to say; even Janet joined when she thought a side thrust would be of use. But Norman was the chief speaker on his side. The subject had been discussed in the village School Lyceum, and Norman had distinguished himself there; not exactly by the clearness or the strength of his arguments—certainly not by their originality. But he thundered forth the lines beginning “I would not have a slave,” etcetera, to the intense delight of his side, and to at least the momentary discomfiture of the other.

To-night he was neither very logical nor very reasonable, and Mr. Foster complained at last.

“But, Norman, you don’t keep to the point.”

“Talks all round the lot,” said Mr. Snow.

“I’m afraid that is not confined to Norman,” said Mr. Greenleaf.

“Norman is right, anyway,” pronounced Menie.

“He reasons in a circle,” said the master. “And because slavery is the only flaw in—”

“The only flaw!” said Norman, with awful irony.

“Well, yes,” interposed Mr. Snow. “But we have had enough of the Constitution for to-night. Let’s look at our country. It can’t be beaten any way you take it. Physically or morally,” pursued he, with great gravity, “it can’t be beaten. There are no such mountains, rivers, nor lakes as ours are. Our laws and our institutions generally are just about what they ought to see. Even foreigners see that, and prove it, by coming to share our privileges. Where will you find such a general diffusion of knowledge among all classes? Classes? There is only one class. All are free and equal.”

“Folk thinking themselves equal doesna make them equal,” said Mrs. Nasmyth, to whom the last remark had been addressed. “For my part, I never saw pride—really to call pride—till I saw it in this fine country o’ yours—ilka ane thinking himself as good as his neighbour.”

“Well—so they be. Liberty and equality is our ticket.”

“But ye’re no’ a’ equal. There’s as muckle difference among folks here as elsewhere, whatever be your ticket. There are folk coming and going here, that in my country I would hate sent round to the back door; but naething short of the company of the minister himself will serve them. Gentlemen like the Judge, or like Mr. Greenleaf here, will sit and bide the minister’s time; but upsettin’ bodies such as I could name—”

“Well, I wouldn’t name them, I guess. General principles are best in such a case,” said Mr. Snow. “And I am willing to confess there is among us an aristocracy of merit. Your friend the Judge belongs to that and your father, Miss Graeme; and I expect Squire Greenleaf will, too, when he goes to Congress. But no man is great here just because his father was before him. Everybody has a chance. Now, on your side of the water, ‘a man must be just what his father was.’ Folks must stay just there. That’s a fact.”

“You seem to be weel informed,” said Janet drily.

“Ah! yes; I know all about it. Anybody may know anything and everything in this country. We’re a great people. Ain’t that so, Mr. Foster?”

“It must be granted by all unprejudiced minds, that Britain has produced some great men,” said Mr. Foster, breaking out in a new spot as Mr. Snow whispered to the Squire.

“Surely that would be granting too much,” said Norman.

“But,” pursued Mr. Foster, “Britons themselves confess that it is on this Western Continent that the Anglo-Saxon race is destined to triumph. Descended from Britons, a new element has entered into their blood, which shall—which must—which—”

“Sounds considerable like the glorious Fourth, don’t it?” whispered Mr. Snow.

“Which hasna put muckle flesh on their bones as yet,” said the literal Mrs. Nasmyth.

“I was about to say that—that—”

“That the British can lick all creation, and we can lick the British,” said Mr. Snow.

“Any crisis involving a trial of strength, would prove our superiority,” said Mr. Foster, taking a new start.

“That’s been proved already,” said Mr. Snow, watching the sparkle in Graeme’s eye. She laughed merrily.

“No, Mr. Snow. They may fight it out without me to-night.”

“I am glad you are growing prudent. Mrs. Nasmyth, you wouldn’t believe how angry she was with me one night.”

“Angry!” repeated Graeme. “Ask Celestia.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t have much chance between Celestia and you. But I said then, and I say now, you’ll make a first-rate Yankee girl yourself before seven years.”

“A Yankee!” repeated her brothers.

“A Yankee,” echoed Menie.

“Hush, Menie. Mr. Snow is laughing at us,” said Graeme.

“I would rather be just a little Scotch lassie, than a Yankee Queen,” said Menie, firmly.

There was a laugh, and Menie was indignant at her brothers for joining.

“You mean a president’s wife. We don’t allow queens here—in this free country,” said Mr. Snow.

“But it is dreadful that you should hate us so,” said the Squire.

“I like you, and the Judge. And I like Mrs. Merle.”

“And is that all?” asked Mr. Snow, solemnly.

“I like Emily. And I like you when you don’t vex Graeme.”

“And who else?” asked Mr. Greenleaf.

“I like Celestia. She’s nice, and doesna ask questions. And so does Graeme. And Janet says that Celestia is a lady. Don’t you like her?” asked Menie, thinking her friend unresponsive.

“You seem to be good at asking questions yourself, Menie, my woman,” interposed Mrs. Nasmyth. “I doubt you should be in your bed by this time.” But Mr. Snow caused a diversion from anything so melancholy.

“And don’t Cousin Celestia like me?” asked he.

“Yes; she said you were a good friend of hers; but is she your cousin?”

“Well, not exactly—we’re not very near cousins. But I see to her some, and mean to. I like her.”

The study-door opened, and there was no time for an answer from any one; but as Mr. Snow went up the hill he said to himself: “Yes, I shall see to her. She is smart enough and good enough for him if he does expect to go to Congress.”