Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 85: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Old Hugh’s Look-off. me, as he joined the other boys, and he said, kindly: “T have told the teachers just what was said and done. I said plainly I did not blame you at all.” “Thank you,” answered I, gratefully. “Then your name is Frank Joy ?” “Yes, that is my name. I am afraid you wont have a very good opinion of the boys here. But Reg Motley has always held tyrannical sway over them. His father is a very rich man, you know, and Reg owns that darling yacht, the Nautilus, and his parties are the treat of the season; even I must admit that.” “Tam afraid I shall have a hard time here,” said I, mournfully. “Tam afraid you will; for you see Doctor Polisher has to yield a little to Reg, for I believe he is under great obligations to Mr. Motley in some way, and that makes the thing surer for Reg.” Some of the boys called him and he left me, ruefully contemplating the prospect, which was not improved when, after the school was finished, Doctor Polisher called me to his desk and said, coldly: “T find, from Joy’s account, that you are z0t-so much to blame as I supposed. Master Motley is an impulsive, impetuous lad, who does not stop to consider the meaning of his words or actions. But he is a great favorite with the pupils, and you will find yourself invariably injured by any difficulty you may have with him. You have certainly shown unjustifiable haste to pick up a quarrel, and I caution you that I shall deal less leniently with you if there is a second disturbance. I was very loath to receive you. I feared un- pleasantness for you, because—because—you are old €nough to understand the difference between your position and that of the rest of the pupils—but Mr. Starkweather insisted that you would be willing to pass over the annoyance ; and, as a favor to him, I consent- ed to receive you, so long as your good be- haviour justified me. I have been thus explicit with you, that you might understand the matter at the outset, and withdraw, if the prospect looks too discouraging.” This speech sounded to me dreadfully harsh, unkind and hard-hearted. I bit my lip angrily, and was almost ready to answer proudly that there was no need for him to receive so unwelcome a pupil—that I would trouble the academy of Doctor Polisher no further. But I was afraid my voice would 89 fail-me, if I attempted it, so I only nodded my head and walked hastily out of the school- room. As soon as I reached the street I ran, and I rushed in upon my mother, who sat at her endless sewing (she was a seamstress), all out of breath, my cheeks hot, my eyes full of angry tears. COAPTER II. “WELL, mother, I’ve been to the academy, and I hope I shall never set eyes on the in- side of it again in all my life!” exclaimed I, throwing down my satchel. My mother dropped her sewing, and turned around a startled face. “Why, Maury, how can you talk so, dear? I am afraid you’ve come home in a bad hunior.” “JT should think I might. O mother, don’t send me there again! I can’t bear it, I know I can’t, and I am unwelcome to them all.” She saw now that it was no light, boyish trouble, and her dear, sweet face grew pale, and put on a look of unutterable sadness. “ Maurice,” said she, “I have been sitting here at my sewing, feeling so thankful and happy that the arrangement I have so long planned, and hoped for, was effected. Don’t tell me, my boy, that any fault of yours has dashed all my hopes.” “ Let me tell you just how it was,” said T; and so I sat down on the footstool, and with her hand on my shoulder, and her sorrowful eye watching every expression of my face, IL repeated my day’s experience, trying my best to tell it impartially and truthfully. A long, tremulous sigh came from her as I concluded. “Thank Heaven! it is not so bad as I feared. You have still the privilege of going to the academy.” “The privilege of going!” repeated I, bitter- ly. “O mother, after what I have told you, would you send me there again?’ Have you no pride ?” “ Yes, Maurice, I have pride, such a pride as would rejoice in my son being well edu- cated, and nobly governed by his own calm spirit. Listen, my dear boy. There is no other way for you to get the education you need, and which I so ardently desire you to have. Icannot send you away where your board must be paid, for it is already just as much as I can do to make both ends meet.” “Let me go without any mere leartIings dyno