The Mother CHAPTER 11.
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An Agreeable Surprise.
The incident just related occurred about a year and a half after Clarence entered college. He had, then, nearly completed his sixteenth year.
About a week afterwards, and before they had received any communication from their son, mentioning the circumstance, Mr. Hartley handed his wife a letter. Its contents were as follows:
"Mr. James Hartley — Dear Sir — As the President of University, permit me to express to you my own and the thanks of the whole Faculty. The good and true principles which you have stored up in the mind of your son, have saved us from the evils of a well-planned resistance of authority by the students. No persuasions, we are told, could induce him to join with the rest. Personal violence was threatened, but this only made him adhere more firmly to his good resolution. The consequence was, that his conduct opened the eyes of one and another to see the folly of what they were about to do. Two parties were formed, and, before any overt act of rebellion, the peace party prevailed. We shall ever remember your son with admiration and gratitude. From his first entrance into our institution, he has been known as the strict observer of all its rules, and a diligent student. It is but just that his parents should know all this from us. With sentiments of the highest respect and regard, Dr. John Miller, President of University."
Tears of joy gushed to the eyes of Mrs. Hartley, as she finished the last line of this letter.
"Noble boy!" she said with enthusiasm.
"You are pleased with the letter, then," said her husband, with assumed gravity.
"O yes! Are you not?" and she looked aim in the face with surprise.
"Not exactly."
"Why?"
"It would have all been well enough, if the direction had not been wrong."
"What do you mean? Was it not our son that acted so nobly?"
"O yes. But the letter should have been addressed to you."
Mrs. Hartley smiled through her tears, and said —
"It is all right. Are we not one? But what would my efforts have been without your wise counsel to second them. I will never care for the praise, so long my boy does right. That is my sweetest reward. This is indeed a happy day. You know how much anxiety I have felt for Clarence. His peculiar temperament is, perhaps, the hardest there is to manage."
"And had you not been the most assiduous and wisest of mothers — you never could have molded it into any form of beauty."
"Many an anxious day and sleepless night has it cost me. I sowed the seed in tears; but the dews of Heaven watered the earth, and when the tender blade shot forth, the Sun of Righteousness warmed and strengthened it. Oh, how often have I felt discouraged! The selfishness of the boy was so strong, and he had so little regard for order. To counteract these, I labored daily, and almost hourly. But I seemed to make little progress — sometimes all my efforts appeared fruitless. Still, I persevered, and it has not been in vain."
"O no. You have saved him from his worst enemy — himself."
"Henry is now old enough for college. What shall we do with him?" the mother said.
"Send him to University with his brother, I suppose. There is not a better institution in the country."
"Do you think it will be safe to send him from home?" asked Mrs. Hartley.
"Why not?"
"His disposition has changed little since he was a child. He is still confiding, and easily led away by others. Clarence had a strong will and prominent faults, which could be attacked vigorously; but the defects of Henry's character were hard to reach. I have thought much on the subject of sending him to college, but feel more and more reluctant to do so, the nearer the time comes for making a decision on the subject."
"We ought not to deprive him of the advantages of a good education. He would stand side by side with his brother in this respect."
"True. But cannot we give him all these advantages at a less risk."
"I know of no institution in this city where the same advantages may be secured."
"I believe there is none. But, should we look alone at this? Will our child be safe there? Is his character yet decided enough for us to trust him from our side? I think not. The frankness with which Clarence has written to us of the various temptations that have assailed him from time to time, has opened my eyes to the dangers which must encompass a boy like Henry in such a place, and I would not feel happy a moment were he to go there."
"Then he must not go," said Mr. Hartley, firmly. "You have ever been a true mother to our children, and your love has thus far led you to determine wisely in regard to them. Though I must own that I feel very reluctant to deprive the boy of the advantages of a thorough college course of instruction."
"Have not my reasons force in your mind?" asked Mrs. Hartley. "Do you not believe that it would be wrong for us to jeopardize the spiritual interests of our child, in the eager pursuit of intellectual advantages."
"I certainly do. The latter should only be for the sake of the former. The intellect should be cultivated as the means of developing the moral powers, that both in union may act in life with true efficiency. If all the higher objects of education can be secured by keeping our child at home, we ought not, under any circumstances, to send him away."
"They may often be better secured away from home, if the boy has firmness enough to resist the temptations that will assail him. But the question whether the boy can so resist, must be decided by the parents before he is sent out to make his first trial on the world-arena."
"My own feeling is, that we had better keep Henry under our guidance as long as it can be done. He is not a boy with the quick intellect of Clarence, and will, probably, never be ambitious to move in a sphere where the highest attainments are required. It would be much more agreeable to him now to go to work in your store, than to go to school."
"And I shall not grieve over his choice of a pursuit in life, if he should prefer the calling of a merchant."
"Nor I. Active employment is the best for all, and in choosing a profession in life, that should always be chosen which will give the mind great activity, while, at the same time, it brings in the affections also. The pursuit of any calling which a man does not like, can never result to his own and the public advantage in so high a degree as it would were his heart in what he was doing. For this reason, we ought to be governed very much, in deciding for our children, by their fitness for and preference for a pursuit in business."
"Children's preferences, however, do not always arise from any peculiar fitness in themselves — but often from caprice."
"It is the business of a wise parent to discriminate between a natural fitness for a thing — and a fleeting preference for it. The imagination of young people is very active, and apt to throw a false light around that upon which it dwells."
Many conversations of a like nature were held by Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, who finally came to the determination to keep Henry at home. The boy was disappointed at this. He wanted to go to college; not for the sake of the superior advantages there to be obtained, but because his imagination had thrown a peculiar charm about a college life."
Before making a final decision on the subject, Mrs. Hartley thought it right to bring Clarence into their confidence. She wrote him a long letter on the subject, and asked him to give his opinion of the effect that would be produced upon a boy like Henry, if introduced among the students. "You know his disposition," she said, "and how he would be affected by the kind of associations into which he would be thrown."
Clarence wrote back immediately, that he did not believe it would be good for Henry to be exposed to the temptations of a college life. "He is too easily led away by others," he remarked. "I have noticed more than a dozen instances, since I have been here, of boys just like Henry, who were innocent and confiding in their dispositions when they came — who soon became so changed that it made me sad to think about it. There was one boy in particular. His mother came with him when he first entered college. She appeared to be deeply attached to him, and he to her — they both wept bitterly at parting. She was a widow, and he her only remaining child, upon whom all her care, affection and assets were lavished. He soon made friends, for all seemed drawn towards him. Singular as it may seem, the boy, between whom and himself the warmest attachment arose, was as unlike him as it is possible to imagine. He was a bold, bad boy — full of life, and ready to do almost anything that his reckless spirit prompted. In a little while, they were inseparable companions. At the end of six months, the spirit of the one seemed to have been transfused into that of the other. I almost wonder, sometimes, if the mother would know her son, were they to meet unexpectedly. I hope you will not send Henry here. He might pass through his course uncontaminated, but I think it would be dangerous to expose one like him to so many temptations."
This letter fully decided Mr. and Mrs. Hartley.
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