Chapter 46

EARLY LIFE AND HABITS.

Scotch-Irish Presbyterianism of twenty-five years ago.--The "little deacon."--First days at school.--Choosing a wife.--A youthful gallant.--A close scholar but a wild lad.--A mother's influence.--Ward Glazier a Grahamite.--Young Willard's practical jokes.--Anecdote of Crystal Spring.--"That is something like water."

It must not be supposed that young Willard's home was gloomy and joyless, because it was presided over by a religious woman. The Presbyterians of that day and that race were by no means a lugubrious people. They did not necessarily view their lives as a mere vale of tears, nor did they think the "night side of nature" the most sacred one. The Rev. Mr. Morrison, one of their divines, tells us that "the thoughtless, the grave, the old and the young, alike enjoyed every species of wit," and though they were "thoughtful, serious men, yet they never lost an occasion that might promise sport," and he very pertinently asks, "what other race ever equaled them in getting up corn-huskings, log-rollings and quiltings?--and what hosts of queer stories are connected with them!" Fond of fun, there was a grotesque humor about them, which in its way has, perhaps, never been equaled.

"It was the sternness of the Scotch Covenanter softened by a century's residence abroad, amid persecution and trial, united to the comic humor and pathos of the Irish, and then grown wild in the woods among their own New England mountains."

Such was the Scotch-Irish Presbyterianism of that period.

Other cheerful influences were also at work in the two villages that comprised the town of Fowler. The only house of worship in the town proper was a Universalist church, and the people were compelled for the most part, notwithstanding their various creeds, to worship in a common temple where the asperities of sectarian difference had no existence.

Ward Glazier, at that time, was an adherent of Universalism, while his wife held evangelical views. But he was ever ready to ride with his wife and son to the church of her choice at Gouverneur, a distance of six miles, and returning, chat with them pleasantly of the sermon, the crops, the markets and the gossip of the town.

In truth, young Willard's early home was a good and pleasant one, and having learned, under his mother's careful training, to read exceedingly well, for a boy of his age, by the time he reached his fourth year he became noted for his inquiring disposition, his quiet manner, and a quaint habit of making some practical application of the "wise saws" with which his mother had stored his juvenile mind.

The result was that up to this period of his existence he was an old-fashioned little fellow, and somehow had acquired the sobriquet of the "little deacon."

At about five years of age, however, a change took place in the boy.

The bird that flutters and twitters in the parent nest is a very different thing from the emancipated fledgeling, feeling its newly acquired power of flight, and soaring far up and out into the woods and over the fields; and the boy whose experience of life is confined to the household of his parents, is not less different from the lad who has gone beyond it into the bustle and turmoil of that epitomized world,--a public school.

Little Willard, like other youths, was thrown into this new sphere of action suddenly, and without any adequate idea of what was there expected of him. The first day passed as all first days at school pass, not in study, but in looking on and becoming accustomed to the surroundings, himself in turn being the subject of scrutiny by his school-mates, as the "new boy." The day did not end, however, without its incident.

Young Willard as soon as he had made his bow to his new teacher, was placed upon a bench in close proximity to a pretty little girl of about his own age. Instead of wasting his time therefore, by studying the less attractive lineaments of his male companions, he made a careful comparison between this young lady and the other girls present, the result of which was that the moment he was permitted to go out during the customary recess, he bounded off home at the top of his speed, and with all the exuberance natural to his years announced to his astonished mother, "Mother! mother! I've picked out my wife!"

Susceptibility to the influence of beauty seems, at this period of Willard's life, to have been one of his prominent characteristics, for in addition to exhibiting itself in the manner described, upon another occasion not long afterwards it broke out as follows:

Every school-boy is aware that there is nothing so humiliating to a male pupil at a public school as to be called a "girl-boy." Hence, for trivial offences a boy is often punished by being sandwiched between two girls, and compelled to remain there until the offence committed has been sufficiently atoned for. Now young Willard was frequently guilty of talking during study hours, and his teacher determined to try this species of punishment upon him with a view of correcting the offensive habit. As soon, therefore, as he caught him indulging in the prohibited practice, he was ordered to take his place between two very young ladies of six and eight summers respectively. To the amazement of his teacher, young Willard sustained the infliction smilingly, and believing that this was an indication that the culprit recognized the justice of the punishment and was practising a commendable patience, he very soon called him up to his own desk, reasoned with him upon the necessity of observing the rules of school, and released him with an admonition to be careful for the future, as a repetition of his offence would certainly be followed by a repetition of the punishment.

Willard said nothing, but went to his desk, and for the space of five minutes, perhaps, there was complete silence in the school-room. Then Mr. ---- was startled to hear a distinct, clear, unmistakable whisper break in upon his meditations, and became as suddenly struck with the conviction that it was uttered by Master Willard Glazier.

The countenance of the pedagogue grew dark and stern. Fire shot from his usually calm eyes, and his expression betokened the fact that this flagrant act of disobedience was more than he could bear. Indignation however soon gave place to astonishment, for the little fellow, without waiting for a single word from his teacher's lips, quietly arose to his feet, and with the placid expression of an individual performing a meritorious action, marched across the school-room and deliberately seated himself in the place he had before occupied between the two little girls.

"Willard Glazier!" thundered the master, "come here, sir, immediately!"

The boy of course instantly obeyed.

"What do you mean, sir!" exclaimed the teacher, "how dare you conduct yourself in this disgraceful manner, sir!"

Young Willard looked astonished.

"Why, Mr. ----," said he, "didn't you say that if I whispered to Myron Sprague again, I should go back and sit between Lizzie and Annie?"

"Yes, sir, I did, and how dare you disobey me in this way?"

"Why, sir," said Willard, "I whispered again to him, because, sir,--because--I like to sit there, sir."

A light dawned upon the mind of the master, and thereafter he adopted a less attractive mode of punishing Willard's offences. To some of my readers such incidents may seem too trivial for record, and no doubt such days as these _are_ foolish days, but are they not in our memories, among our very happiest too? As David Copperfield said of such, so say we, that "of all my time that Time has in his grip, there's none at which I smile so much, or think of half so kindly."

The usual surroundings of a public school made a great change in the existence of Willard Glazier, and it is necessary to note its influence, for in writing the life of a man in its private as well as its public relations, the chief point to be considered is that which men call _character_, and how it was formed and fashioned.

If the truth must be told, the "little deacon" had not been a month in attendance at school before he was up to every imaginable species of mischief that the fertile brain of a school-boy could conceive--provided its execution did not involve unequivocal untruth or palpable dishonesty.

No human being, save one, was exempt from his practical jokes. That one was his mother. In his wildest moods, a glance of reproach from her would check him. His father, however, enjoyed no such immunity, and in a kindly way, he delighted in tormenting the good man whenever the opportunity offered.

For instance, that worthy gentleman, among other idiosyncracies, was a follower of the so-called Dr. Sylvester Graham, an ex-Presbyterian clergyman who, in 1832, inaugurated, by a familiar course of lectures, a new system of dietetics.

The Grahamites, as they were called, held that health is the necessary result of obeying certain physical laws, and disease the equally certain result of disobeying them; that all stimulants are pernicious to the human body, and should be rejected, except in those rare cases where it becomes necessary to administer one known poison as an antidote to another equally deadly, in order to neutralize its effects or expel it from the system. Dr. Graham condemned the use of tea, coffee and spices, tobacco, opium, and not only alcoholic drinks but even beer and cider, declaring that all were equally poisonous, and that they only differed in the degree in which their evil qualities were concentrated or expanded.

Ward Glazier held this theory to be the result of a profound philosophy, and considered the observance of the course of diet he prescribed to be the only way in which a human being could secure for himself a sound mind in a sound body. In medicine, Mr. Glazier was an equally rigid hydropathist. He held that the system of water cure was the only rational system of healing. One of his individual fancies was to drink only water obtained from a particular spring. This spring was beautifully clear and cold, and was situated at the distance of about sixty rods from the house. It was Willard's allotted duty each day to fill a large pitcher from its crystal treasures for use at meals. In order to do this, the brooklet being extremely shallow, and running over masses of pebbles, he was compelled to kneel and dip it up with a cup,--an operation requiring both time and patience. Now within a few yards of this place flowed a small stream or creek considerably deeper and of larger volume, fed by a number of rills, and as the boy had conceived the impression that his father only fancied a distinction where there was really no difference, between the waters of the rival streams, it occurred to him that he might just as well plunge his pitcher in the latter, fill it by a single effort, and thus save himself what he especially disliked,--useless labor. This he did with the following result:

Ward Glazier was just about sitting down to dinner as Willard entered, and observing that his son came from the immediate vicinity of the creek, poured out and tasted a little of the water with evident dissatisfaction.

"Willard," said he, "you didn't get this from the spring; this is creek water. Now go right back and get a pitcherful from the spring."

Off started Master Willard to do as he was bidden, but on his way, the originator of all mischief suggested to his fertile brain the idea of playing a trick upon his father; so instead of going to the spring, he simply loitered for a few moments out of sight of such of the family as might be at the windows,

"Under an elm whose antique roots peep out Upon the brook, that brawls along the wood."

He then quietly sauntered back, with the identical pitcher of water with which he had come forth.

"There," said he, emphatically, as if he had fulfilled his mission, at the same time placing the pitcher near his father's plate upon the table. The good man took it up, examined the contents with a critical eye, poured out a glassful of the sparkling liquid and drained it to the last drop.

"Ah," said he, with a sigh expressive of great satisfaction, "_that_ is something like water! _that_ does a man good!"

This evidence of parental fallibility Master Willard enjoyed hugely, but it was many years before he ventured to give his father an opportunity to join in the laugh at his own expense, by telling him of the occurrence.