Eric, or Little by LittleFarrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
General
Eric, or Little by Little
Farrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
Schools -- Fiction
"Oh ay, Fanny, that's just like you to say so; you're always talking and
prophesying; but never mind, I'm going to school, so, hurrah! hurrah!
hurrah!" and he again began his capering,--jumping over the chairs,
trying to vault the tables, singing and dancing with an exuberance of
delight, till, catching a sudden sight of his little spaniel Flo, he
sprang through the open window into the garden, and disappeared behind
the trees of the shrubbery; but Fanny still heard his clear, ringing,
silvery laughter, as he continued his games in the summer air.
She looked up from her work after he had gone, and sighed. In spite of
the sunshine and balm of the bright weather, a sense of heaviness and
foreboding oppressed her. Everything looked smiling and beautiful, and
there was an almost irresistible contagion in the mirth of her young
cousin, but still she could not help feeling sad. It was not merely
that she would have to part with Eric, "but that bright boy," thought
Fanny, "what will become of him? I have heard strange things of
schools; oh, if he should be spoilt and ruined, what misery it would be.
Those baby lips, that pure young heart, a year may work sad change in
their words and thoughts!" She sighed again, and her eyes glistened as
she raised them upwards, and breathed a silent prayer.
She loved the boy dearly, and had taught him from his earliest years.
In most things she found him an apt pupil. Truthful, ingenuous, quick,
he would acquire almost without effort any subject that interested him,
and a word was often enough to bring the impetuous blood to his cheeks,
in a flush of pride or indignation. He required the gentlest teaching,
and had received it, while his mind seemed cast in such a mould of
stainless honour, that he avoided most of the weaknesses to which
children are prone. But he was far from blameless. He was proud to a
fault; he well knew that few of his fellows had gifts like his, either
of mind or person, and his fair face often showed a clear impression of
his own superiority. His passion, too, was imperious, and though it
always met with prompt correction, his cousin had latterly found it
difficult to subdue. She felt, in a word, that he was outgrowing her
rule. Beyond a certain age no boy of spirit can be safely guided by a
woman's hand alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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