My Wife and I; Or, Harry Henderson's HistoryStowe, Harriet Beecher
General
My Wife and I; Or, Harry Henderson's History
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
American fiction -- 19th century; Courtship -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Romance fiction
The terms in some of our New England colleges are thoughtfully arranged
so that the students can teach for three of the winter months, and the
resources thus gained help out their college expenses. Thus at the same
time they educate themselves and help to educate others, and they study
with the maturity of mind and the appreciation of the value of what they
are gaining, resulting from a habit of measuring themselves with the
actual needs of life.
The time when the boy goes to college is the time when he feels manhood
to begin. He is no longer a boy, but an unfledged, undeveloped man--a
creature, half of the past and half of the future. Yet every one gives
him a good word or a congratulatory shake of the hand on his entrance to
this new plateau of life. It is a time when advice is plenty as
blackberries in August, and often held quite as cheap--but nevertheless
a young fellow may as well look at what his elders tell him at this
time, and see what he can make of it.
As I was "our minister's son," all the village thought it had something
to do with my going. "Hallo, Harry, so you've got into college! Think
you'll be as smart a man as your dad?" said one. "Wa-al, so I hear
you're going to college. Stick to it now. I could a made suthin ef I'd a
had larnin at your age," said old Jerry Smith, who rung the
meeting-house bell, sawed wood, and took care of miscellaneous gardens
for sundry widows in the vicinity.
But the sayings that struck me as most to the purpose came from my Uncle
Jacob.
Uncle Jacob was my mother's brother, and the doctor not only of our
village, but of all the neighborhood for ten miles round. He was a man
celebrated for medical knowledge through the State, and known by his
articles in medical journals far beyond. He might have easily commanded
a wider and more lucrative sphere of practice by going to any of the
large towns and cities, but Uncle Jacob was a philosopher and preferred
to live in a small quiet way in a place whose scenery suited him, and
where he could act precisely as he felt disposed, and carry out all his
little humors and pet ideas without rubbing against conventionalities.
He had a secret adoration for my mother, whom he regarded as the top and
crown of all womanhood, and he also enjoyed the society of my father,
using him as a sort of whetstone to sharpen his wits on. Uncle Jacob was
a church member in good standing, but in the matter of belief he was
somewhat like a high-mettled horse in a pasture,--he enjoyed once in a
while having a free argumentative race with my father all round the
theological lot. Away he would go in full career, dodging definitions,
doubling and turning with elastic dexterity, and sometimes ended by
leaping over all the fences, with most astounding assertions, after
which he would calm down, and gradually suffer the theological saddle
and bridle to be put on him and go on with edifying paces, apparently
much refreshed by his metaphysical capers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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