The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 76, February, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 76, February, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
From that time a sort of friendship sprang up between George Hammond and
myself. Every morning I rowed him across the river, and, in the early
morning light, before the workmen were out of bed, he talked over,
partly to himself and partly to me, his plans for the day and his
vexations of the day before, until I began to offer advice and make
suggestions, which made him laughingly call me his little counsellor.
Then in the evenings (he slept at my father's) he would pick up my books
and amuse himself with talking to me about them, laugh at my crude
enthusiasms, clear up some difficult passage, prune away remorselessly
the trash that had crept into my little collection, until, one day,
returning from Cincinnati, where business had called him, he brought
with him a store of books inexhaustible to my inexperienced eyes, and
declared himself my teacher for the winter.
"Never mind Janet's knitting and mending, Mrs. Boarders," said he, in
reply to my mother's complaints; "she is a smart girl, and may be a
school-mistress yet, and earn more money than any woman on Sandy."
"But I am afraid," my step-mother answered, "that the books she reads
are not godly, and have no grace in them. They look to me like players'
trash. I've tried to do my duty to Janet," she continued, plaintively;
"but I hope the Lord won't hold me accountable for her headstrong ways."
Meantime, as I read in one of my books, and repeated to myself over and
over again in my fulness of content,--
"How happily the days
Of Thalaba went by!"
How rapidly fled that winter, and how soon came the spring, that would
bring me, I thought, new hopes, new interests, new companions!
How changed a scene did I look upon, that bright April morning, when I
went over the river to see that all was in readiness for the boats from
below which were to bring Esther Hammond to her new home! She was to
keep her brother's house; and furniture, books, and pictures, such as I
had never dreamed of, had been sent up by the last-returning boatmen,
all of which I had helped Mr. Hammond to arrange in the little two-story
cottage which stood on the first rise of the hill behind the store.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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