The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 109, November, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 109, November, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
"Yes, Mrs. Johnson, I believe so. Why?"
"Well, someb'dy's been in here to pay ye a call, afore twelve o'clock,
in a tearin' hurry. Says I, 'Ye've got afore yer story this time, I
guess,' says I. Says he, 'I guess I'll call again,' says he. He's left
ye them pinies an' snowballs in the pitcher."
"But who was it?"
"Well, no great of a stranger, it wa'n't,--Jim!"
"O, thank you."
"He kind o' seemed as if he might ha' got somethin' sort o' special on
his mind to say to ye. My! how he colored up at somethin' I said!"
I walked by, and away from her, into the house, but answered that I
should be happy to see Jim if he came back. Well I might. Through all
the months of school-keeping that followed my mother's death,--in the
little country village of Greenville, so full of homesickness for
me,--he had been my kindest friend. My old schoolmate, Emma Holly, from
whose native town he came, assured me beforehand that he would be so.
She wrote to me that he was the best, most upright, well-principled,
kind-hearted fellow in the world. He was almost like a brother to her,
(this surprised me a little, because I had never heard her speak of him
before,) and so he would be to me, if I would only let him. She had told
him all about me and our troubles and plans,--how I winced at that when
I read it!--and he was very much interested, and would shovel a path for
me when it snowed, or go to the post-office for me, or do anything in
the world for me that he could. And so he had done.
He had little chance, indeed, to devote himself to me abroad; for I
seldom went out, except now and then, when I could not refuse without
giving offence, to drink tea with the family of some pupil. But when I
did that, he always found it out through Mrs. Johnson, whose nephew he
was, and came to see me home. He usually brought some additional
wrappings or thick shoes for me; and even if they were too warm, or
otherwise in my way, I could be, and was, grateful for his kindness in
thinking of them. He was very attentive to his aunt also, and came to
read aloud to her, while she napped, almost every evening. At every meal
which he took with us, he was constantly suggesting to her little
comforts and luxuries for me, till I was afraid she would really be
annoyed. She took his hints, however, in wonderfully good part,
sometimes acted upon them, and often said to me, "How improvin' it was
for young men to have somebody to kind o' think for! It made 'em so kind
o' thoughtful!" Many a flower, fruit, and borrowed book he brought me.
He tried to make me walk with him; and, whenever he could, he made me
talk with him. But for him, I should have studied almost all the time
that I was not teaching or sleeping; for when I began to teach, I first
discovered how little I had learned. Thus nearly all the indulgences and
recreations of the rather grave, lonely, and hard-working little life I
was leading at that time were associated with him and his kind care; and
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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