good-by to new river valley

the passing days dulled somewhat her memory of the terrors of the mine, and brought her to a truer view of it than had been possible in those first moments. after all, she reflected, there is none of the great, strenuous occupations of life which has not its peculiar dangers. the sailor, the engineer, the builder, the fireman—each must look death boldly in the face at times, and each, no doubt, comes strengthened out of the hour of trial. to the miner that daily journey into the darkness becomes one of life’s commonplaces, and is in no way nerve-disturbing—just as the master-builder will walk calmly and unhesitatingly across a narrow beam high in air, where another man would falter and grow sick.

and then the work, warm under her hand, was growing ever more absorbing, for the task of building up tommy’s education had begun in earnest. in this she found the minister a devoted helper. how carefully the boy’s studies were mapped out between them! they did not tell him the whole plan, but only so much of it as would serve to give him ambition to get on, without appalling him at the work which lay before him. it was not an easy thing to compress into one year the studies which ordinarily must have taken four or five, but the boy developed a great willingness and capacity for work, and if there were times when his teachers despaired, there were others when the way seemed bright before them. i think they both took pleasure in watching his growth and development from week to week,—almost, indeed, from day to day,—in noting the birth of new thoughts and the power of grasping new ideas. to cultured minds there is no occupation more delightful, so the devoted labor of this man and woman was not wholly without reward. but at last such progress had been made that mr. remington’s consent must be obtained before they could venture on further steps.

mr. bayliss went about the task one sunday afternoon, as the only time he could find the boy’s father at home and not wholly worn out with fatigue. he approached the cabin with great inward misgiving, but with determination to win if it were possible to do so. he found the family, as he had found it once before, listening to tommy’s reading, only this time the reader proceeded with much greater fluency. he stopped as mr. bayliss knocked, and welcoming him warmly, placed a chair for him. the minister greeted the other members of the family, and plunged at once into his business, before his courage should fail him.

“you enjoy your son’s reading a great deal, do you not?” he asked.

“ya-as,” assented the miner, slowly. “it’s a great thing. i hed no idee there was such books in th’ world.”

“there are thousands of them.” and the minister smiled. “not all, perhaps, quite so good and worthy as the ones you have been reading, but many of more direct value. there are books that tell about the sciences—about the stars and the earth and the flowers, and about animals and man. there are books that tell about the different countries of the earth, written by men who have traveled through all these countries. there are others that tell the history of the earth and of all the peoples that have ever lived on it, so far as it is known. there are hundreds which tell of the lives of great men—of kings and emperors and great generals and statesmen; yes, and of the men who have written the great books. many of these are written in the english language, but there are many, too, in latin and greek, and french, and italian, and german, and spanish, which are no less valuable.”

the miner and his wife sat staring with starting eyes at the speaker.

“but—but nobody ever read ’em all!” gasped the latter.

“certainly no one man ever read them all.” and the minister smiled again. “but any man may read and understand a great part of the best of them. tommy might, if he had the chance.”

tommy sat suddenly bolt upright in his chair, and the blood flew to his face.

“th’ chance?” repeated his mother, slowly. “what d’ you mean by th’ chance, mr. bayliss?”

“i mean that after he had learned all that miss andrews and i could teach him, he would have to go away for a time to study—to princeton, say, where i went, where there are men who devote their whole lives to teaching.”

mr. remington stirred impatiently in his chair.

“what fer?” he demanded. “s’pose he could read all th’ books in th’ world, what good ’d it do him?”

the minister perceived that there was only one argument which would be understood—the utilitarian one, the one of dollars and cents, of earning a living.

“when a man has learned certain things,” he explained, “he can teach them to others. a man who can teach things well can always command a good position. it would rescue your son from the mines, and, i believe, would make him better and happier.”

the miner sat for a moment, turning this over in his mind.

“mebbe ’twould, an’ then ag’in mebbe ’twouldn’t,” he said at last. “anyway,” he added, with an air of finality, “it ain’t t’ be thort of. how kin i pay fer him t’ go away t’ school? it must cost a heap o’ money. why, i can’t hardly keep my fambly in bread an’ meat an’ clothes.”

it was the objection the minister had been waiting for, and he seized upon it eagerly.

“we’ll provide for all that, mr. remington,” he said. “it sha’n’t cost you a cent. of course i know the struggle you have to get along—that every miner has. but every big college has hundreds of scholarships for deserving young men, and there are many ways in which the students can make money enough to pay all their expenses.”

he glanced at tommy, and saw that his lips were trembling. mrs. remington was nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. even her husband was more moved than he cared to show.

“i’m not going to press you for a decision now,” added the minister. “it’s too grave a question to decide hastily. yet, if you consider your son’s welfare, i don’t see how you can decide against him. send him to me to-morrow with your decision. it will be a great thing for him if he can go,” he concluded, and took his leave.

there was silence for a few minutes in the little room. mrs. remington continued knitting her fingers together, while her husband stared moodily through the window at the visitor’s retreating form. tommy sat glued to his chair, hopeful and despairing by turns, not daring to speak. no such momentous crisis had ever before appeared in his life.

“well, silas,” said his mother, at last, “it’s like th’ preacher says. it’s a great chance fer th’ boy. he wouldn’t be a-takin’ all this trouble ef he didn’t think th’ boy was worth it.”

the miner turned slowly away from the window and glanced at her and then at their son.

“would y’ like t’ go, tommy?” he asked.

there was a tone in his voice which told that the battle was already won. the boy recognized its meaning in an instant.

“oh, father!” he cried, and his arms were about his neck.

“all right, tommy,” he said, in a voice not very steady. “i’m not th’ man t’ stand in my boy’s light. mebbe ef i’d hed a chance like this when i was a boy, i could ’a’ give you a show myself. but i can’t.”

the mother hastily brushed away a tear that was trickling down her wrinkled cheek.

“come here, tommy,” she said, and when she had him in her arms: “your pa ain’t hed much chance, thet’s so,” she said, “but he’s done th’ best he could, an’ he’s been a good man t’ me. don’t y’ fergit thet, an’ don’t y’ ever be ashamed o’ your pa.”

“you hush, mother,” protested her husband; but there was a tenderness in his voice which made the command almost a caress. after all, not even the slavery of the mines can kill love in the heart, so it be pure and honest, and that little mountain cabin was a shrine that afternoon.

bright and early the next morning, tommy, with shining face, took the good news to the minister, and together they rejoiced at it, as did miss andrews when she heard. then work began with new earnestness. both of them recognized the fact that no education could be sound which was not firmly grounded on the rudiments, the “three r’s,” so they confined themselves to these foundation-stones, and budded them as strongly as they could. there was no more question of working in the mine in the afternoon. his father labored there without a helper, doing two men’s work, blasting down the coal and then loading it on the cars—at what a sacrifice no one unacquainted with the mines can understand. for there is a great social gulf between the miner and the laborer: each has his certain work to do, and does only that. but the father conquered his pride and dared to step down for a time to the lower scale; not without qualm and hesitation and moments of vexation; but there was another light with him besides the smoking oil one that flickered in his cap—a light which came from the heart and made the wearing labor almost easy.

it was not proposed to send tommy to the preparatory school until mid-september, so there were ten months remaining for work at home. and it was astonishing what progress they made. he had grown through his early boyhood, his mind like a great blank sheet of paper, ready to show and to retain the slightest touch. the beginning had been good,—there had been no false start, no waste of energy, no storing the precious chamber of the mind with useless lumber,—and the progress was still better. long and anxiously did his two teachers consult together over the best methods to pursue in this unusual case, and his progress proved the wisdom of their decisions.

so the months passed. spring came, and summer, and at last it was time for miss andrews to close her school and return to her home. she was almost sorry to go, her work had grown so fascinating, her life so full and useful. she had come to look upon the world about her from a view-point altogether changed; she thought no longer of how it might affect her, but of how she might affect it. in a word, she had grown to a true woman’s stature, in mind as well as body. but tommy’s studies were arranged for the summer, and she would be back again before he left for the east. he and the minister waved her good-by from the platform of the little yellow frame station, and turned back to their work. those summer months were the hardest of them all, for his tutor was determined that the boy should make a good showing at the school, and so kept him close at work, watching carefully, however, to see he was not driven beyond his capacity and the edge taken from his eagerness for knowledge. but, despite the long hours of study, tommy kept health and strength and freshness. all his life he had used his body only; now he was using his brain, with all the unspent energy of those boyish years stored up in it. and when his other teacher came back to her school she was astonished at his progress.

mr. bayliss had good news for her, too, of another sort.

“i have secured him a scholarship,” he said. “i knew i could count on the help of the head-master. it is an unusual concession, too, for the scholarships are rarely granted until the end of the first term. but they have never before had a case like this, and it appealed to them, as i knew it would. so three hundred dollars a year will see him through.”

“that is fine!” she cried. “i will see about the money at once.”

it was the evening after her return from richmond that she sought out jabez smith in his accustomed seat on the back porch. he glanced at her wonderingly as she resolutely brought the low rocker forward, planted it near his chair, and sat down.

“nice evenin’, ain’t it?” he observed, hitching one leg over the other and puffing his pipe uneasily, for he had developed a great shyness of her.

“yes, it is a nice evening,” she assented, laughing to herself, for she felt that she knew this man through and through. “i’ve come to make my report, mr. smith.”

“report?” he repeated.

“yes—about tommy remington. he’s been working hard for almost a year, and has made wonderful progress. you wanted us to find out if he had the making of a scholar in him. well, he has. he is fine enough to take almost any polish.”

jabez grunted and looked out at the hillside.

“his father has consented, too,” she continued resolutely, “and mr. bayliss has secured him a scholarship, so you see we’ve performed our part of the bargain.”

“an’ now y’ want me t’ do mine,” he said. “well, jabez smith never went back on a barg’in, an’ he ain’t a-goin’ t’ break thet record now.”

he took a great wallet from an inside pocket and slowly counted out a pile of bills.

“i was ready fer y’,” he said, and handed her the money. “i guessed you’d be a-comin’ after me afore long. there’s three hunderd dollars. an’ here’s th’ note; now don’t y’ fergit this is business—not a bit o’ sentiment about it. you git him t’ sign his name t’ th’ note, an’ then bring it back t’ me.”

she took the money and the paper with trembling hands.

“well, ain’t thet all?” he asked, seeing that she still lingered.

“no, it is not all,” she cried impulsively. “i want to tell you something of the great good you’re doing—of how i feel about it.”

“not a word,” he said sternly. “it’s business, i tell y’.”

“business!” she echoed. “i suppose all the rest was business, too—the food for the miners’ families when they were starving, the—”

“stop!” he interrupted fiercely. “d’ y’ want t’ spile my smoke?”

“i see through you!” she cried. “i know you! be just as cross as you like; i can see the soft, warm heart beating under it all.”

he sprang from his chair as though to run away; but she caught him by the shoulders, pressed him back into it, printed a swift kiss on his forehead, and fled, leaving him staring bewilderedly at the hillside.

she gave tommy the note next morning and asked him to sign it, telling him, too, of jabez smith’s kindness, and that he must make no effort at present to show his gratitude—that could come later. what his thoughts were she could only guess, for after he had signed, he sat for a long time, looking straight before him with eyes that saw nothing, and with lips held tight together to keep them from trembling.

every period of waiting must have an end, and the day of departure came at last. word of this new and wonderful venture into the unknown world had got about among the cabins, and quite a crowd gathered at the station to see him off. opinion was divided as to the wisdom of the enterprise. some thought it foolish. others regarded it with a kind of awe. but all looked with interest at the little procession which presently emerged from the remington cabin and came slowly down the path.

tommy they hardly knew. his father, by working overtime and practising biting economy, had saved enough money to buy him a new suit of clothes, a new hat, and a new pair of shoes. the remainder of his wardrobe, prepared by his mother with loving fingers, disputed the possession of a small square trunk with the books which the minister had given him and which he would need at lawrenceville. it was not a gay procession. to father and mother alike, this journey of five hundred miles seemed a tempting of providence, and tommy himself was awed at the trip before him. so little was said as they stood on the platform and waited for the train.

miss andrews and the minister kept up a desultory talk, but the gloom extended even to them. it is always a venturesome thing to take a boy from the sphere in which he is born and the environment in which he has grown up, and attempt to launch him upon some other plane of life. the responsibility of those who try to shape the lives of others is no little one, nor is it to be undertaken lightly. these two, who fancied they saw in this boy a capability for greater things than mere labor in the mines, fully understood all this, and for the moment it weighed upon them and was not to be shaken off.

at last, away down the track, sounded the whistle of the approaching train, and in a moment it whirled into sight. mrs. remington caught her boy in her arms and kissed him.

“good-by, tommy,” she said, and pressed him convulsively to her breast. “be a good boy.”

all pretense of composure dropped from tommy, and he turned to his father with streaming eyes.

“good-by, father,” he sobbed.

his father hugged him close.

“good-by, son,” he said with trembling voice. “y’ must write to your ma an’ me. the preacher’ll read us th’ letters, an’ we’ll like t’ git ’em.”

“i will, oh, i will!” sobbed tommy.

the train stopped at the platform with shrieking wheels.

“all aboard!” shouted the conductor. “hurry up, there.”

tommy shook hands tremulously with miss andrews and the minister. he caught a glimpse of jabez smith coming to get the mail, and started toward him with a vague intention of thanking him; but some one caught tommy by the arm and pushed him up the steps and into the coach. the train was off. through the window he caught one more glimpse of the little group on the platform, and then the train whirled him away into the great unknown.