Little By Little | Page 3

who was obliged to struggle with the realities of life in order to win a comfortable subsistence for his large family. In the inoffensive sense of the term, he was a poor man; that is, he lived from hand to mouth, and had not saved a single dollar with which to meet the misfortunes of life. But he had brought up his family as well as he could, and given the oldest the best education his limited means would afford.
Thomas Nettle's father was a wealthy merchant, who had retired from active business, and lived upon his beautiful estate in Bayville, in which transpired the events of my story. Major Nettle, as his townsmen called him,--for he had attained to the rank indicated by his military title in the militia,--was an easy, careless man, and had but a very low appreciation of the moral and religious duties and responsibilities of a parent. It was a favorite theory with him that a boy would do well enough if only let alone. It was of no use to cram his head or his heart with notions, as he called them, about morality and religion; the boy would find them out himself when he wanted them. In support of his doctrine, he used to point to the minister's son who was in the state prison, and the deacon's son who had run away to sea to avoid the house of correction. Of course, then, Master Thomas Nettle's parental training was never very severe, for he had no one to dispute his independence when he chose to assert it.
Paul had seen enough of the world to find out that wealth commands a certain respect, and he could not always keep down a sense of deference with which his rich companions inspired him; and when they admitted him to their friendship, he could not help being greatly influenced by their words and their actions. Thomas was always dressed well, and always had money in his pocket; and these things made Paul realize the difference in their social positions. It is true, he tried to make himself believe that he was as good as any one else, and would not bend his neck or his knee to the smartest boy in Bayville; yet he could not but feel the disparity between himself and the sons of his rich neighbors. He would not go out of his way to court their favor, though it flattered his vanity to be their chosen companion.
"Steady! why don't you luff her up, when the puffs come," said Thomas, as a flaw of wind struck the sail, and careened her so far that she took in a little water over the side.
"Oh, I don't mind a little dash of water over the side," replied Paul, with a smile; for it must be owned that he was disposed to punish his companion for the imputations he had cast upon his seamanship and his courage.
"Well, are you going ashore?" continued Thomas. "Are you going to let your mother domineer over you? If you do, I hope she will put you in the cradle and rock you to sleep when you get ashore."
"We must get some ballast," answered Paul, who had not yet got far enough to declare his independence of maternal authority.
"You are afraid to go!"
"I think I can stand it as long as you can."
"Then what are you going ashore for?"
"After more ballast," replied Paul, who, though deeply stung by the sneers of Thomas, had not yet decided to disobey his mother.
"Will you take me down to the Point when you get the ballast?"
"I don't know; I'll see."
The old boat dashed on, and in a moment or two grounded upon the beach. There was a great struggle in the soul of Paul. He did not like to go contrary to the express command of his mother on the one hand, and he did not like to incur the derision of Thomas on the other, for he would tell it to all the boys who would call him "chickenish."
"There are two rocks that will just answer your purpose," said Thomas, as they leaped out of the boat. "You take one and I will take the other. Come, bear a hand, or I shall not get to the picnic till the fun is all over."
The two large stones were placed in the boat, and still Paul was undecided. He had not the courage to face the ridicule of his independent friend, nor the heart to disobey the mother whom he loved and respected.
"I guess I won't go, Tom," said he, as a momentary resolution supported the better impulse of his nature.
"Chicken-hearted! Are you afraid of your mother or of the wind and waves?" sneered Thomas, and his features curled up into an expression of contempt which