The Bondage of Ballinger | Page 3

time and the smallness of the
communities, to say nothing of a quiet and not disagreeable persistence,
which amused the celebrities with whom he came in contact. He could
say with truth as well as pride that he had walked and talked with Mr.
Emerson rather timidly perhaps and had assisted that great man in
minor duties of a domestic nature. He had plucked the hem of Miss
Fuller's gown, and on more than one occasion had paid himself the
compliment of carrying her parcels. For such distinguished services he
had several pages of manuscript, duly signed, to show. He had
permitted Mr. Thoreau to accept him as a companion on certain notable
excursions, and had discussed with him various topics of natural
history. He had formed the acquaintance of Mr. Channing, with
difficulty, but contrived to profit by such association in the customary
channels. He had tapped maple-trees with Mr. Alcott, and indulged in
polite but fragmentary discourse with the abstracted Mr. Hawthorne
through the picket fence. He had stood on the bridge, and at sundry
other places, with Mr. Longfellow, run on occasional errands for Mr.
Lowell, and acquired an almost convivial familiarity with Dr. Holmes.
He knew the gentle Mr. Whittier and loved him, was the devoted
boyish champion of Lucy Larcom, and would have buffeted the waves
far across to the Isles of Shoals had it been necessary in order to reach
Celia Thaxter.

In all these youthful adventures he never forgot the paternal advice, and
as he was a bright-faced boy, with an alert mind, and a shrewd but
respectful insistence, he soon added materially to his library and to the
value of his possessions. The young collector was happily not content
with the mere pleasure of acquisition, but eagerly devoured every book
that came into his possession with an interest considerably sharpened
by his personal acquaintance with its author. In this he soon verified the
predictions of the father. But if Thomas Ballinger was a student, he
gave very little indication of the practical benefit of his reading, for in
all the busy circle of shrewd, restless, energetic inhabitants of the New
England village, none was so incapable of action as the schoolmaster's
son. If sent on an errand, he might he found thirty minutes later curled
up in a corner of the fence, reading the book he surreptitiously carried
in his pocket or inside his shirt. If sent to drive home the cow, the cow,
weary of waiting, came home without him. Had he been told to run for
the doctor he would have considered his mission accomplished if he
ran toward the doctor's. Any incidental diversion or distraction of a
literary nature was enough to obliterate the object in view. The
schoolmaster himself was obliged to confess that, so far as indications
served, Thomas was cut out for a failure, while the townspeople ranked
him in the list of impossibilities, and held him up to their own children
as a terrifying example of shiftlessness.
As the smallness of the family purse demanded that there should be no
gentleman bcarder in the household, Master Tom was informed that he
was now at an age when he must contribute to the general fund, and it
was furthermore hinted that he might choose among the various means
of livelihood in the village. And as any kind of hard manual labor was
repugnant to his disposition, he expressed an unwillingness to decide so
important a question for himself; accordingly he was apprenticed to the
blacksmith, and he lasted two days. In turn, and with amazing celerity,
he was unloaded on the apothecary, the grocer, the carpenter, the
wheelwright, and every trade functionary in the township, but in each
case the beneficiary reported with equal promptness that he "guessed
Tom M better try suthin' else." Then in a glimmer of hope that he might
be able to impart to others some of the book knowledge he appeared to
be constantly acquiring, the schoolmaster procured his appointment to

the pedagogue's chair in a district school. But the scholars soon
perceived his weakness, and cunningly drawing him into controversies
on literary topics, so disposed of the school hours that the curriculum
was practically neglected. And one day, when he had failed to report at
nine o'clock, and the hours crept on to ten, and then to eleven, two of
the older scholars were sent to investigate, and they found Master Tom
comfortably propped up in bed, his nose dipping into a book and his
mind revelling in flights wholly unconnected with his paid professional
duties. This was too much for the board of trustees sitting on Tom as a
delinquent, and he was dismissed with as much disgrace as so
preoccupied a culprit could take upon himself. So in desperation the