Bert Lloyd's Boyhood Part 24

About this time Bert made the acquaintance of a pony of a very different sort. How, indeed, it came to have this name does not seem to be very clear, for what natural connection can be established between a diminutive horse, and a discreditable method of reducing the difficulties of a lesson in Latin or Greek? It would appear to be a very unjust slur upon a very worthy little animal, to say the least.

Bert's first knowledge of the other kind of pony was when in the course of his study of Latin he came to read Sall.u.s.t. Caesar he had found comparatively easy, and with no other aid than the grammar and lexicon he could, in the course of an hour or so, get out a fair translation of the pa.s.sage to be mastered. But Sall.u.s.t gave him no end of trouble.

There was something in the involved obscure style of this old historian that puzzled him greatly, and he was constantly being humiliated by finding that when, after much labour, he had succeeded in making some sort of sense out of a sentence, Dr. Johnston would p.r.o.nounce his translation altogether wrong, and proceed to read it in quite another way.

As it happened, just when Bert was in the middle of those difficulties, Mr. Lloyd was called away from home on important business which entailed an absence for many weeks, and consequently Bert was deprived of his a.s.sistance, which was always so willingly given.

He had been struggling with Sall.u.s.t for some time, and was making but very unsatisfactory headway, when one day, chancing to express to Regie Selwyn his envy of the seeming ease with which the latter got along, Regie looked at him with a knowing smile, and asked:

"Don't you know how I get my translation so pat?"

"No," replied Bert; "tell me, won't you?"

"Why, I use a pony, of course," responded Regie.

"A pony!" exclaimed Bert, in a tone of surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come now," said Regie, with an incredulous smile. "Do you mean to say that you don't know what a pony is?"

"I do, really," returned Bert. "Please tell me, like a good fellow."

"Come along home with me after school, and I'll show you," said Regie.

"All right," a.s.sented Bert; "I will."

Accordingly, that afternoon when school had been dismissed, Bert accompanied Regie home, and there the latter took him to his room, and produced a book which contained the whole of Sall.u.s.t turned into clear, simple English.

"There," said he, placing the volume in Bert's hands; "that's what I mean by a pony."

Bert opened the book, glanced at a page or two, took in the character of its contents, and then, with a feeling as though he had touched a serpent, laid it down again, saying:

"But do you think it's right to use this book in getting up your Sall.u.s.t, Regie?"

Regie laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Where's the harm, my boy. If you can't translate old Sall.u.s.t by yourself, you can't, that's all, and you've got to wait for Dr. Johnston to do it for you. Now, mightn't you just as well get it out of this book at once, and save all the trouble," he argued, glibly.

This was very fallacious reasoning, but somehow or other it impressed Bert as having a good deal of force in it. The simple truth was that he was willing to be convinced. But he did not feel quite satisfied yet.

"Then, of course, you never look at it until you have done your best to get the lesson out without it?" he asked.

"That depends. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't," answered Regie, in a tone that implied very plainly that the latter "sometimes" occurred much more frequently than the former.

Bert took up the book again and fingered it thoughtfully.

"Could I get one if I wanted to?" he asked, presently.

"Why, of course," answered Regie. "There are many more at Gossip's where I got this, I guess."

Bert said no more; and the two boys soon began talking about something else.

For some days thereafter Bert was in a very perplexed state of mind. It seemed as though "the stars in their courses" were fighting not against, but in favour of his getting a "pony" for himself. His father's absence was indefinitely prolonged, the Sall.u.s.t grew more and more difficult, and demanded so much time, that Bert's chance of winning one of the prizes for general proficiency was seriously jeopardised.

Instead of dismissing the subject from his mind altogether, he fell to reasoning about it, and then his danger really began, for the more he reasoned, the weaker his defences grew. There seemed so much to be said in favour of the pony; and, after all, if he did not resort to it until he had done his best to work out the translation unaided, what would be the harm?

Clearly Bert was in a perilous position. Right and wrong were strongly contending for the victory, and much would depend upon the issue of the conflict.

CHAPTER XXVI.

VICTORY WON FROM DEFEAT.

Bert had reached an age and stage of development when the raising of a decided issue between right and wrong was a matter of vital consequence.

Although he had little more than rounded out a dozen years of life, his natural bent of mind and the influences surrounding him had been such as to make him seem at least two years older when compared with his contemporaries. He thought much, and, considering his age, deeply. His parents had always admitted him into full fellowship with themselves, and he had thus acquired their way of thinking upon many subjects. Then his religious training had been more than ordinarily thorough. The influences and inspiration of a Christian home had been supplemented and strengthened by the teaching at Sunday school of one who possessed a rare gift in the management of boys. Mr. Silver not only understood his boys: he was in hearty and complete sympathy with them; and the truth came from him with peculiar force, as he met them Sunday after Sunday.

Bert therefore would appear to have everything in his favour when set upon by the tempter, and it might seem strange that in this case he should dally so long with the danger. But the fact is there were unusual elements in this temptation, such as have been already set forth, and Bert's course of action from the time when he first saw the translation of Sall.u.s.t in Regie Selwyn's room, until when at length after days of indecision, of halting between two opinions, of now listening to, and again spurning the suggestions of the tempter, he had a copy of the same book hidden away in his own room, was but another ill.u.s.tration of the familiar experience, that he who stops to argue with the tempter, has as good as lost his case.

He tried hard to persuade himself that it was all right, and that it would be all right, but nevertheless it was with none too easy a conscience that he slipped into Gossip's one afternoon, and timidly inquired for the Sall.u.s.t translation. The clerk did not understand at first, and when he asked Bert to repeat his question a cold shiver went down the boy's back, for he felt sure the man must have divined his purpose in procuring the book. But, of course, it was only an unnecessary alarm, and soon with the volume under his arm, and breathing much more freely, he was hastening homeward.

At first he kept very faithfully to the programme he had laid down of not resorting to the "pony" until he had done his best without it. Then little by little he fell into the way of referring to it whenever he was at a loss regarding a word, until at last he came to depend upon it altogether, and the fluent translations that won Dr. Johnston's approbation day after day were really nothing better than stolen matter.

Yet all this time he was far from having peace of mind. That troublesome conscience of his acted as though it would never become reconciled to this method of studying the cla.s.sics. On the contrary, it seemed to grow increasingly sensitive upon the point. Finally the matter was brought to a head in a very unsuspected manner.

No mention has been made in these pages of one who occupied a very large place in Bert's affection and admiration--namely, the Rev. Dr. Chrystal, the pastor of Calvary Church. Dr. Chrystal was a man of middle age and medium height, with a countenance so winning and manners so attractive, that Mr. Lloyd was wont to call him St. John, the beloved disciple, because his name was John, and everybody who knew him loved him. It was not merely by the elders of his congregation, who could fully appreciate the breadth and soundness of his scholarship, the richness of his rhetoric, and the warmth of his eloquence, but by the younger members also, who loved his sunny smile, and hearty laugh, that Dr. Chrystal was little short of worshipped.

Bert had been his warm admirer ever since the time when on his pastoral visits he would take the little fellow up on his knee, and draw him out about his own amus.e.m.e.nts and ambitions, giving such interested attention to his childish prattle that Bert could not fail to feel he had in him a real friend. As he grew older, his liking for the minister deepened. He never had that foolish fear of "the cloth" which is so apt to be found in boys of his age. Dr. Chrystal was a frequent visitor at Bert's home.

Mr. Lloyd was one of the main supporters of his church, and the two men had much to consult about. Besides that, the preacher loved to discuss the subjects of the day with the keen-witted, far-seeing lawyer, who helped him to many a telling point for the sermon in preparation.

This, of course, was quite beyond Bert, but what he could and did fully appreciate was the skill and strength with which Dr. Chrystal, having laid aside his clerical coat, would handle a pair of sculls when he went out boating with them, in the fine summer evenings.

"I tell you what it is, Frank," said he, enthusiastically to his friend one day. "There's nothing soft about our minister. He can pull just as well as any man in the harbour. That's the sort of minister I like.

Don't you?"

One Sunday evening, after Bert had been using his "pony" some little time--for although his father had returned, he had come so to depend upon it, that he continued to resort to it in secret--Dr. Chrystal preached a sermon of more than usual power from the text, "Provide things honest in the sight of all men." It was a frank, faithful address, in which he sought to speak the truth in tenderness, and yet with direct application to his hearers. If any among them were disbelievers in the doctrine that honesty is the best policy, and acted accordingly, they could hardly hope to dodge the arrows of argument and appeal shot forth from the pulpit that evening.

Bert was one of the first to be transfixed. When the text was announced he wriggled a bit, as though it p.r.i.c.ked him somewhere; but when, further on, Dr. Chrystal spoke in plain terms of the dishonesty of false pretences, of claiming to be what you really are not, of seeking credit for what is not actually your own work, Bert's head sank lower and lower, his cheeks burned with shame, and, feeling that the speaker must in some mysterious way have divined his guilty secret, and be preaching directly at him, he sank back in his seat, and wished with wild longing that he could run away from those flashing eyes that seemed to be looking right through him, and from the sound of that clear, strong voice, whose every tone went straight to his heart.

But, of course, there was no escape, and he had to listen to the sermon to the end, although, had it been possible, he would gladly have thrust his fingers in his ears that he might hear no more. He felt immensely relieved when the service was over, and he could go out into the cool, dark evening air. He was very silent as he walked home with his parents, and so soon as prayers were over went off to his room, saying that he was tired.

For the next few days there was not a more miserable boy in Halifax than Cuthbert Lloyd. He was a prey to contending feelings that gave him not one moment's peace. His better nature said, "Be manly, and confess." The tempter whispered, "Be wise, and keep it to yourself." As for the cause of all this trouble, it lay untouched in the bottom drawer of his bureau. He could not bear to look at it, and he worked out his Sall.u.s.t as best he could, causing Dr. Johnston much surprise by the unexpected mistakes he made in translating. He became so quiet and sober that his mother grew quite concerned, and asked him more than once if he felt ill, to which, with a pretence of a laugh, he replied:

"Not a bit of it. I'm all right."

But he wasn't all right, by any means, as his father's keen eyes soon discovered. Mr. Lloyd, like his wife, thought at first that Bert's queer ways must be due to ill health; but after watching him awhile he came to the conclusion that the boy's trouble was mental, rather than physical, and he determined to take the first opportunity of probing the matter.

The opportunity soon came. Mrs. Lloyd and Mary were out for the evening, leaving Bert and his father at home. Bert was studying his lessons at the table, while his father sat in the arm-chair near by, reading the paper. Every now and then, as he bent over his books, Bert gave a deep sigh that seemed to well up from the very bottom of his heart. Mr. Lloyd noted this, and presently, laying his paper down, said, pleasantly: