Oscar Part 1

Oscar.

by Walter Aimwell.

PREFACE.

In the story of OSCAR is portrayed the career of a bright but somewhat headstrong boy, who was over-indulged by his parents, and who usually managed to "have his own way," by hook or by crook. The book is designed to exhibit some of the bad consequences of acquiring a wayward and lawless spirit, and of falling into indolent, untruthful, and disobedient habits. These are its main lessons, intermingled with which are a variety of others, of scarcely less importance to the young.

_Winchester, Ma.s.s._

ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.

"PRECEPTS MAY LEAD BUT EXAMPLES DRAW."

"THE AIMWELL STORIES" are designed to portray some of the leading phases of juvenile character, and to point out their tendencies to future good and evil. This they undertake to do by describing the quiet, natural scenes and incidents of everyday life, in city and country, at home and abroad, at school and upon the play-ground, rather than by resorting to romantic adventures and startling effects. While their main object is to persuade the young to lay well the foundations of their characters, to win them to the ways of virtue, and to incite them to good deeds and n.o.ble aims, the attempt is also made to mingle amusing, curious, and useful information with the moral lessons conveyed. It is hoped that the volumes will thus be made attractive and agreeable, as well as instructive, to the youthful reader.

Each volume of the "Aimwell Stories" will be complete and independent of itself, although a connecting thread will run through the whole series.

The order of the volumes, so far as completed, is as follows:--

I. OSCAR; OR, THE BOY WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY.

II. CLINTON; OR, BOY-LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.

III. ELLA; OR, TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF.

IV. WHISTLER; OR, THE MANLY BOY.

V. MARCUS; OR, THE BOY-TAMER.

VI. JESSIE; OR, TRYING TO BE SOMEBODY.

OSCAR.

CHAPTER I.

A KITCHEN SCENE.

Bridget, the Irish servant girl, had finished the house-work for the day, and sat down to do a little mending with her needle. The fire in the range, which for hours had sent forth such scorching blasts, was now burning dim; for it was early in October, and the weather was mild and pleasant. The floor was swept, and the various articles belonging in the room were arranged in their proper places, for the night. The mistress of the kitchen,--for Bridget claimed this as her rank, if not her t.i.tle,--was humming a queer medley of tunes known only to herself, as her clumsy fingers were trying to coax the needle to perform some dextrous feat that it did not seem inclined to do in her hands. What she was thinking about, is none of our business; but whatever it was, her revery was suddenly disturbed, and the good nature that beamed from her face dispelled, by the noisy clattering of more than one pair of little boots on the stairs. In a moment, the door opened with a jerk and a push, and in bounded three boys, with as little display of manners or propriety as so many savages might exhibit. The oldest directed his steps to the closet, singing, as he peered round among the eatables:

"Eggs, cheese, b.u.t.ter, bread,-- Stick, stock, stone-dead."

"Biddy," he continued, "I 'm hungry--give me something to eat, quick."

Bridget paid no attention to this demand, but only twitched her needle with a little more energy.

"I say, Biddy," continued the boy, "what did you have for supper?

Come, give me some, I 'm half starved."

"And why did n't ye come when the supper was ready, if ye wanted any?"

said Bridget. "If ye won't ate with the rest, it's not me that will wait upon ye, Master Oscar."

"Well," continued Oscar, "if you won't help me, I guess I can help myself. Ralph, what did you have for supper?"

The boy addressed named over several articles, among which were cake and mince-pie, neither of which could Oscar find in the closet.

"Where did you put the pie, Biddy?" he inquired.

"It 's where ye won't find it," replied Bridget, "that's jist where it is."

"I bet I _will_ find it, come now," said Oscar, with a determined air; and he commenced the search in earnest, prying into every covered dish, opening every drawer and bucket, and overhauling and disarranging every part of the closet. Bridget was just then in too irritable a mood to bear this provoking invasion of her realm with patience. In an angry tone, she ordered the intruder to leave the closet, but he took no notice of the command. She repeated the order, making it more emphatic by calling him a "plague" and a "torment," but he did not heed it.

Then she threatened to tell his parents of his misconduct, but this had no effect. Oscar continued his search for some minutes, but without success; and he finally concluded to make his supper of bread and b.u.t.ter, since he could find nothing more tempting to his appet.i.te.

The fact was, Oscar was getting in the habit of being absent from his meals, and calling for food at unseasonable hours, much to the annoyance of Bridget. She had complained of this to his mother several times, without effect; and now she thought she would try a little expedient of her own. So, when she cleared away the supper-table that evening, before Oscar came home, she hid away the cake and pies with which the others had been served, and left only bread and b.u.t.ter in the closet. She gained her end, but the boy, in rummaging for the hidden articles, had made her half an hour's extra work, in putting things to rights again.

As Oscar stepped out of the closet, after his solitary supper, he moved towards the youngest of the other boys, saying:

"Here, George, open your mouth and shut your eyes, and I 'll give you something to make you wise."

George declined the gift, but Oscar insisted, and tried to force it upon him. A struggle ensued, and both rolled upon the floor, the one crying and screaming with anger, and the other laughing as though he considered it good fun. George shut his teeth firmly together, but Oscar succeeded in rubbing enough of the mysterious article upon his lips to enable him to tell what it was. It proved to be a piece of pepper, a plate of which Oscar had found in the closet.

This little experiment, however, did not leave George in a very pleasant frame of mind. It was some time before he got over his blubbering and pouting. Oscar called him a "cry-baby," for making such a fuss about a little bit of pepper, which epithet did not aid him much in forgetting the injury he had received.

After awhile, quiet and harmony were in a measure restored. Ralph and George got their school-books, and began to look over the lessons they were to recite in the morning; but Oscar not only remained idle, himself, but seemed to try to interrupt them as much as possible, by his remarks. By-and-bye, finding they did not take much notice of his observations, he took from his jacket pocket a small tin tube, and commenced blowing peas through it, aiming them at his brothers, at Bridget, and at the lamp. Ralph, after two or three had taken effect on his face, got up in a pet, and took his book up stairs to the sitting-room. George scowled and scolded, as the annoying pellets flew around his head, but he did not mean to be driven away by such small shot. Bridget, too, soon lost her patience, as the peas rattled upon the newly-swept floor.

"Git away with yer pays, Oscar," said she; "don't ye be clutterin' up the clane floor with 'em, that's a good b'y."

"They aint 'pays,' they are _peas_," replied Oscar; "can't you say peas, Biddy?"

"I don't care what ye call 'em," said Bridget; "only kape the things in yer pocket, and don't bother me with 'em."

"Who 's bothering you?" said Oscar; "me 'pays' don't make any dirt--they 're just as clean as your floor."

"Ye 're a sa.s.sy b'y, that's jist what ye are."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Faith, if it was me that had the doin' of it, I bet I 'd larn ye better manners, ye great, impudent good-for-nothin', if I had to bate yer tin times a day."

"You would n't, though, would you?" said Oscar; and he continued the shower of peas until he had exhausted his stock, and then picked most of them up again, to serve for some future occasion. He had hardly finished this last operation, when his mother, who had been out, returned home. As soon as she entered the kitchen, George began to pour out his complaints to her.

"Mother," he said, "Oscar 's been plaguing us like everything, all the evening. He got me down on the floor, and rubbed a hot pepper on my mouth, and tried to make me eat it. And he's been rummaging all round the kitchen, trying to find some pie. And then he went to shooting peas at us, and he got Bridget real mad, and Ralph had to clear out, to study his lesson. I told him--"

"There, there, George, that will do," replied his mother; "I am sick of hearing these complaints. Oscar, why is it that I can't stir out of the house, when you are at home, without your making trouble with Bridget or the children? I do wish you would try to behave yourself properly. You are getting the ill-will of everybody in the house, by your bad conduct. I really believe your brothers and sisters will begin to hate you, before long, if you keep on in this way. For your own sake, if for nothing more, I should think you would try to do better. If I were in your place, I would try to keep on good terms with my brothers and sisters, if I quarrelled with everybody else."

Oscar made no reply to this, and the subject was soon dropped. His mother was too much accustomed to such complaints of his misconduct, to think very seriously of them; and he was himself so used to such mild rebukes as the foregoing, that they made little impression upon his mind. The boys, who all slept in one chamber, soon retired for the night; but Oscar took no further notice of the occurrences of the evening, except to apply the nickname of "mammy's little tell-tale" to George--a t.i.tle of contempt by which he often addressed his little brother.