This essential lesson is one that too many never learn. When we are witnesses of skill in anything, too many forget that this skill is the result of long thought, labour and perseverance. We too often fail to recollect the hours of wearying labour that have been devoted to the acquirement of those qualifications which, when seen in the results, are much admired. The mathematician or geometrician who attains to eminence must have devoted many years’ labour to these subjects, whilst the artist, musician or writer must also have laboured many weary years before he attained even to mediocrity. Even those who excel in games of skill, such as chess, draughts, whist, billiards, cricket, or rackets, must be men who think deeply, and reason on what they see others do, as well as on what they do themselves. When, then, we see excellence in anything, those who have themselves arrived at excellence appreciate skill in others, because ever before them is the idea of the hard work and hard thought that most have been gone through before proficiency could be reached. Those, however, who never have worked to any purpose, who have idled all their lives and failed to attain even mediocrity in anything, usually fail to appreciate in others excellence or skill, and when, after long perseverance and thought, any successful results have been won, idlers not unfrequently term such a result “good luck.” When I had seen Howard, and had been impressed by his apparent knowledge and skill on all subjects, I was ambitious at once of being like him. In my ignorance I fancied that just as I grew taller by no thought or trouble, so I might become an officer like him by merely allowing time to work out its course. That I should have to labour, to work my brain in a manner I had never before even dreamed of, had never occurred to me. Now, however, I began to realise the fact that I was a dunce, and that my brain was feeble merely from want of use, and that I was not capable of competing with other boys of my own age, because their brains had been active and used when mine had been merely idle. I was like a horse suddenly taken up from grass, and worked with one that had been thoroughly trained for many months. My brain was flabby and feeble, without that vigour which is requisite for any mental labour. I could feel a presentiment that there was even a greater exposure of my ignorance coming than had yet taken place. Under the most favourable circumstances of quiet which I enjoyed at home, a long-division sum always took me some time, and, though I was supposed to know as far as fractions in arithmetic, yet I was very shaky in a rule-of-three sum, and I knew that, hustled as I was at Hostler’s, I should breakdown at what perhaps I might accomplish if left quietly to myself. I found that it was downright exhaustive work to remember the definitions before me. I knew them for a minute, then they left me, and as I realised my state I buried my head in my hands, and felt overcome with despair.
Suddenly the door opened, and Hostler appeared and said, “Now, Shepard, do you know your definitions?”
“No, sir,” I replied; “it is very hard for me to learn them.”
I expected him to take me out for my three cuts, but instead of this he sat down beside me and said, “Now, look here; you’ve got to learn how to learn. I see you’re been a spoiled child – your mother’s pet, I suppose – and have never worked at all, only just fudged on. Now you begin really, and of course it’s all new to you. Now just listen to me.”
“Please, sir,” I said, “my mother died when I was a baby, and I never was what you call spoiled by her.”
“Ah, well, I’m very sorry I said that, but of course I didn’t know it; never mind, now try and follow me. A point is that which has no parts and no magnitude – that means, that it’s only an imaginary spot, without any size about it. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Then a line is length without breadth – that is, if I draw an imaginary line from here to the moon, that line has length, but it has no breadth. Now think over these, and learn them again to-morrow, and you may go out and join the other boys in the playground.”
It was quite a relief to me to have this conversation with Mr Hostler, for I felt that I could learn after a time, though at first I experienced all the difficulties of novelty in everything I attempted.
Chapter Four
Experiences at School – My First Fight
On entering the playground I saw about forty boys amusing themselves in various ways. Some were jumping with a pole, others were leaping over a tape, whilst several were talking in groups. As I approached the ground, I heard several boys call out, “Here he is!”
“Now where’s Fraser?” whilst eight or ten boys came round me, and seemed looking at me as a curiosity.
“You’re going to be an engineer, aren’t you?” said one boy.
“Yes,” I replied.
A shout of laughter was the result of this remark of mine, the reason for which I could not comprehend.
“You’re very clever, I suppose,” said the same boy; “an awful hand at Swat.”
“I can do rule-of-three,” I replied.
“Lor! what a clever fellow!” replied the boy. “I say,” he shouted, “Ansell, James, come here! We have a Sir Isaac Newton here!”
As he called, four or five boys came up and joined the others near me.
“He’s going to be an engineer,” said the same boy; “and he knows rule-of-three! Isn’t he likely to get them?”
“Where have you come from?” asked another boy.
“From the New Forest, Hampshire,” I replied.
“Then you’d better go back to the New Forest, Hampshire, and feed the pigs there.”
“You are very rude,” I said, “to speak like that.”
A shout of laughter greeted this speech, whilst the same boy intimated that I was “a confounded young prig!”
“Oh, here you are!” said Fraser, who suddenly appeared on the scene. “I’ve been looking for you. What do you mean by shying a book at me?”
“Why, you kicked me for no reason at all,” I replied. “It is I who have cause to complain of you.”
“Oh, you have, have you? then take that?”
Before I knew what was going to be done, Fraser suddenly struck me full in the face. The blow was so severe that for a second or two I scarcely knew what had happened. Then, however, I realised the fact, and, rushing at Fraser, I struck wildly at him. Without seeming to disturb himself much, Fraser either guarded off my blows or quickly dodged so as to avoid them; and when he saw an opportunity, as he soon did, he punished me severely.
Fraser was smaller than I was, but was certainly stouter, and he possessed what I did not, viz, skill in the use of his fists. This was the first fight I had ever been in, whilst he was an old hand at pugilistic encounters. The result, consequently, was what might be expected, viz, in ten minutes I was entirely beaten, all my strength seemed gone, and I was unable to raise a hand in my defence.
“Don’t you shy a book at me again,” said Fraser as he left me leaning against the wall, trying to recover myself.
“Bravo, Fraser! well done!” said one or two boys who had formed a ring round us as we fought. Not a boy seemed to pity me, or to be disposed to help me, and I felt as utterly miserable as a boy could feel.
As I leant against the wall, with my handkerchief to my nose, a boy named Strong came up and said, —
“You’d better wash the blood off your
