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enemies…Conway and his echo； Seth Rodgers； for these two always went
together like a deranged stomach and a headache。
Before the end of the week I had my studies well in hand。 I was a little
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ashamed at finding myself at the foot of the various classes； and secretly
determined to deserve promotion。 The school was an admirable one。 I
might make this part of my story more entertaining by picturing Mr。
Grimshaw as a tyrant with a red nose and a large stick； but unfortunately
for the purposes of sensational narrative； Mr。 Grimshaw was a quiet；
kindhearted gentleman。 Though a rigid disciplinarian； he had a keen sense
of justice； was a good reader of character； and the boys respected him。
There were two other teachers…a French tutor and a writing…master； who
visited the school twice a week。 On Wednesdays and Saturdays we were
dismissed at noon； and these half…holidays were the brightest epochs of my
existence。
Daily contact with boys who had not been brought up as gently as I
worked an immediate； and； in some respects； a beneficial change in my
character。 I had the nonsense taken out of me； as the saying is…some of the
nonsense； at least。 I became more manly and self…reliant。 I discovered that
the world was not created exclusively on my account。 In New Orleans I
labored under the delusion that it was。 Having neither brother nor sister to
give up to at home； and being； moreover； the largest pupil at school there；
my will had seldom been opposed。 At Rivermouth matters were different；
and I was not long in adapting myself to the altered circumstances。 Of
course I got many severe rubs； often unconsciously given； but I bad the
sense to see that I was all the better for them。 My social relations with
my new schoolfellows were the pleasantest possible。 There was always
some exciting excursion on foot…a ramble through the pine woods； a visit
to the Devil's Pulpit； a high cliff in the neighborhood…or a surreptitious low
on the river； involving an exploration of a group of diminutive islands；
upon one of which we pitched a tent and played we were the Spanish
sailors who got wrecked there years ago。 But the endless pine forest that
skirted the town was our favorite haunt。 There was a great green pond
hidden somewhere in its depths； inhabited by a monstrous colony of turtles。
Harry Blake； who had an eccentric passion for carving his name on
everything； never let a captured turtle slip through his fingers without
leaving his mark engraved on its shell。 He must have lettered about two
thousand from first to last。 We used to call them Harry Blake's sheep。
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The Story of a Bad Boy
These turtles were of a discontented and migratory turn of mind； and
we frequently encountered two or three of them on the cross…roads several
miles from their ancestral mud。 Unspeakable was our delight whenever we
discovered one soberly walking off with Harry Blake's initials！ I've no
doubt there are； at this moment； fat ancient turtles wandering about that
gummy woodland with H。B。 neatly cut on their venerable backs。
It soon became a custom among my playmates to make our barn their
rendezvous。 Gypsy proved a strong attraction。 Captain Nutter bought me a
little two…wheeled cart； which she drew quite nicely； after kicking out the
dasher and breaking the shafts once or twice。 With our lunch…baskets and
fishing…tackle stowed away under the seat； we used to start off early in the
afternoon for the sea…shore； where there were countless marvels in the
shape of shells； mosses； and kelp。 Gypsy enjoyed the sport as keenly as
any of us； even going so far； one day； as to trot down the beach into the sea
where we were bathing。 As she took the cart with her； our provisions were
not much improved。 I shall never forget how squash…pie tastes after being
soused in the Atlantic Ocean。 Soda…crackers dipped in salt water are
palatable； but not squash…pie。
There was a good deal of wet weather during those first six weeks at
Rivermouth； and we set ourselves at work to find some indoor amusement
for our half…holidays。 It was all very well for Amadis de Gaul and Don
Quixote not to mind the rain； they had iron overcoats； and were not； from
all we can learn； subject to croup and the guidance of their grandfathers。
Our case was different。
〃Now； boys； what shall we do？〃 I asked； addressing a thoughtful
conclave of seven； assembled in our barn one dismal rainy afternoon。
〃Let's have a theatre；〃 suggested Binny Wallace。
The very thing！ But where？ The loft of the stable was ready to burst
with hay provided for Gypsy； but the long room over the carriage…house
was unoccupied。 The place of all places！ My managerial eye saw at a
glance its capabilities for a theatre。 I had been to the play a great many
times in New Orleans； and was wise in matters pertaining to the drama。 So
here； in due time； was set up some extraordinary scenery of my own
painting。 The curtain； I recollect； though it worked smoothly enough on
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The Story of a Bad Boy
other occasions； invariably hitched during the performances； and it often
required the united energies of the Prince of Denmark； the King； and the
Grave…digger； with an occasional band from 〃the fair Ophelia〃 （Pepper
Whitcomb in a low…necked dress）； to hoist that bit of green cambric。
The theatre； however； was a success； as far as it went。 I retired from
the business with no fewer than fifteen hundred pins； after deducting the
headless； the pointless； and the crooked pins with which our doorkeeper
frequently got 〃stuck。〃 From first to last we took in a great deal of this
counterfeit money。 The price of admission to the 〃Rivermouth Theatre〃
was twenty pins。 I played all the principal parts myself…not that I was a
finer actor than the other boys； but because I owned the establishment。
At the tenth representation； my dramatic career was brought to a close
by an unfortunate circumstance。 We were playing the drama of 〃William
Tell； the Hero of Switze