Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was
surveying his drenched garments by the light of a
tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea
of making any “references to allusions,”
he thought better of it and held his peace, for there
was danger in Tom’s eye.
Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers,
and Sid made mental note of the omission.
The sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed
down upon the peaceful village like a benediction.
Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship:
it began with a prayer built from the ground up of
solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together
with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit
of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic
Law, as from Sinai.
Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went
to work to “get his verses.” Sid
had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all
his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and
he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because
he could find no verses that were shorter. At
the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea
of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing
the whole field of human thought, and his hands were
busy with distracting recreations. Mary took
his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his
way through the fog:
“Blessed are the—a—a—”
“Poor”—
“Yes—poor; blessed are the poor—a—a—”
“In spirit—”
“In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit,
for they—they—”
“Theirs—”
“For theirs. Blessed are the poor
in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they—they—”
“Sh—”
“For they—a—”
“S, H, A—”
“For they S, H—Oh, I don’t
know what it is!”
“Shall!”
“Oh, shall! for they shall—for
they shall—a—a—shall
mourn—a—a— blessed
are they that shall—they that—a—they
that shall mourn, for they shall—a—shall
what? Why don’t you tell me, Mary?—what
do you want to be so mean for?”
“Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I’m
not teasing you. I wouldn’t do that.
You must go and learn it again. Don’t you
be discouraged, Tom, you’ll manage it—and
if you do, I’ll give you something ever so nice.
There, now, that’s a good boy.”
“All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what
it is.”
“Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say
it’s nice, it is nice.”
“You bet you that’s so, Mary. All
right, I’ll tackle it again.”
