# Half a Dozen Boys/Chapter 16
### CHAPTER XVI.
#### A LITERARY EVENING.

The I. I. Club
Requests you to be present on Saturday evening, October 29th, at its semi-annual meeting. Essays will be read, to show the work of the club.
These invitations were scattered broadcast among fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, and Saturday evening was eagerly awaited by the young clubbists.
It was now more than four weeks since Sam had left the boys, and although they missed him sadly and mourned for him most sincerely, there seemed to Bess no reason that the five lads should give up their long-talked-of festival. She was sure that Sam, unselfish as he had always shown himself, would not wish it otherwise. His memory had become a tender centre for all their highest, noblest thoughts and talks, and the five rarely came together without speaking of him, sometimes laughing ​quietly at the funny adventures they had had with him, but more often dwelling with a boyish pride on the courage and manliness that showed in his every act. It was always, “Sam is,” Sam does;” never the dreadful “was” and “did,” that past tense which seems to separate our friends from us by an impassable barrier. Bess encouraged this feeling of nearness, for she loved to have the boys feel that their friend had only left them as if for a little journey, and they would soon meet him again. It was the first time they had learned the real meaning of death, and it had been a terrible blow to them all, but the tender, loving memory, and the thought that their friend was always watching over them, had a sweet, helpful influence on their young lives. No one had been asked to fill his place in the club, but instead, when the lads were discussing the details of their open meeting, Sam’s tastes and wishes were followed as closely as if he had been still among them.
Saturday evening found the Carters’ large rooms well filled, and at exactly half-past seven Bess, followed by the five boys, took her place ​on a small raised platform at the end of the room. Each one wore a white carnation in his buttonhole, from which hung the badge of membership, a silver interrogation point, Fred’s gift. Four of them were armed with impressive rolls of manuscript, while Fred carried a large, loose bunch of roses that, with Bessie’s help, he placed before a picture of Sam that stood on a small table in their midst.
Then, in a few words, Bess reminded the audience of the object and work of the club. Of what it had done in the past six months, they could judge by the evening’s entertainment; the secret of what its members would do in the future lay hidden in the boys themselves. She added a few tender words, referring to the member who had left them, and then, after saying that the essays were the work of the boys, and that she had not even seen them, she introduced as the first reader. Master Philip Cameron.
Phil rose with a rather sheepish giggle, hastily smoothed down his scalp-lock that would stand aggressively erect, bowed to the audience, and announced his subject.
“GOLD.
“Gold is a yellow metal that we are all familiar with, though not as much so as we should like to be. It is used for money and for ornaments, and is very precious. It is found in a great many places in the world, and a great deal in a place, but people always wish there was some more of it. The most interesting place to us is in California. It was discovered there in 1848 by three men, partly Mormons. It was their daughter that found it and picked it up and said what a pretty stone. They tried to keep it a secret, but of course they couldn't, and pretty soon everybody was going to California.
“At least, not everybody,” explained Phil conscientiously, as he looked up from his paper, “but ever and ever so many people.” Then he resumed,—
“The State was soon full of people, and it was admitted to the Union.
“There are a good many ways of gold-mining. Sometimes the mines are in veins in the hard rock. Then the miners bore down ​to them and dig out the rock, and break it up fine to get out the gold, just as they do silver. Another way is to find it in the loose sand in the bottoms of rocks and in gravel. When the miners first went out, they used to take a little gravel in a dish with some water, and shake it hard, so a little would slop over each time. The gold was heavy and would sink and stay after all the rest had gone. They called it ‘panning out well’ when there was a lot left in the dish. Now they turn brooks to run over a row of troughs with holes scooped out in the bottoms, and the gold drops into the holes, and the other stone goes on. Then there is hydraulic mining. They turn a stream of water against the side of a hill and wash it all down to start with, and then they put it through the troughs just the same way.
“Gold is soft when it is pure, so they have to mix it with other metals to keep it from wearing out. They call that alloying it. We tell how pure gold is by the number of carats. Twenty-four is pure, but eighteen is very fine.
“I have only one thing more to say. When you say a person has ‘sand,’ or courage, that ​comes from gold-mining. When a miner saw a certain kind of sand, he always knew that gold was mixed with it underneath.”
And Phil sat down, amidst a hum of applause.
“Next comes Master Herbert Walsh,” announced Bess, from her chair of office.
“We had an evening of the old Greek myths,” began Bert, by way of introduction, “and I thought I’d take for my subject
“THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR.
“Ever and ever so long ago there was a king of Athens that had a son named Theseus. This son didn’t live with him, but with his mother, somewhere else; but when he was strong enough he lifted up a great rock, and found under it a sword with a gilt handle, and a pair of shoes. They had been left there for him by his father till he was strong enough to pry up the rock and get them. So he put them on, and started for Athens. He had a good many adventures on the way, with robbers, and a bed that opened and shut, and a wild pig, but at last he came to Athens, and his father was ​glad to see him, but his nephews weren’t, for they wanted the crown themselves. But they had to go away with their mother, Medea, and Theseus had all the right to the throne.
“But in that country an expedition to Crete was prepared every year, to send fourteen young gentlemen and young ladies to the Minotaur, a sort of bull that looked like a man, a little. He was a pet of Minos, the king of Crete, and used to eat them up. Well, when Theseus heard about it, he said he’d go, too, and try to kill the beast. So they sailed away in a schooner with black sails and jibs and all, but Theseus promised his father that if he killed the Monitor, he’d put up white sails to come home with. They passed a brassy giant on the way, but when he found out where they were going, he let them pass without hurting them.
“They came to Minos, the king of Crete, and while he was looking them over to see if they were fat, Theseus was so saucy to him that Minos said he should be the first meal for the Monitor—Minotaur, I mean. But Minos had a daughter, Ariadne, who was in love with ​Theseus as soon as she saw him, and she let Theseus out of his prison, and led him to the labyrinth where the Moni—Minotaur lived. They had a ball of twine, and they tied one end to the gate-post, and then unwound it as they went in, so they could find their way out, for the walks crisscrossed every way so they would have been apt to get lost. When they came to the Minotaur, Ariadne stood back and cried, but Theseus had an awful fight with him and killed him. Then they came out, hauling in their line as they went along. They let out their friends, and he married Ariadne; and they went off on board their boat, but in their hurry they forgot to take the white sails out of the hold and hoist them, so the poor old king, who was keeping watch, died of broken heart, because the schooner came back with black sails, and he supposed Theseus was eaten up.
“My friends, I think there are two morals to this story. First, keep your promises; and, second, it is a very good thing to fall in love.”
A great clapping of hands greeted Bert’s somewhat unexpected close. When quiet was restored, Bess said,—
​“Master Frederic Allen will talk to us next.” And then she gave an anxious glance at the boy, to see how he would bear this ordeal.
It seemed impossible that this could be the same Fred who, less than a year ago, had been shutting himself up, away from all his friends, and brooding sadly over his blindness, because it had spoiled his life. With only a slight touch of shyness, he stood there so easily, with one hand resting on the back of the chair in which Bessie was sitting, and his whole face bright with the laugh he had just been enjoying over Bert’s remarkable moral.
“I am going to try to tell you a little bit about that fossil over there,” he began, while Bess silently pointed to a superb fossil fish that lay on a side table. “It came from high up in the Rocky Mountains, and people used to wonder how it could get there, so high above water, but now they know. You see, the earth used to be just a great ball of melted rock, whirling around in the air, and growing cool over the outside. But as it grew cool and hard, deeper and deeper down, the core seemed to shrink. ​and so the outside began to wrinkle, just like a dried-up old winter apple. And because it was colder than the air, the water condensed on the earth like steam on a cold window, and it all ran down into the low places, so there was an ocean where the Rocky Mountains are now. That was where this fish lived. He died, and his body sank down, and the sand washed in on top of it and grew hard. But the earth kept shrinking and making new wrinkles, till by and by they had changed places, and the Rocky Mountains were high up out of the water, and the fish was left there in the rock.”
There was a perfect quiet while Fred was speaking, for all those present knew the boy’s sad story, and marvelled at the change in him. But as he turned back to his chair, there came a hearty burst of applause, not so much for the little talk, as for the boy himself who had made such a bold fight against his trouble.
“Master Robert Atkinson” was the next announcement from the mistress of ceremonies.
Rob shyly came forward and made his best bow, as he gave his subject.
“LEPIDOPTERA.
“That means moths and butterflies. It comes from two words that mean scale and wing, because the foundation of their wings is covered with little bits of scales that lap over each other like shingles on a roof, and give the color, instead of their being gray, like a fly. They are the prettiest of all the insects, and there are a great many kinds of them, but they all go in two classes: the butterflies, that fly in the daytime; and the moths, that come out at night. You can tell the difference when they settle, too, for the butterflies fold up their wings till they meet, straight up over their backs, and the moth’s wings lie flat. Their ‘feelers,’ or antennæ, that are supposed to be to hear with, are different, too. In the butterflies, they are largest at the end; but in the moths they are larger in the middle or next the head, and sometimes they look just like two little feathers.
“All these moths and butterflies live twice. First they are a worm or caterpillar, and then in the fall they spin themselves up into a silk ball. ​It is very funny to see them. They hang themselves up head down from the corner of a fence, or some such place, and spin round and round, leaving themselves in the middle. They lie like that ever so long, and then they hatch out and eat their way through. They have to take good care of themselves while their wings are growing, for fear something will eat them up.
“In the silkworm, they wait till they have spun, and then they bake the cocoons to kill the animal inside, or else he would eat out. Then they unwind the silk. Each one lays about six or seven hundred eggs, so they can afford to kill a few.
“Some of the insects of this class are not so pleasant to have. The canker-worm belongs to it, and so does the moth that gets into houses and eats up woollen things.
“All caterpillars change their skins several times, getting a new one whenever it outgrows the old one. Some caterpillars have great appetites. One kind eats every day twice as much cabbage leaf as it weighs, as if I ate one hundred and seventy-five pounds of beef a day.”
Rob’s somewhat mixed assortment of facts ​was listened to with a profound attention that was most gratifying. Ted, as the last speaker, came forward with a smile of calm assurance, before his name was called. Unrolling his manuscript, which proved to be a single strip
of paper about three inches wide and four feet long, he bowed cheerfully to the audience, and began his theme.
“NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
“Napoleon Bonaparte was born in 1768, and died in May, 1821. He was born in Corsica, and was sometimes called ‘the ogre of Corsica,’ after he was dead, and they dared to. He was a very great general and a very bad man, but he did a few good things. When he was eleven years old, he began going to a military school, and when he was twenty-eight he was put at the head of forty thousand men, and he began to beat the enemy right off. In two years, he had won eighteen pitch battles. The way he came to have such a good position was because at Toulon, in a siege, he was the only man who could point the guns right to have them go into the city. That made him famous. ​Well, he conquered Italy and Sardinia and Austria and Egypt. But that wasn’t enough for him, so he came home for a little while, and went into politics. He made himself first consul of France when he was only twenty-nine. Five years later, in 1804, he made the pope crown him emperor. Then he went on conquering countries, and putting his own relations on the throne—they didn’t have any civil-service reform then—till he had most everything but England and Russia in the family. And at home he made a few good laws, and straightened out things where the revolution had mixed them up. But in 1812 he made an expedition to Russia, and there he was beaten. Then, till 1814, he had ever so many defeats, and finally was arrested and sent to Elba. He was there about a year, and then ran away and came back to France. When he came, the king they had put on the throne ran away, and all his old soldiers came back to him. But on June 17th, 1815, they fought the battle of Waterloo. Napoleon was beaten and captured and carried clear down to St. Helena, where they kept an eye on him till he died; and I say it served him right.”
​While Teddy was reading, Bess had seated herself at the piano. When he finished, she played the opening bars of “Fair Harvard,” as the boys rose, joined hands, and made a low bow to the audience. Then they began to sing.
“Dear friends, now this evening you’ve seen our I. I.,
And we leave you to judge of its work.
Of its many good times we will tell by and by;
For as pills under sugar coats lurk,
We must each do our work, ere we share in the play,
For such does our club make its rule ;
And many’s the lesson we learn day by day,
In this jolliest kind of a school.
We have wandered o’er many a subject ere this,
And our six months have been full well spent;
We no longer sit down and talk nonsense and fun.
For on learning we’re all of us bent.
So we solemnly talk of the pagans and worms,
Of minerals, planets, and snakes.
We speak of the glory of Washington’s fame.
Of cormorants, Zulus, and lakes.
But we all have a wish to impart from our store;
To improve those around us is kind;
So we’ve called you together, and made you a feast
Of crumbs from each overstocked mind.
And now, our dear friends, we thank you indeed.
Your attention has been most polite.
Six months from this time we’ll invite you again ;
In the mean time, we wish you good-night.”