But there is little to be hoped from a man who is completely under the
influence of ignorance and rum. Mr. Lacey was the son of a small
farmer like himself, and never had anything to recommend him but his
fine looks, which had captivated poor Mrs. Lacey to her cost. Unlike
the majority of his class, who are fast becoming a very intelligent
part of the community, and are glad to educate their children, he
boasted that he liked the "old ways," and by these he meant the worst
ways of his father's day, when books and schools were scarce, and few
newspapers found their way to rural homes. He was, like his father
before him, a graduate of the village tavern, and had imbibed bad
liquor and his ideas of life at the same time from that objectionable
source. With the narrow-mindedness of his class, he had a prejudice
against all learning that went beyond the three R's, and had watched
with growing disapprobation his son's taste for books, believing that
it would spoil him as a farm hand, and make him an idle dreamer. He
was less and less inclined to work himself as his frame became
diseased and enfeebled from intemperance, and he determined now to get
as much work as possible out of that "great hulk of a boy," as he
called Arden. He had picked up some hints of the college hopes, and
the very thought angered him. He determined that when the boy broached
the subject he would give him such a "jawing" (to use his own
vernacular) "as would put an end to that nonsense." Therefore both
Arden and his mother, who were waiting as we have described in such a
perturbed anxious state for his entrance, were doomed to bitter
disappointment. At last a heavy red-faced man entered the kitchen,
stalking in on the white floor out of the drizzling rain with his
muddy boots leaving tracks and blotches in keeping with his character.
But he had the grace to wash his grimy hands before sitting down to
the table. He was always in a bad humor in the morning, and the chilly
rain had not improved it. A glance around showed him that something