Although he was marked high for scholarly attainment, he received many a bad mark for violating the rules of school.
This state of affairs existed until the boy had reached the age of eleven years, when he was brought into contact with two diametrically opposite influences, one of which was calculated to _make_ and the other to mar his future character and fortunes.
Henry Glazier.--A singular character.--"Kaw-shaw-gan-ce" and "Quaw-taw-pee-ah."--Tom Lolar and Henry Glazier.--Attractive show-bills.--Billy Muldoon and his trombone.--Behind the scenes.--"Sound your G!"--The mysterious musician.--What happened to Billy.--"May the divil fly away wid ye!"
At this time there resided in the paternal homestead a younger brother of Ward Glazier named Henry, who was Willard's senior by about eleven years, and, physically speaking, was a splendid specimen of masculine development. Like his brothers Ward and George, he stood six feet in his stockings, and literally looked down on his fellows.
He had conceived a great liking for his nephew Willard, and on many a hunting excursion in the Great North Woods, the boy was his only companion. This affection, however, was not unmingled with some contempt for the lad's diminutive stature.
Upon one occasion, during a visit to West Boylston, he made it his business to search out the relatives of Willard's mother, in order to ascertain what sort of stock she came from. On returning home, this son of Anak exclaimed, with a dejected air:
"Mother, I'll be hanged if I ain't discouraged! Our Willard will always be a little runt. His mother's folks ain't bigger'n a pinch of snuff!"
How far the prediction has been verified any one who has seen the compact, sinewy form of the young soldier will understand.
Henry Glazier reveled in everything sensational. His ideal of heaven was a succession of tableaux in which he was to play the principal part.
At one time he joined another eccentric character named Tom Lolar, an Indian of the Seneca tribe, whose lands in the long ago of Indian history bordered the blue waters of Lake Seneca in central New York. This peculiar pair proceeded to electrify certain rural communities in their immediate neighborhood with huge posters, announcing that on a given night:
