Read Ebook: Archag the Little Armenian by Schnapps Charles H Waterman Margaret Payson Translator

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Ebook has 707 lines and 35735 words, and 15 pages

rls, and a college. The latter was founded in 1876 by Dr. Trowbridge, a Christian and an elect soul, removed, alas, too soon, from the field of his activity. At the time of which we are speaking, the college had two hundred students, forty of whom were resident pupils. It was well situated, on a hill overlooking the city and the plain.

As soon as Archag had had his passport vis?-ed, he set out for Central Turkey College. From a long distance he could see the great red brick building around which were grouped the houses of the president and professors. The campus was enclosed by a high wall. At the entrance, Archag had a moment's talk with the porter, then the heavy iron-barred gates turned on their hinges, and the lad went up the hill.

Some boys at play in front of the school building looked with curiosity at the newcomer, and our friend went up to one of them and asked in Armenian if he could see Badvili Melikian, who was in charge of the resident students. The boy looked at him in some surprise, and replied in Turkish, bidding Archag follow him.

The pastor was busy writing when the boys entered his office, but his kind face lighted up with a smile, and Archag at once felt drawn toward the good man. The badvili was perhaps about fifty years old, a small man, short and stout; a shock of gray hair escaped from the fez worn like a skull-cap on the back of his head, and every other minute he would try to push this head-covering straight, but the rebellious fez resumed its slanting position. After several years' pastoral work in Asia Minor, Mr. Melikian had been appointed Headmaster at Central Turkey College; here he found himself much more in his element than in his position of preacher, for he had a weakness for young people, and was much attached to this school where he had been one of the first pupils. He shook hands with Archag, and asked if he had had a good journey, enrolled him at once among the Sophomores, and assigned him a place in one of the dormitories.

"We shall be together," said the other boy, whose name was Garabed.

"I'm very glad of that," said Archag, "for you are the only boy I know here."

Then the two boys went back to the play-ground where others joined them, and Archag soon found himself taking part in a lively conversation. They talked about the professors, the president and his wife, of what they had learned, and what they had yet to learn. Then all the Sophomores began playing ball, and kept up the game until they heard the bell ring for supper.

Three tables were spread in the dining-hall; one for the preparatory class, the second for the Freshmen and Sophomores, and the third for the Juniors and Seniors. Archag sat down beside Garabed as Badvili Melikian was saying grace. The fare would no doubt have seemed very frugal to American boys; it consisted of tea, bread, and hard-boiled eggs, but the boys seemed to be satisfied; they dispatched their supper in ten minutes, and then went back to their play, as lessons had not yet begun.

Archag walked about arm in arm with Garabed, who told him his own story. He was a thin, frail-looking lad of seventeen; he had grown too fast, and was round-shouldered. His face was sweet and attractive, but unfortunately his expression was spoiled by a large pair of spectacles which made him look like a little old man. He was a native of Goerum, near Sivas, and had been two years at Aintab.

"I was glad to come back," he said, "for the professors are very nice, and the boys are fine chaps. My father wanted me to go to Marsivan, which is nearer home, but I preferred to return here."

Archag took a liking to Garabed, and talked to him about Van and his family, as if he had been an old friend.

Here the conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of another boy who jumped on Garabed's back, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hi there, Baron Garabed! what stuff are you pouring into the ears of that innocent lamb!"

"I don't care to be compared to a lamb, thank you," said Archag; "they are too stupid."

"Af?rim! Baron Archag," said Garabed, "take Aram down a peg or two."

The new comer, taking Archag by the arm, said to him:

"Come now, Garabed has been telling you all about the masters; let me draw the portrait of some of your classmates. First, the wise Garabed himself, who is the choicest specimen of my acquaintance . Over there you may see two embryo pastors," and he pointed to two stout, stocky boys chatting in a corner, "Soghomon and Boghos , the president's favorites; you may judge for yourself of his good taste. That tall boy, star-gazing, with his hands in his pockets, is a Junior by the name of Ghevont. The boy in European dress, going up to him, is Nejib Rossinian, the son of a doctor in Aleppo; he's in our class, and so is his cousin Dikran; they are an artful pair of dogs, who are bound to make their way, though they don't always consider the means. To-morrow you will have to make the acquaintance of Samouil and Sumpad, whose brain isn't quite right, and the five Urfali who always stick together like burrs. Finally, to complete the list of boarders, my humble self, Aram Nahabedian of Diarbekir, filling the position of clown and joker. There are a dozen day-scholars in our class, besides, but we only see them at recitations."

Archag was laughing heartily; he was delighted with his two companions, and already felt himself among friends. At nine o'clock the bell called them in, and they said "Goodnight" to Badvili Melikian, who had a pleasant word for each, as they went upstairs to their dormitories. Archag was in the room with Aram, Garabed, Soghomon, Nejib and Sumpad. Aram and Nejib immediately began a pillow-fight, making a fearful commotion. Soghomon, the fat boy, half-buried beneath a mountain of pillows and coverlets, lay groaning and beseeching:

"Oh, I say! I'm smothered! 'Vai! Vai! I shall die!' who will take pity on me!"

Aram and Archag executed a wild dance about their victim, and the end of it was that Badvili Melikian was obliged to come and restore order. He lighted a night-lamp for the boys, for Armenians hate the dark. Once in bed, the boys went to sleep immediately, and before long came the sound of their regular breathing, together with Soghomon's snores.

Archag was dreaming that the bells of the Cathedral of Van were calling him to Mass, when a shake roused him from his sleep. Aram was pulling him by the arm.

"Haide, are you never going to wake up, you young mole? Do you think you're going to be allowed to sleep like that? You're as bad as Soghomon; he can't get out of bed."

Archag jumped up and dressed quickly; then the whole troop went down to breakfast. At half-past seven, professors and students all gathered in the chapel where Dr. Mills conducted morning prayers. He spoke to the boys of the child Samuel, urging them to imitate his love for the Lord.

"You come here," said he, "not only to receive your bachelor's degree, which you could get just as well at Constantinople or Damascus or Smyrna, but in order to become good and upright Christian men. We desire that these years of study may be blessed for you, and that later, when you are struggling with the difficulties of life, you may always remember gladly the days you have spent with us here."

He spoke well, and Archag's heart was touched by his words. How many good resolutions he made then, together with his comrades! The course of our story will show whether or not he kept them.

When the speaker had finished, the boys stood up and sang one of their favorite hymns:

"Rab der bis? Kaimi kala Fourtunada ?min meldja. Oi Kayanin Kavourhounda Boulouroum her-den bir meldja."

"The Lord is our strong fortress, A sure refuge in the storm, Beside this Rock I may always find a refuge."

The Sophomores were to begin their work in Natural Science on this morning. The course was given by Professor Pagratian, who was also proctor of their class.

"It's sheer luck that we have him for proctor," said Aram to Archag. "He's a saint come out from his church, an angel descended from heaven. Do you know, he has an aureole about his head like Sourp Hagob in my prayer-book; that's why he never takes off his fez. Last year we had fat Piralian, who is as harsh as a Turkish pasha. He used to make us fail just for the pleasure of it; he teaches English, for he spent several years in Yankeestan. It was so cold down there his heart got frozen."

The arrival of the professor interrupted the flow of Aram's nonsense; he then began to draw a caricature of Mr. Piralian, "Yankee Doodle," as he called him.

Mr. Pagratian was a chilly little man, who kept his cloak wrapped about him in summer and winter. His face was partly hidden by a thick black beard, and a shabby old fez covered his meditative brow, but his luminous black eyes transformed him, banishing any thought of ridicule that might be suggested by his old-fashioned clothing. When these eyes, with their look of goodness, had once been fastened on one, they could never be forgotten. They laid bare one's soul, and seemed to expose one's bad thoughts only to drive them away and forgive them. And his voice--how it would thrill one, now stern and hard, now sweet and tender as that of a father talking with his child! He had a profound love for Natural History; his explanations were clear and interesting and the forty-five minutes in class passed all too quickly for Archag.

Our friend next made the acquaintance of Professor Mahdesian, a reserved, scholarly man, who taught Armenian, and of Mr. Hagopian, the Professor of Turkish. The latter was the veteran of the college; he had been associated with Dr. Trowbridge in founding it thirty years before, devoting himself body and soul to his task. The beginnings had been difficult, partly from lack of funds, but he and the president had met the situation bravely, teaching nine hours a day. Success came; pupils flocked in from the most remote regions of the vast Turkish Empire. The courageous Dr. Trowbridge died before his time, but Professor Hagopian, more favored, was permitted to reap the ample harvest he had sown.

English was the first lesson in the afternoon, and Archag was impatient to see the famous professor of whom Aram had had so much to say. Mr. Piralian was still very young. In order to make himself respected by his pupils he thought it necessary to treat them with an extreme severity, and would never let the slightest peccadillo pass unnoticed. The president often had to remonstrate with him on the subject of the frequent punishments which he inflicted on his pupils. He had spent several years in the United States, and had been a teacher there also. He had become accustomed to the ways of American children, who are notoriously "terrors," and now employed the same methods in dealing with the boys of Aintab that he had found useful with these others. Apart from that he was a capital teacher, and took an interest in his pupils, but he never let them see it.

From the first he was prejudiced against Archag; he had seen him walking about familiarly with Aram, for whom he had an actual antipathy; and that was enough to make him take a dislike to the new-comer. Then, Archag had learned English from a Scotchwoman, Miss Dobbie, who spoke broad Scotch, rolling her r's, aspirating her h's, and saying "auld" for "old." When he began to read, Professor Piralian made fun of his pronunciation, and asked him sarcastically what great professor had taught him English. But Archag, who fairly adored his old teacher, was wounded to the quick at hearing her made an object of ridicule.

After their lessons, the Sophomores, glad of a chance to stretch their legs, went out to play football. They ran about, shouting and pushing each other, with their zoubouns tucked up in their girdles. Archag, after tripping up Soghomon and Garabed, seized the ball and threw it with all his might, but he aimed badly, and the ball went straight through one of the windows of Dr. Spencer's house. The glass fell in splinters, and Archag cried out in consternation.

"The only thing for you to do," said Garabed, "is to go and make your excuses to Mrs. Spencer; go right off now and do it."

Archag was chagrined at his awkwardness, and reluctant to present himself before Mrs. Spencer, as a culprit. But the doctor's wife had seen the accident, and from behind a curtain she watched Archag coming toward the house, and observed his embarrassment. When he entered, and stammered out his apologies, she put him at his ease with a few friendly words:

"You have had a little misfortune, but that is nothing, and you will soon play better. Lessons are over, aren't they, so you can stay and have a cup of tea with me?"

She gave Archag great pleasure by beginning to talk about Van, which she had visited three years before. She inquired for Miss Dobbie, whose guest she had been for a week. Archag's spirits revived; he told a numbers of stories illustrating the old lady's untiring kindness, and Mrs. Spencer listened with interest. She liked the boy's frank countenance and vivacity, and when Archag left, he was completely won, and promised to come again often.

A VISIT TO THE TURKISH BATH

Thursday was an important day in the Sophomore's calendar, for on that day Mihran hodja always took them to the hamam . Garabed, Aram and Archag usually walked in front; Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, as Dikran dubbed them. Archag, who was usually very sensitive, only laughed at this pleasantry, he was so happy with his two new friends. Garabed was really his favorite; to him he could confide his inmost thoughts, and tell his pleasures and his troubles, sure of finding pity and sympathy. Garabed was the eldest of eight children; one after another, he had seen all his brothers and sisters die, the victims of tuberculosis. These bereavements and the sadness that pervaded his home, had invested him with a certain melancholy which he had never been able to shake off entirely. His teachers found him too quick, I was almost going to say too wise, for his years. Archag, overflowing with life and spirits, occasionally found him depressing, and at such times he enjoyed the companionship of his other friend, with whom he could run, jump, and tussle to his heart's content for Aram was the life and soul of the class, and though his comrades might stand in fear of his raillery, they also admired his unwearied good nature and fearless courage.

It was he, as usual, who took the lead in the conversation on this Thursday, and his friends were content to listen, and laugh at his sallies.

"Great news!" said he. "We are going to have a new professor of French."

"What?" cried Garabed. "Isn't President Mills going to teach us any more?"

"No."

"Well, then, who is this new teacher?" asked Archag.

"Guess."

"Mr. Hagopian?"

"No."

"Mr. Pagratian?"

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