Kitabı oku: «Rollo's Museum», sayfa 5

THE BAILMENT CASES

As the boys were slowly coming up the lane, towards the house, they saw Mary and Lucy in the garden. They went round into the garden to see what they were doing.

They found them seated upon a bench in a pleasant part of the garden; it was the same bench were Rollo had once undertaken to establish a hive of bees. Mary was teaching Lucy how to draw pictures upon lilac leaves, and other leaves which they gathered, here and there, in the garden.

The boys came up and asked to see what the girls were doing. The girls did not say to them, as girls sometimes do in such cases, ‘It is none of your concern,—you go off out of the garden, we don’t want you here.’ They very politely showed them their leaf sketches,—and the boys, at the same time, with equal politeness, offered them some of their raspberries. In the course of the conversation, as they sat and stood there, Rollo said to his sister,

“Henry lost my fish, Mary, and ought he not to pay me?”

“Your fish?” asked Mary.

“Yes,” said Rollo, “I caught a fish in a dipper.”

“And how came Henry to have it?”

“O, I let him have it, to catch another. He made me.”

Henry had some secret feeling that he had not done quite right in the transaction, though he did not know exactly how he had done wrong. He did not make any reply to Rollo’s charge, but stood back, looking somewhat confused.

“Ought he not to pay me?” repeated Rollo.

“It seems to be a case of bailment,” said Mary.

“O yes,” said Rollo, who now recollected his father’s conversation on that subject some days before.

“And so, you know, the question,” continued Mary, “whether he ought to pay or not, depends upon circumstances.”

“Well,” said Rollo, who began to recall to mind the principles which his father had laid down upon the subject, “it was for his benefit, not mine, and so he ought to pay.”

All this conversation about bailment, and about its being for his benefit, not Rollo’s, was entirely unintelligible to Henry, who had never studied the law of bailment at all. He looked first at Mary, and then at Rollo, and finally said,

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

So Mary explained to him what her father had said. She told him, first, that whenever one boy intrusted his property of any kind to the hands of another boy, it was a bailment; and that the question whether the one who took the thing ought to pay for it, if it was lost, depended upon the degree of care he took of it, considered in connection with the question, whether the bailment was for the benefit of the bailor, or the bailee.

“What is bailor and the bailee?” said Henry.

“Why, Rollo bailed you his fish,” said Mary. “Rollo was bailor, and you bailee.”

“No,” said Henry, “he only gave me back my dipper, and the fish was in it.”

Mary asked for an explanation of this, and the boys related all the circumstances. Mary said it was an intricate case.

“I don’t understand it exactly,” said Mary. “You returned him his property which you had borrowed, and at the same time put into his hands some property of your own. I don’t know whether it ought to be considered as only giving him back his dipper, or bailing him the fish.”

“I did not want the fish,” said Henry.

“No,” said Mary. “It is a knotty case. Let us go and ask father about it.”

“O, I don’t want to go,” said Henry.

“Yes, I would,” said Mary. “I’ll be your lawyer, and manage your side of the question for you; and we will get a regular decision.”

“Well,” said Henry, reluctantly. And all the children followed Mary and Lucy towards the house.

They found Rollo’s father in his room, examining some maps and plans which were spread out upon the table before him. When he saw the children coming in, he asked Mary, who was foremost, what they wanted. She said they had a law question, which they wanted him to decide.

“A law question?” said he.

“Yes,” she replied; “a case of bailment.”

“O, very well; walk in,” said he.

There was a sofa at one side of the room, and he seated the children all there, while he drew up his arm-chair directly before them. He then told them to proceed. Rollo first told the whole story, closing his statement by saying,

“And so I let him have my fish; and that was a bailment, and it was not for my benefit, but his, and so he ought to have taken very especial care of it. But he did not, and lost it, and so he ought to pay.”

“But we maintain,” said Mary, “that the fish was not bailed to Henry at all. Rollo only gave him back the dipper, and, though the fish was in it, still the fish did not do Henry any good, and so it was not for his benefit.”

“It seems to be rather an intricate case,” said her father, smiling.

Henry looked rather sober and anxious. The proceedings seemed to him to be a very serious business.

However, Rollo’s father spoke to him in a very kind and good-humored tone, so that, before long, he began to feel at his ease. After hearing a full statement of the case, and all the arguments which the children had to offer on one side or the other, Rollo’s father began to give his decision, as follows:—

“I think that Rollo’s giving Henry the dipper, with the fish in it, was clearly a bailment of the fish; that is, it was an intrusting of his property to Henry’s care. It is clear also that Henry took pretty good care of it. He tried to avoid losing it. He took as much care of it, perhaps, as he would have done of a fish of his own. Still, he did not take very extraordinary or special care of it. The loss was not owing to inevitable accident. If the bailment was for Rollo’s benefit, the care he took was sufficient to save him from being liable; but, if it was for his own benefit, then all he did was at his own risk; and the loss ought to be his loss, and he ought to pay for it.”

“But I don’t see,” said Mary, “that he was to blame in either case.”

“O, no,” said his father; “he was not to blame for losing the fish, perhaps. That is not the point in these cases. It is not a question of who is to blame, but who ought to bear a loss, for which perhaps nobody is to blame.

“And you see,” he continued, “that it is reasonable that the loss should be borne by the person who was to have derived benefit from the risk. If the risk was run for Henry’s benefit, then he ought to bear the loss; which he would do by making Rollo compensation. If the risk was run for Rollo’s benefit, then Rollo ought to bear the loss himself.”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “and it certainly was for Henry’s benefit, for he was trying to catch another fish for himself,—not for me. I had no advantage in it.”

“That is not so certain,” replied his father. “It depends altogether upon the question, who had a right to the dipper at that time. If Henry had a right to the dipper, then he might have even poured out the water, fish and all; or he might have kept the fish in, to accommodate Rollo. On the other hand, if Rollo had a right to the dipper then, and he let Henry have it, as a favor to him, then, in that case, the bailment was for Henry’s benefit.”

“Well, sir,” said Henry, “I had a right to the dipper, for it was mine; and so it was for his benefit, and I ought not to pay.”

“No, sir,” said Rollo; “he had let me have it, and I let him have my basket.”

“I only lent it to him,” said Henry.

“But you lent it to me for the whole walk,” said Rollo, turning round to Henry.

“You must only speak to me,” said his father. “In all debates and arguments, always speak to the one who is presiding.”

“Well, sir,” said Rollo, turning back to his father, again, “he lent it to me for the whole walk, and so I don’t think he had any right to take it back again.”

“That is coming to the point exactly,” said his father. “It all depends upon that,—whether Henry had a right to reclaim his dipper at that time, after only lending it to Rollo. And that, you see, is another bailment case. Henry bailed Rollo the dipper. This shows the truth of what I said before, that a great many of the disputes among boys arise from cases of bailment. This seems to be a sort of doubled and twisted case. And it all hinges on the question whether Henry or Rollo had the right to the dipper at the time when Henry took it. For, as I have already explained, if Henry had a right to it, then his keeping Rollo’s fish in it was for Rollo’s advantage, and Rollo ought to bear the loss. But if Rollo had a right to keep the dipper longer, then he bailed the fish to him, in order to be able to let him have the dipper, for he could not let him have the one without the other; and so it was for Henry’s benefit; and, as the loss was not from inevitable accident, Henry ought to bear it.”

“Well, sir, and now please to tell us,” said Mary, “who had the right to the dipper.”

“Rollo,” said her father.

“Rollo!” exclaimed several voices.

“Yes,” replied Rollo’s father. “There is a principle in the law of bailment which I did not explain to you the other day. It is this: Whenever a person bails a thing to another person, for a particular purpose, and receives a compensation for it, the bailor has no right to take it back again from the bailee, until a fair opportunity has been allowed to accomplish that purpose. For instance, if I go and hire a horse of a man to make a journey, I have a right to keep the horse until the journey is ended. If the owner of the horse meets me on the road, fifty miles from home, it is not reasonable, you see, that he should have the right to take the horse away from me there, on the ground that it is his horse, and that he has a right to him wherever he finds him. So, if one boy lends another his knife to make a whistle with, he ought not to take it away again, when the boy has got his whistle half done, and so make him lose all his labor.”

“Why, it seems to me he ought to give it back to him,” said Rollo, “if it is his knife, whenever he wants it.”

“Yes,” replied his father, “he ought to give it up, no doubt, if the owner claims it; and yet perhaps the owner might do wrong in claiming it. Though I am not certain, after all, how it is in case a thing is lent gratuitously.”

“What is gratuitously?” said Rollo.

“Why, for nothing; without any pay. Perhaps the bailor has a right to claim his property again, at any time, if it is bailed gratuitously, though I am not certain. I will ask some lawyer when I have an opportunity. But when a thing is let for pay, or bailed on contract in any way, I am sure the bailor ought to leave it in the hands of the bailee, until the purpose is accomplished; or, at least, until there has been a fair opportunity to accomplish it.

“Wherefore I decide that, as Henry intended to let Rollo have the dipper for the whole expedition, and as he took Rollo’s basket, and Rollo agreed to let him have some drink, as conditions, therefore, he ought not to have reclaimed the dipper. Since he did reclaim it, Rollo did perfectly right to give it up, fish and all; and as he did so, it was a bailment for the benefit of the bailee, that is, Henry. And of course it was at his risk, and, in strict justice, Rollo has a right to claim compensation for the loss of his fish. But then I should hope he won’t insist upon it.”

“Well, sir,” said Rollo, “I don’t care much about it now.”

“You see, Henry,” continued Rollo’s father, “I haven’t been talking about this all this time on account of the value of the fish, but to have you understand some of the principles you ought to regard, when any other’s property is in your possession. So, now, you may all go.”

“Well, uncle,” said James, as the children rose from their seats, “haven’t you got some great box that we can have for our cabinet?”

“Your cabinet?” asked his uncle.

“Yes, sir, we want to make a museum.”

“Why, Rollo has got a cabinet. Jonas made him one.”

“Yes, sir; but he wants his for himself, and we want one for our society.”

“You may have mine, now,” said Rollo; “I am not going to have one alone. I have concluded to let you have mine. Come.”

So Rollo moved on, as if he wished to go. In fact, he had an instinctive feeling that his conduct in respect to the cabinet and the society would not bear examination, and he wanted to go.

But his father, afraid that Rollo had been doing some injustice to his playmates, stopped the children and inquired into the case. The children told him that they had formed a society, and had elected Jonas cabinet keeper; and that Rollo had afterwards said he meant to be cabinet keeper himself, and so would not let the society have his cabinet to keep their curiosities in.

“And did he first agree that the society might have it?”

“No, sir,” said Rollo, decidedly; “I did not agree to any thing about it.” He thought that this would exonerate him from all blame.

“Was not there a tacit agreement?” asked his father.

“A tacit agreement!” repeated Rollo. He did not know what a tacit agreement was.

“Yes,” said his father, “tacit means silent; a tacit or implied agreement is one which is made without being formally expressed in words. If it is only understood by both parties, it is just as binding as if it were fully expressed. For instance, if I go into a bookstore, and ask the bookseller to put me up certain books, and take them and carry them home, and then he charges them to me in his books, I must pay for them: for, though I did not say any thing about paying for them, yet my actions constituted an implied agreement to pay. By going in and getting them, under those circumstances, I, in fact, tacitly promise that I will pay for them when the bookseller sends in his bill. A very large portion of the agreements made among men are tacit agreements.”

The children all listened very attentively, and they understood very well what Rollo’s father was saying. Rollo was considering whether there had been a tacit agreement that the society should have the cabinet; but he did not speak.

“Now, Rollo, did you consent to the formation of the society?”

“Yes, sir,” said Henry, eagerly; “he asked us all to form the society.”

“And was it the understanding that the museum was to be kept in the cabinet that Jonas made?”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo, rather faintly.

“Then, it seems to me that there was a tacit agreement on your part, that if the children would form the society and help you make the collection, you would submit to whatever arrangements they might make about the officers and the charge of the cabinet. You, in fact, bailed the cabinet to the society.”

“Yes, sir,” said the children.

“And as the bailment was for your advantage, as well as theirs, you ought not to have taken possession of the property again, until a fair opportunity had been afforded to accomplish the purpose of the bailment, that is, the collection of a cabinet by the society. So, you see, you fell into the same fault in respect to the society, that Henry did in regard to you in the case of the dipper.”

The children were silent; but they all perceived the justice of what Rollo’s father had said.

“And the society have a claim upon you, Rollo, for compensation for the disappointment and trouble you have caused them by taking away the cabinet.”

Rollo looked rather serious.

“O, we don’t care about it,” said Lucy.

“Well,” said his father, “if the society release their claim upon you, as you did yours upon Henry, very well. I hope, at all events, you will all go on pleasantly after this.”

The children then went out, and Rollo, followed by the other boys, went to find Jonas, to tell him he might be cabinet keeper. They tried to tell Jonas the whole story, and about Rollo’s giving the fish to Henry, and its being a bailment. But they could not make Jonas understand it very well. He said he did not know any thing about bailment, except bailing out boats—he had never heard of bailing fishes.

THE CURIOSITIES

Jonas accepted the office of cabinet keeper. He inquired particularly of the children about the meeting of the society, and, as they stated to him the facts, he perceived that Rollo had been a good deal disappointed at not having been chosen to any office. Jonas was sorry himself that Rollo could not have had some special charge, as it was his plan at the beginning, and the others had only joined it at his invitation. When he observed, also, how good-naturedly Rollo acquiesced,—for he did at last acquiesce very good-naturedly indeed,—he was the more sorry; and so he proposed to Rollo that he should be assistant cabinet keeper.

“I shall want an assistant,” said Jonas, “for I have not time to attend to the business much; I can give you directions, and then you can arrange the curiosities accordingly; and you can help me when I am at work there.”

Rollo liked this plan very much; and so Jonas said that he might act as assistant cabinet keeper until the next meeting of the society, and then he would propose to them to choose him regularly. He told Mary of this plan, and she liked it very much indeed.

The children had various plans for collecting curiosities. They had meetings of the society once a week, when they all came into the play room, bringing in with them the articles which they had found or prepared. These articles were there exhibited and admired by all the members, and then were put upon the great work-bench, under the care of the assistant cabinet keeper. They remained there until Jonas had time to look them over, and determine how to arrange them. Then he and Rollo put them up in the cabinet, in good order.

Mary did not collect many articles herself; but she used to tell the children what they could get or prepare. They made some very pretty collections of dried plants at her suggestion. They would come to her, as she sat in the house at her work, and there she would explain to them, in detail, what to do; and then they would go away and do it, bringing their work to her frequently as they went on. In respect to collections of plants, she told them that botanists generally pressed them, and then fastened them into great books, between the leaves, arranged according to the kinds.

“But you,” said she, “don’t know enough of plants to arrange them in that way,—and, besides, it would be too great an undertaking for you to attempt to prepare a large collection. But you might make a small collection, and select and arrange the flowers in it according to their beauty.”

Lucy said she should like to do this very much, and so Mary recommended to her to go and get as many flowers as she could find, and press them between the leaves of some old book which would not be injured by them. Lucy did so. She was a week or two in getting them ready. Then she brought them to Mary. Mary looked them over, and said that many of them were very pretty indeed, and that she could make a very fine collection from them.

“Now,” said she, “you must have a book to keep them in.”

So Mary went and got two sheets of large, light-colored wrapping paper, and folded them again and again, until the leaves were of the right size. Then she cut the edges.

“Now,” said Mary, “I must make some false leaves.”

“False leaves!” said Lucy; “what are they?”

“O, you shall see,” replied Mary.

She then cut one of the leaves which she had made into narrow strips, and put these strips between the true leaves at the back, where they were folded, in such a manner, that, when she sewed the book, the false leaves would be sewed in with the true. But the false leaves, being narrow strips, only made the back thicker. They did not extend out into the body of the book between the leaves; but Mary showed Lucy that when she came to put in her flowers between the true leaves, it would make the body of the book as thick as the back. They would make it thicker, were it not for these false leaves.

“Yes,” said Lucy, “I have seen false leaves in scrap books, made to paste pictures in. I always thought that they made the leaves whole, first, and then cut them out.”

“No,” said Mary, “that would be a great waste of paper. It is very easy to make them by sewing in narrow strips.”

Mary then asked Lucy to sit up at the table, and select some of her prettiest flowers,—some large, and some small,—enough to fill up one page of her book; and then to arrange them on the page in such a way as to produce the best effect; and Lucy did so. Then she gummed each one down upon the page, by touching the under side, here and there, with some gum arabic, dissolved in water, but made very thick. When she had done one page, she turned the leaf over very carefully, and laid a book upon it, and then proceeded to make selections of flowers for the second page. In this manner she went on through the book, and it made a very beautiful book indeed. Mary put a cover and a title-page to it; and on the title-page, she wrote the title, thus:—

A

COLLECTION

OF

COMMON FLOWERS,

BY

LUCY

When it was all ready, it was presented to the society, and put into the cabinet, where it was long known by the name of “Lucy’s Collection.” She wrote the name of each plant under it, as fast as she could find out the names; and, whenever visitors came to see the museum, she would ask them the name of any of the flowers in her collection which she did not know, and then wrote the name down. Thus, after a time, nearly all the names were entered; and so, whenever the children found any flower which they did not know, they would sometimes go and look over Lucy’s collection, and there perhaps they would find the very flower with its name under it.

This museum lasted several years; and the next spring, Rollo made his collection of flowers, which was larger than Lucy’s. Mary helped him about it. At first, he was going to have it in a larger book; but Mary thought it would be better to have all the books of a size, and then they would lie together very compactly, in a pile; which would not be the case if they had several books of different sizes. She said if any one wanted to make a larger collection, he had better have several volumes. Rollo made volume after volume, until at last his collection consisted of six.

There was one collection of leaves; Henry made it. His object was to see how many different-shaped leaves he could get. He did not regard the little differences which exist between the leaves of the same tree, but only the essential differences of shape; such as between the leaf of the oak and of the maple. Two or three pages were devoted to leaves of forest-trees, and they looked very beautiful indeed. Leaves, being naturally flat, can be pressed very easily, and they generally preserve their colors pretty well. One page was devoted to the leaves of evergreens, such as the pine, fir, spruce, hemlock; and they made a singular appearance, they were so small and slender. A little sprig of pine leaves was put in the centre, and the others around. Then there were the leaves of fruit-trees and plants, such as the apple, pear, peach, plum, raspberry, strawberry, currant, gooseberry, &c., arranged by themselves; and there were half a dozen pages devoted to bright-colored leaves, gathered in the autumn, after the frost had come. These pages looked very splendidly. The names of the plants to which all these leaves belonged were written under them, and also the name given by botanists to indicate the particular shape of the leaf; these names the children found in books of botany. Such, for instance, as serrated, which means notched all around the edge with teeth like a saw, like the strawberry leaf; and cordate, which means shaped like a heart, as the lilac leaf is, and many others.

There was also a collection of brakes that Rollo made, which the children liked to look over very much. There is a great variety in the forms of brakes, or ferns, and yet they are all regular and beautiful, and are so flat that they are easily pressed and preserved. But of all the botanical collections which were formed and deposited in this museum, one of the prettiest was a little collection of petals, which Rollo’s mother made. Petals are the colored leaves of flowers,—those which form the flower itself. Sometimes the flower cannot be pressed very well whole, and yet, if you take off one of its petals, you find that that will press very easily, and preserve its color finely. So Rollo’s mother, every day, when she saw a flower, would put one of the leaves into a book, and after a time she had a large collection,—red, and white, and blue, and yellow, and brown, in fact, of almost every color. Then she made a little book of white paper, because she thought the colors and forms of these delicate petals would appear to better advantage on a smooth, white ground. She then made a selection from all which she had preserved, and arranged them upon the pages of her little book, so as to bring a great variety both of form and color upon a page; and yet forms and colors so selected that all that was upon one page should be in keeping and harmony.

But it was not merely the botanical collections in the museum which interested the children. They had some philosophical apparatus. There was what the boys called a sucker, which consisted of a round piece of sole leather, about as big as a dollar, with a string put through the middle, and a stop-knot in the end of it, to keep the string from coming entirely through; then, when the leather was wet, the boys could just pat it down upon a smooth stone, and then lift the stone by the string; the sucker appearing to stick to the stone very closely. Rollo did not understand how the sucker could lift so well; his father said it was by the pressure of the atmosphere, but in a way that Rollo was not old enough to understand.

Then there was what the boys called a circular saw, made of a flat, circular piece of lead, as large as the top of a tea cup. Jonas had hammered it out of a bullet. There were saw-teeth cut all around the circumference, and two holes bored through the lead, at a little distance from the centre, one on each side. There was a string passed through these holes, and then the ends were tied together; and to put the circular saw in motion, this string was held over the two hands, as the string is held when you first begin to play cat’s-cradle. Then, by a peculiar motion, this saw could be made to whirl very swiftly, by pulling the two hands apart, and then letting them come together again,—the string twisting and untwisting alternately, all the time. There were various other articles of apparatus for performing philosophical experiments; such as a prism, a magnet, pipes for blowing soap bubbles, a syringe, or squirt-gun, as the boys called it, made of a reed, which may be said to be a philosophical instrument.

Jonas made a collection of specimens of wood, which was, on the whole, very curious, as well as somewhat useful. As he was at work sawing wood from day to day, he laid aside small specimens of the different kinds; as oak, maple, beech, ash, fir, cedar, &c. He generally chose small, round pieces, about as large round as a boy’s arm, and sawed off a short piece about three inches long. This he split into quarters, and reserved one quarter for his specimen, throwing the others away. This quarter had, of course, three sides; one was covered with bark, and the other two were the split sides. As fast as Jonas got these specimens split out in this manner, he put them in the barn, upon a shelf, near the bench; and then, one day, he took them one by one, and planed one of the split sides of each, and then smoothed it perfectly with sand paper.

Rollo, who was standing by at the time, asked him why he did not plane them all around.

“O, because,” said Jonas, “they are for specimens, and so we want them to show the bark on one side, and the wood on the other side, in its natural state; and the third side is enough to show its appearance when it is manufactured.”

“Manufactured!” said Rollo.

“Yes,” said Jonas; “planed and varnished, as it is when it is made into furniture.”

“Are you going to varnish the sides that you plane?”

Jonas said he was; and he did so. He planed one side, and one end. He varnished the planed side, and pasted a neat little label on the planed end. On the label he wrote the name of the wood, and some very brief account of its qualities and uses, when he knew what they were. For instance, on the end of the specimen of walnut, was written in a very close but plain hand—

Walnut, very tough and hard. Used for handles

After Jonas had got as many specimens as he could, from the wood pile, he used to cut others in the woods, when he happened to be there, of kinds which are not commonly cut for fuel. In this way he got, after a time, more than twenty different kinds, and when they were all neatly varnished and labelled, it made a very curious collection; and it was very useful, too, sometimes; for whenever the boys found any kind of a tree in the woods which they did not know, all they had to do, was to cut a branch of it off, and bring it to the museum, and compare it with Jonas’s specimens. In this way, before long, they learned the names of nearly all the trees which grew in the woods about there.

There was a curious circumstance which happened in respect to Rollo’s hemlock-seed. It has already been said that this supposed hemlock-seed was really a chrysalis. Now, a chrysalis is that form which all caterpillars assume, before they change into butterflies; and the animal remains within, generally for some time, in a dormant state;—all the time, however, making a slow progress towards its development. Now, Rollo’s great chrysalis remained in a conspicuous position, upon the middle shelf in the cabinet, for some weeks. Rollo always insisted, when he showed it to visitors, that it was a hemlock-seed. Jonas said he knew it was not; and he did not believe it was any kind of seed. But then he confessed that he did not know what it was, and Rollo considered that he had his father’s authority for believing it to be a hemlock-seed, because his father had said he thought it might be so, judging however only by Rollo’s description, without having seen it at all. Rollo always asserted very confidently that it was a hemlock-seed, and that he was going to plant it the next spring.

In the mean time, the humble caterpillar within, unconscious of the conspicuous position to which he had been elevated, and the distinguished marks of attention he received from many visitors, went slowly on in his progress towards a new stage of being. When the time was fully come, he very coolly gnawed a hole in one end of his glossy shell, and laboriously pushed himself through, his broad and beautiful wings folded up compactly by his side. When he was fairly liberated, he stood for two hours perfectly silent and motionless upon the shelf, while his wings gradually expanded, and assumed their proper form and dimensions. It was rather dark, for the doors were closed; and yet sufficient light came through the crevices of Jonas’s cabinet, to enable him to see the various objects around him, though he took very little notice of them. It was a strange thing for him to be shut up in such a place, with no green trees, or grass, or flowers around; but having never turned into a butterfly before, he did not know that there was any thing unusual in his situation.