Curiosity Read Online Free PDF Page A

retreat from the cares and woes of the world. The Parsonage had been a real refuge. This place was merely a compressed, claustrophobic version of the larger world, with all the same troubles and tiresome tasks but without the comfort of family and familiar surroundings.
    The only thing my new life had in common with the old one was the emphasis on prayer and religious services. The first order of the day was morning worship in the chapel. This was followed by an hour or two of studies; our textbook was something called Moral Recreations in Prose and Verse . Dickens, it was not, or even Catherine Sedgwick. I still recall one bit of doggerel that we committed to memory:
    Whatever your diversions are
    Pursue them all with proper care
    And never till your task is done
    To any play attempt to run.
    It was accompanied by a woodcut of two boys. I remember it clearly because one of the boys had a bit of a stoop, and at first I thought, Well, there’s another fellow like me; I’m not the only one. Then I realized the reason for his hunched posture: The two were playing leapfrog, and the other boy was about to vault over him.
    At seven we finally broke our fast with porridge and butter bread, then worked at our appointed jobs until dinner. Some of the boys did bookbinding, some made brass nails or umbrellas or furniture; I was fit only to wind weaving yarn onto bobbins. It was such a repetitive task, I had plenty of time to think.
    I thought about my missed meeting with Mulhouse; whatever he had in mind for me, it must be better than winding bobbins. Certainly the money would be better, for here we received no pay at all. I thought about my father, who told me how much he looked forward to my visits; I could not visit him now, nor could I provide him with a bed or food. And I thought about chess. I had played it every day of my life from the age of four, and I keenly felt the loss, the way a drunk must feel when deprived of the bottle.
    After dinner there were more lessons, then four more hours of work, then supper, then even more lessons, followed by evening prayers. Oh, I nearly forgot: Before the evening classes, we were given a full half hour for recreation.
    Naturally, the older boys’ favorite recreation was to torment the younger ones. They reserved their meanest pranks for the colored boys. The place held perhaps a hundred lads of all ages, from six to twenty. Only a dozen or so were black, and most of those were quite young; I believe it was usual to treat Negroes above the age of thirteen or fourteen as adults and send them to prison, no matter how minor their crime.
    On my third day there—or it may have been my fourth; I lost all track of time—while the other boys played noisily at catch and tag and torment-the-coloreds, I sat alone in a corner of the courtyard, playing chess. Since I had no board or pieces, and no means of making any, I was reduced to conducting matches in my mind. This isn’t as difficult as it sounds. Remember, I’d played blindfolded many times at the Chess Club, sometimes against three or four men simultaneously. A single unseen game was no great effort, especially when my opponent was myself.
    I must have been unconsciously moving the invisible pieces with my hands, for I heard a brash voice say, almost in my ear, “Look, the hunchback is spastic, too!” Several other voices broke into loud guffaws.
    So sheltered was my childhood, I hadn’t encountered much outright taunting or teasing, only stares and whispers. I wasn’t sure how to deal with these rowdies; I thought my best bet was to pay no attention to them. I simply sat there, unmoving, my eyes still closed.
    My tactic didn’t work. “Let’s see if he walks funny!” said the brash voice. A rough hand grabbed hold of my collar and dragged me to my feet. I opened my eyes to see four of the big boys crowded close around me, laughing and poking at me as though I were some curiosity, like one