The Story of a Bad Boy

account of having been blown up. What don't we make a hero of? The distraction which prevailed in the classes the week preceding the Fourth had su

es, a secret society composed of twelve of the Temple Grammar School boys. This was an honor to which I had long

elect wore a copper cent (some occult association being established between a cent apiece and a centipedes suspended by a string round his neck). The medals were worn next the skin, and it was while bathing one day at Grave Point, with Jack Har

le given to the loft over my friend's wood-house -- my hands were securely pinioned, and my eyes covered with a thick silk handkerchief. At the head of the stairs I was told in an unrecognizable, husky voice, that it was not yet too

ll!" said th

mind to be a Centipede, a Centipede I was bound to be. Other

e next, when a pistol fired off close by my car deafened me for a moment. The unknown voice the

possible, than the first, "if you had advanced another inch, you

t. I was then conducted to the brink of several other precipices, and ordered to step over many dangerous chasms, where the result would have been instant

a crash beneath my feet and I fell two miles, as nearly as I could compute it. At the same instant the handkerchief was whisked from my eyes, and I found myself standing in an empty hogshead surrounded by twelve masked figures fantastically dressed. One of the conspirators was really appalling with a tin sauce-pan on his head, and a tiger-skin sleigh-robe thrown over his shoulders. I scarcely need say that ther

disposition. If he showed the slightest terror, he was certain to be tricked unmercifully. One of our subsequent devices -- a humble invention of my own -- was to request the blindfolded candidate to put out his tongue

ed one cent. Whenever a member had reasons for thinking that another member would be unable to attend, he called a meeting. For instance, immediately on learning the death of Harry Blak

r that they did; but further than this we had no purpose, unless it was to accomplish as a body the same amount of mischief which we were sure to do as individuals. To mystify the staid and slow-go

. People who went trustfully to sleep in Currant Square opened their eyes in Honeysuckle Terrace. Jones's Avenue at the north end had suddenly become Walnut Street, and Peanut Street was n

me ignominiously from the haymow and conducted me, more dead than alive, to the office of justice Clapham. Here I encountered five other pallid culprits, who had been fished out of divers coal-bins

fort in the harbor. We were indebted for our arrest to Master Conway, who had slyly dropped a hint, within the hearing of Selectman Mudge, to the effect that "young Bailey and his five cronies c

stagecoach business; he had volunteered to carry Pettingil's "little bill" for twenty-four icecreams to Charley Marden's father; and now he had caused

imorous youth, lacked the moral courage to do so. It was also well known that the Widow Conway had not buried her heart with the late lamented. As to her shyness, that was not so

titute who patronized the shop for soda-water, acid-drops, and slate-pencils. In the afternoon the widow was usually seen seated, smartly dressed, at her window upstairs, casting destructive gl

to strike a blow at the common enemy. To kill less than three birds with one stone did not suit our sanguinary purpose. We disliked the widow not so much for her sentimentality

abode, their sober faces relaxed at beholding over her front door the well known gilt Mortar and Pestle which usually stood on the top of a pole on the opposite corner; whi

d, a Sem

like wildfire over the town, and, though the mortar and the placard were speedily removed, our triumph was c

e wicked soldi