ause
Mr. Tufts had known the boy's parents and grandparents and felt a real
interest in the lad. He would not have received the proper care at a
large school, where "he would be likely to get into trouble with his
love of fun and mischief." The house in which Eugene became as one of
the family is situated about a mile from the village and faces the post
road, on the farther side of which is a mill-pond, where both Eugene
and Roswell came near making the writing of this memoir unnecessary by
going over the dam in a rude boat of their own construction. Happily
the experience resulted in nothing more serious than a thorough fright
and a still more thorough ducking.

Back of the Tufts homestead rise some beautifully wooded hills, where
Field and his schoolmates sought refuge from the gentle wrath of Mr.
Tufts over their not infrequent delinquencies. The story is told in
Monson that the boys, under the leadership of Field, built a "moated
castle" of tree-trunks and brushwood in a well-nigh inaccessible part
of these woods. Thence they sallied forth on their imaginary forays and
thither they retired when in disgrace with Mr. Tufts. Around this
retreat they dug a deep trench, which they covered artfully with boughs
and dead leaves. Then they beguiled their reverend preceptor into
chasing them to their "mountain fastness." Lightly they skipped across
the concealed moat on the only firm ground they had purposely left,
leaving him in the moment of exultant success to plunge neck deep into
a tangled mass of brushwood and mud. In such playful ways as these
Field endeared himself to the frequent forgiveness of Mr. Tufts. "It
was impossible," said Mr. Tufts to me, "to cherish anger against a
pupil whose contrition was as profuse and whimsical as his
transgressions were frequent. The boys were boys."

Of Eugene's education when he came to Monson Mr. Tufts testifies: "In
his studies he was about fitted for an ordinary high school, except in
arithmetic. He had read a little Latin--enough to commence Caesar. I
found him about an average boy in his lessons, not dull, but not a
quick and ready scholar like his father, who graduated from Middlebury
College at the age of fifteen, strong and athletic. He did not seem to
care much for his books or his lessons anyway, but was inclined to get
along as easily as he could, partly on account of his delicate health,
which made close study irksome, and partly because his mind was very
juvenile and