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diff --git a/old/pwnds10.txt b/old/pwnds10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f742835 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pwnds10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3031 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext of Painted Windows, by Elia W. Peattie +#1 in our series by Elia W. Peattie + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Painted Windows + +by Elia W. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, NE + + + + + +PAINTED WINDOWS + +BY + +ELIA W. PEATTIE + + + + +Will you come with me into the chamber of memory +and lift your eyes to the painted windows where the figures +and scenes of childhood appear? Perhaps by looking with +kindly eyes at those from out my past, long wished-for +visions of your own youth will appear to heal the wounds +from which you suffer, and to quiet your stormy and +restless heart. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I NIGHT + + II SOLITUDE + +III FRIENDSHIP + + IV FAME + + V REMORSE + + VI TRAVEL + + + + +PAINTED WINDOWS + +I + +NIGHT + +YOUNG people believe very little +that they hear about the compen- +sations of growing old, and of living +over again in memory the events of the +past. Yet there really are these com- +pensations and pleasures, and although +they are not so vivid and breathless as +the pleasures of youth, they have some- +thing delicate and fine about them that +must be experienced to be appreciated. + +Few of us would exchange our mem- +ories for those of others. They have +become a part of our personality, and +we could not part with them without +losing something of ourselves. Neither +would we part with our own particular +childhood, which, however difficult it +may have been at times, seems to each +of us more significant than the child- +hood of any one else. I can run over +in my mind certain incidents of my +childhood as if they were chapters in a +much-loved book, and when I am wake- +ful at night, or bored by a long journey, +or waiting for some one in the railway- +station, I take them out and go over +them again. + +Nor is my book of memories without +its illustrations. I can see little vil- +lages, and a great city, and forests and +planted fields, and familiar faces; and +all have this advantage: they are not +fixed and without motion, like the pic- +tures in the ordinary book. People +are walking up the streets of the vil- +lage, the trees are tossing, the tall +wheat and corn in the fields salute me. +I can smell the odour of the gathered +hay, and the faces in my dream-book +smile at me. + +Of all of these memories I like best +the one in the pine forest. + +I was at that age when children think +of their parents as being all-powerful. +I could hardly have imagined any cir- +cumstances, however adverse, that my +father could not have met with his +strength and wisdom and skill. All chil- +dren have such a period of hero-wor- +ship, I suppose, when their father +stands out from the rest of the world +as the best and most powerful man +living. So, feeling as I did, I was made +happier than I can say when my father +decided, because I was looking pale and +had a poor appetite, to take me out of +school for a while, and carry me with +him on a driving trip. We lived in +Michigan, where there were, in the days +of which I am writing, not many rail- +roads; and when my father, who was +attorney for a number of wholesale mer- +cantile firms in Detroit, used to go +about the country collecting money due, +adjusting claims, and so on, he had no +choice but to drive. + +And over what roads! Now it was +a strip of corduroy, now a piece of well- +graded elevation with clay subsoil and +gravel surface, now a neglected stretch +full of dangerous holes; and worst of +all, running through the great forests, +long pieces of road from which the +stumps had been only partly extracted, +and where the sunlight barely pene- +trated. Here the soaked earth became +little less than a quagmire. + +But father was too well used to hard +journeys to fear them, and I felt that, +in going with him, I was safe from all +possible harm. The journey had all the +allurement of an adventure, for we +would not know from day to day where +we should eat our meals or sleep at +night. So, to provide against trouble, +we carried father's old red-and-blue- +checked army blankets, a bag of feed +for Sheridan, the horse, plenty of bread, +bacon, jam, coffee and prepared cream; +and we hung pails of pure water and +buttermilk from the rear of our buggy. + +We had been out two weeks without +failing once to eat at a proper table or +to sleep in a comfortable bed. Some- +times we put up at the stark-looking ho- +tels that loomed, raw and uninviting, +in the larger towns; sometimes we had +the pleasure of being welcomed at a +little inn, where the host showed us a +personal hospitality; but oftener we +were forced to make ourselves "paying +guests" at some house. We cared noth- +ing whether we slept in the spare rooms +of a fine frame "residence" or crept +into bed beneath the eaves of the attic +in a log cabin. I had begun to feel that +our journey would be almost too tame +and comfortable, when one night some- +thing really happened. + +Father lost his bearings. He was +hoping to reach the town of Gratiot by +nightfall, and he attempted to make a +short cut. To do this he turned into +a road that wound through a magnifi- +cent forest, at first of oak and butter- +nut, ironwood and beech, then of +densely growing pines. When we en- +tered the wood it was twilight, but no +sooner were we well within the shadow +of these sombre trees than we were +plunged in darkness, and within half an +hour this darkness deepened, so that +we could see nothing -- not even the +horse. + +"The sun doesn't get in here the +year round," said father, trying his +best to guide the horse through the +mire. So deep was the mud that it +seemed as if it literally sucked at the +legs of the horse and the wheels of the +buggy, and I began to wonder if we +should really be swallowed, and to fear +that we had met with a difficulty that +even my father could not overcome. I +can hardly make plain what a tragic +thought that was! The horse began to +give out sighs and groans, and in the +intervals of his struggles to get on, I +could feel him trembling. There was +a note of anxiety in father's voice as +he called out, with all the authority and +cheer he could command, to poor Sheri- +dan. The wind was rising, and the long +sobs of the pines made cold shivers run +up my spine. My teeth chattered, +partly from cold, but more from fright. + +"What are we going to do?" I asked, +my voice quivering with tears. + +"Well, we aren't going to cry, what- +ever else we do!" answered father, +rather sharply. He snatched the +lighted lantern from its place on the +dashboard and leaped out into the road. +I could hear him floundering round in +that terrible mire and soothing the +horse. The next thing I realised was +that the horse was unhitched, that fa- +ther had -- for the first time during our +journey -- laid the lash across Sheri- +dan's back, and that, with a leap of in- +dignation, the horse had reached the +firm ground of the roadside. Father +called out to him to stand still, and a +moment later I found myself being +swung from the buggy into father's +arms. He staggered along, plunging +and almost falling, and presently I, too, +stood beneath the giant pines. + +"One journey more," said father, +"for our supper, and then we'll bivouac +right here." + +Now that I was away from the buggy +that was so familiar to me, and that +seemed like a little movable piece of +home, I felt, as I had not felt before, +the vastness of the solitude. Above me +in the rising wind tossed the tops of the +singing trees; about me stretched the +soft blackness; and beneath the dense, +interlaced branches it was almost as +calm and still as in a room. I could see +that the clouds were breaking and the +stars beginning to come out, and that +comforted me a little. + +Father was keeping up a stream of +cheerful talk. + +"Now, sir," he was saying to Sheri- +dan, "stand still while I get this har- +ness off you. I'll tie you and blanket +you, and you can lie or stand as you +please. Here's your nose-bag, with +some good supper in it, and if you don't +have drink, it's not my fault. Anyway, +it isn't so long since you got a good nip +at the creek." + +I was watching by the faint light of +the lantern, and noticing how unnat- +ural father and Sheridan looked. They +seemed to be blocked out in a rude kind +of way, like some wooden toys I had at +home. + +"Here we are," said father, "like +Robinson Crusoes. It was hard luck +for Robinson, not having his little girl +along. He'd have had her to pick up +sticks and twigs to make a fire, and that +would have been a great help to him." + +Father began breaking fallen +branches over his knee, and I groped +round and filled my arms again and +again with little fagots. So after a few +minutes we had a fine fire crackling in +a place where it could not catch the +branches of the trees. Father had +scraped the needles of the pines to- +gether in such a way that a bare rim of +earth was left all around the fire, so that +it could not spread along the ground; +and presently the coffee-pot was over +the fire and bacon was sizzling in the +frying-pan. The good, hearty odours +came out to mingle with the delicious +scent of the pines, and I, setting out +our dishes, began to feel a happiness +different from anything I had ever +known. + +Pioneers and wanderers and soldiers +have joys of their own -- joys of which +I had heard often enough, for there had +been more stories told than read in our +house. But now for the first time I +knew what my grandmother and my +uncles had meant when they told me +about the way they had come into the +wilderness, and about the great happi- +ness and freedom of those first days. I, +too, felt this freedom, and it seemed to +me as if I never again wanted walls to +close in on me. All my fear was gone, +and I felt wild and glad. I could not +believe that I was only a little girl. I +felt taller even than my father. + +Father's mood was like mine in a +way. He had memories to add to his +emotion, but then, on the other hand, +he lacked the sense of discovery I had, +for he had known often such feelings +as were coming to me for the first time. +When he was a young man he had been +a colporteur for the American Bible So- +ciety among the Lake Superior Indians, +and in that way had earned part of the +money for his course at the University +of Michigan; afterward he had gone +with other gold-seekers to Pike's Peak, +and had crossed the plains with oxen, +in the company of many other adven- +turers; then, when President Lincoln +called for troops, he had returned to +enlist with the Michigan men, and had +served more than three years with Mc- +Clellan and Grant. + +So, naturally, there was nothing he +did not know about making himself +comfortable in the open. He knew all +the sorrow and all the joy of the home- +less man, and now, as he cooked, he be- +gan to sing the old songs -- "Marching +Through Georgia," and "Bury Me Not +on the Lone Prairie," and "In the +Prison Cell I Sit." He had been in a +Southern prison after the Battle of the +Wilderness, and so he knew how to sing +that song with particular feeling. + +I had heard war stories all my life, +though usually father told such tales in +a half-joking way, as if to make light of +everything he had gone through. But +now, as we ate there under the tossing +pines, and the wild chorus in the tree- +tops swelled like a rising sea, the spirit +of the old days came over him. He was +a good "stump speaker," and he knew +how to make a story come to life, and +never did all his simple natural gifts +show themselves better than on this +night, when he dwelt on his old cam- +paigns. + +For the first time I was to look into +the heart of a kindly natured man, +forced by terrible necessity to go +through the dread experience of war. +I gained an idea of the unspeakable +homesickness of the man who leaves +his family to an unimagined fate, and +sacrifices years in the service of his +country. I saw that the mere foregoing +of roof and bed is an indescribable dis- +tress; I learned something of what the +palpitant anxiety before a battle must +be, and the quaking fear at the first +rattle of bullets, and the half-mad rush +of determination with which men force +valour into their faltering hearts; I +was made to know something of the +blight of war -- the horror of the battle- +field, the waste of bounty, the ruin of +homes. + +Then, rising above this, came stories +of devotion, of brotherhood, of service +on the long, desolate marches, of cour- +age to the death of those who fought +for a cause. I began to see wherein +lay the highest joy of the soldier, and +of how little account he held himself, +if the principle for which he fought +could be preserved. I heard for the +first time the wonderful words of Lin- +coln at Gettysburg, and learned to re- +peat a part of them. + +I was only eight, it is true, but emo- +tion has no age, and I understood then +as well as I ever could, what heroism +and devotion and self-forgetfulness +mean. I understood, too, the meaning +of the words "our country," and my +heart warmed to it, as in the older times +the hearts of boys and girls warmed +to the name of their king. The new +knowledge was so beautiful that I +thought then, and I think now, that +nothing could have served as so fit an +accompaniment to it as the shouting of +those pines. They sang like heroes, +and in their swaying gave me fleeting +glimpses of the stars, unbelievably +brilliant in the dusky purple sky, and +half-obscured now and then by drifting +clouds. + +By and by we lay down, not far apart, +each rolled in an army blanket, frayed +with service. Our feet were to the fire +-- for it was so that soldiers lay, my fa- +ther said -- and our heads rested on +mounds of pine-needles. + +Sometimes in the night I felt my fa- +ther's hand resting lightly on my shoul- +ders to see that I was covered, but in +my dreams he ceased to be my father +and became my comrade, and I was a +drummer boy, -- I had seen the play, +"The Drummer Boy of the Rappahan- +nock," -- marching forward, with set +teeth, in the face of battle. + +Whatever could redeem war and +make it glorious seemed to flood my +soul. All that was highest, all that was +noble in that dreadful conflict came to +me in my sleep -- to me, the child who +had been born when my father was at +"the front." I had a strange baptism +of the spirit. I discovered sorrow and +courage, singing trees and stars. I was +never again to think that the fireside +and fireside thoughts made up the whole +of life. + +My father lies with other soldiers by +the Pacific; the forest sings no more; +the old army blankets have disap- +peared; the memories of the terrible +war are fading, -- happily fading, -- but +they all live again, sometimes, in my +memory, and I am once more a child, +with thoughts as proud and fierce and +beautiful as Valkyries. + + + +II + +SOLITUDE + +AMONG the pictures that I see +when I look back into the past, is +the one where I, a sullen, egotistic per- +son nine years old, stood quite alone in +the world. To he sure, there were fa- +ther and mother in the house, and there +were the other children, and not one +among them knew I was alone. The +world certainly would not have re- +garded me as friendless or orphaned. +There was nothing in my mere appear- +ance, as I started away to school in my +clean ginghams, with my well-brushed +hair, and embroidered school-bag, to +lead any one to suppose that I was a +castaway. Yet I was -- I had discovered +this fact, hidden though it might be +from others. + +I was no longer loved. Father and +mother loved the other children; but not +me. I might come home at night, fairly +bursting with important news about +what had happened in class or among +my friends, and try to relate my little +histories. But did mother listen? Not +at all. She would nod like a mandarin +while I talked, or go on turning the +leaves of her book, or writing her letter. +What I said was of no importance to +her. + +Father was even less interested. He +frankly told me to keep still, and went +on with the accounts in which he was +so absurdly interested, or examined +"papers" -- stupid-looking things done +on legal cap, which he brought home +with him from the office. No one kissed +me when I started away in the morn- +ing; no one kissed me when I came home +at night. I went to bed unkissed. I +felt myself to be a lonely and misunder- +stood child -- perhaps even an adopted +one. + +Why, I knew a little girl who, when +she went up to her room at night, found +the bedclothes turned back, and the +shade drawn, and a screen placed so as +to keep off drafts. And her mother +brushed her hair twenty minutes by the +clock each night, to make it glossy; and +then she sat by her bed and sang softly +till the girl fell asleep. + +I not only had to open my own bed, +but the beds for the other children, and +although I sometimes felt my mother's +hand tucking in the bedclothes round +me, she never stooped and kissed me on +the brow and said, "Bless you, my +child." No one, in all my experience, +had said, "Bless you, my child." When +the girl I have spoken of came into the +room, her mother reached out her arms +and said, before everybody, "Here +comes my dear little girl." When I +came into a room, I was usually told to +do something for somebody. It was +"Please see if the fire needs more +wood," or "Let the cat in, please," or +"I'd like you to weed the pansy bed be- +fore supper-time." + +In these circumstances, life hardly +seemed worth living. I decided that I +had made a mistake in choosing my +family. It did not appreciate me, and +it failed to make my young life glad. +I knew my young life ought to be glad. +And it was not. It was drab, as drab +as Toot's old rain-coat. + +Toot was "our coloured boy." That +is the way we described him. Father +had brought him home from the war, +and had sent him to school, and then +apprenticed him to a miller. Toot did +"chores" for his board and clothes, +but was soon to be his own man, and to +be paid money by the miller, and to +marry Tulula Darthula Jones, a nice +coloured girl who lived with the Cut- +lers. + +The time had been when Toot had +been my self-appointed slave. Almost +my first recollections were of his carry- +ing me out to see the train pass, and +saying, "Toot, toot!" in imitation of +the locomotive; so, although he had +rather a splendid name, I called him +"Toot," and the whole town followed +my example. Yes, the time had been +when Toot saw me safe to school, and +slipped little red apples into my pocket, +and took me out while he milked the +cow, and told me stories and sang me +plantation songs. Now, when he passed, +he only nodded. When I spoke to him +about his not giving me any more ap- +ples, he said: + +"Ah reckon they're your pa's ap- +ples, missy. Why, fo' goodness' sake, +don' yo' he'p yo'se'f?" + +But I did not want to help myself. +I wanted to be helped -- not because I +was lazy, but because I wanted to be +adored. I was really a sort of fairy +princess, -- misplaced, of course, in a +stupid republic, -- and I wanted life con- +ducted on a fairy-princess basis. It was +a game I wished to play, but it was one +I could not play alone, and not a soul +could I find who seemed inclined to play +it with me. + +Well, things went from bad to worse. +I decided that if mother no longer loved +me, I would no longer tell her things. +So I did not. I got a hundred in spell- +ing for twelve days running, and did +not tell her! I broke Edna Grantham's +mother's water-pitcher, and kept the +fact a secret. The secret was, indeed, +as sharp-edged as the pieces of the +broken pitcher had been; I cried under +the bedclothes, thinking how sorry Mrs. +Grantham had been, and that mother +really ought to know. Only what was +the use? I no longer looked to her to +help me out of my troubles. + +I had no need now to have father and +mother tell me to hurry up and finish +my chatter, for I kept all that hap- +pened to myself. I had a new "intimate +friend," and did not so much as men- +tion her. I wrote a poem and showed +it to my teacher, but not to my unin- +terested parents. And when I climbed +the stairs at night to my room, I swelled +with loneliness and anguish and resent- +ment, and the hot tears came to my eyes +as I heard father and mother laughing +and talking together and paying no at- +tention to my misery. I could hear +Toot, who used to be making all sorts +of little presents for me, whistling as +he brought in the wood and water, and +then "cleaned up" to go to see his +Tulula, with never a thought of me. +And I said to myself that the best thing +I could do was to grow up and get +away from a place where I was no +longer wanted. + +No one noticed my sufferings further +than sometimes to say impatiently, +"What makes you act so strange, +child?" And to that, of course, I an- +swered nothing, for what I had to say +would not, I felt, be understood. + +One morning in June I left home with +my resentment burning fiercely within +me. I had not cared for the things we +had for breakfast, for I was half-ill +with fretting and with the closeness of +the day, but my lack of appetite had +been passed by with the remark that +any one was likely not to have an ap- +petite on such a close day. But I was +so languid, and so averse to taking up +the usual round of things, that I begged +mother to let me stay at home. She +shook her head decidedly. + +"You've been out of school too many +days already this term," she said. +"Run along now, or you'll he late!" + +"Please --" I began, for my head +really was whirling, although, quite as +much, perhaps, from my perversity as +from any other cause. Mother turned +on me one of her "lastword" glances. + +"Go to school without another word," +she said, quietly. + +I knew that quiet tone, and I went. +And now I was sure that all was over +between my parents and myself. I be- +gan to wonder if I need really wait till +I was grown up before leaving home. +So miserably absorbed was I in think- +ing of this, and in pitying myself with +a consuming pity, that everything at +school seemed to pass like the shadow +of a dream. I blundered in whatever +I tried to do, was sharply scolded for +not hearing the teacher until she had +spoken my name three times, and was +holding on to myself desperately in my +effort to keep back a flood of tears, +when I became aware that something +was happening. + +There suddenly was a perfect silence +in the room -- the sort of silence that +makes the heart beat too fast. The +mist swimming before me did not, I per- +ceived, come from my own eyes, but +from the changing colour of the air, the +usual transparency of which was being +tinged with yellow. The sultriness of +the day was deepening, and seemed to +carry a threat with it. + +"Something is going to happen," +thought I, and over the whole room +spread the same conviction. Electric +currents seemed to snap from one con- +sciousness to another. We dropped our +books, and turned our eyes toward the +western windows, to look upon a +changed world. It was as if we peered +through yellow glass. In the sky soft- +looking, tawny clouds came tumbling +along like playful cats -- or tigers. A +moment later we saw that they were +not playful, but angry; they stretched +out claws, and snarled as they did so. +One claw reached the tall chimneys of +the schoolhouse, another tapped at the +cupola, one was thrust through the wall +near where I sat. + +Then it grew black, and there was a +bellowing all about us, so that the com- +mands of the teacher and the screams +of the children barely could be heard. +I knew little or nothing. My shoulder +was stinging, something had hit me on +the side of the head, my eyes were full +of dust and mortar, and my feet were +carrying me with the others along the +corridor, down the two flights of wide +stairs. I do not think we pushed each +other or were reckless. My recollec- +tion is only of many shadowy figures +flying on with sure feet out of the build- +ing that seemed to be falling in upon us. + +Presently we were out on the land- +ing before the door, with one more +flight of steps before us, that reached +to the street. Something so strong that +it might not be denied gathered me up +in invisible arms, whirled me round +once or twice and dropped me, not un- +gently, in the middle of the road. And +then, as I struggled to my knees and, +wiping the dust from my eyes, looked +up, I saw dozens of others being lifted +in the same way, and blown off into the +yard or the street. The larger ones +were trying to hold on to the smaller, +and the teachers were endeavouring to +keep the children from going out of the +building, but their efforts were of no +avail. The children came on, and were +blown about like leaves. + +Then I saw what looked like a high +yellow wall advancing upon me -- a roar- +ing and fearsome mass of driven dust, +sticks, debris. It came over me that my +own home might be there, in strips and +fragments, to beat me down and kill +me; and with the thought came a swift +little vision out of my geography of the +Arabs in a sand-storm on the desert. I +gathered up my fluttering dress skirt, +held it tight about my head, and lay flat +upon the ground. + +It seemed as if a long time passed, +a time in which I knew very little ex- +cept that I was fighting for my breath +as I never had fought for anything. +There were more hurts and bruises +now, but they did not matter. Just to +draw my own breath in my own way +seemed to be the only thing in the +world that was of any account. And +then there was a shaft of flame, an ear- +splitting roar, and the rain was upon +us in sheets, in streams, in visible riv- +ers. + +I imagined that it would last a long +time, and wondered in a daze how I +could get home in a rain like that -- +for I should have to face it. I could +see that in a few seconds the gutters +had begun to race, the road where I +lay was a stream, and then -- then the +rain ceased. Never was anything so +astonishing. The sky came out blue, +tattered rags of cloud raced across it, +and I had time to conclude that, whip- +ped and almost breathless though I +was, I was still alive. + +And then I saw a curious sight. Down +the street in every direction came rush- +ing hatless men and women. Here and +there a wild-eyed horse was being +lashed along. All the town was coming. +They were in their work clothes, in +their slippers, in their wrappers -- they +were in anything and everything. Some +of them sobbed as they ran, some called +aloud names that I knew. They were +fathers and mothers looking for their +children. + +And who was that -- that woman with +a white face, with hair falling about her +shoulders, where it had fallen as she +ran -- that woman whose breath came +between her teeth strangely and who +called my name over and over, bleat- +ingly, as a mother sheep calls its lamb? +At first I did not recognise her, and +then, at last, I knew. And that creature +with the rolling eyes and the curious +ash-coloured face who, mumbling some- +thing over and over in his throat, came +for me, and snatched me up and wiped +my face free of mud, and felt of me +here and there with trembling hands -- +who was he? + +And breaking out of the crowd of +men who had come running from the +street of stores and offices, was an- +other strange being, with a sort of bat- +tle light in his eyes, who, seeing me, +gathered me to him and bore me away +toward home. Looking back, I could +see the woman I knew following, lean- +ing on the arm of the boy with the roll- +ing eyes, whose eyes had ceased to roll, +and who was quite recognisable now as +Toot. + +A happiness that was almost as ter- +rible as sorrow welled up in my heart. +I did not weep, or laugh, or talk. All +I had experienced had carried me be- +yond mere excitement into exultation. +I exulted in life, in love. My conceit +and sulkiness died in that storm, as did +many another thing. I was alive. I +was loved. I said it over and over to +myself silently, in "my heart's deep +core," while mother washed me with +trembling hands in my own dear room, +bound up my hurts, braided my hair, +and put me, in a fresh night-dress, into +my bed. I do not recall that we talked +to each other, but in every caress of +her hands as she worked I felt the un- +spoken assurances of a love such as I +had not dreamed of. + +Father had gone running back to the +school to see if he could be of any as- +sistance to his neighbours, and had +taken Toot with him, but they were +back presently to say that beyond a few +sharp injuries and broken bones, no +harm had been done to the children. It +was considered miraculous that no one +had been killed or seriously injured, +and I noticed that father's voice trem- +bled as he told of it, and that mother +could not answer, and that Toot sobbed +like a big silly boy. + +Then as we talked together, behold, +a second storm was upon us -- a sharp +black blast of wind and rain, not ter- +rifying, like the other, but with an +"I've-come-to-spend-the-day" sort of +aspect. + +But no one seemed to mind very +much. I was carried down to the sit- +ting-room. Toot busied himself com- +ing and going on this errand and on +that, fastening the doors, closing the +windows, running out to see to the ani- +mals, and coming back again. Father +and mother set the table. They kept +close together; and now and then they +looked over at me, without saying any- +thing, but with shining eyes. + +The storm died down to a quiet rain. +From the roof of the porch the drops +fell in silver strings, like beads. Then +the sun came out and turned them into +shining crystal. The birds began to +sing again, and when we threw open the +windows delicious odours of fresh earth +and flowering shrub greeted us. Mother +began to sing as she worked. And I +sank softly to sleep, thrilled with the +marvels of the world -- not of the tem- +pest, but of the peace. + +The sweet familiarity of the faces +and the walls and the furniture and the +garden was like a blessing. There was +not a chair there that I would have ex- +changed for any other chair -- not a tree +that I would have parted with -- not a +custom of that simple, busy place that +I would have changed. I knew now all +my stupidity -- and my good fortune. + + + +III + +FRIENDSHIP + +WHEN I look back upon the village +where I lived as a child, I can- +not remember that there were any divi- +sions in our society. This group went +to the Congregational church, and that +to the Presbyterian, but each family +felt itself to be as good as any other, +and even if, ordinarily, some of them +withdrew themselves in mild exclusive- +ness, on all occasions of public celebra- +tion, or when in trouble, we stood to- +gether in the pleasantest and most un- +affected democracy. + +There were only the "Bad Madi- +gans" outside the pale. + +The facts about the Bad Madigans +were, no doubt, serious enough, but the +fiction was even more appalling. As to +facts, the father drank, the mother fol- +lowed suit, the appearance of the house + --a ramshackle old place beyond the +fair-grounds -- was a scandal; the chil- +dren could not be got to go to school +for any length of time, and, when they +were there, each class in which they +were put felt itself to be in disgrace, +and the dislike focused upon the in- +truders, sent them, sullen and hateful, +back to their lair. And, indeed, the +Madigan house seemed little more than +a lair. It had been rather a fine house +once, and had been built for the oc- +cupancy of the man who owned the fair- +grounds; but he choosing finally to live +in the village, had permitted the house +to fall into decay, until only a family +with no sense of order or self-respect +would think of occupying it. + +When there occurred one of the rare +burglaries in the village, when anything +was missing from a clothes-line, or a +calf or pig disappeared, it was gen- +erally laid to the Madigans. Unac- +counted-for fires were supposed to be +their doing; they were accorded respon- +sibility for vicious practical jokes; and +it was generally felt that before we +were through with them they would +commit some blood-curdling crime. + +When, as sometimes happened, I had +met one of the Bad Madigans on the +road, or down on the village street, my +heart had beaten as if I was face to +face with a company of banditti; but +I cannot say that this excitement was +caused by aversion alone. The truth +was, the Bad Madigans fascinated me. +They stood out from all the others, +proudly and disdainfully like Robin +Hood and his band, and I could not get +over the idea that they said: "Fetch +me yonder bow!" to each other; or, +"Go slaughter me a ten-tined buck!" I +felt that they were fortunate in not be- +ing held down to hours like the rest of +us. Out of bed at six-thirty, at table +by seven, tidying bedroom at seven- +thirty, dusting sitting-room at eight, on +way to school at eight-thirty, was not +for "the likes of them!" Only we, +slaves of respectability and of an inor- +dinate appetite for order, suffered such +monotony and drabness to rule. I knew +the Madigan boys could go fishing +whenever they pleased, that the Madi- +gan girls picked the blackberries before +any one else could get out to them, that +every member of the family could pack +up and go picnicking for days at a +time, and that any stray horse was +likely to be ridden bareback, within an +inch of its life, by the younger mem- +bers of the family. + +Only once however, did I have a +chance to meet one of these modern +Visigoths face to face, and the feelings +aroused by that incident remained the +darling secret of my youth. I dared tell +no one, and I longed, yet feared, to have +the experience repeated. But it never +was! It happened in this way: + +On a certain Sunday afternoon in +May, my father and mother and I went +to Emmons' Woods. To reach Em- +mons' Woods, you went out the back +door, past the pump and the currant +bushes, then down the path to the +chicken-houses, and so on, by way of +the woodpile, to the south gate. After +that, you went west toward the clover +meadows, past the house where the +Crazy Lady lived -- here, if you were +alone, you ran -- and then, reaching the +verge of the woods, you took your +choice of climbing a seven-rail fence or +of walking a quarter of a mile till you +came to the bars. The latter was much +better for the lace on a Sunday petti- +coat. + +Once in Emmons' Woods, there was +enchantment. An eagle might come -- +or a blue heron. There had been bears +in Emmons' Woods -- bears with roll- +ing eyes and red mouths from which +their tongues lolled. There was one +place for pinky trillium, and another +for gentians; one for tawny adders' +tongues, and another for yellow Dutch- +man's breeches. In the sap-starting +season, the maples dripped their lus- +cious sap into little wooden cups; later, +partridges nested in the sun-burned +grass. There was no lake or river, but +there was a pond, swarming with a +vivacious population, and on the hard- +baked clay of the pond beach the green +beetles aired their splendid changeable +silks and sandpipers hopped ridicu- +lously. + +It was, curiously enough, easier to +run than to walk in Emmons' Woods, +and even more natural to dance than to +run. One became acquainted with +squirrels, established intimacies with +chipmunks, and was on some sort of +civil relation with blackbirds. And, +oh, the tossing green of the young wil- +lows, where the lilac distance melted +into the pale blue of the sky! And, oh, +the budding of the maples and the fring- +ing of the oaks; and, oh, the blossom- +ing of the tulip trees and the garner- +ing of the chestnuts! And then, the +wriggling things in the grass; the pro- +cession of ants; the coquetries of the +robins; and the Beyond, deepening, +deepening into the forest where it was +safe only for the woodsmen to go. + +On this particular Sunday one of us +was requested not to squeal and run +about, and to remember that we wore +our best shoes and need not mess them +unnecessarily. It was hard to be re- +minded just when the dance was getting +into my feet, but I tried to have Sun- +day manners, and went along in the still +woods, wondering why the purple col- +ours disappeared as we came on and +what had been distance became near- +ness. There was a beautiful, aching +vagueness over everything, and it was +not strange that father, who had +stretched himself on the moss, and +mother, who was reading Godey's La- +dies' Book, should presently both of +them be nodding. So, that being a well- +established fact -- I established it by +hanging over them and staring at their +eyelids -- it seemed a good time for me +to let the dance out of my toes. Still +careful of my fresh linen frock, and +remembering about the best shoes, I +went on, demurely, down the green al- +leys of the wood. Now I stepped on +patches of sunshine, now in pools of +shadow. I thought of how naughty I +was to run away like this, and of what +a mistake people made who said I was +a good, quiet, child. I knew that I +looked sad and prim, but I really hated +my sadness and primness and good- +ness, and longed to let out all the in- +teresting, wild, naughty thoughts there +were in me. I wanted to act as if I were +bewitched, and to tear up vines and +wind them about me, to shriek to the +echoes, and to scold back at the squir- +rels. I wanted to take off my clothes +and rush into the pond, and swim like +a fish, or wriggle like a pollywog. I +wanted to climb trees and drop from +them; and, most of all -- oh, with what +longing -- did I wish to lift myself above +the earth and fly into the bland blue +air! + +I came to a hollow where there was +a wonderful greenness over everything, +and I said to myself that I would be +bewitched at last. I would dance and +whirl and call till, perhaps, some kind +of a creature as wild and wicked and +wonderful as I, would come out of the +woods and join me. So I forgot about +the fresh linen frock, and wreathed my- +self with wild grape-vine; I cared noth- +ing for my fresh braids and wound +trillium in my hair; and I ceased to re- +member my new shoes, and whirled +around and around in the leafy mould, +singing and shouting. + +I grew madder and madder. I seemed +not to be myself at all, but some sort +of a wood creature; and just when the +trees were looking larger than ever they +did before, and the sky higher up, a +girl came running down from a sort of +embankment where a tornado had made +a path for itself and had hurled some +great chestnuts and oaks in a tumbled +mass. The girl came leaping down the +steep sides of this place, her arms out- +spread, her feet bare, her dress no more +than a rag the colour of the tree-trunks. +She had on a torn green jacket, which +made her seem more than ever like +some one who had just stepped out of +a hollow tree, and, to my unspeakable +happiness, she joined me in my dance. + +I shall never forget how beautiful she +was, with her wild tangle of dark hair, +and her deep blue eyes and ripe lips. +Her cheeks were flaming red, and her +limbs strong and brown. She did not +merely shout and sing; she whistled, +and made calls like the birds, and cawed +like a crow, and chittered like a squir- +rel, and around and around the two of +us danced, crazy as dervishes with the +beauty of the spring and the joy of be- +ing free. + +By and by we were so tired we had +to stop, and then we sat down panting +and looked at each other. At that we +laughed, long and foolishly, but, after +a time, it occurred to us that we had +many questions to ask. + +"How did you get here?" I asked the +girl. + +"I was walking my lone," she said, +speaking her words as if there was a +rich thick quality to them, "and I +heard you screeling." + +"Won't you get lost, alone like +that?" + +"I can't get lost, "she sighed. "I 'd +like to, but I can't." + +"Where do you live?" + +"Beyant the fair-grounds." + +"You're not -- not Norah Madigan?" + +She leaned back and clasped her +hands behind her head. Then she +smiled at me teasingly. + +"I am that," she said, showing her +perfect teeth. + +I caught my breath with a sharp +gasp. Ought I to turn back to my par- +ents? Had I been so naughty that I +had called the naughtiest girl in the +whole county out to me? + +But I could not bring myself to leave +her. She was leaning forward and +looking at me now with mocking eyes. + +"Are you afraid?" she demanded. + +"Afraid of what?" I asked, knowing +quite well what she meant. + +"Of me?" she retorted. + +At that second an agreeable truth +overtook me. I leaned forward, too, +and put my hand on hers. + +"Why, I like you!" I cried. She be- +gan laughing again, but this time there +was no mockery in it. She ran her fin- +gers over the embroidery on my linen +frock, she examined the lace on my pet- +ticoat, looked at the bows on my shoes, +and played delicately with the locket +dangling from the slender chain around +my neck. + +"Do you know -- other girls?" she al- +most whispered. + +I nodded. "Lots and lots of 'em," +I said. "Don't you?" + +She shook her head in wistful denial. + +"Us Madigans," she said, "keeps to +ourselves." She said it so haughtily +that for a moment I was almost per- +suaded into thinking that they lived +their solitary lives from choice. But, +glancing up at her, I saw a blush that +covered her face, and there were tears +in her eyes. + +"Well, anyway," said I quickly, "we +know each other." + +"Yes," she cried, "we do that!" + +She got up, then, and ran to a great +tree from which a stout grape-vine was +swinging, and pulling at it with her +strong arms, she soon had it made into +a practical swing. + +"Come!" she called -- "come, let's +swing together!" + +She helped me to balance myself on +the rope-like vine, and, placing her feet +outside of mine, showed me how to +"work up" till we were sweeping with +a fine momentum through the air. We +shrieked with excitement, and urged +each other on to more and more frantic +exertions. We were like two birds, but +to birds flying is no novelty. With us +it was, which made us happier than +birds. But I, for my part, was no more +delighted with my swift flights through +the air than I was with the shining eyes +and flashing teeth of the girl opposite +me. I liked her strength, and the way +in which her body bent and swayed. +Once more, she seemed like a wood- +child -- a wild, mad, gay creature from +the tree. I felt as if I had drawn a play- +mate from elf-land, and I liked her a +thousand times better than those +proper little girls who came to see me +of a Saturday afternoon. + +Well, there we were, rocking and +screaming, and telling each other that +we were hawks, and that we were fly- +ing high over the world, when the anx- +ious and austere voice of my mother +broke upon our ears. We tried to stop, +but that was not such an easy matter +to do, and as we twisted and writhed, +to bring our grape-vine swing to a +standstill, there was a slow rending and +breaking which struck terror to our +souls. + +"Jump!" commanded Norah -- +"jump! the vine's breaking!" We +leaped at the same moment, she safely. +My foot caught in a stout tendril, and +I fell headlong, scraping my forehead +on the ground and tearing a triangular +rent in the pretty, new frock. Mother +came running forward, and the expres- +sion on her face was far from being +the one I liked to see. + +"What have you been doing?" she +demanded. "I thought you were get- +ting old enough and sensible enough to +take care of yourself!" + +I must have been a depressing sight, +viewed with the eyes of a careful +mother. Blood and mould mingled on +my face, my dress needed a laundress +as badly as a dress could, and my shoes +were scratched and muddy. + +"And who is this girl?" asked +mother. I had become conscious that +Norah was at my feet, wiping off my +shoes with her queer little brown frock. + +"It's a new friend of mine," gasped +I, beginning to see that I must lose her, +and hoping the lump in my throat +wouldn't get any bigger than it was. + +"What is her name?" asked mother. +I had no time to answer. The girl did +that. + +"I'm Norah Madigan," she said. +Her tone was respectful, and, maybe, +sad. At any rate, it had a curious +sound. + +"Norah Mad-i-gan?" asked mother +doubtfully, stringing out the word. + +"Yessum," said a low voice. "Good- +bye, mum." + +"Oh, Norah!" cried I, a strange pain +stabbing my heart. "Come to see +me --" + +But my mother's voice broke in, firm +and kind. + +"Good-bye, Norah," said she. + +I saw Norah turn and run up among +the trees, almost as swiftly and silently +as a hare. Once, she turned to look +back. I was watching, and caught the +chance to wave my hand to her. + +"Come!" commanded mother, and +we went back to where father was sit- +ting. + +"What do you think!" said mother. +"I found the child playing with one of +the Bad Madigans. Isn't she a sight!" + +The lump in my throat swelled to a +terrible size; something buzzed in my +ears, and I heard some one weeping. +For a second or two I didn't realise that +it was myself. + +"Well, never mind, dear," said +mother's voice soothingly. "The frock +will wash, and the tear will mend, and +the shoes will black. Yes, and the +scratches will heal." + +"It isn't that," I sobbed. "Oh, oh, +it isn't that!" + +"What is it, then, for goodness +sake?" asked mother. + +But I would not tell. I could not +tell. How could I say that the daughter +of the Bad Madigans was the first real +and satisfying playmate I had ever +had? + + + +IV + +FAME + +AS I remember the boys and girls +who grew up with me, I think of +them as artists, or actors, or travellers, +or rich merchants. Each of us, by the +time we were half through grammar +school, had selected a career. So far +as I recollect, this career had very lit- +tle to do with our abilities. We merely +chose something that suited us. Our +energy and our vanity crystallised into +particular shapes. There was a sort of +religion abroad in the West at that time +that a person could do almost anything +he set out to do. The older people, as +well as the children, had an idea that +the world was theirs -- they all were +Monte Cristos in that respect. + +As for me, I had decided to be an +orator. + +At the time of making this decision, +I was nine years of age, decidedly thin +and long drawn out, with two brown +braids down my back, and a terrific +shyness which I occasionally overcame +with such a magnificent splurge that +those who were not acquainted with my +peculiarities probably thought me a +shamefully assertive child. + +I based my oratorical aspirations +upon my having taken the prize a num- +ber of times in Sunday-school for learn- +ing the most New Testament verses, +and upon the fact that I always could +make myself heard to the farthest cor- +ner of the room. I also felt that I had +a great message to deliver to the world +when I got around it, though in this, I +was in no way different from several +of my friends. I had noticed a number +of things in the world that were not +quite right, and which I thought needed +attention, and I believed that if I were +quite good and studied elocution, in a +little while I should be able to set my +part of the world right, and perhaps +even extend my influence to adjoining +districts. + +Meantime I practised terrible vocal +exercises, chiefly consisting of a rau- +cous "caw" something like a crow's +favourite remark, and advocated by my +teacher in elocution for no reason that +I can now remember; and I stood be- +fore the glass for hours at a time mak- +ing grimaces so as to acquire the "ac- +tor's face," till my frightened little sis- +ters implored me to turn back into my- +self again. + +It was a great day for me when I +was asked to participate in the Harvest +Home Festival at our church on +Thanksgiving Day. I looked upon it as +the beginning of my career, and bought +crimping papers so that my hair could +be properly fluted. Of course, I wanted +a new dress for the occasion, and I +spent several days in planning the kind +of a one I thought best suited to such a +memorable event. I even picked out the +particular lace pattern I wanted for the +ruffles. This was before I submitted the +proposition to Mother, however. When +I told her about it she said she could +see no use in getting a new dress and +going to all the trouble of making it +when my white one with the green +harps was perfectly good. + +This was such an unusual dress and +had gone through so many vicissitudes, +that I really was devotedly attached to +it. It had, in the beginning, belonged +to my Aunt Bess, and in the days of +its first glory had been a sheer Irish +linen lawn, with tiny green harps on it +at agreeable intervals. But in the +course of time, it had to be sent to the +wash-tub, and then, behold, all the lit- +tle lovely harps followed the example +of the harp that "once through Tara's +hall the soul of music shed," and dis- +appeared! Only vague, dirty, yellow +reminders of their beauty remained, +not to decorate, but to disfigure the +fine fabric. + +Aunt Bess, naturally enough, felt ir- +ritated, and she gave the goods to +mother, saying that she might be able +to boil the yellow stains out of it and +make me a dress. I had gone about +many a time, like love amid the ruins, +in the fragments of Aunt Bess's splen- +dour, and I was not happy in the +thought of dangling these dimmed re- +minders of Ireland's past around with +me. But mother said she thought I'd +have a really truly white Sunday best +dress out of it by the time she was +through with it. So she prepared a +strong solution of sodium and things, +and boiled the breadths, and every little +green harp came dancing back as if +awaiting the hand of a new Dublin poet. +The green of them was even more +charming than it had been at first, and +I, as happy as if I had acquired the +golden harp for which I then vaguely +longed, went to Sunday-school all that +summer in this miraculous dress of +now-you-see-them-and-now-you-don't, +and became so used to being asked if I +were Irish that my heart exulted when +I found that I might -- fractionally -- +claim to be, and that one of the Fenian +martyrs had been an ancestor. For a +year, even, after that discovery of the +Fenian martyr, ancestors were a fa- +vorite study of mine. + +Well, though the dress became some- +thing more than familiar to the eyes +of my associates, I was so attached to +it that I felt no objection to wearing +it on the great occasion; and, that be- +ing settled, all that remained was to +select the piece which was to reveal my +talents to a hitherto unappreciative -- +or, perhaps I should say, unsuspecting +-- group of friends and relatives. It +seemed to me that I knew better than +my teacher (who had agreed to select +the pieces for her pupils) possibly +could what sort of a thing best repre- +sented my talents, and so, after some +thought, I selected "Antony and Cleo- +patra," and as I lagged along the too- +familiar road to school, avoiding the +companionship of my acquaintances, I +repeated: + + +I am dying, Egypt, dying! + Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast, +And the dark Plutonian shadows + Gather on the evening blast. + + +Sometimes I grew so impassioned, so +heedless of all save my mimic sorrow +and the swing of the purple lines, that +I could not bring myself to modify my +voice, and the passers-by heard my +shrill tones vibrating with: + + +As for thee, star-eyed Egyptian! + Glorious sorceress of the Nile! +Light the path to Stygian horrors + With the splendour of thy smile. + + +I wiped dishes to the rhythm of such +phrases as "scarred and veteran le- +gions," and laced my shoes to the music +of "Though no glittering guards sur- +round me." + +Confident that no one could fail to +see the beauty of these lines, or the pro- +priety of the identification of myself +with Antony, I called upon my Sunday- +school teacher, Miss Goss, to report. I +never had thought of Miss Goss as a +blithe spirit. She was associated in my +mind with numerous solemn occasions, +and I was surprised to find that on this +day she unexpectedly developed a trait +of breaking into nervous laughter. I +had got as far as "Should the base ple- +beian rabble --" when Miss Goss broke +down in what I could not but regard as +a fit of giggles, and I ceased abruptly. + +She pulled herself together after a +moment or two, and said if I would fol- +low her to the library she thought she +could find something -- here she hesi- +tated, to conclude with, "more within +the understanding of the other chil- +dren." I saw that she thought my feel- +ings were hurt, and as I passed a mir- +ror I feared she had some reason to +think so. My face was uncommonly +flushed, and a look of indignation had +crept, somehow, even into my braids, +which, having been plaited too tightly, +stuck out in crooks and kinks from the +side of my head. Incidentally, I was +horrified to notice how thin I was -- +thin, even for a dying Antony -- and my +frock was so outgrown that it hardly +covered my knees. "Ridiculous!" I +said under my breath, as I confronted +this miserable figure -- so shamefully in- +significant for the vicarious emotions +which it had been housing. "Ridicu- +lous!" + +I hated Miss Goss, and must have +shown it in my stony stare, for she put +her arm around me and said it was a +pity I had been to all the trouble to +learn a poem which was -- well, a trifle +too -- too old -- but that she hoped to find +something equally "pretty" for me to +speak. At the use of that adjective in +connection with William Lytle's lines, I +wrenched away from her grasp and +stood in what I was pleased to think a +haughty calm, awaiting her directions. + +She took from the shelves a little vol- +ume of Whittier, bound in calf, hand- +ling it as tenderly as if it were a price- +less possession. Some pressed violets +dropped out as she opened it, and she +replaced them with devotional fingers. +After some time she decided upon a +lyric lament entitled "Eva." I was +asked to run over the verses, and found +them remarkably easy to learn; fatally +impossible to forget. I presently arose +and with an impish betrayal of the pov- +erty of rhyme and the plethora of sen- +timent, repeated the thing relentlessly. + + +O for faith like thine, sweet Eva, + +Lighting all the solemn reevah [river], + +And the blessings of the poor, + +Wafting to the heavenly shoor [shore]. + + +"I do think," said Miss Goss gently, +"that if you tried, my child, you might +manage the rhymes just a little better." + + +"But if you're born in Michigan," I +protested, "how can you possibly make +'Eva' rhyme with 'never' and 'be- +liever'?" + +"Perhaps it is a little hard," Miss +Goss agreed, and still clinging to her +Whittier, she exhumed "The Pump- +kin," which she thought precisely fitted +for our Harvest Home festival. This +was quite another thing from "Eva," +and I saw that only hours of study +would fix it in my mind. I went to my +home, therefore, with "The Pumpkin" +delicately transcribed in Miss Goss's +running hand, and I tried to get some +comfort from the foreign allusions glit- +tering through Whittier's kindly verse. +As the days went by I came to have a +certain fondness for those homely lines: + +O -- fruit loved of boyhood! -- the old days re- + +calling, +When wood grapes were purpling and brown + +nuts were falling! +When wild, ugly faces we carved in the skin, +Glaring out through the dark with a candle + +within! +When we laughed round the corn-heap, with + +hearts all in tune, +Our chair a broad pumpkin -- our lantern the + +moon, +Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like + +steam +In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her + +team! + + +On all sides this poem was considered +very fitting, and I went to the festival +with that comfortable feeling one has +when one is moving with the majority +and is wearing one's best clothes. + +I sat rigid with expectancy while my +schoolmates spoke their "pieces" and +sang their songs. With frozen faces +they faced each other in dialogues, lost +their quavering voices, and stumbled +down the stairs in their anguish of +spirit. I pitied them, and thought how +lucky it was that my memory never +failed me, and that my voice carried so +well that I could arouse even old Elder +Waite from his slumbers. + +Then my turn came. My crimps +were beautiful; the green harps danced +on my freshly-ironed frock, and I had +on my new chain and locket. I relied +upon a sort of mechanism in me to say: +O greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, +The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run. + +In this seemly manner Whittier's ode +to the pumpkin began. I meant to go +on to verses which I knew would de- +light my audience -- to references to the +"crook-necks" ripening under the Sep- +tember sun; and to Thanksgiving gath- +erings at which all smiled at the reun- +ion of friends and the bounty of the board. + + +What moistens the lip and brightens the eye! +What calls back the past like the rich pumpkin pie! + + +I was sure these lines would meet +with approval, and having "come down +to the popular taste," I was prepared +to do my best to please. + +After a few seconds, when the golden +pumpkins that lined the stage had +ceased to dance before my eyes, I +thought I ought to begin to "get hold +of my audience." Of course, my mem- +ory would be giving me the right words, +and my facile tongue running along re- +liably, but I wished to demonstrate that +"ability" which was to bring me fa- +vour and fame. I listened to my own +words and was shivered into silence. I +was talking about "dark Plutonian +shadows"; I was begging "Egypt" to +let her arms enfold me -- I was, indeed, +in the very thick of the forbidden poem. +I could hear my thin, aspiring voice +reaching out over that paralysed audi- +ence with: + + +Though my scarred and veteran legions + Bear their eagles high no more; +And my wrecked and scattered galleys + Strew dark Actium's fatal shore. + + +My tongue seemed frozen, or some +kind of a ratchet at the base of it had +got out of order. For a moment -- a +moment can be the little sister of eter- +nity -- I could say nothing. Then I +found myself in the clutches of the in- +stinct for self-preservation. I felt it in +me to stop the giggles of the girls on +the front seat; to take the patronising +smiles out of the tolerant eyes of the +grown people. Maybe my voice lost +something of its piping insistence and +was touched with genuine feeling; per- +haps some faint, faint spark of the di- +vine fire which I longed to fan into a +flame did flicker in me for that one time. +I had the indescribable happiness of +seeing the smiles die on the faces of my +elders, and of hearing the giggles of my +friends cease. + +I went to my seat amid what I was +pleased to consider "thunders of ap- +plause," and by way of acknowledg- +ment, I spoke, with chastened propri- +ety, Whittier's ode to the pumpkin. + +I cannot remember whether or not I +was scolded. I'm afraid, afterward, +some people still laughed. As for me, +oddly enough, my oratorical aspira- +tions died. I decided there were other +careers better fitted to one of my +physique. So I had to go to the trouble +of finding another career; but just what +it was I have forgotten. + + + +V + +REMORSE + +IT is extraordinary, when you come +to think of it, how very few days, +out of all the thousands that have +passed, lift their heads from the grey +plain of the forgotten -- like bowlders in +a level stretch of country. It is not +alone the unimportant ones that are for- +gotten; but, according to one's elders, +many important ones have left no mark +in the memory. It seems to me, as I +think it over, that it was the days that +affected the emotions that dwell with +me, and I suppose all of us must be the +same in this respect. + +Among those which I am never to +forget is the day when Aunt Cordelia +came to visit us -- my mother's aunt, +she was -- and when I discovered evil, +and tried to understand what the use +of it was. + +Great-aunt Cordelia was, as I often +and often had been told, not only much +travelled, rich and handsome, but good +also. She was, indeed, an important +personage in her own city, and it +seemed to be regarded as an evidence +of unusual family fealty that she +should go about, now and then, briefly +visiting all of her kinfolk to see how +they fared in the world. I ought to +have looked forward to meeting her, but +this, for some perverse reason, I did +not do. I wished I might run away +and hide somewhere till her visit was +over. It annoyed me to have to clean +up the play-room on her account, and +to help polish the silver, and to comb +out the fringe of the tea napkins. I +liked to help in these tasks ordinarily, +but to do it for the purpose of coming +up to a visiting -- and probably, a con- +descending -- goddess, somehow made +me cross. + +Among other hardships, I had to take +care of my little sister Julie all day. I +loved Julie. She had soft golden- +brown curls fuzzing around on her +head, and mischievous brown eyes -- +warm, extra-human eyes. There was a +place in the back of her neck, just below +the point of her curls, which it was a +privilege to kiss; and though she could +not yet talk, she had a throaty, beauti- +ful little exclamation, which cannot be +spelled any more than a bird note, with +which she greeted all the things she +liked -- a flower, or a toy, or mother. +But loving Julie as she sat in mother's +lap, and having to care for her all of +a shining Saturday, were two quite dif- +ferent things. As the hours wore along +I became bored with looking at the +golden curls of my baby sister; I had +no inclination to kiss the "honey-spot" +in the back of her neck; and when she +fretted from heat and teething and my +perfunctory care, I grew angry. + +I knew mother was busy making cus- +tards and cakes for Aunt Cordelia, and +I longed to be in watching these pleas- +ing operations. I thought -- but what +does it matter what I thought? I was +bad! I was so bad that I was glad I +was bad. Perhaps it was nerves. May- +be I really had taken care of the baby +too long. But however that may be, for +the first time in my life I enjoyed the +consciousness of having a bad disposi- +tion -- or perhaps I ought to say that I +felt a fiendish satisfaction in the discov- +ery that I had one. + +Along in the middle of the afternoon +three of the girls in the neighbourhood +came over to play. They had their +dolls, and they wanted to "keep house" +in the "new part" of our home. We +were living in a roomy and comfortable +"addition," which had, oddly enough, +been built before the building to which +it was finally to serve as an annex. That +is to say, it had been the addition be- +fore there was anything to add it to. +By this time, however, the new house +was getting a trifle old, as it waited for +the completion of its rather dispropor- +tionate splendours; splendours which +represented the ambitions rather than +the achievements of the family. It tow- +ered, large, square, imposing, with hints +of M. Mansard's grandiose architectu- +ral ideas in its style, in the very centre +of a village block of land. From the +first, it exercised a sort of "I dreamt I +dwelt in marble halls" effect upon me, +and in a vague way, at the back of my +mind, floated the idea that when we +passed from our modest home into +this commanding edifice, well-trained +servants mysteriously would appear, +beautiful gowns would be found await- +ing my use in the closets, and father +and mother would be able to take their +ease, something after the fashion of the +"landed gentry" of whom I had read +in Scotch and English books. The ceil- +ings of the new house were so high, the +sweep of the stairs so dramatic, the size +of the drawing-rooms so copious, that +perhaps I hardly was to be blamed for +expecting a transformation scene. + +But until this new life was realised, +the clean, bare rooms made the best of +all possible play-rooms, and with the +light streaming in through the trees, +and falling, delicately tinged with +green, upon the new floors, and with +the scent of the new wood all about, it +was a place of indefinable enchantment. +I was allowed to play there all I pleased +-- except when I had Julie. There were +unguarded windows and yawning stair- +holes, and no steps as yet leading from +the ground to the great opening where +the carved front door was some time +to be. Instead, there were planks, in- +clined at a steep angle, beneath which +lay the stones of which the foundation +to the porch were to be made. Jagged +pieces of yet unhewn sandstone they +were, with cruel edges. + +But to-day when the girls said, "Oh, +come!" my newly discovered badness +echoed their words. I wanted to go +with them. So I went. + +Out of the corner of my eye I could +see father in the distance, but I +wouldn't look at him for fear he would +be magnetised into turning my way. +The girls had gone up, and I followed, +with Julie in my arms. Did I hear +father call to me to stop? He always +said I did, but I think he was mistaken. +Perhaps I merely didn't wish to hear +him. Anyway, I went on, balancing +myself as best I could. The other girls +had reached the top, and turned to look +at us, and I knew they were afraid. I +think they would have held out their +hands to help me, but I had both arms +clasped about Julie. So I staggered on, +got almost to the top, then seemed sub- +merged beneath a wave of fears -- mine +and those of the girls -- and fell! As +I went, I curled like a squirrel around +Julie, and when I struck, she was still +in my grasp and on top of me. But she +rolled out of my relaxing clutch after +that, and when father and mother came +running, she was lying on the stones. +They thought she had fallen that way, +and as the breath had been fairly +knocked out of her little body, so that +she was not crying, they were more +frightened than ever, and ran with her +to the house, wild with apprehension. + +As for me, I got up somehow and fol- +owed. I decided no bones were broken, +but I was dizzy and faint, and aching +from bruises. I saw my little friends +running down the plank and making off +along the poplar drive, white-faced and +panting. I knew they thought Julie +was dead and that I'd be hung. I had +the same idea. + +When we got to the sitting-room I +had a strange feeling of never having +seen it before. The tall stove, the +green and oak ingrain carpet, the green +rep chairs, the what-not with its shells, +the steel engravings on the walls, +seemed absolutely strange. I sat down +and counted the diamond-shaped figures +on the oilcloth in front of the stove; +and after a long time I heard Julie cry, +and mother say with immeasurable re- +lief: + +"Aside from a shaking up, I don't +believe she's a bit the worse." + +Then some one brought me a cupful +of cold water and asked me if I was +hurt. I shook my head and would not +speak. I then heard, in simple and em- +phatic Anglo-Saxon the opinions of my +father and mother about a girl who +would put her little sister's life in dan- +ger, and would disobey her parents. +And after that I was put in my moth- +er's bedroom to pass the rest of the +day, and was told I needn't expect to +come to the table with the others. + +I accepted my fate stoically, and be- +ing permitted to carry my own chair +into the room, I put it by the western +window, which looked across two miles +of meadows waving in buckwheat, in +clover and grass, and sat there in a cu- +rious torpor of spirit. I was glad to +be alone, for I had discovered a new +idea -- the idea of sin. I wished to be +left to myself till I could think out what +it meant. I believed I could do that by +night, and, after I had got to the root +of the matter, I could cast the whole +ugly thing out of my soul and be good +all the rest of my life. + +There was a large upholstered chair +standing in front of me, and I put my +head down on the seat of that and +thought and thought. My thoughts +reached so far that I grew frightened, +and I was relieved when I felt the little +soft grey veils drawing about me which +I knew meant sleep. It seemed to me +that I really ought to weep -- that the +circumstances were such that I should +weep. But sleep was sweeter than +tears, and not only the pain in my mind +but the jar and bruise of my body +seemed to demand that oblivion. So I +gave way to the impulse, and the grey +veils wrapped around and around me +as a spider's web enwraps a fly. And +for hours I knew nothing. + +When I awoke it was the close of day. +Long tender shadows lay across the +fields, the sky had that wonderful clear- +ness and kindness which is like a hu- +man eye, and the soft wind puffing in +at the window was sweet with field +fragrance. A glass of milk and a plate +with two slices of bread lay on the win- +dow sill by me, as if some one had +placed them there from the outside. I +could hear birds settling down for the +night, and cheeping drowsily to each +other. My cat came on the scene and, +seeing me, looked at me with serious, +expanding eyes, twitched her whiskers +cynically, and passed on. Presently I +heard the voices of my family. They +were re-entering the sitting-room. Sup- +per was over -- supper, with its cold +meats and shining jellies, its "floating +island" and its fig cake. I could hear +a voice that was new to me. It was +deeper than my mother's, and its ac- +cent was different. It was the sort of +a voice that made you feel that its +owner had talked with many different +kinds of people, and had contrived to +hold her own with all of them. I knew +it belonged to Aunt Cordelia. And now +that I was not to see her, I felt my curi- +osity arising in me. I wanted to look +at her, and still more I wished to ask +her about goodness. She was rich and +good! Was one the result of the other? +And which came first? I dimly per- +ceived that if there had been more +money in our house there would have +been more help, and I would not have +been led into temptation -- baby would +not have been left too long upon my +hands. However, after a few moments +of self-pity, I rejected this thought. I +knew I really was to blame, and it oc- +curred to me that I would add to my +faults if I tried to put the blame on any- +body else. + +Now that the first shock was over and +that my sleep had refreshed me, I be- +gan to see what terrible sorrow had +been mine if the fall had really injured +Julie; and a sudden thought shook me. +She might, after all, have been hurt in +some way that would show itself later +on. I yearned to look upon her, to see +if all her sweetness and softness was in- +tact. It seemed to me that if I could +not see her the rising grief in me would +break, and I would sob aloud. I didn't +want to do that. I had no notion to +call any attention to myself whatever, +but see the baby I must. So, softly, +and like a thief, I opened the door com- +municating with the little dressing- +room in which Julie's cradle stood. The +curtain had been drawn and it was al- +most dark, but I found my way to +Julie's bassinet. I could not quite see +her, but the delicate odour of her +breath came up to me, and I found her +little hand and slipped my finger in it. +It was gripped in a baby pressure, and +I stood there enraptured, feeling as if +a flower had caressed me. I was +thrilled through and through with hap- +piness, and with love for this little crea- +ture, whom my selfishness might have +destroyed. There was nothing in what +had happened during this moment or +two when I stood by her side to assure +me that all was well with her; but I did +so believe, and I said over and over: +"Thank you, God! Thank you, God!" + +And now my tears began to flow. +They came in a storm -- a storm I could +not control, and I fled back to mother's +room, and stood there before the west +window weeping as I never had wept +before. + +The quiet loveliness of the closing +day had passed into the splendour of +the afterglow. Mighty wings as of +bright angels, pink and shining white, +reached up over the sky. The vault was +purple above me, and paled to lilac, then +to green of unimaginable tenderness. +Now I quenched my tears to look, and +then I wept again, weeping no more for +sorrow and loneliness and shame than +for gratitude and delight in beauty. So +fair a world! What had sin to do with +it? I could not make it out. + +The shining wings grew paler, faded, +then darkened; the melancholy sound +of cow-bells stole up from the common. +The birds were still; a low wind rustled +the trees. I sat thinking my young +"night thoughts" of how marvellous it +was for the sun to set, to rise, to keep +its place in heaven -- of how wrapped +about with mysteries we were. What +if the world should start to falling +through space? Where would it land? +Was there even a bottom to the uni- +verse? "World without end" might +mean that there was neither an end to +space nor yet to time. I shivered at +thought of such vastness. + +Suddenly light streamed about me, +warm arms enfolded me. + +"Mother!" I murmured, and slipped +from the unknown to the dear familiar- +ity of her shoulder. + +It was, I soon perceived, a silk-clad +shoulder. Mother had on her best +dress; nay, she wore her coral pin and +ear-rings. Her lace collar was scented +with Jockey Club, and her neck, into +which I was burrowing, had the inde- +scribable something that was not quite +odour, not all softness, but was com- +pounded of these and meant mother. +She said little to me as she drew me +away and bathed my face, brushed and +plaited my hair, and put on my clean +frock. But we felt happy together. I +knew she was as glad to forgive as I +was to be forgiven. + +In a little while she led me, blinking, +into the light. A tall stranger, a lady +in prune-coloured silk, sat in the high- +backed chair. + +"This is my eldest girl, Aunt Cor- +delia," said my mother. I went for- +ward timidly, wondering if I were +really going to be greeted by this per- +son who must have heard such terrible +reports of me. I found myself caught +by the hands and drawn into the em- +brace of this new, grand acquaintance. + +"Well, I've been wanting to see +you," said the rich, kind voice. "They +say you look as I did at your age. They +say you are like me!" + +Like her -- who was good! But no +one referred to this difference or said +anything about my sins. When we were +sorry, was evil, then, forgotten and sin +forgiven? A weight as of iron dropped +from my spirit. I sank with a sigh on +the hassock at my aunt's feet. I was +once more a member of society. + + + +VI + +TRAVEL + +IT was time to say good-bye. + +I had been down to my little +brother's grave and watered the sorrel +that grew on it -- I thought it was sor- +row, and so tended it; and I had walked +around the house and said good-bye to +every window, and to the robin's nest, +and to my playhouse in the shed. I +had put a clean ribbon on the cat's neck, +and kissed my doll, and given presents +to my little sisters. Now, shivering be- +neath my new grey jacket in the chill +of the May morning air, I stood ready +to part with my mother. She was a +little flurried with having just ironed +my pinafores and collars, and with hav- +ing put the last hook on my new Stuart +plaid frock, and she looked me over +with rather an anxious eye. As for me, +I thought my clothes charming, and I +loved the scarlet quill in my grey hat, +and the set of my new shoes. I hoped, +above all, that no one would notice that +I was trembling and lay it down to fear. + +Of course, I had been away before. +It was not the first time I had left +everything to take care of itself. But +this time I was going alone, and that +gave rather a different aspect to things. +To go into the country for a few days, +or even to Detroit, in the company of +a watchful parent, might be called a +"visit"; but to go alone, partly by +train and partly by stage, and to arrive +by one's self, amounted to "travel." I +had an aunt who had travelled, and I +felt this morning that love of travel +ran in the family. Probably even +Aunt Cordelia had been a trifle nervous, +at first, when she started out for Ha- +waii, say, or for Egypt. + +Mother and I were both fearful that +the driver of the station 'bus hadn't +really understood that he was to call. +First she would ask father, and then I +would ask him, if he was quite sure the +man understood, and father said that +if the man could understand English +at all -- and he supposed he could -- he +had understood that. Father was right +about it, too, for just when we -- that is, +mother and I -- were almost giving up, +the 'bus horses swung in the big gate +and came pounding up the drive be- +tween the Lombardy poplars, which +were out in their yellow-green spring +dress. They were a bay team with a +yellow harness which clinked splendidly +with bone rings, and the 'bus was as +yellow as a pumpkin, and shaped not +unlike one, so that I gave it my instant +approval. It was precisely the sort of +vehicle in which I would have chosen +to go away. So absorbed was I in it +that, though I must have kissed mother, +I have really no recollection of it; and +it was only when we were swinging out +of the gate, and I looked back and saw +her standing in the door watching us, +that a terrible pang came over me, so +that for one crazy moment I thought +I was going to jump out and run back +to her. + +But I held on to father's hand and +turned my face away from home with +all the courage I could summon, and we +went on through the town and out +across a lonely stretch of country to the +railroad. For we were an obstinate lit- +tle town, and would not build up to the +railroad because the railroad had re- +fused to run up to us. It was a new +station with a fine echo in it, and the +man who called out the trains had a +beautiful voice for echoes. It was cre- +ated to inspire them and to encourage +them, and I stood fascinated by the +thunderous noises he was making till +father seized me by the hand and thrust +me into the care of the train conductor. +They said something to each other in +the sharp, explosive way men have, and +the conductor took me to a seat and +told me I was his girl for the time be- +ing, and to stay right there till he came +for me at my station. + +What amazed me was that the car +should be full of people. I could not +imagine where they all could be going. +It was all very well for me, who be- +longed to a family of travellers -- as wit- +ness Aunt Cordelia -- to be going on a +journey, but for these others, these +many, many others, to be wandering +around, heaven knows where, struck me +as being not right. It seemed to take +somewhat from the glory of my adven- +ture. + +However, I noticed that most of them +looked poor. Their clothes were old +and ugly; their faces not those of pleas- +ure-seekers. It was very difficult to +imagine that they could afford a jour- +ney, which was, as I believed, a great +luxury. At first, the people looked to +be all of a sort, but after a little I be- +gan to see the differences, and to no- +tice that this one looked happy, and +that one sad, and another as if he had +much to do and liked it, and several +others as if they had very little idea +where they were going or why. + +But I liked better to look from the +windows and to see the world. The +houses seemed quite familiar and as if +I had seen them often before. I hardly +could believe that I hadn't walked up +those paths, opened those doors and +seated myself at the tables. I felt that +if I went in those houses I would know +where everything was -- just where the +dishes were kept, and the Bible, and the +jam. It struck me that houses were +very much alike in the world, and that +led to the thought that people, too, were +probably alike. So I forgot what the +conductor had said to me about keeping +still, and I crossed over the aisle and +sat down beside a little girl who was +regrettably young, but who looked +pleasant. Her mother and grand- +mother were sitting opposite, and they +smiled at me in a watery sort of way +as if they thought a smile was expected +of them. I meant to talk to the little +girl, but I saw she was almost on the +verge of tears, and it didn't take me +long to discover what was the matter. +Her little pink hat was held on by an +elastic band, which, being put behind +her ears and under her chin, was cut- +ting her cruelly. I knew by experience +that if the band were placed in front of +her ears the tension would be lessened; +so, with the most benevolent intentions +in the world, I inserted my fingers be- +tween the rubber and her chubby +cheeks, drew it out with nervous but +friendly fingers, somehow let go of it, +and snap across her two red cheeks and +her pretty pug nose went the lacerat- +ing elastic, leaving a welt behind it! + +"What do you mean, you bad girl?" +cried the mother, taking me by the +shoulders with a sort of grip I had +never felt before. "I never saw such a +child -- never!" + +An old woman with a face like a hen +leaned over the back of the seat. + +"What's she done? What's she +done?" she demanded. The mother +told her, as the grandmother comforted +the hurt baby. + +"Go back to your seat and stay +there!" commanded the mother. "See +you don't come near here again!" + +My lips trembled with the anguish I +could hardly restrain. Never had a +noble soul been more misunderstood. +Stupid beings! How dare they! Yet, +not to be liked by them -- not to be un- +derstood! That was unendurable. +Would they listen to the gentle word +that turneth away wrath? I was in- +clined to think not. I was fairly pant- +ing under my load of dismay and de- +spondency, when a large man with an +extraordinarily clean appearance sat +down opposite me. He was a study in +grey -- grey suit, tie, socks, gloves, hat, +top-coat -- yes, and eyes! He leaned +forward ingratiatingly. + +"What do you think Aunt Ellen sent +me last week?" he inquired. + +We seemed to be old acquaintances, +and in my second of perplexity I de- +cided that it was mere forgetfulness +that made me unable to recall just +whom he was talking about. So I only +said politely: "I don't know, I'm sure, +sir." + +"Why, yes, you do!" he laughed. +"Couldn't you guess? What should +Aunt Ellen send but some of that white +maple sugar of hers; better than ever, +too. I've a pound of it along with me, +and I'd be glad to pry off a few pieces +if you'd like to eat it. You always +were so fond of Aunt Ellen's maple +sugar, you know." + +The tone carried conviction. Of +course I must have been fond of it; +indeed, upon reflection, I felt that I had +been. By the time the man was back +with a parallelogram of the maple +sugar in his hand, I was convinced that +he had spoken the truth. + +"Aunt Ellen certainly is a dear," he +went on. "I run down to see her every +time I get a chance. Same old rain- +barrel! Same old beehives! Same old +well-sweep! Wouldn't trade them for +any others in the world. I like every- +thing about the place -- like the 'Old +Man' that grows by the gate; and the +tomato trellis -- nobody else treats to- +matoes like flowers; and the herb gar- +den, and the cupboard with the little +wood-carvings in it that Uncle Ben +made. You remember Uncle Ben? +Been a sailor -- broke both legs -- had +'em cut off -- and sat around and carved +while Aunt Ellen taught school. Happy +they were -- no one happier. Brought +me up, you know. Didn't have a father +or mother -- just gathered me in. Good +sort, those. Uncle Ben's gone, but +Aunt Ellen's a mother to me yet. +Thinks of me, travelling, travelling, +never putting my head down in the same +bed two nights running; and here and +there and everywhere she overtakes me +with little scraps out of home. That's +Aunt Ellen for you!" + +As the delicious sugar melted on my +tongue, the sorrows melted in my soul, +and I was just about to make some in- +quiries about Aunt Ellen, whose per- +sonal qualities seemed to be growing +clearer and clearer in my mind, when +my conductor came striding down the +aisle. + +"Where's my little girl?" he de- +manded heartily. "Ah, there she is, +just where I left her, in good company +and eating maple sugar, as I live." + +"Well, she hain't bin there all the +time now, I ken tell ye that!" cried the +old woman with a face like a hen. + +"Indeed, she ain't!" the other +women joined in. "She's a mischief- +makin' child, that's what she is!" said +the mother. The little girl was look- +ing over her grandmother's shoulder, +and she ran out a very red, serpent- +like tongue at me. + +"She's a good girl, and almost as +fond of Aunt Ellen as I am," said the +large man, finding my pocket, and put- +ting a huge piece of maple sugar in it. + +The conductor, meantime, was gath- +ering my things, and with a "Come +along, now! This is where you +change," he led me from the car. I +glanced back once, and the hen-faced +woman shook her withered brown fist +at me, and the large man waved and +smiled. The conductor and I ran as +hard as we could, he carrying my light +luggage, to a stage that seemed to be +waiting for us. He shouted some di- +rections to the driver, deposited me +within, and ran back to his train. And +I, alone again, looked about me. + +We were in the heart of a little town, +and a number of men were standing +around while the horses took their fill +at the watering-trough. This accom- +plished, the driver checked up the +horses, mounted to his high seat, was +joined by a heavy young man; two gen- +tlemen entered the inside of the coach, +and we were off. + +One of these gentlemen was very old. +His silver hair hung on his shoulders; +he had a beautiful flowing heard which +gleamed in the light, the kindest of +faces, lit with laughing blue eyes, and +he leaned forward on his heavy stick +and seemed to mind the plunging of +our vehicle. The other man was mid- +dle-aged, dark, silent-looking, and, I +decided, rather like a king. We all +rode in silence for a while, but by and +by the old man said kindly: + +"Where are you going, my child?" + +I told him. + +"And whose daughter are you?" he +inquired. I told him that with pride. +"I know people all through the state," +he said, "but I don't seem to remember +that name." + +"Don't you remember my father, +sir?" I cried, anxiously, edging up +closer to him. "Not that great and +good man! Why, Abraham Lincoln +and my father are the greatest men +that ever lived!" + +His head nodded strangely, as he +lifted it and looked at me with his +laughing eye. + +"It's a pity I don't know him, that +being the case," he said gently. "But, +anyway, you're a lucky little girl." + +"Yes," I sighed, "I am, indeed." + +But my attention was taken by our +approach to what I recognised as an +"estate." A great gate with high +posts, flat on top, met my gaze, and +through this gateway I could see a drive +and many beautiful trees. A little boy +was sitting on top of one of the posts, +watching us, and I thought I never had +seen a place better adapted to viewing +the passing procession. I longed to be +on the other gatepost, exchanging confi- +dences across the harmless gulf with +this nice-looking boy, when, most unex- +pectedly, the horses began to plunge. +The next second the air was filled with +buzzing black objects. + +"Bees!" said the king. It was the +first word he had spoken, and a true +word it was. Swarming bees had set- +tled in the road, and we had driven un- +aware into the midst of them. The +horses were distracted, and made blind- +ly for the gate, though they seemed +much more likely to run into the posts +than to get through the gate, I thought. +The boy seemed to think this, too, for +he shot backward, turned a somersault +in. the air, and disappeared from view. + +"God bless me!" said the king. + +The heavy young man on the front +seat jumped from his place and began +beating away the bees and holding the +horses by the bridles, and in a few min- +utes we were on our way. The horses +had been badly stung, and the heavy +young man looked rather bumpy. As +for us, the king had shut the stage door +at the first approach of trouble, and +we were unharmed. + +After this, we all felt quite well ac- +quainted, and the old gentleman told me +some wonderful stories about going +about among the Indians and about the +men in the lumber camps and the set- +tlers on the lake islands. Afterward I +learned that he was a bishop, and a +brave and holy man whom it was a +great honour to meet, but, at the time, +I only thought of how kind he was to +pare apples for me and to tell me tales. +The king seldom spoke more than one +word at a time, but he was kind, too, in +his way. Once he said, "Sleepy?" to +me. And, again, "Hungry?" He +didn't look out at the landscape at all, +and neither did the bishop. But I ran +from one side to the other, and the last +of the journey I was taken up between +the driver and the heavy man on the +high seat. + +Presently we were in a little town +with cottages almost hidden among the +trees. A blue stream ran through +green fields, and the water dashed over +a dam. I could hear the song of the +mill and the ripping of the boards. + +"We're here!" said the driver. + +The heavy man lifted me down, and +my young uncle came running out with +his arms open to receive me. "What a +traveller!" he said, kissing me. + +"It's been a tremendously long and +interesting journey," I said. + +"Yes," he answered. "Ten miles +by rail and ten by stage. I suppose +you've had a great many adventures!" + +"Oh, yes!" I cried, and ached to tell +them, but feared this was not the place. +I saw my uncle respectfully helping the +bishop to alight, and heard him inquir- +ing for his health, and the bishop an- +swering in his kind, deep voice, and +saying I was indeed a good traveller +and saw all there was to see -- and a lit- +tle more. The king shook hands with +me, and this time said two words: +"Good luck." Uncle had no idea who +he was -- no one had seen him before. +Uncle didn't quite like his looks. But +I did. He was uncommon; he was dif- +ferent. I thought of all those people in +the train who had been so alike. And +then I remembered what unexpected +differences they had shown, and turned +to smile at my uncle. + +"I should say I have had adven- +tures!" I cried. + +"We'll get home to your aunt," he +said, "and then we'll hear all about +them." + +We crossed a bridge above the roar- +ing mill-race, went up a lane, and en- +tered Arcadia. That was the way it +seemed to me. It was really a cottage +above a stream, where youth and love +dwelt, and honour and hospitality, and +the little house was to be exchanged for +a greater one where -- though youth de- +parted -- love and honour and hospital- +ity were still to dwell. + +"Travel's a great thing," said my +uncle, as he helped me off with my +jacket. + +"Yes," I answered, solemnly, "it is +a great privilege to see the world." + +I still am of that opinion. I have +seen some odd bits of it, and I cannot +understand why it is that other jour- +neys have not quite come up to that +first one, when I heard of Aunt Ellen, +and saw the boy turn the surprised +somersault, and was welcomed by two +lovers in a little Arcadia. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Painted Windows, by Elia W. Peattie + diff --git a/old/pwnds10.zip b/old/pwnds10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c17bf6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pwnds10.zip |