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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34335-0.txt b/34335-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..66538cc --- /dev/null +++ b/34335-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8118 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The William Henry Letters, by Abby Morton Diaz + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The William Henry Letters + +Author: Abby Morton Diaz + +Release Date: November 15, 2010 [eBook #34335] +[Most recently updated: August 21, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS *** + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS. + +by + +MRS. A. M. DIAZ. + +With Illustrations. + + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston: +Fields, Osgood, & Co. +1870. + +Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1870, +by Fields, Osgood, & Co., +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + +University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., +Cambridge. + + + + +EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION. + + +MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS:-- + +Much to my surprise, I was asked one day if I would be willing to edit +the William Henry Letters for publication in a volume. + +At first it seemed impossible for me to do anything of the kind; “for,” +said I, “how can any one edit who is not an editor? Besides, I am not +enough used to writing.” It was then explained to me that my duties +would simply be to collect and arrange the Letters, and furnish any +little items concerning William Henry and his home which might interest +the reader. It was also hinted, in the mildest manner possible, that I +was not chosen for this office on account of my talents, or my learning, +or my skill in writing; but wholly because of my intimate acquaintance +with the two families at Summer Sweeting place,--for I have at times +lived close by them for weeks together, and have taken tea quite often +both at Grandmother’s and at Aunt Phebe’s. + + * * * * * + +After a brief consideration of the proposal, I agreed to undertake the +task; at the same time wishing a more experienced editor could have been +found. + +My acquaintance with the families commenced just about the time of +William Henry’s going to school, and in rather a curious way. + +I was then (and am now) much interested in the Freedmen. While serving +in the Army of the Potomac, I had seen a good deal of them, and was +connected with a hospital in Washington at the time when they were +pouring into that city, hungry and sick, and half-naked. I belonged to +several Freedmen’s Societies, and had just then pledged myself to beg a +barrelful of old clothing to send South. + +But this I found was, for an unmarried man, having few acquaintances in +the town, a very rash promise. I had no idea that one barrel could hold +so much. The pile of articles collected seemed to me immense. I wondered +what I should do with them all. But when packed away there was room left +for certainly a third as many more; and I had searched thoroughly the +few garrets in which right of search was allowed me. Even in those, I +could only glean after other barrel-fillers. A great many garrets +yielded up their treasures during the war; for “Old clo’! old clo’!” was +the cry then all over the North. + +Now, as I was sitting one afternoon by my barrel, wishing it were full, +it happened that I looked down into the street, and saw there my +_unknown friend_, waiting patiently in his empty cart. This _unknown +friend_ was a tall, high-shouldered man, who drove in, occasionally, +with vegetables. There were others who came in with vegetables also, and +oftener than he; but this one I had particularly noticed, partly because +of his bright, good-humored face, and partly because his horse had +always a flower, or a sprig of something green, stuck in the harness. + +At first I had only glanced at him now and then in the crowd. Then I +found myself watching for his blue cart, and next I began to wonder +where he came from, and what kind of people his folks were. He joked +with the grocery-men, threw apples at the little ragged street children, +and coaxed along his old horse in a sort of friendly way that was quite +amusing. And though I had never spoken a word to him, nor he to me, I +called him my unknown friend, for a sight of him always did me good. + +It was a bony old gray horse that he drove, with a long neck poking way +ahead; and the man was a farmer-like man, and wore farmer-like clothes; +but he had a pleasant, twinkling eye, and the horse, as I said before, +was seldom without a flower or bit of green stuck behind his ear or +somewhere else about the harness. + +And often, when the town was hot and dusty, and business people were +mean, I would say to myself, as my friend drove past on his way home, +How I should like to ride out with him, no matter where, if ’t is only +where they have flowers and green things growing in the garden! + +On this particular afternoon, as I have said, I observed my friend +sitting quietly in his cart, “bound out,” as the fishermen say,--sitting +becalmed, waiting for something ahead to get started. + +It happened that I was just then feeling very sensibly the heat and +confinement of the town, and was more than usually weary of business +ways and business people; actually pining for the balmy air of pine +woods and the breath of flowery fields. And perhaps, thought I, my +friend may live among warm-hearted country folk, who will be delighted +to give to my poor contrabands, and whose garrets no barrelman has yet +explored! + +So, giving a second look, and seeing that he still sat there, patiently +awaiting his turn, I ran down, without stopping to think more about it, +and asked if I might ride out with him. + +“O yes. Jump in! jump in!” said he, in the pleasantest manner possible; +then he offered me his cushion, and began to double up an empty bag for +himself. + +“No, no. Give me the bag,” said I; and folding it, I laid it on the +board, just to take off the edge of the jolting a little. And my seat +seemed a charming one, after having been perched up on an office-stool +so long. + +That cushion of his took my eye at once. It looked as if it came out of +a rocking-chair. The covering was of black cloth, worked in a very +old-fashioned way, with pinks and tulips. The colors were faded, but it +had a homespun, comfortable, countrified look; in fact, the first glance +at that queer old cushion assured me that I was going to exactly the +right place. + +Presently we got started, and certainly I never had a better ride, nor +one with a pleasanter companion. He asked me all sorts of funny +questions about electricity, and oxygen, and flying-machines, and the +telegraph, and the moon and stars. + +“Now you are a learned man, I suppose,” said he; “and I want you to tell +me how that golden-rod gets its yellow out of black ground.” I said I +was not a learned man at all, and I didn’t believe learned men +themselves could tell how it got its yellow, and the asters their +purple, and the succory its blue, and the everlasting its white, all out +of the same black ground. He said he was pretty sure his wife couldn’t +boil up a kettleful and color either of those colors from them. + +So we went talking on. He asked me where I’d been stopping, and what I +did for a living. And I told him what I did for a living, and all about +soldier life, and the contrabands, and about my barrel. Our road led +through woods part of the way, and I drew in long breaths of woody air. +He told me a funny woodchuck story, and had a good deal to say about +wood-lots,--how some rich men formerly owned great tracts, but becoming +poor were forced to sell; and how, when pines were cut off, oaks grew up +in their place. And among other things he told me that a hardhack would +turn into a huckleberry-bush. I said that seemed like a miracle. He was +going on to tell me about one that he had watched, but just then we +turned into a pleasant, shady lane. + +We hadn’t gone far down this shady lane before we heard a loud screaming +behind us, and looking round saw a small boy caught fast in the bushes +by the skirt of his frock. + +“Do you see that little boy?” I asked. + +“O yes, I see him,” he said, laughing. “Hullo, Tommy! what you staying +there for?” + +The boy kept on crying. + +“What you waiting for?” he called out again, just as if he couldn’t see +that the bushes would not let the child stir. + +We found out afterwards that little Tommy had hid there to jump out and +scare his father, but got caught by the briers. I went to untangle +him,--his clothes had several rents,--and was going to put him in the +cart; but he would get in “his own self,” he said. Then he stopped +crying, and wanted to drive. His father said, “No, not till we get +through the bars.” + +Then Tommy began again. And at last he said, half crying and half +talking, “When I’m--the--father, and you ’m--the--ittle Tommy--you +can’t--drive--my--horse!” + +His father laughed and said: “Well, when I’m the little Tommy, I’ll +brush the snarls off my face--so, and throw them under the wheels--so, +and let ’em get run over!” + +This made Tommy laugh, and very soon after we came to the bars. + +I looked ahead and saw a neat white house, not very large, with green +blinds and a piazza, where flowering plants were climbing. There was a +garden on one side and an orchard on the other. Just across the garden +stood an old, brown, unpainted house. There were tall apple-trees +growing near it, that looked about a hundred years old. My friend, Uncle +Jacob,--I’ve heard him called Uncle Jacob so much since that I really +don’t know how to put a Mister to his name,--said those were Summer +Sweeting trees, that had pretty nigh done bearing. He said there used to +be Summer Sweeting trees growing all about there; and that when he took +part of the place, and built him a house, he cut down the ones on his +land, and set out Baldwins and Tallmans and Porters; but his mother +kept her’s for the good they had done, and for the sake of what few +apples they did bear, to give away to the children. + +The houses had their backs towards me, and I was glad of that, for I +always like back doors better than front ones. + +Uncle Jacob whistled, and I saw a blind fly open, and a handkerchief +wave from an upper window, where two girls were sitting. Uncle Jacob’s +wife stepped to the door and waved a sunbonnet, and then stepped back +again. + +“Here, Tommy,” said Uncle Jacob, “you carry in the magazine to Lucy +Maria, and here’s Matilda’s gum-arabic. I don’t see where Towser is.” + +I jumped out, and said I guessed I would keep on; for I began to feel +bashful about seeing so many women-folks. + +“Where you going to keep on to?” Uncle Jacob asked. “This road don’t go +any farther.” + +I said I would walk across the fields to the next village and find a +hotel. + +“O no,” said he, “stay here. Grandmother’ll be glad enough to hear about +the contrabands. She’ll knit stockings, and pick up a good deal about +the house to send off. And I want to ask much as five hundred questions +more about matters and things myself. Come, stay. Yes, we’ll give you a +good supper, a first-rate supper. Don’t be afraid. My wife’ll--There! I +forgot her errand, now! But if you--Whoa! whoa! Georgiana, take this +pattern in to your Aunt Phebe, and tell her I forgot to see if I could +match it; but I don’t believe the man had any like it.” + +Georgiana was a nice little girl that just then came running across the +garden,--William Henry’s sister, as I learned afterwards. + +Just then Aunt Phebe stepped to the door again. + +“Here are two hungry travellers,” said Uncle Jacob, “and one of us is +bashful.” + +“Well,” said Aunt Phebe, very cheerily, “if anybody is hungry, this is +just the right place. How do you do, sir? Come right in. We live so out +of the way we ’re always glad of company. Father, can’t you introduce +your friend?” + +“Well--no--I can’t,” said he. “But I guess he’s brother to the +President!” + +I said my name was Fry. + +Aunt Phebe said her father had a cousin that married a _Fry_, and asked +what my mother’s maiden name was. I told her my mother was a _Young_, +and that I was named for my father and mother both,--_Silas Young Fry_. + +I heard a tittering overhead, behind a pair of blinds, where I guessed +some girls were peeping through. And afterwards, when I was sitting on +the piazza, I heard one tell another, not thinking I was within hearing, +that a young fry had come to supper. + +When we all sat round the table the girls seemed full of tickle, which +they tried to hide,--and one of them asked me,--I think it was Hannah +Jane,--with a very sober face,-- + +“Mr. Fry, will you take some fried fish?” + +I laughed and said, “No, I never take anything _fried_.” + +Then we all laughed together, and so got acquainted very pleasantly; +for I have observed that a little ripple of fun sets people nearer +together than a whole ocean of calm conversation. + +After supper Uncle Jacob read the paper aloud, while the girls washed up +the dishes. All were eager to hear; and I found they kept the run of +affairs quite as well as townspeople. When there was too much rattling +of dishes for Uncle Jacob to be heard, and the girls lost some important +item, he was always willing to read it over. Little Tommy was rolled up +in a shawl and set down in the rocking-chair (that cushion did come out +of it) while his mother mended his clothes. This was the way he usually +got punished for tearing them. He was done up in a shawl, arms and all, +and kept in the rocking-chair while the clothes were being mended, and +he was obliged to remain pretty quiet, or the chair would tip. Aunt +Phebe said Tommy was so careless, something must be done, and keeping +him still was the worst punishment he could have. + +When the girls finished their dishes and took out their sewing, and were +going to light the large lamp, their mother said that we mustn’t think +of settling ourselves for the evening. She said we must all go in to +grandmother’s, for she’d be dreadful lonely, missing Billy so. + +Then Aunt Phebe told me how her nephew, Billy, a ten-year old boy, had +gone away to school only the day before, and how they all missed him. + +“Isn’t he pretty young to go away to school?” I asked. + +“That’s what I told his father,” said she. + +“His father sent him away to keep him,” said Uncle Jacob. “Grandmother +was spoiling him.” + +“Ruining the boy with kindness?” said Lucy Maria. + +“Well,” said Aunt Phebe, “I suppose ’t was so. I know ’t was so. But we +did hate to have Billy go!” + +Uncle Jacob then took me across the garden, and introduced me to Mr. +Carver, the father of William Henry, and to Grandmother,--old Mrs. +Carver, as the neighbors called her. + +She was a smiling, blue-eyed old lady, though with a little bit of an +anxious look just between the eyes. I thought there was no doubt about +her being a grandmother that would spoil boys. + +“Why, there’s Towser, now?” said Uncle Jacob. “He didn’t come to meet me +to-night.” + +“He’s been there, off and on, pretty much all day,” said grandmother. +“You see what he’s got his head on don’t you?” + +“Billy’s old boots!” said Uncle Jacob. + +“Yes. He set a good deal by Billy. I haven’t put the boots away yet,” +she said, with a sigh. + +“Here, Towser! come here, sir!” cried Uncle Jacob. + +Towser was a big, shaggy, clever-looking dog. He got up slowly, sniffed +at my trousers, then walked to Uncle Jacob, then round the room, then to +the door, then up stairs and down again, and then back he went and lay +down by the boots. + +“He misses my grandson,” said grandmother to me, trying to smile about +it. + +The little girl, Georgiana, sat on a cricket, holding a kitten, tying +and untying its ribbon. A square of patchwork had fallen on the floor. +She stooped to pick it up and dropped her spool. That rolled away +towards the door, and kitty jumped for it and soon got the thread in a +tangle. The door opened so suddenly that she hopped up about two feet +into the air and tumbled head over heels. + +It was Lucy Maria who opened the door. The other girls came soon after; +and when Tommy was asleep Aunt Phebe came too. We had a very sociable +time. I don’t call myself a talker, but I didn’t mind talking there, +they seemed so easy, just like one’s own folks. I told grandmother many +things about the contrabands, and about Southern life, and Southern +people, and about soldier life and battles and rations and making raids, +and the Washington hospitals, and how needy the contrabands were, and +about my barrel. “Poor creatures!” said she. “I must look up some things +for them to-morrow.” Aunt Phebe thought there might be a good many +things lying about that would be of use to folks who hadn’t anything. + +“Billy’s boots!” cried Hannah Jane. + +“Why, yes,” said her mother, “no use keeping boots for a growing boy.” + +This and other remarks brought us back to William Henry again, and +grandmother seemed glad of it. She liked to keep talking about her boy. + +“I shall feel very anxious,” she said. “I hope he will write soon as he +gets there. I told him he’d better write every day, so I could be sure +just how he was. For if well one day, he mightn’t be the next.” + +“O grandmother, that’s too bad!” said Lucy Maria. “’T is cruel to ask a +boy to write every day!” + +“I wouldn’t worry, mother,” said Aunt Phebe. “Billy’s always been a well +child.” + +“These strong constitutions,” said grandmother, “when they do take +anything, ’t is apt to go hard with ’em.” + +“He’s taken pretty much everything that can be given to him already,” +said Aunt Phebe. + +“I suppose they’ll put clothes enough on his bed,” said grandmother. “I +can’t bear to think of his sleeping cold nights.” + +“Perhaps they have blankets in that part of the country,” said Uncle +Jacob. + +“But people are not always thoughtful about it,” said grandmother. “I +really hope he’ll take care of himself, and not be climbing up +everywhere. Houses and trees were bad enough; but now they have +gymnastic poles and everything else, to tempt boys off the ground. O +dear! when we think of everything that might happen to boys, ’t is a +wonder one of them ever lives to grow up. Isn’t there a pond near by?” + +“O yes,” said Lucy Maria, “Crooked Pond. That’s what gives the name to +the school,--Crooked Pond School.” + +“I hope he won’t be whipped,” said his little sister. + +“Whipped!” cried Aunt Phebe, “I should like to see anybody whipping our +Billy!” + +“O mother, I shouldn’t,” said Matilda. + +“’T isn’t an impossible thing,” said grandmother. “He’s quick. Billy’s +good-hearted, but he’s quick. He might speak up. I gave him a charge how +to behave. But then, what’s a boy’s memory? I don’t suppose he’ll +remember one half the things I told him. I meant to have charged him +over again, the last thing, not to stay out in the rain and get wet, +where there’s nobody to see to his clothes being dried.” + +“Well,” said Uncle Jacob, “if a boy doesn’t know enough to go into the +house when it rains, he better come home?” + +“What I hope is,” said Aunt Phebe, “that he’ll keep himself looking +decent.” + +“If he does,” said Lucy Maria, “then ’twill be the first time. The poor +child never seemed to have much luck about keeping spruced up. If +anybody here ever saw William Henry with no buttons off and both shoes +tied, and no rip anywhere, let ’em raise their hands!” + +Everybody laughed. I thought grandmother’s eye wandered round the +circle, as if half taking it all in earnest, and half hoping some hand +would go up. But no hand went up. + +“Billy always was hard on his clothes,” she said, with a sigh. “If he +only keeps well I won’t say a word; but there’s always danger of boys +eating unwholesome things, where there’s nobody to deny them.” + +“Billy’s stomach’s his own, and he must learn to have the care of it,” +said Mr. Carver. + +Mr. Carver seemed a very quiet, thoughtful man, and of quite a different +turn from his brother. + +I suggested that boarding-house diet was apt to be plain; and then told +grandmother about a nephew of mine, a nice boy, who was rather older +than her grandson, who was named after me, and of whom I thought +everything. I told her he had been away at school a year, and that he +enjoyed himself, and went ahead in his studies, and never had a sick +day, and came home with better manners than he had when he went away. As +this pleased her, I said everything I could think of about my nephew, +including some anecdotes of little Silas, when he was quite small; and +she told a few about William Henry, the others helping her out, now and +then, with some missing items. + +Uncle Jacob said he shouldn’t dare to say how many times she’d been +frightened almost to death about Billy. Many and many a time she was +sure he was lost, or drowned, or run over, or carried off, and would +never come back alive; but he always managed to come out straight at +last. Uncle Jacob said that if all the worry that was worried in this +world were piled up together, ’t would make a mountain; but if all of it +that needn’t be worried were knocked off, what was left wouldn’t be +bigger than a huckleberry hill. + +Mr. Carver said there was one thing which made him entirely willing to +trust William Henry away, and that was, he had always been a boy of +principle. “I have watched him pretty closely,” said Mr. Carver, “and +have noticed that he has a kind of pride about him that will not permit +him to lie, or equivocate in any way.” + +“That’s true!” cried Aunt Phebe. “True enough! Billy don’t always look +fit to be seen, but he isn’t deceitful. I’ll say that for him!” + +“When he went to our school,” said Matilda, “and was in the class below +me, and there was a fuss among the boys, and all of ’em told it a +different way, the teacher used to say she would ask William Henry, and +then she could tell just how it happened.” + +“He couldn’t have a better name than that,” said Mr. Carver. + +Grandmother wiped her eyes, she seemed so gratified that her boy’s good +qualities were remembered at last. + +I am almost certain that an editor should not be so long in telling his +story. But I should like to say a little more about that first +night,--just a very little more. + + * * * * * + +Grandmother wouldn’t hear of my going to a hotel. Anybody that had been +a soldier, and was doing good, should never go from her house to find a +night’s lodging. And she might as well have said, particularly anybody +that had a little Silas away at school, for I saw she felt it. + +It required very little urging to make me stay; for in all my travels I +had never met with a pleasanter set of people. My choice was offered me, +whether to lodge in the front chamber, or in the little back chamber +where Billy slept. Of course I chose the last; for people’s best, front, +spare chambers never suit me very well. + +[Illustration] + +Billy’s room was a snug little room, low in the walls, and papered with +flowery paper. There were two windows, the curtains to which were made +of paper like that on the walls. You had to roll them up with your +hands, and tie them with a string that went over the top. The room was +over the sink-room, and in going into it we stepped one step down. There +was no carpet on the floor, excepting a strip by the bedside and a mat +before the table. Grandmother said the table Billy and she made +together, so the legs didn’t stand quite true. It was covered with +calico, and more calico was puckered on round the edge and came down to +the floor. That was done, she said, to make a place for his boots and +shoes. She thought ’t was well for a boy to have a place for his things, +even if he did always leave them somewhere else. There was nothing +under the table but one rubber boot, with the rubber mostly cut off, and +some pieces of new pine, easy to whittle, that Billy had picked up and +stowed away there. A narrow looking-glass hung over the table. It had a +queer picture at the top, of two Japanese figures. The glass had a +little crack in one corner,--cracked by his ball bouncing up when he was +trying it. Some green tissue-paper hung around this fracture with a very +innocent, ornamental air. Not far from the glass I observed a rusty +jack-knife stuck in the wall, close to the window-frame; and on its +handle was hanging a string of birds’-eggs. In stepping up to examine +these I stumbled against an old hair-covered trunk, quite a large one. +The cover seemed a little askew, and not inclined to shut. This trunk +was the color of a red cow, and for aught I know was covered with the +skin of a red cow. In the middle of the cover the letters W. C. were +printed in brass nails, which led me to guess that the trunk had +belonged to William Henry’s father. Grandmother raised the cover, to see +what kept it from shutting, and found ’t was a great scraggly piece of +sassafras (saxifax) root, which lay on top. + +There was everything in that trunk,--everything. Of course I don’t mean +meeting-houses, or steamboats, or anacondas; but everything a boy would +be likely to have. I saw picture papers, leather straps, old +pocket-books, a pair of dividers, the hull of a boat, a pair of +boot-pullers, a chrysalis, several penholders, a large clam-shell, a few +pocket combs,--comb parts gone,--fishing-lines, reels, bobs, sinkers, a +bullet-mould, arrows, a bag of marbles, a china egg, a rule, hammers, a +red comforter, two odd mittens, “that had lost the mates of ’em,” a +bird-call, a mask, an empty cologne-bottle, a dime novel, odd +cards,--all these, and more, were visible by merely stirring the top +layer a little. Also several tangles of twine, twining and intertwining +among the mass. Grandmother shook up the things some,--by means of a +handle which probably belonged to a hatchet, but the hatchet part was +buried,--and I saw that the bottom was covered with marbles, dominos, +nails, bottles, slate-pencils, bits of brass clock machinery, and all +the innumerable nameless, shapeless things which would be likely to +settle down to the bottom of a boy’s trunk. Grandmother said she should +set it to rights if it weren’t for fish-hooks; but anybody’s hands going +in there would be likely to get fish-hooks stuck into them. + +In one end of the trunk was quite a fanciful box. It was nothing but a +common pine box, painted black, with “cut out” pictures pasted on it. +There were ladies’ faces, generals’ heads, bugs, horses, butterflies, +chairs, ships, birds, and in the centre of the cover, outside, there was +a large red rose on its stalk. At the centre, inside, was a laughing, or +rather a grinning face, cut from some comic magazine. In this box was +kept some of his more precious treasures,--a little brass anchor, a +silver pencil-case, a whole set of dominos, and a ball, very prettily +worked, orange-peel pattern, in many colors. This was a present from his +teacher. There was also a curious pearl-handled knife, with the blades +broken short off. She said he never felt so badly about breaking any +knife as when that got broken, for it was one his cousin brought him +home from sea. He was keeping it to have new blades put in. + +“How much this trunk reminds me of little Silas’s bureau-drawer!” I +said, taking up an old writing-book. As I spoke several bits of paper +fell out and among them were some very funny pictures, done with a +lead-pencil and then inked over. + +“What are these?” I asked. “Does he draw?” + +“Well--not exactly,” she answered,--“nothing that can be called drawing. +He tries sometimes to copy what he sees.” + +“I suppose I may look at them,” I said, picking up one of the bits of +paper. “Pray what is this?” + +Grandmother put on her spectacles, and turned the paper round, as if +trying to find the up and down of it. + +[Illustration] + +“O, this is Uncle Jacob chasing the calf,” said she; “those things that +look like elbows are meant for his legs kicking up. And on this piece +he’s tried to make the old gobbler flying at Georgiana. You see the +turkey is as big as she is. But maybe you don’t know which the turkey +is! That one is the fat man, and that one is the cat and kittens. And +that one is a dandy, making a bow. He saw one over at the hotel that he +took it from.” + +She was sitting by the bed, and as she named them, spread them out upon +it, one by one, along with some others I have not mentioned, all very +comical. When I had finished laughing over them I said,-- + +“I should like to send these pictures in my barrel. ’T would give the +little sick contrabands something to laugh at.” + +“Well, I’ll tell Billy when he comes,” she answered, then gathered them +up and smoothed the quilt again. + +The bedstead was a low one, without any posts, except that each leg +ended at the top with a little round, flat head or knob. The quilt was +made of light and dark patchwork. Grandmother told me, lowering her +voice, that Billy’s mother made that patchwork when she was a little +girl just learning to sew; but ’t was kept laid away, and about the last +work she ever did was to set it together. And ’t was her request that +Billy should have it on his bed. She said Billy was a very _feeling_ +boy, though he didn’t say much. One time, a couple years ago, she hung +that quilt out to blow, and forgot to take it in till after the dew +began to fall, so, being a little damp, she put on another one. But next +morning she looked in, and there ’t was, over him, spread on all skewy! + +“Sometimes I think,” she added, “that boys have more feeling than we +think for!” + +“I know they have!” I answered. + +A picture of William Henry’s mother hung opposite the bed. It was not a +very handsome face, nor a pretty face. But it had such an earnest, +loving, wistful expression, that I could not help exclaiming, +“Beautiful!” + +“Yes, she was a beautiful woman. We all loved her. She was just like a +daughter to me. Billy doesn’t know what he’s lost, and ’t is well he +don’t. I try to be a mother to him; but they say,” said the +tender-hearted old lady,--“they say a grandmother isn’t fit to have the +bringing up of a child! Billy has his faults.” + +“Now if I were a child,” I exclaimed, “I should rather you would have +the bringing up of me than anybody I know of! And ’t is my opinion, from +what I hear, that you’ve done well by Billy. Of course boys are boys, +and don’t always do us they ought to. Now there’s little Silas. He’s +been a world of trouble first and last. But then boys soon get big +enough to be ashamed of all their little bad ways. The biggest part of +’em like good men best, and mean to be good men. And I think Billy’s +going to grow up a capital fellow! A capital fellow! If a boy’s +true-hearted he’ll come out all right. And your boy is, isn’t he?” + +“O very!” she said. “Very!” + +I was so glad to think, after the old lady had gone down, that I’d said +something which, if she kept awake, thinking about the boy, would be a +comfort to her. + + * * * * * + +Next morning grandmother brought out quite an armful of old clothes. A +poor old couple, living near, she said, took most of hers and Mr. +Carver’s; but what few there were of Billy’s that were decent to send I +might have. A couple of linen jackets, a Scotch cap, two pairs of thin +trousers, not much worn, but outgrown, a small overcoat, several pairs +of stockings, and some shoes. And the boots also, and some +underclothing, that William Henry might have worn longer, she said, if +he were only living at home, where she could put a stitch in ’em now and +then. + +Grandmother sighed as she emptied the pockets of crumbles, green apples, +reins, bullets, and knotted, gray, balled-up pocket-handkerchiefs. Among +the clothes she brought out a funny little uniform, which I had seen +hanging up in his room,--one that he had when a soldier, or trainer, as +she called it, in a military company, formed near the beginning of the +war. It consisted of a blue flannel sack, edged with red braid, red +flannel Zouave trousers, and a blue flannel cap, bound with red, and +having a square visor. That uniform would fit some little contraband, +she said. + +“Hadn’t you better keep those?” I asked. “Won’t he want them?” + +“O no,” she said. “He’s outgrown them. And ’t is no use keeping them for +moths to get into.” + +She gave me some picture-books, and two primers, a roll of linen, and +quite a good blanket, all of which I received thankfully. + +In rolling up the different articles, I saw her eye resting so lovingly +on the little uniform, that I said, “Here, grandmother, hadn’t you +better take back these?” + +“O, I guess not,” she answered. “I guess you better send them. But,” she +added a moment after, “perhaps they might as well stay till you send +another barrel.” + +“Just exactly as well,” I said. And the old lady seemed as if she had +recovered a lost treasure. + +Aunt Phebe added a good many valuable articles, so that by the time +Uncle Jacob was ready to start I had collected two immense bundles, and +felt almost brave enough to face another barrel. For they all said they +would beg from their friends, and save things, and that I must certainly +come again. + +“For you know,” said Aunt Phebe, “’t is a great deal better to hear you +tell things than to read about them in the newspapers.” + +They stood about the door to see us off, and Matilda stroked the old +horse, and talked to him as if he understood. She broke off two heads +of phlox, red and white, and fastened them in behind his ear. Uncle +Jacob told me, as we rode along, that the old horse really expected to +be patted and talked to before starting. And indeed I noticed myself +that after being dressed up he stepped off with an exceedingly satisfied +air, just as I have seen some little girls,--and boys too, for that +matter, and occasionally grown people. + + * * * * * + +But it is quite time to give you the Letters. There should be more of +them, for the correspondence covers a period of about two years. ’T is +true that, after the first, William Henry did not write nearly as often. +But still there are many missing. Little Tommy cut up some into strings +of boys and girls, and at one time when grandmother wasn’t very well, +and had to hire help, the girl look some to kindle fire with. The old +lady said she was sitting up in her arm-chair, by the fireplace one day, +when she saw, in the corner, a piece of paper with writing on it, half +burnt up. She poked it out with a yardstick, and ’t was one of Billy’s +letters! Quite a number which were perfect have been omitted. This is +because that some coming between were missing; and so, as the children +say, there wouldn’t be any sense to them. Others contained mostly +private matters. Very few were dated. This is, however, of small +importance, as the Letters probably will never be brought forward to +decide a law case. + + + + +THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS. + + + +The first letter from William Henry which has been preserved seems to +have been written a few weeks after entering his school, and when he had +begun to get acquainted with the boys. Could the letter itself be made +to appear here, with its _very_ peculiar handwriting, and with all the +other distinctive marks of a boy’s first exploit on paper, it would be +found even more entertaining than when given in the printed form. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I think the school that I have come to is a very good school. We have +dumplings. I’ve tied up the pills that you gave me in case of feeling +bad, in the toe of my cotton stocking that’s lost the mate of it. The +mince pies they have here are baked without any plums being put into +them. So, please, need I say, No, I thank you, ma’am, to ’em when they +come round? If they don’t agree, shall I take the pills or the drops? Or +was it the hot flannels,--and how many? + +I’ve forgot about being shivery. Was it to eat roast onions? No, I guess +not. I guess it was a wet band tied round my head. Please write it down, +because you told me so many things I can’t remember. How can anybody +tell when anybody is sick enough to take things? You can’t think what a +great, tall man the schoolmaster is. He has got something very long to +flog us with, that bends easy, and hurts,--Q. S. So Dorry says. Q. S. is +in the abbreviations, and stands for a sufficient quantity. Dorry says +the master keeps a paint-pot in his room, and has his whiskers painted +black every morning, and his hair too, to make himself look scareful. +Dorry is one of the great boys. But Tom Cush is bigger. I don’t like Tom +Cush. + +I have a good many to play with; but I miss you and Towser and all of +them very much. How does my sister do? Don’t let the cow eat my +peach-tree. Dorry Baker he says that peaches don’t grow here; but he +says the cherries have peach-stones in them. In a month my birthday will +be here. How funny ’t will seem to be eleven, when I’ve been ten so +long! I don’t skip over any button-holes in the morning now; so my +jacket comes out even. + +Why didn’t you tell me I had a red head? But I can run faster than any +of them that are no bigger than I am, and some that are. One of the +spokes of my umbrella broke itself in two yesterday, because the wind +blew so when it rained. + +We learn to sing. He says I’ve a good deal of voice; but I’ve forgot +what the matter is with it. We go up and down the scale, and beat time. +The last is the best fun. The other is hard to do. But if I could only +get up, I guess ’t would be easy to come down. He thinks something ails +my ear. I thought he said I hadn’t got any at all. What have a feller’s +ears to do with singing, or with scaling up and down? + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. Here’s a conundrum Dorry Baker made: In a race, why would the +singing-master win? Because “Time flies,” and he _beats time_. + +I want to see Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy, dreadfully. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +This second letter must have been pleasing to Aunt Phebe, as it shows +that William Henry was beginning to have some faint regard for his +personal appearance. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I’ve got thirty-two cents left of my spending-money. When shall I begin +to wear my new shoes every day? The soap they have here is pink. Has +father sold the bossy calf yet? There’s a boy here they call Bossy Calf, +because he cried for his mother. He has been here three days. He sleeps +with me. And every night, after he has laid his head down on the pillow, +and the lights are blown out, I begin to sing, and to scale up and down, +so the boys can’t hear him cry. Dorry Baker and three more boys sleep in +the same room that we two sleep in. When they begin to throw bootjacks +at me, to make me stop my noise, it scares him, and he leaves off +crying. I want a pair of new boots dreadfully, with red on the tops of +them, that I can tuck my trousers into and keep the mud off. + +One thing more the boys plague me for besides my head. Freckles. Dorry +held up an orange yesterday. “Can you see it?” says he. “To be sure,” +says I. “Didn’t know as you could see through ’em,” says he, meaning +freckles. Dear grandmother, I have cried once, but not in bed. For fear +of their laughing, and of the bootjacks. But away in a good place under +the trees. A shaggy dog came along and licked my face. But oh! he did +make me remember Towser, and cry all over again. But don’t tell, for I +should be ashamed. I wish the boys would like me. Freckles come thicker +in summer than they do in winter. + +[Illustration] + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +If William Henry’s recipe for the prevention of spunkiness were +generally adopted, I fancy that many a boy would be seen practising the +circus performance here mentioned. It must have been “sure cure!” I well +remember the “plaguing” of my school days, and know from experience how +hard it is for a boy (or a man) always to keep his temper. The fellows +used to make fun of my name. In our quarrels, when there was nothing +else left to say, they would call out,--leaving off the Silas,--“Y Fry? +why not bake?” or “boil,” or “stew.” Of course to such remarks there was +no answer. + +It is to be regretted that so few of Grandmother’s letters were +preserved. As Billy here makes known the state of his pocket-book, we +may infer that she had been inquiring into his accounts, and perhaps +cautioning him against spending too freely. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I do what you told me. You told me to bite my lips and count ten, before +I spoke, when the boys plague me, because I’m a spunky boy. But doing it +so much makes my lips sore. So now I go head over heels sometimes, till +I’m out of breath. Then I can’t say anything. + +This is the account you asked me for, of all I’ve bought this week:-- + + Slippery elm 1 cent. + Corn-ball 1 cent. + Gum 1 cent. + +[Illustration] + +And I swapped a whip-lash that I found for an orange that only had one +suck sucked out of it. The “Two Betseys,” they keep very good things to +sell. They are two old women that live in a little hut with two rooms to +it, and a ladder to go up stairs by, through a hole in the wall. One +Betsey, she is lame and keeps still, and sells the things to us sitting +down. The other Betsey, she can run, and keeps a yardstick to drive away +boys with. For they have apple-trees in their garden. But she never +touches a boy, if she does catch him. They have hens and sell eggs. + +[Illustration] + +The boys that sleep in the same room that we do wanted Benjie and me to +join together with them to buy a great confectioner’s frosted cake, and +other things. And when the lamps had been blown out, to keep awake and +light them up again, and so have a supper late at night, with the +curtains all down and the blinds shut up, when people were in bed, and +not let anybody know. + +But Benjie hadn’t any money. Because his father works hard for his +living,--but his uncle pays for his schooling,--and he wouldn’t if he +had. And I said I wouldn’t do anything so deceitful. And the more they +said you must and you shall, the more I said I wouldn’t and I shouldn’t, +and the money should blow up first. + +So they called me “Old Stingy” and “Pepper-corn” and “Speckled +Potatoes.” Said they’d pull my hair if ’t weren’t for burning their +fingers. Dorry was the maddest one. Said he guessed my hair was tired of +standing up, and wanted to lie down to rest. + +I wish you would please send me a new comb, for the large end of mine +has got all but five of the teeth broken out, and the small end can’t +get through. I can’t get it cut because the barber has raised his price. +Send quite a stout one. + +I have lost two of my pocket-handkerchiefs, and another one went up on +Dorry’s kite, and blew away. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I did what you told me, when I got wet. I hung my clothes round the +kitchen stove on three chairs, but the cooking girl she flung them under +the table. So now I go wrinkled, and the boys chase me to smooth out the +wrinkles. I’ve got a good many hard rubs. But I laugh too. That’s the +best way. Some of the boys play with me now, and ask me to go round with +them. Dorry hasn’t yet. Tom Cush plagues the most. + +Sometimes the schoolmaster comes out to see us when we are playing ball, +or jumping. To-day, when we all clapped Dorry, the schoolmaster clapped +too. Somebody told me that he likes boys. Do you believe it? + +A cat ran up the spout this morning, and jumped in the window. Dorry was +going to choke her, or drown her, for the working-girl said she licked +out the inside of a custard-pie. I asked Dorry what he would take to let +her go, and he said five cents. So I paid. For she was just like my +sister’s cat. And just as likely as not somebody’s little sister would +have cried about it. For she had a ribbon tied round her neck. + +[Illustration] + +The woman that I go to have my buttons sewed on to, is a very good +woman. She gave me a cookie with a hole in the middle, and told me to +mind and not eat the hole. + +Coming back, I met Benjie, and he looked so sober, I offered it to him +as quick as I could. But it almost made him cry; because, he said, his +mother made her cookies with a hole in the middle. But when he gets +acquainted, he won’t be so bashful, and he’ll feel better then. + +We walked away to a good place under the trees, and he talked about his +folks, and his grandmother, and his Aunt Polly, and the two little +twins. They’ve got two cradles just like each other, and they are just +as big as each other, and just as old. They creep round on the floor, +and when one picks up anything, the other pulls it away. I wish we had +some twins. I told him things too. + +Kiss yourself for me. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. If you send a cake, send quite a large one. I like the kind that +Uncle Jacob does. Aunt Phebe knows. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I was going to tell you about “Gapper Skyblue.” “Gapper” means grandpa. +He wears all the time blue overalls, faded out, and a jacket like them. +That’s why they call him “Gapper Skyblue.” He’s a very poor old man. He +saws wood. We found him leaning up against a tree. Benjie and I were +together. His hair is all turned white, and his back is bent. He had +great patches on his knees. His hat was an old hat that he had given +him, and his shoes let in the mud. I wish you would please to be so good +as to send me both your old-fashioned india-rubbers, to make balls of, +as quick as holes come. Most all the boys have lost their balls. And +please to send some shoe-strings next time, for I have to tie mine up +all the time now with some white cord that I found, and it gets into +hard knots, and I have to stoop my head way down and untie ’em with my +teeth, because I cut my thumb whittling, and jammed my fingers in the +gate. + +Old Gapper Skyblue’s nose is pretty long, and he looked so funny leaning +up against a tree, that I was just going to laugh. But then I remembered +what you said a real gentleman would do. That he would be polite to all +people, no matter what clothes they had on, or whether they were rich +people or poor people. He had a big basket with two covers to it, and we +offered to carry it for him. + +He said, “Yes, little boys, if you won’t lift up the covers.” + +We found ’t was pretty heavy. And I wondered what was in it, and so did +Benjie. The basket was going to “The Two Betseys.” + +When we had got half-way there, Dorry and Tom Cush came along, and +called out: “Hallo! there, you two. What are you lugging off so fast?” + +[Illustration] + +We said we didn’t know. They said, “Let’s see.” We said, “No, you can’t +see.” Then they pushed us. Gapper was a good way behind. I sat down on +one cover, and Benjie on the other, to keep them shut up. + +Then they pulled us. I swung my arms round, and made the sand fly with +my feet, for I was just as mad as anything. Then Tom Cush hit me. So I +ran to tell Gapper to make haste. But first picked up a stone to send at +Tom Cush. But remembered about the boy that threw a stone and hit a boy, +and he died. I mean the boy that was hit. And so dropped the stone down +again and ran like lightning. + +“Go it, you pesky little red-headed firebug!” cried Tom Cush. + +“Go it, Spunkum! I’ll hold your breath,” Dorry hollered out. + +The dog, the shaggy dog that licked my face when I was lying under the +trees, he came along and growled and snapped at them, because they were +hurting Benjie. You see Benjie treats him well, and gives him bones. And +the master came in sight too. So they were glad to let us alone. + +The basket had rabbits in it. Gapper Skyblue wanted to pay us two cents +apiece. But we wouldn’t take pay. We wouldn’t be so mean. + +When we were going along to school, Bubby Short came and whispered to me +that Tom and Dorry were hiding my bird’s eggs in a post-hole. But I got +them again. Two broke. + +Bubby Short is a nice little fellow. He’s about as old as I am, but over +a head shorter and quite fat. His cheeks reach way up into his eyes. +He’s got little black eyes, and little cunning teeth, just as white as +the meat of a punkin-seed. + +I had to pay twenty cents of that quarter you sent, for breaking a +square of glass. But didn’t mean to, so please excuse. I haven’t much +left. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. When punkins come, save the seeds--to roast. If you please. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +One of my elbows came through, but the woman sewed it up again. I’ve +used up both balls of my twine. And my white-handled knife,--I guess it +went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn’t know of till after the +knife was lost. My trousers grow pretty short. But she says ’t is partly +my legs getting long. I’m glad of that. And partly getting ’em wet. + +I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tumbled down and scraped a hole +through the knee of my oldest pair. For it was very rotten cloth. I +guess the hole is too crooked to have her sew it up again. She thinks a +mouse ran up the leg, and gnawed that hole my knife went through, to get +the crumbles in the pocket. I don’t mean when they were on me, but +hanging up. + +My boat is almost rigged. She says she will hem the sails if I won’t +leave any more caterpillars in my pockets. I’m getting all kinds of +caterpillars to see what kind of butterflies they make. + +Yesterday, Dorry and I started from the pond to run and see who would +get home first. He went one way, and I went another. + +I cut across the Two Betseys’ garden. But I don’t see how I did so much +hurt in just once cutting across. I knew something cracked,--that was +the sink-spout I jumped down on, off the fence. There was a board I hit, +that had huckleberries spread out on it to dry. They went into the +rain-water hogshead. I didn’t know any huckleberries were spread out on +that board. + +I meant to go between the rows, but guess I stepped on a few beans. My +wrist got hurt dreadfully by my getting myself tripped up in a +squash-vine. And while I was down there, a bumble-bee stung me on my +chin. I stepped on a little chicken, for she ran the way I thought she +wasn’t going to. I don’t remember whether I shut the gate or not. But +guess not, for the pig got in, and went to rooting before Lame Betsey +saw him, and the other Betsey had gone somewhere. + +I got home first, but my wrist ached, and my sting smarted. You forgot +to write down what was good for bumble-bee stings. Benjie said his Aunt +Polly put damp sand on to stings. So he put a good deal of it on my +chin, and it got better, though my wrist kept aching in the night. And I +went to school with it aching. But didn’t tell anybody but Benjie. Just +before school was done, the master said we might put away our books. +Then he talked about the Two Betseys, and told how Lame Betsey got lame +by saving a little boy’s life when the house was on fire. She jumped out +of the window with him. And he made us all feel ashamed that we great +strong boys should torment two poor women. + +Then he told about the damage done the day before by some boy running +through their garden, and said five dollars would hardly be enough to +pay it. “I don’t know what boy it was, but if he is present,” says he, +“I call upon him to rise.” + +Then I stood up. I was ashamed, but I stood up. For you told me once +this saying: “Even if truth be a loaded cannon walk straight up to it.” + +The master ordered me not to go on to the playground for a week, nor be +out of the house in play-hours. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +I was very sorry that while in the neighborhood of the Crooked Pond +school, a short time since, lack of time prevented my finding out the +Two Betseys’ shop. These worthy women, as will be seen further on, +became William Henry’s firm friends. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Lame Betsey gave me something to put on my wrist that cured it. I went +there to ask how much money must be paid. I had sold my football, and my +brass sword, and my pocket-book. They told me they should not take any +money, but if I would saw some wood for them, and do an errand now and +then, they should be very glad. When I told Dorry, he threw up his hat, +and called out, “Three cheers for the ‘Two Betseys.’” And when his hat +came down, he picked it up and passed it round; “for,” says he, “we all +owe them something.” One great boy dropped fifty cents in. And it all +came to about four dollars. And Bubby Short carried it to them. But I +shall saw some wood for them all the same. + +Last evening it was rainy. A good many boys came into our room, and we +sat in a row, and every one said some verses, or told a riddle. These +two verses I send for Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy to learn. I guess he’s +done saying “Fishy, fishy in the brook” by this time, Dorry said he got +them out of the German. + + “When you are rich, + You can ride with a span; + But when you are poor, + You must go as you can. + + “Better honest and poor, + And go as you can, + Than rich and a rogue, + And ride with a span.” + +This riddle was too hard for me to guess. But Aunt Phebe’s girls like to +guess riddles, and I will send it to them. Mr. Augustus says that a +soldier made it in a Rebel prison. Mr. Augustus is a tall boy, that +knows a good deal, and wears spectacles, and that’s why we call him Mr. +Augustus. + +RIDDLE. + + I’m one half a Bible command, + That aye and forever shall stand; + And, throughout our beautiful land, + ’T is needed now to foil the traitorous band. + + I’m always around,--yet they say + Too often I’m out of the way. + Thereby leading astray; + I’m decked in jewels fine and rich array. + + Although from my heart I am stirred, + I can utter but one little word, + And that very seldom is heard; + My elder sister sometimes kept a bird. + + Reads the riddle clear to you? + I am very near to you: + Both very near and dear--to you, + Yet kept in chains. Does that seem queer to you? + +That about being “stirred from the heart” is all true. So is that about +being “_around_.” The “Bible command,” spoken of at the beginning, is +only in three words, or two words joined by “and.” This word is the +first half. But I mustn’t tell you too much. + +They are all _dear_. But some kinds are dearer than others. + +I wish my father would send me one. + +That about the bird is first-rate, though I never saw one of that kind +of--I won’t say what I mean (Dorry says you mustn’t say what you mean +when you tell riddles). But maybe you’ve seen one. They used to have +them in old times. + +I’ve launched my boat. She’s the biggest one in school. Dorry broke a +bottle upon her, and christened her the “General Grant.” The boys gave +three cheers when she touched water, and Benjie sent up his new kite. +It’s a ripper of a kite with a great gilt star on it that’s got eight +prongs. + +My hat blew off, and I had to go in swimming after it. It is quite +stiff. The master was walking by, and stopped to see the launching. When +he smiles, he looks just as pleasant as anything. + +He patted me on my cheek, and says he, “You ought to have called her the +‘Flying Billy.’” And then he walked on. + +“What does ‘Flying Billy’ mean?” says I. + +“It means you,” said Dorry. “And it means that you run fast, and that he +likes you. If a boy can run fast, and knows his multiplication-table, +and won’t lie, he likes him.” + +But how can such a great man like a small boy? + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. When the boys laugh at me, I laugh too. That’s a good way. + +P. S. There’s a man here that’s got nine puppies. If I had some money I +could buy one. The boys don’t plague me quite so much. I’m sorry you +dropped off your spectacles down the well. I suppose they sunk. I’ve got +a sneezing cold. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +About the spectacles, I may as well confess that I was the means of +their being lost. + +One day Uncle Jacob came into the office hastily, and, with a look of +distress, said to me very solemnly,-- + +“Mr. Fry, if you can, I want you to leave everything, and ride out with +me!” + +“Oh! what is the matter?” I exclaimed. + +“Why,” said he, “ever since we sent out word about old clothes, they’ve +been coming in so fast the rooms are all filled up, and we don’t know +where to go!” + +He then went on to tell that the notice had spread into all the +neighborhoods round about, and that bundles of every description were +constantly pouring in. They were left at the back door, front door, side +door, dropped on the piazza, and in at the windows. Men riding by tossed +them into the yard, and little boys came tugging bundles, bigger than +they could lift, or dragged them in roller-carts, or wheeled them in +wheelbarrows. He said he found bundles waiting for him at the store, at +the post-office, and he could hardly ride along the street without some +woman knocking at the window, and holding up one, and beckoning with her +forefinger for him to come in after it! Even in the meeting-house +somebody took a roll of something from under a shawl and handed him! He +would have brought, the parcels, or a part of them, but there was every +kind of a thing sent in,--white vests and flounced lace or muslin gowns, +and open-work stockings; and some things were too poor, and some were +too nice, and his folks thought Mr. Fry should come out. + +So what could I do but go? And, as it happened, I could “leave +everything” just as well as not, and was glad to. + + * * * * * + +Grandmother received me in the kindest manner, gave me a pair of black +yarn stockings, asked about the contrabands, talked about Billy, read me +his letters, and, on the whole, seemed much easier in her mind +concerning him than when I saw her before. + +She was skimming pans of milk. With her permission I watched the +skimming, for pans of milk to a city man were a rare sight to see! I was +also given some of the cream, and a baked Summer Sweeting to eat with +it. + +The cream was put into a large yellow bowl, and the bowl set in a +six-quart tin pail. It was then ready to be lowered into the well; for, +as country people seldom have ice, they use the well as a refrigerator, +and it is there they keep their butter, cream, fresh meat, or anything +that is likely to spoil. + +“Do let me lower it down the well for you,” I said; seeing that her hand +trembled a little; and besides, I hardly thought it prudent for her to +go out, as the grass was damp, there having been quite a sprinkle of +rain. + +“Well, if you’ve a mind to take the trouble,” she said, as she handed me +the pail, at the same time telling me to be particular about putting +stones around the bowl, in the bottom, to steady it. She then handed me +the line, and cautioned me about hitting another pail, which was already +down the well. + +Just as I went out Uncle Jacob passed through the gate into the garden, +to pick his mother some beans. + +“Sha’ n’t I do that?” he asked. + +“O no,” said I; “I am very glad to make myself useful.” + +Little Tommy stood by the well watching me, and I was talking to him and +playing with Towser, and by not attending to my business, I must have +tied a granny-knot, though I meant to tie a square one; and about +half-way down the pail slipped off, and went plump to the bottom. + +Little Tommy ran into the house calling out, “Grandmother! Grandmother! +that man lost your pail! Mr. Fwy let go of your pail!” + +Grandmother came running out and looked down. Her spectacles were tipped +up on top of her head; and when she bent over the well-curb they slipped +off, just touched the tip of her nose, and were out of sight in a +moment. + +Uncle Jacob came up laughing and said, “Of course the specs must go down +to see where the cream went to!” But Grandmother thought it was no +laughing matter. + +Mr. Carver and Uncle Jacob had a good many spells of fishing in the +well. At last Uncle Jacob was lucky enough to catch the handle of the +pail with his hook, and then he drew the pail up. It was found to be in +quite a damaged condition. The water looked creamy for some time. The +glasses never came to light. It seemed, therefore, no more than my duty +to send Grandmother another pair, which I did soon after in a bright new +six-quart pail, wishing with all my heart they were gold-bowed ones. But +I could not afford to do more than replace the lost ones. + +I will add that the six-quart pail was filled with the best of peaches. + + * * * * * + +The next three letters seem to have been sent at one time. Before they +reached Grandmother she had worked herself into a perfect fever of +anxiety. + +Owing to the rabbit affair, of which they contain the whole story, +William Henry had not felt like writing, so that, even before his +letter was begun, they at the farm were already looking for it to +arrive. Then it took a longer time than he expected to finish up his +account of the matter; and when at last the letter was sealed and +directed, the boy who carried it to the post-office forgot his errand, +and it hung in an overcoat pocket several days. No wonder, then, the old +lady grew anxious. + +I was at the farm at the time they were looking for the letters, and I +really tried very hard to be entertaining; but not the funniest story I +could tell about the funniest little rollypoly contraband in the +hospital could excite more than a passing smile. + +Aunt Phebe gave me my charge before I went in. + +“You must be lively,” said she. “Be lively! Turn her thoughts off of +Billy! That’s the way! Though I do feel worried,” she added. “’T is a +puzzle why we don’t have letters. I’m afraid something _is_ the matter, +or else it seems to me we should. He’s been very good about writing. If +anything has happened to Billy, I don’t know what we should do. ’T would +come pretty hard to Grandmother. And I do have my fears! But ’t won’t do +to let her know I worry about him. And you better be very lively! We all +have to be!” + +I observed that Mr. Carver, although he talked very calmly with his +mother, and urged her to rest easy, was after all not so very much at +ease himself. He sat by the window apparently reading a newspaper. But +it was plain that he only wished Grandmother to think he was reading; +for he paid but little attention to the paper, and was constantly +looking across the garden to see when Uncle Jacob should get back from +the post-office; and the moment Towser barked he folded his paper and +went out. Grandmother put on her “out-door” spectacles, and stood at the +window. When Mr. Carver returned she glanced rapidly over him with an +earnest, beseeching look, which seemed to say that it was not possible +but that somewhere about him, in some pocket, or in his hat, or shut up +in his hand, there must be a letter. + +“The mail was late,” Mr. Carver said; “Uncle Jacob couldn’t wait, and +had left the boy to fetch it.” + +Grandmother was setting the table. In her travels to and from the +buttery she stopped often to glance up the road, and during meal-time +her eyes were constantly turning to the windows. + +Presently Aunt Phebe came in. + +“The boy didn’t bring any letters,” said she; “but I’ve been thinking it +over, and for my part I don’t think ’t is worth while to worry. No news +is good news. Bad news travels fast. A thousand things might happen to +keep a boy from writing. He might be out of paper, or out of stamps, or +out of anything to write about, or might have lessons to learn, or be +too full of play, or be kept after school, or might a good many things!” + +“You don’t suppose,” said Grandmother, “that--you don’t think--it +couldn’t be possible, could it, that Billy’s been punished and feels +ashamed to tell of it?” + +“Nonsense!” said Aunt Phebe. “Now don’t, Grandmother, I beg of you get +started off on that notion! Yesterday ’t was the measles. And day before +’t was being drowned, and now ’t is being punished!” + +“’T wouldn’t be like William not to tell of it,” said Mr. Carver. + +“Not a bit like him,” said Aunt Phebe. + +“No,” said Grandmother, “I don’t think it would. But you know when +anybody gets to thinking, they are apt to think of everything.” + +I told them there was a possibility of the letter being mis-sent. And +that idea reminded me of just such an anxious time we had once about +little Silas. His letter went to a town of the same name in Ohio, and +was a long time reaching us. I made haste to tell this to Grandmother, +and thought it comforted her a little. + +When I left the next morning, Mr. Carver followed me out and asked me to +make inquiries in regard to the telegraphic communication with the +Crooked Pond School, and to be in readiness to telegraph; for, in case +no letter came that day, he should send me word to do so. + +But no word arrived, as the next mail brought the following letters, +with their amusing illustrations. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I suppose if I should tell you I had had a whipping you would feel +sorry. Well, don’t feel sorry. I will begin at the beginning. + +We can’t go out evenings. But last Monday evening one of the teachers +said I might go after my overjacket that I took off to play ball, and +left hanging over a fence. It was a very light night. I had to go down a +long lane to get where it was; and when I got there, it wasn’t there. +The moon was shining bright as day. Old Gapper Skyblue lives down that +lane. He raises rabbits. He keeps them in a hen-house. + +Now I will tell you what some of the great boys do sometimes. They steal +eggs and roast them. There is a fireplace in Tom Cush’s room. Once they +roasted a pullet. The owners have complained so that the master said he +would flog the next boy that robbed a hen-house or an orchard, before +the whole school. + +Now I will go on about my overjacket. While I was looking for it I heard +a queer noise in the rabbit-house. So I jumped over. Then a boy popped +out of the rabbit-house and ran. I knew him in a minute, for all he ran +so fast,--Tom Cush. + +[Illustration] + +Now when he started to run, something dropped out of his hand. I went up +to it, and ’t was a rabbit, a dead one, just killed; for when I stooped +down and felt of it, it was warm. And while I was stooping down, there +came a great heavy hand down on my shoulder. It was a man’s great heavy +hand. + +Gapper had set a man there to watch. He hollered into my ears, “Now I’ve +got you!” I hollered, too, for he came sudden, without my hearing. + +“You little thief!” says he. + +“I didn’t kill it,” says I. + +“You little liar!” says he. + +“I’m not a liar,” says I. + +“I’ll take you to the master,” says he. + +“Take me where you want to,” says I. + +Then he pulled me along, and kept saying, “Who did, if you didn’t? If +you didn’t, who did?” + +And he walked me straight up into the master’s room, without so much as +giving a knock at the door. + +“I’ve brought you a thief and a liar,” says he. Then he told where he +found me, and what a bad boy I was. Then he went away, because the +master wanted to talk with me all by myself. + +Now I didn’t want to tell tales of Tom, for it’s mean to tell tales. So +all I could say was that I didn’t do it. + +The master looked sorry. Said he was afraid I had begun to go with bad +boys. “Didn’t I see you walking in the lane with Tom Cush yesterday?” +says he. I said I was helping him find his ball. And so I was. + +“If you were with the boys who did this,” said he, “or helped about it +in any way, that’s just as bad.” + +I said I didn’t help them, or go with them. + +“How came you there so late?” says he. + +“I went after my overjacket,” says I. + +“And where is your overjacket?” says he. + +I said I didn’t know. It wasn’t there. + +Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the +morning. + +When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as +still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never +go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt. +Course, I knew ’t wouldn’t be like one of your little whippings. I +wasn’t so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being +whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you +about the next morning, and how I was waked up. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I had to leave off and jump up and run to school without stopping to +sign my name, for the bell rang. But, now school is done, I will write +another letter to send with that, because you will want to know the end +at the same time you do the beginning. + +It was little pebbles that waked me up the next morning,--little pebbles +dropping down on my face. I looked up to find where they came from, and +saw Tom Cush standing in the door. He was throwing them. He made signs +that he wanted to tell me something. So I got up. And while I was +getting up, I saw my overjacket on the back of a chair. I found out +afterwards that Benjie brought it in, and forgot to tell me. + +Tom made signs for me to go down stairs with him. He wouldn’t let me put +my shoes on. He had his in his hand, and I carried mine so. So we went +through the long entries in our stocking-feet, and sat down on the +doorstep to put our shoes on. Nobody else had got up. The sky was +growing red. I never got up so early before, except one Fourth of July, +when I didn’t go to bed, but only slept some with my head leaned down on +a window-seat, and jumped up when I heard a gun go off. Tom carried me +to a place a good ways from the house. Our shoes got soaking wet with +dew. + +Now I will tell you what he said to me. + +He asked me if I saw him anywhere the night before. I said I did. + +He asked me where I saw him. + +I said I saw him coming out of the hen-house, where Gapper Skyblue kept +his rabbits. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was sure. + +“And did you tell the master?” says he. + +I said, “No.” + +“Nor the boys?” + +“No.” + +Then he told me he had been turned away from one school on account of +his bad actions, and he wouldn’t have his father hear of this for +anything; and said that, if I wouldn’t tell, he would give me a +four-bladed knife, and quite a large balloon, and show me how to send +her up, and if I was flogged he would give me a good deal more, would +give money,--would give two dollars. + +“I don’t believe he’ll whip you,” says he, “for he likes you. And if he +does, he wouldn’t whip a small boy so hard as he would a big one.” + +I said a little whipping would hurt a little boy just as much as a great +whipping would hurt a great boy. But I said I wouldn’t be mean enough to +tell or to take pay for not telling. + +He didn’t say much more. And we went towards home then. But before we +came to the house, he turned off into another path. + +A little while after, I heard somebody walking behind me. I looked +round, and there was the master. He’d been watching with a sick man all +night. + +He asked me where I had been so early. I said I had been taking a walk. +He asked who the boy was that had just left me. I said ’t was Tom Cush. +He asked if I was willing to tell what we had been talking about. I said +I would rather not tell. + +Says he, “It has a bad look, your being out with that boy so early, +after what happened last night.” + +Then he asked me where I had found my overjacket. I said, “In my +chamber, sir, on a chair-back.” + +“And how came it there?” says he. + +“I don’t know, sir,” says I. + +And, Grandmother, I almost cried; for everything seemed going against +me, to make me out a bad boy. I will tell the rest after supper. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Now I will tell you what happened that afternoon. + +The school was about half done. + +The master gave three loud raps with his ruler. + +This made the room very still. + +He asked the other teachers to come up to the platform. And they did. + +Next, he waved his ruler, and said, “Fold.” + +And we all folded our arms. + +It was so still that we could hear the clock tick. + +He told Tom Cush to close the windows and shut the blinds. + +Then he talked to us about stealing and telling lies. Said he didn’t +like to punish, but it must be done. He said he had reason to believe +that the boy whose name he should call out was not honest, that he took +other people’s things and told lies. + +Then he told the story, all that he knew about it, and said he hoped +that all concerned in it would have honor enough to speak out and own +it. + +Nobody said anything. + +Then the master said, “William Henry, you may come to the platform.” + +I went up. + +Somebody way in the back part shouted out, “Don’t believe it!” + +“Silence!” said the master. And he thumped his ruler on the desk. + +Then he told me to take off my jacket, and fold it up. And I did. + +He told me to hand my collar and ribbon to a teacher. And I did. + +Then he laid down his ruler, and took his rod and bent it to see if it +was limber. It wasn’t exactly a rod. It was the thing I told you about +when I first came to this school. + +[Illustration] + +He tried it twice on the desk first. + +Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my back round towards him. +He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the +neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight. + +At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, “Master! Master! Stop! Don’t! +He didn’t do it! He didn’t kill it! I know who! I’ll tell! I will! I +will! I don’t care what Tom Cush does! ’T was Tom Cush killed it!” + +The master didn’t say one word. But he handed me my jacket. + +The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them. + +Then he said to me, whispering, “Is this so, William?” And I said, low, +“Yes, sir.” + +Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down +he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly,--it made me remember the +way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, “My dear boy,” then +stopped and began again, “My dear boy,” and stopped again. If he’d been +a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a +man wouldn’t. And what should he cry for? It wasn’t he that almost had a +whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then +Bubby Short was called up to the platform. + +Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it. + +He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of +Tom’s. ’T isn’t much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him. +That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby +Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom +telling another boy about the rabbit. + +He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he +peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a +black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and +made, when he was running. + +But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, +and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he +would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me. + +Wasn’t he a nice little fellow to tell? + +O, I was so glad when the boys all clapped! And when we were let out, +they came and shook hands with Bubby Short and me. Great boys and all. +Mr. Augustus, and Dorry, and all. And the master told me how glad he was +that he could keep on thinking me to be an honest boy. + +Now aren’t you glad you didn’t feel sorry? + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +The next time I went down to the farm I was told, of course, all about +the foregoing letters,--how they were received, and what effect they +produced in the family when they were read. Grandmother, however, gives +a happy account of the reception and reading of them in the following +reply, which she wrote soon after they were received. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother’s Letter to William Henry, in reply._ + +MY DEAR LITTLE BOY,-- + +Your poor old grandmother was so glad to get those letters, after such +long waiting! My dear child, we were anxious; but now we are pleased. I +was afraid you were down with the measles, for they’re about. Your aunt +Phebe thinks you had ’em when you were a month old; but I know better. + +Your father was anxious himself at not hearing; though he didn’t show it +any. But I could see it plain enough. As soon as he brought the letters +in, I set a light in the window to let your aunt Phebe know she was +wanted. She came running across the yard, all of a breeze. You know how +your aunt Phebe always comes running in. + +“What is it?” says she. “Letters from Billy? I mistrusted ’t was letters +from Billy. In his own handwriting? Must have had ’em pretty light. +Measles commonly leave the eyes very bad.” + +But you know how your aunt Phebe goes running on. Your father came in, +and sat down in his rocking-chair,--your mother’s chair, dear. Your +sister was sewing on her doll’s cloak by the little table. She sews +remarkably well for a little girl. + +“Now, Phebe,” says I, “read loud, and do speak every word plain.” I put +on my glasses, and drew close up, for she does speak her words so fast. +I have to look her right in the face. + +At the beginning, where you speak about being whipped, your father’s +rocking-chair stopped stock still. You might have heard a pin drop. +Georgianna said, “O dear!” and down dropped the doll’s cloak. “Pshaw!” +said Aunt Phebe, “’t isn’t very likely our Billy’s been whipped.” + +Then she read on and on, and not one of us spoke. Your father kept his +arms folded up, and never raised his eyes. I had to look away, towards +the last, for I couldn’t see through my glasses. Georgianna cried. And, +when the end came, we all wiped our eyes. + +“Now what’s the use,” said Aunt Phebe, “for folks to cry before they’re +hurt?” + +“But you almost cried yourself,” said Georgianna. “Your voice was +different, and your nose is red now.” And that was true. + +After your sister was in bed, and Aunt Phebe gone, your father says to +me: “Grandma, the boy’s like his mother.” And he took a walk around the +place, and then went off to his bedroom without even opening his night’s +paper. If ever a man set store by his boy, that man is your father. And, +O Billy, if you had done anything mean, or disgraced yourself in any +way, what a dreadful blow ’t would have been to us all! + +The measles come with a cough. The first thing is to drive ’em out. Get +a nurse. That is, if you catch them. They’re a natural sickness, and one +sensible old woman is better than half a dozen doctors. Saffron’s good +to drive ’em out. + +Aunt Phebe is knitting you a comforter. As if she hadn’t family enough +of her own to do for! + +From your loving + +GRANDMOTHER. + + * * * * * + +I think this the proper place to insert the following letter from Dorry +Baker to his sister. I am sorry we have so few of Dorry’s letters. Two +very entertaining ones will be given presently, describing a visit Dorry +made to William Henry’s home. The two boys, as we shall see, soon after +their acquaintance, grew to be remarkably good friends. Mr. Baker, +Dorry’s father, hearing his son’s glowing accounts of William Henry’s +family, took a little trip to Summer Sweeting place on purpose to see +them, and was so well pleased with Grandmother, Mr. Carver, Uncle Jacob, +and the rest, as to suggest to his wife that they should buy some land +in the vicinity, and turn farmers. He and Grandmother had a very +pleasant talk about their boys; and not long after, knowing, I suppose, +that it would gratify the old lady, he sent her some of Dorry’s letters, +that she might have the pleasure of reading for herself what Dorry had +written about her Billy, and about Billy’s people and Billy’s home. +Perhaps, too, Mr. Baker was a little bit proud of the smart letters his +son could write. + + * * * * * + +_Dorry’s Letter to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +If mother’s real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But +if it’s baking-day, or washing-day, or company’s coming off, or +preserves going on, or anything’s upset down below; or if she’s got a +headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that’s bad,--then wait. + +I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Saturday. Not a +very big boy,--do very well to “Philopene” with you: won’t put her out a +bit. + +If you don’t like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came +we used to plague him on account of his looks. He’s got a furious head +of hair, and freckles. But we don’t think at all about his looks now. If +anything, we like his looks. + +He’s just as pleasant and gen’rous, and not a mean thing about him. I +don’t believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn’t. +He’s always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give +anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat +to make their side beat. You don’t catch William Henry at any such mean +business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too. + +I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other +boys. + +One day he had a box come from home. ’T was his birthday. It was full of +good things. Says I to the boys, “Now, maybe, if we hadn’t plagued him +so, he would give us some of his goodies.” + +That very afternoon, when we had done playing, and ran up to brush the +mud off our trousers, we found a table all spread out with a table-cloth +that he had borrowed, and in the middle was a frosted cake with “W. H.” +on top done in red sugar. And close to that were some oranges, and a +dish full of nuts, and as much as a pound of candy, and more figs than +that, and four great cakes of maple-sugar, made on his father’s land, as +big as small johnny-cakes, and another kind of cake. And doughnuts. + +“Come, boys,” says he, “help yourselves.” + +But not a boy stirred. + +I felt my face a-blushing like everything. O, we were all of us just as +ashamed as we could be! We didn’t dare go near the table. But he kept +inviting us, and at last began to pass them round. + +And I tell you the things were tip-top and more too. Such cake! And +doughnuts, that his cousin made! And tarts! You must learn how. But I +don’t believe you ever could. Of course we had manners enough not to +take as much as we wanted. I want to tell you some more things about +him. But wait till I come. He’s most as old as you are, and is always a +laughing, the same as you are. + +Ask mother what I told you. Take her at her cleverest, and don’t eat up +all the sweet apples. + +From your brother, + +DORRY. + +P. S. Put some away in meal to mellow. Don’t mellow ’em with your +knuckles. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Baker, I imagine, was not particularly fond of boys. She gave her +permission, however, for Dorry to bring a “muddy-shoed” companion home +with him, as we see by the following letter from William Henry to his +grandmother. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from William Henry._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Dorry asked his sister to ask his mother if he might ask me to go home +with him. And she said yes; but to wait a week first, because the house +was just got ready to have a great party, and she couldn’t stand two +muddy-shoed boys. May I go? + +Tom Cush was sent home; but he didn’t go. His father lives in the same +town that Dorry does. He has been here to look for him. + +I never went to make anybody a visit. I hope you will say yes. I should +like to have some money. Everybody tells boys not to spend money; but +if they knew how many things boys want, and everything tasted so good, I +believe they would spend money themselves. Please write soon. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +To this short letter Grandmother sent at once the following reply; and +in the succeeding letters from William Henry we get a pretty good idea +of what sort of people Dorry’s folks were, and also hear something about +Tom Cush. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother’s Second Letter._ + +MY DEAR BOY,-- + +Do you have clothes enough on your bed? Ask for an extra blanket. I do +hope you will take care of yourself. When the rain beats against the +windows, I think, “Now who will see that he stands at the fire and dries +himself?” And you’re very apt to hoarse up nights. We are willing you +should go to see Dorry. Your uncle J. has been past his father’s place, +and he says there’s been a pretty sum of money laid out there. Behave +well. Wear your best clothes. Your aunt Phebe has bought a book for her +girls that tells them how to behave. It is for boys too, or for anybody. +I shall give you a little advice, and mix some of the book in with it. + +Never interrupt. Some children are always putting themselves forward +when grown people are talking. Put “sir” or “ma’am” to everything you +say. Make a bow when introduced. If you don’t know how, try it at a +looking-glass. Black your shoes, and toe out if you possibly can. I +hope you know enough to say “Thank you,” and when to say it. Take your +hat off, without fail, and step softly, and wipe your feet. + +Be sure and have some woman look at you before you start, to see that +you are all right. Behave properly at table. The best way will be to +watch and see how others do. But don’t stare. There is a way of looking +without seeming to look. A sideways way. + +Anybody with common sense will soon learn how to conduct properly; and +even if you should make a mistake, when trying to do your best, it isn’t +worth while to feel very much ashamed. _Wrong_ actions are the ones to +be ashamed of. And let me say now, once for all, never be ashamed +because your father is a farmer and works with his hands. Your father’s +a man to be proud of; he is kind to the poor; he is pleasant in his +family; he is honest in his business; he reads high kind of books; he’s +a kind, noble Christian man; and Dorry’s father can’t be more than all +this, let him own as much property as he may. + +I mention this because young folks are apt to think a great deal more of +a man that has money. + +Your aunt Phebe wants to know if you won’t write home from Dorry’s, +because her Matilda wants a stamp from that post-office. If the colt +brings a very good price, you may get a very good answer to your riddle. + +From your loving + +GRANDMOTHER. + +P. S. Take your overcoat on your arm. When you come away, bid good by, +and say that you have had a good time. If you have had,--not without. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry’s Reply._ + +DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I am here. The master let us off yesterday noon, and we got here before +supper, and this is Saturday night, and I have minded all the things +that you said. I got all ready and went down to the Two Betseys to let +some woman look at me, as you wrote. They put on both their spectacles +and looked me all over, and picked off some dirt-specks, and made me +gallus up one leg of my trousers shorter, and make some bows, and then +walk across the room slow. + +They thought I looked beautiful, only my hair was too long. Lame Betsey +said she used to be the beater for cutting hair, and she tied her apron +round my throat, and brought a great pair of shears out, that she used +to go a-tailoring with. The Other Betsey, she kept watch to see when +both sides looked even. + +Lame Betsey tried very hard. First she stood off to look, and then she +stood on again. She said her mother used to keep a quart-bowl on purpose +to cut her boys’ hairs with; she clapped it over their heads, and then +clipped all round by it even. The shears were jolly shears, only they +couldn’t stop themselves easy, and the apron had been where snuff was, +and made me sneeze in the wrong place. Says I, “If you’ll only take off +this apron, I’ll jump up and shake myself out even.” I’m so glad I’m a +boy. Aprons are horrid. So are apron-strings, Dorry says. + +They gave me a few peppermints, and said to be sure not to run my head +out and get it knocked off in the cars, and not to get out till we +stopped going, and to beware of pickpockets. + +[Illustration] + +O, we did have a jolly ride in the cars! Do you think my father would +let me be the boy that sells papers in the cars? I wish he would. I +didn’t see any pickpockets. We got out two miles before we got there. I +mean to the right station. For Dorry wanted to make his sister Maggie +think we hadn’t come. + +We took a short cut through the fields. Not very short. And went through +everything. My best clothes too. But I guess ’t will all rub off. There +were some boggy places. + +When we came out at Dorry’s house, it was in the back yard. I said to +Dorry, “There’s your mother on the doorstep. She looks clever.” + +Dorry said, “She? She’s the cook. I’ll tell mother of that. No, I won’t +neither.” + +I suppose he saw I’d rather he wouldn’t. The cook said everybody had +gone out. Then Dorry took me into a jolly great room and left me. Three +kinds of curtains to every window! What’s the use of that? Gilt spots on +the paper, and gilt things hanging down from up above. A good many kinds +of chairs. I was going to sit down, but they kept sinking in. Everything +sinks in here. I tried three, and this made me laugh, for I seemed to +myself like the little boy that went to the bears’ house and tried their +chairs, and their beds, and their bowls of milk. Then I came to a +looking-glass big enough for the very biggest bear. I thought I would +make some bows before it, as you said. I was afraid I couldn’t make a +bow and toe out at the same time. Because it is hard to think up and +down both at once. While I was trying to, I heard a little noise, I +looked round, and--what do you think? Bears? O no. Not bears. A queen +and a princess, I thought. All over bright colors and feathers and shiny +silks. The queen--that’s Dorry’s mother you know,--couldn’t think who I +was, because they had been to the depot, and thought we hadn’t come. So +she looked at me hard, and I suppose I was very muddy. And she said, +“Were you sent of an errand here?” Before I could make up any answer, +Dorry came in. He had some cake, and he passed it round with a very +sober face. Then he introduced me, and I made quite a good bow, and +said, “Very well, I thank you, ma’am.” + +I tried to pull my feet behind me, and wished I was sitting down, for +she kept looking towards them; and I wanted to sit down on the lounge, +but I was afraid ’t wouldn’t bear. She was quite glad to see Dorry. But +didn’t hug him very hard. I know why. Because she had those good things +on. Dorry’s grandmother lives here. She can’t bear to hear a door slam. +She wears her black silk dress every day. And her best cap too. ’T is a +stunner of a cap. White as anything. And a good deal of white strings to +it. Everything makes her head ache. I’d a good deal rather have you. +When boys come nigh, she puts her hand out to keep them off. This is +because she has nerves. Dorry says his mother has ’em sometimes. I like +his father. Because he talks to me some. But he’s very tired. His office +tires him. He isn’t a very big man. He doesn’t laugh any. If Maggie was +a boy she’d be jolly. She’ll fly kites, or anything, if her mother isn’t +looking. Her mother don’t seem a bit like Aunt Phebe. I don’t believe +she could lift a teakettle. Not a real one. When she catches hold of her +fork, she sticks her little finger right up in the air. She makes very +pretty bows to the company. Sinks way down, almost out of sight. She +gave us a dollar to spend; wasn’t she clever? Dorry says she likes him +tip-top. If he’ll only keep out of the way. + +I guess I’d rather live at our house. About every room in this house is +too good for a boy. But I tell you they have tip-top things here. Great +pictures and silver dishes! Now, I’ll tell you what I mean to do when +I’m a man. I shall have a great nice house like this, and nice things in +it. But the folks shall be like our folks. I shall have horses, and a +good many silver dishes. And great pictures, and gilt books for children +that come a-visiting. And you shall have a blue easy-chair, and sit down +to rest. + +Now, maybe you’ll say, “But, Billy, Billy, where are you going to get +all these fine things?” O you silly grandmother! Don’t you remember your +own saying that you wrote down?--“What a man wants he can get, if he +tries hard enough.” Or a boy either, you said. I shall try hard enough. +There’s more to write about. But I’m sleepy. I would tell you about Tom +Cush’s father coming here, only my eyes can’t keep open. Isn’t it funny +that when you are sleepy your eyes keep shutting up and your mouth keeps +coming open? Please excuse the lines that go crooked. There’s another +gape! I guess Aunt Phebe will be tired reading all this. I’m on her +side. I mean about measles. I’d rather have ’em when I was a month old. +I suppose I was a month old once. Don’t seem as if ’t was the same one I +am now. But if I do have ’em,--there I go gaping again,--if I catch ’em, +and all the doctors do come, I’ll--O dear! There I go again. I do +believe I’m asleep--I’ll--I’ll get some natural-born old woman to drive +’em out, as you said, and good night. + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I am back again, and had a good time; but came back hungry. I’ll tell +you why. The first time I sat down to table I felt bashful, and Dorry’s +mother said a great deal about my having a small appetite, and +afterwards I didn’t like to make her think it was a large one. + +I guess I behaved quite well at the table. But I couldn’t look the way +you said. It made me feel squint-eyed. Once I almost laughed at table. +The day they had roast duck, it smelt nice. I thought it wouldn’t go +round, for they had company besides me; and I said, “No, I thank you, +ma’am.” Dorry whispered to me, “You must be a goose not to love duck”; +and that was when I almost laughed at table. His grandmother shook her +head at him. + +Now I’ll tell about Tom Cush’s father. That Saturday, when we were +eating dinner, somebody came to the front door, and inquired for us +two,--Dorry and me. It was Tom Cush’s father. He wanted to ask us about +Tom, and whether we knew anything about him. But we knew no more than he +did. He talked some with us. The next evening,--Sunday evening,--Tom +Cush’s mother sent for Dorry and me to come and see her. His father came +after us. She said they wanted to know more about what I wrote to you in +those letters. + +O, I don’t want ever again to go where the folks are so sober. The room +was just as still as anything, not much light burning, and great +curtains hanging way down, and she looked like a sick woman. Just as +pale! Only sometimes she stood up and walked, and then sat down again, +and leaned way forward, and asked a question, and looked into our faces +so. We didn’t know what to do. Dorry talked more than I could. Tom’s +father kept just as sober! He said to Dorry: “It is true, then, that my +boy wouldn’t own up to his own actions?” or something like that. + +Dorry said, “Yes, sir.” + +Tom’s father said, “And he was willing to sit still and see another boy +whipped in his place?” + +“Yes, sir,” Dorry said. But he didn’t say it very loud. + +Then they stopped asking questions, and not one of us spoke for ever so +long. O, ’t was so still! At last Dorry said, just as softly, “Can’t you +find him anywhere?” And then I said that I didn’t believe he was lost. + +Then Tom’s father got up from his chair and said, “Lost? That’s not it. +That’s not it. ’T is his not being honorable! ’T is his not being true! +Lost? Why, he was lost before he left the school.” Says he: “When he did +a mean thing, then he lost himself. For he lost his truth. He lost his +honor. There’s nothing left worth having when they are gone.” + +O, I never saw Dorry so sober as he was that night going home. And when +we went to bed, he hardly spoke a word, and didn’t throw pillows, or +anything. I shut my eyes up tight and thought about you all at home, and +Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy, and about school, and about +Bubby Short, and all the time Tom’s mother’s eyes kept looking at me +just as they did; and when I was asleep I seemed back again in that +lonesome room, and they two sitting there. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I want to tell that when I was at Dorry’s I let a little vase fall +down and break. I didn’t think it was so rotten. I felt sorry; but +didn’t say so; I didn’t know how to say it very well. I wish grown-up +folks would know that boys feel sorry very often when they don’t say +so, and sometimes they think about doing right, too. And mean to, but +don’t tell of it. Next time I shall tell about Bubby Short and me going +to ride in Gapper’s donkey-cart. He’s going to lend it to us. I should +like to buy them a new vase. + +W. H. + +P. S. Benjie’s had a letter, and one twin fell down stairs. + + * * * * * + +There is one sentence in the first paragraph of the following letter +which reminds me of a very windy day, when I was staying at Summer +Sweeting place. + +In returning from a walk, by a short cut across the field, I met a boy +who was running just about as fast as he could. + +Soon after I came to another and much smaller boy, who was not running +at all, but was sitting flat upon the ground, under a tree, and crying +with might and main. This smaller boy proved to be Tommy. On a branch of +the tree, just out of his reach, hung a broom, towards which his weeping +eyes were turned in despair. A paper of peanuts which I happened to have +soon quieted him, because, in order to crack them, he had to shut his +mouth. At the first of it, however, he went on with his crying while +picking out the meats, which so amused me that I was obliged to turn +aside and laugh. + +It appeared that Tommy had been riding horseback on his mother’s broom +“to see Billy,” and when he had made believe get there, he wanted to +hitch his horse. A larger boy, out of mischief, or rather in mischief, +bent down a branch of the tree, telling Tommy there was a tiptop thing +to tie up to. He helped Tommy to tie the horse to the branch, and then +ran off across the field. It is very plain what happened when the branch +sprang back to its place. + +I unhitched the _animal_, and then Tommy and I mounted it, he behind me, +and away we cantered to the house, my amazing gallops causing the little +chap to laugh as loudly as he had cried. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Please to tell my sister I am much obliged to her for picking up that +old iron for me. But that old rusty fire-shovel handle, I guess that +will not do to put in again. For my father said, the last time, that he +had bought that old fire-shovel handle half a dozen times. But Aunt +Phebe’s Tommy, he pulls it out again to ride horseback on. + +I know a little girl just about as big as my sister, named Rosy. Maybe +that is not her name. Maybe it is, because her face is so rosy. She had +a lamb. And she’s lost it. It ate out of her hand, and it followed her. +It was a pet lamb. But it’s lost. Gapper came up to inquire about it. +Mr. Augustus wrote a notice and nailed it on to the Liberty Pole, and +then Dorry chalked out a white lamb on black pasteboard, and painted a +blue ribbon around its neck, and hung that up there too. + +Gapper let Bubby Short and me have his donkey-cart to go to ride in. He +kicked up when we licked him, and broke something. But a man came by and +mended it. So we didn’t get back till after dark. But the master didn’t +say anything after we told the reason why. Did you ever see a ghost? Do +you believe they can whistle? I’ll tell you what I ask such a question +for. + +There is an old house, and part of it is torn down, and nobody lives in +it. It is built close to where the woods begin. The boys say there is a +ghost in it. I’ll tell you why. They say that if anybody goes by there +whistling, something inside of that house whistles the same tune. Dorry +says it’s a jolly old ghost. Mr. Augustus thinks ’tis all very silly. +Now I’ll tell you something. + +The night Bubby Short and I were coming back from taking a ride in +Gapper’s donkey-cart, we tried it. We didn’t dare to lick him again, for +fear he would kick up, so we rode just as slow!--and it was a lonesome +road, but the moon was shining bright. + +Says Bubby Short, “Do you believe that’s the honeymoon?” + +“No,” says I. “That’s what shines when a man is married to his wife.” + +“Are you scared of ghosts?” said Bubby Short. + +“Can’t tell till I see one,” says I. + +“How far off do you suppose they can see a fellow?” says he. + +Says I, “I don’t know. They can see best in the dark.” + +“Do you think they’d hurt a fellow?” says he. + +“Maybe,” says I. “There’s the old house.” + +“I know it,” says he; “I’ve been looking at it.” + +Says I, “Are you scared to whistle?” + +“Scared! No,” says he. “Let’s whistle, I say.” + +“Well,” says I, “you whistle first.” + +“No,” says he, “you whistle first.” + +“Let _him_ whistle first,” says I. + +“He won’t do it. Ghosts never whistle first,” says he. + +I asked him who said that, and he said ’t was Dorry. + +Then I said, “Let’s whistle together.” + +So we waited till we almost got past, and then whistled “Yankee Doodle.” +And, grandmother, it did,--it whistled it. + +Bubby Short whispered, “Lick him a little.” + +Then I whispered back, “’T won’t do to. If I do, he won’t go any.” + +But in a minute he began to go faster of his own accord. He heard +somebody ahead calling. It was Gapper, coming to see what the matter was +that kept us so late. Now what do you think about it? + +From your affectionate + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. My boots leak. Shall I get them tapped, or get a new pair, or +throw them away, or else keep the legs to make new boots of? + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +Here we have William Henry trying his hand at story-telling. + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Sometimes Dorry writes stories in his letters for his sister, just as he +tells them to her, talking, at home. Now I’ll write one for my sister, +and I’ll call it by a name. I’ll call it + + +THE STORY OF THE GREAT STORM. + +Once there was a little boy named Billy, and Gapper lent him his donkey +to go ride. That’s me, you know. Next day Gapper came and said, “You +boys lost my whip.” Now I remembered having the whip when we crept in +among the bushes,--for we got sight of a woodchuck, and came near +finding his hole. So when school was done at noon, I asked leave to put +some bread and meat in my pocket, instead of eating any dinner, and go +to look for Gapper’s whip. And he said I might. ’T was two miles off. +But I found it. And I dug for a good deal of saxifax-root. And picked +lots of boxberry-plums. + +And I never noticed how the sky looked, till I heard a noise something +like thunder. It was very much like thunder. Almost just like it. I +thought it was thunder. Only it sounded a great ways off. I was walking +along slow, snapping my whip and eating my dinner, for I thought I +wouldn’t hurry for thunder, when something hard dropped down close to +me. Then another dropped,--and then another. And they kept dropping. I +picked one up and found they were hailstones, and they were bigger than +bullets. + +It kept growing dark, and the hailstones came thicker, and hit me in the +face. Then they began to pour right down, and I ran. They beat upon me +just like a driving storm all of sharp stones. The horses and cows cut +across the fields like mad. The horses flung up their heads. I was +almost to that old house and ran for that, and kicked the door through +to get in, for I thought I should be killed with the hail. The shingles +off the roof were flying about; and when I got inside, ’t was awful. I +thought to be sure the roof would be beat in. Such a noise! It sounded +just exactly as if a hundred cartloads of stones were being tipped up on +to the roof. And then the window-glass! It was worse than being out +doors, for the window-glass was flying criss-cross about the room, like +fury, all mixed up with the hail. I crouched down all in a bunch and put +my arms over my head, and so tried to save myself. But then I spied a +closet door a crack open, and I jumped in there. And there I sat all +bent over with my hands up to my ears, and thought, O, what would become +of me if the old house should go? And now the strangest part is coming. +You see ’t was a pretty deep closet--School-bell! I didn’t think ’t was +half time for that to ding. I’ll tell the rest next time. Should you +care if I brought home Dorry to make a visit? He wants to bad. ’T would +be jolly if Bubby Short went too. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Everybody’s been setting glass. Counting the house and the school-house, +and the panes set over the barn door, and four squares in the hen-house, +we had to set four hundred and twenty-three squares. The express-man has +brought loads and loads. All the great boys helped set. We slept one +night with bedquilts and rugs hung up to the windows. The master tried +to shut his blind in the storm, but the hail drove him in, and he +couldn’t even shut down his window again. A rich man has given to the +Two Betseys better windows than they had before. Now I will tell about +my being in that closet. + +When it began to grow stiller, I took my hands down from my ears, and +one hand when it came down touched something soft. Quite soft and warm. +I jumped off from it in a hurry. Then I heard a kind of bleating noise, +and a little faint “ba’a ba’a.” But now comes the very strangest part. +Farther back in the closet I heard somebody move, somebody step. I was +scared, and gave the door a push, to let the light in. Now who do you +think was there? Aunt Phebe must stop reading and let you guess. But +maybe you’re reading yourself. Then stop and guess. ’T wasn’t a ghost. +’T wasn’t a man. ’T wasn’t a woman. ’T was Tom Cush! and Rosy’s lamb! + +Says he, “William Henry!” Says I, “Tom!” Then we walked out into the +room, and O, what a sight! Says I, “I thought ’t was going to be the end +of the old house.” + +Says Tom, “I thought ’t was going to be the end of the world.” + +In the corners the hailstones were heaped up in great banks. You might +have shovelled up barrels full. Most of them were the size of bird’s +eggs. But some were bigger. Then we looked out doors. The ground was all +white, and drifts in every cornering place, and the leaves stripped off +the trees. Then we looked at one another, and he was just as pale as +anything. He leaned against the wall, and I guessed he was crying. To +see such a great boy crying seemed most as bad as the hailstorm. Maybe +he didn’t cry. When he turned his head round again, says he: “Billy, I’m +sick, and what shall I do?” + +“Go home,” says I. + +“No,” says he, “I won’t go home. And if you let ’em know, I’ll--” And +then he picked up Gapper’s whip,--“I’ll flog you.” + +“Flog away,” says I; “maybe I shall, and maybe I sha’ n’t.” + +He dropped the whip down, and says he, “Billy, I sha’ n’t ever touch +you. But they mustn’t know till I’m gone to sea.” + +I asked him when he was going. And he told me all about it. + +When he was sent away from school, he went into town and inquired about +the wharves for a chance to go, and got one, and came back to get some +things he left hid in the old house, and to wait till ’t was time to go. +He sold his watch, and bought a great bag full of hard bread and cheese +and cakes. + +He was mad at Gapper for setting a man to watch, and so he took Rosy’s +lamb. He was going to kill it. And then skin it. But he couldn’t do it. +It licked his hand, and looked up so sorryful, he couldn’t do it. And +when he cut his foot--he cut it chopping something. That’s why he stayed +there so long. And he was the ghost that whistled. He knew the fellows +wouldn’t go in to see what it was that whistled. And he ate up most all +his things, and tied a string to the lamb, and let it out nights to eat +grass, and then pulled it in again. + +I wouldn’t have stayed there so for anything. He went into town three +times, nights, to get victuals to eat. I don’t see what he wants to be +such a kind of a boy for. He says he means to go to sea, and if ever +he’s good he’s going home. I told him about his father and mother, and +he walked while I was talking, and kept his back towards me. I asked him +what ailed him, and he said ’t was partly cutting him, and partly +sleeping cold nights, and partly the crackers and cheese. I gave him the +rest of my meat, and he was glad enough. + +He said he was ashamed to go home. + +Now I have got to the end of another sheet of paper. I wish I hadn’t +begun to tell my sister this story. It takes so long. And I want every +minute of the time to play in. For ’t is getting a little cooler, and a +fellow can stand it to run some. The master says it’s good weather for +studying. Dorry says he never saw any weather yet good enough for +studying. I shall write a very short letter next time, to tell the rest +of it. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I forgot to put this letter in the office. I guess I will not +write any more letters till I go home. I was going to tell more, but I +can do it better talking. I went to see Tom Cush the next day, and he +had gone. Rosy’s got her lamb back again. But her flower-garden was +killed by the hail. Not one leaf left. She found her lamb on the +doorstep, waiting to get in. + + * * * * * + +We have next a letter from Aunt Phebe, a dear, good-hearted woman, who +took almost a mother’s interest in William Henry. Indeed, I have heard +her remark, that she hardly knew any difference between her feelings for +him and for her own children. + +Some of her letters will be found to contain good advice, given in a +very amusing way. + + * * * * * + +_Letter from Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +You rogue, you! I meant to have written before. You’ve frightened us all +to pieces with your ghost that wasn’t a ghost, and your whipping that +wasn’t a whipping, and your measles that you didn’t have. Grandmother +may talk, but she’s losing her memory. You were red as a beet with ’em. +As if I didn’t carry you about all night and go to sleep walking! + +Grandmother says, “Yes, indeed! bring Dorry, and let him stay a week if +he wants to.” Bless her soul! She’ll always keep her welcome warm, so +never mind her memory. And Bubby Short, too. Pray bring Bubby Short. I +want to see his black eyes shine. Don’t Benjie want to come? I’ve got +beds enough, and girls enough to work, and a great batch of poor +mince-pies that I want eaten up. Don’t see how I came to make such a +miss in my pies this baking. Your uncle J. thinks I skinched on plums. +There never was such a man for plums. I do believe if they were put into +his biscuits he’d think he’d got no more than his rights. + +Your uncle J. says: “Tell the boys to come on. I’ve got apples to +gather, and husking to do.” They’d better bring some old clothes to +wear. This is such a tearing place. I’ve put my Tommy into jacket and +trousers. He used to hitch his clothes upon every rail. Such a climber! +I don’t know what that boy’ll be when he grows up. + +I send you a good warm comforter, knit in stripes; and all the family +are knit into it, especially Tommy. The pink stripes are his good-boy +days, and the black ones are his naughty actions. I showed him where I +knit ’em in. That clouded gray and black stripe is for my two great +girls quarrelling together about whose work ’t was to do some little +trifle. I told ’em they should be knit in, big as they are, if they +couldn’t behave and be accommodating. That bright red stripe is for +Hannah Jane’s school report, all perfect. That blue stripe is for your +sister Georgianna when she made a sheet. It matches her eyes as near as +I could get the yarn. My blue dye is weak this fall. Indigo is high. +Your uncle J. says it’s on account of the Rebs feeling so blue. That +gray stripe, dotted with yellow, means a funny crying spell Tommy had at +table. I came home, and there he sat in his high chair, with his two +hands on the arms of it, his mouth wide open, eyes shut, and the tears +streaming down, making the dolefullest noise,--“O-oh, a-ah; o-oh, a-ah.” +Lucy Maria said he’d been going on in that strain almost half an hour, +because we didn’t have mince-meat for supper. That green stripe is for +the day we all took the hay-cart and went to ride in the woods. The +orange-colored one is for the box of oranges your uncle J. fetched home. +“A waste of money,” says I. “Please the children,” says he; “and the +peel will save spice.” Makes me laugh when your uncle J. sets out to +save. My girls and Tommy have got the very best of fathers, only they +don’t realize it. But young folks can’t realize. The pale rose-colored +stripe is for the travelling doctor’s curing your grandmother’s +rheumatics, and promising she never should have another touch of ’em if +she was careful. The dark red stripe is for the red cow’s getting choked +to death with a turnip. She was a prime butter cow. Any man but your +uncle J. would look sober for a month about it. But he says, “O, there’s +butter enough in the world, Phebe. And the calf will soon be a cow on +its own hook.” That’s your uncle J. + +The plain dark purple stripe is for my Matilda’s speaking +disrespectfully to grandmother. She was sorry enough afterwards, but I +told her it should go in. That bright yellow stripe is for the day your +father went to market and got such a great price for his colt. The +bright fringe, mixed colors, is for us all in both houses, when we got +news of your coming home, and felt so glad. There’s a stitch dropped in +one place. That may go for a tear-drop,--a tear of mine, dear, if you +please. Do you think we grown-up women, we jolly, busy women, never shed +tears? O, but we do sometimes, in an out-of-the-way corner, or when the +children are all gone to school, or everybody is in bed. Bitterer tears +they are, Billy, than boys’ tears. One more stripe, that plain white one +in the centre, is for the little Tommy that died. I couldn’t bear to +leave him out, Billy. He had such little loving ways. You don’t remember +him. + +There’s your uncle J.’s whistle. He always whistles when he gets to the +bars, to let me know it’s time to begin to take up dinner. + +From your loving + +AUNT PHEBE. + + * * * * * + +I will insert here two of Dorry Baker’s letters to his sister. When they +were written Dorry and Bubby Short were making William Henry a visit. + +_Dorry to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +Who’s been giving you an inch, that you take so many “l’s”? Or is father +putting an “L” to his house, or some great “LL. D.” been dining there, +or what is the matter, that about every “l” in your letter comes double? +I wouldn’t spell “painful” with two “l’s” if the pain was ever so bad. +But I know. You are thinking about Billy and the good times we are +having. Aunt Phebe says you might have come too, just as well as not; +for her family is so big, three or four more don’t make a mite of +difference. + +We got here last night. Billy’s grandmother’s a brick. She took Billy +right in her arms, and I do believe she cried for being glad, behind her +spectacles. His sister is full as pretty as you. Billy brought her a +round comb. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy’s as fat as butter. He sat and +sucked his thumb and stared, till Billy held out a whistle to him, and +then he walked up and took it, as sober as a judge. + +“And I’ve brought you something, Grandmother,” says Billy. + +He went out and brought in a bandbox tied up. I wondered, coming in the +cars, what he had got tied up in that bandbox. He out with his +jack-knife, and cut the strings, and took out--have you guessed yet? Of +course you haven’t,--took out a new cap like grandma’s. He stuck his +fist in it, and turned it round and round, to let her see it. + +“Now sit down,” says he, “and we’ll try it on.” + +She wouldn’t, but he made her. + +“Come here, Dorry,” says he, “and see which is the front side of this.” + +When her old cap was pulled off, there was her gray hair all soft and +crinkly. He got the cap part way on. + +“You tip it down too much,” says I. + +“We’ll turn it round,” says he. + +“’T is upside down,” said Billy’s father. + +“Now ’t is one-sided,” says Uncle J., “like the colt’s blinders.” + +“’T was never meant for my head,” says Grandmother. + +“Send for Phebe,” says Uncle J. + +[Illustration] + +But “Phebe” was coming. There was a great chattering outside, and the +door opened, and in came Aunt Phebe, laughing, and her three great girls +laughing too, with their red cheeks, and their great braids of hair tied +up in red bow-knots of ribbon. And they all went to kissing Billy. + +And then says Aunt Phebe, “What in the world are you doing to your +grandmother? A regular milliner’s cap, if I breathe! Well done, +Grandmother! Here, let me give it a twist. It’s hind side before. What +do boys know? or men either? What are all these kinds of strings for?” + +“The great ones to hang down, and the little ones to tie up,” says +Billy. + +The girls stood by to pick the bows apart, and fuzz up the ruffles where +they were smashed in; and Billy’s father and Uncle Jacob, they sat and +laughed. + +Grandmother couldn’t help herself, but she kept saying, “Now, Phebe! +now, girls! now, Billy!” + +“And now, grandmother!” says Aunt Phebe. “There! fold your hands +together. Don’t lean back hard, ’t will jam easy. Now see, girls! Isn’t +she a beauty?” And, Maggie, I do believe she’s the prettiest grandmother +there is going. Her face is just as round and smiling! + +“Now sit still, Grandmother,” said Aunt Phebe. And she winked to the +girls, and they whisked two tables up together, spread on the cloth, set +on the dishes; then out into the entry, and brought in great loaves of +plum-cake, and pies and doughnuts, and set out the table,--all done +while you’d be tying your shoe. Then they set a row of lights along the +middle, and we all sat round,--Grandmother at the head, and Aunt +Phebe’s little Tommy in his high chair; and I’ll tell you what, if these +are poor mince-pies, I hope I shall never see any good ones. + +“Why didn’t you have some fried eggs?” said Uncle Jacob. + +“Now did anybody ever hear the like?” said Aunt Phebe. “Fried eggs! when +they’re shedding their feathers, and it takes seventy-six fowls to lay a +dozen, and every egg is worth its weight in currency! Better ask why we +don’t have cranberry sauce!” + +“There!” says Uncle J. “I declare, if I didn’t forget that errand, after +all!” + +“When I told you to keep saying over ‘Cranberries, cranberries,’ all the +way going along!” says Aunt Phebe. + +“They would ’a’ set my teeth on edge before I got to Ne’miah’s corner,” +said Uncle J. “The very thoughts of ’em is enough. Lucy Maria, please to +pass that frosted cake. I declare, I’m sorry I forgot that errand.” + +For all we were so hungry, there was a great deal left, and I was glad +to see it going into Billy’s buttery. Billy says it’s just like his aunt +Phebe to come to supper, and make that an excuse to bring enough to last +a week, to save Grandmother steps. + +I do like to stay where folks are jolly. They keep me a-laughing; and as +for Bubby Short, his little black eyes have settled themselves into a +twinkle, and there they stay. I never had such a good time in my life. + +From your same old brother, + +DORRY. + +P. S. We have got good times enough planned out to last a month. Uncle +J. says we may have his old horse, and Young Gray, and Dobbin, and the +cow too, if we want, to ride horseback on, or tackle up into anything we +can find, from a hay-cart to a wheelbarrow. I shall want to write, but +sha’ n’t. There’ll be no time. When I get home, I’ll talk a week. + +Love to all inquiring friends. + + * * * * * + +Maggie could have formed but little idea of the nature of the offer +mentioned in Dorry’s postscript, because she had never, at that time, +stood on the spot and seen with her own eyes all the “wheel-ed things” +that were to be seen in Uncle Jacob’s back-yard. + +How gladly would I, if space permitted, go into a minute description of +that roomy enclosure, with its farming implements, garden tools, cattle, +pump, fowls, watering-trough, grindstone, woodpile, haystack, etc., and +carryalls, carts, wagons, wheelbarrows, roller-carts, and tip-carts, +some in good repair, others very far out of it! “Entertainment for man +and beast” might truly have been written over the entrance! + +Mother Delight (an old nurse-woman) once remarked of Uncle Jacob, that +he was a very _buying man_. This was a true remark, and yet he never +bought without a reason. For instance, if Quorm (a Corry Pond Indian) +brought bushel-baskets along to sell, Uncle Jacob took one, not because +he had not bushel-baskets enough, but to encourage Quorm. And if Old +Pete Brale wanted to let Uncle Jacob have an infirm, rickety wagon, and +take his pay in potatoes, Uncle Jacob traded, that Pete Brale might be +kept from starvation. And so of other things. + +It may be imagined, therefore, that as time went on all manner of +vehicles were there gathered together. Some of these were in good +running order, while others had been bought partly with a view to their +being repaired and sold at a profit. The expression on Aunt Phebe’s face +when Uncle Jacob brought home an addition to his interesting collection +was very striking. I remember particularly observing this at the coming +into harbor of a rattling, shackly, green-bottomed carryall, which had a +door at the back, and seats running lengthwise. It formerly belonged to +some person who, having then a large family of small children to get to +meeting, contrived a conveyance which would take in and discharge again +the greatest number with the least trouble. + +In this odd vehicle, which had been run under an overhanging apple-tree, +I often sat through the summer afternoon, now reading my book, now +watching the animal life about me, gaining useful knowledge from both. +Sometimes, when feeling like a boy again,--as I often did and do +feel,--I would amuse myself with playing _go to ride_ in a comical old +chaise. It was set high, and pitched forward, the lining was ragged, the +back “light” gone, the stuffing running out of the cushions; yet there I +liked to sit, and “ride,” and joggle up and down, as in the happy days +of boyhood. But not, as in those happy days, “hard as I could,” for +reasons easy to guess. + +I trust no one will imagine that spacious yard to have been merely a +sort of safe anchorage, where all manner of disabled craft might run in +for shelter! Lest any words of mine should imply this, or seem to cast +blame on Uncle Jacob, let me hasten to say that he really required a +variety of “wheel-ed things” to carry on his business. + +Neither of the Mr. Carvers got their living wholly, or even chiefly, by +farming. They drew wood from lots owned by themselves, or by others, and +used their teams in any way, according as employment was offered them. +Thus heavy carts were wanted for heavy work, and light carts for light +work, besides carryalls for dry and for rainy weather, and riding +wagons, because they were handy. + +For all the Summer Sweeting folks were hard workers, they knew how to +get up a good time, and enjoyed it too, as we shall see by the account +of one which Dorry gives in the following letter:-- + + * * * * * + +_Dorry to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +O, we’ve hurrahed and hurrahed and hurrahed ourselves hoarse! Such a +bully time! You’d better believe the old horses went some! And that +hay-cart went rattle and bump, rattle and thump,--seemed as if we should +jolt to pieces! But I’ve counted myself all over, and believe I’m all +here! Bubby Short’s throat is so sore that all he can do is to lie flat +on the floor and wink his eyes. You see we cheered at every house, and +they came running to their windows, and some cheered back again, and +some waved and some laughed, and all of them stared. But part of the way +was through the woods. + +This morning Billy and Bubby Short and I went over to Aunt Phebe’s of an +errand, to borrow a cup of dough. I wish mother could see how her stove +shines! And while we were sitting down there, having some fun with Aunt +Phebe’s little Tommy, Uncle Jacob came in and said, “Mother, let’s go +somewhere.” + +She said, “Thank you! thank you! we shall be very happy to accept your +invitation. Girls, your father has given us an invitation! Boys, he +means you too!” + +“But you can’t go,--can you?” Uncle Jacob cried out, and made believe he +didn’t know what to make of it. O, he’s such a droll man! “I thought +you couldn’t leave the ironing,” says he. + +“O yes, we can!” Hannah Jane said; and “O yes, we can!” they all cried +out. + +Aunt Phebe said it would be entirely convenient, and told her girls to +shake out the sprinkled clothes to dry. + +“O, now,” said Uncle Jacob, “who’d have thought of your saying ‘yes.’ I +expected you couldn’t leave.” + +Then they kept on talking and laughing. O, they are all so funny here! +Uncle Jacob tried to get off without going; but at last he said, “Well, +boys, we must catch Old Major.” + +That’s the old gray horse, you know. And we were long enough about it. +For, just as we got him into a corner, he’d up heels, and away he’d go. +And once he slapped his tail right in my face. But after a while we got +him into the barn. + +Then pretty soon Uncle Jacob put on a long face, and looked very sober, +and put his head in at the back kitchen door, and said he guessed we +should have to give up going, after all, for the mate to Old Major had +got to be shod, and the blacksmith had gone away. + +“Harness in the colt, then,” Aunt Phebe said. “No matter about their +matching, if we only get there!” + +That colt is about twenty years old. He’s black, and short, and takes +little stubby steps; and he’s got a shaggy mane, that goes flop, flop, +flop every step he takes. But Old Major is bony, and has a long neck, +like the nose of a tunnel. Such a span as they made! What would my +mother say to see that span! + +They were harnessed in to the hay-cart. A hay-cart is a long cart that +has stakes stuck in all round it. We put boards across for benches. Aunt +Phebe brought out a whole armful of quite small flags, that they had +Independent Day, and we tied one to the end of every stake. + +Such a jolly time as we did have getting aboard! First all the baskets +and pails full of cake and pies were stowed away under the benches, and +jugs of water, and bottles of milk, and a hatchet, and some boiled eggs, +and apples and pears. Then uncle called out, “Come! where is everybody? +Tumble in! tumble in! Where’s little Tommy?” + +Then we began to look about and to call “Tommy!” “Tommy!” “Tommy!” At +last Bubby Short said, “There he is, up there!” We all looked up, and +saw Tommy’s face part way through a broken square of glass--I mean where +the glass was broken out. He said he couldn’t “tum down, betause the +_roosted_ was on his feets.” You see, he’d got his feet tangled up in +Lucy Maria’s worsteds. + +“O dear!” Lucy Maria said; “all that shaded pink!” + +When they brought him down, Uncle Jacob looked very sober, and said, +“Why, Tommy! Did you get into all that shaded pink?” + +“Didn’t get in _all_ of it,” said Tommy. Then he told us he was taking +down the “gimmerlut to blower a hole with.” Next he began to cry for his +new hat; and when he got his new hat, he began to cry for a posy to be +stuck in it. That little fellow never will go anywhere without a flower +stuck in his hat. Aunt Phebe says his grandmother began that notion +when her damask rosebush was in bloom. + +After we were all aboard, Uncle Jacob brought out the teakettle, and +slung it on behind with a rope. He said maybe mother would want a cup of +tea. Then they laughed at him, for he is the tea-drinker himself. Next +he brought out a long pan. + +“Now that’s my cookie-pan!” Aunt Phebe said. “You don’t cook clams in my +cookie-pan!” + +He made believe he was terribly afraid of Aunt Phebe, and trotted back +with it just like a little boy, and then came bringing out an old +sheet-iron fireboard. + +“Is this anybody’s cookie-pan?” said he, then stowed it away in the +bottom of the cart. Bubby Short wanted to know what that was for. + +“That’s for the clams,” Uncle Jacob said. + +But we couldn’t tell whether he meant so. We never can tell whether +Uncle Jacob is funning or not. I haven’t told you yet where we were +bound. We were bound to the shore. That’s about six miles off. The last +thing that Uncle Jacob brought out was a stick that had strips of paper +tied to the end of it. + +“That’s my flyflapper!” Aunt Phebe said. “What are you going to do with +my flyflapper?” + +He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy’s face. Tommy is a +tip-top little chap; but he’s apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to +drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and +then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he +fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the +snarls off his face, and say, “There they go! Pick ’em up! pick ’em +up!” And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the +back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and +they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But +first he stood on his head, for ’t was quite a sandy place. I drove part +of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn’t hurrah any going. Some men +that we met would laugh and call out, “What’ll you take for your span?” +And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, “How are +_you_, teakettle?” I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that +ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw +Billy’s father coming, bringing Billy’s grandmother in a horse and +chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn’t +come. + +When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for +there wasn’t a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to +us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I +carried the bucket. Isn’t it funny that clams live in the mud? How do +you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle +Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the +mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon +got the bucket full. + +Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up +sticks and bits of boards. “Bring them where you see a smoke rising,” +says he. + +O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet! +Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in a good way, and put his iron +fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams +on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of +anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard! + +And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the +teakettle, and made a fire under it,--to make a cup of tea for mother, +he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the +teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side +where the wind wouldn’t blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy’s +grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions, +and shawls all over her, and Billy’s father read things out of the +newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn’t +work. + +It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter +the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed +round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to +have shingles. You’d better believe those clams tasted good! Then all +the other things were passed round. O, I don’t believe any other woman +can make things as good as Aunt Phebe’s! Georgianna had a frosted +plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle +Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked +Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,--a great deal +better than Aunt Phebe’s girls. Then Georgianna would say, “O, I know +you! you want my frosted cake!” Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips +together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps +every body a-laughing, even Billy’s grandmother. He was just as clever +to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,--Aunt Phebe +don’t carry her good dishes, they get broken so,--and shocked out the +clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you’ll get +a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. ’T was fun +to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little +pools of water. And I found lots of _blanc-mange_ moss. We boys ran ever +so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn’t very cold. + +When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart +pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand, +and blew it off on the water. Billy said, “Now the fishes can have a +pocket-handkerchief.” And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been +in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got ’em sopping wet. +Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the +shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave +us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle +Jacob hadn’t any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his +arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the +boat clapped. + +O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and +rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped +squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live +fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I +suppose you don’t believe that! But it’s true, for I’ve seen them. In +the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don’t go to work and +build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees, +and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to +go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny, +something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And +every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a +real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my +squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got +quite close up,--near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to +run! + +Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a +house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to +their windows to look, for there isn’t much travelling on that road. O, +I’m so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I’m sorry we’ve got home, I +wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over +at Aunt Phebe’s. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us +to come over. Bubby Short’s jumped up. He says his throat feels better +now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, +sis. This letter is from your + +BROTHER DORRY. + + + * * * * * + +I remember what they were clapping about. It happened that I came out +from the city that day. The weather was so fine, I felt as if I must +take one more look at the country, before winter came and spoiled every +bright leaf and flower. I think the flowers and leaves seem very +precious in the fall, when we know frost is waiting to kill them. + +It was quite a disappointment to find the people all gone, and I was +glad enough when at last the old hay-cart came rattling down the lane. +Such a jolly set as they were! I jumped them out at the back of the +cart. + +That little Tommy was always such a funny chap. Just like his father for +all the world. When the girls took their things off, he got himself into +an old sack, and then tied on one of his mother’s checked aprons, and +began to parade round. When Lucy Maria saw him she took him up stairs +and put more things on him, and dressed him up for Mother Goose. I don’t +know when I’ve seen anything so droll. They put skirts on him, till they +made him look like a little fat old woman. He had a black silk +handkerchief pinned over his shoulders, and a ruffle round his neck, and +an old-fashioned, high-crowned nightcap on. Then spectacles. They put a +peaked piece of dough on the end of his nose, to make it look like a +hooked nose, and then set him down in the arm-chair. He kept sober as a +judge. Bubby Short laughed till he tumbled down and rolled himself +across the floor. Lucy Maria sent us out of the room to see something in +the yard, and when we came back, there was a little old man with his hat +on, and a cane, sitting opposite Mother Goose. He was made of a +stuffed-out overcoat, trousers with sticks of wood in them, and boots. +“That is Father Goose,” Lucy Maria said. Then Bubby Short had to tumble +down again; and this time he rolled way through the entry, out on the +doorstep! + +Then came such a pleasant evening! Aunt Phebe said ’t was a pity for +Grandmother to go to getting supper, they might as well all come over. +Where anybody had to boil the teakettle and set the table, half a dozen +more or less didn’t matter much. + +So we all ate supper together, and it seemed to me I never did get into +such a jolly set! Uncle Jacob and Aunt Phebe were so funny that we could +hardly eat. And in the evening--But ’t is no use. If I begin to tell, +and tell all I want to, there won’t be any room left for the letters. + + +Now comes quite a gap in the correspondence. There must have been many +letters written about this time, which were, unfortunately not +preserved. The next in order I find to be a short epistle from Bubby +Short, written, it would seem, soon after the winter holidays. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from Bubby Short._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +My mother is all the one that I ever wrote a letter to before. So excuse +poor writing, and this pen isn’t a very good pen to write with I bet. I +am very sorry that you can’t come back quite yet. I hope that it won’t +be a fever that you are going to have. Does your grandma think that ’t +is going to be a fever? Do you take bitter medicine? I never had a +fever. I take little pills every time I have anything. My mother likes +little pills best now. But she used to make me take bitter stuff. Once +she put it in my mouth and I wouldn’t swallow it down. Then she pinched +my nose together and it made me swallow it down. Once I ate up all the +little pills out of the bottle, and she was very scared about it. It +wasn’t very full. But the doctor said that it wouldn’t hurt me any if I +did eat them. How many presents did you have? I had five. Dorry he says +he hopes that it won’t be a slow fever that you are going to have if you +do have any fever, for he wants you to hurry and come back. Some new +fellows have come. One is a tip-top one. And one good “pitcher.” I hope +you will come back very soon, ’cause I like you very much. + +Do you know who ’t is writing? I am that one all you fellers call + +BUBBY SHORT. + + * * * * * + +As may be gathered from the foregoing letter, William Henry did not go +back to school with the rest. He was taken ill just at the close of +vacation, and remained at home until spring. Grandmother said it was +such a comfort that it didn’t happen away. And it seemed to me that this +thought really made her enjoy his being sick at home. + +Indeed, the people at Summer Sweeting place seemed ready to get +enjoyment from everything, even from gruel, which is usually considered +flat. I passed a day there at a time when William Henry was subsisting +on this very simple but wholesome food. Aunt Phebe and Uncle Jacob came +in to take tea at grandmother’s. The old lady was bringing out her nice +things to set on the table, when Aunt Phebe said suddenly, I suppose +seeing a hungry look in Billy’s eyes. She said,-- + +“Now, Grandmother, I wouldn’t bring those out. Let’s have a gruel +supper, and all fare alike! We’ll make it in different ways,--milk +porridge, oatmeal, corn-starch,--and I think ’t will be a pleasant +change.” + +“Gruel is very nourishing, well made,” said Grandmother; “but what will +Mr. Fry say?” + +“Mr. Fry will say,” I answered, “that milk porridge, with Boston +crackers, is a dish fit for a king.” + +“I’m afraid Jacob won’t think he’s been to supper,” said Grandmother. + +“O yes,” said Uncle Jacob, “I’ll think I have at any rate. But I like +mine the way the man in the moon did his, or part of the way.” + +“Yes,” said Aunt Phebe, “I understand! The last part--the ‘plum’ part!” + +“O, don’t all eat gruel for me,” said Billy. “Course I sha’ n’t be a +baby, and cry for things!” + +But Aunt Phebe seemed resolved to develop the gruel idea to its utmost. +She made all kinds,--Indian meal, oatmeal, corn-starch, flour, mixed +meals, wheat; made it sweetened, and spiced with plums, and plain. One +kind, that she called “thickened milk,” was delicious. “Course” we had +one cup of tea, and bread and butter, and I can truly say that I have +eaten many a worse supper than a “gruel supper.” + +Here is a letter from William Henry to Dorry, written when he began to +get well:-- + + * * * * * + +_William Henry’s Letter to Dorry._ + +DEAR DORRY,-- + +I’m just as hungry as anything, now, about all the time. My grandmother +says she’s so glad to see me eat again; and so am I glad to eat myself. +Things taste better than they did before. Maybe I shall come back to +school again pretty soon, my father says; but my grandmother guesses not +very, because she thinks I should have a relapse if I did. A relapse is +to get sick when you’re getting well; and, if I should get sick again, O +what should I do! for I want to go out-doors. If they’d only let me go +out, I’d saw wood all day, or anything. There isn’t much fun in being +sick, I tell you, Dorry; but getting well, O, that’s the thing! I tell +you getting well’s jolly! I have very good things sent to me about every +day, and when I want to make molasses candy my grandmother says yes +every time, if she isn’t frying anything in the spider herself; and then +I wait and whistle to my sister’s canary-bird, or else look out the +window. But she tells me to stand a yard back, because she says cold +comes in the window-cracks: and my uncle Jacob he took the yardstick one +day, and measured a yard, and put a chalk mark there, where my toes +must come to, he said. If I hold the yardstick a foot and a half up from +the floor, my sister’s kitty can jump over it tip-top. My sister has +made a Red-Riding-Hood cloak for her kitty, and a muff to put her fore +paws in, and takes her out. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Yesterday Uncle Jacob came into the house and said he had brought a +carriage to carry me over to Aunt Phebe’s; and when I looked out it +wasn’t anything but a wheelbarrow. My grandmother said I must wrap up, +for ’t was the first time; so she put two overcoats on me, and my +father’s long stockings over my shoes and stockings, and a good many +comforters, and then a great shawl over my head so I needn’t breathe the +air; and ’t was about as bad as to stay in. Uncle Jacob asked her if +there was a Billy in that bundle, when he saw it. “Hallo, in there!” +says he. “Hallo, out there!” says I. Then he took me up in his arms, and +carried me out, and doubled me up, and put me down in the wheelbarrow, +and threw the buffalo over me; but one leg got undoubled, and fell out, +so I had to drag my foot most all the way. Aunt Phebe undid me, and set +me close to the fire; and Lucy Maria and the rest of them brought me +story-books and picture-papers; and Tommy, he kept round me all the +time, making me whittle him out little boats out of a shingle, and we +had some fun sailing ’em in a milk-pan. Aunt Phebe had chicken broth for +dinner, and I had a very good appetite. She let me look into all her +closets and boxes, and let me open all her drawers. But I had to have a +little white blanket pinned on when I went round, because she was afraid +her room wasn’t kept so warm as my grandmother’s. Soon as Uncle Jacob +came in and saw that little white blanket he began to laugh. “So Aunt +Phebe has got out the _signal of distress_,” says he. He calls that +blanket the “signal of distress,” because when any of them don’t feel +well, or have the toothache or anything, she puts it on them. She says +he shall have to wear it some time, and I guess he’ll look funny, he’s +so tall, with it on. The fellers played base-ball close to Aunt Phebe’s +garden. I tell you I shall be glad enough to get out-doors. I tell you +it isn’t much fun to look out the window and see ’em play ball. But +Uncle Jacob says if the ball hit me ’t would knock me over now. Aunt +Phebe was just as clever, and let me whittle right on the floor, and +didn’t care a mite. And we made corn-balls. But the best fun was finding +things, when I was rummaging. I found some pictures in an old trunk that +she said I might have, and I want you to give them to Bubby Short to put +in the Panorama he said he was going to make. He said the price to see +it would be two cents. They are true ones, for they are about Aunt +Phebe’s little Tommy. One day, when he was a good deal smaller feller +than he is now, he went out when it had done raining one day, and the +wind blew hard, and he found an old umbrella, and did just what is in +the pictures. The school-teacher that boarded there, O, she could draw +cows and pigs and anything; and she drew these pictures, and wrote about +them underneath. + +I wish you would write me a letter, and tell Benjie to and Bubby Short. + +From your affectionate friend, + + WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. What are you fellers playing now? + + * * * * * + +Thinking the school-teacher’s pictures might please other little Tommys, +I have taken some pains to procure them for insertion here. Little +“fellers” usually are fond of carrying umbrellas,--large size preferred. +Nothing suited Tommy better than marching off to school of a rainy day +with one up full spread, provided he could hold it. His cousin Myra once +took an old umbrella and cut it down into a small one, by chopping off +the ends of the sticks, supposing he would be delighted with it. But no, +he wanted a “_man’s one_.” + + +TOMMY ON HIS TRAVELS. + +Tommy sets forth upon his travels around the house, taking with him his +whip. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +At the first corner he picks up an umbrella. A larger boy opens the +umbrella, and shows him the way to hold it. Being an old umbrella, it +shuts down again. But Tommy still keeps on in his way. + +[Illustration] + +At the second corner a gust of wind takes down the umbrella, and blows +his capes over his head. He pushes on, however, whip in hand, dragging +the umbrella behind him. + +[Illustration] + +On turning the third corner a hen runs between his legs, and throws him +down in the mud. + +He is taken inside, stripped and washed, and left sitting upon the floor +in his knit shirt, waiting for clean clothes. He can reach the handle of +the molasses-jug. He does reach the handle, and tips over the jug. His +mother finds him eating molasses off the floor with his forefinger. +Tommy looks up with a sweet smile. + +[Illustration] + +Here we have William Henry back at school again. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +[Illustration] + +I’ve been here three days now. I came safe all the way, but that glass +vial you put that medicine into, down in the corner of the trunk, broke, +and some white stockings down there, they soaked it all up; but I sha’ +n’t have to take it now, and no matter, I guess, for I feel well, all +but my legs feeling weak so I can’t run hardly any. When I got here, the +boys were playing ball; but they all ran to shake hands, and slapped my +shoulders so they almost slapped me down, and hollered out, “How are +you, Billy?” “How fares ye?” “Welcome back!” “Got well?” “Good for you, +Billy!” Gus Beals--he’s the great tall one we call “Mr. Augustus”--he +called out, “How are you, red-top?” And then Dorry called out to him, +“How are you, hay-pole?” Dorry and Bubby Short want me to tell you to +thank Aunt Phebe for their doughnuts, and you, too, for that molasses +candy. The candy got soft, and the paper jammed itself all into the +candy, but Bubby Short says he loves paper when it has molasses candy +all over it. I gave some of the things to Benjie. Something hurt me all +the way coming, in the toe of my boot; and when I got here I looked, and +’t was a five-cent piece right in the toe! I know who ’t was! ’T was +Uncle Jacob when he made believe look to see if that boot-top wasn’t +made of mighty poor leather. I went to spend it yesterday, down to the +Two Betseys’ shop. Lame Betsey called me a poor little dear, and was +just going to kiss me, but I twisted my face round. I’m too big for all +that now, I guess. She looked for something to give me, and was just +going to give me a stick of candy; but the other Betsey said ’t was no +use to give little boys candy, for they’d only swallow it right down, so +she gave me a row of pins, for she said pins were proper handy things +when your buttons ripped off. Just when I was coming back from the Two +Betseys’ shop I met Gapper Skyblue. He goes about selling cakes now. A +good many boys were round him, in a hurry to buy first, and all you +could hear was, “Here, Gapper!” + +[Illustration] + +“This way, Gapper!” “You know me, Gapper!” “Me, me, me!” One boy--he’s a +new boy--spoke up loud and said, “Mr. Skyblue, please attend to me, if +you please, for I have five pennies to spend!” He came from Jersey. The +fellers call him “Old Wonder Boy,” because he brags and tells such big +stories. But now, just as soon as he begins to tell, Dorry begins too, +and always tells the biggest,--makes them up, you know. O, I tell you, +Dorry gives it to him good! You’d die a laughing to hear Dorry, and so +do all the fellers. W. B.,--that’s what we call Old Wonder Boy +sometimes,--W stands for Wonder, and B stands for Boy,--he says cents +are not cents; says they are pennies, for the Jersey folks call them +pennies, and he guesses they know. He says he gets his double handful of +pennies to spend every day down in Jersey. But Bubby Short says he knows +that’s a whopper, for he knows there wouldn’t anybody’s mother give them +their double handful of pennies to spend every day, nor cents either, +nor their father either. And then Dorry told Old Wonder Boy that he +supposed it took his double handful of pennies to buy a roll of lozenges +down in Jersey. Then W. B. said that our lozenges were all flour and +water, but down in Jersey they were clear sugar, and just as plenty as +huckleberries. Dorry said he didn’t believe any huckleberries grew out +there, or if they did, they’d be nothing but red ones, for the ground +was red out in Jersey. But W. B. said no matter if the ground was red, +the huckleberries were just as black as Yankee huckleberries, and +blacker too, and three times bigger, and ten times thicker. Said he +picked twenty quarts one day. + +Dorry said, “Poh, that wasn’t much of a pick!” Says he, “Now I’ll tell +you a huckleberry story that’s worth something.” Then all the boys began +to hit elbows, for they knew Dorry would make up some funny thing. Says +he: “I went a huckleberrying once to Wakonok Swamp, and I carried a +fourteen-quart tin pail, and a great covered basket, besides a good many +quart and pint things. You’d better believe they hung thick in that +swamp! I found a thick spot, and I slung my fourteen-quart tin pail +round my waist, and picked with both hands, and ate off the bushes with +my mouth all the while. I got all my things full without stirring two +yards from the spot, and then I didn’t know what to do. But I’ll tell +you what I did. I took off my jacket, and cut my fishing-line, and tied +up the bottom ends of my jacket sleeves and picked them both full. And +then I didn’t know what to do next. But I’ll tell you what I did. I took +off my overalls, and tied up the bottoms of their legs, and picked them +so full you wouldn’t know but there was a boy standing up in ’em!” Then +the boys all clapped. + +“Well,” Old Wonder Boy said, “how did you get them home?” + +“O, got them home easy enough,” Dorry said. “First I put the overalls +over my shoulders, like a boy going pussy-back. I slung all the quart +and pint things round my waist, and hung the covered basket on one arm, +and took the fourteen-quart tin pail in that same hand. Then I tied my +jacket to the end of my fishing-pole, and held it up straight in my +other hand like--like a flag in a dead calm!” + +O, you ought to ’ve seen the boys,--how they winked at one another and +puffed out their cheeks; and some of ’em rolled over and over down hill +to keep from laughing! Bubby Short got behind the fence, and put his +face between two bars, and called out, “S--e--double l!” But Dorry says +they don’t know what a “s--e--double l” is down in Jersey. But I don’t +believe that W. B. believes Dorry’s stories; for I looked him in the +face, and he had a mighty sly look when he asked Dorry how it was he got +his huckleberries home. + +To-day they got a talking about potatoes. Old Wonder Boy said that down +in Jersey they grow so big you have to pry ’em up out of the hill, and +it don’t take much more than two to make a peck. Dorry told him that +down in Maine you could stand on top the potato-hills and look all round +the country, they were so high; and he asked W. B. how they planted ’em +in Jersey, with their eyes up or down? He said he didn’t know which way +they did turn their eyes. Then Dorry told him the Yankees always planted +potatoes eyes up, so they could see which way to grow. Said he planted a +hill of potatoes in his father’s garden, last summer, with their eyes +all down, and waited and waited, but they didn’t come up. And when he +had waited a spell longer, he raked off the top of that hill of +potatoes, and all he saw was some roots sticking up. And he began to dig +down. And he kept digging. Followed their stems. But he never got to the +potato-tops; and says he, “I never did get to those potato-tops!” O, you +ought to ’ve heard the boys! + +Old Wonder Boy wanted to know where Dorry thought they’d gone to. Dorry +thought to himself a minute, and looked just as sober, and then says he, +just like a school-teacher, “The earth, in the middle, is afire. I think +when they got deep enough to feel the warm, they guessed ’t was the sun, +and so kept heading that way.” + +Is the world afire in the middle? Dorry told me that part of his story +was really true. How Uncle Jacob would laugh to sit down and hear Dorry +and Old Wonder Boy tell about whales. W. B. calls ’em wales. His uncle +is a ship-captain, he says, and once he saw a wale, and the wale was +making for his ship, and it chased ’em. And, no matter how they steered, +that wale would chase. And by and by, in a calm day, he got under the +vessel and boosted her up out of water, when all the crew gave a +yell,--such a horrid yell that the wale let ’em down so sudden that the +waves splashed up to the tops of the masts, and they thought they were +all drowned. + +“O, poh!” Dorry cried out. “My uncle was a regular whaler, and went a +whaling for his living. And once he was cruising about the +whaling-grounds and ’t was in a place where the days were so short that +the nights lasted almost all day. And they got chased by a whale. And he +kept chasing them. Night and day. And there came up a gale of wind that +lasted three days and nights; and the ship went like lightning, night +and day, the whale after them. And, when the wind went down, the whale +was so tuckered that he couldn’t swim a stroke. So he floated. Then the +cap’n sang out to ’em to lower a boat. And they did. And the cap’n got +in and took a couple of his men to row him. The whale was rather longer +than a liberty-pole. About as long as a liberty-pole and a half. He was +asleep, and they steered for the tail end. A whale’s head is about as +big as the Two Betseys’ shop, and ’t is filled with clear oil, without +any trying out. The cap’n landed on the whale’s tail, and went along up +on tiptoe, and the men rowed the boat alongside, and kept even with him; +and, when he got towards her ears, he took off his shoes, and threw ’em +to the men to catch. After a while he got to the tip-top of her head. +Now I’ll tell you what he had in his hand. He had a great junk of cable +as big round as the trunk of a tree, and not quite a yard long. In one +end of it there was a point of a harpoon stuck in, and the other end of +it was lighted. He told the men to stand ready. Then he took hold of the +cable with both hands, and with one mighty blow he stuck that pointed +end deep in the whale’s head, and then gave one jump into the boat, and +he cried out to the men, ‘Row! row for your lives! To the tail end! If +you want to live, row!’ And before that whale could turn round they were +safe aboard the ship! But now I’ll tell you the best part of the whole +story. They didn’t have any more long dark nights after that. They kept +throwing over bait to keep her chasing, and the great lamp blazed, and +as fast as the oil got hot it tried out more blubber, and that whale +burned as long as there was a bit of the inside of him left. Flared up, +and lighted up the sea, and drew the fishes, and they drew more whales; +and they got deep loaded, and might have loaded twenty more ships. And +when they left they took a couple in tow,--of whales,--and knocked out +their teeth for ivory, and then sold their carcasses to an empty +whaler.” + +Dorry says some parts of this story are true. But he didn’t say which +parts. Said I must look in the whale-book and find out. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I wish you would please to send me a silver three-cent piece or +five-cent. Two squaws have got a tent a little ways off, and the boys +are going to have their fortunes taken. But you have to cross the +squaws’ hands with silver. + +W. H. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +_Georgianna’s Letter to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER BILLY,-- + +O Billy, my pretty, darling little bird is dead! My kitty did it, and O, +I don’t know what I shall do, for I love my kitty if she did kill my +birdie; but I don’t forget about it, and I keep thinking of my birdie +every time my kitty comes in the room. I was putting some seeds in the +glass, and my birdie looked so cunning; and I held a lump of white +sugar in my lips, and let him peck it. And while I was thinking what a +dear little bird he was, I forgot he could fly out; but he could, for +the door was open, and he flew to the window. I didn’t think anything +about kitty. It flew up to that bracket you made, and then it went away +up in the corner just as high as it could, on a wooden peg that was +there. I didn’t know what made it flutter its wings and tremble so, but +grandmother pointed her finger down to the corner, on the floor, and +there was my kitty stretching out and looking up at my bird. And that +was what made poor birdie tremble so. And it dropped right down. Before +we could run across to catch kitty, he dropped right down into her +mouth. I never thought she could get him. I didn’t know what made +grandmother hurry. I didn’t know that kitties could charm birds, but +they do. She didn’t have him a minute in her teeth, and I thought it +couldn’t be dead. But, O Billy, my dear birdie never breathed again! I +warmed him in my hands, and tried to make him stir his wings, but he +never breathed again. Now the tears are coming again. I thought I wasn’t +going to cry any more. But they come themselves; when I don’t know it, +they come; and O, it was such a good birdie! When I came home from +school I used to run to the cage, and he would sing to meet me. And I +put chickweed over his cage. + +Grandmother has put away that empty cage now. She’s sorry, too. Did you +think a grandmother would be sorry about a little bird as that? But +she’d rather give a good deal. When she put the plates on the table, and +rattled spoons, he used to sing louder and louder. And in the morning +he used to wake me up, singing away so loud! Now, when I first wake up, +I listen. But O, it is so still now! Then in a minute I remember all +about it. Sometimes kitty jumps up on the bed, and puts her nose close +down, and purrs. But I say, “No, kitty. Get down. You killed little +birdie. I don’t want to see you.” But she don’t know what I mean. She +rubs her head on my face, and purrs loud, and wants me to stroke her +back, and don’t seem as if she had been bad. She used to be such a dear +little kitty. And so she is. She’s pretty as a pigeon. Aunt Phebe says +she never saw such a pretty little gray and white kitty as she is. I was +going to have her drowned. But then I should cry for kitty too. Then I +should think how she looked all drowned, down at the bottom, just the +same way I do now how my birdie looked when it couldn’t stir its little +wings, and its eyes couldn’t move. My father says that kitty didn’t know +any better. I hope so. I took off that pretty chain she had round her +neck. But grandmother thinks I had better put it on again. Aunt Phebe’s +little Tommy says, “Don’t kye, Dordie, I’ll _bung_ dat tat. I’ll take a +tick and _bung_ dat tat!” He calls me Dordie, I guess I rather have +kitty alive than let her be drowned, don’t you? Grandmother wants you +not to catch cold and be sick. + +From your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANNA. + +P. S. Grandmother showed me how to write this letter. + + * * * * * + +A caged bird is never a very interesting object to me. But this little +canary of Georgie’s was really a beautiful creature, and very +intelligent. They used to think that he listened for her step at noon +and night; for no sooner was it heard in the entry than he peeped out +with his little bright eyes, and tuned up, and sang away, as if to say, +“Glad! glad! glad you’ve come! glad you’ve come!” + +Then she would go to the cage and talk to him, and let him take sugar +from her mouth, and would hang fresh chickweed about its cage. Mornings +she used to sing, from her bed, and the bird would answer. Indeed, he +really seemed quite a companion for her. + +At the time the accident happened I had been staying for a few weeks at +the hotel, a mile or two off, and called at the farm that very day. Lucy +Maria told me, as I stopped at their door, what the kitten had done, and +how Georgianna had cried and mourned and could not be comforted. + +I found her sitting on the doorstep. She had placed the bird in a small +round basket, lined with cotton-wool, and was bending over, and stroking +it. I had always noticed the bird a great deal, used to play with it, +and whistle to make it sing louder and louder. The sight of me brought +all this back to her mind, and she burst into tears again, sobbing out, +“O, he never--will sing--any more! Dear little birdie! He had to fall +down! He couldn’t--help it!” + +I talked with her awhile, in a cheerful way, and when she had become +quite calm I held out my hand and said, “Come, Georgie, don’t you want +to go with me and find a pretty place where we can put birdie away, +under the soft grass? And we will plant a flower there.” + +The idea of the soft grass and the flower seemed to please her. She took +my hand, and we went to look about. + +We thought the garden not a very good place, because it was dug up every +year, and the field would be mowed and trampled upon. But just over the +fence, back of the garden, we came upon some uneven ground, where the +old summer-sweeting trees grew. In one place there was a sudden pitch +downwards, into a little hollow, which grass and plantain leaves made +almost forever green. For here was what they called the Boiling Spring. +The water bubbled out of the ground on the slope of the bank, and in +former times, before the well was dug, had been used in the family. +Several trees grew about there,--wild cherry, damson, and poplar,--and a +profusion of yellow flowers, wild ones. Some of these grandmother called +“Ladies’ Slipper”; the others, “Sullendine.” The spring had once been +stoned up and boxed over. But the boards were now rotting away, the +stones falling in, and our little hollow had quite a deserted look. The +water trickled out and ran away around the curve of the bank. + +Grandmother came with us, and Georgie’s teacher, and Matilda and Tommy. +We hollowed out a little place under the wild-cherry tree, wrapped the +birdie in cotton-wool, lay him in, and covered him over with the green +sod. I then went down by the stone wall, where sweetbriers were growing, +dug up a very pretty little one, and set it out close by, so that it +might lean against the cherry-tree. Tommy kept very sober, and scarcely +spoke a word, till it was all over. He then said to me, in a very +earnest tone, “Mr. Fwy, now will another birdie grow up there?” I +suppose he was thinking of his father’s planting corn and more corn +growing. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister._ + +MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER,-- + +I’m sorry your little birdie’s dead! He was a nice singing birdie! But I +wouldn’t cry. Maybe you’ll have another one some time, if you’re a good +little girl. Maybe father’ll go to Boston and buy you one, or maybe +Cousin Joe will send one home to you, in a vessel, or maybe I’ll catch +one, or maybe a man will come along with birds to sell, or maybe Aunt +Phebe’s bird will lay an egg and hatch one out. I wouldn’t feel bad +about it. It isn’t any use to feel bad about it. Maybe, if he hadn’t +been killed, he’d ’a’ died. Dorry says, “Tell her, ‘Don’t you cry,’ and +I’ll give her something, catch her a rabbit or a squirrel!” Says he’ll +tease his sister for her white mice. Says he’ll tease her with the tears +in his eyes,--or else her banties. + +How do you like your teacher? Do you learn any lessons at school? You +must try to get up above all the other ones. We’ve got two new teachers +this year. One is clever, and we like that one, but the other one isn’t +very. We call the good one Wedding Cake, and we call the other one Brown +Bread. Did grandmother tell you about the Fortune Tellers? We went +to-day and she told mine true. She said my father was a very kind man, +and said I was quick to get mad, and said I had just got something I’d +wanted a long time (watch, you know), and said I should have something +else that I wanted, but didn’t say when. I wonder how she knew I wanted +a gun. I thought perhaps somebody told her, and laid it to Old Wonder +Boy, for we two had been talking about guns. But he flared up just like +a flash of powder. “There. Now you needn’t blame that on to me!” says +he. “You fellers always do blame everything on to me!” Sometimes when +somebody touches him he hollers out, “Leave me loose! Leave me loose!” +Dorry says that’s the way fellers talk down in Jersey. The Fortune +Teller told W. B. that he came from a long way off, and that he wanted +to be a soldier, but he’d better give up that, for he wouldn’t dare to +go to war, without he went behind to sell pies. All of us laughed to +hear that, for Old Wonder Boy is quick to get scared. But he is always +straightening himself up, and looking big, and talking about his native +land, and what he would do for his native land, and how he would fight +for his native land, and how he would die for his native land. He says +that why she told him that kind of a fortune was because he gave her +pennies and not silver money. His uncle that goes cap’n of a vessel has +sent him a letter, and in the letter it said that he had a sailor aboard +his ship that used to come to this school. + +[Illustration] + +I was going to tell you a funny story about W. B.’s getting scared, but +Dorry he keeps teasing me to go somewhere. I made these joggly letters +when he tickled my ears with his paint-brush. Has your pullet begun to +lay yet? I hope my rooster won’t be killed. Tell them not to. Benjie +says he had a grand great rooster. It was white and had green and purple +tail feathers, O, very long tail feathers, and stood ’most as high as a +barrel of flour, with great yellow legs, and had a beautiful crow, and +could drive away every other one that showed his head, and he set his +eyes by that rooster, but when he got home they had killed him for +broth, and when he asked ’em where his rooster was they brought out the +wish-bone and two tail feathers, and that was all there was left of him. +I wouldn’t have poor little kitty drowned way down in the deep water +’cause to drown a kitty couldn’t make a birdie alive again. Have your +flowers bloomed out yet? You must be a good little girl, and try to +please your grandmother all you can. + +From your affectionate brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Now Dorry’s run to head off a loose horse, and I’ll tell you about +Old Wonder Boy’s getting scared. It was one night when--Now there comes +Dorry back again! But next time I will. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister, about Old Wonder Boy’s Fright._ + +MY DEAR SISTER,-- + +I will put that little story I am going to tell you right at the +beginning, before Dorry and Bubby Short get back. I mean about W. B.’s +getting scared. But don’t you be scared, for after all ’t was--no, I +mean after all ’t wasn’t--but wait and you’ll know by and by, when I +tell you. ’T was one night when Dorry and I and some more fellers were a +sitting here together, and we all of us heard some thick boots coming-a +hurrying up the stairs, and the door came a banging open, and W. B. +pitched in, just as pale as a sheet, and couldn’t but just breathe. And +he tried to speak, but couldn’t, only one word at once, and catching his +breath between, just so,--“Shut--the--door!--Do!--Do!--shut--the door!” +Then we shut up the door, and Bubby Short stood his back up against it +because ’t wouldn’t quite latch, and now I will tell you what it was +that scared him. Not at the first of it, but I shall tell it just the +same way we found it out. + +Says he, “I was making a box, and when I got it done ’t was dark, but I +went to carry the carpenter’s tools back to him, because I promised to. +And going along,” says he, “I thought I heard a funny noise behind me, +but I didn’t think very much about it, but I heard it again, and I +looked over my shoulder, and I saw something white behind me, a chasing +me. I went faster, and then that went faster. Then I went slower, and +then that went slower. And then I got scared and ran as fast as I could, +and looked over my shoulder and ’t was keeping up. But it didn’t run +with feet, nor with legs, for then I shouldn’t ’a’ been scared. But it +came--O, I don’t know how it came, without anything to go on.” + +Dorry asked him, “How did it look?” + +“O,--white. All over white,” says W. B. + +“How big was it?” Bubby Short asked him. + +“O,--I don’t know,” says W. B. “First it looked about as big as a +pigeon, but every time I looked round it seemed to grow bigger and +bigger.” + +“Maybe ’t was a pigeon,” says Dorry. “Did it have any wings?” + +“Not a wing,” says W. B. + +“Maybe ’t was a white cat,” says Mr. Augustus. + +“O, poh, cat!” says W. B. + +“Or a poodle dog,” says Benjie. + +“Nonsense, poodle dog!” says W. B. + +“Or a rabbit,” says Bubby Short. + +“O, go ’way with your rabbit!” says W. B. “Didn’t I tell you it hadn’t +any feet or legs to go with?” + +“Then how could it go?” Mr. Augustus asked him. + +“That’s the very thing,” said W. B. + +“Snakes do,” says Bubby Short. + +“But a snake wouldn’t look white,” says Benjie. + +“Without ’t was scared,” says Dorry. + +I said I guessed I knew. Like enough ’t was a ghost of something. + +I said like enough of a robin or some kind of bird. + +“Of what?” then they all asked me. + +“That he’d stolen the eggs of,” says Dorry. + +“O yes!” says Old Wonder Boy. “It’s easy enough to laugh, in the light +here, but I guess you’d ’a’ been scared, seeing something chasing you in +the dark, and going up and down, and going tick, tick, tick, every time +it touched ground, and sometimes it touched my side too.” + +“For goodness gracious!” says Dorry. “Can’t you tell what it seemed most +like?” + +“I tell you it didn’t seem most like anything. It didn’t run, nor walk, +nor fly, nor creep, nor glide along. And when I got to the Great +Elm-Tree, I cut round that tree, and ran this way, and that did too.” + +“Where is it now?” Dorry asked him. + +“O, don’t!” says W. B. “Don’t open the door. ’T is out there.” + +“Come, fellers,” Dorry said, “let’s go find it.” + +Benjie said, “Let’s take something to hit it with!” And he took an +umbrella and I took the bootjack, and Bubby Short took the towel horse, +and Mr. Augustus took a hair-brush, and Dorry took his boot with his arm +run down in it, and first we opened the door a crack and didn’t go out, +but peeped out, but didn’t see anything there. Then we went out a +little ways, and then we didn’t see anything. And pretty soon, going +along towards the stairs, Bubby Short stepped on something. “What’s +that?” says he. And he jumped, and we all flung our things at it. “Hold +the light!” Dorry cried out. + +[Illustration] + +Then W. B. brought out the light, and there wasn’t anything there but a +carpenter’s reel, with a chalk line wound up on it, and they picked it +up and began to wind up, and when they came to the end of it--where do +you s’pose the other end was? In W. B.’s pocket! and his ball and some +more things held it fast there, and that chalk-line reel was what went +bobbing up and down behind Old Wonder Boy every step he took,--bob, bob, +bobbing up and down, for there was a hitch in the line and it couldn’t +unwind any more, and the line under the door was why ’t wouldn’t latch, +and O, but you ought to ’ve heard the fellers how they roared! and Bubby +Short rolled over on the floor, and Dorry he tumbled heels over head on +all the beds, and we all shouted and hurrahed so the other fellers came +running to see what was up, and then the teachers came to see who was +flinging things round so up here, and to see what was the matter, but +there couldn’t anybody tell what the matter was for laughing, and W. B. +he looked so sheepish! O, if it wasn’t gay! How do you like this story? +That part where it touched his side was when that reel caught on +something and so jerked the string some. Now I must study my lesson. + +Your affectionate brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. When you send a box don’t send very many clothes in it, but send +goodies. I tell you things taste good when a feller’s away from his +folks. Dorry’s father had a picture taken of Dorry’s little dog and sent +it to him, and it looks just as natural as some boys. Tell Aunt Phebe’s +little Tommy he may sail my boat once. ’T is put away up garret in that +corner where I keep things, side of that great long-handled thing, +grandmother’s warming-pan. I mean that little sloop boat I had when I’s +a little feller. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +_Georgianna’s Letter to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER BILLY,---- + +Kitty isn’t drowned. I’ve got ever so many new dolls. My grandmother +went to town, not the same day my kitty did that, but the next day, and +she brought me home a new doll, and that same day she went there my +father went to Boston, and he brought me home a very big one,----no, not +very, but quite big,----and Aunt Phebe went a visiting to somebody’s +house that very day, and she brought me home a doll, and while she was +gone away Hannah Jane dressed over one of Matilda’s old ones new, and +none of the folks knew that the others were going to give me a doll, and +then Uncle J. said that if it was the family custom to give Georgianna a +doll, he would give Georgianna a doll, and he went to the field and +catched the colt, and tackled him up into the riding wagon on purpose, +and then he started off to town, and when he rode up to our back door +there was a great dolly, the biggest one I had, and she was sitting down +on the seat, just like a live one. And she had a waterfall, and she had +things to take off and on. Then Uncle J. asked me what I should do with +my old dollies that were ’most worn out. And I said I didn’t know what I +should. And then Uncle J. said that he would take the lot, for +twenty-five cents a head, to put up in his garden, for scarecrows, and +he asked me if I would sell, and I said I would. And he put the little +ones on little poles and the big ones on tall poles, with their arms +stretched out, and the one with a long veil looked the funniest, and so +did the one dressed up like a sailor boy, but one arm was broke off of +him, and a good many of their noses too. The one that had on old woman’s +clothes Uncle J. put a pipe in her mouth. And the one that had a pink +gauze dress, but ’t is all faded out now, and a long train, but the +train was torn very much, that one has a great bunch of +flowers----paper----pinned on to her, and another in her hand, and the +puppy he barks at ’em like everything. My pullet lays, little ones, you +know. I hope she won’t do like Lucy Maria’s Leghorn hen. That one flies +into the bedroom window every morning, and lays eggs on the bedroom bed. +For maybe ’t would come in before I got up. My class has begun to learn +geography, and my father has bought me a new geography. But I guess I +sha’ n’t like to learn it very much if the backside is hard as the +foreside is. Uncle J. says no need to worry your mind any about that old +fowl, for he’s so tough he couldn’t be killed. I wish you would tell me +how long he could live if it wasn’t killed, for Uncle J. says they grow +tougher every year, and if you should let one live too long, then he +can’t die. But I guess he’s funning, do you? Our hens scratched and +scratched up some of my flowers, and so did the rain wash some up that +night it came down so hard, but one pretty one bloomed out this morning, +but it has budded back again now. Aunt Phebe says she sends her love to +you, tied up with this pretty piece of blue ribbon. She says, if you +want to, you can take the ribbon and wear it for a neck bow. Grandmother +says how do you know but that sailor that went to your school in Old +Wonder Boy’s uncle’s vessel is that big boy, that bad one that ran away, +you called Tom Cush? + +Father laughs to hear about Old Wonder Boy, and he says a bragger ought +to be laughed at, and bragging is a bad thing. But he don’t want you to +pick out all the bad things about a boy to send home in your letters; +says next time you must send home a good thing about him, because he +thinks every boy you see has some good things as well as some bad +things. + +A dear little baby has moved in the house next to our house. It lets me +hold her, and its mother lets me drag her out. It’s got little bits of +toes, and it’s got a little bit of a nose, and it says “Da da! da da! da +da!” And when I was dragging her out, the wheel went over a poor little +butterfly, but I guess it was dead before. O, its wings were just as +soft! and ’t was a yellow one. And I buried it up in the ground close to +where I buried up my little birdie, side of the spring. + +Your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANNA. + + * * * * * + +Among the other letters I find the following, from Tom Cush. As the +people at Summer Sweeting place had been told the circumstances of his +running away, it was not only proper, but just, that William Henry +should send them this letter. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from Tom Cush to Dorry._ + +DEAR FRIEND,---- + +I have not seen you for a great while. I hope you are in good health. +Does William Henry go to school there now? And does Benjie go, and +little Bubby Short? I hope they are in good health. Do the Two Betseys +keep shop there now? Is Gapper Skyblue alive now? I am in very good +health. I go to sea now. That’s where I went when I went away from +school. I suppose all the boys hate me, don’t they? But I don’t blame +them any for hating me. I should think they would all of them hate me. +For I didn’t act very well when I went to that school. Our captain knows +about that school, for he is uncle to a boy that has begun to go. He’s +sent a letter to him. I wish that boy would write a letter to him, +because he might tell about the ones I know. + +I’ve been making up my mind about telling you something. I’ve been +thinking about it, and thinking about it. I don’t like to tell things +very well. But I am going to tell this to you. It isn’t anything to +tell. I mean it isn’t like news, or anything happening to anybody. But +it is something about when I was sick. For I had a fit of sickness. I +don’t mean afterwards, when I was so very sick, but at the first +beginning of it. + +The captain he took some books out of his chest and said I might have +them to read if I wanted to. And I read about a man in one of them, and +the king wanted him to do something that the man thought wasn’t right to +do; but the man said he would not do what was wrong. And for that he was +sent to row in a very large boat among all kinds of bad man, thieves and +murderers and the worst kind. They had to row every minute, and were +chained to their oars, and above their waists they had no clothes on. +They had overseers with long whips. The officers stayed on deck over the +rowers’ heads, and when they wanted the vessel to go faster, the +overseers made their long whip-lashes cut into the men’s backs till they +were all raw and bleeding. Nights the chains were not taken off, and +they slept all piled up on each other. Sometimes when the officers were +in a hurry, or when there were soldiers aboard, going to fight the +enemy’s vessels, then the men wouldn’t have even a minute to eat, and +were almost starved to death, and got so weak they would fall over, but +then they were whipped again. And when they got to the enemy’s ships, +they had to sit and have cannons fired in among them. Then the dead ones +were picked up and thrown into the water. And the king told the man that +if he wanted to be free, and have plenty to eat and a nice house, and +good clothes to wear, all he had to do was to promise to do that wrong +thing. But the man said no. For to be chained there would only hurt his +body. But to do wrong would hurt his soul. + +And I read about some people that lived many hundred years ago and the +emperor of that country wanted these people to say that their religion +was wrong and his religion was the right one. But they said, “No. We +believe ours is true, and we cannot lie.” Then the emperor took away all +their property, and pierced them with red-hot irons, and threw some into +a place where they kept wild beasts. But they still kept saying, “We +cannot lie, we must speak what we believe.” And one was a boy only +fifteen years old. And the emperor thought he was so young they could +scare him very easy. And he said to him, “Now say you believe the way I +want you to, or I will have you shut up in a dark dungeon.” But the boy +said, “I will not say what is false.” And he was shut up in a dark +dungeon, underground. And one day the emperor said to him, “Say you +believe the way I want you to, or I will have you stretched upon a +rack.” But the boy said, “I will not speak falsely.” And he was +stretched upon a rack till his bones were almost pulled apart. Then the +emperor asked, “Now will you believe that my religion is right?” But the +boy could not say so. And the emperor said, “Then you’ll be burned +alive!” The boy said, “I can suffer the burning, but I cannot lie.” Then +he was brought out and the wood was piled up round him, and set on fire, +and the boy was burned up with the wood. And while he was burning up he +thanked God for having strength enough to suffer and not lie. + +Dorry, I want to tell you how much I’ve been thinking about that man and +that boy ever since. And I want to ask you to do something. I’ve been +thinking about how mean I was, and what I did there so as not to get +punished. And I want you to go see my mother and tell her that I’m +_ashamed_. Don’t make any promises to my mother, but only just tell, +“_Tom’s ashamed_.” That’s all. I don’t want to make promises. But I know +myself just what I mean to do. But I sha’ n’t talk about that any. Give +my regards to all inquiring friends. + +Your affectionate friend, + +TOM. + +P.S. Can’t you tell things about me to William Henry and the others, for +it is very hard to me to write a letter? Write soon. + +T. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Carver’s visit to the Crooked Pond School alluded to in the +following letter was quite an event for my Summer Sweeting friends, and +caused an extra amount of cooking to be done in both families. Boys +don’t half appreciate the blessing of not being too old to have goodies +sent them. Now goodies taste good to me, very good, but I haven’t a +friend in the world who would think of boiling up a kettleful of +molasses into candy, or of making a waiterful of seed-cakes to send me. +_Too old_, they say,--in actions, if not in words. How cruelly we are +misjudged sometimes, and by those who ought to know us best! I shall +never be too old to receive a box like that of William Henry’s, never, +never!--unless my whole constitution is altered and several _clauses_ +taken out of it. + +I remember of seeing that waiter of “good seed-cakes” on grandmother’s +best room table, between the front windows, waiting to be packed in Mr. +Carver’s valise. Mr. Carver’s black silk neck-handkerchief, tall hat, +clean dickies, stockings, two red and white silk pocket-handkerchiefs, +and various other articles were distributed over the adjacent chairs, +and his umbrella, in a brown cambric covering, stood near by. I have the +impression that most of these things were ironed over, five or six +times, as grandmother felt that apparel going away from home could not +be too much ironed. Besides, it seemed to her impossible that such an +event as Billy’s father setting out on his travels should take place +without extra exertions in some quarter. + +Mr. Carver had other business which took him from home, but as “going to +see Billy” was thought _enough to tell Mrs. Paulina_, why, it is enough +for me to tell. “Mrs. Paulina” was an elderly woman, the wife of Mr. +John Slade, one of the neighbors, and she was called “Mrs. Paulina,” to +distinguish her from several other Mrs. Slades. + +Mrs. Paulina had her own opinion as to how money and time should be +spent,--everybody’s money and time. She was one of the prying sort, and +had wonderful skill in ferreting out all the whys and wherefores of her +neighbor’s proceedings. It was a common thing at the Farm to say, when +undertaking some new scheme, “Well, how much shall we tell Mrs. +Paulina?” It being a matter of course that she would inquire into it. +The girls often amused themselves by giving her _blinding_ answers just +to see how she would contrive to carry her point. I remember their +having great fun doing this, just after William Henry went away to +school. Lucy Maria said ’t was just like a conundrum to Mrs. Paulina, a +great mammoth conundrum, and the poor thing must be told about “Old +Uncle Wallace,” or she would wear herself out, wondering “how Mr. Carver +could possibly afford the money.” + +The “Old Uncle Wallace” thus brought to the rescue of Mrs. Paulina would +probably not have came to her rescue, or to any woman’s rescue, had he +been free to choose, seeing that he lived and died a bachelor, and a +stingy bachelor at that! The old miser was a distant uncle,--either +half-uncle, or grand-uncle, or half grand-uncle of the Mr. Carvers, and +lived, that is before he died, in a town some twenty miles off. Billy’s +father was named for Uncle Wallace, and when a little boy, lived in the +same neighborhood, and was quite a favorite with him. + +The acquaintance with that distant branch of the family, however, had +not been kept up, in fact I have no recollection of a single member of +it ever coming to the Farm. They were people well to do in the world, +and neither Mr. Carver nor Uncle Jacob were men to “honey round” rich +relations. Certainly they never would have fawned upon the miserly old +fellow, who had the reputation of being mean and tricky as well as +miserly. + +It seems, however, that “Uncle Wallace” did not wholly forget his +namesake, for in his will he left him quite a valuable wood-lot near +Corry’s Pond,--some six or eight miles from the Farm,--and a few hundred +dollars besides. + +This occurred not a great while before my first ride out with Uncle +Jacob. Mr. Carver had long felt that Billy was being spoiled at home, +and the Crooked Pond School being recommended at that time as “really +good,” and “not too expensive,” he resolved that while _feeling rich_ he +would place his son at that institution. And he was more especially +inclined to do so for the reason that an old friend of his lived near +there, and this friend’s wife promised to see that the boy did not go +about in actual rags. She is probably the person to whom William Henry +refers in his first letters, as “the woman I go to have my buttons sewed +on to.” + +The above circumstances were duly imparted to Mrs. Paulina, yet that +perplexed woman got no relief. True, it was something to know where the +money came from, but “How could a man,” she asked, “spend so much money +on eddication, when it might be drawing interest, or put into land?” + +Mrs. Paulina couldn’t guess. She gave it up. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry’s Letter to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,---- + +I suppose my father has got home again by this time. I like to have my +father come to see me. The boys all say my father is a tip-top one. I +guess they like to have a man treat them with so many peanuts and good +seed-cakes. I got back here to-day from Dorry’s cousin’s party. My +father let me go. I wish my sister could have seen that party. Tell her +when I get there I will tell her all about the little girls, and tell +her how cunning the little ones, as small as she, looked dancing, and +about the good things we had. O, I never saw such good things before! I +didn’t know there were such kinds of good things in the world. + +Did my father tell you all about that letter that Tom Cush wrote to +Dorry? Ask him to. Dorry sent that letter right to Tom Cush’s mother. +And when Dorry and I were walking along together the next morning after +the party, she was sitting at her window, and as soon as she saw us she +said, “Won’t you come in, boys? Do come in!” And looked so glad! And +laughed, and about half cried, after we went in, and it was that same +room where we went before. But it didn’t seem so lonesome now, not half. +It looked about as sunshiny as our kitchen does, and they had +flower-vases. I wish I could get some of those pretty seeds for my +sister, for she hasn’t got any of that kind of flowers. + +She seemed just as glad to see us! And shook hands and looked so +smiling, and so did Tom’s father when he came into the room. He had a +belt in his hand that Tom used to wear when he used to belong to that +Base-ball Club. And when we saw that Dorry said, “Why! has Tom got +back?” Tom’s mother said, “O no.” But his father said, “O yes! Tom’s got +back. He hasn’t got back to our house, but he’s got back. He hasn’t got +back to town, but he’s got back. He hasn’t got back to his own country, +but he’s got back. For I call that getting back,” says he, “when a boy +gets back to the right way of feeling.” + +Then Tom’s mother took that belt and hung it up where it used to be +before, for it had been taken down and put away, because they didn’t +want to have it make them think of Tom so much. + +She said when Tom got back in earnest, back to the house, that we two, +Dorry and I, must come there and make a visit, and I hope we shall, for +they’ve got a pond at the bottom of their garden, and Tom’s father owns +a boat, and you mustn’t think I should tip over, for I sha’ n’t, and no +matter if I should, I can swim to shore easy. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + + WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. Bubby Short didn’t mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw +hat, and we couldn’t get it out even again, and I didn’t want him to, +but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man +didn’t have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was +dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I +wouldn’t let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because +I didn’t have quite enough. Don’t shopkeepers have the most money of all +kinds of men? Wouldn’t you be a shopkeeper when I grow up? It seems +just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled +jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to +send some of W. B.’s good things. He wrote a very good composition about +heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be +sending one of his good things. It’s got in it about two dozen kinds of +heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And +Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may +read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads. + +W. H. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +_W. B.’s Composition._ + +HEADS. + +Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of +notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell +just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best +kind. Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won’t +stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn’t quite so +bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won’t be coaxed nor turned, +they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of +fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads +are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of +heads besides our heads. + +First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads +of sermons,--sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one +sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle,--when a farmer reckons +up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, +Drumheads,--drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or +tails,--when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders,--when you let +off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head--like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, +Cabbageheads,--dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. +Eleventh, At Loggerheads,--when you don’t agree. Twelfth, Heads of +chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off,--when you want to stop a horse, or a +boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. +Sixteenth, The Masthead,--where they send sailors to punish them. +Seventeenth, get up to the head,--when you spell the word right. +Eighteenth, The Head of a stream,--where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by +the head,--when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a +Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that’s the +end of a stick of timber that a ship’s anchor hangs by. Twenty-second, +A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A +Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead,--but +first be sure you are right. + + * * * * * + +_Bubby Short’s Composition._ + +ON MORNING. + +It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green +fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the +day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get +up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the +morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the +morning, or there’s a rainbow, ’t will be rainy weather. Fish bite best +in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning. + +Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in +handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been +written during William Henry’s second school year. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry’s Letter about the “Charade.”_ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers +had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the +word was--no, I mustn’t tell you, because it has to be guessed by +actions, and when you get the paper that I’m going to send you, soon as +I buy a two-cent stamp, then you’ll see it all printed out in that +paper. The teacher the fellers call Wedding Cake, because he’s such a +good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last +night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and +what things to put on, and everything. You’ll see it printed there, but +you must please to send it back, for I promised to return. + +There weren’t females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we +all liked to ha’ died a laughing, getting ready, but when we +were--there, I ’most told! + +O if you could ha’ seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged +clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed +round that cap--just as sober--much as we could do to keep in! I was a +clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece +of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, +like a clerk, and I did. + +Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn’t strut, but he struts other +times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh. + +Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and +quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller +and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the +shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they’re grown +up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. +And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we +all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a +sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth. + +I wish you all and Aunt Phebe’s folks had been there. We had a treat, +and O, if ’t wasn’t a treat, why, I’ll agree to treat myself. Three +kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped +cakes and candy, and _such_ a great floating island in a platter!--Dorry +said ’t was a floating continent!--and had red jelly round the platter’s +edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he +isn’t a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves +if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more +too, I say. + +And so I can’t tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly +can, + +Your affectionate grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +Please lend it to Aunt Phebe’s folks. + + * * * * * + +CHARADE. (_Carpet._) + +FIRST SYLLABLE. + +_Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter +and take their seats. Placard stuck up, “Beware of Pickpockets,” in +capitals._ + +_First._ Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, +lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to +read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look +over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be +going on while the other passengers are entering. + +_Second._ Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out +little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after +putting ticket in his hat-band. + +_Third._ Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella, and +bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty. + +_Fourth._ A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth +and spectacles. + +_Fifth._ Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers. + +_Sixth._ Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, +watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his +seat, using his eyeglass frequently. + +_Seventh._ Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and +sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, +changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to +please it, dancing them up and down before its face. + +_Eighth._ Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits. + +_Ninth._ Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She +minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, +first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans +herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) “All aboard!” + +_Tenth._ In a hurry, Lady that’s been a-shopping, leading or pulling +along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and +has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, +a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various +other things). Doll’s heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. +Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, +imitating Dandy’s polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges her +bonnet-strings, takes off the child’s hat, smooths its hair, &c. + +Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down +motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, +whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters. + +Enter Conductor with an immense _badge_ on his hat, or coat. Calls out +“Have your tickets ready!” Then passes along the aisle, and calls out +again, “Tickets!” The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take +them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers +in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. +Conductor, after _nipping_ the tickets, passes out. + +Enter boy with papers, “Mornin’ papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!” +(Business man buys one.) “Mornin’ papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!” +(Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, +“Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!” (Noise heard +of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little +hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer +fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking +motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. “Jessup’s candy! All flavors! Five +cents a stick!” (Lady buys one for baby.) “Jessup’s candy! All flavors! +Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!” (Yankee buys one, offers half to +fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out. + +Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, +others let them lie. (Dandy buys one.) Boy collects them and passes +out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After +playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop +something in it. Exit boy. + +Enter Conductor. “Tickets!” Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) +Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes +out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, +pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall +on a smash-up.) + +SECOND SYLLABLE. + +_LADY in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head +on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter MAGGIE with +tray._ + +_Maggie._ Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. ’T will cheer ye up like! + +_Lady (looking up)._ No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It +is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he’s lost! + +_Maggie._ And did ye slape at arl, mum? + +_Lady._ Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude +boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, +or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, +cannot eat. + +_Exit MAGGIE with breakfast things. Enter MIKE with newspapers._ + +_Mike._ Mornin’ paper, mum. + +_Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns)._ Let +me see if he is found. O, here! “Found! A diamond pin on--” Pshaw, +diamond pin! Here it is. “Dog found! Black and tan--” Faugh, black and +tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where’s the notice of our +darling’s being lost? + +_Mike._ Shure, an’ it’s to the side o’ the house I put it, mum, arl writ +in illegant sizey litters, mum. + +_Lady (in alarm)._ And didn’t you go to the printers at all? + +_Mike._ Shure an’ be n’t it better out in the brard daylight, mum, +laning aginst th’ ’ouse convanient like, an’ aisy to see, mum? + +_Lady._ O Mike, you’ve undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I +say. + +_Exit MIKE._ + +_Lady (solus)._ It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked +my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my +chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His +little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now? + +_Enter MIKE, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large +letters._ + + Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!! + +_Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger._ + +_Mike._ An’ it’s meeself larned the fine writin’, mum, in th’ ould +counthry. + +_Lady (excited)._ Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen +and paper! + +_Exit MIKE, muttering. Knock heard at door._ + +_Lady._ Come! + +_Enter_ MARKET-MAN, _in blue frock_. + +_Market-man._ Good day, ma’am. Heard you’d lost a dog. + +_Lady (eagerly, with hand extended)._ Yes, yes! Where is he? + +_Market-man._ Was he a curly, shaggy dog? + +_Lady._ Yes! O yes! Where did you find him? + +_Market-man._ Was your dog bright and playful? + +_Lady (in an excited manner)._ O, very! very! + +_Market-man._ Answered to the name of Carlo? + +_Lady._ Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms! + +_Market-man (in surprise)._ Arms, ma’am? Arms? ’T is a Newfoundland dog! +He could carry you in his arms! + +_Lady (dejected)._ O cruel, cruel disappointment! + +_Market-man._ What kind of a dog was yours? + +_Lady._ O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk! + +_Market-man (going)._ Good day, ma’am. If I see him, I’ll fetch him. + +_Exit MARKET-MAN. MIKE enters with writing materials, and goes out +again. LADY begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud._ + +_Lady._ Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly--(_Tap at door._) Come! + +_Enter stupid-looking BOY, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large +hat._ + +_Lady._ Did you wish to see me? + +_Boy (drawling)._ Yes, ma’am. + +_Lady._ About a dog? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma’am. + +_Lady._ Have you found one? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma’am. + +_Lady._ Is it a very small dog? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma’am. + +_Lady._ Sweet and playful? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma’am? + +_Lady._ Did you bring him with you? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma’am (_pointing_). Out there. + +_Lady (excited)._ O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If +it should! (BOY _brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted_.) + +_Lady (in disgust)._ O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take +him away! + +_Boy._ Isn’t that your dog? + +_Lady._ No! no! O, can’t you take the horrid animal away? + +_Boy (going)._ Yes, ma’am. + +_Exit_ BOY _with dog_. LADY _prepares to write_. + +_Lady._ Stupid thing! Now I’ll write. (_Repeats._) LOST, STRAYED, OR +STOLEN. A CURLY, WHITE--(_Tap at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._) + +_Enter ragged BOY, with covered basket._ + +_Lady._ Have _you_ found a dog? + +_Boy._ No, I hain’t found no dog. + +_Lady._ Then what do you want? + +_Boy._ Father sells puppies. Father said if you’d lost your dog, you’d +want to buy one of ’em. Said you could take your pick out o’ these ’ere +five. (_Opens basket for her to look in._) + +_Lady (shuddering)._ Little wretches! Away with them! + +_Boy._ They’ll grow, father said, high’s the table. + +_Lady._ Carry them off, can’t you? + +_Boy._ Father wants to know what you’ll take for your dog, running. +Father said he’d give a dollar, an’ risk the ketchin’ on him. + +_Lady._ Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, +and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry +dollar! + +_Boy (going)._ Good mornin’. Guess I’ll be goin’. If I find your dog, I +won’t (_aside_) let you know. + +_Exit BOY, with bow and scrape._ + +_Lady (writes again, and repeats)._ LOST, STRAYED, OR STOLEN. A +CUR--(_Knock at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._) + +_Enter MRS. MULLIGAN._ + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ An’ is it yourself lost a dog, thin? + +_Lady (eagerly)._ Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen +him? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ Och, no. But’t was barkin’ all night he was, behint th’ +’ouse. An’ the b’ys,--that’s me Pat an’ Tim, they _drooned_ him, mum, +bad luck to ’em, in the mornin’ arly. + +_Lady._ And did you see him? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ No, shure. + +_Lady._ And where is he now? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ O, it’s safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o’ No +Bottom Pond, mum. + +_Lady._ And how do you know ’t is my dog? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ Faith, an’ whose dog should it be, thin? + +_Lady._ Send your boys, and I’ll speak with them. + +_Mrs. Mulligan (going)._ I’ll send them, mum. Mornin’ mum. + +_Exit MRS. MULLIGAN. Another tap at the door._ + +_Lady._ O, this is not to be borne! Come! + +_Enter COUNTRYWOMAN with bandbox,--not an old woman._ + +_Lady (earnestly)._ If it’s about a dog, tell me all you know at once! +Is he living? + +_Countrywoman._ Yes’m, but he’s quite poorly. I think dogs shows their +sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin’s. + +_Lady._ Do tell quick. + +_Countrywoman._ Just what I want, for I’m in a hurry myself. So I’ll +jump right inter the thick on ’t. You see last night when my old man was +ridin’ out o’ town in his cart, with some o’ his cabbages left over, for +garden sarse hadn’t been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin’ +out on account o’ the off ox bein’ some lame, and my old man ain’t apt +to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, +you-- + +_Lady._ But about the dog! + +_Countrywoman._ Wal, the old man was a ridin’ along, slow, you know,--I +alwers tell him he’ll never set the great pond afire,--and a countin’ +over his cabbageheads and settlin’ the keg o’ molasses amongst ’em, and +a little jug of--(_nods and winks and smiles_),--jest for a medicine, +you know. For we _never do_,--I nor the old man,--never, ’xcept in case +o’ sickness. + +_Lady (impatiently)._ But what about the dog? + +_Countrywoman._ Wal, he was a ridin’ along, and jest got to the +outskirts o’ the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin’ +which should have a dog,--a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur-- + +_Lady._ Yes! Go on! Go on! + +_Countrywoman._ And he asked ’em would they take fifty cents apiece and +give it up. For he knew ’t would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they +took the fifty. + +_Lady (eagerly)._ And what did he do with him? Where is he now? + +_Countrywoman._ Why, I was goin’ to ride in with the old man this +mornin’ to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And +we happened to see that ’ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it +out! (_Opening bandbox._) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the +crown o’ my bunnet Seems poorly, but he’ll pick up. (_Takes out a white +lapdog._)[A] + +[Footnote A: A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.] + +_Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him)._ ’T is my Carlo. O my +precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and +put him to sleep. (_Rises to go out._) + +_Countrywoman._ But the five dollars, marm! + +_Lady._ O, you must call again. I can’t think of any paltry five +dollars, now. (_Exit._) + +_Countrywoman (calling out)._ I’ll wait, marm! + +_Enter MIKE._ + +_Mike._ An’ what bisness are ye doin’ here? + +_Countrywoman._ Waiting for my pay. + +_Mike._ Pay, is it? Och, she’ll niver pay the day. She’s owin’ me wages, +an’ owin’ the cook, and Mrs. Flarty that scoors, and the millinery +lady, an’ ’t is “Carl agin,” she sez. “Carl agin. Can’t ye carl agin?” + +_Countrywoman._ Then I’ll get mine now. (_Takes off shawl, and sits +down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning +on her knitting-sheath._) I don’t budge, without the pay. + +_MIKE looks on admiringly. Curtain drops._ + + +WHOLE WORD. + +_CLERK standing behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to +sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various +placards on the walls,--“No credit.” “Goods marked down!” &c. Enter OLD +WOMAN._ + +_Old Woman (speaking in rather high key)._ Do you keep stockings? + +_Clerk (handing box of stockings)._ O yes. Here are some, very good +quality. + +_Old Woman (examining them)._ Mighty thin, them be. + +_Clerk._ I assure you, they are warranted to wear. + +_Old Woman._ To wear out, I guess. + +_Enter YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE._ + +_Clerk._ Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day? + +_Wife (modestly)._ We wish to look at a few of your carpets. + +_Clerk._ This way, ma’am. + +_Husband._ Hem! (_Clearing his throat._) We will look at something for +parlors. + +_Clerk._ Here is a style very much admired. (_Unrolls carpet._) Elegant +pattern. We import all our goods, ma’am. That’s a firm piece of goods. +You couldn’t do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors. + +_Old Woman (coming near)._ A good rag carpet’ll wear out two o’ that. + +_Wife (to Husband)._ I think it is a lovely pattern. Don’t you like it, +Charley? + +_Husband._ Hem--well, I have seen prettier. But then, ’t is just as you +say, dear. + +_Wife._ O no, Charley. ’T is just as you say. I want to please you, +dear. + +_Old Woman (to Clerk)._ Have you got any crash towelling? + +_Husband._ What’s the price of this carpet? + +_Clerk._ Three dollars a yard. Here’s another style (_unrolls another_) +just brought in. (_Attends to Old Woman._) + +_Husband (speaking to Wife)._ Perhaps we’d better look at the other +articles you wanted. (_They go to another part of the store, examining +articles._) + +_Enter a spare, thin WOMAN, in plain dress and green veil._ + +_Clerk._ Can we sell you anything to-day? + +_Woman._ I was thinking of buying a carpet. + +_Clerk._ Step this way, ma’am. (_Shows them._) We have all styles, +ma’am. + +_Woman._ I want one that will last. (_Examining it._) + +_Clerk (taking hold of it)._ Firm as iron, ma’am. We’ve sold five +hundred pieces of that goods. If it don’t wear, we’ll agree to pay back +the money. + +_Woman._ I want one that won’t show dirt. + +_Clerk._ Warranted not to show dirt, ma’am. We warrant all our goods. + +_Woman._ Can it be turned? + +_Clerk._ Perfectly well, ma’am. ’Twill turn as long as there’s a bit of +it left. + +_Woman._ What do you ask? + +_Clerk._ Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, +but you may have it for three dollars. + +_Woman._ Couldn’t you take less? + +_Clerk._ Couldn’t take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale. + +_Woman._ I think I’ll look further. (_Going._) + +_Clerk._ Well, now seeing it’s the last piece, you may have it for two +fifty. + +_Woman._ I wasn’t expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (_Going._) + +_Clerk._ Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Say two and a quarter, and take +it. + +_Woman._ I have decided not to go over two dollars. (_Going._) + +_Clerk (crossly)._ Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In +fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five +yards? I’ll measure it directly. + +_Old Woman._ Have you got any cotton flannel? + +_Enter FASHIONABLE LADY._ + +_Clerk (all attention, bowing)._ Good morning, madam. Can we sell you +anything to-day? + +_Fashionable Lady._ I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you +anything new? + +_Clerk._ This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. +(_Shows one._) + +_Fashionable Lady._ It must light up well, or it will never suit me. + +_Clerk._ Lights up beautifully, madam. + +_Fashionable Lady._ Is this real tapestry? + +_Clerk._ O, certainly, madam. We shouldn’t think of showing you any +other. + +_Fashionable Lady._ What’s the price? + +_Clerk._ Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can’t offer it for less +than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece. + +_Fashionable Lady._ ’T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, +the price is no objection. + +_Old Woman (coming forward)._ Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get +a strip to lay down afore the fire. (_Speaking to Lady._) Goin’ to give +six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag +carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip ’em up inter +narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in +great balls. That’s your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all +colors. That’s your fillin’. Then hire your carpet wove, and that +carpet’ll last. + +_Enter POLICEMAN and a GENTLEMAN._ + +_Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady)._ That is the person. + +_Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder)._ This gentleman, madam, +thinks you have--_borrowed_ a quantity of his lace goods. + +_Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment)._ I? Impossible! +Impossible, sir! + +_Gentleman._ I am sure of it. + +_Policeman._ Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us? + +_Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement._ + + * * * * * + +I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a +sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising +money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don’t know which. I never do +know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the +first sounds more melodious. + +They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry’s. +Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the +charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby +carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and +he made a great ado turning it. + +At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a +general smash-up. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want +to have my skates here all ready. ’Most all the boys have got all theirs +already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the +sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play +trainer in when I’s a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you’ll +find ’em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I +are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It’s down +cellar. We went to be weighed, and the man said I was built of solid +timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, +and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then +at his weights; he didn’t know what to make of it. For I’ve grown so +much faster that we’re almost of a size. + +First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, +and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we +weighed? + +The fellers call us “Dorry & Co.” because we keep together so much. When +he goes anywhere he says “Come, Sweet William!” and when I go anywhere I +say “Come, Old Dorrymas!” There’s a flower named Sweet William. There +isn’t any fish named Dorrymas, but there’s one named Gurrymas. We keep +our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of +our traps. His bed is ’most close to mine, and the one that wakes up +first pulls the other one’s hair. One boy that comes here is a +funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out. +He isn’t a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes +days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He’s got great +eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to +laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, +sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something +spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you’ll find my skates, and send ’em right +off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden +peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come +together, under my trainer trousers; you’ll see the red stripes. + +Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn’t +you think ’t was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to +kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too. +“Let’s get up a good one while we’re about it,” says he, “that won’t +kick right out.” Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and +all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took +in peanuts. O, you ought to ’ve seen that bag of peanuts! Held about +half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told +somebody that when anybody said, “Let’s get up something,” it wasn’t +just the same as to say he’d pay part. But we say ’t is. And we talked +about it down to the Two Betseys’ shop, and Lame Betsey said ’t was mean +doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, “Anybody that won’t pay their +part, I don’t care _who_ they be.” And I’ve seen him eating taffy three +times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks +sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if +he’d take any, he took some. + +Now Spicey won’t do that. We said he might kick, but he don’t want to, +not till he gets his quarter. He’s going to earn it. If my skates don’t +hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy’s been +fooling with ’em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a +piece of the floor is broke out. You’d better look down that hole. I’m +going to send home my Report next time. I couldn’t get perfect every +time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he’d know too much to come to +school. But there’s some that do. Not very many. Spicey did four days +running. I could ’a got more perfects, only one time I didn’t know how +far to get, and another time I didn’t hear what the question was he put +out to me, and another time I didn’t stop to think and answered wrong +when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the +rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says +he wishes they’d take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and +so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, +and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put +me out. I shouldn’t think visitors would look a feller right in the +face, when he’s trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up +as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any +other kind; don’t you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I +laughed out loud. I didn’t mean to, but I’m easy to laugh. But Dorry he +can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I +was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder +Boy’s cheeks, and he couldn’t tell who snapped ’em, for Bubby Short +would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B. +jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh +coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I +knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some. + +I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I’m going to +send mine and Dorry’s photographs taken together. We both paid half. We +got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. ’T is stopping +here now. Course we didn’t expect to look very handsome. But the man +says ’t is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make. +Says he tells ’em he has to take what’s before him. Dorry says he’s sure +we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to +make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to +let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates +soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe’s +little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it. +Remember me to my sister. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an +expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the +frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the +three can give his merry laugh. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BOY,-- + +Your father and all of us were very glad to see that photograph, for it +seemed next thing to seeing you, you dear child. We couldn’t bear to +send it away so soon. I kept it on the mantel-piece, with my spectacles +close by, so that when I went past it I could take a look. We sent word +in to your aunt Phebe and in a few minutes little Tommy came running +across and said his “muzzer said he must bwing Billy’s Pokerdaff in, +wight off.” But I told him to tell his muzzer that Billy’s Pokerdaff +must be sent back very soon, and wasn’t going out of my sight a minute +while it stayed, and they must come in. And they did. We all think ’t is +a very natural picture, only too sober. You ought to try to look smiling +at such times. I wish you’d had somebody to pull down your jacket, and +see to your collar’s being even. But Aunt Phebe says ’t is a wonder you +look as well as you do, with no woman to fix you. I should know Dorry’s +picture anywhere. Uncle Jacob wants to know what you were both so cross +about? Says you look as if you’d go to fighting the minute you got up. + +Little Tommy is tickled enough with that sled, and keeps looking up in +the sky to see when snow is coming down, and drags it about on the bare +ground, if we don’t watch him. + +I had almost a good mind to keep the skates at home. Boys are so +venturesome. They always think there’s no danger. I said to your father, +“Now if anything should happen to Billy I should wish we’d never sent +them.” But he’s always afraid I shall make a Miss Nancy of you. Now I +don’t want to do that. But there’s reason in all things. And a boy +needn’t drown himself to keep from being a Miss Nancy. He thinks you’ve +got sense enough not to skate on thin ice, and says the teachers won’t +allow you to skate if the pond isn’t safe. But I don’t have faith in any +pond being safe. My dear boy, there’s danger even if the thermometer is +below zero. There may be spring-holes. Never was a boy got drowned yet +skating, but what thought there was no danger. Do be careful. I know you +would if you only knew how I keep awake nights worrying about you. + +Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew +how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home +a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won’t tell the price. They are +high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the +window of one of the grand stores, and thought he’d just step in and buy +them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I’m speaking of +the price. Now Georgie doesn’t go to parties, and where the child can +wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to +meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the +broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won’t do, because her meeting +dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege +dress to match ’em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he +heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, +he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has +sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at +the bottom he writes, “Company expected to appear in blue boots.” So I +dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, and draw my plush +moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob takes her things, and +waits upon her to the table, and they have great fun out of it. + +My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears +cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won’t be so cruel as to +laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don’t depend +upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head +and his heart. When I was a little girl and went to school in the old +school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the +school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old +gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to +wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a +gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant +smile, that I haven’t forgotten yet, though ’t was a great many years +ago. After we’d read and spelt, and the writing-books and +ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to +address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every +time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I’ve +remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way. + +“I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear +them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And +because I love them so well, I don’t want there should be anything bad +about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming;--I should be very +sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, +children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. +You can remember three words, can’t you?” + +“Yes, sir,” we would say. + +“Well, now, how long can you remember them?” he would ask,--“a week?” + +“Yes sir.” + +“Two weeks?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“A month?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“A year?” + +“Guess so.” + +“All your lives?” + +Then some would say, “Yes, sir,” and some would say they guessed not, +and some didn’t believe they could, and some knew they couldn’t. + +“Well, children,” he would say at last, “now I will tell you what the +three words are: Treat--everybody--well. Now what I want you to be +surest to remember is ’everybody.’ Everybody is a word that takes in a +great many people, and a great many kinds of people,--takes in the +washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that +come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand +clothes, and the help in the kitchen,--takes in those we don’t like and +even the ones that have done us harm. ‘Treat--_everybody_--well.’ For +you can afford to. A pleasant word don’t cost anything to give, and is a +very pleasant thing to take.” + +The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he +followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman +that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to +make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn’t wear good +clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the +ones best that wore the best clothes. He’d seen children, and grown +folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and +then be ugly and snappish to poor people they’d hired to work for them. +A real lady or gentleman,--he used to end off with this,--“A real lady, +and a real gentleman will--treat--everybody--well.” And I will end off +with this too. And don’t you ever forget it. For that you may be, my +dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of + +Your loving Grandmother. + +P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, +there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that +picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I +forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. +And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. +And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for +your Report. + + * * * * * + +I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue +boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of +those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of +blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six +little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go +in and buy, and now I haven’t one. + +Georgie’s boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her +grandmother knit. And I couldn’t see any harm in her wearing a red dress +with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for +me, and I’ll never turn against them! + +“Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!” + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven’t sniffed +my nose up any at Spicey. I’ll tell you why. Because I remember when I +first came, and had a red head, and how bad ’t was to be plagued all the +time. But I tell you if he isn’t a queer-looking chap! Don’t talk any, +hardly, but he’s great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs +itself. But not out loud. Dorry says ’t is a very wide smile. It comes +easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When +you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he +don’t know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and +when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he +laughs. Though he don’t have very much to give. But he can’t say no. All +the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an +apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, “Give me a +taste.” “Give me a taste,” till ’t was every bit tasted away. Then they +tried him on slate-pencils,--his had bully points to them,--and he gave +every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said +’t was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said +they’d done with ’em. Dorry says he’s going to ask him for his nose some +day, and then see what he’ll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he’s +a clever chap. And he won’t kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till +he’s paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he +said, No, I thank you. “Why not?” Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he +guessed he’d rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and +guess he heard about that feller that wouldn’t pay his part, and about +his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the school +about money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever +take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn’t mean +what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year’s Day, and all that. And +to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He’d heard +of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, +because they knew ’t wouldn’t be asked for. The feller I told you +about--the one that kicks and don’t pay--he owes Gapper Sky Blue for +four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he +knows Gapper won’t ask for two cents! Gapper let him have ’em for two +cents, because he’d had ’em a good while and the edges of ’em were some +crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won’t say +anything ever, and so he’s trying to keep from paying. I guess his left +ear burns sometimes! + +Gapper can’t go round now, selling cakes, because he’s lame, and has to +go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make +tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, +and sell ’em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if +’t isn’t bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up +to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn’t there +only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes +ever so far. Bubby Short ’most got run over by a sleigh. He was going +“knee-hacket” and didn’t see where he was going to, and went like +lightning right between the horses’ legs, and didn’t hurt him a bit. + +Last night when the moon shone the teachers let us go out, and they +went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn’t have +the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we’d drag it way up to the top, +and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, +and away we’d go. Once it ’most tipped over. O, I never did see anything +scream so loud as girls can when they’re scared? I wish ’t would be +winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question +we had last was, “Which is the best, Summer or Winter?” And we got so +fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers +to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns +firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter +to take notes, but I don’t know as you can read them, he was in such a +hurry. + +“In summer you can fly kites. + +“In winter you can skate. + +“In summer you have longer time to play. + +“In winter you have best fun coasting evenings. + +“In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats. + +“In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings. + +“In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball. + +“In winter you can coast and make snow-forts. + +“In summer you can go a fishing. + +“So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch +on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole +in the ice and set a light to draw ’em, and then take a jobber and job +’em as fast as you’re a mind to. + +“In summer you can go take a sail. + +“In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride. + +“In summer you don’t freeze to death. + +“In winter you don’t get sunstruck. + +“In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing. + +“In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the +icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the +sleigh-bells jingle. + +“In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other +berries. + +“In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and +preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) +and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!” + +(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time. + +“In summer you have Independent Day, and that’s the best day there is. +For if it hadn’t been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria. + +“In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather’s Day and Christmas +and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that’s +Washington’s Birthday. And if it hadn’t been for that we should have to +mind Queen Victoria.” + +When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds +to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but +the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how +glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful +things all the year round. Bubby Short says he’s sure he’s glad, for if +a feller couldn’t have fun what would he do? After we got out doors the +summer ones that didn’t go over hollered out to the other ones that did, +“Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! ’Fore I’d be Winter killed! Frost +bit! Frost bit! ’Fore I’d be Frost bit!” + +I should like to see my sister’s blue boots. I am very careful when I go +a skating. There isn’t any spring-hole in our pond. I don’t know where +my handkerchiefs go to. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Don’t keep awake. I’ll look out. Bubby Short’s folks write just so +to him. And Dorry’s. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be +drowned? + + * * * * * + +The boys must have been much interested in that “Debating Society.” When +William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called +upon all to take sides. + + * * * * * + +_Georgiana to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER,-- + +Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe’s to eat supper, and had on my light blue +boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over +because ’t was snowing, for he said the party couldn’t be put off +because they had got all ready. But the party wasn’t anybody but me, but +he’s all the time funning. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy he had some new +rubber boots, but they didn’t get there till after supper, and then ’t +was ’most his bedtime. But he got into the boots and walked all round +with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all +over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he +didn’t want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots +stay on till he got asleep, and then pull ’em off softly as she could. +Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, +without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed +about his boots, because soon as they pulled ’em a little bit, he +reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then +she pulled ’em off softly and stood ’em up in the corner. I carried my +work with me, and ’t was the handkerchief that is going to be put in +this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She +says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but +next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they +made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, +because I was the party, in the best waiter. + +And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped +on,--six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, +and she wouldn’t take a mite of care of them. She won’t let them get +close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on ’em all the time, +and broke one’s leg. She’s a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid +they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, +a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the +pigs. When ’t was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he +put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put +ashes on the fire first, so they could keep warm all night. And in the +night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought +the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and +tumbled down on to the floor and ’most killed himself so he died +afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the +little pigs all night. For soon as ’t was daylight, and before too, +Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with +him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his +bedroom window that he couldn’t take a nap. He told me to send to you in +my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and +winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning? + +Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that +killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping +this last one in a warm place, for they don’t dare to let it go into the +pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she’s +worse than a cannibal. But I don’t know what that is. He says they kill +men and eat them alive, but I guess he’s funning. She dips a sponge in +milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge. + +Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. +Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs +every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and +waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn’t get himself out, and +when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. +Then he cried. Tommy’s cut off a piece of his own hair. + +Your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANA. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister._ + +MY DEAR SISTER,-- + +You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky +Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. +You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed +that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long +stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that +was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby +Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I +read about the pigs I tell you if they didn’t laugh! And when that +little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the +floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, “Let’s play +have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob’s question.” And we did. +First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to +tell people ’t was time to get up and to let everybody know they +themselves were up and stirring about. Said he’d lain awake mornings, +down in Jersey, and listened and heard ’em say just as plain as day. +“I’m up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!” + +Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the +other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they +didn’t belong. Said he’d lain awake in the morning and heard ’em say, +just as plain as day, “If you do, I’ll give it to you! I’ll give it to +you oo oo oo!” + +But a little chap that had come to hear what was going on said ’t was +more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he’d +lain awake in the morning and listened and heard ’em say, “Come on if +you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!” + +Then ’t was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower +kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale +up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I’d lain awake in the +morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try +to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, “Open your mouth +wide and do as I do! Do as I do!” and then the young ones say, “Can’t +quite do so! Can’t quite do so!” + +Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what +anybody said, but he’d always understood they were talking about the +weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to +lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and +where there’d been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how +to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks’ eggs. + +The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our +lessons, so the Debating Society stopped. + +Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? +The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We +had flags flying, and I tell you if ’t wasn’t a bully go! We went ten +miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and +they’d up and hurrah, and then we’d hurrah back again. And one lot of +fellers, if they didn’t let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted our +driver to stop, and let us give it to ’em good. But he wouldn’t do it. +One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn’t get it unhitched +again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more +than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had +the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He +lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made +believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm ’em in the hay. +We ’most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, +where there wasn’t very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We +all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held ’em in +tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and +then she was so scared she didn’t know what to do, but just stood still +to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for +her to stand close up to the drift, and then there’d be room enough. + +[Illustration] + +When I got home I found my bundle and the tin box rolled up in that new +jacket, with all that good jelly in it. Old Wonder Boy peeped in and +says he, “O, there’s quite some jelly in there, isn’t there?” He says +down in Jersey they make nice quince-jelly out of apple-parings, and +said ’t was true, for he’d eaten some. Dorry said he knew that was +common in Ireland, but never knew ’t was done in this country. Dorry +says you must keep us posted about the last of the piggies. Keep your +pretty blue boots nice for Brother Billy to see, won’t you? Thank you +for hemming that pretty handkerchief. I’ve counted my handkerchiefs a +good many times, but counting ’em don’t make any difference. + +From your affectionate Brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +The course of true love it seems did not always ran smooth with Dorry +and William Henry. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +This is only a short letter that I am going to write to you, because I +don’t feel like writing any. But when I don’t write then you think I +have the measles, else drowned in the pond, and I’ll write a little, but +I feel so sober I don’t feel like writing very much. I suppose you will +say,--what are you feeling so sober about? Well, seems if I didn’t have +any fun now, for Dorry and I we’ve got mad at each other. And he don’t +hardly speak to me, and I don’t to him either; and if he don’t want to +be needn’t, for I don’t mean to be fooling round im, and trying to get +him to, if he don’t want to. + +Last night we all went out to coast, and the teachers and a good many +ladies and girls, and we were going to see which was the champion sled. +But something else happened first. The top of the hill was all bare, +and before they all got there some of the fellers were scuffling +together for fun, and Dorry and I we tried to take each other down. +First of it ’t was all in fun, but then it got more in earnest, and he +hit me in the face so hard it made me mad, and I hit him and he got mad +too. + +[Illustration] + +Then we began to coast, for the people had all got there. Dorry’s and +mine were the two swiftest ones, and we kept near each other, but his +slewed round some, and he said I hit it with my foot he guessed, and +then we had some words, and I don’t know what we did both say; but now +we keep away from each other, and it seems so funny I don’t know what to +do. The teacher asked me to go over to the stable to-day, for he lost a +bunch of compositions and thought they might have dropped out of his +pocket, when we went to take that sleigh-ride. And I was just going to +say, “Come on, Old Dorrymas!” before I thought. + +But ’t is the funniest in the morning. This morning I waked up early, +and he was fast asleep, and I thought, Now you’ll catch it, old fellow, +and was just a going to pull his hair; but in a minute I remembered. +Then I dressed myself and thought I would take a walk out. I went just +as softly by his bed and stood still there a minute and set out to give +a little pull, for I don’t feel half so mad as I did the first of it, +but was afraid he did. So I went out-doors and looked round. Went as far +as the Two Betseys’ Shop and was going by, but The Other Betsey stood at +the door shaking a mat, and called to me, “Billy, where are you going +to?” + +“Only looking round,” I said. She told me to come in and warm me, and I +thought I would go in just a minute or two. Lame Betsey was frying +flapjacks in a spider, a little mite of a spider, for breakfast. She +spread butter on one and made me take it to eat in a saucer, and I never +tasted of a better flapjack. There was a cinnamon colored jacket hanging +on the chair-back, and I said, “Why, that’s Spicey’s jacket!” “Who?” +they cried out both together. Then I called him by his right name, Jim +Mills. He’s some relation to them, and his mother isn’t well enough to +mend all his clothes, so Lame Betsey does it for nothing. He earns money +to pay for his schooling, and he wants to go to college, and they don’t +doubt he will. They said he was the best boy that ever was. His mother +doesn’t have anybody but him to do things for her, only his little +sister about the size of my little sister. He makes the fires and cuts +wood and splits kindling, and looks into the buttery to see when the +things are empty, and never waits to be told. When they talked about him +they both talked together, and Lame Betsey let one spiderful burn +forgetting to turn ’em over time enough. + +When I was coming away they said, “Where’s Dorry? I thought you two +always kept together.” For we did always go to buy things together. Then +I told her a little, but not all about it. + +“O, make up! make up!” they said. “Make up and be friends again!” I’m +willing to make up if he is. But I don’t mean to be the first one to +make up. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I guess you’ll think ’t is funny, getting another letter again from me +so soon, but I’m in a hurry to have my father send me some money to have +my skates mended; ask him if he won’t please to send me thirty-three +cents, and we two have made up again and I thought you would like to +know. It had been ’most three days, and we hadn’t been anywhere +together, or spoken hardly, and I hadn’t looked him in the eye, or he +me. Old Wonder Boy he wanted to keep round me all the time, and have +double-runner together. He knew we two hadn’t been such chums as we used +to be, so he came up to me and said, “Billy, I think that Dorry’s a mean +sort of a chap, don’t you?” + +“No, I don’t,” I said. “He don’t know what ’t is to be mean!” For I +wasn’t going to have him coming any Jersey over me! + +“O, you needn’t be so spunky about it!” says he. + +“I ain’t spunky!” says I. + +Then I went into the schoolroom, to study over my Latin Grammar before +school began, and sat down amongst the boys that were all crowding round +the stove. And I was studying away, and didn’t mind ’em fooling round +me, for I’d lost one mark day before, and didn’t mean to lose any more, +for you know what my father promised me, if my next Report improved +much. And while I was sitting there, studying away, and drying my feet, +for we’d been having darings, and W. B. he stumped me to jump on a place +where ’t was cracking, and I went in over tops of boots and wet my feet +sopping wet. And I didn’t notice at first, for I wasn’t looking round +much, but looking straight down on my Latin Grammar, and didn’t notice +that ’most all the boys had gone out. Only about half a dozen left, and +one of ’em was Dorry, and he sat to the right of me, about a yard off, +studying his lesson. Then another boy went out, and then another, and by +and by every one of them was gone, and left us two sitting there. O, we +sat just as still! I kept my head down, and we made believe think of +nothing but just the lesson. First thing I knew he moved, and I looked +up, and there was Dorry looking me right in the eye! And held out his +hand--“How are you, Sweet William?” says he, and laughed some. Then I +clapped my hand on his shoulder, “Old Dorrymas, how are you?” says I. +And so you see we got over it then, right away. + +Dorry says he wasn’t asleep that morning, when I stood there, only +making believe. Said he wished I’d pull, then he was going to pull too, +and wouldn’t that been a funny way to make up, pulling hair? He’s had a +letter from Tom Cush and he’s got home, but is going away again, for he +means to be a regular sailor and get to be captain of a great ship. He’s +coming here next week. I hope you won’t forget that thirty-three. I’d +just as lives have fifty, and that would come better in the letter, +don’t you believe it would? That photograph saloon has just gone by, and +the boys are running down to the road to chase it. When Dorry and I sat +there by the stove, it made me remember what Uncle Jacob said about our +picture. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +The reason that I’ve kept so long without writing is because I’ve had to +do so many things. We’ve been speaking dialogues and coasting and daring +and snowballing, and then we’ve had to review and review and review, +because ’t is the last of the term, and he says he believes in reviews +more than the first time we get it. I tell you, the ones that didn’t get +them the first time are bad off now. I wish now I’d begun at the first +of it and got every one of mine perfect, then I should have easier +times. The coast is wearing off some, and we carry water up and pour on +it, and let it freeze, and throw snow on. Now ’t is moonshiny nights, +the teacher lets all the “perfects” go out to coast an hour. Sometimes I +get out. And guess where Bubby Short and Dorry and I are going to-night! +Now you can’t guess, I know you can’t. To a party! Now where do you +suppose the party is to be? You can’t guess that either. In this town. +And not very far from this school-house. Somebody you’ve heard of. Two +somebodies you’ve heard of. Now don’t you know? The Two Betseys! Suppose +you’ll think ’t is funny for them to have a party. But they’re not a +going to have it themselves. Now I’ll tell you, and not make you guess +any more. + +You know I told you Tom Cush was coming. He came to-day. He’s grown just +as tall and as fat and as black and has some small whiskers. I didn’t +know ’twas Tom Cush when I first looked at him. Bubby Short asked me +what man that was talking with Dorry, and I said I didn’t know, but +afterwards we found out. He didn’t know me either. Says I’m a staving +great fellow. He gave Dorry a ruler made of twelve different kinds of +wood, some light, some dark, brought from famous places. And gave Bubby +Short and me a four-blader, white handled. He’s got a fur cap and fur +gloves, and is ’most as tall as Uncle Jacob. He told Dorry that he +thought if he didn’t come back here and see everybody, he should feel +like a sneak all the rest of his life. + +We three went down to The Two Betseys’ Shop with him, and when he saw +it, he said, “Why, is that the same old shop? It don’t look much bigger +than a hen-house!” Says he could put about a thousand like it into one +big church he saw away. Said he shouldn’t dare to climb up into the +apple-tree for fear he should break it down. Said he’d seen trees high +as a liberty-pole. And when he saw where he used to creep through the +rails he couldn’t believe he ever did go through such a little place, +and tried to, but couldn’t do it. So he took a run and jumped over, and +we after him, all but Bubby Short. We took down the top one for him. + +[Illustration] + +The Two Betseys didn’t know him at first, not till we told them. Dorry +said, “Here’s a little boy wants to buy a stick of candy.” Then Tom +said he guessed he’d take the whole bottle full. And he took out a +silver half a dollar, and threw it down, but wouldn’t take any change +back, and then treated us all, and a lot of little chaps that stood +there staring. Lame Betsey said, “Wal, I never!” and The Other Betsey +said, “Now did you ever? Now who’d believe ’t was the same boy!” And Tom +said he hoped ’t wasn’t exactly, for he didn’t think much of that Tom +Cush that used to be round here. Coming back he told us he was going to +stay till in the evening, and have a supper at the Two Betseys’, us four +together, but not let them know till we got there. He’s going to carry +the things. We went to see Gapper Sky Blue, and Tom bought every bit of +his molasses candy, and about all the seed-cakes. When I write another +letter, then you’ll know about the party. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Do you think my father would let me go to sea? + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +We had it and they didn’t know anything about it till we got there, and +then they didn’t know what we came for. Guess who was there besides us +four! Gapper Sky Blue and little Rosy. Tom invited them. We left the +bundles inside and walked in. Not to the shop, but to the room back, +where they stay. They told us, “Do sit up to the fire, for ’t is a +proper cold day.” They’d got their tea a warming in a little round +tea-pot, a black one, and their dishes on a little round table, pulled +up close to Lame Betsey; seemed just like my sister, when she has +company, playing supper. The Other Betsey, she was holding a skein of +yarn for Lame Betsey to wind, and said their yarn-winders were come +apart. Dorry said, “Billy, let’s you and I make some yarn-winders!” Now +what do you think we made them out of? Out of ourselves! We stood back +to back, with our elbows touching our sides, and our arms sticking out, +and our thumbs sticking up. Then Dorry told her to put on her yarn, and +we turned ourselves round, like yarn-winders. + +Pretty soon Gapper Sky Blue and Rosy came. Then we brought in the +bundles and let ’em know what was up, and they didn’t know what to say. +All they could say was, “Wal, I never!” and “Now did you ever?” + +The Other Betsey said if they were having a party they must smart +themselves up some. So she got out their other caps, with white ruffles, +and put on her handkerchief with a bunch of flowers in the back corner, +but put a black silk cape on Lame Betsey that had a muslin ruffle round +it, or lace, or I don’t know what, and a clean collar, that she worked +herself, when she was a young lady, and a bow of ribbon, that she used +to wear to parties, wide ribbon, striped, green and yellow, or pink, I +can’t tell, and both of ’em clean aprons, figured aprons,--calico, I +think like enough,--with the creases all in ’em, and strings tied in +front. I tell you if the Two Betseys didn’t look tiptop! Then they unset +that little round table, and we dragged out the great big one, that +hadn’t been used for seventeen years. The Other Betsey’s grandfather had +it, when he was first married. When ’t isn’t a table, ’t is tipped up to +make into a chair, and had more legs than a spider. Little Rosy helped +set the table. She never went to a party before. + +O, but you ought to ’ve seen the plates! You know your pie-plates? Well, +these were just like them. All white, with scalloped edges, blue +scalloped edges. Only no bigger round than the top of your tin dipper. +The knives and forks--two-prongers--had green handles. And the +sugar-bowl and cream pitcher were dark blue. Tom brought a good deal of +sugar, all in white lumps, and a can of milk. He bought pies and jumbles +and turnovers and ginger-snaps and egg-crackers and cake and bread at +the bake-house, and butter and cheese and Bologna sausage--I can’t bear +Bologna sausage--and some oranges, that he brought home from sea. And +the sweetest jelly you ever saw! Don’t know what ’t is made of, but they +call it guava jelly, and comes in little boxes. I believe I could eat +twenty boxes of that kind of jelly, if I could get it. Dorry says he +don’t doubt they make it out of apple-parings down in Jersey. + +The Other Betsey stood up in a chair and took down her best china cups +and saucers, that used to be her grandmother’s, and hadn’t been took +down for a good many years, and wiped the dust off. Little mites of +things, with pictures on them. We boys didn’t drink tea, only Tom Cush; +we had milk in mugs. Mine was a tall, slim one, not much bigger round +than an inkstand, and had pine-trees on it, blue pine-trees. Dorry had a +china one that was about as clear as glass, that Lame Betsey’s brother +brought home when he went captain, and Bubby Short’s had “A gift of +affection” on it. That was one her little niece used to drink out of +that died afterwards, when she was very little. + +I tell you if that supper-table didn’t look like a supper-table when ’t +was all ready! They set Lame Betsey at the head of the table, because +she couldn’t get up, and Dorry said the one at the head must never get +up, for it wasn’t polite. We took her right up in her chair to set her +there. Then there was some fun quarrelling which should sit at her right +hand, because that is a seat of honor. Tom said Gapper ought to, for he +was the oldest. But he said it ought to be Tom, because he was the most +like company. But at last she said ’t wouldn’t make any difference, +because she was left-handed. The Other Betsey brought some twisted +doughnuts out. + +Now I’ll tell you how we sat. + +Lame Betsey at the head, and the Other Betsey at the other end; Gapper +Sky Blue and Rosy and Bubby Short on the right side, and Tom and Dorry +and I on the left. And if we didn’t have a bully time! The Two Betseys +and Gapper used to know each other, and to go to school together, and +they told such funny stories, made us die a laughing, and when I get +home you’ll hear some. Then Gapper told Tom Cush that now he was a +sailor he ought to spin us a yarn. When I come home I’ll tell you the +yarn Tom spun. ’T was all about an alligator he saw, and about going +near it in a boat, and what the Arabs did, and what he did, and what the +alligator did. Wait till I come, then you’ll hear about it. Both Betseys +kept putting down their knife and fork, and looking up at him, just as +scared, and kept saying, “Wal, I never!” “Now did you ever!” + +Tom acted it all out. First he cleared a place for a river. Then he took +a twisted doughnut for the alligator and a ginger-snap for a boat. I’ll +tell you about it sometime. Guess ’t wasn’t all true, for you can put +anything you’ve a mind to in a yarn. He told us about the beautiful +birds, and when I told him about one my sister used to have, he said +he’d bring her home a Java sparrow. + +Then he told us about drinking “Hopshe!” I’ll tell how, and I want all +of you to try it. + +Now suppose Hannah Jane was the one to try it. + +First, she takes a tumbler of water in her hand, then you all say +together, Hannah Jane and all, quite fast,-- + + “A blackbird sat on a swinging limb. + He looked at me and I at him. + Once so merrily,--Hopshe! + Twice so merrily,--Hopshe! + Thrice so merrily,--Hopshe!” + +Now I shall tell where the fun comes in. + +While all the rest say, “Once so merrily,” Hannah Jane must drink one +swallow quick enough to say the “Hopshe!” with them. Then another +swallow while they say, “Twice so merrily,” and another while they say, +“Thrice so merrily,” and be ready to say the “Hopshe” with them, every +time. We tried it, and I tell you if the “Hopshe’s” didn’t come in all +sorts of funny ways! The Two Betseys told about some funny tricks they +used to try, to see who was going to be their beau. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I saw a dollar bill in Gapper Sky Blue’s hand after Tom Cush bade +him good by. Dorry says how do I know but ’t was more than a dollar +bill, and I don’t. + +W. H. + +There was a good deal left for the Two Betseys to eat afterwards. I had +a letter from Mr. Fry. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR AUNT,-- + +There is going to be a dancing-school, and Dorry’s mother wants him to +go, and he says he guesses he shall, so he may know what to do when he +goes to parties, and his cousin Arthur, that doesn’t go to this school, +says ’t is bully when you’ve learned how. Please ask my grandmother if I +may go if I want to. Dorry wants me to if he does, he says, and Bubby +Short says he means to too, if we two do, if his mother’ll let him. +Dorry’s mother says we shall get very good manners there, and learn how +to walk into a room. I know how now to walk into a room, I told him, +walk right in. But he says his mother means to _enter_ a room, and +there’s more to it than walking right in. He don’t mean an empty room, +but company and all that. I guess I should be scared to go, the first of +it; I guess I should be bashful, but Dorry’s cousin says you get over +that when you’re used to it. Good many fellers are going. Mr. Augustus, +and Old Wonder Boy, and Mr. O’Shirk. Now I suppose you can’t think who +that is! Don’t you know that one I wrote about, that kicked and didn’t +pay, and that wouldn’t help water the course? The great boys picked out +that name for him, Mr. O’Shirk. The O stands for owe, and Shirk stands +for itself. I send home a map to my grandmother, I’ve just been making, +and I tried hard as I could to do it right, and I hope she will excuse +mistakes, for I never made one before. ’T is the United States. Old +Wonder Boy says he should thought I’d stretched out “Yankee Land” a +little bigger. He calls the New England States “Yankee Land.” And he +says they make a mighty poor show on the map. But Mr. Augustus told him +the brains of the whole country were kept in a little place up top, same +as in folks. So W. B. kept still till next time. Dorry said he’d heard +of folks going out of the world into Jersey. If I go to dancing-school, +I should like to have a bosom shirt, and quite a stylish bow. I think +I’m big enough, don’t you, for bosom shirts? I had perfect this forenoon +in all. I’ve lost that pair of spotted mittens, and I don’t know where, +I’m sure. I know I put them in my pocket. My hands get just as numb now +with cold! Seems as if things in my pockets got alive and jumped out. I +was clapping ’em and blowing ’em this morning, and that good, tiptop +Wedding Cake teacher told me to come in his house, and his wife found +some old gloves of his. I never saw a better lady than she is. When she +meets us she smiles and says, “How do you do, William Henry?” or Dorry, +or whatever boy it is. And when W. B. was sick one day she took care of +him. And she asks us to call and see her, and says she likes boys! Dorry +says he’s willing to wipe his feet till he wears a hole in the mat, +before he goes in her house. For she don’t keep eying your boots. Says +he has seen women brush up a feller’s mud right before his face and +eyes. My hair grows darker colored now. And my freckles have ’most faded +out the color of my face. I’m glad of it. + +From your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_Aunt Phebe to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BILLY,-- + +We are very much pleased indeed with your map. Dear me, how the United +States have altered since they were young, same as the rest of us! That +western part used to be all Territory. You couldn’t have done anything +to please your grandmother better. She’s hung it up in the front room, +between Napoleon and the Mourning Piece, and thinks everything of it. +Everybody that comes in she says, “Should you like to see the map my +little grandson made,--my little Billy?” You’ll always be her little +Billy. She don’t seem to think you are growing up so fast. Then she +throws a shawl over her head, and trots across the entry and opens the +shutters, and then she’ll say, “Pretty good for a little boy.” And +tells which is Maine, and which is New York, and points out the little +arrow and the printed capital letters. Folks admire fast as they can, +for that room is cold as a barn, winters. The last one she took in was +the minister. Your grandmother sets a sight o’ store by you. She’s proud +of you, Billy, and you must always act so as to give her reason to be, +and never bring her pride to shame. + +We are willing you should go. At first she was rather against it, though +she says she always meant you should learn to take the steps when you +got old enough, but she was afraid it might tend to making you +light-headed, and to unsteady your mind. This was the other night when +we were talking it over in your kitchen, sitting round the fire. Somehow +we get in there about every evening. Does seem so good to see the blaze. +Your father said if a boy had common sense he’d keep his balance +anywhere, and if dancing-school could spoil a fellow, he wasn’t worth +spoiling, worth keeping, I mean. I said I thought it might tend to keep +you from toeing in, and being clumsy in your motions. Your Uncle J. said +he didn’t think ’t was worth while worrying about our Billy getting +spoiled going to dancing-school, or anybody’s Billy, without ’t was some +dandyfied coot. “Make the head right and the heart right,” says he, “and +let the feet go,--if they want to.” So you see, Billy, we expect your +head’s right and your heart’s right. Are they? + +The girls and I have turned to and cut and made you a couple of bosom +shirts and three bows, for of course you will have to dress rather +different, and think a little more about your looks. But not too much, +Billy! Not too much! And don’t for gracious sake ever get the notion +that you’re good-looking! Don’t stick a breastpin in that shirt-bosom +and go about with a strut! I don’t know what I hadn’t as soon see as see +a vain young man. I do believe if I were to look out, and you should be +coming up my front yard gravel path with a strut, or any sort of +dandyfied airs, I should shut the door in your face. Much as I set by +you, I really believe I should. Lor! what are good looks? What are you +laying out to make of yourself? That’s the question. Freckles are not so +bad as vanity. Anybody’d think I was a minister’s wife, the way I talk. +But, Billy, you haven’t got any mother, and I do think so much of you! +’T would break my heart to see you grow up into one of those +spick-and-span fellers, that are all made up of a bow and a scrape and a +genteel smile! Though I don’t think there’s much danger, for common +sense runs in the family. No need to go with muddy boots, though, or +linty, or have your bow upside down. You’ve always been more inclined +that way. Fact is, I want you should be just right. I haven’t a minute’s +more time to write. Your Uncle J. has promised to finish this. + + * * * * * + +DEAR COUSIN BILLY,-- + +This is Lucy Maria writing. The blacksmith sent word he was waiting to +sharpen the colt, and father had to go. He’s glad of it, because he +never likes to write letters. I’m glad you are going to dancing-school. +Learn all the new steps you can, so as to show us how they’re done. +Hannah Jane’s beau has just been here. He lives six miles off, close by +where we went once to a clam-bake, when Dorry was here. Georgiana’s +great doll, Seraphine, is engaged to a young officer across the road. He +was in the war, and draws a pension of a cent a week. The engagement +isn’t out yet, but the family have known it several days, and he has +been invited to tea. He wore his best uniform. Seraphine is invited over +there, and Georgie is making her a spangled dress to wear. The wedding +is to come off next month. I do wish I could think of more news. Father +is the best hand to write news, if you can only get him at it. Once when +I was away, he wrote me a letter and told me what they had for dinner, +and what everybody was doing, and how many kittens the cat had, and how +much the calf weighed, and what Tommy said, and seemed ’most as if I’d +been home and seen them. Be sure and write how you get along at +dancing-school, and what the girls wear. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +MY DEAR AUNT,-- + +Thank you for the bosom shirts and the ones that helped make them. +They’ve come. I like them very much and the bows too. They’re made +right. I lent Bubby Short one bow. His box hadn’t come. He kept running +to the expressman’s about every minute. We began to go last night. If we +miss any questions to-day, we shall have to stay away next night. That’s +going to be the rule. O, you ought to ’ve seen Dorry and me at it with +the soap and towels, getting ready! We scrubbed our faces real bright +and shining, and he said he felt like a walking jack-o’-lantern. I +bought some slippers and had to put some cotton-wool in both the toes of +’em to jam my heels out where they belonged to. I don’t like to wear +slippers. My bosom shirt sets bully, and I bought a linen-finish paper +collar. I haven’t got any breastpin. I don’t think I’m good looking. +Dorry doesn’t either. I know he don’t. That’s girls’ business. We had to +buy some gloves, because his cousin said the girls wore white ones, and +nice things, and ’t wouldn’t do if we didn’t. Yellowish-brownish ones we +got, so as to keep clean longer. But trying on they split in good many +places, our fingers were so damp, washing ’em so long. Lame Betsey is +going to sew the holes up. When we got there we didn’t dare to go in, +first of it, but stood peeking in the door, and by and by Old Wonder Boy +gave me a shove and made me tumble in. I jumped up quick, but there was +a great long row of girls, and they all went, “Tee hee hee! tee hee +hee!” Then Mr. Tornero stamped and put us in the gentlemen’s row. Then +both rows had to stand up and take positions, and put one heel in the +hollow of t’ other foot, and then t’ other heel in that one’s hollow, +and make bows and twist different ways. And right in front was a whole +row of girls, all looking. But they made mistakes theirselves sometimes. + +First thing we learned the graces, and that is to bend way over +sideways, with one hand up in the air, and the other ’most way down to +the floor, then shift about on t’ other tack, then come down on one +knee, with one hand way behind, and the other one reached out ahead as +if ’t was picking up something a good ways off. We have to do these +graces to make us limberer, so to dance easier. I tell you ’t is mighty +tittlish, keeping on one knee and the other toe, and reaching both ways, +and looking up in the air. I did something funny. I’ll tell you, but +don’t tell Grandmother. Of course ’t was bad, I know ’t was, made ’em +all laugh, but I didn’t think of their all pitching over. You see I was +at one end of the row and W. B. was next, and we were fixed all as I +said, kneeling down in that tittlish way, reaching out both ways, before +and behind, and looking up, and I remembered how he shoved me into the +room, and just gave him a little bit of a shove, and he pitched on to +the next one, and he on to the next, and that one on to the next, and so +that whole row went down, just like a row of bricks! Course everybody +laughed, and Mr. Tornero did too, but he soon stamped us still again. +And then just as they all got still again, I kept seeing how they all +went down, and I shut up my mouth, but all of a sudden that laugh shut +up inside made a funny sort of squelching sound, and he looked at me +cross and stamped his foot again. Now I suppose he’ll think I’m a bad +one, just for that tumbling in and shoving that row down and then +laughing when I was trying to keep in! He wants we should practise the +graces between times, to limber us up. Dorry and I do them up in our +room. Guess you’d laugh if you could see, when we do that first part, +bending over sideways, one hand up and one down. I tried to draw us, but +’t is a good deal harder drawing crooked boys than ’t is straight ones, +so ’t isn’t a very good picture. The boys that go keep practising in the +entries and everywhere, and the other ones do it to make fun of us, so +you keep seeing twisted boys everywhere. Bubby Short was kneeling down +out doors across the yard, on one knee, and I thought he was taking aim +at something, but he said he was doing the graces. I must study now. +Bubby Short got punished a real funny way at school to-day. I’ll tell +you next time. I’m in a hurry to study now. + +Your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Dorry’s just come in. He and Bubby Short and I bought “Seraphine” +some wedding presents and he’s done ’em up in cotton-wool, and they’ll +come to her in a pink envelope. Dorry sent that red-stoned ring and I +sent the blue-stoned. We thought they’d do for a doll’s bracelets. Bubby +Short sends the artificial rosebud. He likes flowers,--he keeps a +geranium. We bought the presents at the Two Betseys’ Shop. They said +they’d do for bracelets. Dorry says, “Don’t mention the price, for ’t +isn’t likely everybody can make such dear presents, and might hurt their +feelings.” We tried to make some poetry, but couldn’t think of but two +lines. + + When you’re a gallant soldier’s wife, + May you be happy all your life! + +Dorry says that’s enough, for she couldn’t be any more than happy all +her life. “Can too!” W. B. said. “Can be good!” “O, poh!” Bubby Short +said; “she can’t be happy without she’s good, can she?” But I want to +study my lesson now. + +W. H. + +Those bosom shirts are the best things I ever had. + +W. H. + +Although it would have been a vast sacrifice, I think I would have +almost given my best pair of shoes for a chance of seeing Billy when +dressed to go to the dancing-school. A boy in his first bosom shirt is +such an amusing sight. You can easily pick one out in a crowd by his +satisfied air, and stiff gait; by the setting back of the shoulders, and +the throwing out of the chest,--as if that smooth, white, starched +expanse did not set out enough of itself! Some have a way of looking up +at gentlemen, as much as to say, _We_ wear bosom shirts! But of course +those of us boys and men who have passed through this experience +remember all about it. + + * * * * * + +_Lucy Maria to William Henry._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +That famous wedding came off yesterday afternoon. There were fifteen +invited. I do wish I had time to tell you all about it. Mother made a +real wedding-cake. Georgie has hardly slept a wink for a week, I do +believe, thinking about it. The young soldier wore his epaulets, having +been made General the day before. The bride was dressed in pure white, +of course, with a long veil, of course, too, and orange blossoms, real +orange blossoms that I made myself. The presents were spread out on the +baby-house table. Perhaps you don’t know that Georgie has a baby-house. +It is made of a sugar-box, set up on end papered with housepaper inside, +and brown outside. It has a down below, an up stairs, and garret. I do +wish I had time to tell you all about the wedding, but Matilda’s a +churning, and I promised to part the butter and work it over, if she +would fetch it. I do wish you could hear her singing away,-- + + “Come, butter, come! come, butter, come! + Peter stands at the gate, waiting for his buttered cake. + Come, butter, come!” + +Besides the baby-house table, the presents were laid on the roof of the +baby-house. There were sontags, shoes, hats and feathers, and all sorts +of clothes, the rosebud, your jewelry, and more besides, also spoons, +dishes, gridirons, vases and everything they could possibly want, to +keep house with, even to flatirons and a cooking-stove. The hands of the +happy couple were fastened together, and they stood up (there was a pile +of books behind them). Then the trouble was, who should be the minister? +At last we saw that funny Dicky Willis, your old crony, peeping in the +window, and made him come in and be the minister. He was just the right +one for it. He charged the bridegroom to give his wife everything she +asked for, and keep her in dry kindlings, and let her have her own way, +and always wipe his feet, and not smoke in the house, and never find +fault; and charged her to sew on his buttons, and have plum-pudding +often, and let him smoke in the house, and never want any new clothes, +and always mind her husband, and let him bring in mud on his feet, and +always have a smiling face, even if the baby-house was a burning down +over their heads, and then pronounced them man and wife. I could fill up +half a dozen sheets of paper, if I had time, but I’m afraid of that +butter. Everybody shook hands with them, and kissed them, and the +wedding-cake was passed round, and then the children played + + “Little Sally Waters, sitting in the sun, + Crying and weeping for her lost one.” + +In the midst of everything Tommy came in with Georgiana’s atlas, and +said he’d found “two kick-cases.” He meant those two black hemispheres, +that are pictured out in the beginning. Mother put a raisin in his +mouth, and hushed him up. The happy couple have gone on a wedding tour +to Susie Snow’s grandmother’s _country_ _seat_. It is expected that they +will live half the time with Georgie, and half at the General’s +head-quarters. But their plans may be altered; this is a changing world, +and a young couple can’t always tell what’s before them. I do wish you’d +write how you get on at dancing-school, and what the great girls wear, +about my age. O dear what an age it is! ’T is dreadful to think of! +’Most eighteen! Did you ever hear of anybody being so old? Now truly I’m +’most ashamed to own how old I am. Eighteen next month! Hush, don’t +tell! Keep it private! I do wish I could grow backwards, and grow back +into a baby-house if ’t were nothing but a sugar-box. I do long to cut +my hair off and go in a long-sleeved tier, and I’ve a good mind to. We +don’t think you made a very good beginning. Guess your Mr.--I can’t +think of his name--thought there was need enough of your learning to +enter a room. Mother’s going to put a note in this letter. I’ve made her +promise not to scold you, but she’s got something particular to say. +Father will too. I told him ’t would be just what you would like, one of +his letters. Matilda says the butter has sent word it’s coming. Write +soon. + +From your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + + * * * * * + +I was very sorry not to be able to attend the wedding. My present was +half a dozen holders. The woman with whom I board said I couldn’t give a +bride anything more useful. Her little daughter made them for me, at the +rate of two cents apiece. They were an inch wide, and all had loops at +the corners. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Uncle Jacob._ + +HOW ARE YOU, YOUNG MAN? + +I am very glad you go to dancing-school. Boys, as a general thing, are +too fond of study, and ’t is a good plan to have some contrivance to +take their minds off their books. I suppose you’d like to know what is +going on here at home. Your grandmother sits by the fire knitting some +mittens for you to lose, so be sure you do it. [She says, tell him to be +sure when he goes to dancing-school to wear his overcoat.] Your aunt +Phebe is making jelly tarts. Says I can’t have any till meal-time. [Tell +him to be sure and get cooled off some before he comes away.] Your +grandmother can’t help worrying about that dancing-school. Matilda is +picking over raisins for the pies. She won’t sit very close to me. Now +Tommy has come in, crying with cold hands. Lucy Maria is soaking them in +cold water. I don’t doubt he’ll get a tart. Yes, he has. First he cries, +and then he takes a bite. [Tell him not to go and come in his slippers.] +Aunt Phebe says, “Now there’s William Henry growing up, you ought to +give him some advice.” But I tell her that a boy almost in his teens +knows himself what’s right and what’s wrong. Now Georgiana has come in +crying. Says she stepped her foot through a puddle of ice. Grandmother +has set her up to dry her foot. Now she’ll get a tart, I suppose! Yes +she has. [Tell him to look right at the teacher’s feet.] That’s good +advice if you expect to learn how. Now your aunt says I’m such a good +boy to write letters she’s going to give me this one that’s burnt on the +edge. [Tell him to brush his clothes and not go linty.] More good +advice. I guess now I’ve got the tart I won’t write any more. Of course +we expect you to do just about right. If you neglect your studies and so +waste your father’s money, you’ll be an ungrateful scamp. If you get +into any contemptible mean ways, we shall be ashamed to own you. Do you +mean to do anything or be anything now or ever? If you do, ’t is time +you were thinking about it. + +UNCLE JACOB. + +All between the brackets are messages from your grandmother. + +J. U. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +When you get as far as choosing partners, there’s a word I want to say +to you, though, as you’re a pretty good dispositioned boy, maybe there’s +no need; still you may not always think, so ’twill do no harm to say it. +There are always some girls that don’t dance quite so well, or don’t +look quite so well, or don’t dress quite so well, or are not liked quite +so well, or are not quite so much acquainted. Now I don’t want you to +all the time, but sometimes, say once in an evening, I want you to pick +out one of these for your partner. I know ’t isn’t the way boys do. But +you can. Suppose you don’t have a good time that one dance. You weren’t +sent into the world to have a good time every minute of your life! How +would you like to sit still all the evening? I’ve been spectator at such +times, and I’ve seen how things go on! Why, if boys would be more +thoughtful, every girl might have a good time, besides doing the boys +good to think of something besides their own comfort. If I were you I +wouldn’t try to make fun, but try to learn, for though your father was +willing you should go, and wants to do everything he can for you, he has +to work hard for his money. Lucy Maria is waiting to hear how you get +on. + +Your affectionate + +AUNT PHEBE. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Lucy Maria._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +I was going to write to you before, how I was getting along, but have +had to study very hard. We’ve been five times. The girls wear slippers +and brown boots and other colors, and white dresses and blue and all +kinds, and long ribbons, and a good many pretty girls go. If girls +didn’t go, I should like to go better. I mean till we know how, for I’d +rather make mistakes when only boys were looking. And I make a good +many, because he says I don’t have time and tune. He says my feet come +down sometimes right square athwart the time. So I watched the rest, and +when they put their feet down, I did mine. But that was a stroke too +late, he said. Said “time and tune waits for no man.” I like to +promenade, because a feller can go it some then. We learn all kinds of +waltzes and redowas and polkas. I can polka with one that knows how. +Whirling round makes me light-headed just as Grandmother said. But I get +over it some. We are going to do the German at the last of it. The worst +of it is cutting across the room to get your partners. He calls out when +we’re all standing up in two rows, “First gentleman take the first +lady!” Now, supposing I’m first gentleman, I have to go way across to +first lady with all of ’em looking, and fix my feet right way, one heel +in the other hollow, and then make my bow, and then she has to make that +kind of kneeling-down bow that girls do, and then we wait till all of +’em get across one by one. Then we take the step a little while, and +then launch off round the hall, polking, or else get into quadrilles. +And if we do we make graces to the partners and the corners. I like +quadrilles best, because you can hop round some and have a good time, if +you have a good partner. You can dance good deal better with a good +partner. Last time I had that one the fellers call “real estate,” +because you can’t move her she don’t ever get ready to start, and when +’t is time to turn stands still as a post. + +Dorry and I practise going across after partners, up in our room. You +ought to ’ve seen us yesterday! Dorry was the lady. If he didn’t look +funny! He fixed the table-cloth off the entry table, to make it look +like his mother’s opera-cape, and fastened a great sponge on for a +waterfall, and fizzled out his hair, and had a little tidy on top his +head, and that red bow you sent me right in front of it. Then he stood +out by the window, and kept looking at his opera-cape, and smoothing it +down, and poking his hair, and holding his handkerchief, the way girls +do, and kept whispering, or making believe, to Bubby Short, the way +girls do. Then I went across and made my bow, and he made that +kneeling-down bow, and then we tried to polka redowa, but our boots +tripped us up, and we couldn’t stand up, and laughed so we tumbled down, +and didn’t hear anybody coming till he knocked, and ’t was the teacher, +come to see what the matter was. Not Wedding Cake, but Old Brown Bread, +and he said dancing mustn’t be brought into our studies, and scolded +more, but I saw his eyes laughing, looking at Dorry. One of the boys +tumbled down stairs, doing the graces in the entry, too near the edge, +and it’s forbidden now. Some of the first-class fellers put up a notice +one night in the entry, great printed letters. + +[Illustration: NO ADMITTANCE TO THE GRACES] + +That owl stands for Minerva. I couldn’t make a very good one because I’m +in such a hurry to do my examples. The goddess of wisdom used to be +named Minerva. She was painted with an owl. I’ve been reading it in the +Classical Dictionary. Dorry and Bubby Short and I have just been to the +Two Betseys to get our gloves sewed up, and the Other Betsey said she +used to dance like a top. Then she held her dress up with her thumbs +and fingers, and took four different kinds of balances. Made us die a +laughing, she hopped up and down so. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S That TO isn’t left out in the notice, it’s my own mistake. + + * * * * * + +The remaining letters were probably written during his last term at the +school. + + * * * * * + +_Matilda’s Letter to William Henry._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +Lucy Maria keeps telling me that I promised to write you a letter, but I +wish I hadn’t promised to write you one, because I don’t like to write +letters very well, for I can’t think of anything to write. But Lucy +Maria she likes to, and that would do just as well as for me to. But +mother says I ought to often, so as to get me in the habit of it. I +don’t have very much time to write very long letters, for the girls are +getting up a Fair, and I am helping do the old woman in her shoe, and +gentlemen’s pincushions, and presents for the arrow table, where the +arrow swings round and points to your present, and so I don’t get very +much time between schools. For we have to write compositions every week +now, and all the girls think the teacher is just as mean as he can be to +make us. We want he should take off some of the compositions and put +more on to our other lessons; but no. He thinks ’t is the best thing we +can do. He don’t care about anything else, I believe. Susie Snow says +she believes he’s all made up of composition. Our next subject is +“Economy” and we’ve got to put in time wasted, and health wasted, and +money wasted. Susie Snow is going to put in hers that girls should never +waste their time writing compositions. + +I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in +a sandy desert, I believe. But she don’t have to go to school. Hannah +Jane hasn’t got home from Aunt Matilda’s yet. The minister and his wife +and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond +of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe +brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. ’T is very pleasant +weather. I wish you’d come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are +thick as spatters, and I don’t have much time. The dog stepped on my +sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven’t come up. Father says I better +go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache, +that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that’s in the +Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up +four times, and I’ve brought it in the house and stuck it in a +cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because ’t was used to +pepper at home, but I can’t tell what he means and what he don’t, he +funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to. + +O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But ’t is quite bad news. It +happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us +cried. I couldn’t help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the +one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till ’t was big +enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating +supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy +hadn’t got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was. +Father said he didn’t doubt he’d gone to find his turtle. He had a +turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he’d have to +have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep +things about for him when he don’t come straight home to his meals. He’d +rather play than eat. ’T is only a little school he goes to. Not very +far off. Five scholars, that’s all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell +about our cow. + +We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn’t think what the matter +was. ’T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard, +crying and hollering both together, “Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!” Much +as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what ’t was, for he +knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and +Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow! +She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises, +and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper +in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn’t do anything. + +“Rails! rails!” they all called out, and we pulled them out of the +fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft +she sank in so they couldn’t do anything with her. Much as they could do +to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a rotten rail, and it +broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two +canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to +go get some boards. There weren’t any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade’s +new house, and that was too far off, and father said ’t was too late, +for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. ’Most all the women and +girls came away then, for we couldn’t bear to stay any longer to see her +suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes +looked very mournful. + +In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got +her up, but not soon enough. She’s buried now, under the poplar-tree, in +that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed +to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana +about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn’t the best +breed, but she’s part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not +very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent. +Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart, +that don’t hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to +have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can’t screw her +courage up, and can’t take the time. Your father says he wants to see +her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she +might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy’s trousers, +that would be natural. He’s always making barn-doors in his trousers, +he’s such a climbing fellow. + +L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and father’s going to make +up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told +us about, and I’m going to be a music teacher, I guess. I’m going to +begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a +mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha’ n’t I be glad! But Susie Snow +says I shall sing another tune after I’ve taken a little while. Father +says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to +practise two hours a day. I’d just as soon promise that as not. ’T is +just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house. +Seems if I couldn’t believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew +how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now, +William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as +possible. + +From your affectionate Cousin, + +MATILDA. + +P. S. Cousin Joe has sent me a smelling-bottle, a little gilt one he +brought home, that’s got ninety-four different smells in it. Mother is +writing you a note. She says you can’t dance on her carpet. Father says +he’s sorry he didn’t learn the graces, and means to when you come again. +We can dance in the barn. Tommy has just come in. He says he knows his B +A C’s. He’s a funny boy. He means A B C’s. But he always gets the horse +before the cart. One day we tried to make conundrums, and Georgiana made +this,--see if you can answer it: Which is best, to have plum-cake for +supper and only have a little mite of a piece, or cookies, and have as +many as you want? + +Georgiana’s kitty has just jumped over the fence. She’s after my +morning-glories again. Just as fast as I fasten ’em up, she goes to +playing with the strings and claws ’em down again. Lucy Maria drew a +picture of her doing it. + +M. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Dorry._ + +DEAR WILLIAM HENRY’S GRANDMOTHER,-- + +William Henry wants I should tell you not to be scared when you see +another boy’s handwriting on the back of this letter, and not to think +he’s got cold, or got anything else, like measles, or anything of that +kind, and not to feel worried about his not writing for so long, for he +is all right except the first joint of his forefinger. He crooked that +joint, or else uncrooked it, playing base ball. ’T was a heavy ball and +he took it whole on that joint, and ’t is so stiff he can’t handle a +penholder. He thinks you will all wonder why he doesn’t write, and worry +about his getting sick or something, but he never felt better. Appetite +very good. He has received his cousin Matilda’s letter, and will answer +it when he can. He wants to know what she’d think if she had to write +poetry for composition. Our teacher told us we must each write one verse +about June. I put three of them in for you to see, but don’t put our +names. + + “O I love the verdant June, + When the birds are all in tune, + When the rowers go out to row, + When the mowers go out to mow, + O, sweetly smells the fragrant hay, + As we ride on the load and stow it away.” + + “In June we can sail + In the gentle gale, + On the waters blue, + And catch cod-fish + That make a good dish, + And mackerel too.” + + “In June the summer skies are clear, + And soon green apples do appear. + And though they’re hard and sour, we know + That every day they’ll better grow. + This teaches us that boys, also, + Every day should better grow.” + +P. S. He wants I should tell you ’t is tied up in a rag all right and +don’t hinder his studying. Says he wishes his cousin Lucy Maria would +write him one of her kind of letters, that she knows how to write, and +tell what they are all doing and what they talk about, and when his +finger is well he will answer all the letters they will write to him. + +Very respectfully, + +BILLY’S FRIEND, DORRY. + + * * * * * + +_Aunt Phebe’s Note._ + +MY DEAR BILLY,-- + +Grandmother worries about that finger. Do ask Dorry to write again, or +else take the penholder in your middle one, though we mistrust that’s +damaged, or you’d have written before this. I’ve had my picture taken +and send you one to keep. Look at it often, and if you’ve done anything +wrong, think it shakes its head at you! Little wrong things, or big +ones, all the same. For little wrongs are more dangerous, because we +think they’re of no account. But they show what’s in a person, same as +a little pattern of goods tells what the whole piece is. Show me half an +inch of cotton and I’ll tell you what color the whole spool is. + +I’d no idea of having my picture taken. I was right in the heart of +baking, when your Uncle J. drove up and said he’d harnessed up on +purpose. ’T was all a contrived plan between him and the girls. I saw +them smiling together when Mattie brought out my black alpaca. I thought +the girls seemed mighty ready to take hold and finish up the baking. But +he got caught in his own trap, for Lucy Maria went with us, to make sure +my collar and things looked fit to be taken, and she set her foot down +we shouldn’t leave the saloon till he’d had his, for she was going to +have a locket with us both inside, and I had to be done over small. What +an operation it is to have your picture taken! If we could only take +ether and be carried through! He put my head in a clamp, and crossed my +hands, and pinned up a black rag for me to look at, and told me to look +easy and natural, and smile a very little! I’m sure I tried to, but your +Uncle J. says ’t is a very melancholy face, and Lucy Maria says the +cheek-bones cast a shadow! Your father says the worst of it is, it does +look like me! I think it’s too bad to make fun of it, after all I passed +through! Your Uncle J. took things easy and joked with the man, and was +laughing when the cover was taken off and didn’t dare to unlaugh, he +says, so he came out all right, with a laughing face, as he always is. +The girls want we should be taken large and hang up, side by side, in +two oval frames, over the mantel-piece. But their father says he sha’ +n’t be hung up alive, if he can help himself. + +It isn’t likely I shall write to you again very soon. Cousin Joe and his +accordion are coming, and he’ll bring his sisters, and the young folks +about here know them, and I expect there’ll be nothing but frolicking. +Then there’ll be some of your Uncle J.’s folks after that, so you see +we’ll be all in a hubbub and I shall have to be the very hub of the +hubbub, I suppose. Lucy Maria says, “Tell William Henry to send us a +charade, or something to amuse the company with.” Write when you can. + +With a great deal of love, your affectionate + +AUNT PHEBE. + +P. S. Take good care of your finger. A finger-joint would be a great +loss. I think cold water is as good as anything. Grandmother wishes you +had some of her carrot salve. Let us hear from you in some way. +Grandmother wants to know if the Two Betseys don’t make carrot salve. + + * * * * * + +I must add here that Lucy Maria was not the girl to give up those +pictures in “two oval frames.” For by perseverance, and partly with my +assistance, the thing was secretly managed, and managed so well that +Uncle Jacob actually carried them out home himself, in a bundle to Lucy +Maria, without knowing it! And they now hang in triumph over the +fireplace in the “girls’ chamber.” + + * * * * * + +_Lucy Maria to William Henry._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +’T is a pity about that forefinger. Pray get it well enough to handle a +pen, ’t is so long since you’ve written. So you want home matters +reported. Eatable matters of course will be most interesting. Milk and +butter, plenty. Gingerbread (plain), ditto. Gingerbread (fancy), scarce. +Cookies, quiet. Plum-cake, in demand. Snaps, lively. Brown-bread, firm. +White-bread (sliced), dull. Biscuits (hot), brisk. Custard, unsteady. +Preserves not in the market. + +What do we do, and what do we talk about? Why, we talk about our cousin +William Henry, and what we do can’t be told within the bounds of one +letter. Think of seven cows’ milk to churn into butter, besides a cheese +now and then, and besides working for the extra hands we hire this time +o’ year! I should have written to you before, when we first heard of +your accident, if I could have got the time. Hannah Jane is away, and +we’ve let Mattie go with Susie Snow to Grandma Snow’s again for a few +days. Grandma Snow likes to have Mattie come with Susie, for ’t is +rather a still, dull place. So you must think we are quite lonesome here +now, and we are, especially mother. Father tells her she’d better +advertise for a companion. I’ve a good mind to advertise to be a +companion. What do companions do? The old lady might be cross, or the +old gentleman, but that wouldn’t hurt me, so long as I kept clever +myself. Don’t doubt I’d get fun out of it some way. There’s fun in about +everything I think. + +I’ve been trying to get father and mother to go to Aunt Lucy’s and stay +all night. But father thinks there wouldn’t be anybody to shut the +barn-door, and mother thinks there wouldn’t be anybody to do anything, +though I’ve promised to scald the pans, and do up the starched things, +and keep Tommy out of the sugar-bowl. He takes a lump every chance he +can get. Takes after his father. Father puts sugar on sweetened +puddings, if mother isn’t looking! We’ve made some verses to plague +Tommy, and when Mattie gets her piano, they’re going to be set to music. + +SONG. + +A SWEET TOMMY. + + As turns the needle to the pole, + So Tommy to the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + + Tommy always takes a toll + Going by the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + + Were Tommy blind as any mole, + He’d always find the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + +He’s a funny talking fellow. We took him into town last night, to see +the illumination. This morning we heard him and Frankie Snow telling +Benny Joyce about it. Father and I were listening behind the blinds. +Made father’s eyes twinkle. Don’t you know how they twinkle when he’s +tickled? + +“You didn’t see the _rumination_ and we did!” we heard Tommy say. + +“Rumination? What’s a rumination?” asked Benny. + +“O hoo! hoo!” cried Tommy. “Denno what a rumination is!” + +“Why,” said Frankie, “don’t you know the _publicans_? Wal, that’s it.” + +“O poh!” said Benny. “Publicans and sinners! I knew they’s coming!” + +“And soldiers!” said Frankie. “O my! All a marching together!” + +“O poh!” said Benny. “I see ’em go by. Paint-pots on their heads, and +brushes _in_ ’em! I wasn’t goin’ to chase!” + +“Guess nobody wouldn’t let ye?” said Frankie. + +“Didn’t either!” cried Tommy, “didn’t have paint-pots!” + +“Did!” said Benny. “Guess my great brother knows!” + +“Guess we know,” said Frankie, “when we went!” + +“And the town was all _celebrated_,” said Tommy. And the houses all +_gloomed_ up! And horses! O my! + +“O poh!” said Benny. “When I grow up, I’m goin’ to have a span!” + +If mother does go, she’ll take Tommy, for she wouldn’t sleep a wink away +from him over night. Father pretends he’d go if he had a handsome span. +Says he hasn’t got a horse in the barn good enough to take mother out +riding. When Mammy Sarah was here washing, she told him how he could get +a good span. You know he’s always joking about taking summer boarders. +Says Mammy Sarah, “Now ’t is a wonder to me you don’t do it, for summer +boarders is as good as a gold-mine. Money runs right out of their +pockets, and all you have to do is to catch it.” She says we could make +enough out of a couple of them, in a month’s time, to buy a handsome +span, and she isn’t sure but the harness. + +I think we begin to be a little in earnest about summer boarders. For we +have rooms enough, in both houses together, and milk and vegetables, and +mother’s a splendid cook. Mammy Sarah says, “They ain’t diffikilt, and +after they’ve been in the country couple of weeks, they don’t eat so +very much more than other folks.” + +Father says he wants to take them more for the entertainment than the +money. He wants rich ones, but not the sensible kind, that know money +isn’t the only thing worth having. Says what he wants is that silly, +stuck-up kind, that put on airs, and make fools of themselves, they’d be +so amusing! Thinks the best sort for our use would be specimens that +went up quite sudden from poor to rich, like balloons, all filled with +gas. I believe there’d be lots of fun to be made out of them. I’ve seen +one or two. Gracious! You’d think they weren’t born on the same planet +with poor folks. Mother’d rather have the really well-informed, sensible +kind, that we may learn something from them. A couple of each would be +just the thing. How do you like mother’s picture? We don’t feel at all +satisfied with it. If she could only be taken at home! Then she’d look +natural. Father says the world is going ahead so fast, he believes the +time will come when every family will have its own picture-machine, much +as it has its own frying-pan. Then when folks have on their best +expressions, why, clap it right before them. Then they’ll look homish. +Says what he wants is to have mother’s face when she’s just made a batch +of uncommon light biscuits, or when Tommy’s said something smart. Won’t +there be funny pictures when we can hold up a machine before anybody +any minute, like a frying-pan, and catch faces glad, or mad, or sad, or +any way? I made believe take Tommy’s and then showed them to him on a +piece of paper. Guess I’ll put them in the letter. They’ll do to amuse +you. I draw an hour or so every day. First, I have to make my hour. +Sometimes I have to make more. For I will read a little, if the world +stops because of it. But about the faces. First one is when he was +crying because he couldn’t have sugar on his potatoes. Next one is when +he was spunky at Frankie Snow for bursting his little red balloon. The +pleased-looking face is when father brought him home a little ship all +rigged, and the laughing one is when the cow put her head in the window. +We tell him we’ll have them framed and hung up so he can see just how he +looks. Mother says ’t is all very well to laugh at Tommy, but she +guesses some older ones’ pictures wouldn’t always look smiling and +pleasant, take them the year through! + +[Illustration] + +As soon as your finger is itself again do write, for we miss your +letters. We expect to have gay times here this summer. Company coming, +but we sha’ n’t make company of them. Except to have splendid times. +What shall we do evenings? If you go anywhere where there is anything +going on, do write us about it, so we can go on the same way. When are +you coming? Write me a good long letter when you can. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + +Your father is going to write you a letter. Quite wonderful for him. O +William Henry, you don’t know how much I think of your father, and what +a good man he is! I guess you’d better write to your grandmother before +you do me; she’s so pleased to have you write to her. + +Father wants to know when that ball hit you if you _bawled_. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Maria’s “picture-taker” made a great deal of fun for them, and +possibly did some good. She constructed a queer long-handled affair, +and, at the most unexpected moments, this would be thrust before the +faces of different members of the family, more especially Tommy, +Matilda, or Georgiana, and their “pictures” would be sure to appear to +them soon after, “glad, or mad, or sad, or any way.” + +And the plan of “summer boarders” also furnished entertainment. The talk +on this subject was quite amusing, particularly when it touched the +subject of “advertising.” Lucy Maria suggested this ending:-- + +“None but the silly, or the really well-informed need apply.” But Mr. +Carver thought such a notice would fail of bringing a single boarder. +For silly people did not know they were silly, and the really +well-informed were the very last ones to think themselves so. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR AUNT PHEBE,-- + +I thank you for taking your time to write to me, when you have so much +work to do. My forefinger has about recovered the use of itself. The +middle one did go lame a spell, but now ’t is very well, I thank you. +Mrs. Wedding Cake did them up for me. I think she’s a very kind woman. +Dorry says he’d put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes, or lay +down his life, if she wanted him to, or anything else, for the only +woman he knows that will smile on boys’ mud and on boys’ noise. + +Ten of us went on an excursion with the teacher, half-price, to Boston, +and had a long ride in the cars, over forty miles. We went everywhere, +and saw lots of things. Went into the Natural History building. You can +go in for nothing. You stand on the floor, at the bottom and look way up +to the top. All round inside are galleries running round, with alcoves +letting out of them, where they keep all sorts of unknown beasts and +birds and bugs and snakes. Some of those great birds are regular +smashers! ’Most dazzles your eyes to look at their feathers, they’re +such bright red! I’d just give a guess how tall they were, but don’t +believe I’d come within a foot or two. Also butterflies of every kind, +besides skeletons of monkeys and children and minerals and all kinds of +grasses and seeds, and nuts there such as you never cracked or thought +of! They are there because they are seeds, not because they are nuts. +And there’s a cast of a great ugly monster, big as several elephants, +that used to walk round the earth before any men lived in it. If he +wasn’t a ripper! Could leave his hind feet on the ground and put his +fore paws up in the trees and eat the tops off! They call him a +Megotharium! I hope he’s spelt right, though he ought not to expect it, +and I don’t know as it makes much difference, seeing he lived thousands +of years before the flood, and lucky he did, Dorry says, for the old ark +couldn’t have floated with many of that sort aboard. He wasn’t named +till long after he was dead and buried. Patient waiter is no loser, +Dorry says, for he’s got more name than the ones that live now, and is +taken more notice of. We saw a cannon-ball on the side of Brattle Street +Church, where ’t was fired in the Revolution, and we went to the top of +the State House. Made our knees ache going up so many steps, but it +pays. For you can look all over the harbor, and all round the country, +and see the white towns, and steeples, for miles and miles. Boston was +built on three hills and the State House is on one of them. I can’t +write any more, now. + +W. B. has left school, because his father got a place for him in New +York. His father thought he was old enough to begin. He’s a good deal +older than I am. + +From your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +[Illustration] + +How do you like this picture of that great Mego--I won’t try to spell +him again--eating off the tree-tops? The leaves on the trees then were +different from the ones we have now. Dorry made the leaves, and I made +the creature. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter to William Henry from his Father._ + +MY DEAR SON,-- + +Perhaps you have thought that because I am rather a silent man, and do +not very often write you a letter, that I have not very much feeling and +do not take interest in you. But no one knows how closely I am watching +my boy as Time is bringing him up from boyhood to manhood. + +Sometimes your grandmother worries about your being where there may be +bad boys; but I tell her that among so many there must be both good and +bad, and if you choose the bad you show very poor judgment. I think if a +boy picks out bad companions it shows there is something bad in himself. + +She says I ought to keep giving you good advice, now you are just +starting in life, and charge you to be honest and truthful and so forth. +I tell her that would be something as it would be if you were just +starting on a pleasant journey, and I should say, “Now, William Henry, +don’t put out your own eyes at the beginning, or cut the cords of your +legs!” Do you see what I mean? A boy that is _not_ honest and truthful +puts out his own eyes and cripples himself at the very beginning. + +There is a good deal said about arriving at honor and distinction. I +don’t want you to think about _arriving_ at honor. I want you to take +honor to start with. And as for distinction, a man, in the long run, is +never distinguished for anything but what he really is. So make up your +mind just what you want to pass for, and be it. For you will pass for +what you are, not what you try to appear. Go into the woods and see how +easily you can tell one tree from another. You see oak leaves on one, +and you know that is oak all the way through. You see pine needles on +another, and you know that is pine all the way through. A pine-tree may +want to look like an oak, and try to look like an oak, and think it does +look like an oak, as it can’t see itself. But nobody is cheated. So a +rascally fellow may want to appear fair and honest, and try to appear +fair and honest, and think he does appear fair and honest, as he can’t +see himself. But, in the long run, nobody is cheated. For you can read a +man’s character about as easy as you can the leaves on the trees. +Sometimes I sit down in a grocery store and hear the neighbors talked +about, and ’t is curious to find how well everybody is known. It seems +as if every man walked round, labelled, as you may say, same as preserve +jars are labelled, currant, quince, &c. Only he don’t know what his +label is. Just as likely as not a man may think his label is Quince +Marmelade, when ’t is only Pickled String Beans! + +Just so with boys. Grown folks notice boys a great deal, though when I +was a boy, I never knew they did. The little affairs of play-time and +school-time, and their home-ways are all talked over, and by the time a +boy is twelve years old, it is pretty well known what sort of a man he +will make. + +Now don’t mistake my meaning. I don’t want you to be true because +people will know it if you are not, but because it is right and noble to +be so. I want you to be able to respect yourself. Never do anything that +you like yourself any the less for doing. + +A boy of your age is old enough to be looking ahead some, to see what he +is aiming at. I don’t suppose you want to drift, like the sea-weed, that +lodges wherever the waves toss it up! Set up your mark, and a good high +one. And be sure and remember that, as a general thing, there is no such +thing as luck. If a man seems to be a lucky merchant, or lawyer, or +anything else, ’t is because he has the talent, the industry, the +determined will, that make him so. People see the luck, but they don’t +always see the “taking pains” that’s behind it. I remember you wrote us +a letter once, and spoke of a nice house, with nice things inside, that +you meant to have by “trying hard enough.” There’s a good deal in that. +We’ve got to try hard, and try long, and try often, and try again, and +keep trying. That house never’ll come down to you. You’ve got to climb +up to it, step by step. I don’t know as I have anything to say about the +folly of riches. On the contrary, I think ’t is a very good plan to have +money enough to buy books and other things worth having. I don’t see why +a man can’t be getting knowledge and growing better, at the same time he +is growing richer. Some poor folks have a prejudice against rich folks. +I haven’t any. Rich people have follies, but poor people copy them if +they can. That is to say, we often see poor people making as big fools +of themselves as they can, with the means they have. Money won’t hurt +you, Billy, so long as you keep common sense and a true heart. + +We are all watching you and thinking of you, here at home. If you +_should_ go wrong ’t would be a sad blow for both families. Perhaps I +ought to tell you how I feel towards you, and how, ever since your +mother’s death, my heart has been bound up in you and Georgie. You would +then know what a crushing thing it would be to me if you were found +wanting in principle. But I am not very good, either at talking or +writing, so do remember, dear boy, that even when I don’t say a word, +I’m thinking about you and loving you always. God bless you! + +From your affectionate + +FATHER. + +W. B., it seems, from his own account, set sail on the great sea of +commerce with flying colors, and favorable winds,--probably the +Trade-winds. + + * * * * * + +_Old Wonder Boy to William Henry._ + +DEAR FRIEND,-- + +I like my place, and think it is a very excellent one. It is “Veazey & +Summ’s.” When you get a place it is my advice that you should procure +one in New York, as New York is greatly superior to Boston. Boston is a +one-horse place. I wouldn’t be seen riding in that slow coach. +Washington Street could be put whole into Broadway, and not know it was +there hardly, for you could travel both sides and all round it. Our +store is a very excellent store. Some consider it greatly superior to +Stewart’s. All our clerks dress in very superior style and go in very +good society, and so I learn to use very good language. We keep boys to +do the errands, and porters. All the stylish people do their trading +here. The young ladies like to trade with me very much. The New York +ladies are greatly superior to any other ladies. The firm think a great +deal of me, so I expect to be promoted quite fast. I am learning to +smoke. I have got a very handsome pipe. The head clerk thinks it has got +a very superior finish to it. We two are quite thick. How are all the +fellers? Write soon. Remember me to all inquiring friends, and excuse +handwriting. + +Your friend, + +WALTER BRIESDEN. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Matilda._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +Now I’m going to answer your letter, and then I sha’ n’t have to think +about it any longer. I was sorry to hear about poor Reddie. But if it +had been Tommy, then it would have been a great deal worse. Think of +that. Dorry and I have been wishing ’most a week about something, and +now I’ll tell you what ’t is about. About a party. ’T is going to be at +Colonel Grey’s. He lives in a large light-colored brick house, with a +piazza round it, and a fountain, and bronze dogs, and everything lovely. +It is Maud Grey’s birthday party. Sixteen years old. Old and young are +going to be invited, because her little sister’s birthday comes next day +to hers. Now sometimes when there’s a party some of the biggest of our +fellows get invited, because there are not very many young gentlemen in +town, and they are glad to take some from the school. But we two never +have yet. But Dorry thinks we stand a better chance now, for we’ve been +to dancing-school, and will do to fill up sets with. Maud Grey didn’t +go as a scholar, but she went spectator sometimes, and took my partner’s +place once, when her string of beads broke. Dorry was in the same set. I +never polkaed better in my life, for she took me round and made me keep +time whether I wanted to or not, but I told Dorry I felt just like a +little boy that had been lifted over a puddle. He’s afraid she won’t +remember us, but I guess I’m afraid she will, and then won’t invite such +a bad dancer. We two thought we’d walk by the house, just for fun, and +make ourselves look tall. So we held up our chins, and swung two little +canes we’d cut, going along, for small chaps are plenty enough, but +young gentlemen go off to college, or stores, soon’s they’re of any +size. The blinds were all shut up, but Dorry said there was hope if the +slats were turned the right way. Blind slats here move all ways. +Yesterday, in school-time, I saw a colored man coming towards the +school-house, and thought ’t was Cicero, the one that works for Colonel +Grey, coming with the invitations, and made a loud “hem!” for Dorry to +look up, and a hiss, to mean Cicero, and pointed out doors. ’t wasn’t +very loud, but that one we call Brown Bread, that has eyes in the back +of his head, and ears all over him, and smells rat where there isn’t +any, and wears slippers, so you can’t hear him, even if ’tis still +enough to drop a pin,--I thought he was over the other side of the room, +tending to his own affairs, but all of a sudden he was standing just +back of me, and I had to lose a recess just for that. And ’t wasn’t +Cicero after all, but the one that comes after the leavings.--(Somebody +knocks.) + +_Afternoon._--Hurrah! We’re going! The one that knocked at the door was +Spicey, with our invitations. When I come home I’ll bring them home to +show. They came through the post-office. We expect they all came to the +professor, with orders to pick out the ten tallest ones, for they are +directed in his writing. I never went to such a party, and shouldn’t +know how to behave, if ’t wasn’t for Dorry. First thing you do is to go +up and speak to the lady of the house and the lady of the party. I mean +after you’ve been up stairs, and looked in the looking-glass and +smoothed down your hair. Mine always comes up again. I’ve tried water +and I’ve tried oil, and I’ve tried beef-marrow, but ’t is bound to come +up. Dorry says I ought to put it in a net. Don’t you remember that time +I had my head shaved off close, and how it looked like an orange? I’m +glad ’t isn’t so red as it was. ’T is considerable dark now. When you +come down you walk up to the lady of the house and say “How do you do?” +and shake hands, and when you go home you have to bid her good-night, +and say you’ve had a very pleasant time, and shake hands again. Not +shove out your fist, as if you were shoving a croquet-ball, but slow, +with the fingers about straight, and not speak it out blunt, as if you +were singing out “good-night!” to the fellers, but quite softly and +smiling. Dorry’s been showing me beforehand. Bubby Short stood up in the +floor, and had the bedspread tied round him with a cod-line, for a +trail, and shavings for curls. He was the lady of the house and we +walked up to him, and said, “How do you do, Mrs. Grey?” and so forth. +Dorry drew this picture of us. He draws better than I do. I will write +about the party. + +[Illustration] + +From your Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Now if you will be a good little grandmother, and promise never to worry +any more, then I’ll tell you about that party. We had to wear white +gloves. I’ll begin at the outside. The piazzas had colored lights +hanging round them, and there were colored lights hung in the trees and +the gateways. ’T was a foggy night, and those colored lights lighted up +the fog all around, so when you came towards the place it looked just +like a great bright spot in the midst of darkness. There was a tall +lady, standing in the middle of the room, with a splendid dress on, +dragging way behind her, and I went right up to her, and just got my +foot the way Mr. Tornero told us, and the palm of my hand right, when +Dorry jerked me back by my jacket and said she wasn’t the right one. +You see we got belated, going back after our clean pocket-handkerchiefs, +and hurried so that Dorry fell down and muddied his trousers’ knees, but +lucky ’t was close to the Two Betseys’ shop, for we went in there and +got sponged up, but we had to wait for ’em to dry. Lame Betsey said she +used to take care of Maud Grey when she was a little scrap, and she +wanted to make her a birthday present. So they both hunted round, to see +if they had anything. In the desk they found a little thin book, a +funny-looking old blue-covered book, “Advice to a Young Lady,” that was +given to Lame Betsey when she was young. The title was on the blue +cover. ’T was a funny-looking thing and it smelt snuffy. She asked me to +give it to Maud, after she’d written her name in it. I tell you now Lame +Betsey makes quite good letters! I didn’t want to take the book, but I +did, for both Betseys are clever women. + +[Illustration] + +All this was the reason we got belated, and Mrs. Grey had got mixed up +with the other people, but we found her and did the right thing by her. +And Maud too. I don’t think any of you would believe that I could +behave so well! so polite I mean. Course I didn’t feel bashful any! O +no! + +They had four pieces, and they played as if they knew how. I didn’t +dance at the first of it. Didn’t dare to. ’T was too light there. The +carpets were covered with white. Then chandeliers, and lamps, and wax +candles, and flowers everywhere they could be, set up in vases,--one +lady called vases, varzes,--and hanging-baskets. I never was in such a +beautiful place. The ladies sang at the piano, and the young gentlemen +turned their leaves over. O you ought to ’ve heard ’em when the tunes +went up, up, up! Enough to make you catch your breath! Seemed as if it +could never get down again. I don’t like that kind. But Dorry said ’twas +opera style and nobody was to blame but me, if I didn’t like it. Now +John Brown’s Body, I like that, and when they all sang that, I joined +right in, same as any of them. For I knew I knew that tune. But first +one looked round at me, and then another looked round at me, as if +something was the matter. I thought I saw ’em smiling. Then I kept +still. But I didn’t know I was singing wrong. O, I do wish I knew what +this singing is! Seems easy enough. Now when the tune goes up loud, I go +up loud, and when that goes down low, I go down low. But Dorry says it +isn’t singing. Says ’tis discord. But I can’t tell discord from any +other cord, and he says the harder I try, the worse noise I make. I do +wish I could roar out that Glory Hallelujah! for I feel the tune inside +of me, but it never comes out right. Dorry laughs when I set out to +sing. He says I chase the tune up and down all the way through, and +never hit it! Now, if ’t is right inside, why can’t it come out right? I +don’t see! + +We went into a large room to eat refreshments, and I wish Aunt Phebe +could see the things we had. And taste of them too. I saved the frosting +off my cake for Tommy. ’T is wrapped up in a paper in my trunk. ’T is +different from your frosting, good deal harder. I had a sort of funny +time in that room. Somebody had to hit my elbow when I was passing +custard to a girl, and joggled over a mess of it on to her white dress +and my trousers. I whipped out my pocket-handkerchief to sop it up, and +whipped out that little blue book. Somebody picked it up, and one young +man, that had been cutting up all the evening, Maud Grey’s cousin, he +got hold of it and read her name and called out to her to come get her +present, and made a good deal of fun about it, and began to read it +loud. She wanted to know who brought it, and somebody told her I was the +one. I began to grow red as fire, but all of a sudden I thought, Now, +Billy, what’s the use? So I said very plain, “Miss Grey, Lame Betsey +sent you that book.” She didn’t laugh very much, only smiled and asked +me to tell Lame Betsey she was glad that she remembered her. Guess she +thought I looked bashful, for afterwards she asked me if I wouldn’t try +a polka with her. I don’t think she’s very proud, for when I was looking +at a painted vase, she came and told me how it was done, for all I +wasn’t much acquainted with her. She talked to me as easy and sociable +as if she’d been Lucy Maria. + +A company of us got together in one of the rooms and ate our ice-creams +there, and while we were eating them, we beheaded words. Lucy Maria must +read this letter, for she’ll want to know how. When you behead a word +you take off the first letter. It’s fun, when you get beheading them +fast. The spelling mustn’t be changed. Dorry made some of these. I +didn’t. I couldn’t think fast enough. + +Behead an article of dress, and you leave a farming tool. + +Shoe--hoe. + +I’ll put the rest of the answers at the bottom, so as to give all of you +a chance to guess what they are. + +1. Behead what leads men to fight, and you leave the cause of much +misery, sin, and death. + +2. Behead what young ladies are said to be fond of, and you leave a +young lady. + +3. Behead what comes nearest the hand, and you leave what comes nearest +the heart. + +4. Behead something sweet, and it leaves an address to the sweet. + +5. Behead part of a coach, and you leave part of yourself. Behead that, +and you leave a fish. + +6. Behead a rogue, and you leave a musician. + +7. Behead an old-fashioned occupation, and you leave what prevents many +a parting. + +8. Behead a part of ladies’ apparel, and you leave what is higher than +the king. + +9. Behead what always comes hard, and you leave what makes things go +easy. + +10. Behead a weapon, and you leave a fruit. Behead that, and you leave +part of the body. + + 1. Drum, rum. + 2. Glass, lass. + 3. Glove, love. + 4. Molasses, O Lasses! + 5. Wheel, heel, eel. + 6. Sharper, harper. + 7. Spin, pin. + 8. Lace, ace. + 9. Toil, oil. + 10. Spear, pear, ear. + +Sometimes they make them in rhyme. + + Behead what is born in the fire, + And lives but a moment or so,-- + For it can’t live long you know,-- + And you leave what all admire. + Where grass so green doth grow, + And trees in many a row. + Behead this last, and you leave in its place + What once preserved the human race. + +Spark, park, ark. + + Behead a musical term so sweet, + And you leave what runs without any feet. + Behead again, and, sad to tell, + You leave what is sick and never gets well. + To what is left add the letter D, + And you have a lawyer of high degree. + +Trill, rill, ill, “LL D.” + +I’ve got something a good deal funnier to tell, but I’m going to write +all about that in Lucy Maria’s letter. I guess she’ll be very glad when +she gets that letter, for ’twill tell her how to do something very +funny. I will send her the story of it too, so she won’t have to make up +anything herself. Don’t you think I had a pretty good time? I hope my +sister is well, and hope you all are. Lucy Maria must read this letter. +She could make those beheadings quicker’n lightning. I am well. Don’t +believe I shall ever be sick. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I’ve been to a lecture on good health. The man said there were two +parts to the air, a good part and a poison part, and every time we +breathe we keep in the good part, and breathe out the poison part. So if +a room were sealed up, air-tight, a man living in it would soon die, for +he would use up all the good part and leave the poison part. So we ought +to always let fresh air in, that hasn’t been breathed. He says in a +crowded room, if there is no fresh air coming in, we have to use over +what other folks have breathed, whether they are sick or well. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +What with our young friend’s frequent visits to the Two Betseys, his +attendance at the dancing-school, and going to parties and to lectures, +it would seem as though his time was not wholly taken up with his +studies. Among William Henry’s letters to Lucy Maria I find the +following one about the Dwarf, and with it, in Lucy Maria’s handwriting, +I find a copy of the Narrative alluded to. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Lucy Maria._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +I guess you will want to know how this was done, that I’m going to write +about, so I will tell you about it, then you will know how to make one +out of Tommy, but I guess a bigger boy would be better. It doesn’t make +much difference about the size, if he can keep a sober face while +somebody tells a story about him, and do the things he’s told to. I +couldn’t guess how ’t was done till Bubby Short told me. Bubby Short was +the dwarf. He was invited on purpose, because he is up to all kinds of +fun, and can act dialogues, be an old man, or old woman, or anything you +want him to. I will tell you exactly how ’t was done, so you will know. +And I will send you the Narrative to copy. But you can’t keep it very +long. It was given to Bubby Short. The showman was Maud Grey’s cousin. +He was dressed in a turban, with long robes, and he had black rings made +round his eyes, and his face was tatooed with a lead-pencil. Course he +made up the story and made the pictures to it too. But he pretended he +got them in the dwarf’s country, that was named “Empskutia.” I thought +maybe you’d like to read it, then if you made one you could think of +something to say. ’T was only meant for the little ones, he said, but we +all liked to hear it. No matter if it was nonsense, we didn’t care. Now, +I’ll begin. + +First, they had a table, with a long table-cloth on it that touched the +floor. It must touch the floor, so as to hide the _real_ feet of the one +that’s going to be the dwarf. When Bubby Short was all ready he sat down +to the table, same as if he’d been doing his examples or eating his +dinner,--sat facing the company and waited for the curtain to rise. +Course you have to have a curtain. The table-cloth covered the lower +part of him. His own hands and arms were turned into feet and legs for +the dwarf. I’ll tell you how. The arms had little trousers on them, and +the hands were put into nice little button-boots, so they looked like +legs and feet. He was all stuffed out above his waist, and had on a +stiff shirt bosom, and breastpin, and necktie, and false whiskers, and a +wig made of black curled hair, and a tasselled cap, with a gilt band +round it. He crooked his arms at the elbows and laid them flat on the +table, with the button-boots towards the curtain, so when the curtain +went up it looked like a little dwarf sitting down, facing the company. +Now I must tell you where the dwarf’s arms and hands came from. For you +know that Bubby Short’s arms and hands were made into legs and feet for +the dwarf. Now to make arms, he had on a little coat, with the sleeves +of it stuffed out to look like arms, and then a stuffed pair of white +cotton gloves was sewed on to the sleeves, to look like hands, and these +gloves were pinned together by the fingers in front of his waist so as +to look like clasped hands. + +The showman asked him to do different things. Asked him to try to stand +up. Then Bubby Short began to get up, very slow, as if ’t was tough work +to do it, and let his arms straighten themselves down, and looked just +as if there was a little short fellow standing on the table. I thought +like enough you’d like to know how, so as to make one some time, out of +Tommy or some bigger boy that knows how to whistle. The showman made his +dwarf whistle a funny tune, and told us ’t was an air of his native +country. Then made him step out the tune with his little button-boots, +and it seemed just like a little dancing dwarf. The showman said that +was the national dance of his country. I guess Uncle Jacob would like to +see one. I guess his eyes would twinkle. + +When the curtain went up you ought to ’ve heard the folks roar! Some of +them thought ’t was real. When the company asked him if he could move +his arms, he shook his head, no. Then the showman said he could make him +do it, by whispering a charm in his ear. So he went close up and +whispered, and took out the pin that pinned the gloves, in a secret way, +and then the arms dropped apart. All the way he could move his arms was +by shaking his body, and then only a little. The showman said the +fearful accident that stopped his growth lost him the use of his arms, +though he could dance and whistle and make a bow [_here he made him make +a bow_], and could scratch his ear with his boot [_here he scratched his +ear with the button-boot-toe_], but his brain was strong as anybody’s. +Then afterwards he told how much he knew. But you can read about it in +the Narrative. He made him crook his knees sideways. He could do this +easy enough, for ’t was only the elbows bending outwards. Then he made +him sit down again. I don’t believe any of you ever saw anything so +funny. The showman kept a very sober face all the time, and ’most made +us believe every word of his story was true, and at the end he spoke +very loud and acted it out, like an orator. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Will you please send back the picture of that creature we sent you +once? We want to do something with it. I put in the Narrative some of +the things the audience did. + + +NARRATIVE. + +MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-- + +Hyladdu Alizamrald, the unfortunate gentleman now before you, was born +in the country of Empskutia, on the borders of the great unknown region +of Phlezzogripotamia, which lies beyond the sources of the river +Phlezzra. He was the only child of a nobleman, whose wealth was +unbounded, and whose power was immense. The day of his birth was made a +day of rejoicing throughout the city. Not only were fountains of wine +set flowing, that none might go athirst (for the Empskutians are driest +when they’re happiest), but living fountains of milk also, that every +child might, on that happy day, drink its fill of the pure infantine +fluid. It is perhaps needless to remark that these last were cows, +driven in from the surrounding plains. + +Hyladdu was an infant of great promise, and bade fair to become the +pride of his native land, instead of being--of being--pardon my emotion. +[_Showman puts handkerchief to his eyes. Hyladdu wipes away a tear with +his boot-toe._] Yes, gentlemen and ladies [_calmer_], at his birth there +seemed to be no reason why Hyladdu’s head should not rise as far towards +the clouds as will yours, my smiling young friends before me. Briefly, +he was not born a dwarf. Shall I relate how this sweet flower of promise +was nipped in the bud? [_The audience cry, “Yes! yes!” Hyladdu takes his +handkerchief in both boots and wipes his eyes._] + +Listen, then. When Hyladdu had reached the age of eighty-one +days--eighty-one being the third multiple of three--his parents, +according to the custom of the country, summoned to the cradle of the +young child a Thulsk. + +The Thulski are a tall, mysterious race of prophets, known only in +Empskutia, who attain to an unknown age. Many of them cannot even +remember their own boyhood. These prophets are reverenced by all the +people. As year after year is added to their life, they grow thin, dark, +and shrivelled, like mummies. The skin is dry and hangs loose about the +bones. The hair is long and white, and every year adds to its length and +its whiteness, while the eyes seem blacker and more piercing. They wear +very high black caps, square, and carry in the hand a peculiar flower, a +snow-white flower, having five petals, which grows in secret places, and +which, even if found, no other person ever dare to pluck, lest its +peculiar smell should work a charm upon them. None but the Thulski +themselves know when and where the Thulski die. If they have graves they +are unknown graves, though it is a common belief in the country that the +mysterious white-petalled flower blooms only in their burial-places. +During life they live apart from all others, seldom speaking, even when +mingled in the busy crowd. + +The order of the Thulski is kept up in this way. Their chief, clad in +long dark robes, wanders silently the streets, and when, among the +children at play, he discovers one who has some peculiar mark about +him,--the nature of this mark is unknown,--he beckons, and the child +follows him. Must follow him. For that silent beckoning joins him to +their order. He is from that moment a Thulsk, and has no wish to +escape. + +Now, although to be a Thulsk is to be certain of long life, yet no +mother desires this fate for her child, but, on the contrary, children +are warned against them, and have among themselves a secret sign, a +rapid motion of the fingers, which means “scatter!” And if, when they +are at play, the white-haired prophet is seen, though even at a great +distance, this sign is rapidly made, and the little flock disappears so +instantly, one would suppose the earth had swallowed them. You will see, +before my melancholy story is finished, what all this has to do with +Hyladdu’s misfortune. + +As I was saying, when he had attained the age of eighty-one +days,--eighty-one being the third multiple of three,--his parents, +according to the custom of the Empskutians, summoned one of these +prophets to the cradle of their child, that his fortunes might be +foretold. + +The weird, shrivelled old Thulsk, with his flowing white hair, wrapped +his dark robes about him, and sat silently at the low cradle, gazing +upon the sleeping child. At length he arose, with a look of sorrow, and +would have departed without uttering a single word. + +“Speak! speak!” cried the father. + +“Ah, do not speak!” murmured the mother; for she perceived that the +prophet foresaw evil. “Yet speak, yes, speak!” she cried. “Let us know +the worst, that we may prepare ourselves.” + +The prophet then made a reply, of which these five words are a +translation:-- + +“Sorrow cometh sufficiently soon. Wait!” + +But, on being very earnestly entreated, he disclosed that before the +beautiful infant attained his sixth year--six being the double of +three--he would sustain injuries from a fall, by which either his mind +or his body would be blighted. Which, it was not given him to say. He +added that it grieved him to still further disclose that he himself +would be in some way connected with the child’s misfortune, though in +what way even his prophetic vision could not foresee. + +Now it may readily be supposed that the parents spared no pains to ward +off from their child this unknown danger. The upper windows were +immediately fastened down, fresh air being secured by means of hinges on +each square of glass. As soon as he could walk sentinels were placed at +every flight of stairs, and to keep him out of the cellar, a neighboring +wine-merchant was invited to store his goods there, so that wine-butts +took up every inch of room, from floor to ceiling. Ladders and movable +steps he was not allowed the sight of, and as it seems as natural for +boys to climb trees as to breathe the air around them, every tree in the +grounds was protected by sharp iron teeth. + +The longing which every boy has to climb is called the climbing +instinct. In Hyladdu the climbing instinct was nipped in the +bud,--smothered, crushed, kept under. He was forbidden to swing on +gates, taught to avoid fence-posts, lamp-posts, and flag-staffs, and to +look upon hills as summits of danger. Of shinning, he knew but the name. +And that the very idea of climbing might be kept from his mind, all +climbing plants were rooted out from the grounds; not even a +morning-glory was allowed to run up a string! By these means the anxious +parents hoped to prevent what the Thulsk had foretold, from coming to +pass. “For,” said they, “if he never goes up, he can never fall down.” +But mark now how all these precautions were the very means of making the +prophecy prove true. For, had he only been taught to climb, and had been +accustomed to high places, that sad accident might not have taken place +and the blighted individual before you might now have been one of the +flowers of his country! [_Emotion._] Pardon me, friends. Tears come +unbidden. [_Showman holds handkerchief to his eyes. Dwarf ditto, with +boots._] + +Imagine now the dear child, grown a beautiful boy of five summers,--a +boy of beaming blue eyes, and a rosy cheek! of flaxen curls and a +graceful motion! The idol of his parents, the joy of his friends! Sweet +in disposition, of tender feelings, quick to learn, truthful, +affectionate, gentle in his manners, winning in his ways, no wonder that +he was so well beloved! + +It was only one short week before his sixth birthday, and his friends +were trembling with joy, that the fatal time had so nearly passed, when +the calamity which had so long hung over him like a cloud descended upon +him like a thunderbolt! In other words, he lacked but a week of six, and +all were rejoicing that the danger was nearly passed, when the event +happened. + +Hyladdu, being, like most boys, of a playful turn of mind, was sometimes +permitted to join in the games of other children, in front of his +father’s mansion, attended always by a faithful servant. On this +particular day they were amusing themselves by playing with some +silver-coated marbles, a box of which had been presented to Hyladdu by +his grandmother, who was one of the court ladies. + +A very pretty group they were. The children of that country, like their +fathers, were dressed in long white robes, with bright sashes. On their +heads they wore caps of blue or scarlet, which turned up with points +before, behind, and at each side. On each point a little silver bell was +hung, that the servants might have less difficulty in following them +about. Their shoes were pointed at the toes. + +Among those silver marbles was an “alley” of great beauty, glistening +with rubies, and inlaid with pearl. This alley never was played for in +earnest. [_Here the dwarf beckons to the showman, and whispers in his +ear._] He informs me that the laws forbade playing in earnest. I will +now finish as rapidly as possible. + +In the course of the game, this precious “alley” rolled a long distance, +until it came to a brick in the pavement, which was set slanting, or had +become so by a sinking of the ground underneath. This brick gave the +“alley” a turn sideways to the left, and it rolled at last through a +crack in the garden fence, and hid itself in the grass. The servant, in +great haste, darted through the gate in search of it. + +Meanwhile, slowly down the street, though at a distance, a Thulsk was +approaching. It was the same who had nearly six years before sat by +Hyladdu’s cradle. He walked silently on, his eyes cast down, his hands +clasped, holding between them the five-petalled flower. One of the boys, +perceiving him, made the sign of warning. Instantly they scattered, like +a flock of pigeons, leaving their little silver-belled caps on the +ground. Hyladdu, seeing the cellar open, would have hidden himself +there, but no space was left between the wine-butts. A much larger boy +seized his hand and pulled him into a strange house, and then, in his +fright, dragged him through long passage-ways, and up seven flights of +stairs; for the Empskutians build their houses to an immense height. +Here they sat down to breathe awhile, and Hyladdu begged the boy to go +for the faithful servant, that he might lead him home. + +Now no sooner was the boy gone than Hyladdu began to look about him, and +presently he discovered a slender staircase going still higher. Having +climbed seven flights with help, he felt no fear in attempting the +eighth alone. This slender staircase conducted him to the roof of the +building. [_Emotion and handkerchief._] Excuse my emotion. But when I +think what might have happened, if something else had not happened to +prevent, when I think that he might have fallen from that immense +height, to be dashed in pieces beneath, I--I--But I will let my story +take its course. + +And now let me tell you that the people of Empskutia were very fond of +the beautiful. The streets were adorned with ornamental trees, and over +the roofs of the houses were trained flowering vines, which ran to the +highest peak of cupola or chimney, and, blooming sweetly there, filled +the whole air with fragrance. It was the custom of the people to place +stout iron hooks along the eaves of their dwellings, from which were +suspended immense flower-pots of various beautiful designs. In these +pots the flowering vines took root and from thence not only climbed the +roof, but trailed gracefully down, thus giving the city a festive +appearance, like a never-ending gala-day. + +When Hyladdu looked out from the top of that last eighth flight, the +long-smothered instinct of climbing burst out like a hidden fire. It +would not be restrained. Ah, now will be seen the folly of crushing that +instinct. Had he only have been accustomed to dizzy heights, made +familiar with danger, how different might have been his fate! +[_Emotion._] + +The instinct of climbing, as I said, was now strong upon him! No sooner +did he perceive that there was still a height to gain than he resolved +to gain that height. Nothing less would satisfy him than sitting astride +the ridgepole, where a pair of bright-feathered birds had built their +nest, and were then feeding their young. He ventured out, made his way +cautiously up, holding on by the vines. Ah, could his parents have seen +him then! + +He arrived at the top, and there, seated on that lofty pinnacle, +surrounded by beautiful flowers, he gazed on the scene below, and +enjoyed a new happiness. For the first time in his life he looked down +from a height! for the first time in his life he gazed abroad over a +wide extended country! + +Such pleasure he had never known, and the faithful servant, anxiously +searching, might have found him there, still enjoying it, but for a +pretty little bluebird, that flew suddenly down and startled him, while +he was gazing at some object far away. This little bird came flying +through the air, and alighted for an instant on the child’s head, +thinking perhaps to make its nest in the soft curls, or it might have +thought his rosy lips were cherries. The suddenness with which it came +startled Hyladdu. He trembled, he lost his hold, slipped, then caught +by a vine, it gave way, he slipped again, but, having no skill in +climbing, slipped lower and lower, and would have fallen from the roof +and been dashed in pieces, but for that custom which was mentioned just +now, of suspending large flower-pots from the eaves. It happened that +his course lay directly towards one of these iron hooks. He dropped, +therefore, into the immense flower-pot beneath, where he lay as secure +as a babe in its cradle! + +From this frightful position he was at length rescued by one of the hook +and ladder company of that city, and placed in his mother’s arms. His +own arms were nearly paralyzed by his frantic efforts to cling to some +support, so that ever afterwards he could move them but very slightly, +as you perceive. [_Dwarf moves his arms slightly, by shaking his body._] +And though the child’s life was spared, yet the terrible fright had the +effect of stopping his growth! Yes, my young friends, Hyladdu never grew +more, except in wisdom! The innocent cause of all this, the poor +sorrowing grandmother, died of remorse! + +And now my story becomes a more pleasing one to tell. Although the +child’s body remained dwarfed in size, yet his heart grew in goodness, +and his mind grew in knowledge, and he was beloved and respected by all. +Debarred earthly mountains, he mounted the heights of learning. The +climbing instinct, which his body could not satisfy, was developed in +his mind. He craved books, he craved whole libraries. Teacher after +teacher came, all exhausting upon him their treasures of knowledge. +Music and drawing, studied scientifically, were his amusements. He +mastered astronomy, mineralogy, algebra, conchology, trigonometry, +physiology, engineering, metaphysics, technology, geology, phrenology, +also foreign languages unnumbered, with all the literature belonging to +each. [_Sensation in the audience._] And when at last the storehouses of +wisdom seemed exhausted, a report reached him of a great country beyond +the seas, called the United States of America, in whose excellent +schools there remains something yet to learn! [_Applause from the +audience._] + +He studied the written language of that country, read its history, and +resolved to seek its shores. For he longed to behold the land of the +Revolutionary War; to read the Declaration of Independence, and to stand +upon the grave of Old John Brown! [_Applause._] + +He had heard of Bunker’s Hill. Travellers said that upon whomsoever +rested the shadow of its monument, that person possessed forever after +the unflinching bravery of those who bled and perished there! +[_Cheers._] He had heard of Plymouth Rock [_Cheers_], and been told that +his foot once planted firmly upon it, he would feel springing up within +him all the heroism, the self-sacrifice, and the everlasting +perseverance of the glorious Pilgrim Fathers! [_Prolonged cheering._] + +I have now, my young friends, told you, very briefly, the history of +this remarkable character. His age is thirty-four years. He is of a +cheerful disposition, having long ago resolved to look his misfortune +steadily in the face and make the best of it. In books, where are +treasures stored up by the scholars of all past time, he finds a +never-ending pleasure. Though dwarfed in stature, he is resolved to make +a man of himself, and will fight it out on that line if it takes all +summer. For he early adopted for his motto, these beautiful lines of Dr. +Watts,-- + + “Were I so tall as to reach the pole, + Or grasp the ocean in my span, + I should be measured by my soul. + The mind’s the standard of the man.” + +[_Applause._ + + (_Curtain falls._) + +I once heard the above narrative repeated by Joe in a truly theatrical +manner. On the same occasion I also saw the picture of the “creature” to +which William Henry refers in his postscript to the Dwarf Letter. + +Uncle Jacob hailed me one day as I was coming from my office, and after +driving close to the curbstone, informed me that Cousin Joe and his +accordion had arrived, both in good health and spirits. Also, that +Billy’s school had met with a very sudden vacation, caused either by +flues, or furnaces, or both, having something the matter with them, and +the young rascal would be at home that evening, and I must come without +fail. “Of course you know,” said he, “’tis a pretty hard thing for Billy +having to give up his studies, so he’s coming home to his friends. +Nothing like being among friends when you’re in trouble?” + +Now this was by no means a remarkable event. Only a boy coming home for +a few days to see his folks. Still, an occasion which worked Grandmother +up to the pitch of putting on her best cap should not be passed over in +silence. + +I went out to the Farm that evening, and on arriving found Cousin Joe, +and the accordion, and Aunt Phebe’s family, with a few relatives whom I +had never met before, all assembled at Grandmother’s. They had made up a +fire in the “Franklin fireplace.” This “Franklin fireplace” was a sort +of iron framework, projecting from the chimney into the room. The top +was flat, with brass balls on the corners. It had iron sides, which +“flared out,” and a rounded iron hearth of its own, about an inch above +the brick hearth, and shining brass andirons. + +No one could wish for a brighter room, I thought, for there was the +light from the fire, the light from the “lights,” and the light from all +those smiling faces! An inviting supper-table was set out, covered +dishes were “keeping warm” on the hearth and “frame,” and everything was +ready and waiting for William Henry. Mr. Carver had gone to the station, +and they were expected back every moment. + +Georgiana was very busy over a skein of blue sewing-silk. She informed +me that that was the first whole skein of sewing-silk she ever had in +all her life, and that it came from a bundle of all colors, which Cousin +Joe gave to Hannah Jane. It brought trouble with it, as it is said all +earthly possessions do, and snarled at all her attempts to coax it on to +a spool. Tommy, sober as a judge, was holding it for her to wind. He sat +in a little chair, with his legs crossed. His mother said he was very +particular to cross his legs, so as to seem more like a man. + +Lucy Maria had just persuaded Grandmother to put on her best, double +stringed, white-ribboned cap, in honor of William Henry. It was the very +one he brought her so long ago, but was still as good as new, having +very seldom seen the light of day, or of evening, since it first came +home in the bandbox. She had also been coaxed into her second-best +dress, and then into the rocking-chair. Lucy Maria tied her cap under +the chin, with the narrow strings, and smoothed down the wide ones. + +“You have no idea, Grandmother,” said she. “You haven’t the faintest +idea how well you look!” + +“’T is too dressy for me,” said Grandmother. “It don’t feel natural on +my head.” + +“Now I should think,” said Uncle Jacob, “that a cap would feel more +natural on anybody’s head than anywhere!” + +“It looks natural,” said Lucy Maria, “I’m sure it does. Looks as if it +grew there!” + +“And only think how ’t will please Billy!” said Aunt. Phebe. + +[Illustration] + +The “_Map of the United States_” had been brought out of the front room, +and placed over the mantel-piece. And Lucy Maria, for fun, she said, and +to pay a delicate compliment to the artist, had fastened a few sprays of +upland cranberry around it. And, also, for fun, she pinned up near it a +little picture, which I had quite a laugh over, and which, she said, was +the renowned Megotharium, in the act of feeding drawn by the famous +artist, William Henry, assisted by his brother artist, Dorry. The +picture, she added, was not an _original_, but merely a copy done by a +female. A photograph of these two artists, sitting side by side, was +exhibited, underneath the picture. + +Cousin Joe said that _creature_ beat all his going to sea. This young +tailor, by the way, must have made a jolly shipmate. He was full of his +jokes and his tricks. Tried to twirl Tommy round, by rubbing him between +his two hands, as one does a top, telling him that was the way the +Hottentots did to take the mischief out of boys! + +Aunt Phebe said she thought if the Hottentots knew any way of taking the +mischief out of boys, and were out of work, they might find employment +in this country. + +Tommy begged to play “one tune,” and was allowed to. Cousin Joe declared +that “that accordion was played every wave of the way across the +Atlantic,” either by himself or by one of the sailors, and that +sometimes the mermaids sang to its music! Asked Tommy if he would like +to bear the tune the mermaids sang? Tommy said he should rather wait +till after supper. This was the way in which, company being present, the +young chap let it be known that he was hungry. + +Grandmother wondered, then, why they didn’t come, and went to look out +of the window, putting up both hands, to keep the light of the room from +her eyes; then opened the outside door, to listen for the whistle; then +went to look at the kitchen clock; then came back, saying it was a good +deal past the time, and what could be the matter? + +She little knew who was behind, following her on tiptoe into the room. +William Henry himself! He was creeping in at the sink room door, just as +she turned to come back from looking at the clock, and followed softly +behind. She didn’t notice how very smiling we all looked. Billy shook +his finger at us, to hush us. + +“I hope there hasn’t anything happened to the cars,” said she. + +“I hope so too!” shouted Billy. And, by a miraculous jump, he planted +himself, square foot, in front of his grandmother, who, of course, +walked straight into his arms! + +Then everybody shouted, and clapped, and shook hands, and kissed. The +cap got twisted about, and as if there were not confusion enough, Cousin +Joe began to caper about, and to play on his accordion tunes that were +never played before! + +Such a splendid fellow as Billy was! Such a hearty, laughing, breezy +fellow, with his thick head of hair, “not so red as it was,” and his +honest, good-natured face! I didn’t wonder they were all so glad to see +him. + +“Welcome home, shipmate!” shouted Cousin Joe. “Welcome home! How long’ll +you be in port?” And worked away at Billy’s hand as if he’d been pumping +out ship. + +“’Most a week,” said Billy. “Mind my forefinger.” + +“Don’t take long to stay at home a week,” said Cousin Joe, tossing up +his accordion. + +“That’s so,” said Uncle Jacob. “Come, let’s be doing something!” + +“That means, let’s be eating something,” said Aunt Phebe. “Come, girls, +put everything on the table! Billy, how tall and spruce you do look! +Poor Grandmother, she’s losing her little Billy!” + +“But what’s her loss is his gain!” said Uncle Jacob. “I speak to sit +next the frosted cake. Where’s Tommy?” + +Tommy came in, tugging Billy’s carpet-bag, which he found in the +kitchen, hoping, no doubt, there were goodies inside for him. + +We had a delightful “supper-time,” Grandmother, of course, piling +Billy’s plate with everything good. + +“I see,” said Mr. Carver, “that whatever boys eat at home grandmothers +expect will agree with them!” + +The happy “young rascal” meanwhile bore the separation from his studies +with amazing fortitude! Told no end of funny stories about the boys, and +about parties, and about the Two Betseys. And twice, during supper, he +exclaimed, “I do hope nothing has happened to those cars. They were such +good cars!” + +My visits to the farm were always delightful, but during that +supper-time, and during that evening, I grudged every moment as it flew +away. + +Uncle Jacob was in high glee, and insisted on being taught “the graces,” +and on having his wife taught “the graces.” Then Lucy Maria “set her +foot down” that every one should stand in the row, and Billy should be +Mr. Tornero. And, being a girl of resolution, she coaxed every one into +line, except Grandmother, who said her rheumatism should do her some +service then, if never before. + +“The graces” were then taught, and learned, amid shouts of laughter, +Cousin Joe playing for us, and I’ll venture to say that had Mr. Tornero +been present, he would have been astonished at our steps, and also at +the music! + +Afterwards we had the dwarf shown off, Cousin Joe being the showman. He +declared after looking over the “Narrative,” that Empskutia was a place +well known to him, and that he had often sailed up the “river Phlezzra,” +to trade with the natives. Lucy Maria dressed him in a large-figured red +and green bedspread, pinned on to look like a loose robe, with flowing +sleeves, and girded about the waist with cords and tassels taken from +Aunt Phebe’s parlor curtains. He wore an immense lace collar, and a +turban made of a white muslin handkerchief (one that was Grandmother’s +mother’s) and besprinkled with artificial flowers. His face was tattooed +with a lead-pencil, and dark circles drawn around his eyes. He held in +his hand a slender rod, or wand. + +The dwarf was a young cousin of William Henry’s (not Tommy), and he did +his part well, whistling, bowing, dancing, sneezing, rising, sitting, +with a perfectly sober face. + +The showman then read the “Narrative,” adding thereto such ridiculous +incidents, and such comical remarks, that the audience were convulsed +with laughter, and the face of the dwarf twitched alarmingly. These +twitchings, he (the showman) said, were not unusual, and were the +effects of the sad occurrence then being narrated. The closing portions +of the story were declaimed in a powerful voice. He “acted out” the +“pole” and the “span,” and at the third line, “I must be measured by my +_soul_,” laid his hand upon his heart in the most impressive manner, and +remained in that position till the curtain fell. + +After this “John Brown” was sung, and William Henry was permitted to +roar out that “Glory Hallelujah” as loudly as he pleased. + + * * * * * + +The following letter must have been written some time after William +Henry met with the _affliction_ which was so touchingly alluded to by +Uncle Jacob, as above related, and which that wretched youth felt could +only be endured in the bosom of his family! In the interval it appears +that he had been removed from the Crooked Pond School, and that Dorry +had left also, to finish preparing himself for college in some higher +seminary of learning. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry’s Letter after leaving School._ + +DEAR DORRY,-- + +I didn’t know I was going to come away from school so soon after you +did, but there was a new High School begun in our town about a mile and +a half off, and my father thought I could learn there, and learn to farm +it some too. But I don’t think much of farming it. Course ’t is fun to +see things grow, after you’ve planted the seeds, and then watched ’em +all the way up. My grandmother says my father likes his corn so well, +that he pities it in a dry time, and when a gale blows it down he pities +it as much as if he’d been blown down himself. Weeds are enough to make +a feller mad, coming up fast as you kill ’em and sucking all the +goodness out of the ground that don’t belong to them. Suppose they think +’t is as much theirs as anybody’s. + +I suppose you are studying away for college. I don’t know whether I wish +I could go or not. I guess my head wouldn’t hold all ’t would have to be +put into it before I went, and in all that four years too! Now I want to +know if a feller can remember all that? I mean remember the beginning +after all the other has been piled top of it? I don’t know what I shall +be yet. For there is something bad about everything, Grandmother says, +and I believe it. Now I don’t want to be a farmer, because ’t is hard +work and poor pay,--in these parts. I guess I should like to go to +Kansas. But there are the Indians after your scalp, and fever and ague, +and grasshoppers, and potato-bugs, and bean-bugs, and army-worms to eat +up everything, and droughts to dry up everything, and floods to wash it +away, and hurricanes to blow it down, and Uncle Jacob says if a man +comes through all these alive, with a few grains of corn, the man that +wants to buy ’em is a hundred miles off! But my father says, what is a +man good for that don’t dare to go to sail without ’t is on a mill-pond! +For smooth water can’t make a sailor. And if a man is scared of lions, +how will he get through the woods. So I don’t know yet what I shall be. +What should you, if you did n’ go to college? Go into a store? I tell +you, Dorry, that if I was a dry-goods clerk, fenced in behind a counter, +I do believe I should ache to jump over and _put_ for somewhere and go +to doing something. But my father says you can’t always tell a man by +what his business is. For you’ve got to allow for head work. And because +he sells shoe-strings, ’t is no sign he hasn’t got anything in his head +but shoe-strings; and because a man drives nails, ’t is no sign he +hasn’t got anything but nails in his head. “Now suppose,” says he, “that +a man sells dry goods all day, can’t he have some thoughts stowed away +in his brains that he got out of books, or got up himself? And when he’s +walking along home and back, and evenings, can’t he out with ’em and be +thinking ’em over?” I s’pose ’t isn’t time for me to have thoughts yet, +s’pose they’ll be dropping along in a year or two, “or three at the +most,” as Lord Lovell said. One thing I mean to have, and that is a good +house with all the fixings, and money to spend, and money to give away +if I want to. So whatever I get started on, I mean to pitch in and shove +up my sleeves, and go at it. Father says I must be thinking the matter +over, and not make my mind up right off. They say going to sea is a +dog’s life. I should like to go long enough to see what Spain looks +like, and China, and other places. Maybe I shall learn a trade. Now, for +instance, a carpenter’s. That don’t seem much of a trade. Mostly +pounding. But they say if you keep on, and are smart at it, why, you get +to taking houses, and then you are not a carpenter any longer, but a +“builder,” and money comes in. + +I’m going to let her rest a spell. Though I’m so old I can’t help +looking ahead some sometimes, to see where I’m coming out. + +Didn’t you feel homesick any when you were coming away from school? I +did,--“quite some,” as W. B. used to say. I went round to all the +places, and paddled in the pond, and lay down on the grass to take one +more drink out of the brook, and climbed up in the Elm, and ran up and +down our stairs much as half a dozen times, without stopping, for I +thought I never should again. + +I whittled a great sliver off the base-ball field fence to fetch away; +didn’t we use to have good times there? Bubby Short gave me his +pocket-book, and I gave him mine. They had about equal, inside. I went +to bid Gapper good-by, day before I came off, and gave Rosy my little +penknife. + +Then I went to bid the two Betseys good-by, and they wiped their eyes, +and seemed about as if they’d been my grandmothers, and said I _must_ +come to eat supper with them that afternoon. So I went. Me all alone! +Had a funny kind of a time. We sat at that round, three-legged stand, +and I’ll tell you what we had. Bannock and butter, sausages, flapjacks, +and scalloped cakes. All set on in saucers, for there wasn’t much room. +They had about supper enough for forty. For they said they knew their +appetites were nothing to judge a hungry boy by, and I must eat a good +deal and not go by them, and kept handing things to me, and every once +in a while they’d say, “Now don’t be scared of it, there’s more in the +buttery?” George! Dorry, I wish you could have seen that punkin-pie they +had! ’T was kept in a chair, a little ways off. I don’t see what ’t was +baked in. The Other Betsey said that was just such a kind of a pie as +her mother used to make. I out with my ruler, and asked if I might +measure it. ’T was about two feet across, and about four inches thick. +She said she thought ’t was a good time to make one, when they were +going to have company. When I took my piece I had to hold my plate in my +hand, for there wasn’t room on the stand. They wished you’d been there, +and so did I, and so would you, if you’d seen that pie. They didn’t take +down their best dishes, that we had that other time, but called me one +of the family and used the poor ones. I had to look out about lifting up +the spoon-holder, because the bottom had been off, once, and mind which +sugar-bowl handle I took hold of, for one side it was glued on. But +everything held. I can’t bear tea, but they said ’t was very warming and +resting, and I’d better. I guess they put in about six spoonfuls of +sugar! They wanted to know all about you, and said you were a smart +fellow. + +They wanted me to take some little thing out of the store, to remember +them by. So I looked and looked to find something that didn’t cost very +much, and at last I pitched upon a pocket-comb. The Other Betsey put on +her glasses and scratched a B. on it, and said it could stand for the +two of ’em. But I told her she better make two B.’s, for that would seem +more like the Two Betseys, and she did. Lame Betsey said one B. ought to +go lame, and the Other Betsey said she guessed they both would, for she +had poor eyesight, and her hand shook, and nothing but a darning-needle +to scratch with. If I do break the comb I shall keep the handle, for I +think the Two Betseys are tip-top. I wish they could come and see my +grandmother. Wouldn’t the three of ’em have a good time! + +Send a feller a letter once in a while, can’t ye? Say, now, you Dorry, +don’t get too knowing to write to a feller? + +Your friend, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +At this point the correspondence properly closes. As a faithful editor, +I have endeavored to let it tell its own story, but must frankly +acknowledge that at times, the pleasant memories recalled by these +Letters have tempted me, too far, perhaps, beyond editorial bounds. This +fault I freely confess, hoping to be as freely forgiven. Were it known +how much I have left unsaid, while longing to say it, I should receive +not only forgiveness but praise. + +In closing, I cannot do better than to add to the collection an extract +from a letter written to Mr. Carver by the Principal of the Crooked Pond +School. + +It seems that William Henry’s new teacher proposed his taking up Latin, +and that Mr. Carver being somewhat undecided about the matter, wrote to +the Principal of the Crooked School, asking his opinion. The Principal’s +reply, in as far as it discusses the Latin question, would scarcely be +in order here. But the closing portion will, I know, be read with +pleasure by all who have taken an interest in William Henry. He speaks +of him thus:-- + + * * * * * + +.... Allow me, sir, in concluding, to congratulate you on the many good +qualities of your son. He is one of the boys that I feel sure of. We +regret exceedingly his leaving us, and I assure you that he carries with +him the best wishes of all here,--teachers, pupils, and townspeople. I +shall watch his course with deep interest. A boy of his manly bearing, +kind disposition, and high moral principle will surely win his way to +all hearts, as he has done to ours. + +With regard to his studies, though not, perhaps, a remarkably brilliant +scholar, he has, on the whole, done well. For the first few months, it +is true, we rather despaired of awakening an interest. He was too fond +of play, too unwilling to come under our pretty strict discipline. +Observing how heartily he entered into all games, and that he excelled +in them, it occurred to us, that if the same ambition and pluck shown on +the playground could be aroused in the schoolroom, our object would be +gained. This, by various means, we have tried to accomplish, and I am +happy to add, with good success. Your son, sir, is a boy to be proud of. + +Very truly yours, + +---- ---- + + * * * * * + +It so happened that I called at the Farm the very day on which this +reply was received, and just as Grandmother had finished reading it. + +As I entered the room she looked up, and without speaking handed me the +letter. Tears stood in her eyes, and I saw that something had touched +her deeply. + +“Any bad news?” I asked. + +“No,” she answered, in a tremulous voice. “But to think of that +schoolmaster’s finding out what was in that child!” + + +Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The William Henry Letters</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Abby Morton Diaz</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 15, 2010 [eBook #34335]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 21, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS ***</div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width: 75%;" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="371" height="640" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h1>WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS.</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>MRS. A. M. DIAZ.</h2> + +<h4>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" width="125" height="139" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +BOSTON:<br /> +<br /> +FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.<br /> +<br /> +1870.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1870,<br /> +<br /> +BY FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.,<br /> +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co.,<br /> +Cambridge.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Young Friends</span>:—</p> + +<p>Much to my surprise, I was asked one day if I would be willing to edit +the William Henry Letters for publication in a volume.</p> + +<p>At first it seemed impossible for me to do anything of the kind; “for,” +said I, “how can any one edit who is not an editor? Besides, I am not +enough used to writing.” It was then explained to me that my duties +would simply be to collect and arrange the Letters, and furnish any +little items concerning William Henry and his home which might interest +the reader. It was also hinted, in the mildest manner possible, that I +was not chosen for this office on account of my talents, or my learning, +or my skill in writing; but wholly because of my intimate acquaintance +with the two families at Summer Sweeting place,—for I have at times +lived close by them for weeks together, and have taken tea quite often +both at Grandmother’s and at Aunt Phebe’s.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>After a brief consideration of the proposal, I agreed to undertake the +task; at the same time wishing a more experienced editor could have been +found.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>My acquaintance with the families commenced just about the time of +William Henry’s going to school, and in rather a curious way.</p> + +<p>I was then (and am now) much interested in the Freedmen. While serving +in the Army of the Potomac, I had seen a good deal of them, and was +connected with a hospital in Washington at the time when they were +pouring into that city, hungry and sick, and half-naked. I belonged to +several Freedmen’s Societies, and had just then pledged myself to beg a +barrelful of old clothing to send South.</p> + +<p>But this I found was, for an unmarried man, having few acquaintances in +the town, a very rash promise. I had no idea that one barrel could hold +so much. The pile of articles collected seemed to me immense. I wondered +what I should do with them all. But when packed away there was room left +for certainly a third as many more; and I had searched thoroughly the +few garrets in which right of search was allowed me. Even in those, I +could only glean after other barrel-fillers. A great many garrets +yielded up their treasures during the war; for “Old clo’! old clo’!” was +the cry then all over the North.</p> + +<p>Now, as I was sitting one afternoon by my barrel, wishing it were full, +it happened that I looked down into the street, and saw there my +<i>unknown friend</i>, waiting patiently in his empty cart. This <i>unknown +friend</i> was a tall, high-shouldered man, who drove in, occasionally, +with vegetables. There were others who came in with vegetables also, and +oftener than he; but this one I had particularly noticed, partly because +of his bright, good-humored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> face, and partly because his horse had +always a flower, or a sprig of something green, stuck in the harness.</p> + +<p>At first I had only glanced at him now and then in the crowd. Then I +found myself watching for his blue cart, and next I began to wonder +where he came from, and what kind of people his folks were. He joked +with the grocery-men, threw apples at the little ragged street children, +and coaxed along his old horse in a sort of friendly way that was quite +amusing. And though I had never spoken a word to him, nor he to me, I +called him my unknown friend, for a sight of him always did me good.</p> + +<p>It was a bony old gray horse that he drove, with a long neck poking way +ahead; and the man was a farmer-like man, and wore farmer-like clothes; +but he had a pleasant, twinkling eye, and the horse, as I said before, +was seldom without a flower or bit of green stuck behind his ear or +somewhere else about the harness.</p> + +<p>And often, when the town was hot and dusty, and business people were +mean, I would say to myself, as my friend drove past on his way home, +How I should like to ride out with him, no matter where, if ’t is only +where they have flowers and green things growing in the garden!</p> + +<p>On this particular afternoon, as I have said, I observed my friend +sitting quietly in his cart, “bound out,” as the fishermen say,—sitting +becalmed, waiting for something ahead to get started.</p> + +<p>It happened that I was just then feeling very sensibly the heat and +confinement of the town, and was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> more than usually weary of business +ways and business people; actually pining for the balmy air of pine +woods and the breath of flowery fields. And perhaps, thought I, my +friend may live among warm-hearted country folk, who will be delighted +to give to my poor contrabands, and whose garrets no barrelman has yet +explored!</p> + +<p>So, giving a second look, and seeing that he still sat there, patiently +awaiting his turn, I ran down, without stopping to think more about it, +and asked if I might ride out with him.</p> + +<p>“O yes. Jump in! jump in!” said he, in the pleasantest manner possible; +then he offered me his cushion, and began to double up an empty bag for +himself.</p> + +<p>“No, no. Give me the bag,” said I; and folding it, I laid it on the +board, just to take off the edge of the jolting a little. And my seat +seemed a charming one, after having been perched up on an office-stool +so long.</p> + +<p>That cushion of his took my eye at once. It looked as if it came out of +a rocking-chair. The covering was of black cloth, worked in a very +old-fashioned way, with pinks and tulips. The colors were faded, but it +had a homespun, comfortable, countrified look; in fact, the first glance +at that queer old cushion assured me that I was going to exactly the +right place.</p> + +<p>Presently we got started, and certainly I never had a better ride, nor +one with a pleasanter companion. He asked me all sorts of funny +questions about electricity, and oxygen, and flying-machines, and the +telegraph, and the moon and stars.</p> + +<p>“Now you are a learned man, I suppose,” said he; “and I want you to tell +me how that golden-rod gets its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> yellow out of black ground.” I said I +was not a learned man at all, and I didn’t believe learned men +themselves could tell how it got its yellow, and the asters their +purple, and the succory its blue, and the everlasting its white, all out +of the same black ground. He said he was pretty sure his wife couldn’t +boil up a kettleful and color either of those colors from them.</p> + +<p>So we went talking on. He asked me where I’d been stopping, and what I +did for a living. And I told him what I did for a living, and all about +soldier life, and the contrabands, and about my barrel. Our road led +through woods part of the way, and I drew in long breaths of woody air. +He told me a funny woodchuck story, and had a good deal to say about +wood-lots,—how some rich men formerly owned great tracts, but becoming +poor were forced to sell; and how, when pines were cut off, oaks grew up +in their place. And among other things he told me that a hardhack would +turn into a huckleberry-bush. I said that seemed like a miracle. He was +going on to tell me about one that he had watched, but just then we +turned into a pleasant, shady lane.</p> + +<p>We hadn’t gone far down this shady lane before we heard a loud screaming +behind us, and looking round saw a small boy caught fast in the bushes +by the skirt of his frock.</p> + +<p>“Do you see that little boy?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“O yes, I see him,” he said, laughing. “Hullo, Tommy! what you staying +there for?”</p> + +<p>The boy kept on crying.</p> + +<p>“What you waiting for?” he called out again, just as if he couldn’t see +that the bushes would not let the child stir.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>We found out afterwards that little Tommy had hid there to jump out and +scare his father, but got caught by the briers. I went to untangle +him,—his clothes had several rents,—and was going to put him in the +cart; but he would get in “his own self,” he said. Then he stopped +crying, and wanted to drive. His father said, “No, not till we get +through the bars.”</p> + +<p>Then Tommy began again. And at last he said, half crying and half +talking, “When I’m—the—father, and you ’m—the—ittle Tommy—you +can’t—drive—my—horse!”</p> + +<p>His father laughed and said: “Well, when I’m the little Tommy, I’ll +brush the snarls off my face—so, and throw them under the wheels—so, +and let ’em get run over!”</p> + +<p>This made Tommy laugh, and very soon after we came to the bars.</p> + +<p>I looked ahead and saw a neat white house, not very large, with green +blinds and a piazza, where flowering plants were climbing. There was a +garden on one side and an orchard on the other. Just across the garden +stood an old, brown, unpainted house. There were tall apple-trees +growing near it, that looked about a hundred years old. My friend, Uncle +Jacob,—I’ve heard him called Uncle Jacob so much since that I really +don’t know how to put a Mister to his name,—said those were Summer +Sweeting trees, that had pretty nigh done bearing. He said there used to +be Summer Sweeting trees growing all about there; and that when he took +part of the place, and built him a house, he cut down the ones on his +land, and set out Baldwins and Tallmans and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> Porters; but his mother +kept her’s for the good they had done, and for the sake of what few +apples they did bear, to give away to the children.</p> + +<p>The houses had their backs towards me, and I was glad of that, for I +always like back doors better than front ones.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob whistled, and I saw a blind fly open, and a handkerchief +wave from an upper window, where two girls were sitting. Uncle Jacob’s +wife stepped to the door and waved a sunbonnet, and then stepped back +again.</p> + +<p>“Here, Tommy,” said Uncle Jacob, “you carry in the magazine to Lucy +Maria, and here’s Matilda’s gum-arabic. I don’t see where Towser is.”</p> + +<p>I jumped out, and said I guessed I would keep on; for I began to feel +bashful about seeing so many women-folks.</p> + +<p>“Where you going to keep on to?” Uncle Jacob asked. “This road don’t go +any farther.”</p> + +<p>I said I would walk across the fields to the next village and find a +hotel.</p> + +<p>“O no,” said he, “stay here. Grandmother’ll be glad enough to hear about +the contrabands. She’ll knit stockings, and pick up a good deal about +the house to send off. And I want to ask much as five hundred questions +more about matters and things myself. Come, stay. Yes, we’ll give you a +good supper, a first-rate supper. Don’t be afraid. My wife’ll—There! I +forgot her errand, now! But if you—Whoa! whoa! Georgiana, take this +pattern in to your Aunt Phebe, and tell her I forgot to see if I could +match it; but I don’t believe the man had any like it.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Georgiana was a nice little girl that just then came running across the +garden,—William Henry’s sister, as I learned afterwards.</p> + +<p>Just then Aunt Phebe stepped to the door again.</p> + +<p>“Here are two hungry travellers,” said Uncle Jacob, “and one of us is +bashful.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Aunt Phebe, very cheerily, “if anybody is hungry, this is +just the right place. How do you do, sir? Come right in. We live so out +of the way we ’re always glad of company. Father, can’t you introduce +your friend?”</p> + +<p>“Well—no—I can’t,” said he. “But I guess he’s brother to the +President!”</p> + +<p>I said my name was Fry.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe said her father had a cousin that married a <i>Fry</i>, and asked +what my mother’s maiden name was. I told her my mother was a <i>Young</i>, +and that I was named for my father and mother both,—<i>Silas Young Fry</i>.</p> + +<p>I heard a tittering overhead, behind a pair of blinds, where I guessed +some girls were peeping through. And afterwards, when I was sitting on +the piazza, I heard one tell another, not thinking I was within hearing, +that a young fry had come to supper.</p> + +<p>When we all sat round the table the girls seemed full of tickle, which +they tried to hide,—and one of them asked me,—I think it was Hannah +Jane,—with a very sober face,—</p> + +<p>“Mr. Fry, will you take some fried fish?”</p> + +<p>I laughed and said, “No, I never take anything <i>fried</i>.”</p> + +<p>Then we all laughed together, and so got acquainted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> very pleasantly; +for I have observed that a little ripple of fun sets people nearer +together than a whole ocean of calm conversation.</p> + +<p>After supper Uncle Jacob read the paper aloud, while the girls washed up +the dishes. All were eager to hear; and I found they kept the run of +affairs quite as well as townspeople. When there was too much rattling +of dishes for Uncle Jacob to be heard, and the girls lost some important +item, he was always willing to read it over. Little Tommy was rolled up +in a shawl and set down in the rocking-chair (that cushion did come out +of it) while his mother mended his clothes. This was the way he usually +got punished for tearing them. He was done up in a shawl, arms and all, +and kept in the rocking-chair while the clothes were being mended, and +he was obliged to remain pretty quiet, or the chair would tip. Aunt +Phebe said Tommy was so careless, something must be done, and keeping +him still was the worst punishment he could have.</p> + +<p>When the girls finished their dishes and took out their sewing, and were +going to light the large lamp, their mother said that we mustn’t think +of settling ourselves for the evening. She said we must all go in to +grandmother’s, for she’d be dreadful lonely, missing Billy so.</p> + +<p>Then Aunt Phebe told me how her nephew, Billy, a ten-year old boy, had +gone away to school only the day before, and how they all missed him.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t he pretty young to go away to school?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I told his father,” said she.</p> + +<p>“His father sent him away to keep him,” said Uncle Jacob. “Grandmother +was spoiling him.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ruining the boy with kindness?” said Lucy Maria.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Aunt Phebe, “I suppose ’t was so. I know ’t was so. But we +did hate to have Billy go!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob then took me across the garden, and introduced me to Mr. +Carver, the father of William Henry, and to Grandmother,—old Mrs. +Carver, as the neighbors called her.</p> + +<p>She was a smiling, blue-eyed old lady, though with a little bit of an +anxious look just between the eyes. I thought there was no doubt about +her being a grandmother that would spoil boys.</p> + +<p>“Why, there’s Towser, now?” said Uncle Jacob. “He didn’t come to meet me +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“He’s been there, off and on, pretty much all day,” said grandmother. +“You see what he’s got his head on don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Billy’s old boots!” said Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>“Yes. He set a good deal by Billy. I haven’t put the boots away yet,” +she said, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“Here, Towser! come here, sir!” cried Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>Towser was a big, shaggy, clever-looking dog. He got up slowly, sniffed +at my trousers, then walked to Uncle Jacob, then round the room, then to +the door, then up stairs and down again, and then back he went and lay +down by the boots.</p> + +<p>“He misses my grandson,” said grandmother to me, trying to smile about +it.</p> + +<p>The little girl, Georgiana, sat on a cricket, holding a kitten, tying +and untying its ribbon. A square of patchwork had fallen on the floor. +She stooped to pick it up and dropped her spool. That rolled away +towards the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> door, and kitty jumped for it and soon got the thread in a +tangle. The door opened so suddenly that she hopped up about two feet +into the air and tumbled head over heels.</p> + +<p>It was Lucy Maria who opened the door. The other girls came soon after; +and when Tommy was asleep Aunt Phebe came too. We had a very sociable +time. I don’t call myself a talker, but I didn’t mind talking there, +they seemed so easy, just like one’s own folks. I told grandmother many +things about the contrabands, and about Southern life, and Southern +people, and about soldier life and battles and rations and making raids, +and the Washington hospitals, and how needy the contrabands were, and +about my barrel. “Poor creatures!” said she. “I must look up some things +for them to-morrow.” Aunt Phebe thought there might be a good many +things lying about that would be of use to folks who hadn’t anything.</p> + +<p>“Billy’s boots!” cried Hannah Jane.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said her mother, “no use keeping boots for a growing boy.”</p> + +<p>This and other remarks brought us back to William Henry again, and +grandmother seemed glad of it. She liked to keep talking about her boy.</p> + +<p>“I shall feel very anxious,” she said. “I hope he will write soon as he +gets there. I told him he’d better write every day, so I could be sure +just how he was. For if well one day, he mightn’t be the next.”</p> + +<p>“O grandmother, that’s too bad!” said Lucy Maria. “’T is cruel to ask a +boy to write every day!”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t worry, mother,” said Aunt Phebe. “Billy’s always been a well +child.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>“These strong constitutions,” said grandmother, “when they do take +anything, ’t is apt to go hard with ’em.”</p> + +<p>“He’s taken pretty much everything that can be given to him already,” +said Aunt Phebe.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they’ll put clothes enough on his bed,” said grandmother. “I +can’t bear to think of his sleeping cold nights.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they have blankets in that part of the country,” said Uncle +Jacob.</p> + +<p>“But people are not always thoughtful about it,” said grandmother. “I +really hope he’ll take care of himself, and not be climbing up +everywhere. Houses and trees were bad enough; but now they have +gymnastic poles and everything else, to tempt boys off the ground. O +dear! when we think of everything that might happen to boys, ’t is a +wonder one of them ever lives to grow up. Isn’t there a pond near by?”</p> + +<p>“O yes,” said Lucy Maria, “Crooked Pond. That’s what gives the name to +the school,—Crooked Pond School.”</p> + +<p>“I hope he won’t be whipped,” said his little sister.</p> + +<p>“Whipped!” cried Aunt Phebe, “I should like to see anybody whipping our +Billy!”</p> + +<p>“O mother, I shouldn’t,” said Matilda.</p> + +<p>“’T isn’t an impossible thing,” said grandmother. “He’s quick. Billy’s +good-hearted, but he’s quick. He might speak up. I gave him a charge how +to behave. But then, what’s a boy’s memory? I don’t suppose he’ll +remember one half the things I told him. I meant to have charged him +over again, the last thing, not to stay out in the rain and get wet, +where there’s nobody to see to his clothes being dried.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well,” said Uncle Jacob, “if a boy doesn’t know enough to go into the +house when it rains, he better come home?”</p> + +<p>“What I hope is,” said Aunt Phebe, “that he’ll keep himself looking +decent.”</p> + +<p>“If he does,” said Lucy Maria, “then ’twill be the first time. The poor +child never seemed to have much luck about keeping spruced up. If +anybody here ever saw William Henry with no buttons off and both shoes +tied, and no rip anywhere, let ’em raise their hands!”</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. I thought grandmother’s eye wandered round the +circle, as if half taking it all in earnest, and half hoping some hand +would go up. But no hand went up.</p> + +<p>“Billy always was hard on his clothes,” she said, with a sigh. “If he +only keeps well I won’t say a word; but there’s always danger of boys +eating unwholesome things, where there’s nobody to deny them.”</p> + +<p>“Billy’s stomach’s his own, and he must learn to have the care of it,” +said Mr. Carver.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver seemed a very quiet, thoughtful man, and of quite a different +turn from his brother.</p> + +<p>I suggested that boarding-house diet was apt to be plain; and then told +grandmother about a nephew of mine, a nice boy, who was rather older +than her grandson, who was named after me, and of whom I thought +everything. I told her he had been away at school a year, and that he +enjoyed himself, and went ahead in his studies, and never had a sick +day, and came home with better manners than he had when he went away. As +this pleased her, I said everything I could think of about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> my nephew, +including some anecdotes of little Silas, when he was quite small; and +she told a few about William Henry, the others helping her out, now and +then, with some missing items.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob said he shouldn’t dare to say how many times she’d been +frightened almost to death about Billy. Many and many a time she was +sure he was lost, or drowned, or run over, or carried off, and would +never come back alive; but he always managed to come out straight at +last. Uncle Jacob said that if all the worry that was worried in this +world were piled up together, ’t would make a mountain; but if all of it +that needn’t be worried were knocked off, what was left wouldn’t be +bigger than a huckleberry hill.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver said there was one thing which made him entirely willing to +trust William Henry away, and that was, he had always been a boy of +principle. “I have watched him pretty closely,” said Mr. Carver, “and +have noticed that he has a kind of pride about him that will not permit +him to lie, or equivocate in any way.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true!” cried Aunt Phebe. “True enough! Billy don’t always look +fit to be seen, but he isn’t deceitful. I’ll say that for him!”</p> + +<p>“When he went to our school,” said Matilda, “and was in the class below +me, and there was a fuss among the boys, and all of ’em told it a +different way, the teacher used to say she would ask William Henry, and +then she could tell just how it happened.”</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t have a better name than that,” said Mr. Carver.</p> + +<p>Grandmother wiped her eyes, she seemed so gratified that her boy’s good +qualities were remembered at last.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>I am almost certain that an editor should not be so long in telling his +story. But I should like to say a little more about that first +night,—just a very little more.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Grandmother wouldn’t hear of my going to a hotel. Anybody that had been +a soldier, and was doing good, should never go from her house to find a +night’s lodging. And she might as well have said, particularly anybody +that had a little Silas away at school, for I saw she felt it.</p> + +<p>It required very little urging to make me stay; for in all my travels I +had never met with a pleasanter set of people. My choice was offered me, +whether to lodge in the front chamber, or in the little back chamber +where Billy slept. Of course I chose the last; for people’s best, front, +spare chambers never suit me very well.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 487px;"> +<img src="images/p016.jpg" width="487" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Billy’s room was a snug little room, low in the walls, and papered with +flowery paper. There were two windows, the curtains to which were made +of paper like that on the walls. You had to roll them up with your +hands, and tie them with a string that went over the top. The room was +over the sink-room, and in going into it we stepped one step down. There +was no carpet on the floor, excepting a strip by the bedside and a mat +before the table. Grandmother said the table Billy and she made +together, so the legs didn’t stand quite true. It was covered with +calico, and more calico was puckered on round the edge and came down to +the floor. That was done, she said, to make a place for his boots and +shoes. She thought ’t was well for a boy to have a place for his things, +even if he did always leave them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> somewhere else. There was nothing +under the table but one rubber boot, with the rubber mostly cut off, and +some pieces of new pine, easy to whittle, that Billy had picked up and +stowed away there. A narrow looking-glass hung over the table. It had a +queer picture at the top, of two Japanese figures. The glass had a +little crack in one corner,—cracked by his ball bouncing up when he was +trying it. Some green tissue-paper hung around this fracture with a very +innocent, ornamental air. Not far from the glass I observed a rusty +jack-knife stuck in the wall, close to the window-frame; and on its +handle was hanging a string of birds’-eggs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> In stepping up to examine +these I stumbled against an old hair-covered trunk, quite a large one. +The cover seemed a little askew, and not inclined to shut. This trunk +was the color of a red cow, and for aught I know was covered with the +skin of a red cow. In the middle of the cover the letters W. C. were +printed in brass nails, which led me to guess that the trunk had +belonged to William Henry’s father. Grandmother raised the cover, to see +what kept it from shutting, and found ’t was a great scraggly piece of +sassafras (saxifax) root, which lay on top.</p> + +<p>There was everything in that trunk,—everything. Of course I don’t mean +meeting-houses, or steamboats, or anacondas; but everything a boy would +be likely to have. I saw picture papers, leather straps, old +pocket-books, a pair of dividers, the hull of a boat, a pair of +boot-pullers, a chrysalis, several penholders, a large clam-shell, a few +pocket combs,—comb parts gone,—fishing-lines, reels, bobs, sinkers, a +bullet-mould, arrows, a bag of marbles, a china egg, a rule, hammers, a +red comforter, two odd mittens, “that had lost the mates of ’em,” a +bird-call, a mask, an empty cologne-bottle, a dime novel, odd +cards,—all these, and more, were visible by merely stirring the top +layer a little. Also several tangles of twine, twining and intertwining +among the mass. Grandmother shook up the things some,—by means of a +handle which probably belonged to a hatchet, but the hatchet part was +buried,—and I saw that the bottom was covered with marbles, dominos, +nails, bottles, slate-pencils, bits of brass clock machinery, and all +the innumerable nameless, shapeless things which would be likely to +settle down to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> bottom of a boy’s trunk. Grandmother said she should +set it to rights if it weren’t for fish-hooks; but anybody’s hands going +in there would be likely to get fish-hooks stuck into them.</p> + +<p>In one end of the trunk was quite a fanciful box. It was nothing but a +common pine box, painted black, with “cut out” pictures pasted on it. +There were ladies’ faces, generals’ heads, bugs, horses, butterflies, +chairs, ships, birds, and in the centre of the cover, outside, there was +a large red rose on its stalk. At the centre, inside, was a laughing, or +rather a grinning face, cut from some comic magazine. In this box was +kept some of his more precious treasures,—a little brass anchor, a +silver pencil-case, a whole set of dominos, and a ball, very prettily +worked, orange-peel pattern, in many colors. This was a present from his +teacher. There was also a curious pearl-handled knife, with the blades +broken short off. She said he never felt so badly about breaking any +knife as when that got broken, for it was one his cousin brought him +home from sea. He was keeping it to have new blades put in.</p> + +<p>“How much this trunk reminds me of little Silas’s bureau-drawer!” I +said, taking up an old writing-book. As I spoke several bits of paper +fell out and among them were some very funny pictures, done with a +lead-pencil and then inked over.</p> + +<p>“What are these?” I asked. “Does he draw?”</p> + +<p>“Well—not exactly,” she answered,—“nothing that can be called drawing. +He tries sometimes to copy what he sees.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I may look at them,” I said, picking up one of the bits of +paper. “Pray what is this?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grandmother put on her spectacles, and turned the paper round, as if +trying to find the up and down of it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p019.jpg" width="448" height="294" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>“O, this is Uncle Jacob chasing the calf,” said she; “those things that +look like elbows are meant for his legs kicking up. And on this piece +he’s tried to make the old gobbler flying at Georgiana. You see the +turkey is as big as she is. But maybe you don’t know which the turkey +is! That one is the fat man, and that one is the cat and kittens. And +that one is a dandy, making a bow. He saw one over at the hotel that he +took it from.”</p> + +<p>She was sitting by the bed, and as she named them, spread them out upon +it, one by one, along with some others I have not mentioned, all very +comical. When I had finished laughing over them I said,—</p> + +<p>“I should like to send these pictures in my barrel. ’T would give the +little sick contrabands something to laugh at.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell Billy when he comes,” she answered, then gathered them +up and smoothed the quilt again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>The bedstead was a low one, without any posts, except that each leg +ended at the top with a little round, flat head or knob. The quilt was +made of light and dark patchwork. Grandmother told me, lowering her +voice, that Billy’s mother made that patchwork when she was a little +girl just learning to sew; but ’t was kept laid away, and about the last +work she ever did was to set it together. And ’t was her request that +Billy should have it on his bed. She said Billy was a very <i>feeling</i> +boy, though he didn’t say much. One time, a couple years ago, she hung +that quilt out to blow, and forgot to take it in till after the dew +began to fall, so, being a little damp, she put on another one. But next +morning she looked in, and there ’t was, over him, spread on all skewy!</p> + +<p>“Sometimes I think,” she added, “that boys have more feeling than we +think for!”</p> + +<p>“I know they have!” I answered.</p> + +<p>A picture of William Henry’s mother hung opposite the bed. It was not a +very handsome face, nor a pretty face. But it had such an earnest, +loving, wistful expression, that I could not help exclaiming, +“Beautiful!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she was a beautiful woman. We all loved her. She was just like a +daughter to me. Billy doesn’t know what he’s lost, and ’t is well he +don’t. I try to be a mother to him; but they say,” said the +tender-hearted old lady,—“they say a grandmother isn’t fit to have the +bringing up of a child! Billy has his faults.”</p> + +<p>“Now if I were a child,” I exclaimed, “I should rather you would have +the bringing up of me than anybody I know of! And ’t is my opinion, from +what I hear, that you’ve done well by Billy. Of course boys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> are boys, +and don’t always do us they ought to. Now there’s little Silas. He’s +been a world of trouble first and last. But then boys soon get big +enough to be ashamed of all their little bad ways. The biggest part of +’em like good men best, and mean to be good men. And I think Billy’s +going to grow up a capital fellow! A capital fellow! If a boy’s +true-hearted he’ll come out all right. And your boy is, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“O very!” she said. “Very!”</p> + +<p>I was so glad to think, after the old lady had gone down, that I’d said +something which, if she kept awake, thinking about the boy, would be a +comfort to her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Next morning grandmother brought out quite an armful of old clothes. A +poor old couple, living near, she said, took most of hers and Mr. +Carver’s; but what few there were of Billy’s that were decent to send I +might have. A couple of linen jackets, a Scotch cap, two pairs of thin +trousers, not much worn, but outgrown, a small overcoat, several pairs +of stockings, and some shoes. And the boots also, and some +underclothing, that William Henry might have worn longer, she said, if +he were only living at home, where she could put a stitch in ’em now and +then.</p> + +<p>Grandmother sighed as she emptied the pockets of crumbles, green apples, +reins, bullets, and knotted, gray, balled-up pocket-handkerchiefs. Among +the clothes she brought out a funny little uniform, which I had seen +hanging up in his room,—one that he had when a soldier, or trainer, as +she called it, in a military company, formed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> near the beginning of the +war. It consisted of a blue flannel sack, edged with red braid, red +flannel Zouave trousers, and a blue flannel cap, bound with red, and +having a square visor. That uniform would fit some little contraband, +she said.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better keep those?” I asked. “Won’t he want them?”</p> + +<p>“O no,” she said. “He’s outgrown them. And ’t is no use keeping them for +moths to get into.”</p> + +<p>She gave me some picture-books, and two primers, a roll of linen, and +quite a good blanket, all of which I received thankfully.</p> + +<p>In rolling up the different articles, I saw her eye resting so lovingly +on the little uniform, that I said, “Here, grandmother, hadn’t you +better take back these?”</p> + +<p>“O, I guess not,” she answered. “I guess you better send them. But,” she +added a moment after, “perhaps they might as well stay till you send +another barrel.”</p> + +<p>“Just exactly as well,” I said. And the old lady seemed as if she had +recovered a lost treasure.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe added a good many valuable articles, so that by the time +Uncle Jacob was ready to start I had collected two immense bundles, and +felt almost brave enough to face another barrel. For they all said they +would beg from their friends, and save things, and that I must certainly +come again.</p> + +<p>“For you know,” said Aunt Phebe, “’t is a great deal better to hear you +tell things than to read about them in the newspapers.”</p> + +<p>They stood about the door to see us off, and Matilda stroked the old +horse, and talked to him as if he understood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> She broke off two heads +of phlox, red and white, and fastened them in behind his ear. Uncle +Jacob told me, as we rode along, that the old horse really expected to +be patted and talked to before starting. And indeed I noticed myself +that after being dressed up he stepped off with an exceedingly satisfied +air, just as I have seen some little girls,—and boys too, for that +matter, and occasionally grown people.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>But it is quite time to give you the Letters. There should be more of +them, for the correspondence covers a period of about two years. ’T is +true that, after the first, William Henry did not write nearly as often. +But still there are many missing. Little Tommy cut up some into strings +of boys and girls, and at one time when grandmother wasn’t very well, +and had to hire help, the girl look some to kindle fire with. The old +lady said she was sitting up in her arm-chair, by the fireplace one day, +when she saw, in the corner, a piece of paper with writing on it, half +burnt up. She poked it out with a yardstick, and ’t was one of Billy’s +letters! Quite a number which were perfect have been omitted. This is +because that some coming between were missing; and so, as the children +say, there wouldn’t be any sense to them. Others contained mostly +private matters. Very few were dated. This is, however, of small +importance, as the Letters probably will never be brought forward to +decide a law case.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS.</h2> + + + +<p>The first letter from William Henry which has been preserved seems to +have been written a few weeks after entering his school, and when he had +begun to get acquainted with the boys. Could the letter itself be made +to appear here, with its <i>very</i> peculiar handwriting, and with all the +other distinctive marks of a boy’s first exploit on paper, it would be +found even more entertaining than when given in the printed form.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I think the school that I have come to is a very good school. We have +dumplings. I’ve tied up the pills that you gave me in case of feeling +bad, in the toe of my cotton stocking that’s lost the mate of it. The +mince pies they have here are baked without any plums being put into +them. So, please, need I say, No, I thank you, ma’am, to ’em when they +come round? If they don’t agree, shall I take the pills or the drops? Or +was it the hot flannels,—and how many?</p> + +<p>I’ve forgot about being shivery. Was it to eat roast onions? No, I guess +not. I guess it was a wet band tied round my head. Please write it down, +because you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> told me so many things I can’t remember. How can anybody +tell when anybody is sick enough to take things? You can’t think what a +great, tall man the schoolmaster is. He has got something very long to +flog us with, that bends easy, and hurts,—Q. S. So Dorry says. Q. S. is +in the abbreviations, and stands for a sufficient quantity. Dorry says +the master keeps a paint-pot in his room, and has his whiskers painted +black every morning, and his hair too, to make himself look scareful. +Dorry is one of the great boys. But Tom Cush is bigger. I don’t like Tom +Cush.</p> + +<p>I have a good many to play with; but I miss you and Towser and all of +them very much. How does my sister do? Don’t let the cow eat my +peach-tree. Dorry Baker he says that peaches don’t grow here; but he +says the cherries have peach-stones in them. In a month my birthday will +be here. How funny ’t will seem to be eleven, when I’ve been ten so +long! I don’t skip over any button-holes in the morning now; so my +jacket comes out even.</p> + +<p>Why didn’t you tell me I had a red head? But I can run faster than any +of them that are no bigger than I am, and some that are. One of the +spokes of my umbrella broke itself in two yesterday, because the wind +blew so when it rained.</p> + +<p>We learn to sing. He says I’ve a good deal of voice; but I’ve forgot +what the matter is with it. We go up and down the scale, and beat time. +The last is the best fun. The other is hard to do. But if I could only +get up, I guess ’t would be easy to come down. He thinks something ails +my ear. I thought he said I hadn’t got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> any at all. What have a feller’s +ears to do with singing, or with scaling up and down?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. Here’s a conundrum Dorry Baker made: In a race, why would the +singing-master win? Because “Time flies,” and he <i>beats time</i>.</p> + +<p>I want to see Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy, dreadfully.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>This second letter must have been pleasing to Aunt Phebe, as it shows +that William Henry was beginning to have some faint regard for his +personal appearance.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I’ve got thirty-two cents left of my spending-money. When shall I begin +to wear my new shoes every day? The soap they have here is pink. Has +father sold the bossy calf yet? There’s a boy here they call Bossy Calf, +because he cried for his mother. He has been here three days. He sleeps +with me. And every night, after he has laid his head down on the pillow, +and the lights are blown out, I begin to sing, and to scale up and down, +so the boys can’t hear him cry. Dorry Baker and three more boys sleep in +the same room that we two sleep in. When they begin to throw bootjacks +at me, to make me stop my noise, it scares him, and he leaves off +crying. I want a pair of new boots dreadfully, with red on the tops of +them, that I can tuck my trousers into and keep the mud off.</p> + +<p>One thing more the boys plague me for besides my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> head. Freckles. Dorry +held up an orange yesterday. “Can you see it?” says he. “To be sure,” +says I. “Didn’t know as you could see through ’em,” says he, meaning +freckles. Dear grandmother, I have cried once, but not in bed. For fear +of their laughing, and of the bootjacks. But away in a good place under +the trees. A shaggy dog came along and licked my face. But oh! he did +make me remember Towser, and cry all over again. But don’t tell, for I +should be ashamed. I wish the boys would like me. Freckles come thicker +in summer than they do in winter.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p028.jpg" width="448" height="301" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>If William Henry’s recipe for the prevention of spunkiness were +generally adopted, I fancy that many a boy would be seen practising the +circus performance here mentioned. It must have been “sure cure!” I well +remember the “plaguing” of my school days, and know from experience how +hard it is for a boy (or a man) always to keep his temper. The fellows +used to make fun of my name. In our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> quarrels, when there was nothing +else left to say, they would call out,—leaving off the Silas,—“Y Fry? +why not bake?” or “boil,” or “stew.” Of course to such remarks there was +no answer.</p> + +<p>It is to be regretted that so few of Grandmother’s letters were +preserved. As Billy here makes known the state of his pocket-book, we +may infer that she had been inquiring into his accounts, and perhaps +cautioning him against spending too freely.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I do what you told me. You told me to bite my lips and count ten, before +I spoke, when the boys plague me, because I’m a spunky boy. But doing it +so much makes my lips sore. So now I go head over heels sometimes, till +I’m out of breath. Then I can’t say anything.</p> + +<p>This is the account you asked me for, of all I’ve bought this week:—</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Slippery elm</td><td align='left'>1 cent.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Corn-ball</td><td align='left'>1 cent.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Gum</td><td align='left'>1 cent.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p029.jpg" width="448" height="325" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>And I swapped a whip-lash that I found for an orange that only had one +suck sucked out of it. The “Two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> Betseys,” they keep very good things to +sell. They are two old women that live in a little hut with two rooms to +it, and a ladder to go up stairs by, through a hole in the wall. One +Betsey, she is lame and keeps still, and sells the things to us sitting +down. The other Betsey, she can run, and keeps a yardstick to drive away +boys with. For they have apple-trees in their garden. But she never +touches a boy, if she does catch him. They have hens and sell eggs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<img src="images/p030.jpg" width="394" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The boys that sleep in the same room that we do wanted Benjie and me to +join together with them to buy a great confectioner’s frosted cake, and +other things. And when the lamps had been blown out, to keep awake and +light them up again, and so have a supper late at night, with the +curtains all down and the blinds shut up, when people were in bed, and +not let anybody know.</p> + +<p>But Benjie hadn’t any money. Because his father works hard for his +living,—but his uncle pays for his schooling,—and he wouldn’t if he +had. And I said I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> wouldn’t do anything so deceitful. And the more they +said you must and you shall, the more I said I wouldn’t and I shouldn’t, +and the money should blow up first.</p> + +<p>So they called me “Old Stingy” and “Pepper-corn” and “Speckled +Potatoes.” Said they’d pull my hair if ’t weren’t for burning their +fingers. Dorry was the maddest one. Said he guessed my hair was tired of +standing up, and wanted to lie down to rest.</p> + +<p>I wish you would please send me a new comb, for the large end of mine +has got all but five of the teeth broken out, and the small end can’t +get through. I can’t get it cut because the barber has raised his price. +Send quite a stout one.</p> + +<p>I have lost two of my pocket-handkerchiefs, and another one went up on +Dorry’s kite, and blew away.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I did what you told me, when I got wet. I hung my clothes round the +kitchen stove on three chairs, but the cooking girl she flung them under +the table. So now I go wrinkled, and the boys chase me to smooth out the +wrinkles. I’ve got a good many hard rubs. But I laugh too. That’s the +best way. Some of the boys play with me now, and ask me to go round with +them. Dorry hasn’t yet. Tom Cush plagues the most.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the schoolmaster comes out to see us when we are playing ball, +or jumping. To-day, when we all clapped Dorry, the schoolmaster clapped +too. Somebody told me that he likes boys. Do you believe it?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>A cat ran up the spout this morning, and jumped in the window. Dorry was +going to choke her, or drown her, for the working-girl said she licked +out the inside of a custard-pie. I asked Dorry what he would take to let +her go, and he said five cents. So I paid. For she was just like my +sister’s cat. And just as likely as not somebody’s little sister would +have cried about it. For she had a ribbon tied round her neck.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 352px;"> +<img src="images/p032.jpg" width="352" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The woman that I go to have my buttons sewed on to, is a very good +woman. She gave me a cookie with a hole in the middle, and told me to +mind and not eat the hole.</p> + +<p>Coming back, I met Benjie, and he looked so sober, I offered it to him +as quick as I could. But it almost made him cry; because, he said, his +mother made her cookies with a hole in the middle. But when he gets +acquainted, he won’t be so bashful, and he’ll feel better then.</p> + +<p>We walked away to a good place under the trees, and he talked about his +folks, and his grandmother, and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> Aunt Polly, and the two little +twins. They’ve got two cradles just like each other, and they are just +as big as each other, and just as old. They creep round on the floor, +and when one picks up anything, the other pulls it away. I wish we had +some twins. I told him things too.</p> + +<p>Kiss yourself for me.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. If you send a cake, send quite a large one. I like the kind that +Uncle Jacob does. Aunt Phebe knows.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I was going to tell you about “Gapper Skyblue.” “Gapper” means grandpa. +He wears all the time blue overalls, faded out, and a jacket like them. +That’s why they call him “Gapper Skyblue.” He’s a very poor old man. He +saws wood. We found him leaning up against a tree. Benjie and I were +together. His hair is all turned white, and his back is bent. He had +great patches on his knees. His hat was an old hat that he had given +him, and his shoes let in the mud. I wish you would please to be so good +as to send me both your old-fashioned india-rubbers, to make balls of, +as quick as holes come. Most all the boys have lost their balls. And +please to send some shoe-strings next time, for I have to tie mine up +all the time now with some white cord that I found, and it gets into +hard knots, and I have to stoop my head way down and untie ’em with my +teeth, because I cut my thumb whittling, and jammed my fingers in the +gate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>Old Gapper Skyblue’s nose is pretty long, and he looked so funny leaning +up against a tree, that I was just going to laugh. But then I remembered +what you said a real gentleman would do. That he would be polite to all +people, no matter what clothes they had on, or whether they were rich +people or poor people. He had a big basket with two covers to it, and we +offered to carry it for him.</p> + +<p>He said, “Yes, little boys, if you won’t lift up the covers.”</p> + +<p>We found ’t was pretty heavy. And I wondered what was in it, and so did +Benjie. The basket was going to “The Two Betseys.”</p> + +<p>When we had got half-way there, Dorry and Tom Cush came along, and +called out: “Hallo! there, you two. What are you lugging off so fast?”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<img src="images/p034.jpg" width="430" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>We said we didn’t know. They said, “Let’s see.” We said, “No, you can’t +see.” Then they pushed us. Gapper was a good way behind. I sat down on +one cover, and Benjie on the other, to keep them shut up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then they pulled us. I swung my arms round, and made the sand fly with +my feet, for I was just as mad as anything. Then Tom Cush hit me. So I +ran to tell Gapper to make haste. But first picked up a stone to send at +Tom Cush. But remembered about the boy that threw a stone and hit a boy, +and he died. I mean the boy that was hit. And so dropped the stone down +again and ran like lightning.</p> + +<p>“Go it, you pesky little red-headed firebug!” cried Tom Cush.</p> + +<p>“Go it, Spunkum! I’ll hold your breath,” Dorry hollered out.</p> + +<p>The dog, the shaggy dog that licked my face when I was lying under the +trees, he came along and growled and snapped at them, because they were +hurting Benjie. You see Benjie treats him well, and gives him bones. And +the master came in sight too. So they were glad to let us alone.</p> + +<p>The basket had rabbits in it. Gapper Skyblue wanted to pay us two cents +apiece. But we wouldn’t take pay. We wouldn’t be so mean.</p> + +<p>When we were going along to school, Bubby Short came and whispered to me +that Tom and Dorry were hiding my bird’s eggs in a post-hole. But I got +them again. Two broke.</p> + +<p>Bubby Short is a nice little fellow. He’s about as old as I am, but over +a head shorter and quite fat. His cheeks reach way up into his eyes. +He’s got little black eyes, and little cunning teeth, just as white as +the meat of a punkin-seed.</p> + +<p>I had to pay twenty cents of that quarter you sent, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> breaking a +square of glass. But didn’t mean to, so please excuse. I haven’t much +left.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. When punkins come, save the seeds—to roast. If you please.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>One of my elbows came through, but the woman sewed it up again. I’ve +used up both balls of my twine. And my white-handled knife,—I guess it +went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn’t know of till after the +knife was lost. My trousers grow pretty short. But she says ’t is partly +my legs getting long. I’m glad of that. And partly getting ’em wet.</p> + +<p>I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tumbled down and scraped a hole +through the knee of my oldest pair. For it was very rotten cloth. I +guess the hole is too crooked to have her sew it up again. She thinks a +mouse ran up the leg, and gnawed that hole my knife went through, to get +the crumbles in the pocket. I don’t mean when they were on me, but +hanging up.</p> + +<p>My boat is almost rigged. She says she will hem the sails if I won’t +leave any more caterpillars in my pockets. I’m getting all kinds of +caterpillars to see what kind of butterflies they make.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, Dorry and I started from the pond to run and see who would +get home first. He went one way, and I went another.</p> + +<p>I cut across the Two Betseys’ garden. But I don’t see how I did so much +hurt in just once cutting across.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> I knew something cracked,—that was +the sink-spout I jumped down on, off the fence. There was a board I hit, +that had huckleberries spread out on it to dry. They went into the +rain-water hogshead. I didn’t know any huckleberries were spread out on +that board.</p> + +<p>I meant to go between the rows, but guess I stepped on a few beans. My +wrist got hurt dreadfully by my getting myself tripped up in a +squash-vine. And while I was down there, a bumble-bee stung me on my +chin. I stepped on a little chicken, for she ran the way I thought she +wasn’t going to. I don’t remember whether I shut the gate or not. But +guess not, for the pig got in, and went to rooting before Lame Betsey +saw him, and the other Betsey had gone somewhere.</p> + +<p>I got home first, but my wrist ached, and my sting smarted. You forgot +to write down what was good for bumble-bee stings. Benjie said his Aunt +Polly put damp sand on to stings. So he put a good deal of it on my +chin, and it got better, though my wrist kept aching in the night. And I +went to school with it aching. But didn’t tell anybody but Benjie. Just +before school was done, the master said we might put away our books. +Then he talked about the Two Betseys, and told how Lame Betsey got lame +by saving a little boy’s life when the house was on fire. She jumped out +of the window with him. And he made us all feel ashamed that we great +strong boys should torment two poor women.</p> + +<p>Then he told about the damage done the day before by some boy running +through their garden, and said five dollars would hardly be enough to +pay it. “I don’t know what boy it was, but if he is present,” says he, +“I call upon him to rise.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then I stood up. I was ashamed, but I stood up. For you told me once +this saying: “Even if truth be a loaded cannon walk straight up to it.”</p> + +<p>The master ordered me not to go on to the playground for a week, nor be +out of the house in play-hours.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I was very sorry that while in the neighborhood of the Crooked Pond +school, a short time since, lack of time prevented my finding out the +Two Betseys’ shop. These worthy women, as will be seen further on, +became William Henry’s firm friends.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Lame Betsey gave me something to put on my wrist that cured it. I went +there to ask how much money must be paid. I had sold my football, and my +brass sword, and my pocket-book. They told me they should not take any +money, but if I would saw some wood for them, and do an errand now and +then, they should be very glad. When I told Dorry, he threw up his hat, +and called out, “Three cheers for the ‘Two Betseys.’” And when his hat +came down, he picked it up and passed it round; “for,” says he, “we all +owe them something.” One great boy dropped fifty cents in. And it all +came to about four dollars. And Bubby Short carried it to them. But I +shall saw some wood for them all the same.</p> + +<p>Last evening it was rainy. A good many boys came into our room, and we +sat in a row, and every one said some verses, or told a riddle. These +two verses I send for Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy to learn. I guess he’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +done saying “Fishy, fishy in the brook” by this time, Dorry said he got +them out of the German.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When you are rich,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can ride with a span;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when you are poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must go as you can.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Better honest and poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And go as you can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than rich and a rogue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ride with a span.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This riddle was too hard for me to guess. But Aunt Phebe’s girls like to +guess riddles, and I will send it to them. Mr. Augustus says that a +soldier made it in a Rebel prison. Mr. Augustus is a tall boy, that +knows a good deal, and wears spectacles, and that’s why we call him Mr. +Augustus.</p> + +<h4>RIDDLE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I’m one half a Bible command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aye and forever shall stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, throughout our beautiful land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’T is needed now to foil the traitorous band.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I’m always around,—yet they say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too often I’m out of the way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thereby leading astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’m decked in jewels fine and rich array.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Although from my heart I am stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can utter but one little word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that very seldom is heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My elder sister sometimes kept a bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reads the riddle clear to you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am very near to you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both very near and dear—to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet kept in chains. Does that seem queer to you?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That about being “stirred from the heart” is all true. So is that about +being “<i>around</i>.” The “Bible command,” spoken of at the beginning, is +only in three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> words, or two words joined by “and.” This word is the +first half. But I mustn’t tell you too much.</p> + +<p>They are all <i>dear</i>. But some kinds are dearer than others.</p> + +<p>I wish my father would send me one.</p> + +<p>That about the bird is first-rate, though I never saw one of that kind +of—I won’t say what I mean (Dorry says you mustn’t say what you mean +when you tell riddles). But maybe you’ve seen one. They used to have +them in old times.</p> + +<p>I’ve launched my boat. She’s the biggest one in school. Dorry broke a +bottle upon her, and christened her the “General Grant.” The boys gave +three cheers when she touched water, and Benjie sent up his new kite. +It’s a ripper of a kite with a great gilt star on it that’s got eight +prongs.</p> + +<p>My hat blew off, and I had to go in swimming after it. It is quite +stiff. The master was walking by, and stopped to see the launching. When +he smiles, he looks just as pleasant as anything.</p> + +<p>He patted me on my cheek, and says he, “You ought to have called her the +‘Flying Billy.’” And then he walked on.</p> + +<p>“What does ‘Flying Billy’ mean?” says I.</p> + +<p>“It means you,” said Dorry. “And it means that you run fast, and that he +likes you. If a boy can run fast, and knows his multiplication-table, +and won’t lie, he likes him.”</p> + +<p>But how can such a great man like a small boy?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>P. S. When the boys laugh at me, I laugh too. That’s a good way.</p> + +<p>P. S. There’s a man here that’s got nine puppies. If I had some money I +could buy one. The boys don’t plague me quite so much. I’m sorry you +dropped off your spectacles down the well. I suppose they sunk. I’ve got +a sneezing cold.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">W. H.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>About the spectacles, I may as well confess that I was the means of +their being lost.</p> + +<p>One day Uncle Jacob came into the office hastily, and, with a look of +distress, said to me very solemnly,—</p> + +<p>“Mr. Fry, if you can, I want you to leave everything, and ride out with +me!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! what is the matter?” I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Why,” said he, “ever since we sent out word about old clothes, they’ve +been coming in so fast the rooms are all filled up, and we don’t know +where to go!”</p> + +<p>He then went on to tell that the notice had spread into all the +neighborhoods round about, and that bundles of every description were +constantly pouring in. They were left at the back door, front door, side +door, dropped on the piazza, and in at the windows. Men riding by tossed +them into the yard, and little boys came tugging bundles, bigger than +they could lift, or dragged them in roller-carts, or wheeled them in +wheelbarrows. He said he found bundles waiting for him at the store, at +the post-office, and he could hardly ride along the street without some +woman knocking at the window, and holding up one, and beckoning with her +forefinger for him to come in after it! Even in the meeting-house +somebody took a roll of something from under a shawl and handed him! He +would have brought, the parcels, or a part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> of them, but there was every +kind of a thing sent in,—white vests and flounced lace or muslin gowns, +and open-work stockings; and some things were too poor, and some were +too nice, and his folks thought Mr. Fry should come out.</p> + +<p>So what could I do but go? And, as it happened, I could “leave +everything” just as well as not, and was glad to.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Grandmother received me in the kindest manner, gave me a pair of black +yarn stockings, asked about the contrabands, talked about Billy, read me +his letters, and, on the whole, seemed much easier in her mind +concerning him than when I saw her before.</p> + +<p>She was skimming pans of milk. With her permission I watched the +skimming, for pans of milk to a city man were a rare sight to see! I was +also given some of the cream, and a baked Summer Sweeting to eat with +it.</p> + +<p>The cream was put into a large yellow bowl, and the bowl set in a +six-quart tin pail. It was then ready to be lowered into the well; for, +as country people seldom have ice, they use the well as a refrigerator, +and it is there they keep their butter, cream, fresh meat, or anything +that is likely to spoil.</p> + +<p>“Do let me lower it down the well for you,” I said; seeing that her hand +trembled a little; and besides, I hardly thought it prudent for her to +go out, as the grass was damp, there having been quite a sprinkle of +rain.</p> + +<p>“Well, if you’ve a mind to take the trouble,” she said, as she handed me +the pail, at the same time telling me to be particular about putting +stones around the bowl, in the bottom, to steady it. She then handed me +the line, and cautioned me about hitting another pail, which was already +down the well.</p> + +<p>Just as I went out Uncle Jacob passed through the gate into the garden, +to pick his mother some beans.</p> + +<p>“Sha’ n’t I do that?” he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>“O no,” said I; “I am very glad to make myself useful.”</p> + +<p>Little Tommy stood by the well watching me, and I was talking to him and +playing with Towser, and by not attending to my business, I must have +tied a granny-knot, though I meant to tie a square one; and about +half-way down the pail slipped off, and went plump to the bottom.</p> + +<p>Little Tommy ran into the house calling out, “Grandmother! Grandmother! +that man lost your pail! Mr. Fwy let go of your pail!”</p> + +<p>Grandmother came running out and looked down. Her spectacles were tipped +up on top of her head; and when she bent over the well-curb they slipped +off, just touched the tip of her nose, and were out of sight in a +moment.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob came up laughing and said, “Of course the specs must go down +to see where the cream went to!” But Grandmother thought it was no +laughing matter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver and Uncle Jacob had a good many spells of fishing in the +well. At last Uncle Jacob was lucky enough to catch the handle of the +pail with his hook, and then he drew the pail up. It was found to be in +quite a damaged condition. The water looked creamy for some time. The +glasses never came to light. It seemed, therefore, no more than my duty +to send Grandmother another pair, which I did soon after in a bright new +six-quart pail, wishing with all my heart they were gold-bowed ones. But +I could not afford to do more than replace the lost ones.</p> + +<p>I will add that the six-quart pail was filled with the best of peaches.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The next three letters seem to have been sent at one time. Before they +reached Grandmother she had worked herself into a perfect fever of +anxiety.</p> + +<p>Owing to the rabbit affair, of which they contain the whole story, +William Henry had not felt like writing, so that, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> before his +letter was begun, they at the farm were already looking for it to +arrive. Then it took a longer time than he expected to finish up his +account of the matter; and when at last the letter was sealed and +directed, the boy who carried it to the post-office forgot his errand, +and it hung in an overcoat pocket several days. No wonder, then, the old +lady grew anxious.</p> + +<p>I was at the farm at the time they were looking for the letters, and I +really tried very hard to be entertaining; but not the funniest story I +could tell about the funniest little rollypoly contraband in the +hospital could excite more than a passing smile.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe gave me my charge before I went in.</p> + +<p>“You must be lively,” said she. “Be lively! Turn her thoughts off of +Billy! That’s the way! Though I do feel worried,” she added. “’T is a +puzzle why we don’t have letters. I’m afraid something <i>is</i> the matter, +or else it seems to me we should. He’s been very good about writing. If +anything has happened to Billy, I don’t know what we should do. ’T would +come pretty hard to Grandmother. And I do have my fears! But ’t won’t do +to let her know I worry about him. And you better be very lively! We all +have to be!”</p> + +<p>I observed that Mr. Carver, although he talked very calmly with his +mother, and urged her to rest easy, was after all not so very much at +ease himself. He sat by the window apparently reading a newspaper. But +it was plain that he only wished Grandmother to think he was reading; +for he paid but little attention to the paper, and was constantly +looking across the garden to see when Uncle Jacob should get back from +the post-office; and the moment Towser barked he folded his paper and +went out. Grandmother put on her “out-door” spectacles, and stood at the +window. When Mr. Carver returned she glanced rapidly over him with an +earnest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> beseeching look, which seemed to say that it was not possible +but that somewhere about him, in some pocket, or in his hat, or shut up +in his hand, there must be a letter.</p> + +<p>“The mail was late,” Mr. Carver said; “Uncle Jacob couldn’t wait, and +had left the boy to fetch it.”</p> + +<p>Grandmother was setting the table. In her travels to and from the +buttery she stopped often to glance up the road, and during meal-time +her eyes were constantly turning to the windows.</p> + +<p>Presently Aunt Phebe came in.</p> + +<p>“The boy didn’t bring any letters,” said she; “but I’ve been thinking it +over, and for my part I don’t think ’t is worth while to worry. No news +is good news. Bad news travels fast. A thousand things might happen to +keep a boy from writing. He might be out of paper, or out of stamps, or +out of anything to write about, or might have lessons to learn, or be +too full of play, or be kept after school, or might a good many things!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t suppose,” said Grandmother, “that—you don’t think—it +couldn’t be possible, could it, that Billy’s been punished and feels +ashamed to tell of it?”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” said Aunt Phebe. “Now don’t, Grandmother, I beg of you get +started off on that notion! Yesterday ’t was the measles. And day before +’t was being drowned, and now ’t is being punished!”</p> + +<p>“’T wouldn’t be like William not to tell of it,” said Mr. Carver.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit like him,” said Aunt Phebe.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Grandmother, “I don’t think it would. But you know when +anybody gets to thinking, they are apt to think of everything.”</p> + +<p>I told them there was a possibility of the letter being mis-sent. And +that idea reminded me of just such an anxious time we had once about +little Silas. His letter went to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> a town of the same name in Ohio, and +was a long time reaching us. I made haste to tell this to Grandmother, +and thought it comforted her a little.</p> + +<p>When I left the next morning, Mr. Carver followed me out and asked me to +make inquiries in regard to the telegraphic communication with the +Crooked Pond School, and to be in readiness to telegraph; for, in case +no letter came that day, he should send me word to do so.</p> + +<p>But no word arrived, as the next mail brought the following letters, +with their amusing illustrations.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I suppose if I should tell you I had had a whipping you would feel +sorry. Well, don’t feel sorry. I will begin at the beginning.</p> + +<p>We can’t go out evenings. But last Monday evening one of the teachers +said I might go after my overjacket that I took off to play ball, and +left hanging over a fence. It was a very light night. I had to go down a +long lane to get where it was; and when I got there, it wasn’t there. +The moon was shining bright as day. Old Gapper Skyblue lives down that +lane. He raises rabbits. He keeps them in a hen-house.</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you what some of the great boys do sometimes. They steal +eggs and roast them. There is a fireplace in Tom Cush’s room. Once they +roasted a pullet. The owners have complained so that the master said he +would flog the next boy that robbed a hen-house or an orchard, before +the whole school.</p> + +<p>Now I will go on about my overjacket. While I was looking for it I heard +a queer noise in the rabbit-house. So I jumped over. Then a boy popped +out of the rabbit-house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> and ran. I knew him in a minute, for all he ran +so fast,—Tom Cush.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/p047.jpg" width="361" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Now when he started to run, something dropped out of his hand. I went up +to it, and ’t was a rabbit, a dead one, just killed; for when I stooped +down and felt of it, it was warm. And while I was stooping down, there +came a great heavy hand down on my shoulder. It was a man’s great heavy +hand.</p> + +<p>Gapper had set a man there to watch. He hollered into my ears, “Now I’ve +got you!” I hollered, too, for he came sudden, without my hearing.</p> + +<p>“You little thief!” says he.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t kill it,” says I.</p> + +<p>“You little liar!” says he.</p> + +<p>“I’m not a liar,” says I.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take you to the master,” says he.</p> + +<p>“Take me where you want to,” says I.</p> + +<p>Then he pulled me along, and kept saying, “Who did, if you didn’t? If +you didn’t, who did?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>And he walked me straight up into the master’s room, without so much as +giving a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>“I’ve brought you a thief and a liar,” says he. Then he told where he +found me, and what a bad boy I was. Then he went away, because the +master wanted to talk with me all by myself.</p> + +<p>Now I didn’t want to tell tales of Tom, for it’s mean to tell tales. So +all I could say was that I didn’t do it.</p> + +<p>The master looked sorry. Said he was afraid I had begun to go with bad +boys. “Didn’t I see you walking in the lane with Tom Cush yesterday?” +says he. I said I was helping him find his ball. And so I was.</p> + +<p>“If you were with the boys who did this,” said he, “or helped about it +in any way, that’s just as bad.”</p> + +<p>I said I didn’t help them, or go with them.</p> + +<p>“How came you there so late?” says he.</p> + +<p>“I went after my overjacket,” says I.</p> + +<p>“And where is your overjacket?” says he.</p> + +<p>I said I didn’t know. It wasn’t there.</p> + +<p>Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the +morning.</p> + +<p>When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as +still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never +go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt. +Course, I knew ’t wouldn’t be like one of your little whippings. I +wasn’t so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being +whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you +about the next morning, and how I was waked up.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I had to leave off and jump up and run to school without stopping to +sign my name, for the bell rang. But, now school is done, I will write +another letter to send with that, because you will want to know the end +at the same time you do the beginning.</p> + +<p>It was little pebbles that waked me up the next morning,—little pebbles +dropping down on my face. I looked up to find where they came from, and +saw Tom Cush standing in the door. He was throwing them. He made signs +that he wanted to tell me something. So I got up. And while I was +getting up, I saw my overjacket on the back of a chair. I found out +afterwards that Benjie brought it in, and forgot to tell me.</p> + +<p>Tom made signs for me to go down stairs with him. He wouldn’t let me put +my shoes on. He had his in his hand, and I carried mine so. So we went +through the long entries in our stocking-feet, and sat down on the +doorstep to put our shoes on. Nobody else had got up. The sky was +growing red. I never got up so early before, except one Fourth of July, +when I didn’t go to bed, but only slept some with my head leaned down on +a window-seat, and jumped up when I heard a gun go off. Tom carried me +to a place a good ways from the house. Our shoes got soaking wet with +dew.</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you what he said to me.</p> + +<p>He asked me if I saw him anywhere the night before. I said I did.</p> + +<p>He asked me where I saw him.</p> + +<p>I said I saw him coming out of the hen-house, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> Gapper Skyblue kept +his rabbits. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was sure.</p> + +<p>“And did you tell the master?” says he.</p> + +<p>I said, “No.”</p> + +<p>“Nor the boys?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Then he told me he had been turned away from one school on account of +his bad actions, and he wouldn’t have his father hear of this for +anything; and said that, if I wouldn’t tell, he would give me a +four-bladed knife, and quite a large balloon, and show me how to send +her up, and if I was flogged he would give me a good deal more, would +give money,—would give two dollars.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he’ll whip you,” says he, “for he likes you. And if he +does, he wouldn’t whip a small boy so hard as he would a big one.”</p> + +<p>I said a little whipping would hurt a little boy just as much as a great +whipping would hurt a great boy. But I said I wouldn’t be mean enough to +tell or to take pay for not telling.</p> + +<p>He didn’t say much more. And we went towards home then. But before we +came to the house, he turned off into another path.</p> + +<p>A little while after, I heard somebody walking behind me. I looked +round, and there was the master. He’d been watching with a sick man all +night.</p> + +<p>He asked me where I had been so early. I said I had been taking a walk. +He asked who the boy was that had just left me. I said ’t was Tom Cush. +He asked if I was willing to tell what we had been talking about. I said +I would rather not tell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>Says he, “It has a bad look, your being out with that boy so early, +after what happened last night.”</p> + +<p>Then he asked me where I had found my overjacket. I said, “In my +chamber, sir, on a chair-back.”</p> + +<p>“And how came it there?” says he.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, sir,” says I.</p> + +<p>And, Grandmother, I almost cried; for everything seemed going against +me, to make me out a bad boy. I will tell the rest after supper.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you what happened that afternoon.</p> + +<p>The school was about half done.</p> + +<p>The master gave three loud raps with his ruler.</p> + +<p>This made the room very still.</p> + +<p>He asked the other teachers to come up to the platform. And they did.</p> + +<p>Next, he waved his ruler, and said, “Fold.”</p> + +<p>And we all folded our arms.</p> + +<p>It was so still that we could hear the clock tick.</p> + +<p>He told Tom Cush to close the windows and shut the blinds.</p> + +<p>Then he talked to us about stealing and telling lies. Said he didn’t +like to punish, but it must be done. He said he had reason to believe +that the boy whose name he should call out was not honest, that he took +other people’s things and told lies.</p> + +<p>Then he told the story, all that he knew about it, and said he hoped +that all concerned in it would have honor enough to speak out and own +it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nobody said anything.</p> + +<p>Then the master said, “William Henry, you may come to the platform.”</p> + +<p>I went up.</p> + +<p>Somebody way in the back part shouted out, “Don’t believe it!”</p> + +<p>“Silence!” said the master. And he thumped his ruler on the desk.</p> + +<p>Then he told me to take off my jacket, and fold it up. And I did.</p> + +<p>He told me to hand my collar and ribbon to a teacher. And I did.</p> + +<p>Then he laid down his ruler, and took his rod and bent it to see if it +was limber. It wasn’t exactly a rod. It was the thing I told you about +when I first came to this school.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 441px;"> +<img src="images/p052.jpg" width="441" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>He tried it twice on the desk first.</p> + +<p>Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> back round towards him. +He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the +neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight.</p> + +<p>At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, “Master! Master! Stop! Don’t! +He didn’t do it! He didn’t kill it! I know who! I’ll tell! I will! I +will! I don’t care what Tom Cush does! ’T was Tom Cush killed it!”</p> + +<p>The master didn’t say one word. But he handed me my jacket.</p> + +<p>The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them.</p> + +<p>Then he said to me, whispering, “Is this so, William?” And I said, low, +“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down +he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly,—it made me remember the +way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, “My dear boy,” then +stopped and began again, “My dear boy,” and stopped again. If he’d been +a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a +man wouldn’t. And what should he cry for? It wasn’t he that almost had a +whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then +Bubby Short was called up to the platform.</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it.</p> + +<p>He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of +Tom’s. ’T isn’t much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him. +That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby +Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom +telling another boy about the rabbit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he +peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a +black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and +made, when he was running.</p> + +<p>But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, +and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he +would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me.</p> + +<p>Wasn’t he a nice little fellow to tell?</p> + +<p>O, I was so glad when the boys all clapped! And when we were let out, +they came and shook hands with Bubby Short and me. Great boys and all. +Mr. Augustus, and Dorry, and all. And the master told me how glad he was +that he could keep on thinking me to be an honest boy.</p> + +<p>Now aren’t you glad you didn’t feel sorry?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The next time I went down to the farm I was told, of course, all about +the foregoing letters,—how they were received, and what effect they +produced in the family when they were read. Grandmother, however, gives +a happy account of the reception and reading of them in the following +reply, which she wrote soon after they were received.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Grandmother’s Letter to William Henry, in reply.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Little Boy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Your poor old grandmother was so glad to get those letters, after such +long waiting! My dear child, we were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> anxious; but now we are pleased. I +was afraid you were down with the measles, for they’re about. Your aunt +Phebe thinks you had ’em when you were a month old; but I know better.</p> + +<p>Your father was anxious himself at not hearing; though he didn’t show it +any. But I could see it plain enough. As soon as he brought the letters +in, I set a light in the window to let your aunt Phebe know she was +wanted. She came running across the yard, all of a breeze. You know how +your aunt Phebe always comes running in.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” says she. “Letters from Billy? I mistrusted ’t was letters +from Billy. In his own handwriting? Must have had ’em pretty light. +Measles commonly leave the eyes very bad.”</p> + +<p>But you know how your aunt Phebe goes running on. Your father came in, +and sat down in his rocking-chair,—your mother’s chair, dear. Your +sister was sewing on her doll’s cloak by the little table. She sews +remarkably well for a little girl.</p> + +<p>“Now, Phebe,” says I, “read loud, and do speak every word plain.” I put +on my glasses, and drew close up, for she does speak her words so fast. +I have to look her right in the face.</p> + +<p>At the beginning, where you speak about being whipped, your father’s +rocking-chair stopped stock still. You might have heard a pin drop. +Georgianna said, “O dear!” and down dropped the doll’s cloak. “Pshaw!” +said Aunt Phebe, “’t isn’t very likely our Billy’s been whipped.”</p> + +<p>Then she read on and on, and not one of us spoke. Your father kept his +arms folded up, and never raised his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> eyes. I had to look away, towards +the last, for I couldn’t see through my glasses. Georgianna cried. And, +when the end came, we all wiped our eyes.</p> + +<p>“Now what’s the use,” said Aunt Phebe, “for folks to cry before they’re +hurt?”</p> + +<p>“But you almost cried yourself,” said Georgianna. “Your voice was +different, and your nose is red now.” And that was true.</p> + +<p>After your sister was in bed, and Aunt Phebe gone, your father says to +me: “Grandma, the boy’s like his mother.” And he took a walk around the +place, and then went off to his bedroom without even opening his night’s +paper. If ever a man set store by his boy, that man is your father. And, +O Billy, if you had done anything mean, or disgraced yourself in any +way, what a dreadful blow ’t would have been to us all!</p> + +<p>The measles come with a cough. The first thing is to drive ’em out. Get +a nurse. That is, if you catch them. They’re a natural sickness, and one +sensible old woman is better than half a dozen doctors. Saffron’s good +to drive ’em out.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe is knitting you a comforter. As if she hadn’t family enough +of her own to do for!</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your loving<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Grandmother.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I think this the proper place to insert the following letter from Dorry +Baker to his sister. I am sorry we have so few of Dorry’s letters. Two +very entertaining ones will be given presently, describing a visit Dorry +made to William Henry’s home. The two boys, as we shall see, soon after +their acquaintance,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> grew to be remarkably good friends. Mr. Baker, +Dorry’s father, hearing his son’s glowing accounts of William Henry’s +family, took a little trip to Summer Sweeting place on purpose to see +them, and was so well pleased with Grandmother, Mr. Carver, Uncle Jacob, +and the rest, as to suggest to his wife that they should buy some land +in the vicinity, and turn farmers. He and Grandmother had a very +pleasant talk about their boys; and not long after, knowing, I suppose, +that it would gratify the old lady, he sent her some of Dorry’s letters, +that she might have the pleasure of reading for herself what Dorry had +written about her Billy, and about Billy’s people and Billy’s home. +Perhaps, too, Mr. Baker was a little bit proud of the smart letters his +son could write.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Dorry’s Letter to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis,</span>—</p> + +<p>If mother’s real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But +if it’s baking-day, or washing-day, or company’s coming off, or +preserves going on, or anything’s upset down below; or if she’s got a +headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that’s bad,—then wait.</p> + +<p>I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Saturday. Not a +very big boy,—do very well to “Philopene” with you: won’t put her out a +bit.</p> + +<p>If you don’t like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came +we used to plague him on account of his looks. He’s got a furious head +of hair, and freckles. But we don’t think at all about his looks now. If +anything, we like his looks.</p> + +<p>He’s just as pleasant and gen’rous, and not a mean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> thing about him. I +don’t believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn’t. +He’s always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give +anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat +to make their side beat. You don’t catch William Henry at any such mean +business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too.</p> + +<p>I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other +boys.</p> + +<p>One day he had a box come from home. ’T was his birthday. It was full of +good things. Says I to the boys, “Now, maybe, if we hadn’t plagued him +so, he would give us some of his goodies.”</p> + +<p>That very afternoon, when we had done playing, and ran up to brush the +mud off our trousers, we found a table all spread out with a table-cloth +that he had borrowed, and in the middle was a frosted cake with “W. H.” +on top done in red sugar. And close to that were some oranges, and a +dish full of nuts, and as much as a pound of candy, and more figs than +that, and four great cakes of maple-sugar, made on his father’s land, as +big as small johnny-cakes, and another kind of cake. And doughnuts.</p> + +<p>“Come, boys,” says he, “help yourselves.”</p> + +<p>But not a boy stirred.</p> + +<p>I felt my face a-blushing like everything. O, we were all of us just as +ashamed as we could be! We didn’t dare go near the table. But he kept +inviting us, and at last began to pass them round.</p> + +<p>And I tell you the things were tip-top and more too. Such cake! And +doughnuts, that his cousin made!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> And tarts! You must learn how. But I +don’t believe you ever could. Of course we had manners enough not to +take as much as we wanted. I want to tell you some more things about +him. But wait till I come. He’s most as old as you are, and is always a +laughing, the same as you are.</p> + +<p>Ask mother what I told you. Take her at her cleverest, and don’t eat up +all the sweet apples.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Dorry.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Put some away in meal to mellow. Don’t mellow ’em with your +knuckles.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Baker, I imagine, was not particularly fond of boys. She gave her +permission, however, for Dorry to bring a “muddy-shoed” companion home +with him, as we see by the following letter from William Henry to his +grandmother.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter from William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Dorry asked his sister to ask his mother if he might ask me to go home +with him. And she said yes; but to wait a week first, because the house +was just got ready to have a great party, and she couldn’t stand two +muddy-shoed boys. May I go?</p> + +<p>Tom Cush was sent home; but he didn’t go. His father lives in the same +town that Dorry does. He has been here to look for him.</p> + +<p>I never went to make anybody a visit. I hope you will say yes. I should +like to have some money. Everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> tells boys not to spend money; but +if they knew how many things boys want, and everything tasted so good, I +believe they would spend money themselves. Please write soon.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>To this short letter Grandmother sent at once the following reply; and +in the succeeding letters from William Henry we get a pretty good idea +of what sort of people Dorry’s folks were, and also hear something about +Tom Cush.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Grandmother’s Second Letter.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Boy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Do you have clothes enough on your bed? Ask for an extra blanket. I do +hope you will take care of yourself. When the rain beats against the +windows, I think, “Now who will see that he stands at the fire and dries +himself?” And you’re very apt to hoarse up nights. We are willing you +should go to see Dorry. Your uncle J. has been past his father’s place, +and he says there’s been a pretty sum of money laid out there. Behave +well. Wear your best clothes. Your aunt Phebe has bought a book for her +girls that tells them how to behave. It is for boys too, or for anybody. +I shall give you a little advice, and mix some of the book in with it.</p> + +<p>Never interrupt. Some children are always putting themselves forward +when grown people are talking. Put “sir” or “ma’am” to everything you +say. Make a bow when introduced. If you don’t know how, try it at a +looking-glass. Black your shoes, and toe out if you possibly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> can. I +hope you know enough to say “Thank you,” and when to say it. Take your +hat off, without fail, and step softly, and wipe your feet.</p> + +<p>Be sure and have some woman look at you before you start, to see that +you are all right. Behave properly at table. The best way will be to +watch and see how others do. But don’t stare. There is a way of looking +without seeming to look. A sideways way.</p> + +<p>Anybody with common sense will soon learn how to conduct properly; and +even if you should make a mistake, when trying to do your best, it isn’t +worth while to feel very much ashamed. <i>Wrong</i> actions are the ones to +be ashamed of. And let me say now, once for all, never be ashamed +because your father is a farmer and works with his hands. Your father’s +a man to be proud of; he is kind to the poor; he is pleasant in his +family; he is honest in his business; he reads high kind of books; he’s +a kind, noble Christian man; and Dorry’s father can’t be more than all +this, let him own as much property as he may.</p> + +<p>I mention this because young folks are apt to think a great deal more of +a man that has money.</p> + +<p>Your aunt Phebe wants to know if you won’t write home from Dorry’s, +because her Matilda wants a stamp from that post-office. If the colt +brings a very good price, you may get a very good answer to your riddle.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your loving<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Grandmother.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Take your overcoat on your arm. When you come away, bid good by, +and say that you have had a good time. If you have had,—not without.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry’s Reply.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I am here. The master let us off yesterday noon, and we got here before +supper, and this is Saturday night, and I have minded all the things +that you said. I got all ready and went down to the Two Betseys to let +some woman look at me, as you wrote. They put on both their spectacles +and looked me all over, and picked off some dirt-specks, and made me +gallus up one leg of my trousers shorter, and make some bows, and then +walk across the room slow.</p> + +<p>They thought I looked beautiful, only my hair was too long. Lame Betsey +said she used to be the beater for cutting hair, and she tied her apron +round my throat, and brought a great pair of shears out, that she used +to go a-tailoring with. The Other Betsey, she kept watch to see when +both sides looked even.</p> + +<p>Lame Betsey tried very hard. First she stood off to look, and then she +stood on again. She said her mother used to keep a quart-bowl on purpose +to cut her boys’ hairs with; she clapped it over their heads, and then +clipped all round by it even. The shears were jolly shears, only they +couldn’t stop themselves easy, and the apron had been where snuff was, +and made me sneeze in the wrong place. Says I, “If you’ll only take off +this apron, I’ll jump up and shake myself out even.” I’m so glad I’m a +boy. Aprons are horrid. So are apron-strings, Dorry says.</p> + +<p>They gave me a few peppermints, and said to be sure not to run my head +out and get it knocked off in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> cars, and not to get out till we +stopped going, and to beware of pickpockets.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 510px;"> +<img src="images/p063.jpg" width="510" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>O, we did have a jolly ride in the cars! Do you think my father would +let me be the boy that sells papers in the cars? I wish he would. I +didn’t see any pickpockets. We got out two miles before we got there. I +mean to the right station. For Dorry wanted to make his sister Maggie +think we hadn’t come.</p> + +<p>We took a short cut through the fields. Not very short. And went through +everything. My best clothes too. But I guess ’t will all rub off. There +were some boggy places.</p> + +<p>When we came out at Dorry’s house, it was in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> back yard. I said to +Dorry, “There’s your mother on the doorstep. She looks clever.”</p> + +<p>Dorry said, “She? She’s the cook. I’ll tell mother of that. No, I won’t +neither.”</p> + +<p>I suppose he saw I’d rather he wouldn’t. The cook said everybody had +gone out. Then Dorry took me into a jolly great room and left me. Three +kinds of curtains to every window! What’s the use of that? Gilt spots on +the paper, and gilt things hanging down from up above. A good many kinds +of chairs. I was going to sit down, but they kept sinking in. Everything +sinks in here. I tried three, and this made me laugh, for I seemed to +myself like the little boy that went to the bears’ house and tried their +chairs, and their beds, and their bowls of milk. Then I came to a +looking-glass big enough for the very biggest bear. I thought I would +make some bows before it, as you said. I was afraid I couldn’t make a +bow and toe out at the same time. Because it is hard to think up and +down both at once. While I was trying to, I heard a little noise, I +looked round, and—what do you think? Bears? O no. Not bears. A queen +and a princess, I thought. All over bright colors and feathers and shiny +silks. The queen—that’s Dorry’s mother you know,—couldn’t think who I +was, because they had been to the depot, and thought we hadn’t come. So +she looked at me hard, and I suppose I was very muddy. And she said, +“Were you sent of an errand here?” Before I could make up any answer, +Dorry came in. He had some cake, and he passed it round with a very +sober face. Then he introduced me, and I made quite a good bow, and +said, “Very well, I thank you, ma’am.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>I tried to pull my feet behind me, and wished I was sitting down, for +she kept looking towards them; and I wanted to sit down on the lounge, +but I was afraid ’t wouldn’t bear. She was quite glad to see Dorry. But +didn’t hug him very hard. I know why. Because she had those good things +on. Dorry’s grandmother lives here. She can’t bear to hear a door slam. +She wears her black silk dress every day. And her best cap too. ’T is a +stunner of a cap. White as anything. And a good deal of white strings to +it. Everything makes her head ache. I’d a good deal rather have you. +When boys come nigh, she puts her hand out to keep them off. This is +because she has nerves. Dorry says his mother has ’em sometimes. I like +his father. Because he talks to me some. But he’s very tired. His office +tires him. He isn’t a very big man. He doesn’t laugh any. If Maggie was +a boy she’d be jolly. She’ll fly kites, or anything, if her mother isn’t +looking. Her mother don’t seem a bit like Aunt Phebe. I don’t believe +she could lift a teakettle. Not a real one. When she catches hold of her +fork, she sticks her little finger right up in the air. She makes very +pretty bows to the company. Sinks way down, almost out of sight. She +gave us a dollar to spend; wasn’t she clever? Dorry says she likes him +tip-top. If he’ll only keep out of the way.</p> + +<p>I guess I’d rather live at our house. About every room in this house is +too good for a boy. But I tell you they have tip-top things here. Great +pictures and silver dishes! Now, I’ll tell you what I mean to do when +I’m a man. I shall have a great nice house like this, and nice things in +it. But the folks shall be like our folks. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> shall have horses, and a +good many silver dishes. And great pictures, and gilt books for children +that come a-visiting. And you shall have a blue easy-chair, and sit down +to rest.</p> + +<p>Now, maybe you’ll say, “But, Billy, Billy, where are you going to get +all these fine things?” O you silly grandmother! Don’t you remember your +own saying that you wrote down?—“What a man wants he can get, if he +tries hard enough.” Or a boy either, you said. I shall try hard enough. +There’s more to write about. But I’m sleepy. I would tell you about Tom +Cush’s father coming here, only my eyes can’t keep open. Isn’t it funny +that when you are sleepy your eyes keep shutting up and your mouth keeps +coming open? Please excuse the lines that go crooked. There’s another +gape! I guess Aunt Phebe will be tired reading all this. I’m on her +side. I mean about measles. I’d rather have ’em when I was a month old. +I suppose I was a month old once. Don’t seem as if ’t was the same one I +am now. But if I do have ’em,—there I go gaping again,—if I catch ’em, +and all the doctors do come, I’ll—O dear! There I go again. I do +believe I’m asleep—I’ll—I’ll get some natural-born old woman to drive +’em out, as you said, and good night.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I am back again, and had a good time; but came back hungry. I’ll tell +you why. The first time I sat down to table I felt bashful, and Dorry’s +mother said a great deal about my having a small appetite, and +afterwards I didn’t like to make her think it was a large one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>I guess I behaved quite well at the table. But I couldn’t look the way +you said. It made me feel squint-eyed. Once I almost laughed at table. +The day they had roast duck, it smelt nice. I thought it wouldn’t go +round, for they had company besides me; and I said, “No, I thank you, +ma’am.” Dorry whispered to me, “You must be a goose not to love duck”; +and that was when I almost laughed at table. His grandmother shook her +head at him.</p> + +<p>Now I’ll tell about Tom Cush’s father. That Saturday, when we were +eating dinner, somebody came to the front door, and inquired for us +two,—Dorry and me. It was Tom Cush’s father. He wanted to ask us about +Tom, and whether we knew anything about him. But we knew no more than he +did. He talked some with us. The next evening,—Sunday evening,—Tom +Cush’s mother sent for Dorry and me to come and see her. His father came +after us. She said they wanted to know more about what I wrote to you in +those letters.</p> + +<p>O, I don’t want ever again to go where the folks are so sober. The room +was just as still as anything, not much light burning, and great +curtains hanging way down, and she looked like a sick woman. Just as +pale! Only sometimes she stood up and walked, and then sat down again, +and leaned way forward, and asked a question, and looked into our faces +so. We didn’t know what to do. Dorry talked more than I could. Tom’s +father kept just as sober! He said to Dorry: “It is true, then, that my +boy wouldn’t own up to his own actions?” or something like that.</p> + +<p>Dorry said, “Yes, sir.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom’s father said, “And he was willing to sit still and see another boy +whipped in his place?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” Dorry said. But he didn’t say it very loud.</p> + +<p>Then they stopped asking questions, and not one of us spoke for ever so +long. O, ’t was so still! At last Dorry said, just as softly, “Can’t you +find him anywhere?” And then I said that I didn’t believe he was lost.</p> + +<p>Then Tom’s father got up from his chair and said, “Lost? That’s not it. +That’s not it. ’T is his not being honorable! ’T is his not being true! +Lost? Why, he was lost before he left the school.” Says he: “When he did +a mean thing, then he lost himself. For he lost his truth. He lost his +honor. There’s nothing left worth having when they are gone.”</p> + +<p>O, I never saw Dorry so sober as he was that night going home. And when +we went to bed, he hardly spoke a word, and didn’t throw pillows, or +anything. I shut my eyes up tight and thought about you all at home, and +Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy, and about school, and about +Bubby Short, and all the time Tom’s mother’s eyes kept looking at me +just as they did; and when I was asleep I seemed back again in that +lonesome room, and they two sitting there.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I want to tell that when I was at Dorry’s I let a little vase fall +down and break. I didn’t think it was so rotten. I felt sorry; but +didn’t say so; I didn’t know how to say it very well. I wish grown-up +folks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> would know that boys feel sorry very often when they don’t say +so, and sometimes they think about doing right, too. And mean to, but +don’t tell of it. Next time I shall tell about Bubby Short and me going +to ride in Gapper’s donkey-cart. He’s going to lend it to us. I should +like to buy them a new vase.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Benjie’s had a letter, and one twin fell down stairs.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>There is one sentence in the first paragraph of the following letter +which reminds me of a very windy day, when I was staying at Summer +Sweeting place.</p> + +<p>In returning from a walk, by a short cut across the field, I met a boy +who was running just about as fast as he could.</p> + +<p>Soon after I came to another and much smaller boy, who was not running +at all, but was sitting flat upon the ground, under a tree, and crying +with might and main. This smaller boy proved to be Tommy. On a branch of +the tree, just out of his reach, hung a broom, towards which his weeping +eyes were turned in despair. A paper of peanuts which I happened to have +soon quieted him, because, in order to crack them, he had to shut his +mouth. At the first of it, however, he went on with his crying while +picking out the meats, which so amused me that I was obliged to turn +aside and laugh.</p> + +<p>It appeared that Tommy had been riding horseback on his mother’s broom +“to see Billy,” and when he had made believe get there, he wanted to +hitch his horse. A larger boy, out of mischief, or rather in mischief, +bent down a branch of the tree, telling Tommy there was a tiptop thing +to tie up to. He helped Tommy to tie the horse to the branch, and then +ran off across the field. It is very plain what happened when the branch +sprang back to its place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>I unhitched the <i>animal</i>, and then Tommy and I mounted it, he behind me, +and away we cantered to the house, my amazing gallops causing the little +chap to laugh as loudly as he had cried.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Please to tell my sister I am much obliged to her for picking up that +old iron for me. But that old rusty fire-shovel handle, I guess that +will not do to put in again. For my father said, the last time, that he +had bought that old fire-shovel handle half a dozen times. But Aunt +Phebe’s Tommy, he pulls it out again to ride horseback on.</p> + +<p>I know a little girl just about as big as my sister, named Rosy. Maybe +that is not her name. Maybe it is, because her face is so rosy. She had +a lamb. And she’s lost it. It ate out of her hand, and it followed her. +It was a pet lamb. But it’s lost. Gapper came up to inquire about it. +Mr. Augustus wrote a notice and nailed it on to the Liberty Pole, and +then Dorry chalked out a white lamb on black pasteboard, and painted a +blue ribbon around its neck, and hung that up there too.</p> + +<p>Gapper let Bubby Short and me have his donkey-cart to go to ride in. He +kicked up when we licked him, and broke something. But a man came by and +mended it. So we didn’t get back till after dark. But the master didn’t +say anything after we told the reason why. Did you ever see a ghost? Do +you believe they can whistle? I’ll tell you what I ask such a question +for.</p> + +<p>There is an old house, and part of it is torn down, and nobody lives in +it. It is built close to where the woods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> begin. The boys say there is a +ghost in it. I’ll tell you why. They say that if anybody goes by there +whistling, something inside of that house whistles the same tune. Dorry +says it’s a jolly old ghost. Mr. Augustus thinks ’tis all very silly. +Now I’ll tell you something.</p> + +<p>The night Bubby Short and I were coming back from taking a ride in +Gapper’s donkey-cart, we tried it. We didn’t dare to lick him again, for +fear he would kick up, so we rode just as slow!—and it was a lonesome +road, but the moon was shining bright.</p> + +<p>Says Bubby Short, “Do you believe that’s the honeymoon?”</p> + +<p>“No,” says I. “That’s what shines when a man is married to his wife.”</p> + +<p>“Are you scared of ghosts?” said Bubby Short.</p> + +<p>“Can’t tell till I see one,” says I.</p> + +<p>“How far off do you suppose they can see a fellow?” says he.</p> + +<p>Says I, “I don’t know. They can see best in the dark.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think they’d hurt a fellow?” says he.</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” says I. “There’s the old house.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” says he; “I’ve been looking at it.”</p> + +<p>Says I, “Are you scared to whistle?”</p> + +<p>“Scared! No,” says he. “Let’s whistle, I say.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” says I, “you whistle first.”</p> + +<p>“No,” says he, “you whistle first.”</p> + +<p>“Let <i>him</i> whistle first,” says I.</p> + +<p>“He won’t do it. Ghosts never whistle first,” says he.</p> + +<p>I asked him who said that, and he said ’t was Dorry.</p> + +<p>Then I said, “Let’s whistle together.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>So we waited till we almost got past, and then whistled “Yankee Doodle.” +And, grandmother, it did,—it whistled it.</p> + +<p>Bubby Short whispered, “Lick him a little.”</p> + +<p>Then I whispered back, “’T won’t do to. If I do, he won’t go any.”</p> + +<p>But in a minute he began to go faster of his own accord. He heard +somebody ahead calling. It was Gapper, coming to see what the matter was +that kept us so late. Now what do you think about it?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. My boots leak. Shall I get them tapped, or get a new pair, or +throw them away, or else keep the legs to make new boots of?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Here we have William Henry trying his hand at story-telling.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Sometimes Dorry writes stories in his letters for his sister, just as he +tells them to her, talking, at home. Now I’ll write one for my sister, +and I’ll call it by a name. I’ll call it</p> + + +<h4>THE STORY OF THE GREAT STORM.</h4> + +<p>Once there was a little boy named Billy, and Gapper lent him his donkey +to go ride. That’s me, you know. Next day Gapper came and said, “You +boys lost my whip.” Now I remembered having the whip when we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> crept in +among the bushes,—for we got sight of a woodchuck, and came near +finding his hole. So when school was done at noon, I asked leave to put +some bread and meat in my pocket, instead of eating any dinner, and go +to look for Gapper’s whip. And he said I might. ’T was two miles off. +But I found it. And I dug for a good deal of saxifax-root. And picked +lots of boxberry-plums.</p> + +<p>And I never noticed how the sky looked, till I heard a noise something +like thunder. It was very much like thunder. Almost just like it. I +thought it was thunder. Only it sounded a great ways off. I was walking +along slow, snapping my whip and eating my dinner, for I thought I +wouldn’t hurry for thunder, when something hard dropped down close to +me. Then another dropped,—and then another. And they kept dropping. I +picked one up and found they were hailstones, and they were bigger than +bullets.</p> + +<p>It kept growing dark, and the hailstones came thicker, and hit me in the +face. Then they began to pour right down, and I ran. They beat upon me +just like a driving storm all of sharp stones. The horses and cows cut +across the fields like mad. The horses flung up their heads. I was +almost to that old house and ran for that, and kicked the door through +to get in, for I thought I should be killed with the hail. The shingles +off the roof were flying about; and when I got inside, ’t was awful. I +thought to be sure the roof would be beat in. Such a noise! It sounded +just exactly as if a hundred cartloads of stones were being tipped up on +to the roof. And then the window-glass! It was worse than being out +doors, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> the window-glass was flying criss-cross about the room, like +fury, all mixed up with the hail. I crouched down all in a bunch and put +my arms over my head, and so tried to save myself. But then I spied a +closet door a crack open, and I jumped in there. And there I sat all +bent over with my hands up to my ears, and thought, O, what would become +of me if the old house should go? And now the strangest part is coming. +You see ’t was a pretty deep closet—School-bell! I didn’t think ’t was +half time for that to ding. I’ll tell the rest next time. Should you +care if I brought home Dorry to make a visit? He wants to bad. ’T would +be jolly if Bubby Short went too.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Everybody’s been setting glass. Counting the house and the school-house, +and the panes set over the barn door, and four squares in the hen-house, +we had to set four hundred and twenty-three squares. The express-man has +brought loads and loads. All the great boys helped set. We slept one +night with bedquilts and rugs hung up to the windows. The master tried +to shut his blind in the storm, but the hail drove him in, and he +couldn’t even shut down his window again. A rich man has given to the +Two Betseys better windows than they had before. Now I will tell about +my being in that closet.</p> + +<p>When it began to grow stiller, I took my hands down from my ears, and +one hand when it came down touched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> something soft. Quite soft and warm. +I jumped off from it in a hurry. Then I heard a kind of bleating noise, +and a little faint “ba’a ba’a.” But now comes the very strangest part. +Farther back in the closet I heard somebody move, somebody step. I was +scared, and gave the door a push, to let the light in. Now who do you +think was there? Aunt Phebe must stop reading and let you guess. But +maybe you’re reading yourself. Then stop and guess. ’T wasn’t a ghost. +’T wasn’t a man. ’T wasn’t a woman. ’T was Tom Cush! and Rosy’s lamb!</p> + +<p>Says he, “William Henry!” Says I, “Tom!” Then we walked out into the +room, and O, what a sight! Says I, “I thought ’t was going to be the end +of the old house.”</p> + +<p>Says Tom, “I thought ’t was going to be the end of the world.”</p> + +<p>In the corners the hailstones were heaped up in great banks. You might +have shovelled up barrels full. Most of them were the size of bird’s +eggs. But some were bigger. Then we looked out doors. The ground was all +white, and drifts in every cornering place, and the leaves stripped off +the trees. Then we looked at one another, and he was just as pale as +anything. He leaned against the wall, and I guessed he was crying. To +see such a great boy crying seemed most as bad as the hailstorm. Maybe +he didn’t cry. When he turned his head round again, says he: “Billy, I’m +sick, and what shall I do?”</p> + +<p>“Go home,” says I.</p> + +<p>“No,” says he, “I won’t go home. And if you let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> ’em know, I’ll—” And +then he picked up Gapper’s whip,—“I’ll flog you.”</p> + +<p>“Flog away,” says I; “maybe I shall, and maybe I sha’ n’t.”</p> + +<p>He dropped the whip down, and says he, “Billy, I sha’ n’t ever touch +you. But they mustn’t know till I’m gone to sea.”</p> + +<p>I asked him when he was going. And he told me all about it.</p> + +<p>When he was sent away from school, he went into town and inquired about +the wharves for a chance to go, and got one, and came back to get some +things he left hid in the old house, and to wait till ’t was time to go. +He sold his watch, and bought a great bag full of hard bread and cheese +and cakes.</p> + +<p>He was mad at Gapper for setting a man to watch, and so he took Rosy’s +lamb. He was going to kill it. And then skin it. But he couldn’t do it. +It licked his hand, and looked up so sorryful, he couldn’t do it. And +when he cut his foot—he cut it chopping something. That’s why he stayed +there so long. And he was the ghost that whistled. He knew the fellows +wouldn’t go in to see what it was that whistled. And he ate up most all +his things, and tied a string to the lamb, and let it out nights to eat +grass, and then pulled it in again.</p> + +<p>I wouldn’t have stayed there so for anything. He went into town three +times, nights, to get victuals to eat. I don’t see what he wants to be +such a kind of a boy for. He says he means to go to sea, and if ever +he’s good he’s going home. I told him about his father and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> mother, and +he walked while I was talking, and kept his back towards me. I asked him +what ailed him, and he said ’t was partly cutting him, and partly +sleeping cold nights, and partly the crackers and cheese. I gave him the +rest of my meat, and he was glad enough.</p> + +<p>He said he was ashamed to go home.</p> + +<p>Now I have got to the end of another sheet of paper. I wish I hadn’t +begun to tell my sister this story. It takes so long. And I want every +minute of the time to play in. For ’t is getting a little cooler, and a +fellow can stand it to run some. The master says it’s good weather for +studying. Dorry says he never saw any weather yet good enough for +studying. I shall write a very short letter next time, to tell the rest +of it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I forgot to put this letter in the office. I guess I will not +write any more letters till I go home. I was going to tell more, but I +can do it better talking. I went to see Tom Cush the next day, and he +had gone. Rosy’s got her lamb back again. But her flower-garden was +killed by the hail. Not one leaf left. She found her lamb on the +doorstep, waiting to get in.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>We have next a letter from Aunt Phebe, a dear, good-hearted woman, who +took almost a mother’s interest in William Henry. Indeed, I have heard +her remark, that she hardly knew any difference between her feelings for +him and for her own children.</p> + +<p>Some of her letters will be found to contain good advice, given in a +very amusing way.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Letter from Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>You rogue, you! I meant to have written before. You’ve frightened us all +to pieces with your ghost that wasn’t a ghost, and your whipping that +wasn’t a whipping, and your measles that you didn’t have. Grandmother +may talk, but she’s losing her memory. You were red as a beet with ’em. +As if I didn’t carry you about all night and go to sleep walking!</p> + +<p>Grandmother says, “Yes, indeed! bring Dorry, and let him stay a week if +he wants to.” Bless her soul! She’ll always keep her welcome warm, so +never mind her memory. And Bubby Short, too. Pray bring Bubby Short. I +want to see his black eyes shine. Don’t Benjie want to come? I’ve got +beds enough, and girls enough to work, and a great batch of poor +mince-pies that I want eaten up. Don’t see how I came to make such a +miss in my pies this baking. Your uncle J. thinks I skinched on plums. +There never was such a man for plums. I do believe if they were put into +his biscuits he’d think he’d got no more than his rights.</p> + +<p>Your uncle J. says: “Tell the boys to come on. I’ve got apples to +gather, and husking to do.” They’d better bring some old clothes to +wear. This is such a tearing place. I’ve put my Tommy into jacket and +trousers. He used to hitch his clothes upon every rail. Such a climber! +I don’t know what that boy’ll be when he grows up.</p> + +<p>I send you a good warm comforter, knit in stripes; and all the family +are knit into it, especially Tommy. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> pink stripes are his good-boy +days, and the black ones are his naughty actions. I showed him where I +knit ’em in. That clouded gray and black stripe is for my two great +girls quarrelling together about whose work ’t was to do some little +trifle. I told ’em they should be knit in, big as they are, if they +couldn’t behave and be accommodating. That bright red stripe is for +Hannah Jane’s school report, all perfect. That blue stripe is for your +sister Georgianna when she made a sheet. It matches her eyes as near as +I could get the yarn. My blue dye is weak this fall. Indigo is high. +Your uncle J. says it’s on account of the Rebs feeling so blue. That +gray stripe, dotted with yellow, means a funny crying spell Tommy had at +table. I came home, and there he sat in his high chair, with his two +hands on the arms of it, his mouth wide open, eyes shut, and the tears +streaming down, making the dolefullest noise,—“O-oh, a-ah; o-oh, a-ah.” +Lucy Maria said he’d been going on in that strain almost half an hour, +because we didn’t have mince-meat for supper. That green stripe is for +the day we all took the hay-cart and went to ride in the woods. The +orange-colored one is for the box of oranges your uncle J. fetched home. +“A waste of money,” says I. “Please the children,” says he; “and the +peel will save spice.” Makes me laugh when your uncle J. sets out to +save. My girls and Tommy have got the very best of fathers, only they +don’t realize it. But young folks can’t realize. The pale rose-colored +stripe is for the travelling doctor’s curing your grandmother’s +rheumatics, and promising she never should have another touch of ’em if +she was careful. The dark red stripe is for the red cow’s getting choked +to death with a turnip.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> She was a prime butter cow. Any man but your +uncle J. would look sober for a month about it. But he says, “O, there’s +butter enough in the world, Phebe. And the calf will soon be a cow on +its own hook.” That’s your uncle J.</p> + +<p>The plain dark purple stripe is for my Matilda’s speaking +disrespectfully to grandmother. She was sorry enough afterwards, but I +told her it should go in. That bright yellow stripe is for the day your +father went to market and got such a great price for his colt. The +bright fringe, mixed colors, is for us all in both houses, when we got +news of your coming home, and felt so glad. There’s a stitch dropped in +one place. That may go for a tear-drop,—a tear of mine, dear, if you +please. Do you think we grown-up women, we jolly, busy women, never shed +tears? O, but we do sometimes, in an out-of-the-way corner, or when the +children are all gone to school, or everybody is in bed. Bitterer tears +they are, Billy, than boys’ tears. One more stripe, that plain white one +in the centre, is for the little Tommy that died. I couldn’t bear to +leave him out, Billy. He had such little loving ways. You don’t remember +him.</p> + +<p>There’s your uncle J.’s whistle. He always whistles when he gets to the +bars, to let me know it’s time to begin to take up dinner.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your loving<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Phebe.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I will insert here two of Dorry Baker’s letters to his sister. When they +were written Dorry and Bubby Short were making William Henry a visit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<h4><i>Dorry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis,</span>—</p> + +<p>Who’s been giving you an inch, that you take so many “l’s”? Or is father +putting an “L” to his house, or some great “LL. D.” been dining there, +or what is the matter, that about every “l” in your letter comes double? +I wouldn’t spell “painful” with two “l’s” if the pain was ever so bad. +But I know. You are thinking about Billy and the good times we are +having. Aunt Phebe says you might have come too, just as well as not; +for her family is so big, three or four more don’t make a mite of +difference.</p> + +<p>We got here last night. Billy’s grandmother’s a brick. She took Billy +right in her arms, and I do believe she cried for being glad, behind her +spectacles. His sister is full as pretty as you. Billy brought her a +round comb. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy’s as fat as butter. He sat and +sucked his thumb and stared, till Billy held out a whistle to him, and +then he walked up and took it, as sober as a judge.</p> + +<p>“And I’ve brought you something, Grandmother,” says Billy.</p> + +<p>He went out and brought in a bandbox tied up. I wondered, coming in the +cars, what he had got tied up in that bandbox. He out with his +jack-knife, and cut the strings, and took out—have you guessed yet? Of +course you haven’t,—took out a new cap like grandma’s. He stuck his +fist in it, and turned it round and round, to let her see it.</p> + +<p>“Now sit down,” says he, “and we’ll try it on.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>She wouldn’t, but he made her.</p> + +<p>“Come here, Dorry,” says he, “and see which is the front side of this.”</p> + +<p>When her old cap was pulled off, there was her gray hair all soft and +crinkly. He got the cap part way on.</p> + +<p>“You tip it down too much,” says I.</p> + +<p>“We’ll turn it round,” says he.</p> + +<p>“’T is upside down,” said Billy’s father.</p> + +<p>“Now ’t is one-sided,” says Uncle J., “like the colt’s blinders.”</p> + +<p>“’T was never meant for my head,” says Grandmother.</p> + +<p>“Send for Phebe,” says Uncle J.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 511px;"> +<img src="images/p082.jpg" width="511" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>But “Phebe” was coming. There was a great chattering outside, and the +door opened, and in came Aunt Phebe, laughing, and her three great girls +laughing too, with their red cheeks, and their great braids of hair tied +up in red bow-knots of ribbon. And they all went to kissing Billy.</p> + +<p>And then says Aunt Phebe, “What in the world are you doing to your +grandmother? A regular milliner’s cap, if I breathe! Well done, +Grandmother! Here, let me give it a twist. It’s hind side before. What +do boys know? or men either? What are all these kinds of strings for?”</p> + +<p>“The great ones to hang down, and the little ones to tie up,” says +Billy.</p> + +<p>The girls stood by to pick the bows apart, and fuzz up the ruffles where +they were smashed in; and Billy’s father and Uncle Jacob, they sat and +laughed.</p> + +<p>Grandmother couldn’t help herself, but she kept saying, “Now, Phebe! +now, girls! now, Billy!”</p> + +<p>“And now, grandmother!” says Aunt Phebe. “There! fold your hands +together. Don’t lean back hard, ’t will jam easy. Now see, girls! Isn’t +she a beauty?” And, Maggie, I do believe she’s the prettiest grandmother +there is going. Her face is just as round and smiling!</p> + +<p>“Now sit still, Grandmother,” said Aunt Phebe. And she winked to the +girls, and they whisked two tables up together, spread on the cloth, set +on the dishes; then out into the entry, and brought in great loaves of +plum-cake, and pies and doughnuts, and set out the table,—all done +while you’d be tying your shoe. Then they set a row of lights along the +middle, and we all sat round,—Grandmother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> at the head, and Aunt +Phebe’s little Tommy in his high chair; and I’ll tell you what, if these +are poor mince-pies, I hope I shall never see any good ones.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you have some fried eggs?” said Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>“Now did anybody ever hear the like?” said Aunt Phebe. “Fried eggs! when +they’re shedding their feathers, and it takes seventy-six fowls to lay a +dozen, and every egg is worth its weight in currency! Better ask why we +don’t have cranberry sauce!”</p> + +<p>“There!” says Uncle J. “I declare, if I didn’t forget that errand, after +all!”</p> + +<p>“When I told you to keep saying over ‘Cranberries, cranberries,’ all the +way going along!” says Aunt Phebe.</p> + +<p>“They would ’a’ set my teeth on edge before I got to Ne’miah’s corner,” +said Uncle J. “The very thoughts of ’em is enough. Lucy Maria, please to +pass that frosted cake. I declare, I’m sorry I forgot that errand.”</p> + +<p>For all we were so hungry, there was a great deal left, and I was glad +to see it going into Billy’s buttery. Billy says it’s just like his aunt +Phebe to come to supper, and make that an excuse to bring enough to last +a week, to save Grandmother steps.</p> + +<p>I do like to stay where folks are jolly. They keep me a-laughing; and as +for Bubby Short, his little black eyes have settled themselves into a +twinkle, and there they stay. I never had such a good time in my life.</p> + +<p> +From your same old brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dorry.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>P. S. We have got good times enough planned out to last a month. Uncle +J. says we may have his old horse, and Young Gray, and Dobbin, and the +cow too, if we want, to ride horseback on, or tackle up into anything we +can find, from a hay-cart to a wheelbarrow. I shall want to write, but +sha’ n’t. There’ll be no time. When I get home, I’ll talk a week.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Love to all inquiring friends.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Maggie could have formed but little idea of the nature of the offer +mentioned in Dorry’s postscript, because she had never, at that time, +stood on the spot and seen with her own eyes all the “wheel-ed things” +that were to be seen in Uncle Jacob’s back-yard.</p> + +<p>How gladly would I, if space permitted, go into a minute description of +that roomy enclosure, with its farming implements, garden tools, cattle, +pump, fowls, watering-trough, grindstone, woodpile, haystack, etc., and +carryalls, carts, wagons, wheelbarrows, roller-carts, and tip-carts, +some in good repair, others very far out of it! “Entertainment for man +and beast” might truly have been written over the entrance!</p> + +<p>Mother Delight (an old nurse-woman) once remarked of Uncle Jacob, that +he was a very <i>buying man</i>. This was a true remark, and yet he never +bought without a reason. For instance, if Quorm (a Corry Pond Indian) +brought bushel-baskets along to sell, Uncle Jacob took one, not because +he had not bushel-baskets enough, but to encourage Quorm. And if Old +Pete Brale wanted to let Uncle Jacob have an infirm, rickety wagon, and +take his pay in potatoes, Uncle Jacob traded, that Pete Brale might be +kept from starvation. And so of other things.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined, therefore, that as time went on all manner of +vehicles were there gathered together. Some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> these were in good +running order, while others had been bought partly with a view to their +being repaired and sold at a profit. The expression on Aunt Phebe’s face +when Uncle Jacob brought home an addition to his interesting collection +was very striking. I remember particularly observing this at the coming +into harbor of a rattling, shackly, green-bottomed carryall, which had a +door at the back, and seats running lengthwise. It formerly belonged to +some person who, having then a large family of small children to get to +meeting, contrived a conveyance which would take in and discharge again +the greatest number with the least trouble.</p> + +<p>In this odd vehicle, which had been run under an overhanging apple-tree, +I often sat through the summer afternoon, now reading my book, now +watching the animal life about me, gaining useful knowledge from both. +Sometimes, when feeling like a boy again,—as I often did and do +feel,—I would amuse myself with playing <i>go to ride</i> in a comical old +chaise. It was set high, and pitched forward, the lining was ragged, the +back “light” gone, the stuffing running out of the cushions; yet there I +liked to sit, and “ride,” and joggle up and down, as in the happy days +of boyhood. But not, as in those happy days, “hard as I could,” for +reasons easy to guess.</p> + +<p>I trust no one will imagine that spacious yard to have been merely a +sort of safe anchorage, where all manner of disabled craft might run in +for shelter! Lest any words of mine should imply this, or seem to cast +blame on Uncle Jacob, let me hasten to say that he really required a +variety of “wheel-ed things” to carry on his business.</p> + +<p>Neither of the Mr. Carvers got their living wholly, or even chiefly, by +farming. They drew wood from lots owned by themselves, or by others, and +used their teams in any way, according as employment was offered them. +Thus heavy carts were wanted for heavy work, and light carts for light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +work, besides carryalls for dry and for rainy weather, and riding +wagons, because they were handy.</p> + +<p>For all the Summer Sweeting folks were hard workers, they knew how to +get up a good time, and enjoyed it too, as we shall see by the account +of one which Dorry gives in the following letter:—</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Dorry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis,</span>—</p> + +<p>O, we’ve hurrahed and hurrahed and hurrahed ourselves hoarse! Such a +bully time! You’d better believe the old horses went some! And that +hay-cart went rattle and bump, rattle and thump,—seemed as if we should +jolt to pieces! But I’ve counted myself all over, and believe I’m all +here! Bubby Short’s throat is so sore that all he can do is to lie flat +on the floor and wink his eyes. You see we cheered at every house, and +they came running to their windows, and some cheered back again, and +some waved and some laughed, and all of them stared. But part of the way +was through the woods.</p> + +<p>This morning Billy and Bubby Short and I went over to Aunt Phebe’s of an +errand, to borrow a cup of dough. I wish mother could see how her stove +shines! And while we were sitting down there, having some fun with Aunt +Phebe’s little Tommy, Uncle Jacob came in and said, “Mother, let’s go +somewhere.”</p> + +<p>She said, “Thank you! thank you! we shall be very happy to accept your +invitation. Girls, your father has given us an invitation! Boys, he +means you too!”</p> + +<p>“But you can’t go,—can you?” Uncle Jacob cried out, and made believe he +didn’t know what to make of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> it. O, he’s such a droll man! “I thought +you couldn’t leave the ironing,” says he.</p> + +<p>“O yes, we can!” Hannah Jane said; and “O yes, we can!” they all cried +out.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe said it would be entirely convenient, and told her girls to +shake out the sprinkled clothes to dry.</p> + +<p>“O, now,” said Uncle Jacob, “who’d have thought of your saying ‘yes.’ I +expected you couldn’t leave.”</p> + +<p>Then they kept on talking and laughing. O, they are all so funny here! +Uncle Jacob tried to get off without going; but at last he said, “Well, +boys, we must catch Old Major.”</p> + +<p>That’s the old gray horse, you know. And we were long enough about it. +For, just as we got him into a corner, he’d up heels, and away he’d go. +And once he slapped his tail right in my face. But after a while we got +him into the barn.</p> + +<p>Then pretty soon Uncle Jacob put on a long face, and looked very sober, +and put his head in at the back kitchen door, and said he guessed we +should have to give up going, after all, for the mate to Old Major had +got to be shod, and the blacksmith had gone away.</p> + +<p>“Harness in the colt, then,” Aunt Phebe said. “No matter about their +matching, if we only get there!”</p> + +<p>That colt is about twenty years old. He’s black, and short, and takes +little stubby steps; and he’s got a shaggy mane, that goes flop, flop, +flop every step he takes. But Old Major is bony, and has a long neck, +like the nose of a tunnel. Such a span as they made! What would my +mother say to see that span!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were harnessed in to the hay-cart. A hay-cart is a long cart that +has stakes stuck in all round it. We put boards across for benches. Aunt +Phebe brought out a whole armful of quite small flags, that they had +Independent Day, and we tied one to the end of every stake.</p> + +<p>Such a jolly time as we did have getting aboard! First all the baskets +and pails full of cake and pies were stowed away under the benches, and +jugs of water, and bottles of milk, and a hatchet, and some boiled eggs, +and apples and pears. Then uncle called out, “Come! where is everybody? +Tumble in! tumble in! Where’s little Tommy?”</p> + +<p>Then we began to look about and to call “Tommy!” “Tommy!” “Tommy!” At +last Bubby Short said, “There he is, up there!” We all looked up, and +saw Tommy’s face part way through a broken square of glass—I mean where +the glass was broken out. He said he couldn’t “tum down, betause the +<i>roosted</i> was on his feets.” You see, he’d got his feet tangled up in +Lucy Maria’s worsteds.</p> + +<p>“O dear!” Lucy Maria said; “all that shaded pink!”</p> + +<p>When they brought him down, Uncle Jacob looked very sober, and said, +“Why, Tommy! Did you get into all that shaded pink?”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t get in <i>all</i> of it,” said Tommy. Then he told us he was taking +down the “gimmerlut to blower a hole with.” Next he began to cry for his +new hat; and when he got his new hat, he began to cry for a posy to be +stuck in it. That little fellow never will go anywhere without a flower +stuck in his hat. Aunt Phebe says his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> grandmother began that notion +when her damask rosebush was in bloom.</p> + +<p>After we were all aboard, Uncle Jacob brought out the teakettle, and +slung it on behind with a rope. He said maybe mother would want a cup of +tea. Then they laughed at him, for he is the tea-drinker himself. Next +he brought out a long pan.</p> + +<p>“Now that’s my cookie-pan!” Aunt Phebe said. “You don’t cook clams in my +cookie-pan!”</p> + +<p>He made believe he was terribly afraid of Aunt Phebe, and trotted back +with it just like a little boy, and then came bringing out an old +sheet-iron fireboard.</p> + +<p>“Is this anybody’s cookie-pan?” said he, then stowed it away in the +bottom of the cart. Bubby Short wanted to know what that was for.</p> + +<p>“That’s for the clams,” Uncle Jacob said.</p> + +<p>But we couldn’t tell whether he meant so. We never can tell whether +Uncle Jacob is funning or not. I haven’t told you yet where we were +bound. We were bound to the shore. That’s about six miles off. The last +thing that Uncle Jacob brought out was a stick that had strips of paper +tied to the end of it.</p> + +<p>“That’s my flyflapper!” Aunt Phebe said. “What are you going to do with +my flyflapper?”</p> + +<p>He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy’s face. Tommy is a +tip-top little chap; but he’s apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to +drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and +then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he +fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the +snarls off his face, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> say, “There they go! Pick ’em up! pick ’em +up!” And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the +back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and +they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But +first he stood on his head, for ’t was quite a sandy place. I drove part +of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn’t hurrah any going. Some men +that we met would laugh and call out, “What’ll you take for your span?” +And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, “How are +<i>you</i>, teakettle?” I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that +ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw +Billy’s father coming, bringing Billy’s grandmother in a horse and +chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn’t +come.</p> + +<p>When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for +there wasn’t a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to +us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I +carried the bucket. Isn’t it funny that clams live in the mud? How do +you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle +Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the +mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon +got the bucket full.</p> + +<p>Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up +sticks and bits of boards. “Bring them where you see a smoke rising,” +says he.</p> + +<p>O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet! +Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> a good way, and put his iron +fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams +on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of +anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard!</p> + +<p>And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the +teakettle, and made a fire under it,—to make a cup of tea for mother, +he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the +teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side +where the wind wouldn’t blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy’s +grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions, +and shawls all over her, and Billy’s father read things out of the +newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn’t +work.</p> + +<p>It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter +the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed +round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to +have shingles. You’d better believe those clams tasted good! Then all +the other things were passed round. O, I don’t believe any other woman +can make things as good as Aunt Phebe’s! Georgianna had a frosted +plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle +Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked +Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,—a great deal +better than Aunt Phebe’s girls. Then Georgianna would say, “O, I know +you! you want my frosted cake!” Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips +together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps +every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> body a-laughing, even Billy’s grandmother. He was just as clever +to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,—Aunt Phebe +don’t carry her good dishes, they get broken so,—and shocked out the +clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you’ll get +a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. ’T was fun +to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little +pools of water. And I found lots of <i>blanc-mange</i> moss. We boys ran ever +so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn’t very cold.</p> + +<p>When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart +pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand, +and blew it off on the water. Billy said, “Now the fishes can have a +pocket-handkerchief.” And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been +in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got ’em sopping wet. +Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the +shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave +us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle +Jacob hadn’t any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his +arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the +boat clapped.</p> + +<p>O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and +rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped +squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live +fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I +suppose you don’t believe that! But it’s true,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> for I’ve seen them. In +the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don’t go to work and +build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees, +and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to +go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny, +something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And +every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a +real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my +squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got +quite close up,—near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to +run!</p> + +<p>Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a +house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to +their windows to look, for there isn’t much travelling on that road. O, +I’m so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I’m sorry we’ve got home, I +wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over +at Aunt Phebe’s. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us +to come over. Bubby Short’s jumped up. He says his throat feels better +now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, +sis. This letter is from your</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Brother Dorry.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I remember what they were clapping about. It happened that I came out +from the city that day. The weather was so fine, I felt as if I must +take one more look at the country, before winter came and spoiled every +bright leaf and flower. I think the flowers and leaves seem very +precious in the fall, when we know frost is waiting to kill them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was quite a disappointment to find the people all gone, and I was +glad enough when at last the old hay-cart came rattling down the lane. +Such a jolly set as they were! I jumped them out at the back of the +cart.</p> + +<p>That little Tommy was always such a funny chap. Just like his father for +all the world. When the girls took their things off, he got himself into +an old sack, and then tied on one of his mother’s checked aprons, and +began to parade round. When Lucy Maria saw him she took him up stairs +and put more things on him, and dressed him up for Mother Goose. I don’t +know when I’ve seen anything so droll. They put skirts on him, till they +made him look like a little fat old woman. He had a black silk +handkerchief pinned over his shoulders, and a ruffle round his neck, and +an old-fashioned, high-crowned nightcap on. Then spectacles. They put a +peaked piece of dough on the end of his nose, to make it look like a +hooked nose, and then set him down in the arm-chair. He kept sober as a +judge. Bubby Short laughed till he tumbled down and rolled himself +across the floor. Lucy Maria sent us out of the room to see something in +the yard, and when we came back, there was a little old man with his hat +on, and a cane, sitting opposite Mother Goose. He was made of a +stuffed-out overcoat, trousers with sticks of wood in them, and boots. +“That is Father Goose,” Lucy Maria said. Then Bubby Short had to tumble +down again; and this time he rolled way through the entry, out on the +doorstep!</p> + +<p>Then came such a pleasant evening! Aunt Phebe said ’t was a pity for +Grandmother to go to getting supper, they might as well all come over. +Where anybody had to boil the teakettle and set the table, half a dozen +more or less didn’t matter much.</p> + +<p>So we all ate supper together, and it seemed to me I never did get into +such a jolly set! Uncle Jacob and Aunt Phebe were so funny that we could +hardly eat. And in the evening—But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> ’t is no use. If I begin to tell, +and tell all I want to, there won’t be any room left for the letters.</p> + + +<p>Now comes quite a gap in the correspondence. There must have been many +letters written about this time, which were, unfortunately not +preserved. The next in order I find to be a short epistle from Bubby +Short, written, it would seem, soon after the winter holidays.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter from Bubby Short.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>My mother is all the one that I ever wrote a letter to before. So excuse +poor writing, and this pen isn’t a very good pen to write with I bet. I +am very sorry that you can’t come back quite yet. I hope that it won’t +be a fever that you are going to have. Does your grandma think that ’t +is going to be a fever? Do you take bitter medicine? I never had a +fever. I take little pills every time I have anything. My mother likes +little pills best now. But she used to make me take bitter stuff. Once +she put it in my mouth and I wouldn’t swallow it down. Then she pinched +my nose together and it made me swallow it down. Once I ate up all the +little pills out of the bottle, and she was very scared about it. It +wasn’t very full. But the doctor said that it wouldn’t hurt me any if I +did eat them. How many presents did you have? I had five. Dorry he says +he hopes that it won’t be a slow fever that you are going to have if you +do have any fever, for he wants you to hurry and come back. Some new +fellows have come. One is a tip-top one. And one good “pitcher.” I hope +you will come back very soon, ’cause I like you very much.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Do you know who ’t is writing? I am that one all you fellers call</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Bubby Short.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>As may be gathered from the foregoing letter, William Henry did not go +back to school with the rest. He was taken ill just at the close of +vacation, and remained at home until spring. Grandmother said it was +such a comfort that it didn’t happen away. And it seemed to me that this +thought really made her enjoy his being sick at home.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the people at Summer Sweeting place seemed ready to get +enjoyment from everything, even from gruel, which is usually considered +flat. I passed a day there at a time when William Henry was subsisting +on this very simple but wholesome food. Aunt Phebe and Uncle Jacob came +in to take tea at grandmother’s. The old lady was bringing out her nice +things to set on the table, when Aunt Phebe said suddenly, I suppose +seeing a hungry look in Billy’s eyes. She said,—</p> + +<p>“Now, Grandmother, I wouldn’t bring those out. Let’s have a gruel +supper, and all fare alike! We’ll make it in different ways,—milk +porridge, oatmeal, corn-starch,—and I think ’t will be a pleasant +change.”</p> + +<p>“Gruel is very nourishing, well made,” said Grandmother; “but what will +Mr. Fry say?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Fry will say,” I answered, “that milk porridge, with Boston +crackers, is a dish fit for a king.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid Jacob won’t think he’s been to supper,” said Grandmother.</p> + +<p>“O yes,” said Uncle Jacob, “I’ll think I have at any rate. But I like +mine the way the man in the moon did his, or part of the way.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Aunt Phebe, “I understand! The last part—the ‘plum’ part!”</p> + +<p>“O, don’t all eat gruel for me,” said Billy. “Course I sha’ n’t be a +baby, and cry for things!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Aunt Phebe seemed resolved to develop the gruel idea to its utmost. +She made all kinds,—Indian meal, oatmeal, corn-starch, flour, mixed +meals, wheat; made it sweetened, and spiced with plums, and plain. One +kind, that she called “thickened milk,” was delicious. “Course” we had +one cup of tea, and bread and butter, and I can truly say that I have +eaten many a worse supper than a “gruel supper.”</p> + +<p>Here is a letter from William Henry to Dorry, written when he began to +get well:—</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry’s Letter to Dorry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Dorry,</span>—</p> + +<p>I’m just as hungry as anything, now, about all the time. My grandmother +says she’s so glad to see me eat again; and so am I glad to eat myself. +Things taste better than they did before. Maybe I shall come back to +school again pretty soon, my father says; but my grandmother guesses not +very, because she thinks I should have a relapse if I did. A relapse is +to get sick when you’re getting well; and, if I should get sick again, O +what should I do! for I want to go out-doors. If they’d only let me go +out, I’d saw wood all day, or anything. There isn’t much fun in being +sick, I tell you, Dorry; but getting well, O, that’s the thing! I tell +you getting well’s jolly! I have very good things sent to me about every +day, and when I want to make molasses candy my grandmother says yes +every time, if she isn’t frying anything in the spider herself; and then +I wait and whistle to my sister’s canary-bird, or else look out the +window. But she tells me to stand a yard back, because she says cold +comes in the window-cracks: and my uncle Jacob he took the yardstick one +day, and measured a yard, and put a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> chalk mark there, where my toes +must come to, he said. If I hold the yardstick a foot and a half up from +the floor, my sister’s kitty can jump over it tip-top. My sister has +made a Red-Riding-Hood cloak for her kitty, and a muff to put her fore +paws in, and takes her out.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p099a.jpg" width="448" height="262" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 427px;"> +<img src="images/p099b.jpg" width="427" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Yesterday Uncle Jacob came into the house and said he had brought a +carriage to carry me over to Aunt Phebe’s; and when I looked out it +wasn’t anything but a wheelbarrow. My grandmother said I must wrap up, +for ’t was the first time; so she put two overcoats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> on me, and my +father’s long stockings over my shoes and stockings, and a good many +comforters, and then a great shawl over my head so I needn’t breathe the +air; and ’t was about as bad as to stay in. Uncle Jacob asked her if +there was a Billy in that bundle, when he saw it. “Hallo, in there!” +says he. “Hallo, out there!” says I. Then he took me up in his arms, and +carried me out, and doubled me up, and put me down in the wheelbarrow, +and threw the buffalo over me; but one leg got undoubled, and fell out, +so I had to drag my foot most all the way. Aunt Phebe undid me, and set +me close to the fire; and Lucy Maria and the rest of them brought me +story-books and picture-papers; and Tommy, he kept round me all the +time, making me whittle him out little boats out of a shingle, and we +had some fun sailing ’em in a milk-pan. Aunt Phebe had chicken broth for +dinner, and I had a very good appetite. She let me look into all her +closets and boxes, and let me open all her drawers. But I had to have a +little white blanket pinned on when I went round, because she was afraid +her room wasn’t kept so warm as my grandmother’s. Soon as Uncle Jacob +came in and saw that little white blanket he began to laugh. “So Aunt +Phebe has got out the <i>signal of distress</i>,” says he. He calls that +blanket the “signal of distress,” because when any of them don’t feel +well, or have the toothache or anything, she puts it on them. She says +he shall have to wear it some time, and I guess he’ll look funny, he’s +so tall, with it on. The fellers played base-ball close to Aunt Phebe’s +garden. I tell you I shall be glad enough to get out-doors. I tell you +it isn’t much fun to look out the window and see ’em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> play ball. But +Uncle Jacob says if the ball hit me ’t would knock me over now. Aunt +Phebe was just as clever, and let me whittle right on the floor, and +didn’t care a mite. And we made corn-balls. But the best fun was finding +things, when I was rummaging. I found some pictures in an old trunk that +she said I might have, and I want you to give them to Bubby Short to put +in the Panorama he said he was going to make. He said the price to see +it would be two cents. They are true ones, for they are about Aunt +Phebe’s little Tommy. One day, when he was a good deal smaller feller +than he is now, he went out when it had done raining one day, and the +wind blew hard, and he found an old umbrella, and did just what is in +the pictures. The school-teacher that boarded there, O, she could draw +cows and pigs and anything; and she drew these pictures, and wrote about +them underneath.</p> + +<p>I wish you would write me a letter, and tell Benjie to and Bubby Short.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">William Henry.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. What are you fellers playing now?</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Thinking the school-teacher’s pictures might please other little Tommys, +I have taken some pains to procure them for insertion here. Little +“fellers” usually are fond of carrying umbrellas,—large size preferred. +Nothing suited Tommy better than marching off to school of a rainy day +with one up full spread, provided he could hold it. His cousin Myra once +took an old umbrella and cut it down into a small one, by chopping off +the ends of the sticks, supposing he would be delighted with it. But no, +he wanted a “<i>man’s one</i>.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>TOMMY ON HIS TRAVELS.</h4> + +<p>Tommy sets forth upon his travels around the house, taking with him his +whip.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"> +<img src="images/p102a.jpg" width="336" height="339" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;"> +<img src="images/p102b.jpg" width="339" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>At the first corner he picks up an umbrella. A larger boy opens the +umbrella, and shows him the way to hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> it. Being an old umbrella, it +shuts down again. But Tommy still keeps on in his way.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/p103a.jpg" width="362" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>At the second corner a gust of wind takes down the umbrella, and blows +his capes over his head. He pushes on, however, whip in hand, dragging +the umbrella behind him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/p103b.jpg" width="362" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>On turning the third corner a hen runs between his legs, and throws him +down in the mud.</p> + +<p>He is taken inside, stripped and washed, and left sitting upon the floor +in his knit shirt, waiting for clean clothes. He can reach the handle of +the molasses-jug. He does reach the handle, and tips over the jug. His +mother finds him eating molasses off the floor with his forefinger. +Tommy looks up with a sweet smile.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 463px;"> +<img src="images/p104.jpg" width="463" height="640" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here we have William Henry back at school again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/p105.jpg" width="420" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>I’ve been here three days now. I came safe all the way, but that glass +vial you put that medicine into, down in the corner of the trunk, broke, +and some white stockings down there, they soaked it all up; but I sha’ +n’t have to take it now, and no matter, I guess, for I feel well, all +but my legs feeling weak so I can’t run hardly any. When I got here, the +boys were playing ball; but they all ran to shake hands, and slapped my +shoulders so they almost slapped me down, and hollered out, “How are +you, Billy?” “How fares ye?” “Welcome back!” “Got well?” “Good for you, +Billy!” Gus Beals—he’s the great tall one we call “Mr. Augustus”—he +called out, “How are you, red-top?” And then Dorry called out to him, +“How are you, hay-pole?” Dorry and Bubby Short want me to tell you to +thank Aunt Phebe for their doughnuts,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and you, too, for that molasses +candy. The candy got soft, and the paper jammed itself all into the +candy, but Bubby Short says he loves paper when it has molasses candy +all over it. I gave some of the things to Benjie. Something hurt me all +the way coming, in the toe of my boot; and when I got here I looked, and +’t was a five-cent piece right in the toe! I know who ’t was! ’T was +Uncle Jacob when he made believe look to see if that boot-top wasn’t +made of mighty poor leather. I went to spend it yesterday, down to the +Two Betseys’ shop. Lame Betsey called me a poor little dear, and was +just going to kiss me, but I twisted my face round. I’m too big for all +that now, I guess. She looked for something to give me, and was just +going to give me a stick of candy; but the other Betsey said ’t was no +use to give little boys candy, for they’d only swallow it right down, so +she gave me a row of pins, for she said pins were proper handy things +when your buttons ripped off. Just when I was coming back from the Two +Betseys’ shop I met Gapper Skyblue. He goes about selling cakes now. A +good many boys were round him, in a hurry to buy first, and all you +could hear was, “Here, Gapper!”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p106.jpg" width="448" height="276" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>“This way, Gapper!” “You know me, Gapper!” “Me, me, me!” One boy—he’s a +new boy—spoke up loud and said, “Mr. Skyblue, please attend to me, if +you please, for I have five pennies to spend!” He came from Jersey. The +fellers call him “Old Wonder Boy,” because he brags and tells such big +stories. But now, just as soon as he begins to tell, Dorry begins too, +and always tells the biggest,—makes them up, you know. O, I tell you, +Dorry gives it to him good! You’d die a laughing to hear Dorry, and so +do all the fellers. W. B.,—that’s what we call Old Wonder Boy +sometimes,—W stands for Wonder, and B stands for Boy,—he says cents +are not cents; says they are pennies, for the Jersey folks call them +pennies, and he guesses they know. He says he gets his double handful of +pennies to spend every day down in Jersey. But Bubby Short says he knows +that’s a whopper, for he knows there wouldn’t anybody’s mother give them +their double handful of pennies to spend every day, nor cents either, +nor their father either. And then Dorry told Old Wonder Boy that he +supposed it took his double handful of pennies to buy a roll of lozenges +down in Jersey. Then W. B. said that our lozenges were all flour and +water, but down in Jersey they were clear sugar, and just as plenty as +huckleberries. Dorry said he didn’t believe any huckleberries grew out +there, or if they did, they’d be nothing but red ones, for the ground +was red out in Jersey. But W. B. said no matter if the ground was red, +the huckleberries were just as black as Yankee huckleberries, and +blacker too, and three times bigger, and ten times thicker. Said he +picked twenty quarts one day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dorry said, “Poh, that wasn’t much of a pick!” Says he, “Now I’ll tell +you a huckleberry story that’s worth something.” Then all the boys began +to hit elbows, for they knew Dorry would make up some funny thing. Says +he: “I went a huckleberrying once to Wakonok Swamp, and I carried a +fourteen-quart tin pail, and a great covered basket, besides a good many +quart and pint things. You’d better believe they hung thick in that +swamp! I found a thick spot, and I slung my fourteen-quart tin pail +round my waist, and picked with both hands, and ate off the bushes with +my mouth all the while. I got all my things full without stirring two +yards from the spot, and then I didn’t know what to do. But I’ll tell +you what I did. I took off my jacket, and cut my fishing-line, and tied +up the bottom ends of my jacket sleeves and picked them both full. And +then I didn’t know what to do next. But I’ll tell you what I did. I took +off my overalls, and tied up the bottoms of their legs, and picked them +so full you wouldn’t know but there was a boy standing up in ’em!” Then +the boys all clapped.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Old Wonder Boy said, “how did you get them home?”</p> + +<p>“O, got them home easy enough,” Dorry said. “First I put the overalls +over my shoulders, like a boy going pussy-back. I slung all the quart +and pint things round my waist, and hung the covered basket on one arm, +and took the fourteen-quart tin pail in that same hand. Then I tied my +jacket to the end of my fishing-pole, and held it up straight in my +other hand like—like a flag in a dead calm!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>O, you ought to ’ve seen the boys,—how they winked at one another and +puffed out their cheeks; and some of ’em rolled over and over down hill +to keep from laughing! Bubby Short got behind the fence, and put his +face between two bars, and called out, “S—e—double l!” But Dorry says +they don’t know what a “s—e—double l” is down in Jersey. But I don’t +believe that W. B. believes Dorry’s stories; for I looked him in the +face, and he had a mighty sly look when he asked Dorry how it was he got +his huckleberries home.</p> + +<p>To-day they got a talking about potatoes. Old Wonder Boy said that down +in Jersey they grow so big you have to pry ’em up out of the hill, and +it don’t take much more than two to make a peck. Dorry told him that +down in Maine you could stand on top the potato-hills and look all round +the country, they were so high; and he asked W. B. how they planted ’em +in Jersey, with their eyes up or down? He said he didn’t know which way +they did turn their eyes. Then Dorry told him the Yankees always planted +potatoes eyes up, so they could see which way to grow. Said he planted a +hill of potatoes in his father’s garden, last summer, with their eyes +all down, and waited and waited, but they didn’t come up. And when he +had waited a spell longer, he raked off the top of that hill of +potatoes, and all he saw was some roots sticking up. And he began to dig +down. And he kept digging. Followed their stems. But he never got to the +potato-tops; and says he, “I never did get to those potato-tops!” O, you +ought to ’ve heard the boys!</p> + +<p>Old Wonder Boy wanted to know where Dorry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> thought they’d gone to. Dorry +thought to himself a minute, and looked just as sober, and then says he, +just like a school-teacher, “The earth, in the middle, is afire. I think +when they got deep enough to feel the warm, they guessed ’t was the sun, +and so kept heading that way.”</p> + +<p>Is the world afire in the middle? Dorry told me that part of his story +was really true. How Uncle Jacob would laugh to sit down and hear Dorry +and Old Wonder Boy tell about whales. W. B. calls ’em wales. His uncle +is a ship-captain, he says, and once he saw a wale, and the wale was +making for his ship, and it chased ’em. And, no matter how they steered, +that wale would chase. And by and by, in a calm day, he got under the +vessel and boosted her up out of water, when all the crew gave a +yell,—such a horrid yell that the wale let ’em down so sudden that the +waves splashed up to the tops of the masts, and they thought they were +all drowned.</p> + +<p>“O, poh!” Dorry cried out. “My uncle was a regular whaler, and went a +whaling for his living. And once he was cruising about the +whaling-grounds and ’t was in a place where the days were so short that +the nights lasted almost all day. And they got chased by a whale. And he +kept chasing them. Night and day. And there came up a gale of wind that +lasted three days and nights; and the ship went like lightning, night +and day, the whale after them. And, when the wind went down, the whale +was so tuckered that he couldn’t swim a stroke. So he floated. Then the +cap’n sang out to ’em to lower a boat. And they did. And the cap’n got +in and took a couple of his men to row him. The whale was rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> longer +than a liberty-pole. About as long as a liberty-pole and a half. He was +asleep, and they steered for the tail end. A whale’s head is about as +big as the Two Betseys’ shop, and ’t is filled with clear oil, without +any trying out. The cap’n landed on the whale’s tail, and went along up +on tiptoe, and the men rowed the boat alongside, and kept even with him; +and, when he got towards her ears, he took off his shoes, and threw ’em +to the men to catch. After a while he got to the tip-top of her head. +Now I’ll tell you what he had in his hand. He had a great junk of cable +as big round as the trunk of a tree, and not quite a yard long. In one +end of it there was a point of a harpoon stuck in, and the other end of +it was lighted. He told the men to stand ready. Then he took hold of the +cable with both hands, and with one mighty blow he stuck that pointed +end deep in the whale’s head, and then gave one jump into the boat, and +he cried out to the men, ‘Row! row for your lives! To the tail end! If +you want to live, row!’ And before that whale could turn round they were +safe aboard the ship! But now I’ll tell you the best part of the whole +story. They didn’t have any more long dark nights after that. They kept +throwing over bait to keep her chasing, and the great lamp blazed, and +as fast as the oil got hot it tried out more blubber, and that whale +burned as long as there was a bit of the inside of him left. Flared up, +and lighted up the sea, and drew the fishes, and they drew more whales; +and they got deep loaded, and might have loaded twenty more ships. And +when they left they took a couple in tow,—of whales,—and knocked out +their teeth for ivory, and then sold their carcasses to an empty +whaler.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dorry says some parts of this story are true. But he didn’t say which +parts. Said I must look in the whale-book and find out.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I wish you would please to send me a silver three-cent piece or +five-cent. Two squaws have got a tent a little ways off, and the boys +are going to have their fortunes taken. But you have to cross the +squaws’ hands with silver.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 437px;"> +<img src="images/p112.jpg" width="437" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Georgianna’s Letter to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Brother Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>O Billy, my pretty, darling little bird is dead! My kitty did it, and O, +I don’t know what I shall do, for I love my kitty if she did kill my +birdie; but I don’t forget about it, and I keep thinking of my birdie +every time my kitty comes in the room. I was putting some seeds in the +glass, and my birdie looked so cunning; and I held<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> a lump of white +sugar in my lips, and let him peck it. And while I was thinking what a +dear little bird he was, I forgot he could fly out; but he could, for +the door was open, and he flew to the window. I didn’t think anything +about kitty. It flew up to that bracket you made, and then it went away +up in the corner just as high as it could, on a wooden peg that was +there. I didn’t know what made it flutter its wings and tremble so, but +grandmother pointed her finger down to the corner, on the floor, and +there was my kitty stretching out and looking up at my bird. And that +was what made poor birdie tremble so. And it dropped right down. Before +we could run across to catch kitty, he dropped right down into her +mouth. I never thought she could get him. I didn’t know what made +grandmother hurry. I didn’t know that kitties could charm birds, but +they do. She didn’t have him a minute in her teeth, and I thought it +couldn’t be dead. But, O Billy, my dear birdie never breathed again! I +warmed him in my hands, and tried to make him stir his wings, but he +never breathed again. Now the tears are coming again. I thought I wasn’t +going to cry any more. But they come themselves; when I don’t know it, +they come; and O, it was such a good birdie! When I came home from +school I used to run to the cage, and he would sing to meet me. And I +put chickweed over his cage.</p> + +<p>Grandmother has put away that empty cage now. She’s sorry, too. Did you +think a grandmother would be sorry about a little bird as that? But +she’d rather give a good deal. When she put the plates on the table, and +rattled spoons, he used to sing louder and louder. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> in the morning +he used to wake me up, singing away so loud! Now, when I first wake up, +I listen. But O, it is so still now! Then in a minute I remember all +about it. Sometimes kitty jumps up on the bed, and puts her nose close +down, and purrs. But I say, “No, kitty. Get down. You killed little +birdie. I don’t want to see you.” But she don’t know what I mean. She +rubs her head on my face, and purrs loud, and wants me to stroke her +back, and don’t seem as if she had been bad. She used to be such a dear +little kitty. And so she is. She’s pretty as a pigeon. Aunt Phebe says +she never saw such a pretty little gray and white kitty as she is. I was +going to have her drowned. But then I should cry for kitty too. Then I +should think how she looked all drowned, down at the bottom, just the +same way I do now how my birdie looked when it couldn’t stir its little +wings, and its eyes couldn’t move. My father says that kitty didn’t know +any better. I hope so. I took off that pretty chain she had round her +neck. But grandmother thinks I had better put it on again. Aunt Phebe’s +little Tommy says, “Don’t kye, Dordie, I’ll <i>bung</i> dat tat. I’ll take a +tick and <i>bung</i> dat tat!” He calls me Dordie, I guess I rather have +kitty alive than let her be drowned, don’t you? Grandmother wants you +not to catch cold and be sick.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate sister,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgianna.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Grandmother showed me how to write this letter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>A caged bird is never a very interesting object to me. But this little +canary of Georgie’s was really a beautiful creature, and very +intelligent. They used to think that he listened for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> her step at noon +and night; for no sooner was it heard in the entry than he peeped out +with his little bright eyes, and tuned up, and sang away, as if to say, +“Glad! glad! glad you’ve come! glad you’ve come!”</p> + +<p>Then she would go to the cage and talk to him, and let him take sugar +from her mouth, and would hang fresh chickweed about its cage. Mornings +she used to sing, from her bed, and the bird would answer. Indeed, he +really seemed quite a companion for her.</p> + +<p>At the time the accident happened I had been staying for a few weeks at +the hotel, a mile or two off, and called at the farm that very day. Lucy +Maria told me, as I stopped at their door, what the kitten had done, and +how Georgianna had cried and mourned and could not be comforted.</p> + +<p>I found her sitting on the doorstep. She had placed the bird in a small +round basket, lined with cotton-wool, and was bending over, and stroking +it. I had always noticed the bird a great deal, used to play with it, +and whistle to make it sing louder and louder. The sight of me brought +all this back to her mind, and she burst into tears again, sobbing out, +“O, he never—will sing—any more! Dear little birdie! He had to fall +down! He couldn’t—help it!”</p> + +<p>I talked with her awhile, in a cheerful way, and when she had become +quite calm I held out my hand and said, “Come, Georgie, don’t you want +to go with me and find a pretty place where we can put birdie away, +under the soft grass? And we will plant a flower there.”</p> + +<p>The idea of the soft grass and the flower seemed to please her. She took +my hand, and we went to look about.</p> + +<p>We thought the garden not a very good place, because it was dug up every +year, and the field would be mowed and trampled upon. But just over the +fence, back of the garden, we came upon some uneven ground, where the +old summer-sweeting trees grew. In one place there was a sudden pitch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +downwards, into a little hollow, which grass and plantain leaves made +almost forever green. For here was what they called the Boiling Spring. +The water bubbled out of the ground on the slope of the bank, and in +former times, before the well was dug, had been used in the family. +Several trees grew about there,—wild cherry, damson, and poplar,—and a +profusion of yellow flowers, wild ones. Some of these grandmother called +“Ladies’ Slipper”; the others, “Sullendine.” The spring had once been +stoned up and boxed over. But the boards were now rotting away, the +stones falling in, and our little hollow had quite a deserted look. The +water trickled out and ran away around the curve of the bank.</p> + +<p>Grandmother came with us, and Georgie’s teacher, and Matilda and Tommy. +We hollowed out a little place under the wild-cherry tree, wrapped the +birdie in cotton-wool, lay him in, and covered him over with the green +sod. I then went down by the stone wall, where sweetbriers were growing, +dug up a very pretty little one, and set it out close by, so that it +might lean against the cherry-tree. Tommy kept very sober, and scarcely +spoke a word, till it was all over. He then said to me, in a very +earnest tone, “Mr. Fwy, now will another birdie grow up there?” I +suppose he was thinking of his father’s planting corn and more corn +growing.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Little Sister,—</span></p> + +<p>I’m sorry your little birdie’s dead! He was a nice singing birdie! But I +wouldn’t cry. Maybe you’ll have another one some time, if you’re a good +little girl. Maybe father’ll go to Boston and buy you one, or maybe +Cousin Joe will send one home to you, in a vessel, or maybe I’ll catch +one, or maybe a man will come along with birds to sell, or maybe Aunt +Phebe’s bird will lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> an egg and hatch one out. I wouldn’t feel bad +about it. It isn’t any use to feel bad about it. Maybe, if he hadn’t +been killed, he’d ’a’ died. Dorry says, “Tell her, ‘Don’t you cry,’ and +I’ll give her something, catch her a rabbit or a squirrel!” Says he’ll +tease his sister for her white mice. Says he’ll tease her with the tears +in his eyes,—or else her banties.</p> + +<p>How do you like your teacher? Do you learn any lessons at school? You +must try to get up above all the other ones. We’ve got two new teachers +this year. One is clever, and we like that one, but the other one isn’t +very. We call the good one Wedding Cake, and we call the other one Brown +Bread. Did grandmother tell you about the Fortune Tellers? We went +to-day and she told mine true. She said my father was a very kind man, +and said I was quick to get mad, and said I had just got something I’d +wanted a long time (watch, you know), and said I should have something +else that I wanted, but didn’t say when. I wonder how she knew I wanted +a gun. I thought perhaps somebody told her, and laid it to Old Wonder +Boy, for we two had been talking about guns. But he flared up just like +a flash of powder. “There. Now you needn’t blame that on to me!” says +he. “You fellers always do blame everything on to me!” Sometimes when +somebody touches him he hollers out, “Leave me loose! Leave me loose!” +Dorry says that’s the way fellers talk down in Jersey. The Fortune +Teller told W. B. that he came from a long way off, and that he wanted +to be a soldier, but he’d better give up that, for he wouldn’t dare to +go to war, without he went behind to sell pies. All of us laughed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +hear that, for Old Wonder Boy is quick to get scared. But he is always +straightening himself up, and looking big, and talking about his native +land, and what he would do for his native land, and how he would fight +for his native land, and how he would die for his native land. He says +that why she told him that kind of a fortune was because he gave her +pennies and not silver money. His uncle that goes cap’n of a vessel has +sent him a letter, and in the letter it said that he had a sailor aboard +his ship that used to come to this school.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p118.jpg" width="448" height="290" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>I was going to tell you a funny story about W. B.’s getting scared, but +Dorry he keeps teasing me to go somewhere. I made these joggly letters +when he tickled my ears with his paint-brush. Has your pullet begun to +lay yet? I hope my rooster won’t be killed. Tell them not to. Benjie +says he had a grand great rooster. It was white and had green and purple +tail feathers, O, very long tail feathers, and stood ’most as high as a +barrel of flour, with great yellow legs, and had a beautiful crow, and +could drive away every other one that showed his head, and he set his +eyes by that rooster, but when he got home they had killed him for +broth, and when he asked ’em where his rooster was they brought out the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +wish-bone and two tail feathers, and that was all there was left of him. +I wouldn’t have poor little kitty drowned way down in the deep water +’cause to drown a kitty couldn’t make a birdie alive again. Have your +flowers bloomed out yet? You must be a good little girl, and try to +please your grandmother all you can.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Now Dorry’s run to head off a loose horse, and I’ll tell you about +Old Wonder Boy’s getting scared. It was one night when—Now there comes +Dorry back again! But next time I will.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Sister, about Old Wonder Boy’s Fright.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sister,—</span></p> + +<p>I will put that little story I am going to tell you right at the +beginning, before Dorry and Bubby Short get back. I mean about W. B.’s +getting scared. But don’t you be scared, for after all ’t was—no, I +mean after all ’t wasn’t—but wait and you’ll know by and by, when I +tell you. ’T was one night when Dorry and I and some more fellers were a +sitting here together, and we all of us heard some thick boots coming-a +hurrying up the stairs, and the door came a banging open, and W. B. +pitched in, just as pale as a sheet, and couldn’t but just breathe. And +he tried to speak, but couldn’t, only one word at once, and catching his +breath between, just so,—“Shut—the—door!—Do!—Do!—shut—the door!” +Then we shut up the door, and Bubby Short stood his back up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> against it +because ’t wouldn’t quite latch, and now I will tell you what it was +that scared him. Not at the first of it, but I shall tell it just the +same way we found it out.</p> + +<p>Says he, “I was making a box, and when I got it done ’t was dark, but I +went to carry the carpenter’s tools back to him, because I promised to. +And going along,” says he, “I thought I heard a funny noise behind me, +but I didn’t think very much about it, but I heard it again, and I +looked over my shoulder, and I saw something white behind me, a chasing +me. I went faster, and then that went faster. Then I went slower, and +then that went slower. And then I got scared and ran as fast as I could, +and looked over my shoulder and ’t was keeping up. But it didn’t run +with feet, nor with legs, for then I shouldn’t ’a’ been scared. But it +came—O, I don’t know how it came, without anything to go on.”</p> + +<p>Dorry asked him, “How did it look?”</p> + +<p>“O,—white. All over white,” says W. B.</p> + +<p>“How big was it?” Bubby Short asked him.</p> + +<p>“O,—I don’t know,” says W. B. “First it looked about as big as a +pigeon, but every time I looked round it seemed to grow bigger and +bigger.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe ’t was a pigeon,” says Dorry. “Did it have any wings?”</p> + +<p>“Not a wing,” says W. B.</p> + +<p>“Maybe ’t was a white cat,” says Mr. Augustus.</p> + +<p>“O, poh, cat!” says W. B.</p> + +<p>“Or a poodle dog,” says Benjie.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, poodle dog!” says W. B.</p> + +<p>“Or a rabbit,” says Bubby Short.</p> + +<p>“O, go ’way with your rabbit!” says W. B. “Didn’t I tell you it hadn’t +any feet or legs to go with?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then how could it go?” Mr. Augustus asked him.</p> + +<p>“That’s the very thing,” said W. B.</p> + +<p>“Snakes do,” says Bubby Short.</p> + +<p>“But a snake wouldn’t look white,” says Benjie.</p> + +<p>“Without ’t was scared,” says Dorry.</p> + +<p>I said I guessed I knew. Like enough ’t was a ghost of something.</p> + +<p>I said like enough of a robin or some kind of bird.</p> + +<p>“Of what?” then they all asked me.</p> + +<p>“That he’d stolen the eggs of,” says Dorry.</p> + +<p>“O yes!” says Old Wonder Boy. “It’s easy enough to laugh, in the light +here, but I guess you’d ’a’ been scared, seeing something chasing you in +the dark, and going up and down, and going tick, tick, tick, every time +it touched ground, and sometimes it touched my side too.”</p> + +<p>“For goodness gracious!” says Dorry. “Can’t you tell what it seemed most +like?”</p> + +<p>“I tell you it didn’t seem most like anything. It didn’t run, nor walk, +nor fly, nor creep, nor glide along. And when I got to the Great +Elm-Tree, I cut round that tree, and ran this way, and that did too.”</p> + +<p>“Where is it now?” Dorry asked him.</p> + +<p>“O, don’t!” says W. B. “Don’t open the door. ’T is out there.”</p> + +<p>“Come, fellers,” Dorry said, “let’s go find it.”</p> + +<p>Benjie said, “Let’s take something to hit it with!” And he took an +umbrella and I took the bootjack, and Bubby Short took the towel horse, +and Mr. Augustus took a hair-brush, and Dorry took his boot with his arm +run down in it, and first we opened the door a crack and didn’t go out, +but peeped out, but didn’t see anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> there. Then we went out a +little ways, and then we didn’t see anything. And pretty soon, going +along towards the stairs, Bubby Short stepped on something. “What’s +that?” says he. And he jumped, and we all flung our things at it. “Hold +the light!” Dorry cried out.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p122.jpg" width="448" height="243" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Then W. B. brought out the light, and there wasn’t anything there but a +carpenter’s reel, with a chalk line wound up on it, and they picked it +up and began to wind up, and when they came to the end of it—where do +you s’pose the other end was? In W. B.’s pocket! and his ball and some +more things held it fast there, and that chalk-line reel was what went +bobbing up and down behind Old Wonder Boy every step he took,—bob, bob, +bobbing up and down, for there was a hitch in the line and it couldn’t +unwind any more, and the line under the door was why ’t wouldn’t latch, +and O, but you ought to ’ve heard the fellers how they roared! and Bubby +Short rolled over on the floor, and Dorry he tumbled heels over head on +all the beds, and we all shouted and hurrahed so the other fellers came +running to see what was up, and then the teachers came to see who was +flinging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> things round so up here, and to see what was the matter, but +there couldn’t anybody tell what the matter was for laughing, and W. B. +he looked so sheepish! O, if it wasn’t gay! How do you like this story? +That part where it touched his side was when that reel caught on +something and so jerked the string some. Now I must study my lesson.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. When you send a box don’t send very many clothes in it, but send +goodies. I tell you things taste good when a feller’s away from his +folks. Dorry’s father had a picture taken of Dorry’s little dog and sent +it to him, and it looks just as natural as some boys. Tell Aunt Phebe’s +little Tommy he may sail my boat once. ’T is put away up garret in that +corner where I keep things, side of that great long-handled thing, +grandmother’s warming-pan. I mean that little sloop boat I had when I’s +a little feller.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Georgianna’s Letter to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Brother Billy,</span>——</p> + +<p>Kitty isn’t drowned. I’ve got ever so many new dolls. My grandmother +went to town, not the same day my kitty did that, but the next day, and +she brought me home a new doll, and that same day she went there my +father went to Boston, and he brought me home a very big one,——no, not +very, but quite big,——and Aunt Phebe went a visiting to somebody’s +house that very day, and she brought me home a doll, and while she was +gone away Hannah Jane dressed over one of Matilda’s old ones<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> new, and +none of the folks knew that the others were going to give me a doll, and +then Uncle J. said that if it was the family custom to give Georgianna a +doll, he would give Georgianna a doll, and he went to the field and +catched the colt, and tackled him up into the riding wagon on purpose, +and then he started off to town, and when he rode up to our back door +there was a great dolly, the biggest one I had, and she was sitting down +on the seat, just like a live one. And she had a waterfall, and she had +things to take off and on. Then Uncle J. asked me what I should do with +my old dollies that were ’most worn out. And I said I didn’t know what I +should. And then Uncle J. said that he would take the lot, for +twenty-five cents a head, to put up in his garden, for scarecrows, and +he asked me if I would sell, and I said I would. And he put the little +ones on little poles and the big ones on tall poles, with their arms +stretched out, and the one with a long veil looked the funniest, and so +did the one dressed up like a sailor boy, but one arm was broke off of +him, and a good many of their noses too. The one that had on old woman’s +clothes Uncle J. put a pipe in her mouth. And the one that had a pink +gauze dress, but ’t is all faded out now, and a long train, but the +train was torn very much, that one has a great bunch of +flowers——paper——pinned on to her, and another in her hand, and the +puppy he barks at ’em like everything. My pullet lays, little ones, you +know. I hope she won’t do like Lucy Maria’s Leghorn hen. That one flies +into the bedroom window every morning, and lays eggs on the bedroom bed. +For maybe ’t would come in before I got up. My class has begun to learn +geography, and my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> father has bought me a new geography. But I guess I +sha’ n’t like to learn it very much if the backside is hard as the +foreside is. Uncle J. says no need to worry your mind any about that old +fowl, for he’s so tough he couldn’t be killed. I wish you would tell me +how long he could live if it wasn’t killed, for Uncle J. says they grow +tougher every year, and if you should let one live too long, then he +can’t die. But I guess he’s funning, do you? Our hens scratched and +scratched up some of my flowers, and so did the rain wash some up that +night it came down so hard, but one pretty one bloomed out this morning, +but it has budded back again now. Aunt Phebe says she sends her love to +you, tied up with this pretty piece of blue ribbon. She says, if you +want to, you can take the ribbon and wear it for a neck bow. Grandmother +says how do you know but that sailor that went to your school in Old +Wonder Boy’s uncle’s vessel is that big boy, that bad one that ran away, +you called Tom Cush?</p> + +<p>Father laughs to hear about Old Wonder Boy, and he says a bragger ought +to be laughed at, and bragging is a bad thing. But he don’t want you to +pick out all the bad things about a boy to send home in your letters; +says next time you must send home a good thing about him, because he +thinks every boy you see has some good things as well as some bad +things.</p> + +<p>A dear little baby has moved in the house next to our house. It lets me +hold her, and its mother lets me drag her out. It’s got little bits of +toes, and it’s got a little bit of a nose, and it says “Da da! da da! da +da!” And when I was dragging her out, the wheel went over a poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> little +butterfly, but I guess it was dead before. O, its wings were just as +soft! and ’t was a yellow one. And I buried it up in the ground close to +where I buried up my little birdie, side of the spring.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate sister,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgianna.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Among the other letters I find the following, from Tom Cush. As the +people at Summer Sweeting place had been told the circumstances of his +running away, it was not only proper, but just, that William Henry +should send them this letter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter from Tom Cush to Dorry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend,</span>——</p> + +<p>I have not seen you for a great while. I hope you are in good health. +Does William Henry go to school there now? And does Benjie go, and +little Bubby Short? I hope they are in good health. Do the Two Betseys +keep shop there now? Is Gapper Skyblue alive now? I am in very good +health. I go to sea now. That’s where I went when I went away from +school. I suppose all the boys hate me, don’t they? But I don’t blame +them any for hating me. I should think they would all of them hate me. +For I didn’t act very well when I went to that school. Our captain knows +about that school, for he is uncle to a boy that has begun to go. He’s +sent a letter to him. I wish that boy would write a letter to him, +because he might tell about the ones I know.</p> + +<p>I’ve been making up my mind about telling you something. I’ve been +thinking about it, and thinking about it. I don’t like to tell things +very well. But I am going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> to tell this to you. It isn’t anything to +tell. I mean it isn’t like news, or anything happening to anybody. But +it is something about when I was sick. For I had a fit of sickness. I +don’t mean afterwards, when I was so very sick, but at the first +beginning of it.</p> + +<p>The captain he took some books out of his chest and said I might have +them to read if I wanted to. And I read about a man in one of them, and +the king wanted him to do something that the man thought wasn’t right to +do; but the man said he would not do what was wrong. And for that he was +sent to row in a very large boat among all kinds of bad man, thieves and +murderers and the worst kind. They had to row every minute, and were +chained to their oars, and above their waists they had no clothes on. +They had overseers with long whips. The officers stayed on deck over the +rowers’ heads, and when they wanted the vessel to go faster, the +overseers made their long whip-lashes cut into the men’s backs till they +were all raw and bleeding. Nights the chains were not taken off, and +they slept all piled up on each other. Sometimes when the officers were +in a hurry, or when there were soldiers aboard, going to fight the +enemy’s vessels, then the men wouldn’t have even a minute to eat, and +were almost starved to death, and got so weak they would fall over, but +then they were whipped again. And when they got to the enemy’s ships, +they had to sit and have cannons fired in among them. Then the dead ones +were picked up and thrown into the water. And the king told the man that +if he wanted to be free, and have plenty to eat and a nice house, and +good clothes to wear, all he had to do was to promise to do that wrong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +thing. But the man said no. For to be chained there would only hurt his +body. But to do wrong would hurt his soul.</p> + +<p>And I read about some people that lived many hundred years ago and the +emperor of that country wanted these people to say that their religion +was wrong and his religion was the right one. But they said, “No. We +believe ours is true, and we cannot lie.” Then the emperor took away all +their property, and pierced them with red-hot irons, and threw some into +a place where they kept wild beasts. But they still kept saying, “We +cannot lie, we must speak what we believe.” And one was a boy only +fifteen years old. And the emperor thought he was so young they could +scare him very easy. And he said to him, “Now say you believe the way I +want you to, or I will have you shut up in a dark dungeon.” But the boy +said, “I will not say what is false.” And he was shut up in a dark +dungeon, underground. And one day the emperor said to him, “Say you +believe the way I want you to, or I will have you stretched upon a +rack.” But the boy said, “I will not speak falsely.” And he was +stretched upon a rack till his bones were almost pulled apart. Then the +emperor asked, “Now will you believe that my religion is right?” But the +boy could not say so. And the emperor said, “Then you’ll be burned +alive!” The boy said, “I can suffer the burning, but I cannot lie.” Then +he was brought out and the wood was piled up round him, and set on fire, +and the boy was burned up with the wood. And while he was burning up he +thanked God for having strength enough to suffer and not lie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dorry, I want to tell you how much I’ve been thinking about that man and +that boy ever since. And I want to ask you to do something. I’ve been +thinking about how mean I was, and what I did there so as not to get +punished. And I want you to go see my mother and tell her that I’m +<i>ashamed</i>. Don’t make any promises to my mother, but only just tell, +“<i>Tom’s ashamed</i>.” That’s all. I don’t want to make promises. But I know +myself just what I mean to do. But I sha’ n’t talk about that any. Give +my regards to all inquiring friends.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tom.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. Can’t you tell things about me to William Henry and the others, for +it is very hard to me to write a letter? Write soon.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +T.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Mr. Carver’s visit to the Crooked Pond School alluded to in the +following letter was quite an event for my Summer Sweeting friends, and +caused an extra amount of cooking to be done in both families. Boys +don’t half appreciate the blessing of not being too old to have goodies +sent them. Now goodies taste good to me, very good, but I haven’t a +friend in the world who would think of boiling up a kettleful of +molasses into candy, or of making a waiterful of seed-cakes to send me. +<i>Too old</i>, they say,—in actions, if not in words. How cruelly we are +misjudged sometimes, and by those who ought to know us best! I shall +never be too old to receive a box like that of William Henry’s, never, +never!—unless my whole constitution is altered and several <i>clauses</i> +taken out of it.</p> + +<p>I remember of seeing that waiter of “good seed-cakes” on grandmother’s +best room table, between the front windows, waiting to be packed in Mr. +Carver’s valise. Mr. Carver’s black silk neck-handkerchief, tall hat, +clean dickies, stockings,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> two red and white silk pocket-handkerchiefs, +and various other articles were distributed over the adjacent chairs, +and his umbrella, in a brown cambric covering, stood near by. I have the +impression that most of these things were ironed over, five or six +times, as grandmother felt that apparel going away from home could not +be too much ironed. Besides, it seemed to her impossible that such an +event as Billy’s father setting out on his travels should take place +without extra exertions in some quarter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver had other business which took him from home, but as “going to +see Billy” was thought <i>enough to tell Mrs. Paulina</i>, why, it is enough +for me to tell. “Mrs. Paulina” was an elderly woman, the wife of Mr. +John Slade, one of the neighbors, and she was called “Mrs. Paulina,” to +distinguish her from several other Mrs. Slades.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Paulina had her own opinion as to how money and time should be +spent,—everybody’s money and time. She was one of the prying sort, and +had wonderful skill in ferreting out all the whys and wherefores of her +neighbor’s proceedings. It was a common thing at the Farm to say, when +undertaking some new scheme, “Well, how much shall we tell Mrs. +Paulina?” It being a matter of course that she would inquire into it. +The girls often amused themselves by giving her <i>blinding</i> answers just +to see how she would contrive to carry her point. I remember their +having great fun doing this, just after William Henry went away to +school. Lucy Maria said ’t was just like a conundrum to Mrs. Paulina, a +great mammoth conundrum, and the poor thing must be told about “Old +Uncle Wallace,” or she would wear herself out, wondering “how Mr. Carver +could possibly afford the money.”</p> + +<p>The “Old Uncle Wallace” thus brought to the rescue of Mrs. Paulina would +probably not have came to her rescue, or to any woman’s rescue, had he +been free to choose, seeing that he lived and died a bachelor, and a +stingy bachelor at that! The old miser was a distant uncle,—either +half-uncle,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> or grand-uncle, or half grand-uncle of the Mr. Carvers, and +lived, that is before he died, in a town some twenty miles off. Billy’s +father was named for Uncle Wallace, and when a little boy, lived in the +same neighborhood, and was quite a favorite with him.</p> + +<p>The acquaintance with that distant branch of the family, however, had +not been kept up, in fact I have no recollection of a single member of +it ever coming to the Farm. They were people well to do in the world, +and neither Mr. Carver nor Uncle Jacob were men to “honey round” rich +relations. Certainly they never would have fawned upon the miserly old +fellow, who had the reputation of being mean and tricky as well as +miserly.</p> + +<p>It seems, however, that “Uncle Wallace” did not wholly forget his +namesake, for in his will he left him quite a valuable wood-lot near +Corry’s Pond,—some six or eight miles from the Farm,—and a few hundred +dollars besides.</p> + +<p>This occurred not a great while before my first ride out with Uncle +Jacob. Mr. Carver had long felt that Billy was being spoiled at home, +and the Crooked Pond School being recommended at that time as “really +good,” and “not too expensive,” he resolved that while <i>feeling rich</i> he +would place his son at that institution. And he was more especially +inclined to do so for the reason that an old friend of his lived near +there, and this friend’s wife promised to see that the boy did not go +about in actual rags. She is probably the person to whom William Henry +refers in his first letters, as “the woman I go to have my buttons sewed +on to.”</p> + +<p>The above circumstances were duly imparted to Mrs. Paulina, yet that +perplexed woman got no relief. True, it was something to know where the +money came from, but “How could a man,” she asked, “spend so much money +on eddication, when it might be drawing interest, or put into land?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Paulina couldn’t guess. She gave it up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry’s Letter to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>——</p> + +<p>I suppose my father has got home again by this time. I like to have my +father come to see me. The boys all say my father is a tip-top one. I +guess they like to have a man treat them with so many peanuts and good +seed-cakes. I got back here to-day from Dorry’s cousin’s party. My +father let me go. I wish my sister could have seen that party. Tell her +when I get there I will tell her all about the little girls, and tell +her how cunning the little ones, as small as she, looked dancing, and +about the good things we had. O, I never saw such good things before! I +didn’t know there were such kinds of good things in the world.</p> + +<p>Did my father tell you all about that letter that Tom Cush wrote to +Dorry? Ask him to. Dorry sent that letter right to Tom Cush’s mother. +And when Dorry and I were walking along together the next morning after +the party, she was sitting at her window, and as soon as she saw us she +said, “Won’t you come in, boys? Do come in!” And looked so glad! And +laughed, and about half cried, after we went in, and it was that same +room where we went before. But it didn’t seem so lonesome now, not half. +It looked about as sunshiny as our kitchen does, and they had +flower-vases. I wish I could get some of those pretty seeds for my +sister, for she hasn’t got any of that kind of flowers.</p> + +<p>She seemed just as glad to see us! And shook hands and looked so +smiling, and so did Tom’s father when he came into the room. He had a +belt in his hand that Tom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> used to wear when he used to belong to that +Base-ball Club. And when we saw that Dorry said, “Why! has Tom got +back?” Tom’s mother said, “O no.” But his father said, “O yes! Tom’s got +back. He hasn’t got back to our house, but he’s got back. He hasn’t got +back to town, but he’s got back. He hasn’t got back to his own country, +but he’s got back. For I call that getting back,” says he, “when a boy +gets back to the right way of feeling.”</p> + +<p>Then Tom’s mother took that belt and hung it up where it used to be +before, for it had been taken down and put away, because they didn’t +want to have it make them think of Tom so much.</p> + +<p>She said when Tom got back in earnest, back to the house, that we two, +Dorry and I, must come there and make a visit, and I hope we shall, for +they’ve got a pond at the bottom of their garden, and Tom’s father owns +a boat, and you mustn’t think I should tip over, for I sha’ n’t, and no +matter if I should, I can swim to shore easy.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">William Henry.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. Bubby Short didn’t mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw +hat, and we couldn’t get it out even again, and I didn’t want him to, +but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man +didn’t have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was +dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I +wouldn’t let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because +I didn’t have quite enough. Don’t shopkeepers have the most money of all +kinds of men? Wouldn’t you be a shopkeeper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> when I grow up? It seems +just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled +jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to +send some of W. B.’s good things. He wrote a very good composition about +heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be +sending one of his good things. It’s got in it about two dozen kinds of +heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And +Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may +read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/p134.jpg" width="361" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>W. B.’s Composition.</i></h4> + +<h4>HEADS.</h4> + +<p>Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of +notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell +just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best +kind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won’t +stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn’t quite so +bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won’t be coaxed nor turned, +they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of +fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads +are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of +heads besides our heads.</p> + +<p>First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads +of sermons,—sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one +sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle,—when a farmer reckons +up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, +Drumheads,—drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or +tails,—when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders,—when you let +off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head—like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, +Cabbageheads,—dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. +Eleventh, At Loggerheads,—when you don’t agree. Twelfth, Heads of +chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off,—when you want to stop a horse, or a +boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. +Sixteenth, The Masthead,—where they send sailors to punish them. +Seventeenth, get up to the head,—when you spell the word right. +Eighteenth, The Head of a stream,—where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by +the head,—when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a +Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that’s the +end of a stick of timber that a ship’s anchor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> hangs by. Twenty-second, +A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A +Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead,—but +first be sure you are right.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Bubby Short’s Composition.</i></h4> + +<h4>ON MORNING.</h4> + +<p>It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green +fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the +day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get +up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the +morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the +morning, or there’s a rainbow, ’t will be rainy weather. Fish bite best +in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning.</p> + +<p>Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in +handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been +written during William Henry’s second school year.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry’s Letter about the “Charade.”</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers +had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the +word was—no, I mustn’t tell you, because it has to be guessed by +actions, and when you get the paper that I’m going to send you, soon as +I buy a two-cent stamp, then you’ll see it all printed out in that +paper. The teacher the fellers call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> Wedding Cake, because he’s such a +good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last +night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and +what things to put on, and everything. You’ll see it printed there, but +you must please to send it back, for I promised to return.</p> + +<p>There weren’t females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we +all liked to ha’ died a laughing, getting ready, but when we +were—there, I ’most told!</p> + +<p>O if you could ha’ seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged +clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed +round that cap—just as sober—much as we could do to keep in! I was a +clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece +of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, +like a clerk, and I did.</p> + +<p>Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn’t strut, but he struts other +times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh.</p> + +<p>Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and +quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller +and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the +shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they’re grown +up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. +And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we +all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a +sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth.</p> + +<p>I wish you all and Aunt Phebe’s folks had been there. We had a treat, +and O, if ’t wasn’t a treat, why, I’ll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> agree to treat myself. Three +kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped +cakes and candy, and <i>such</i> a great floating island in a platter!—Dorry +said ’t was a floating continent!—and had red jelly round the platter’s +edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he +isn’t a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves +if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more +too, I say.</p> + +<p>And so I can’t tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly +can,</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Please lend it to Aunt Phebe’s folks.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4>CHARADE. (<i>Carpet.</i>)</h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">First Syllable.</span></h4> + +<p><i>Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter +and take their seats. Placard stuck up, “Beware of Pickpockets,” in +capitals.</i></p> + +<p><i>First.</i> Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, +lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to +read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look +over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be +going on while the other passengers are entering.</p> + +<p><i>Second.</i> Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out +little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after +putting ticket in his hat-band.</p> + +<p><i>Third.</i> Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> and +bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth.</i> A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth +and spectacles.</p> + +<p><i>Fifth.</i> Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers.</p> + +<p><i>Sixth.</i> Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, +watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his +seat, using his eyeglass frequently.</p> + +<p><i>Seventh.</i> Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and +sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, +changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to +please it, dancing them up and down before its face.</p> + +<p><i>Eighth.</i> Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits.</p> + +<p><i>Ninth.</i> Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She +minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, +first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans +herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) “All aboard!”</p> + +<p><i>Tenth.</i> In a hurry, Lady that’s been a-shopping, leading or pulling +along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and +has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, +a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various +other things). Doll’s heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. +Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, +imitating Dandy’s polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +bonnet-strings, takes off the child’s hat, smooths its hair, &c.</p> + +<p>Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down +motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, +whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters.</p> + +<p>Enter Conductor with an immense <i>badge</i> on his hat, or coat. Calls out +“Have your tickets ready!” Then passes along the aisle, and calls out +again, “Tickets!” The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take +them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers +in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. +Conductor, after <i>nipping</i> the tickets, passes out.</p> + +<p>Enter boy with papers, “Mornin’ papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!” +(Business man buys one.) “Mornin’ papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!” +(Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, +“Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!” (Noise heard +of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little +hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer +fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking +motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. “Jessup’s candy! All flavors! Five +cents a stick!” (Lady buys one for baby.) “Jessup’s candy! All flavors! +Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!” (Yankee buys one, offers half to +fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out.</p> + +<p>Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, +others let them lie. (Dandy buys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> one.) Boy collects them and passes +out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After +playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop +something in it. Exit boy.</p> + +<p>Enter Conductor. “Tickets!” Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) +Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes +out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, +pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall +on a smash-up.)</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Second Syllable.</span></h4> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">Lady</span> in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head +on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> with +tray.</i></p> + +<p><i>Maggie.</i> Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. ’T will cheer ye up like!</p> + +<p><i>Lady (looking up).</i> No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It +is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he’s lost!</p> + +<p><i>Maggie.</i> And did ye slape at arl, mum?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude +boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, +or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, +cannot eat.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> with breakfast things. Enter <span class="smcap">Mike</span> with newspapers.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Mornin’ paper, mum.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns).</i> Let +me see if he is found. O, here! “Found!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> A diamond pin on—” Pshaw, +diamond pin! Here it is. “Dog found! Black and tan—” Faugh, black and +tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where’s the notice of our +darling’s being lost?</p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Shure, an’ it’s to the side o’ the house I put it, mum, arl writ +in illegant sizey litters, mum.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (in alarm).</i> And didn’t you go to the printers at all?</p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Shure an’ be n’t it better out in the brard daylight, mum, +laning aginst th’ ’ouse convanient like, an’ aisy to see, mum?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O Mike, you’ve undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I +say.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Mike.</span></i></p> + +<p><i>Lady (solus).</i> It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked +my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my +chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His +little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now?</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mike</span>, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large +letters.</i></p> + +<p>☞ Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!!</p> + +<p><i>Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> An’ it’s meeself larned the fine writin’, mum, in th’ ould +counthry.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (excited).</i> Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen +and paper!</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Mike</span>, muttering. Knock heard at door.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Come!</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Market-Man</span>, <i>in blue frock</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Good day, ma’am. Heard you’d lost a dog.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (eagerly, with hand extended).</i> Yes, yes! Where is he?</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Was he a curly, shaggy dog?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Yes! O yes! Where did you find him?</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Was your dog bright and playful?</p> + +<p><i>Lady (in an excited manner).</i> O, very! very!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Answered to the name of Carlo?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man (in surprise).</i> Arms, ma’am? Arms? ’T is a Newfoundland dog! +He could carry you in his arms!</p> + +<p><i>Lady (dejected).</i> O cruel, cruel disappointment!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> What kind of a dog was yours?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man (going).</i> Good day, ma’am. If I see him, I’ll fetch him.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Market-Man. Mike</span> enters with writing materials, and goes out +again. <span class="smcap">Lady</span> begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly—(<i>Tap at door.</i>) Come!</p> + +<p><i>Enter stupid-looking <span class="smcap">Boy</span>, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large +hat.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Did you wish to see me?</p> + +<p><i>Boy (drawling).</i> Yes, ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> About a dog?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Have you found one?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Is it a very small dog?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Sweet and playful?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma’am?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Did you bring him with you?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma’am (<i>pointing</i>). Out there.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (excited).</i> O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If +it should! (<span class="smcap">Boy</span> <i>brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted</i>.)</p> + +<p><i>Lady (in disgust).</i> O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take +him away!</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Isn’t that your dog?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> No! no! O, can’t you take the horrid animal away?</p> + +<p><i>Boy (going).</i> Yes, ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Boy</span> <i>with dog</i>. <span class="smcap">Lady</span> <i>prepares to write</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Stupid thing! Now I’ll write. (<i>Repeats.</i>) <span class="smcap">Lost, strayed, or +stolen. A curly, white</span>—(<i>Tap at the door.</i>) Come! (<i>Lays down pen.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Enter ragged <span class="smcap">Boy</span>, with covered basket.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Have <i>you</i> found a dog?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> No, I hain’t found no dog.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Then what do you want?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Father sells puppies. Father said if you’d lost your dog, you’d +want to buy one of ’em. Said you could take your pick out o’ these ’ere +five. (<i>Opens basket for her to look in.</i>)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lady (shuddering).</i> Little wretches! Away with them!</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> They’ll grow, father said, high’s the table.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Carry them off, can’t you?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Father wants to know what you’ll take for your dog, running. +Father said he’d give a dollar, an’ risk the ketchin’ on him.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, +and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry +dollar!</p> + +<p><i>Boy (going).</i> Good mornin’. Guess I’ll be goin’. If I find your dog, I +won’t (<i>aside</i>) let you know.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Boy</span>, with bow and scrape.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady (writes again, and repeats).</i> <span class="smcap">Lost, strayed, or stolen. A +cur</span>—(<i>Knock at the door.</i>) Come! (<i>Lays down pen.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Mulligan</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> An’ is it yourself lost a dog, thin?</p> + +<p><i>Lady (eagerly).</i> Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen +him?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> Och, no. But’t was barkin’ all night he was, behint th’ +’ouse. An’ the b’ys,—that’s me Pat an’ Tim, they <i>drooned</i> him, mum, +bad luck to ’em, in the mornin’ arly.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> And did you see him?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> No, shure.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> And where is he now?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> O, it’s safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o’ No +Bottom Pond, mum.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> And how do you know ’t is my dog?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> Faith, an’ whose dog should it be, thin?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Send your boys, and I’ll speak with them.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan (going).</i> I’ll send them, mum. Mornin’ mum.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Mrs. Mulligan</span>. Another tap at the door.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O, this is not to be borne! Come!</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Countrywoman</span> with bandbox,—not an old woman.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady (earnestly).</i> If it’s about a dog, tell me all you know at once! +Is he living?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Yes’m, but he’s quite poorly. I think dogs shows their +sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin’s.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Do tell quick.</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Just what I want, for I’m in a hurry myself. So I’ll +jump right inter the thick on ’t. You see last night when my old man was +ridin’ out o’ town in his cart, with some o’ his cabbages left over, for +garden sarse hadn’t been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin’ +out on account o’ the off ox bein’ some lame, and my old man ain’t apt +to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, +you—</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> But about the dog!</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Wal, the old man was a ridin’ along, slow, you know,—I +alwers tell him he’ll never set the great pond afire,—and a countin’ +over his cabbageheads and settlin’ the keg o’ molasses amongst ’em, and +a little jug of—(<i>nods and winks and smiles</i>),—jest for a medicine, +you know. For we <i>never do</i>,—I nor the old man,—never, ’xcept in case +o’ sickness.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (impatiently).</i> But what about the dog?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Wal, he was a ridin’ along, and jest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> got to the +outskirts o’ the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin’ +which should have a dog,—a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur—</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Yes! Go on! Go on!</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> And he asked ’em would they take fifty cents apiece and +give it up. For he knew ’t would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they +took the fifty.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (eagerly).</i> And what did he do with him? Where is he now?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Why, I was goin’ to ride in with the old man this +mornin’ to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And +we happened to see that ’ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it +out! (<i>Opening bandbox.</i>) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the +crown o’ my bunnet Seems poorly, but he’ll pick up. (<i>Takes out a white +lapdog.</i>)<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.</p></div> + +<p><i>Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him).</i> ’T is my Carlo. O my +precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and +put him to sleep. (<i>Rises to go out.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> But the five dollars, marm!</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O, you must call again. I can’t think of any paltry five +dollars, now. (<i>Exit.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman (calling out).</i> I’ll wait, marm!</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mike</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> An’ what bisness are ye doin’ here?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Waiting for my pay.</p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Pay, is it? Och, she’ll niver pay the day. She’s owin’ me wages, +an’ owin’ the cook, and Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> Flarty that scoors, and the millinery +lady, an’ ’t is “Carl agin,” she sez. “Carl agin. Can’t ye carl agin?”</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Then I’ll get mine now. (<i>Takes off shawl, and sits +down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning +on her knitting-sheath.</i>) I don’t budge, without the pay.</p> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">Mike</span> looks on admiringly. Curtain drops.</i></p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Whole Word.</span></h4> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">Clerk</span> standing behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to +sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various +placards on the walls,—“No credit.” “Goods marked down!” &c. Enter <span class="smcap">Old +Woman</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (speaking in rather high key).</i> Do you keep stockings?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk (handing box of stockings).</i> O yes. Here are some, very good +quality.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (examining them).</i> Mighty thin, them be.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> I assure you, they are warranted to wear.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> To wear out, I guess.</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Young Married Couple</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Wife (modestly).</i> We wish to look at a few of your carpets.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> This way, ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Husband.</i> Hem! (<i>Clearing his throat.</i>) We will look at something for +parlors.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Here is a style very much admired. (<i>Unrolls carpet.</i>) Elegant +pattern. We import all our goods,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> ma’am. That’s a firm piece of goods. +You couldn’t do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (coming near).</i> A good rag carpet’ll wear out two o’ that.</p> + +<p><i>Wife (to Husband).</i> I think it is a lovely pattern. Don’t you like it, +Charley?</p> + +<p><i>Husband.</i> Hem—well, I have seen prettier. But then, ’t is just as you +say, dear.</p> + +<p><i>Wife.</i> O no, Charley. ’T is just as you say. I want to please you, +dear.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (to Clerk).</i> Have you got any crash towelling?</p> + +<p><i>Husband.</i> What’s the price of this carpet?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Three dollars a yard. Here’s another style (<i>unrolls another</i>) +just brought in. (<i>Attends to Old Woman.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Husband (speaking to Wife).</i> Perhaps we’d better look at the other +articles you wanted. (<i>They go to another part of the store, examining +articles.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Enter a spare, thin <span class="smcap">Woman</span>, in plain dress and green veil.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Can we sell you anything to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I was thinking of buying a carpet.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Step this way, ma’am. (<i>Shows them.</i>) We have all styles, +ma’am.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I want one that will last. (<i>Examining it.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk (taking hold of it).</i> Firm as iron, ma’am. We’ve sold five +hundred pieces of that goods. If it don’t wear, we’ll agree to pay back +the money.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I want one that won’t show dirt.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Warranted not to show dirt, ma’am. We warrant all our goods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> Can it be turned?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Perfectly well, ma’am. ’Twill turn as long as there’s a bit of +it left.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> What do you ask?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, +but you may have it for three dollars.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> Couldn’t you take less?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Couldn’t take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I think I’ll look further. (<i>Going.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Well, now seeing it’s the last piece, you may have it for two +fifty.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I wasn’t expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (<i>Going.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Say two and a quarter, and take +it.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I have decided not to go over two dollars. (<i>Going.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk (crossly).</i> Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In +fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five +yards? I’ll measure it directly.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> Have you got any cotton flannel?</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Fashionable Lady</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clerk (all attention, bowing).</i> Good morning, madam. Can we sell you +anything to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you +anything new?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. +(<i>Shows one.</i>)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> It must light up well, or it will never suit me.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Lights up beautifully, madam.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> Is this real tapestry?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> O, certainly, madam. We shouldn’t think of showing you any +other.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> What’s the price?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can’t offer it for less +than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> ’T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, +the price is no objection.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (coming forward).</i> Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get +a strip to lay down afore the fire. (<i>Speaking to Lady.</i>) Goin’ to give +six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag +carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip ’em up inter +narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in +great balls. That’s your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all +colors. That’s your fillin’. Then hire your carpet wove, and that +carpet’ll last.</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Policeman</span> and a <span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady).</i> That is the person.</p> + +<p><i>Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder).</i> This gentleman, madam, +thinks you have—<i>borrowed</i> a quantity of his lace goods.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment).</i> I? Impossible! +Impossible, sir!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Gentleman.</i> I am sure of it.</p> + +<p><i>Policeman.</i> Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us?</p> + +<p><i>Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a +sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising +money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don’t know which. I never do +know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the +first sounds more melodious.</p> + +<p>They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry’s. +Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the +charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby +carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and +he made a great ado turning it.</p> + +<p>At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a +general smash-up.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want +to have my skates here all ready. ’Most all the boys have got all theirs +already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the +sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play +trainer in when I’s a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you’ll +find ’em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I +are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It’s down +cellar. We went to be weighed, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> the man said I was built of solid +timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, +and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then +at his weights; he didn’t know what to make of it. For I’ve grown so +much faster that we’re almost of a size.</p> + +<p>First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, +and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we +weighed?</p> + +<p>The fellers call us “Dorry & Co.” because we keep together so much. When +he goes anywhere he says “Come, Sweet William!” and when I go anywhere I +say “Come, Old Dorrymas!” There’s a flower named Sweet William. There +isn’t any fish named Dorrymas, but there’s one named Gurrymas. We keep +our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of +our traps. His bed is ’most close to mine, and the one that wakes up +first pulls the other one’s hair. One boy that comes here is a +funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out. +He isn’t a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes +days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He’s got great +eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to +laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, +sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something +spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you’ll find my skates, and send ’em right +off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden +peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come +together, under my trainer trousers; you’ll see the red stripes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn’t +you think ’t was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to +kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too. +“Let’s get up a good one while we’re about it,” says he, “that won’t +kick right out.” Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and +all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took +in peanuts. O, you ought to ’ve seen that bag of peanuts! Held about +half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told +somebody that when anybody said, “Let’s get up something,” it wasn’t +just the same as to say he’d pay part. But we say ’t is. And we talked +about it down to the Two Betseys’ shop, and Lame Betsey said ’t was mean +doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, “Anybody that won’t pay their +part, I don’t care <i>who</i> they be.” And I’ve seen him eating taffy three +times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks +sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if +he’d take any, he took some.</p> + +<p>Now Spicey won’t do that. We said he might kick, but he don’t want to, +not till he gets his quarter. He’s going to earn it. If my skates don’t +hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy’s been +fooling with ’em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a +piece of the floor is broke out. You’d better look down that hole. I’m +going to send home my Report next time. I couldn’t get perfect every +time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he’d know too much to come to +school. But there’s some that do. Not very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> many. Spicey did four days +running. I could ’a got more perfects, only one time I didn’t know how +far to get, and another time I didn’t hear what the question was he put +out to me, and another time I didn’t stop to think and answered wrong +when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the +rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says +he wishes they’d take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and +so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, +and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put +me out. I shouldn’t think visitors would look a feller right in the +face, when he’s trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up +as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any +other kind; don’t you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I +laughed out loud. I didn’t mean to, but I’m easy to laugh. But Dorry he +can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I +was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder +Boy’s cheeks, and he couldn’t tell who snapped ’em, for Bubby Short +would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B. +jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh +coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I +knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some.</p> + +<p>I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I’m going to +send mine and Dorry’s photographs taken together. We both paid half. We +got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. ’T is stopping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +here now. Course we didn’t expect to look very handsome. But the man +says ’t is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make. +Says he tells ’em he has to take what’s before him. Dorry says he’s sure +we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to +make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to +let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates +soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe’s +little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it. +Remember me to my sister.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an +expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the +frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the +three can give his merry laugh.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Grandmother to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Boy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Your father and all of us were very glad to see that photograph, for it +seemed next thing to seeing you, you dear child. We couldn’t bear to +send it away so soon. I kept it on the mantel-piece, with my spectacles +close by, so that when I went past it I could take a look. We sent word +in to your aunt Phebe and in a few minutes little Tommy came running +across and said his “muzzer said he must bwing Billy’s Pokerdaff in, +wight off.” But I told him to tell his muzzer that Billy’s Pokerdaff +must be sent back very soon, and wasn’t going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> out of my sight a minute +while it stayed, and they must come in. And they did. We all think ’t is +a very natural picture, only too sober. You ought to try to look smiling +at such times. I wish you’d had somebody to pull down your jacket, and +see to your collar’s being even. But Aunt Phebe says ’t is a wonder you +look as well as you do, with no woman to fix you. I should know Dorry’s +picture anywhere. Uncle Jacob wants to know what you were both so cross +about? Says you look as if you’d go to fighting the minute you got up.</p> + +<p>Little Tommy is tickled enough with that sled, and keeps looking up in +the sky to see when snow is coming down, and drags it about on the bare +ground, if we don’t watch him.</p> + +<p>I had almost a good mind to keep the skates at home. Boys are so +venturesome. They always think there’s no danger. I said to your father, +“Now if anything should happen to Billy I should wish we’d never sent +them.” But he’s always afraid I shall make a Miss Nancy of you. Now I +don’t want to do that. But there’s reason in all things. And a boy +needn’t drown himself to keep from being a Miss Nancy. He thinks you’ve +got sense enough not to skate on thin ice, and says the teachers won’t +allow you to skate if the pond isn’t safe. But I don’t have faith in any +pond being safe. My dear boy, there’s danger even if the thermometer is +below zero. There may be spring-holes. Never was a boy got drowned yet +skating, but what thought there was no danger. Do be careful. I know you +would if you only knew how I keep awake nights worrying about you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew +how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home +a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won’t tell the price. They are +high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the +window of one of the grand stores, and thought he’d just step in and buy +them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I’m speaking of +the price. Now Georgie doesn’t go to parties, and where the child can +wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to +meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the +broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won’t do, because her meeting +dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege +dress to match ’em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he +heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, +he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has +sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at +the bottom he writes, ☞“Company expected to appear in blue +boots.” So I dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, +and draw my plush moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob +takes her things, and waits upon her to the table, and they have great +fun out of it.</p> + +<p>My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears +cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won’t be so cruel as to +laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don’t depend +upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head +and his heart. When I was a little girl and went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> to school in the old +school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the +school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old +gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to +wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a +gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant +smile, that I haven’t forgotten yet, though ’t was a great many years +ago. After we’d read and spelt, and the writing-books and +ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to +address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every +time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I’ve +remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way.</p> + +<p>“I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear +them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And +because I love them so well, I don’t want there should be anything bad +about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming;—I should be very +sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, +children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. +You can remember three words, can’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” we would say.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, how long can you remember them?” he would ask,—“a week?”</p> + +<p>“Yes sir.”</p> + +<p>“Two weeks?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“A month?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“A year?”</p> + +<p>“Guess so.”</p> + +<p>“All your lives?”</p> + +<p>Then some would say, “Yes, sir,” and some would say they guessed not, +and some didn’t believe they could, and some knew they couldn’t.</p> + +<p>“Well, children,” he would say at last, “now I will tell you what the +three words are: Treat—everybody—well. Now what I want you to be +surest to remember is ‘everybody.’ Everybody is a word that takes in a +great many people, and a great many kinds of people,—takes in the +washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that +come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand +clothes, and the help in the kitchen,—takes in those we don’t like and +even the ones that have done us harm. ‘Treat—<i>everybody</i>—well.’ For +you can afford to. A pleasant word don’t cost anything to give, and is a +very pleasant thing to take.”</p> + +<p>The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he +followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman +that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to +make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn’t wear good +clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the +ones best that wore the best clothes. He’d seen children, and grown +folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and +then be ugly and snappish to poor people they’d hired to work for them. +A real lady or gentleman,—he used to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> end off with this,—“A real lady, +and a real gentleman will—treat—everybody—well.” And I will end off +with this too. And don’t you ever forget it. For that you may be, my +dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your loving Grandmother.<br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, +there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that +picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I +forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. +And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. +And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for +your Report.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue +boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of +those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of +blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six +little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go +in and buy, and now I haven’t one.</p> + +<p>Georgie’s boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her +grandmother knit. And I couldn’t see any harm in her wearing a red dress +with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for +me, and I’ll never turn against them!</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!”</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven’t sniffed +my nose up any at Spicey. I’ll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> tell you why. Because I remember when I +first came, and had a red head, and how bad ’t was to be plagued all the +time. But I tell you if he isn’t a queer-looking chap! Don’t talk any, +hardly, but he’s great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs +itself. But not out loud. Dorry says ’t is a very wide smile. It comes +easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When +you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he +don’t know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and +when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he +laughs. Though he don’t have very much to give. But he can’t say no. All +the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an +apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, “Give me a +taste.” “Give me a taste,” till ’t was every bit tasted away. Then they +tried him on slate-pencils,—his had bully points to them,—and he gave +every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said +’t was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said +they’d done with ’em. Dorry says he’s going to ask him for his nose some +day, and then see what he’ll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he’s +a clever chap. And he won’t kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till +he’s paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he +said, No, I thank you. “Why not?” Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he +guessed he’d rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and +guess he heard about that feller that wouldn’t pay his part, and about +his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +about money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever +take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn’t mean +what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year’s Day, and all that. And +to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He’d heard +of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, +because they knew ’t wouldn’t be asked for. The feller I told you +about—the one that kicks and don’t pay—he owes Gapper Sky Blue for +four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he +knows Gapper won’t ask for two cents! Gapper let him have ’em for two +cents, because he’d had ’em a good while and the edges of ’em were some +crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won’t say +anything ever, and so he’s trying to keep from paying. I guess his left +ear burns sometimes!</p> + +<p>Gapper can’t go round now, selling cakes, because he’s lame, and has to +go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make +tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, +and sell ’em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if +’t isn’t bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up +to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn’t there +only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes +ever so far. Bubby Short ’most got run over by a sleigh. He was going +“knee-hacket” and didn’t see where he was going to, and went like +lightning right between the horses’ legs, and didn’t hurt him a bit.</p> + +<p>Last night when the moon shone the teachers let us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> go out, and they +went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn’t have +the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we’d drag it way up to the top, +and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, +and away we’d go. Once it ’most tipped over. O, I never did see anything +scream so loud as girls can when they’re scared? I wish ’t would be +winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question +we had last was, “Which is the best, Summer or Winter?” And we got so +fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers +to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns +firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter +to take notes, but I don’t know as you can read them, he was in such a +hurry.</p> + +<p>“In summer you can fly kites.</p> + +<p>“In winter you can skate.</p> + +<p>“In summer you have longer time to play.</p> + +<p>“In winter you have best fun coasting evenings.</p> + +<p>“In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats.</p> + +<p>“In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings.</p> + +<p>“In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball.</p> + +<p>“In winter you can coast and make snow-forts.</p> + +<p>“In summer you can go a fishing.</p> + +<p>“So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch +on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole +in the ice and set a light to draw ’em, and then take a jobber and job +’em as fast as you’re a mind to.</p> + +<p>“In summer you can go take a sail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>“In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride.</p> + +<p>“In summer you don’t freeze to death.</p> + +<p>“In winter you don’t get sunstruck.</p> + +<p>“In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing.</p> + +<p>“In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the +icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the +sleigh-bells jingle.</p> + +<p>“In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other +berries.</p> + +<p>“In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and +preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) +and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!”</p> + +<p>(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time.</p> + +<p>“In summer you have Independent Day, and that’s the best day there is. +For if it hadn’t been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria.</p> + +<p>“In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather’s Day and Christmas +and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that’s +Washington’s Birthday. And if it hadn’t been for that we should have to +mind Queen Victoria.”</p> + +<p>When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds +to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but +the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how +glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful +things all the year round. Bubby Short says he’s sure he’s glad, for if +a feller couldn’t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> have fun what would he do? After we got out doors the +summer ones that didn’t go over hollered out to the other ones that did, +“Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! ’Fore I’d be Winter killed! Frost +bit! Frost bit! ’Fore I’d be Frost bit!”</p> + +<p>I should like to see my sister’s blue boots. I am very careful when I go +a skating. There isn’t any spring-hole in our pond. I don’t know where +my handkerchiefs go to.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Don’t keep awake. I’ll look out. Bubby Short’s folks write just so +to him. And Dorry’s. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be +drowned?</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The boys must have been much interested in that “Debating Society.” When +William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called +upon all to take sides.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Georgiana to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Brother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe’s to eat supper, and had on my light blue +boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over +because ’t was snowing, for he said the party couldn’t be put off +because they had got all ready. But the party wasn’t anybody but me, but +he’s all the time funning. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy he had some new +rubber boots, but they didn’t get there till after supper, and then ’t +was ’most his bedtime. But he got into the boots and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> walked all round +with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all +over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he +didn’t want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots +stay on till he got asleep, and then pull ’em off softly as she could. +Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, +without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed +about his boots, because soon as they pulled ’em a little bit, he +reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then +she pulled ’em off softly and stood ’em up in the corner. I carried my +work with me, and ’t was the handkerchief that is going to be put in +this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She +says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but +next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they +made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, +because I was the party, in the best waiter.</p> + +<p>And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped +on,—six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, +and she wouldn’t take a mite of care of them. She won’t let them get +close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on ’em all the time, +and broke one’s leg. She’s a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid +they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, +a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the +pigs. When ’t was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he +put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put +ashes on the fire first, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> they could keep warm all night. And in the +night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought +the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and +tumbled down on to the floor and ’most killed himself so he died +afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the +little pigs all night. For soon as ’t was daylight, and before too, +Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with +him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his +bedroom window that he couldn’t take a nap. He told me to send to you in +my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and +winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning?</p> + +<p>Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that +killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping +this last one in a warm place, for they don’t dare to let it go into the +pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she’s +worse than a cannibal. But I don’t know what that is. He says they kill +men and eat them alive, but I guess he’s funning. She dips a sponge in +milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge.</p> + +<p>Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. +Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs +every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and +waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn’t get himself out, and +when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. +Then he cried. Tommy’s cut off a piece of his own hair.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate sister,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgiana.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sister,</span>—</p> + +<p>You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky +Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. +You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed +that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long +stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that +was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby +Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I +read about the pigs I tell you if they didn’t laugh! And when that +little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the +floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, “Let’s play +have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob’s question.” And we did. +First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to +tell people ’t was time to get up and to let everybody know they +themselves were up and stirring about. Said he’d lain awake mornings, +down in Jersey, and listened and heard ’em say just as plain as day. +“I’m up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!”</p> + +<p>Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the +other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they +didn’t belong. Said he’d lain awake in the morning and heard ’em say, +just as plain as day, “If you do, I’ll give it to you! I’ll give it to +you oo oo oo!”</p> + +<p>But a little chap that had come to hear what was going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> on said ’t was +more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he’d +lain awake in the morning and listened and heard ’em say, “Come on if +you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!”</p> + +<p>Then ’t was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower +kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale +up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I’d lain awake in the +morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try +to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, “Open your mouth +wide and do as I do! Do as I do!” and then the young ones say, “Can’t +quite do so! Can’t quite do so!”</p> + +<p>Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what +anybody said, but he’d always understood they were talking about the +weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to +lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and +where there’d been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how +to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks’ eggs.</p> + +<p>The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our +lessons, so the Debating Society stopped.</p> + +<p>Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? +The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We +had flags flying, and I tell you if ’t wasn’t a bully go! We went ten +miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and +they’d up and hurrah, and then we’d hurrah back again. And one lot of +fellers, if they didn’t let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +driver to stop, and let us give it to ’em good. But he wouldn’t do it. +One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn’t get it unhitched +again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more +than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had +the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He +lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made +believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm ’em in the hay. +We ’most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, +where there wasn’t very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We +all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held ’em in +tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and +then she was so scared she didn’t know what to do, but just stood still +to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for +her to stand close up to the drift, and then there’d be room enough.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p171.jpg" width="448" height="179" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>When I got home I found my bundle and the tin box rolled up in that new +jacket, with all that good jelly in it. Old Wonder Boy peeped in and +says he, “O, there’s quite some jelly in there, isn’t there?” He says +down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> in Jersey they make nice quince-jelly out of apple-parings, and +said ’t was true, for he’d eaten some. Dorry said he knew that was +common in Ireland, but never knew ’t was done in this country. Dorry +says you must keep us posted about the last of the piggies. Keep your +pretty blue boots nice for Brother Billy to see, won’t you? Thank you +for hemming that pretty handkerchief. I’ve counted my handkerchiefs a +good many times, but counting ’em don’t make any difference.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The course of true love it seems did not always ran smooth with Dorry +and William Henry.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>This is only a short letter that I am going to write to you, because I +don’t feel like writing any. But when I don’t write then you think I +have the measles, else drowned in the pond, and I’ll write a little, but +I feel so sober I don’t feel like writing very much. I suppose you will +say,—what are you feeling so sober about? Well, seems if I didn’t have +any fun now, for Dorry and I we’ve got mad at each other. And he don’t +hardly speak to me, and I don’t to him either; and if he don’t want to +be needn’t, for I don’t mean to be fooling round im, and trying to get +him to, if he don’t want to.</p> + +<p>Last night we all went out to coast, and the teachers and a good many +ladies and girls, and we were going to see which was the champion sled. +But something else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> happened first. The top of the hill was all bare, +and before they all got there some of the fellers were scuffling +together for fun, and Dorry and I we tried to take each other down. +First of it ’t was all in fun, but then it got more in earnest, and he +hit me in the face so hard it made me mad, and I hit him and he got mad +too.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p173.jpg" width="448" height="197" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Then we began to coast, for the people had all got there. Dorry’s and +mine were the two swiftest ones, and we kept near each other, but his +slewed round some, and he said I hit it with my foot he guessed, and +then we had some words, and I don’t know what we did both say; but now +we keep away from each other, and it seems so funny I don’t know what to +do. The teacher asked me to go over to the stable to-day, for he lost a +bunch of compositions and thought they might have dropped out of his +pocket, when we went to take that sleigh-ride. And I was just going to +say, “Come on, Old Dorrymas!” before I thought.</p> + +<p>But ’t is the funniest in the morning. This morning I waked up early, +and he was fast asleep, and I thought, Now you’ll catch it, old fellow, +and was just a going to pull his hair; but in a minute I remembered. +Then I dressed myself and thought I would take a walk out. I went just +as softly by his bed and stood still there a minute and set out to give +a little pull, for I don’t feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> half so mad as I did the first of it, +but was afraid he did. So I went out-doors and looked round. Went as far +as the Two Betseys’ Shop and was going by, but The Other Betsey stood at +the door shaking a mat, and called to me, “Billy, where are you going +to?”</p> + +<p>“Only looking round,” I said. She told me to come in and warm me, and I +thought I would go in just a minute or two. Lame Betsey was frying +flapjacks in a spider, a little mite of a spider, for breakfast. She +spread butter on one and made me take it to eat in a saucer, and I never +tasted of a better flapjack. There was a cinnamon colored jacket hanging +on the chair-back, and I said, “Why, that’s Spicey’s jacket!” “Who?” +they cried out both together. Then I called him by his right name, Jim +Mills. He’s some relation to them, and his mother isn’t well enough to +mend all his clothes, so Lame Betsey does it for nothing. He earns money +to pay for his schooling, and he wants to go to college, and they don’t +doubt he will. They said he was the best boy that ever was. His mother +doesn’t have anybody but him to do things for her, only his little +sister about the size of my little sister. He makes the fires and cuts +wood and splits kindling, and looks into the buttery to see when the +things are empty, and never waits to be told. When they talked about him +they both talked together, and Lame Betsey let one spiderful burn +forgetting to turn ’em over time enough.</p> + +<p>When I was coming away they said, “Where’s Dorry? I thought you two +always kept together.” For we did always go to buy things together. Then +I told her a little, but not all about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>“O, make up! make up!” they said. “Make up and be friends again!” I’m +willing to make up if he is. But I don’t mean to be the first one to +make up.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I guess you’ll think ’t is funny, getting another letter again from me +so soon, but I’m in a hurry to have my father send me some money to have +my skates mended; ask him if he won’t please to send me thirty-three +cents, and we two have made up again and I thought you would like to +know. It had been ’most three days, and we hadn’t been anywhere +together, or spoken hardly, and I hadn’t looked him in the eye, or he +me. Old Wonder Boy he wanted to keep round me all the time, and have +double-runner together. He knew we two hadn’t been such chums as we used +to be, so he came up to me and said, “Billy, I think that Dorry’s a mean +sort of a chap, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t,” I said. “He don’t know what ’t is to be mean!” For I +wasn’t going to have him coming any Jersey over me!</p> + +<p>“O, you needn’t be so spunky about it!” says he.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t spunky!” says I.</p> + +<p>Then I went into the schoolroom, to study over my Latin Grammar before +school began, and sat down amongst the boys that were all crowding round +the stove. And I was studying away, and didn’t mind ’em fooling round +me, for I’d lost one mark day before, and didn’t<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> mean to lose any more, +for you know what my father promised me, if my next Report improved +much. And while I was sitting there, studying away, and drying my feet, +for we’d been having darings, and W. B. he stumped me to jump on a place +where ’t was cracking, and I went in over tops of boots and wet my feet +sopping wet. And I didn’t notice at first, for I wasn’t looking round +much, but looking straight down on my Latin Grammar, and didn’t notice +that ’most all the boys had gone out. Only about half a dozen left, and +one of ’em was Dorry, and he sat to the right of me, about a yard off, +studying his lesson. Then another boy went out, and then another, and by +and by every one of them was gone, and left us two sitting there. O, we +sat just as still! I kept my head down, and we made believe think of +nothing but just the lesson. First thing I knew he moved, and I looked +up, and there was Dorry looking me right in the eye! And held out his +hand—“How are you, Sweet William?” says he, and laughed some. Then I +clapped my hand on his shoulder, “Old Dorrymas, how are you?” says I. +And so you see we got over it then, right away.</p> + +<p>Dorry says he wasn’t asleep that morning, when I stood there, only +making believe. Said he wished I’d pull, then he was going to pull too, +and wouldn’t that been a funny way to make up, pulling hair? He’s had a +letter from Tom Cush and he’s got home, but is going away again, for he +means to be a regular sailor and get to be captain of a great ship. He’s +coming here next week. I hope you won’t forget that thirty-three. I’d +just as lives have fifty, and that would come better in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> the letter, +don’t you believe it would? That photograph saloon has just gone by, and +the boys are running down to the road to chase it. When Dorry and I sat +there by the stove, it made me remember what Uncle Jacob said about our +picture.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>The reason that I’ve kept so long without writing is because I’ve had to +do so many things. We’ve been speaking dialogues and coasting and daring +and snowballing, and then we’ve had to review and review and review, +because ’t is the last of the term, and he says he believes in reviews +more than the first time we get it. I tell you, the ones that didn’t get +them the first time are bad off now. I wish now I’d begun at the first +of it and got every one of mine perfect, then I should have easier +times. The coast is wearing off some, and we carry water up and pour on +it, and let it freeze, and throw snow on. Now ’t is moonshiny nights, +the teacher lets all the “perfects” go out to coast an hour. Sometimes I +get out. And guess where Bubby Short and Dorry and I are going to-night! +Now you can’t guess, I know you can’t. To a party! Now where do you +suppose the party is to be? You can’t guess that either. In this town. +And not very far from this school-house. Somebody you’ve heard of. Two +somebodies you’ve heard of. Now don’t you know? The Two Betseys! Suppose +you’ll think ’t is funny for them to have a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> party. But they’re not a +going to have it themselves. Now I’ll tell you, and not make you guess +any more.</p> + +<p>You know I told you Tom Cush was coming. He came to-day. He’s grown just +as tall and as fat and as black and has some small whiskers. I didn’t +know ’twas Tom Cush when I first looked at him. Bubby Short asked me +what man that was talking with Dorry, and I said I didn’t know, but +afterwards we found out. He didn’t know me either. Says I’m a staving +great fellow. He gave Dorry a ruler made of twelve different kinds of +wood, some light, some dark, brought from famous places. And gave Bubby +Short and me a four-blader, white handled. He’s got a fur cap and fur +gloves, and is ’most as tall as Uncle Jacob. He told Dorry that he +thought if he didn’t come back here and see everybody, he should feel +like a sneak all the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>We three went down to The Two Betseys’ Shop with him, and when he saw +it, he said, “Why, is that the same old shop? It don’t look much bigger +than a hen-house!” Says he could put about a thousand like it into one +big church he saw away. Said he shouldn’t dare to climb up into the +apple-tree for fear he should break it down. Said he’d seen trees high +as a liberty-pole. And when he saw where he used to creep through the +rails he couldn’t believe he ever did go through such a little place, +and tried to, but couldn’t do it. So he took a run and jumped over, and +we after him, all but Bubby Short. We took down the top one for him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p179.jpg" width="448" height="250" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The Two Betseys didn’t know him at first, not till we told them. Dorry +said, “Here’s a little boy wants to buy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> a stick of candy.” Then Tom +said he guessed he’d take the whole bottle full. And he took out a +silver half a dollar, and threw it down, but wouldn’t take any change +back, and then treated us all, and a lot of little chaps that stood +there staring. Lame Betsey said, “Wal, I never!” and The Other Betsey +said, “Now did you ever? Now who’d believe ’t was the same boy!” And Tom +said he hoped ’t wasn’t exactly, for he didn’t think much of that Tom +Cush that used to be round here. Coming back he told us he was going to +stay till in the evening, and have a supper at the Two Betseys’, us four +together, but not let them know till we got there. He’s going to carry +the things. We went to see Gapper Sky Blue, and Tom bought every bit of +his molasses candy, and about all the seed-cakes. When I write another +letter, then you’ll know about the party.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Do you think my father would let me go to sea?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>We had it and they didn’t know anything about it till we got there, and +then they didn’t know what we came for. Guess who was there besides us +four! Gapper Sky Blue and little Rosy. Tom invited them. We left the +bundles inside and walked in. Not to the shop, but to the room back, +where they stay. They told us, “Do sit up to the fire, for ’t is a +proper cold day.” They’d got their tea a warming in a little round +tea-pot, a black one, and their dishes on a little round table, pulled +up close to Lame Betsey; seemed just like my sister, when she has +company, playing supper. The Other Betsey, she was holding a skein of +yarn for Lame Betsey to wind, and said their yarn-winders were come +apart. Dorry said, “Billy, let’s you and I make some yarn-winders!” Now +what do you think we made them out of? Out of ourselves! We stood back +to back, with our elbows touching our sides, and our arms sticking out, +and our thumbs sticking up. Then Dorry told her to put on her yarn, and +we turned ourselves round, like yarn-winders.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon Gapper Sky Blue and Rosy came. Then we brought in the +bundles and let ’em know what was up, and they didn’t know what to say. +All they could say was, “Wal, I never!” and “Now did you ever?”</p> + +<p>The Other Betsey said if they were having a party they must smart +themselves up some. So she got out their other caps, with white ruffles, +and put on her handkerchief with a bunch of flowers in the back corner, +but put a black silk cape on Lame Betsey that had a muslin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> ruffle round +it, or lace, or I don’t know what, and a clean collar, that she worked +herself, when she was a young lady, and a bow of ribbon, that she used +to wear to parties, wide ribbon, striped, green and yellow, or pink, I +can’t tell, and both of ’em clean aprons, figured aprons,—calico, I +think like enough,—with the creases all in ’em, and strings tied in +front. I tell you if the Two Betseys didn’t look tiptop! Then they unset +that little round table, and we dragged out the great big one, that +hadn’t been used for seventeen years. The Other Betsey’s grandfather had +it, when he was first married. When ’t isn’t a table, ’t is tipped up to +make into a chair, and had more legs than a spider. Little Rosy helped +set the table. She never went to a party before.</p> + +<p>O, but you ought to ’ve seen the plates! You know your pie-plates? Well, +these were just like them. All white, with scalloped edges, blue +scalloped edges. Only no bigger round than the top of your tin dipper. +The knives and forks—two-prongers—had green handles. And the +sugar-bowl and cream pitcher were dark blue. Tom brought a good deal of +sugar, all in white lumps, and a can of milk. He bought pies and jumbles +and turnovers and ginger-snaps and egg-crackers and cake and bread at +the bake-house, and butter and cheese and Bologna sausage—I can’t bear +Bologna sausage—and some oranges, that he brought home from sea. And +the sweetest jelly you ever saw! Don’t know what ’t is made of, but they +call it guava jelly, and comes in little boxes. I believe I could eat +twenty boxes of that kind of jelly, if I could get it. Dorry says he +don’t doubt they make it out of apple-parings down in Jersey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Other Betsey stood up in a chair and took down her best china cups +and saucers, that used to be her grandmother’s, and hadn’t been took +down for a good many years, and wiped the dust off. Little mites of +things, with pictures on them. We boys didn’t drink tea, only Tom Cush; +we had milk in mugs. Mine was a tall, slim one, not much bigger round +than an inkstand, and had pine-trees on it, blue pine-trees. Dorry had a +china one that was about as clear as glass, that Lame Betsey’s brother +brought home when he went captain, and Bubby Short’s had “A gift of +affection” on it. That was one her little niece used to drink out of +that died afterwards, when she was very little.</p> + +<p>I tell you if that supper-table didn’t look like a supper-table when ’t +was all ready! They set Lame Betsey at the head of the table, because +she couldn’t get up, and Dorry said the one at the head must never get +up, for it wasn’t polite. We took her right up in her chair to set her +there. Then there was some fun quarrelling which should sit at her right +hand, because that is a seat of honor. Tom said Gapper ought to, for he +was the oldest. But he said it ought to be Tom, because he was the most +like company. But at last she said ’t wouldn’t make any difference, +because she was left-handed. The Other Betsey brought some twisted +doughnuts out.</p> + +<p>Now I’ll tell you how we sat.</p> + +<p>Lame Betsey at the head, and the Other Betsey at the other end; Gapper +Sky Blue and Rosy and Bubby Short on the right side, and Tom and Dorry +and I on the left. And if we didn’t have a bully time! The Two Betseys +and Gapper used to know each other, and to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> to school together, and +they told such funny stories, made us die a laughing, and when I get +home you’ll hear some. Then Gapper told Tom Cush that now he was a +sailor he ought to spin us a yarn. When I come home I’ll tell you the +yarn Tom spun. ’T was all about an alligator he saw, and about going +near it in a boat, and what the Arabs did, and what he did, and what the +alligator did. Wait till I come, then you’ll hear about it. Both Betseys +kept putting down their knife and fork, and looking up at him, just as +scared, and kept saying, “Wal, I never!” “Now did you ever!”</p> + +<p>Tom acted it all out. First he cleared a place for a river. Then he took +a twisted doughnut for the alligator and a ginger-snap for a boat. I’ll +tell you about it sometime. Guess ’t wasn’t all true, for you can put +anything you’ve a mind to in a yarn. He told us about the beautiful +birds, and when I told him about one my sister used to have, he said +he’d bring her home a Java sparrow.</p> + +<p>Then he told us about drinking “Hopshe!” I’ll tell how, and I want all +of you to try it.</p> + +<p>Now suppose Hannah Jane was the one to try it.</p> + +<p>First, she takes a tumbler of water in her hand, then you all say +together, Hannah Jane and all, quite fast,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A blackbird sat on a swinging limb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked at me and I at him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once so merrily,—Hopshe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twice so merrily,—Hopshe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice so merrily,—Hopshe!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now I shall tell where the fun comes in.</p> + +<p>While all the rest say, “Once so merrily,” Hannah Jane must drink one +swallow quick enough to say the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> “Hopshe!” with them. Then another +swallow while they say, “Twice so merrily,” and another while they say, +“Thrice so merrily,” and be ready to say the “Hopshe” with them, every +time. We tried it, and I tell you if the “Hopshe’s” didn’t come in all +sorts of funny ways! The Two Betseys told about some funny tricks they +used to try, to see who was going to be their beau.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I saw a dollar bill in Gapper Sky Blue’s hand after Tom Cush bade +him good by. Dorry says how do I know but ’t was more than a dollar +bill, and I don’t.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<p>There was a good deal left for the Two Betseys to eat afterwards. I had +a letter from Mr. Fry.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Aunt,</span>—</p> + +<p>There is going to be a dancing-school, and Dorry’s mother wants him to +go, and he says he guesses he shall, so he may know what to do when he +goes to parties, and his cousin Arthur, that doesn’t go to this school, +says ’t is bully when you’ve learned how. Please ask my grandmother if I +may go if I want to. Dorry wants me to if he does, he says, and Bubby +Short says he means to too, if we two do, if his mother’ll let him. +Dorry’s mother says we shall get very good manners there, and learn how +to walk into a room. I know how now to walk into a room, I told him, +walk right in. But he says his mother means to <i>enter</i> a room, and +there’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> more to it than walking right in. He don’t mean an empty room, +but company and all that. I guess I should be scared to go, the first of +it; I guess I should be bashful, but Dorry’s cousin says you get over +that when you’re used to it. Good many fellers are going. Mr. Augustus, +and Old Wonder Boy, and Mr. O’Shirk. Now I suppose you can’t think who +that is! Don’t you know that one I wrote about, that kicked and didn’t +pay, and that wouldn’t help water the course? The great boys picked out +that name for him, Mr. O’Shirk. The O stands for owe, and Shirk stands +for itself. I send home a map to my grandmother, I’ve just been making, +and I tried hard as I could to do it right, and I hope she will excuse +mistakes, for I never made one before. ’T is the United States. Old +Wonder Boy says he should thought I’d stretched out “Yankee Land” a +little bigger. He calls the New England States “Yankee Land.” And he +says they make a mighty poor show on the map. But Mr. Augustus told him +the brains of the whole country were kept in a little place up top, same +as in folks. So W. B. kept still till next time. Dorry said he’d heard +of folks going out of the world into Jersey. If I go to dancing-school, +I should like to have a bosom shirt, and quite a stylish bow. I think +I’m big enough, don’t you, for bosom shirts? I had perfect this forenoon +in all. I’ve lost that pair of spotted mittens, and I don’t know where, +I’m sure. I know I put them in my pocket. My hands get just as numb now +with cold! Seems as if things in my pockets got alive and jumped out. I +was clapping ’em and blowing ’em this morning, and that good, tiptop +Wedding Cake teacher told me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> come in his house, and his wife found +some old gloves of his. I never saw a better lady than she is. When she +meets us she smiles and says, “How do you do, William Henry?” or Dorry, +or whatever boy it is. And when W. B. was sick one day she took care of +him. And she asks us to call and see her, and says she likes boys! Dorry +says he’s willing to wipe his feet till he wears a hole in the mat, +before he goes in her house. For she don’t keep eying your boots. Says +he has seen women brush up a feller’s mud right before his face and +eyes. My hair grows darker colored now. And my freckles have ’most faded +out the color of my face. I’m glad of it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Nephew,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Aunt Phebe to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>We are very much pleased indeed with your map. Dear me, how the United +States have altered since they were young, same as the rest of us! That +western part used to be all Territory. You couldn’t have done anything +to please your grandmother better. She’s hung it up in the front room, +between Napoleon and the Mourning Piece, and thinks everything of it. +Everybody that comes in she says, “Should you like to see the map my +little grandson made,—my little Billy?” You’ll always be her little +Billy. She don’t seem to think you are growing up so fast. Then she +throws a shawl over her head, and trots across the entry and opens the +shutters, and then she’ll say, “Pretty good for a little boy.” And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +tells which is Maine, and which is New York, and points out the little +arrow and the printed capital letters. Folks admire fast as they can, +for that room is cold as a barn, winters. The last one she took in was +the minister. Your grandmother sets a sight o’ store by you. She’s proud +of you, Billy, and you must always act so as to give her reason to be, +and never bring her pride to shame.</p> + +<p>We are willing you should go. At first she was rather against it, though +she says she always meant you should learn to take the steps when you +got old enough, but she was afraid it might tend to making you +light-headed, and to unsteady your mind. This was the other night when +we were talking it over in your kitchen, sitting round the fire. Somehow +we get in there about every evening. Does seem so good to see the blaze. +Your father said if a boy had common sense he’d keep his balance +anywhere, and if dancing-school could spoil a fellow, he wasn’t worth +spoiling, worth keeping, I mean. I said I thought it might tend to keep +you from toeing in, and being clumsy in your motions. Your Uncle J. said +he didn’t think ’t was worth while worrying about our Billy getting +spoiled going to dancing-school, or anybody’s Billy, without ’t was some +dandyfied coot. “Make the head right and the heart right,” says he, “and +let the feet go,—if they want to.” So you see, Billy, we expect your +head’s right and your heart’s right. Are they?</p> + +<p>The girls and I have turned to and cut and made you a couple of bosom +shirts and three bows, for of course you will have to dress rather +different, and think a little more about your looks. But not too much, +Billy! Not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> too much! And don’t for gracious sake ever get the notion +that you’re good-looking! Don’t stick a breastpin in that shirt-bosom +and go about with a strut! I don’t know what I hadn’t as soon see as see +a vain young man. I do believe if I were to look out, and you should be +coming up my front yard gravel path with a strut, or any sort of +dandyfied airs, I should shut the door in your face. Much as I set by +you, I really believe I should. Lor! what are good looks? What are you +laying out to make of yourself? That’s the question. Freckles are not so +bad as vanity. Anybody’d think I was a minister’s wife, the way I talk. +But, Billy, you haven’t got any mother, and I do think so much of you! +’T would break my heart to see you grow up into one of those +spick-and-span fellers, that are all made up of a bow and a scrape and a +genteel smile! Though I don’t think there’s much danger, for common +sense runs in the family. No need to go with muddy boots, though, or +linty, or have your bow upside down. You’ve always been more inclined +that way. Fact is, I want you should be just right. I haven’t a minute’s +more time to write. Your Uncle J. has promised to finish this.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>This is Lucy Maria writing. The blacksmith sent word he was waiting to +sharpen the colt, and father had to go. He’s glad of it, because he +never likes to write letters. I’m glad you are going to dancing-school. +Learn all the new steps you can, so as to show us how they’re done. +Hannah Jane’s beau has just been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> here. He lives six miles off, close by +where we went once to a clam-bake, when Dorry was here. Georgiana’s +great doll, Seraphine, is engaged to a young officer across the road. He +was in the war, and draws a pension of a cent a week. The engagement +isn’t out yet, but the family have known it several days, and he has +been invited to tea. He wore his best uniform. Seraphine is invited over +there, and Georgie is making her a spangled dress to wear. The wedding +is to come off next month. I do wish I could think of more news. Father +is the best hand to write news, if you can only get him at it. Once when +I was away, he wrote me a letter and told me what they had for dinner, +and what everybody was doing, and how many kittens the cat had, and how +much the calf weighed, and what Tommy said, and seemed ’most as if I’d +been home and seen them. Be sure and write how you get along at +dancing-school, and what the girls wear.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucy Maria.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Aunt,</span>—</p> + +<p>Thank you for the bosom shirts and the ones that helped make them. +They’ve come. I like them very much and the bows too. They’re made +right. I lent Bubby Short one bow. His box hadn’t come. He kept running +to the expressman’s about every minute. We began to go last night. If we +miss any questions to-day, we shall have to stay away next night. That’s +going to be the rule. O, you ought to ’ve seen Dorry and me at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> it with +the soap and towels, getting ready! We scrubbed our faces real bright +and shining, and he said he felt like a walking jack-o’-lantern. I +bought some slippers and had to put some cotton-wool in both the toes of +’em to jam my heels out where they belonged to. I don’t like to wear +slippers. My bosom shirt sets bully, and I bought a linen-finish paper +collar. I haven’t got any breastpin. I don’t think I’m good looking. +Dorry doesn’t either. I know he don’t. That’s girls’ business. We had to +buy some gloves, because his cousin said the girls wore white ones, and +nice things, and ’t wouldn’t do if we didn’t. Yellowish-brownish ones we +got, so as to keep clean longer. But trying on they split in good many +places, our fingers were so damp, washing ’em so long. Lame Betsey is +going to sew the holes up. When we got there we didn’t dare to go in, +first of it, but stood peeking in the door, and by and by Old Wonder Boy +gave me a shove and made me tumble in. I jumped up quick, but there was +a great long row of girls, and they all went, “Tee hee hee! tee hee +hee!” Then Mr. Tornero stamped and put us in the gentlemen’s row. Then +both rows had to stand up and take positions, and put one heel in the +hollow of t’ other foot, and then t’ other heel in that one’s hollow, +and make bows and twist different ways. And right in front was a whole +row of girls, all looking. But they made mistakes theirselves sometimes.</p> + +<p>First thing we learned the graces, and that is to bend way over +sideways, with one hand up in the air, and the other ’most way down to +the floor, then shift about on t’ other tack, then come down on one +knee, with one hand way behind, and the other one reached out ahead as +if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> ’t was picking up something a good ways off. We have to do these +graces to make us limberer, so to dance easier. I tell you ’t is mighty +tittlish, keeping on one knee and the other toe, and reaching both ways, +and looking up in the air. I did something funny. I’ll tell you, but +don’t tell Grandmother. Of course ’t was bad, I know ’t was, made ’em +all laugh, but I didn’t think of their all pitching over. You see I was +at one end of the row and W. B. was next, and we were fixed all as I +said, kneeling down in that tittlish way, reaching out both ways, before +and behind, and looking up, and I remembered how he shoved me into the +room, and just gave him a little bit of a shove, and he pitched on to +the next one, and he on to the next, and that one on to the next, and so +that whole row went down, just like a row of bricks! Course everybody +laughed, and Mr. Tornero did too, but he soon stamped us still again. +And then just as they all got still again, I kept seeing how they all +went down, and I shut up my mouth, but all of a sudden that laugh shut +up inside made a funny sort of squelching sound, and he looked at me +cross and stamped his foot again. Now I suppose he’ll think I’m a bad +one, just for that tumbling in and shoving that row down and then +laughing when I was trying to keep in! He wants we should practise the +graces between times, to limber us up. Dorry and I do them up in our +room. Guess you’d laugh if you could see, when we do that first part, +bending over sideways, one hand up and one down. I tried to draw us, but +’t is a good deal harder drawing crooked boys than ’t is straight ones, +so ’t isn’t a very good picture. The boys that go keep practising in the +entries and everywhere, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> other ones do it to make fun of us, so +you keep seeing twisted boys everywhere. Bubby Short was kneeling down +out doors across the yard, on one knee, and I thought he was taking aim +at something, but he said he was doing the graces. I must study now. +Bubby Short got punished a real funny way at school to-day. I’ll tell +you next time. I’m in a hurry to study now.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Nephew,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Dorry’s just come in. He and Bubby Short and I bought “Seraphine” +some wedding presents and he’s done ’em up in cotton-wool, and they’ll +come to her in a pink envelope. Dorry sent that red-stoned ring and I +sent the blue-stoned. We thought they’d do for a doll’s bracelets. Bubby +Short sends the artificial rosebud. He likes flowers,—he keeps a +geranium. We bought the presents at the Two Betseys’ Shop. They said +they’d do for bracelets. Dorry says, “Don’t mention the price, for ’t +isn’t likely everybody can make such dear presents, and might hurt their +feelings.” We tried to make some poetry, but couldn’t think of but two +lines.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When you’re a gallant soldier’s wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May you be happy all your life!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Dorry says that’s enough, for she couldn’t be any more than happy all +her life. “Can too!” W. B. said. “Can be good!” “O, poh!” Bubby Short +said; “she can’t be happy without she’s good, can she?” But I want to +study my lesson now.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Those bosom shirts are the best things I ever had.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although it would have been a vast sacrifice, I think I would have +almost given my best pair of shoes for a chance of seeing Billy when +dressed to go to the dancing-school. A boy in his first bosom shirt is +such an amusing sight. You can easily pick one out in a crowd by his +satisfied air, and stiff gait; by the setting back of the shoulders, and +the throwing out of the chest,—as if that smooth, white, starched +expanse did not set out enough of itself! Some have a way of looking up +at gentlemen, as much as to say, <i>We</i> wear bosom shirts! But of course +those of us boys and men who have passed through this experience +remember all about it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Lucy Maria to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>That famous wedding came off yesterday afternoon. There were fifteen +invited. I do wish I had time to tell you all about it. Mother made a +real wedding-cake. Georgie has hardly slept a wink for a week, I do +believe, thinking about it. The young soldier wore his epaulets, having +been made General the day before. The bride was dressed in pure white, +of course, with a long veil, of course, too, and orange blossoms, real +orange blossoms that I made myself. The presents were spread out on the +baby-house table. Perhaps you don’t know that Georgie has a baby-house. +It is made of a sugar-box, set up on end papered with housepaper inside, +and brown outside. It has a down below, an up stairs, and garret. I do +wish I had time to tell you all about the wedding, but Matilda’s a +churning, and I promised to part the butter and work it over, if she +would fetch it. I do wish you could hear her singing away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Come, butter, come! come, butter, come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peter stands at the gate, waiting for his buttered cake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, butter, come!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Besides the baby-house table, the presents were laid on the roof of the +baby-house. There were sontags, shoes, hats and feathers, and all sorts +of clothes, the rosebud, your jewelry, and more besides, also spoons, +dishes, gridirons, vases and everything they could possibly want, to +keep house with, even to flatirons and a cooking-stove. The hands of the +happy couple were fastened together, and they stood up (there was a pile +of books behind them). Then the trouble was, who should be the minister? +At last we saw that funny Dicky Willis, your old crony, peeping in the +window, and made him come in and be the minister. He was just the right +one for it. He charged the bridegroom to give his wife everything she +asked for, and keep her in dry kindlings, and let her have her own way, +and always wipe his feet, and not smoke in the house, and never find +fault; and charged her to sew on his buttons, and have plum-pudding +often, and let him smoke in the house, and never want any new clothes, +and always mind her husband, and let him bring in mud on his feet, and +always have a smiling face, even if the baby-house was a burning down +over their heads, and then pronounced them man and wife. I could fill up +half a dozen sheets of paper, if I had time, but I’m afraid of that +butter. Everybody shook hands with them, and kissed them, and the +wedding-cake was passed round, and then the children played</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Little Sally Waters, sitting in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying and weeping for her lost one.”<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>In the midst of everything Tommy came in with Georgiana’s atlas, and +said he’d found “two kick-cases.” He meant those two black hemispheres, +that are pictured out in the beginning. Mother put a raisin in his +mouth, and hushed him up. The happy couple have gone on a wedding tour +to Susie Snow’s grandmother’s <i>country</i> <i>seat</i>. It is expected that they +will live half the time with Georgie, and half at the General’s +head-quarters. But their plans may be altered; this is a changing world, +and a young couple can’t always tell what’s before them. I do wish you’d +write how you get on at dancing-school, and what the great girls wear, +about my age. O dear what an age it is! ’T is dreadful to think of! +’Most eighteen! Did you ever hear of anybody being so old? Now truly I’m +’most ashamed to own how old I am. Eighteen next month! Hush, don’t +tell! Keep it private! I do wish I could grow backwards, and grow back +into a baby-house if ’t were nothing but a sugar-box. I do long to cut +my hair off and go in a long-sleeved tier, and I’ve a good mind to. We +don’t think you made a very good beginning. Guess your Mr.—I can’t +think of his name—thought there was need enough of your learning to +enter a room. Mother’s going to put a note in this letter. I’ve made her +promise not to scold you, but she’s got something particular to say. +Father will too. I told him ’t would be just what you would like, one of +his letters. Matilda says the butter has sent word it’s coming. Write +soon.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucy Maria.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I was very sorry not to be able to attend the wedding. My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> present was +half a dozen holders. The woman with whom I board said I couldn’t give a +bride anything more useful. Her little daughter made them for me, at the +rate of two cents apiece. They were an inch wide, and all had loops at +the corners.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Note from Uncle Jacob.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">How are you, young man</span>?</p> + +<p>I am very glad you go to dancing-school. Boys, as a general thing, are +too fond of study, and ’t is a good plan to have some contrivance to +take their minds off their books. I suppose you’d like to know what is +going on here at home. Your grandmother sits by the fire knitting some +mittens for you to lose, so be sure you do it. [She says, tell him to be +sure when he goes to dancing-school to wear his overcoat.] Your aunt +Phebe is making jelly tarts. Says I can’t have any till meal-time. [Tell +him to be sure and get cooled off some before he comes away.] Your +grandmother can’t help worrying about that dancing-school. Matilda is +picking over raisins for the pies. She won’t sit very close to me. Now +Tommy has come in, crying with cold hands. Lucy Maria is soaking them in +cold water. I don’t doubt he’ll get a tart. Yes, he has. First he cries, +and then he takes a bite. [Tell him not to go and come in his slippers.] +Aunt Phebe says, “Now there’s William Henry growing up, you ought to +give him some advice.” But I tell her that a boy almost in his teens +knows himself what’s right and what’s wrong. Now Georgiana has come in +crying. Says she stepped her foot through a puddle of ice. Grandmother +has set her up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> to dry her foot. Now she’ll get a tart, I suppose! Yes +she has. [Tell him to look right at the teacher’s feet.] That’s good +advice if you expect to learn how. Now your aunt says I’m such a good +boy to write letters she’s going to give me this one that’s burnt on the +edge. [Tell him to brush his clothes and not go linty.] More good +advice. I guess now I’ve got the tart I won’t write any more. Of course +we expect you to do just about right. If you neglect your studies and so +waste your father’s money, you’ll be an ungrateful scamp. If you get +into any contemptible mean ways, we shall be ashamed to own you. Do you +mean to do anything or be anything now or ever? If you do, ’t is time +you were thinking about it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Jacob.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>All between the brackets are messages from your grandmother.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +J. U.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Note from Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>When you get as far as choosing partners, there’s a word I want to say +to you, though, as you’re a pretty good dispositioned boy, maybe there’s +no need; still you may not always think, so ’twill do no harm to say it. +There are always some girls that don’t dance quite so well, or don’t +look quite so well, or don’t dress quite so well, or are not liked quite +so well, or are not quite so much acquainted. Now I don’t want you to +all the time, but sometimes, say once in an evening, I want you to pick +out one of these for your partner. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> know ’t isn’t the way boys do. But +you can. Suppose you don’t have a good time that one dance. You weren’t +sent into the world to have a good time every minute of your life! How +would you like to sit still all the evening? I’ve been spectator at such +times, and I’ve seen how things go on! Why, if boys would be more +thoughtful, every girl might have a good time, besides doing the boys +good to think of something besides their own comfort. If I were you I +wouldn’t try to make fun, but try to learn, for though your father was +willing you should go, and wants to do everything he can for you, he has +to work hard for his money. Lucy Maria is waiting to hear how you get +on.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Phebe.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Lucy Maria.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>I was going to write to you before, how I was getting along, but have +had to study very hard. We’ve been five times. The girls wear slippers +and brown boots and other colors, and white dresses and blue and all +kinds, and long ribbons, and a good many pretty girls go. If girls +didn’t go, I should like to go better. I mean till we know how, for I’d +rather make mistakes when only boys were looking. And I make a good +many, because he says I don’t have time and tune. He says my feet come +down sometimes right square athwart the time. So I watched the rest, and +when they put their feet down, I did mine. But that was a stroke too +late, he said. Said “time and tune waits for no man.” I like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> to +promenade, because a feller can go it some then. We learn all kinds of +waltzes and redowas and polkas. I can polka with one that knows how. +Whirling round makes me light-headed just as Grandmother said. But I get +over it some. We are going to do the German at the last of it. The worst +of it is cutting across the room to get your partners. He calls out when +we’re all standing up in two rows, “First gentleman take the first +lady!” Now, supposing I’m first gentleman, I have to go way across to +first lady with all of ’em looking, and fix my feet right way, one heel +in the other hollow, and then make my bow, and then she has to make that +kind of kneeling-down bow that girls do, and then we wait till all of +’em get across one by one. Then we take the step a little while, and +then launch off round the hall, polking, or else get into quadrilles. +And if we do we make graces to the partners and the corners. I like +quadrilles best, because you can hop round some and have a good time, if +you have a good partner. You can dance good deal better with a good +partner. Last time I had that one the fellers call “real estate,” +because you can’t move her she don’t ever get ready to start, and when +’t is time to turn stands still as a post.</p> + +<p>Dorry and I practise going across after partners, up in our room. You +ought to ’ve seen us yesterday! Dorry was the lady. If he didn’t look +funny! He fixed the table-cloth off the entry table, to make it look +like his mother’s opera-cape, and fastened a great sponge on for a +waterfall, and fizzled out his hair, and had a little tidy on top his +head, and that red bow you sent me right in front of it. Then he stood +out by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> window, and kept looking at his opera-cape, and smoothing it +down, and poking his hair, and holding his handkerchief, the way girls +do, and kept whispering, or making believe, to Bubby Short, the way +girls do. Then I went across and made my bow, and he made that +kneeling-down bow, and then we tried to polka redowa, but our boots +tripped us up, and we couldn’t stand up, and laughed so we tumbled down, +and didn’t hear anybody coming till he knocked, and ’t was the teacher, +come to see what the matter was. Not Wedding Cake, but Old Brown Bread, +and he said dancing mustn’t be brought into our studies, and scolded +more, but I saw his eyes laughing, looking at Dorry. One of the boys +tumbled down stairs, doing the graces in the entry, too near the edge, +and it’s forbidden now. Some of the first-class fellers put up a notice +one night in the entry, great printed letters.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p200.jpg" width="448" height="138" alt="NO ADMITTANCE TO THE GRACES" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>That owl stands for Minerva. I couldn’t make a very good one because I’m +in such a hurry to do my examples. The goddess of wisdom used to be +named Minerva. She was painted with an owl. I’ve been reading it in the +Classical Dictionary. Dorry and Bubby Short and I have just been to the +Two Betseys to get our gloves sewed up, and the Other Betsey said she +used to dance like a top. Then she held her dress up with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> thumbs +and fingers, and took four different kinds of balances. Made us die a +laughing, she hopped up and down so.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S That <span class="smcap">to</span> isn’t left out in the notice, it’s my own mistake.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The remaining letters were probably written during his last term at the +school.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Matilda’s Letter to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>Lucy Maria keeps telling me that I promised to write you a letter, but I +wish I hadn’t promised to write you one, because I don’t like to write +letters very well, for I can’t think of anything to write. But Lucy +Maria she likes to, and that would do just as well as for me to. But +mother says I ought to often, so as to get me in the habit of it. I +don’t have very much time to write very long letters, for the girls are +getting up a Fair, and I am helping do the old woman in her shoe, and +gentlemen’s pincushions, and presents for the arrow table, where the +arrow swings round and points to your present, and so I don’t get very +much time between schools. For we have to write compositions every week +now, and all the girls think the teacher is just as mean as he can be to +make us. We want he should take off some of the compositions and put +more on to our other lessons; but no. He thinks ’t is the best thing we +can do. He don’t care about anything else, I believe. Susie Snow says +she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> believes he’s all made up of composition. Our next subject is +“Economy” and we’ve got to put in time wasted, and health wasted, and +money wasted. Susie Snow is going to put in hers that girls should never +waste their time writing compositions.</p> + +<p>I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in +a sandy desert, I believe. But she don’t have to go to school. Hannah +Jane hasn’t got home from Aunt Matilda’s yet. The minister and his wife +and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond +of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe +brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. ’T is very pleasant +weather. I wish you’d come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are +thick as spatters, and I don’t have much time. The dog stepped on my +sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven’t come up. Father says I better +go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache, +that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that’s in the +Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up +four times, and I’ve brought it in the house and stuck it in a +cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because ’t was used to +pepper at home, but I can’t tell what he means and what he don’t, he +funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to.</p> + +<p>O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But ’t is quite bad news. It +happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us +cried. I couldn’t help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till ’t was big +enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating +supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy +hadn’t got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was. +Father said he didn’t doubt he’d gone to find his turtle. He had a +turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he’d have to +have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep +things about for him when he don’t come straight home to his meals. He’d +rather play than eat. ’T is only a little school he goes to. Not very +far off. Five scholars, that’s all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell +about our cow.</p> + +<p>We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn’t think what the matter +was. ’T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard, +crying and hollering both together, “Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!” Much +as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what ’t was, for he +knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and +Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow! +She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises, +and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper +in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn’t do anything.</p> + +<p>“Rails! rails!” they all called out, and we pulled them out of the +fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft +she sank in so they couldn’t do anything with her. Much as they could do +to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> rotten rail, and it +broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two +canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to +go get some boards. There weren’t any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade’s +new house, and that was too far off, and father said ’t was too late, +for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. ’Most all the women and +girls came away then, for we couldn’t bear to stay any longer to see her +suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes +looked very mournful.</p> + +<p>In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got +her up, but not soon enough. She’s buried now, under the poplar-tree, in +that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed +to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana +about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn’t the best +breed, but she’s part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not +very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent. +Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart, +that don’t hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to +have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can’t screw her +courage up, and can’t take the time. Your father says he wants to see +her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she +might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy’s trousers, +that would be natural. He’s always making barn-doors in his trousers, +he’s such a climbing fellow.</p> + +<p>L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> father’s going to make +up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told +us about, and I’m going to be a music teacher, I guess. I’m going to +begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a +mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha’ n’t I be glad! But Susie Snow +says I shall sing another tune after I’ve taken a little while. Father +says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to +practise two hours a day. I’d just as soon promise that as not. ’T is +just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house. +Seems if I couldn’t believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew +how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now, +William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as +possible.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Matilda.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Cousin Joe has sent me a smelling-bottle, a little gilt one he +brought home, that’s got ninety-four different smells in it. Mother is +writing you a note. She says you can’t dance on her carpet. Father says +he’s sorry he didn’t learn the graces, and means to when you come again. +We can dance in the barn. Tommy has just come in. He says he knows his B +A C’s. He’s a funny boy. He means A B C’s. But he always gets the horse +before the cart. One day we tried to make conundrums, and Georgiana made +this,—see if you can answer it: Which is best, to have plum-cake for +supper and only have a little mite of a piece, or cookies, and have as +many as you want?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>Georgiana’s kitty has just jumped over the fence. She’s after my +morning-glories again. Just as fast as I fasten ’em up, she goes to +playing with the strings and claws ’em down again. Lucy Maria drew a +picture of her doing it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +M.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Note from Dorry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear William Henry’s Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>William Henry wants I should tell you not to be scared when you see +another boy’s handwriting on the back of this letter, and not to think +he’s got cold, or got anything else, like measles, or anything of that +kind, and not to feel worried about his not writing for so long, for he +is all right except the first joint of his forefinger. He crooked that +joint, or else uncrooked it, playing base ball. ’T was a heavy ball and +he took it whole on that joint, and ’t is so stiff he can’t handle a +penholder. He thinks you will all wonder why he doesn’t write, and worry +about his getting sick or something, but he never felt better. Appetite +very good. He has received his cousin Matilda’s letter, and will answer +it when he can. He wants to know what she’d think if she had to write +poetry for composition. Our teacher told us we must each write one verse +about June. I put three of them in for you to see, but don’t put our +names.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“O I love the verdant June,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the birds are all in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the rowers go out to row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the mowers go out to mow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, sweetly smells the fragrant hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As we ride on the load and stow it away.”<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">“In June we can sail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the gentle gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the waters blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And catch cod-fish<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That make a good dish,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And mackerel too.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“In June the summer skies are clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soon green apples do appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And though they’re hard and sour, we know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That every day they’ll better grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This teaches us that boys, also,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Every day should better grow.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P. S. He wants I should tell you ’t is tied up in a rag all right and +don’t hinder his studying. Says he wishes his cousin Lucy Maria would +write him one of her kind of letters, that she knows how to write, and +tell what they are all doing and what they talk about, and when his +finger is well he will answer all the letters they will write to him.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Very respectfully,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Billy’s Friend, Dorry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Aunt Phebe’s Note.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Grandmother worries about that finger. Do ask Dorry to write again, or +else take the penholder in your middle one, though we mistrust that’s +damaged, or you’d have written before this. I’ve had my picture taken +and send you one to keep. Look at it often, and if you’ve done anything +wrong, think it shakes its head at you! Little wrong things, or big +ones, all the same. For little wrongs are more dangerous, because we +think they’re of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> no account. But they show what’s in a person, same as +a little pattern of goods tells what the whole piece is. Show me half an +inch of cotton and I’ll tell you what color the whole spool is.</p> + +<p>I’d no idea of having my picture taken. I was right in the heart of +baking, when your Uncle J. drove up and said he’d harnessed up on +purpose. ’T was all a contrived plan between him and the girls. I saw +them smiling together when Mattie brought out my black alpaca. I thought +the girls seemed mighty ready to take hold and finish up the baking. But +he got caught in his own trap, for Lucy Maria went with us, to make sure +my collar and things looked fit to be taken, and she set her foot down +we shouldn’t leave the saloon till he’d had his, for she was going to +have a locket with us both inside, and I had to be done over small. What +an operation it is to have your picture taken! If we could only take +ether and be carried through! He put my head in a clamp, and crossed my +hands, and pinned up a black rag for me to look at, and told me to look +easy and natural, and smile a very little! I’m sure I tried to, but your +Uncle J. says ’t is a very melancholy face, and Lucy Maria says the +cheek-bones cast a shadow! Your father says the worst of it is, it does +look like me! I think it’s too bad to make fun of it, after all I passed +through! Your Uncle J. took things easy and joked with the man, and was +laughing when the cover was taken off and didn’t dare to unlaugh, he +says, so he came out all right, with a laughing face, as he always is. +The girls want we should be taken large and hang up, side by side, in +two oval frames, over the mantel-piece. But their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> father says he sha’ +n’t be hung up alive, if he can help himself.</p> + +<p>It isn’t likely I shall write to you again very soon. Cousin Joe and his +accordion are coming, and he’ll bring his sisters, and the young folks +about here know them, and I expect there’ll be nothing but frolicking. +Then there’ll be some of your Uncle J.’s folks after that, so you see +we’ll be all in a hubbub and I shall have to be the very hub of the +hubbub, I suppose. Lucy Maria says, “Tell William Henry to send us a +charade, or something to amuse the company with.” Write when you can.</p> + +<p>With a great deal of love, your affectionate</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Phebe.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Take good care of your finger. A finger-joint would be a great +loss. I think cold water is as good as anything. Grandmother wishes you +had some of her carrot salve. Let us hear from you in some way. +Grandmother wants to know if the Two Betseys don’t make carrot salve.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I must add here that Lucy Maria was not the girl to give up those +pictures in “two oval frames.” For by perseverance, and partly with my +assistance, the thing was secretly managed, and managed so well that +Uncle Jacob actually carried them out home himself, in a bundle to Lucy +Maria, without knowing it! And they now hang in triumph over the +fireplace in the “girls’ chamber.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Lucy Maria to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>’T is a pity about that forefinger. Pray get it well enough to handle a +pen, ’t is so long since you’ve written.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> So you want home matters +reported. Eatable matters of course will be most interesting. Milk and +butter, plenty. Gingerbread (plain), ditto. Gingerbread (fancy), scarce. +Cookies, quiet. Plum-cake, in demand. Snaps, lively. Brown-bread, firm. +White-bread (sliced), dull. Biscuits (hot), brisk. Custard, unsteady. +Preserves not in the market.</p> + +<p>What do we do, and what do we talk about? Why, we talk about our cousin +William Henry, and what we do can’t be told within the bounds of one +letter. Think of seven cows’ milk to churn into butter, besides a cheese +now and then, and besides working for the extra hands we hire this time +o’ year! I should have written to you before, when we first heard of +your accident, if I could have got the time. Hannah Jane is away, and +we’ve let Mattie go with Susie Snow to Grandma Snow’s again for a few +days. Grandma Snow likes to have Mattie come with Susie, for ’t is +rather a still, dull place. So you must think we are quite lonesome here +now, and we are, especially mother. Father tells her she’d better +advertise for a companion. I’ve a good mind to advertise to be a +companion. What do companions do? The old lady might be cross, or the +old gentleman, but that wouldn’t hurt me, so long as I kept clever +myself. Don’t doubt I’d get fun out of it some way. There’s fun in about +everything I think.</p> + +<p>I’ve been trying to get father and mother to go to Aunt Lucy’s and stay +all night. But father thinks there wouldn’t be anybody to shut the +barn-door, and mother thinks there wouldn’t be anybody to do anything, +though I’ve promised to scald the pans, and do up the starched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> things, +and keep Tommy out of the sugar-bowl. He takes a lump every chance he +can get. Takes after his father. Father puts sugar on sweetened +puddings, if mother isn’t looking! We’ve made some verses to plague +Tommy, and when Mattie gets her piano, they’re going to be set to music.</p> + +<h4>SONG.</h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Sweet Tommy.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As turns the needle to the pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Tommy to the sugar-bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Tra la la, tra la la!<br /></span> +<span class="i24">Sweet, sweet Tommy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tommy always takes a toll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Going by the sugar-bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Tra la la, tra la la!<br /></span> +<span class="i24">Sweet, sweet Tommy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were Tommy blind as any mole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He’d always find the sugar-bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Tra la la, tra la la!<br /></span> +<span class="i24">Sweet, sweet Tommy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He’s a funny talking fellow. We took him into town last night, to see +the illumination. This morning we heard him and Frankie Snow telling +Benny Joyce about it. Father and I were listening behind the blinds. +Made father’s eyes twinkle. Don’t you know how they twinkle when he’s +tickled?</p> + +<p>“You didn’t see the <i>rumination</i> and we did!” we heard Tommy say.</p> + +<p>“Rumination? What’s a rumination?” asked Benny.</p> + +<p>“O hoo! hoo!” cried Tommy. “Denno what a rumination is!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Why,” said Frankie, “don’t you know the <i>publicans</i>? Wal, that’s it.”</p> + +<p>“O poh!” said Benny. “Publicans and sinners! I knew they’s coming!”</p> + +<p>“And soldiers!” said Frankie. “O my! All a marching together!”</p> + +<p>“O poh!” said Benny. “I see ’em go by. Paint-pots on their heads, and +brushes <i>in</i> ’em! I wasn’t goin’ to chase!”</p> + +<p>“Guess nobody wouldn’t let ye?” said Frankie.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t either!” cried Tommy, “didn’t have paint-pots!”</p> + +<p>“Did!” said Benny. “Guess my great brother knows!”</p> + +<p>“Guess we know,” said Frankie, “when we went!”</p> + +<p>“And the town was all <i>celebrated</i>,” said Tommy. And the houses all +<i>gloomed</i> up! And horses! O my!</p> + +<p>“O poh!” said Benny. “When I grow up, I’m goin’ to have a span!”</p> + +<p>If mother does go, she’ll take Tommy, for she wouldn’t sleep a wink away +from him over night. Father pretends he’d go if he had a handsome span. +Says he hasn’t got a horse in the barn good enough to take mother out +riding. When Mammy Sarah was here washing, she told him how he could get +a good span. You know he’s always joking about taking summer boarders. +Says Mammy Sarah, “Now ’t is a wonder to me you don’t do it, for summer +boarders is as good as a gold-mine. Money runs right out of their +pockets, and all you have to do is to catch it.” She says we could make +enough out of a couple of them, in a month’s time, to buy a handsome +span, and she isn’t sure but the harness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>I think we begin to be a little in earnest about summer boarders. For we +have rooms enough, in both houses together, and milk and vegetables, and +mother’s a splendid cook. Mammy Sarah says, “They ain’t diffikilt, and +after they’ve been in the country couple of weeks, they don’t eat so +very much more than other folks.”</p> + +<p>Father says he wants to take them more for the entertainment than the +money. He wants rich ones, but not the sensible kind, that know money +isn’t the only thing worth having. Says what he wants is that silly, +stuck-up kind, that put on airs, and make fools of themselves, they’d be +so amusing! Thinks the best sort for our use would be specimens that +went up quite sudden from poor to rich, like balloons, all filled with +gas. I believe there’d be lots of fun to be made out of them. I’ve seen +one or two. Gracious! You’d think they weren’t born on the same planet +with poor folks. Mother’d rather have the really well-informed, sensible +kind, that we may learn something from them. A couple of each would be +just the thing. How do you like mother’s picture? We don’t feel at all +satisfied with it. If she could only be taken at home! Then she’d look +natural. Father says the world is going ahead so fast, he believes the +time will come when every family will have its own picture-machine, much +as it has its own frying-pan. Then when folks have on their best +expressions, why, clap it right before them. Then they’ll look homish. +Says what he wants is to have mother’s face when she’s just made a batch +of uncommon light biscuits, or when Tommy’s said something smart. Won’t +there be funny pictures when we can hold up a machine before anybody +any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> minute, like a frying-pan, and catch faces glad, or mad, or sad, or +any way? I made believe take Tommy’s and then showed them to him on a +piece of paper. Guess I’ll put them in the letter. They’ll do to amuse +you. I draw an hour or so every day. First, I have to make my hour. +Sometimes I have to make more. For I will read a little, if the world +stops because of it. But about the faces. First one is when he was +crying because he couldn’t have sugar on his potatoes. Next one is when +he was spunky at Frankie Snow for bursting his little red balloon. The +pleased-looking face is when father brought him home a little ship all +rigged, and the laughing one is when the cow put her head in the window. +We tell him we’ll have them framed and hung up so he can see just how he +looks. Mother says ’t is all very well to laugh at Tommy, but she +guesses some older ones’ pictures wouldn’t always look smiling and +pleasant, take them the year through!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"> +<img src="images/p214.jpg" width="336" height="439" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>As soon as your finger is itself again do write, for we miss your +letters. We expect to have gay times here this summer. Company coming, +but we sha’ n’t make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> company of them. Except to have splendid times. +What shall we do evenings? If you go anywhere where there is anything +going on, do write us about it, so we can go on the same way. When are +you coming? Write me a good long letter when you can.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucy Maria.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Your father is going to write you a letter. Quite wonderful for him. O +William Henry, you don’t know how much I think of your father, and what +a good man he is! I guess you’d better write to your grandmother before +you do me; she’s so pleased to have you write to her.</p> + +<p>Father wants to know when that ball hit you if you <i>bawled</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Lucy Maria’s “picture-taker” made a great deal of fun for them, and +possibly did some good. She constructed a queer long-handled affair, +and, at the most unexpected moments, this would be thrust before the +faces of different members of the family, more especially Tommy, +Matilda, or Georgiana, and their “pictures” would be sure to appear to +them soon after, “glad, or mad, or sad, or any way.”</p> + +<p>And the plan of “summer boarders” also furnished entertainment. The talk +on this subject was quite amusing, particularly when it touched the +subject of “advertising.” Lucy Maria suggested this ending:—</p> + +<p>“None but the silly, or the really well-informed need apply.” But Mr. +Carver thought such a notice would fail of bringing a single boarder. +For silly people did not know they were silly, and the really +well-informed were the very last ones to think themselves so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Aunt Phebe,</span>—</p> + +<p>I thank you for taking your time to write to me, when you have so much +work to do. My forefinger has about recovered the use of itself. The +middle one did go lame a spell, but now ’t is very well, I thank you. +Mrs. Wedding Cake did them up for me. I think she’s a very kind woman. +Dorry says he’d put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes, or lay +down his life, if she wanted him to, or anything else, for the only +woman he knows that will smile on boys’ mud and on boys’ noise.</p> + +<p>Ten of us went on an excursion with the teacher, half-price, to Boston, +and had a long ride in the cars, over forty miles. We went everywhere, +and saw lots of things. Went into the Natural History building. You can +go in for nothing. You stand on the floor, at the bottom and look way up +to the top. All round inside are galleries running round, with alcoves +letting out of them, where they keep all sorts of unknown beasts and +birds and bugs and snakes. Some of those great birds are regular +smashers! ’Most dazzles your eyes to look at their feathers, they’re +such bright red! I’d just give a guess how tall they were, but don’t +believe I’d come within a foot or two. Also butterflies of every kind, +besides skeletons of monkeys and children and minerals and all kinds of +grasses and seeds, and nuts there such as you never cracked or thought +of! They are there because they are seeds, not because they are nuts. +And there’s a cast of a great ugly monster, big as several elephants, +that used to walk round the earth before any men lived in it. If he +wasn’t a ripper! Could leave his hind feet on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> ground and put his +fore paws up in the trees and eat the tops off! They call him a +Megotharium! I hope he’s spelt right, though he ought not to expect it, +and I don’t know as it makes much difference, seeing he lived thousands +of years before the flood, and lucky he did, Dorry says, for the old ark +couldn’t have floated with many of that sort aboard. He wasn’t named +till long after he was dead and buried. Patient waiter is no loser, +Dorry says, for he’s got more name than the ones that live now, and is +taken more notice of. We saw a cannon-ball on the side of Brattle Street +Church, where ’t was fired in the Revolution, and we went to the top of +the State House. Made our knees ache going up so many steps, but it +pays. For you can look all over the harbor, and all round the country, +and see the white towns, and steeples, for miles and miles. Boston was +built on three hills and the State House is on one of them. I can’t +write any more, now.</p> + +<p>W. B. has left school, because his father got a place for him in New +York. His father thought he was old enough to begin. He’s a good deal +older than I am.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Nephew,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p217.jpg" width="448" height="246" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>How do you like this picture of that great Mego—I won’t try to spell +him again—eating off the tree-tops? The leaves on the trees then were +different from the ones we have now. Dorry made the leaves, and I made +the creature.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter to William Henry from his Father.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Son,</span>—</p> + +<p>Perhaps you have thought that because I am rather a silent man, and do +not very often write you a letter, that I have not very much feeling and +do not take interest in you. But no one knows how closely I am watching +my boy as Time is bringing him up from boyhood to manhood.</p> + +<p>Sometimes your grandmother worries about your being where there may be +bad boys; but I tell her that among so many there must be both good and +bad, and if you choose the bad you show very poor judgment. I think if a +boy picks out bad companions it shows there is something bad in himself.</p> + +<p>She says I ought to keep giving you good advice, now you are just +starting in life, and charge you to be honest and truthful and so forth. +I tell her that would be something as it would be if you were just +starting on a pleasant journey, and I should say, “Now, William Henry, +don’t put out your own eyes at the beginning, or cut the cords of your +legs!” Do you see what I mean? A boy that is <i>not</i> honest and truthful +puts out his own eyes and cripples himself at the very beginning.</p> + +<p>There is a good deal said about arriving at honor and distinction. I +don’t want you to think about <i>arriving</i> at honor. I want you to take +honor to start with. And as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> for distinction, a man, in the long run, is +never distinguished for anything but what he really is. So make up your +mind just what you want to pass for, and be it. For you will pass for +what you are, not what you try to appear. Go into the woods and see how +easily you can tell one tree from another. You see oak leaves on one, +and you know that is oak all the way through. You see pine needles on +another, and you know that is pine all the way through. A pine-tree may +want to look like an oak, and try to look like an oak, and think it does +look like an oak, as it can’t see itself. But nobody is cheated. So a +rascally fellow may want to appear fair and honest, and try to appear +fair and honest, and think he does appear fair and honest, as he can’t +see himself. But, in the long run, nobody is cheated. For you can read a +man’s character about as easy as you can the leaves on the trees. +Sometimes I sit down in a grocery store and hear the neighbors talked +about, and ’t is curious to find how well everybody is known. It seems +as if every man walked round, labelled, as you may say, same as preserve +jars are labelled, currant, quince, &c. Only he don’t know what his +label is. Just as likely as not a man may think his label is Quince +Marmelade, when ’t is only Pickled String Beans!</p> + +<p>Just so with boys. Grown folks notice boys a great deal, though when I +was a boy, I never knew they did. The little affairs of play-time and +school-time, and their home-ways are all talked over, and by the time a +boy is twelve years old, it is pretty well known what sort of a man he +will make.</p> + +<p>Now don’t mistake my meaning. I don’t want you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> be true because +people will know it if you are not, but because it is right and noble to +be so. I want you to be able to respect yourself. Never do anything that +you like yourself any the less for doing.</p> + +<p>A boy of your age is old enough to be looking ahead some, to see what he +is aiming at. I don’t suppose you want to drift, like the sea-weed, that +lodges wherever the waves toss it up! Set up your mark, and a good high +one. And be sure and remember that, as a general thing, there is no such +thing as luck. If a man seems to be a lucky merchant, or lawyer, or +anything else, ’t is because he has the talent, the industry, the +determined will, that make him so. People see the luck, but they don’t +always see the “taking pains” that’s behind it. I remember you wrote us +a letter once, and spoke of a nice house, with nice things inside, that +you meant to have by “trying hard enough.” There’s a good deal in that. +We’ve got to try hard, and try long, and try often, and try again, and +keep trying. That house never’ll come down to you. You’ve got to climb +up to it, step by step. I don’t know as I have anything to say about the +folly of riches. On the contrary, I think ’t is a very good plan to have +money enough to buy books and other things worth having. I don’t see why +a man can’t be getting knowledge and growing better, at the same time he +is growing richer. Some poor folks have a prejudice against rich folks. +I haven’t any. Rich people have follies, but poor people copy them if +they can. That is to say, we often see poor people making as big fools +of themselves as they can, with the means they have. Money won’t hurt +you, Billy, so long as you keep common sense and a true heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>We are all watching you and thinking of you, here at home. If you +<i>should</i> go wrong ’t would be a sad blow for both families. Perhaps I +ought to tell you how I feel towards you, and how, ever since your +mother’s death, my heart has been bound up in you and Georgie. You would +then know what a crushing thing it would be to me if you were found +wanting in principle. But I am not very good, either at talking or +writing, so do remember, dear boy, that even when I don’t say a word, +I’m thinking about you and loving you always. God bless you!</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Father.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>W. B., it seems, from his own account, set sail on the great sea of +commerce with flying colors, and favorable winds,—probably the +Trade-winds.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Old Wonder Boy to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend,</span>—</p> + +<p>I like my place, and think it is a very excellent one. It is “Veazey & +Summ’s.” When you get a place it is my advice that you should procure +one in New York, as New York is greatly superior to Boston. Boston is a +one-horse place. I wouldn’t be seen riding in that slow coach. +Washington Street could be put whole into Broadway, and not know it was +there hardly, for you could travel both sides and all round it. Our +store is a very excellent store. Some consider it greatly superior to +Stewart’s. All our clerks dress in very superior style and go in very +good society, and so I learn to use very good language. We keep boys to +do the errands, and porters. All the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> stylish people do their trading +here. The young ladies like to trade with me very much. The New York +ladies are greatly superior to any other ladies. The firm think a great +deal of me, so I expect to be promoted quite fast. I am learning to +smoke. I have got a very handsome pipe. The head clerk thinks it has got +a very superior finish to it. We two are quite thick. How are all the +fellers? Write soon. Remember me to all inquiring friends, and excuse +handwriting.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Walter Briesden.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Matilda.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>Now I’m going to answer your letter, and then I sha’ n’t have to think +about it any longer. I was sorry to hear about poor Reddie. But if it +had been Tommy, then it would have been a great deal worse. Think of +that. Dorry and I have been wishing ’most a week about something, and +now I’ll tell you what ’t is about. About a party. ’T is going to be at +Colonel Grey’s. He lives in a large light-colored brick house, with a +piazza round it, and a fountain, and bronze dogs, and everything lovely. +It is Maud Grey’s birthday party. Sixteen years old. Old and young are +going to be invited, because her little sister’s birthday comes next day +to hers. Now sometimes when there’s a party some of the biggest of our +fellows get invited, because there are not very many young gentlemen in +town, and they are glad to take some from the school. But we two never +have yet. But Dorry thinks we stand a better chance now, for we’ve been +to dancing-school,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> and will do to fill up sets with. Maud Grey didn’t +go as a scholar, but she went spectator sometimes, and took my partner’s +place once, when her string of beads broke. Dorry was in the same set. I +never polkaed better in my life, for she took me round and made me keep +time whether I wanted to or not, but I told Dorry I felt just like a +little boy that had been lifted over a puddle. He’s afraid she won’t +remember us, but I guess I’m afraid she will, and then won’t invite such +a bad dancer. We two thought we’d walk by the house, just for fun, and +make ourselves look tall. So we held up our chins, and swung two little +canes we’d cut, going along, for small chaps are plenty enough, but +young gentlemen go off to college, or stores, soon’s they’re of any +size. The blinds were all shut up, but Dorry said there was hope if the +slats were turned the right way. Blind slats here move all ways. +Yesterday, in school-time, I saw a colored man coming towards the +school-house, and thought ’t was Cicero, the one that works for Colonel +Grey, coming with the invitations, and made a loud “hem!” for Dorry to +look up, and a hiss, to mean Cicero, and pointed out doors. ’t wasn’t +very loud, but that one we call Brown Bread, that has eyes in the back +of his head, and ears all over him, and smells rat where there isn’t +any, and wears slippers, so you can’t hear him, even if ’tis still +enough to drop a pin,—I thought he was over the other side of the room, +tending to his own affairs, but all of a sudden he was standing just +back of me, and I had to lose a recess just for that. And ’t wasn’t +Cicero after all, but the one that comes after the leavings.—(Somebody +knocks.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Afternoon.</i>—Hurrah! We’re going! The one that knocked at the door was +Spicey, with our invitations. When I come home I’ll bring them home to +show. They came through the post-office. We expect they all came to the +professor, with orders to pick out the ten tallest ones, for they are +directed in his writing. I never went to such a party, and shouldn’t +know how to behave, if ’t wasn’t for Dorry. First thing you do is to go +up and speak to the lady of the house and the lady of the party. I mean +after you’ve been up stairs, and looked in the looking-glass and +smoothed down your hair. Mine always comes up again. I’ve tried water +and I’ve tried oil, and I’ve tried beef-marrow, but ’t is bound to come +up. Dorry says I ought to put it in a net. Don’t you remember that time +I had my head shaved off close, and how it looked like an orange? I’m +glad ’t isn’t so red as it was. ’T is considerable dark now. When you +come down you walk up to the lady of the house and say “How do you do?” +and shake hands, and when you go home you have to bid her good-night, +and say you’ve had a very pleasant time, and shake hands again. Not +shove out your fist, as if you were shoving a croquet-ball, but slow, +with the fingers about straight, and not speak it out blunt, as if you +were singing out “good-night!” to the fellers, but quite softly and +smiling. Dorry’s been showing me beforehand. Bubby Short stood up in the +floor, and had the bedspread tied round him with a cod-line, for a +trail, and shavings for curls. He was the lady of the house and we +walked up to him, and said, “How do you do, Mrs. Grey?” and so forth. +Dorry drew this picture of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> us. He draws better than I do. I will write +about the party.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 431px;"> +<img src="images/p225.jpg" width="431" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="sig"> +From your Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Now if you will be a good little grandmother, and promise never to worry +any more, then I’ll tell you about that party. We had to wear white +gloves. I’ll begin at the outside. The piazzas had colored lights +hanging round them, and there were colored lights hung in the trees and +the gateways. ’T was a foggy night, and those colored lights lighted up +the fog all around, so when you came towards the place it looked just +like a great bright spot in the midst of darkness. There was a tall +lady, standing in the middle of the room, with a splendid dress on, +dragging way behind her, and I went right up to her, and just got my +foot the way Mr. Tornero told us, and the palm of my hand right, when +Dorry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> jerked me back by my jacket and said she wasn’t the right one. +You see we got belated, going back after our clean pocket-handkerchiefs, +and hurried so that Dorry fell down and muddied his trousers’ knees, but +lucky ’t was close to the Two Betseys’ shop, for we went in there and +got sponged up, but we had to wait for ’em to dry. Lame Betsey said she +used to take care of Maud Grey when she was a little scrap, and she +wanted to make her a birthday present. So they both hunted round, to see +if they had anything. In the desk they found a little thin book, a +funny-looking old blue-covered book, “Advice to a Young Lady,” that was +given to Lame Betsey when she was young. The title was on the blue +cover. ’T was a funny-looking thing and it smelt snuffy. She asked me to +give it to Maud, after she’d written her name in it. I tell you now Lame +Betsey makes quite good letters! I didn’t want to take the book, but I +did, for both Betseys are clever women.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p226.jpg" width="448" height="241" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>All this was the reason we got belated, and Mrs. Grey had got mixed up +with the other people, but we found her and did the right thing by her. +And Maud too. I don’t think any of you would believe that I could +behave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> so well! so polite I mean. Course I didn’t feel bashful any! O +no!</p> + +<p>They had four pieces, and they played as if they knew how. I didn’t +dance at the first of it. Didn’t dare to. ’T was too light there. The +carpets were covered with white. Then chandeliers, and lamps, and wax +candles, and flowers everywhere they could be, set up in vases,—one +lady called vases, varzes,—and hanging-baskets. I never was in such a +beautiful place. The ladies sang at the piano, and the young gentlemen +turned their leaves over. O you ought to ’ve heard ’em when the tunes +went up, up, up! Enough to make you catch your breath! Seemed as if it +could never get down again. I don’t like that kind. But Dorry said ’twas +opera style and nobody was to blame but me, if I didn’t like it. Now +John Brown’s Body, I like that, and when they all sang that, I joined +right in, same as any of them. For I knew I knew that tune. But first +one looked round at me, and then another looked round at me, as if +something was the matter. I thought I saw ’em smiling. Then I kept +still. But I didn’t know I was singing wrong. O, I do wish I knew what +this singing is! Seems easy enough. Now when the tune goes up loud, I go +up loud, and when that goes down low, I go down low. But Dorry says it +isn’t singing. Says ’tis discord. But I can’t tell discord from any +other cord, and he says the harder I try, the worse noise I make. I do +wish I could roar out that Glory Hallelujah! for I feel the tune inside +of me, but it never comes out right. Dorry laughs when I set out to +sing. He says I chase the tune up and down all the way through,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> and +never hit it! Now, if ’t is right inside, why can’t it come out right? I +don’t see!</p> + +<p>We went into a large room to eat refreshments, and I wish Aunt Phebe +could see the things we had. And taste of them too. I saved the frosting +off my cake for Tommy. ’T is wrapped up in a paper in my trunk. ’T is +different from your frosting, good deal harder. I had a sort of funny +time in that room. Somebody had to hit my elbow when I was passing +custard to a girl, and joggled over a mess of it on to her white dress +and my trousers. I whipped out my pocket-handkerchief to sop it up, and +whipped out that little blue book. Somebody picked it up, and one young +man, that had been cutting up all the evening, Maud Grey’s cousin, he +got hold of it and read her name and called out to her to come get her +present, and made a good deal of fun about it, and began to read it +loud. She wanted to know who brought it, and somebody told her I was the +one. I began to grow red as fire, but all of a sudden I thought, Now, +Billy, what’s the use? So I said very plain, “Miss Grey, Lame Betsey +sent you that book.” She didn’t laugh very much, only smiled and asked +me to tell Lame Betsey she was glad that she remembered her. Guess she +thought I looked bashful, for afterwards she asked me if I wouldn’t try +a polka with her. I don’t think she’s very proud, for when I was looking +at a painted vase, she came and told me how it was done, for all I +wasn’t much acquainted with her. She talked to me as easy and sociable +as if she’d been Lucy Maria.</p> + +<p>A company of us got together in one of the rooms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> and ate our ice-creams +there, and while we were eating them, we beheaded words. Lucy Maria must +read this letter, for she’ll want to know how. When you behead a word +you take off the first letter. It’s fun, when you get beheading them +fast. The spelling mustn’t be changed. Dorry made some of these. I +didn’t. I couldn’t think fast enough.</p> + +<p>Behead an article of dress, and you leave a farming tool.</p> + +<p>Shoe—hoe.</p> + +<p>I’ll put the rest of the answers at the bottom, so as to give all of you +a chance to guess what they are.</p> + +<p>1. Behead what leads men to fight, and you leave the cause of much +misery, sin, and death.</p> + +<p>2. Behead what young ladies are said to be fond of, and you leave a +young lady.</p> + +<p>3. Behead what comes nearest the hand, and you leave what comes nearest +the heart.</p> + +<p>4. Behead something sweet, and it leaves an address to the sweet.</p> + +<p>5. Behead part of a coach, and you leave part of yourself. Behead that, +and you leave a fish.</p> + +<p>6. Behead a rogue, and you leave a musician.</p> + +<p>7. Behead an old-fashioned occupation, and you leave what prevents many +a parting.</p> + +<p>8. Behead a part of ladies’ apparel, and you leave what is higher than +the king.</p> + +<p>9. Behead what always comes hard, and you leave what makes things go +easy.</p> + +<p>10. Behead a weapon, and you leave a fruit. Behead that, and you leave +part of the body.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Drum, rum.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">2. Glass, lass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">3. Glove, love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">4. Molasses, O Lasses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">5. Wheel, heel, eel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">6. Sharper, harper.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">7. Spin, pin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">8. Lace, ace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">9. Toil, oil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">10. Spear, pear, ear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Sometimes they make them in rhyme.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behead what is born in the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And lives but a moment or so,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For it can’t live long you know,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you leave what all admire.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where grass so green doth grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And trees in many a row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behead this last, and you leave in its place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What once preserved the human race.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Spark, park, ark.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behead a musical term so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you leave what runs without any feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behead again, and, sad to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You leave what is sick and never gets well.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To what is left add the letter D,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And you have a lawyer of high degree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Trill, rill, ill, “LL D.”</p> + +<p>I’ve got something a good deal funnier to tell, but I’m going to write +all about that in Lucy Maria’s letter. I guess she’ll be very glad when +she gets that letter, for ’twill tell her how to do something very +funny. I will send her the story of it too, so she won’t have to make up +anything herself. Don’t you think I had a pretty good time? I hope my +sister is well, and hope you all are. Lucy Maria must read this letter. +She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> could make those beheadings quicker’n lightning. I am well. Don’t +believe I shall ever be sick.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I’ve been to a lecture on good health. The man said there were two +parts to the air, a good part and a poison part, and every time we +breathe we keep in the good part, and breathe out the poison part. So if +a room were sealed up, air-tight, a man living in it would soon die, for +he would use up all the good part and leave the poison part. So we ought +to always let fresh air in, that hasn’t been breathed. He says in a +crowded room, if there is no fresh air coming in, we have to use over +what other folks have breathed, whether they are sick or well.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>What with our young friend’s frequent visits to the Two Betseys, his +attendance at the dancing-school, and going to parties and to lectures, +it would seem as though his time was not wholly taken up with his +studies. Among William Henry’s letters to Lucy Maria I find the +following one about the Dwarf, and with it, in Lucy Maria’s handwriting, +I find a copy of the Narrative alluded to.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Lucy Maria.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>I guess you will want to know how this was done, that I’m going to write +about, so I will tell you about it, then you will know how to make one +out of Tommy, but I guess a bigger boy would be better. It doesn’t make +much difference about the size, if he can keep a sober<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> face while +somebody tells a story about him, and do the things he’s told to. I +couldn’t guess how ’t was done till Bubby Short told me. Bubby Short was +the dwarf. He was invited on purpose, because he is up to all kinds of +fun, and can act dialogues, be an old man, or old woman, or anything you +want him to. I will tell you exactly how ’t was done, so you will know. +And I will send you the Narrative to copy. But you can’t keep it very +long. It was given to Bubby Short. The showman was Maud Grey’s cousin. +He was dressed in a turban, with long robes, and he had black rings made +round his eyes, and his face was tatooed with a lead-pencil. Course he +made up the story and made the pictures to it too. But he pretended he +got them in the dwarf’s country, that was named “Empskutia.” I thought +maybe you’d like to read it, then if you made one you could think of +something to say. ’T was only meant for the little ones, he said, but we +all liked to hear it. No matter if it was nonsense, we didn’t care. Now, +I’ll begin.</p> + +<p>First, they had a table, with a long table-cloth on it that touched the +floor. It must touch the floor, so as to hide the <i>real</i> feet of the one +that’s going to be the dwarf. When Bubby Short was all ready he sat down +to the table, same as if he’d been doing his examples or eating his +dinner,—sat facing the company and waited for the curtain to rise. +Course you have to have a curtain. The table-cloth covered the lower +part of him. His own hands and arms were turned into feet and legs for +the dwarf. I’ll tell you how. The arms had little trousers on them, and +the hands were put into nice little button-boots,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> so they looked like +legs and feet. He was all stuffed out above his waist, and had on a +stiff shirt bosom, and breastpin, and necktie, and false whiskers, and a +wig made of black curled hair, and a tasselled cap, with a gilt band +round it. He crooked his arms at the elbows and laid them flat on the +table, with the button-boots towards the curtain, so when the curtain +went up it looked like a little dwarf sitting down, facing the company. +Now I must tell you where the dwarf’s arms and hands came from. For you +know that Bubby Short’s arms and hands were made into legs and feet for +the dwarf. Now to make arms, he had on a little coat, with the sleeves +of it stuffed out to look like arms, and then a stuffed pair of white +cotton gloves was sewed on to the sleeves, to look like hands, and these +gloves were pinned together by the fingers in front of his waist so as +to look like clasped hands.</p> + +<p>The showman asked him to do different things. Asked him to try to stand +up. Then Bubby Short began to get up, very slow, as if ’t was tough work +to do it, and let his arms straighten themselves down, and looked just +as if there was a little short fellow standing on the table. I thought +like enough you’d like to know how, so as to make one some time, out of +Tommy or some bigger boy that knows how to whistle. The showman made his +dwarf whistle a funny tune, and told us ’t was an air of his native +country. Then made him step out the tune with his little button-boots, +and it seemed just like a little dancing dwarf. The showman said that +was the national dance of his country. I guess Uncle Jacob would like to +see one. I guess his eyes would twinkle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the curtain went up you ought to ’ve heard the folks roar! Some of +them thought ’t was real. When the company asked him if he could move +his arms, he shook his head, no. Then the showman said he could make him +do it, by whispering a charm in his ear. So he went close up and +whispered, and took out the pin that pinned the gloves, in a secret way, +and then the arms dropped apart. All the way he could move his arms was +by shaking his body, and then only a little. The showman said the +fearful accident that stopped his growth lost him the use of his arms, +though he could dance and whistle and make a bow [<i>here he made him make +a bow</i>], and could scratch his ear with his boot [<i>here he scratched his +ear with the button-boot-toe</i>], but his brain was strong as anybody’s. +Then afterwards he told how much he knew. But you can read about it in +the Narrative. He made him crook his knees sideways. He could do this +easy enough, for ’t was only the elbows bending outwards. Then he made +him sit down again. I don’t believe any of you ever saw anything so +funny. The showman kept a very sober face all the time, and ’most made +us believe every word of his story was true, and at the end he spoke +very loud and acted it out, like an orator.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Will you please send back the picture of that creature we sent you +once? We want to do something with it. I put in the Narrative some of +the things the audience did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>NARRATIVE.</h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear young Friends,</span>—</p> + +<p>Hyladdu Alizamrald, the unfortunate gentleman now before you, was born +in the country of Empskutia, on the borders of the great unknown region +of Phlezzogripotamia, which lies beyond the sources of the river +Phlezzra. He was the only child of a nobleman, whose wealth was +unbounded, and whose power was immense. The day of his birth was made a +day of rejoicing throughout the city. Not only were fountains of wine +set flowing, that none might go athirst (for the Empskutians are driest +when they’re happiest), but living fountains of milk also, that every +child might, on that happy day, drink its fill of the pure infantine +fluid. It is perhaps needless to remark that these last were cows, +driven in from the surrounding plains.</p> + +<p>Hyladdu was an infant of great promise, and bade fair to become the +pride of his native land, instead of being—of being—pardon my emotion. +[<i>Showman puts handkerchief to his eyes. Hyladdu wipes away a tear with +his boot-toe.</i>] Yes, gentlemen and ladies [<i>calmer</i>], at his birth there +seemed to be no reason why Hyladdu’s head should not rise as far towards +the clouds as will yours, my smiling young friends before me. Briefly, +he was not born a dwarf. Shall I relate how this sweet flower of promise +was nipped in the bud? [<i>The audience cry, “Yes! yes!” Hyladdu takes his +handkerchief in both boots and wipes his eyes.</i>]</p> + +<p>Listen, then. When Hyladdu had reached the age of eighty-one +days—eighty-one being the third multiple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> of three—his parents, +according to the custom of the country, summoned to the cradle of the +young child a Thulsk.</p> + +<p>The Thulski are a tall, mysterious race of prophets, known only in +Empskutia, who attain to an unknown age. Many of them cannot even +remember their own boyhood. These prophets are reverenced by all the +people. As year after year is added to their life, they grow thin, dark, +and shrivelled, like mummies. The skin is dry and hangs loose about the +bones. The hair is long and white, and every year adds to its length and +its whiteness, while the eyes seem blacker and more piercing. They wear +very high black caps, square, and carry in the hand a peculiar flower, a +snow-white flower, having five petals, which grows in secret places, and +which, even if found, no other person ever dare to pluck, lest its +peculiar smell should work a charm upon them. None but the Thulski +themselves know when and where the Thulski die. If they have graves they +are unknown graves, though it is a common belief in the country that the +mysterious white-petalled flower blooms only in their burial-places. +During life they live apart from all others, seldom speaking, even when +mingled in the busy crowd.</p> + +<p>The order of the Thulski is kept up in this way. Their chief, clad in +long dark robes, wanders silently the streets, and when, among the +children at play, he discovers one who has some peculiar mark about +him,—the nature of this mark is unknown,—he beckons, and the child +follows him. Must follow him. For that silent beckoning joins him to +their order. He is from that moment a Thulsk, and has no wish to +escape.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, although to be a Thulsk is to be certain of long life, yet no +mother desires this fate for her child, but, on the contrary, children +are warned against them, and have among themselves a secret sign, a +rapid motion of the fingers, which means “scatter!” And if, when they +are at play, the white-haired prophet is seen, though even at a great +distance, this sign is rapidly made, and the little flock disappears so +instantly, one would suppose the earth had swallowed them. You will see, +before my melancholy story is finished, what all this has to do with +Hyladdu’s misfortune.</p> + +<p>As I was saying, when he had attained the age of eighty-one +days,—eighty-one being the third multiple of three,—his parents, +according to the custom of the Empskutians, summoned one of these +prophets to the cradle of their child, that his fortunes might be +foretold.</p> + +<p>The weird, shrivelled old Thulsk, with his flowing white hair, wrapped +his dark robes about him, and sat silently at the low cradle, gazing +upon the sleeping child. At length he arose, with a look of sorrow, and +would have departed without uttering a single word.</p> + +<p>“Speak! speak!” cried the father.</p> + +<p>“Ah, do not speak!” murmured the mother; for she perceived that the +prophet foresaw evil. “Yet speak, yes, speak!” she cried. “Let us know +the worst, that we may prepare ourselves.”</p> + +<p>The prophet then made a reply, of which these five words are a +translation:—</p> + +<p>“Sorrow cometh sufficiently soon. Wait!”</p> + +<p>But, on being very earnestly entreated, he disclosed that before the +beautiful infant attained his sixth year—six<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> being the double of +three—he would sustain injuries from a fall, by which either his mind +or his body would be blighted. Which, it was not given him to say. He +added that it grieved him to still further disclose that he himself +would be in some way connected with the child’s misfortune, though in +what way even his prophetic vision could not foresee.</p> + +<p>Now it may readily be supposed that the parents spared no pains to ward +off from their child this unknown danger. The upper windows were +immediately fastened down, fresh air being secured by means of hinges on +each square of glass. As soon as he could walk sentinels were placed at +every flight of stairs, and to keep him out of the cellar, a neighboring +wine-merchant was invited to store his goods there, so that wine-butts +took up every inch of room, from floor to ceiling. Ladders and movable +steps he was not allowed the sight of, and as it seems as natural for +boys to climb trees as to breathe the air around them, every tree in the +grounds was protected by sharp iron teeth.</p> + +<p>The longing which every boy has to climb is called the climbing +instinct. In Hyladdu the climbing instinct was nipped in the +bud,—smothered, crushed, kept under. He was forbidden to swing on +gates, taught to avoid fence-posts, lamp-posts, and flag-staffs, and to +look upon hills as summits of danger. Of shinning, he knew but the name. +And that the very idea of climbing might be kept from his mind, all +climbing plants were rooted out from the grounds; not even a +morning-glory was allowed to run up a string! By these means the anxious +parents hoped to prevent what the Thulsk had foretold, from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> coming to +pass. “For,” said they, “if he never goes up, he can never fall down.” +But mark now how all these precautions were the very means of making the +prophecy prove true. For, had he only been taught to climb, and had been +accustomed to high places, that sad accident might not have taken place +and the blighted individual before you might now have been one of the +flowers of his country! [<i>Emotion.</i>] Pardon me, friends. Tears come +unbidden. [<i>Showman holds handkerchief to his eyes. Dwarf ditto, with +boots.</i>]</p> + +<p>Imagine now the dear child, grown a beautiful boy of five summers,—a +boy of beaming blue eyes, and a rosy cheek! of flaxen curls and a +graceful motion! The idol of his parents, the joy of his friends! Sweet +in disposition, of tender feelings, quick to learn, truthful, +affectionate, gentle in his manners, winning in his ways, no wonder that +he was so well beloved!</p> + +<p>It was only one short week before his sixth birthday, and his friends +were trembling with joy, that the fatal time had so nearly passed, when +the calamity which had so long hung over him like a cloud descended upon +him like a thunderbolt! In other words, he lacked but a week of six, and +all were rejoicing that the danger was nearly passed, when the event +happened.</p> + +<p>Hyladdu, being, like most boys, of a playful turn of mind, was sometimes +permitted to join in the games of other children, in front of his +father’s mansion, attended always by a faithful servant. On this +particular day they were amusing themselves by playing with some +silver-coated marbles, a box of which had been presented to Hyladdu by +his grandmother, who was one of the court ladies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>A very pretty group they were. The children of that country, like their +fathers, were dressed in long white robes, with bright sashes. On their +heads they wore caps of blue or scarlet, which turned up with points +before, behind, and at each side. On each point a little silver bell was +hung, that the servants might have less difficulty in following them +about. Their shoes were pointed at the toes.</p> + +<p>Among those silver marbles was an “alley” of great beauty, glistening +with rubies, and inlaid with pearl. This alley never was played for in +earnest. [<i>Here the dwarf beckons to the showman, and whispers in his +ear.</i>] He informs me that the laws forbade playing in earnest. I will +now finish as rapidly as possible.</p> + +<p>In the course of the game, this precious “alley” rolled a long distance, +until it came to a brick in the pavement, which was set slanting, or had +become so by a sinking of the ground underneath. This brick gave the +“alley” a turn sideways to the left, and it rolled at last through a +crack in the garden fence, and hid itself in the grass. The servant, in +great haste, darted through the gate in search of it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, slowly down the street, though at a distance, a Thulsk was +approaching. It was the same who had nearly six years before sat by +Hyladdu’s cradle. He walked silently on, his eyes cast down, his hands +clasped, holding between them the five-petalled flower. One of the boys, +perceiving him, made the sign of warning. Instantly they scattered, like +a flock of pigeons, leaving their little silver-belled caps on the +ground. Hyladdu, seeing the cellar open, would have hidden himself +there, but no space was left between the wine-butts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> A much larger boy +seized his hand and pulled him into a strange house, and then, in his +fright, dragged him through long passage-ways, and up seven flights of +stairs; for the Empskutians build their houses to an immense height. +Here they sat down to breathe awhile, and Hyladdu begged the boy to go +for the faithful servant, that he might lead him home.</p> + +<p>Now no sooner was the boy gone than Hyladdu began to look about him, and +presently he discovered a slender staircase going still higher. Having +climbed seven flights with help, he felt no fear in attempting the +eighth alone. This slender staircase conducted him to the roof of the +building. [<i>Emotion and handkerchief.</i>] Excuse my emotion. But when I +think what might have happened, if something else had not happened to +prevent, when I think that he might have fallen from that immense +height, to be dashed in pieces beneath, I—I—But I will let my story +take its course.</p> + +<p>And now let me tell you that the people of Empskutia were very fond of +the beautiful. The streets were adorned with ornamental trees, and over +the roofs of the houses were trained flowering vines, which ran to the +highest peak of cupola or chimney, and, blooming sweetly there, filled +the whole air with fragrance. It was the custom of the people to place +stout iron hooks along the eaves of their dwellings, from which were +suspended immense flower-pots of various beautiful designs. In these +pots the flowering vines took root and from thence not only climbed the +roof, but trailed gracefully down, thus giving the city a festive +appearance, like a never-ending gala-day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Hyladdu looked out from the top of that last eighth flight, the +long-smothered instinct of climbing burst out like a hidden fire. It +would not be restrained. Ah, now will be seen the folly of crushing that +instinct. Had he only have been accustomed to dizzy heights, made +familiar with danger, how different might have been his fate! +[<i>Emotion.</i>]</p> + +<p>The instinct of climbing, as I said, was now strong upon him! No sooner +did he perceive that there was still a height to gain than he resolved +to gain that height. Nothing less would satisfy him than sitting astride +the ridgepole, where a pair of bright-feathered birds had built their +nest, and were then feeding their young. He ventured out, made his way +cautiously up, holding on by the vines. Ah, could his parents have seen +him then!</p> + +<p>He arrived at the top, and there, seated on that lofty pinnacle, +surrounded by beautiful flowers, he gazed on the scene below, and +enjoyed a new happiness. For the first time in his life he looked down +from a height! for the first time in his life he gazed abroad over a +wide extended country!</p> + +<p>Such pleasure he had never known, and the faithful servant, anxiously +searching, might have found him there, still enjoying it, but for a +pretty little bluebird, that flew suddenly down and startled him, while +he was gazing at some object far away. This little bird came flying +through the air, and alighted for an instant on the child’s head, +thinking perhaps to make its nest in the soft curls, or it might have +thought his rosy lips were cherries. The suddenness with which it came +startled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> Hyladdu. He trembled, he lost his hold, slipped, then caught +by a vine, it gave way, he slipped again, but, having no skill in +climbing, slipped lower and lower, and would have fallen from the roof +and been dashed in pieces, but for that custom which was mentioned just +now, of suspending large flower-pots from the eaves. It happened that +his course lay directly towards one of these iron hooks. He dropped, +therefore, into the immense flower-pot beneath, where he lay as secure +as a babe in its cradle!</p> + +<p>From this frightful position he was at length rescued by one of the hook +and ladder company of that city, and placed in his mother’s arms. His +own arms were nearly paralyzed by his frantic efforts to cling to some +support, so that ever afterwards he could move them but very slightly, +as you perceive. [<i>Dwarf moves his arms slightly, by shaking his body.</i>] +And though the child’s life was spared, yet the terrible fright had the +effect of stopping his growth! Yes, my young friends, Hyladdu never grew +more, except in wisdom! The innocent cause of all this, the poor +sorrowing grandmother, died of remorse!</p> + +<p>And now my story becomes a more pleasing one to tell. Although the +child’s body remained dwarfed in size, yet his heart grew in goodness, +and his mind grew in knowledge, and he was beloved and respected by all. +Debarred earthly mountains, he mounted the heights of learning. The +climbing instinct, which his body could not satisfy, was developed in +his mind. He craved books, he craved whole libraries. Teacher after +teacher came, all exhausting upon him their treasures of knowledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +Music and drawing, studied scientifically, were his amusements. He +mastered astronomy, mineralogy, algebra, conchology, trigonometry, +physiology, engineering, metaphysics, technology, geology, phrenology, +also foreign languages unnumbered, with all the literature belonging to +each. [<i>Sensation in the audience.</i>] And when at last the storehouses of +wisdom seemed exhausted, a report reached him of a great country beyond +the seas, called the United States of America, in whose excellent +schools there remains something yet to learn! [<i>Applause from the +audience.</i>]</p> + +<p>He studied the written language of that country, read its history, and +resolved to seek its shores. For he longed to behold the land of the +Revolutionary War; to read the Declaration of Independence, and to stand +upon the grave of Old John Brown! [<i>Applause.</i>]</p> + +<p>He had heard of Bunker’s Hill. Travellers said that upon whomsoever +rested the shadow of its monument, that person possessed forever after +the unflinching bravery of those who bled and perished there! +[<i>Cheers.</i>] He had heard of Plymouth Rock [<i>Cheers</i>], and been told that +his foot once planted firmly upon it, he would feel springing up within +him all the heroism, the self-sacrifice, and the everlasting +perseverance of the glorious Pilgrim Fathers! [<i>Prolonged cheering.</i>]</p> + +<p>I have now, my young friends, told you, very briefly, the history of +this remarkable character. His age is thirty-four years. He is of a +cheerful disposition, having long ago resolved to look his misfortune +steadily in the face and make the best of it. In books, where are +treasures stored up by the scholars of all past time, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> finds a +never-ending pleasure. Though dwarfed in stature, he is resolved to make +a man of himself, and will fight it out on that line if it takes all +summer. For he early adopted for his motto, these beautiful lines of Dr. +Watts,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Were I so tall as to reach the pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or grasp the ocean in my span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be measured by my soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mind’s the standard of the man.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>[<i>Applause.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Curtain falls.</i>)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I once heard the above narrative repeated by Joe in a truly theatrical +manner. On the same occasion I also saw the picture of the “creature” to +which William Henry refers in his postscript to the Dwarf Letter.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob hailed me one day as I was coming from my office, and after +driving close to the curbstone, informed me that Cousin Joe and his +accordion had arrived, both in good health and spirits. Also, that +Billy’s school had met with a very sudden vacation, caused either by +flues, or furnaces, or both, having something the matter with them, and +the young rascal would be at home that evening, and I must come without +fail. “Of course you know,” said he, “’tis a pretty hard thing for Billy +having to give up his studies, so he’s coming home to his friends. +Nothing like being among friends when you’re in trouble?”</p> + +<p>Now this was by no means a remarkable event. Only a boy coming home for +a few days to see his folks. Still, an occasion which worked Grandmother +up to the pitch of putting on her best cap should not be passed over in +silence.</p> + +<p>I went out to the Farm that evening, and on arriving found Cousin Joe, +and the accordion, and Aunt Phebe’s family, with a few relatives whom I +had never met before, all assembled at Grandmother’s. They had made up a +fire in the “Franklin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> fireplace.” This “Franklin fireplace” was a sort +of iron framework, projecting from the chimney into the room. The top +was flat, with brass balls on the corners. It had iron sides, which +“flared out,” and a rounded iron hearth of its own, about an inch above +the brick hearth, and shining brass andirons.</p> + +<p>No one could wish for a brighter room, I thought, for there was the +light from the fire, the light from the “lights,” and the light from all +those smiling faces! An inviting supper-table was set out, covered +dishes were “keeping warm” on the hearth and “frame,” and everything was +ready and waiting for William Henry. Mr. Carver had gone to the station, +and they were expected back every moment.</p> + +<p>Georgiana was very busy over a skein of blue sewing-silk. She informed +me that that was the first whole skein of sewing-silk she ever had in +all her life, and that it came from a bundle of all colors, which Cousin +Joe gave to Hannah Jane. It brought trouble with it, as it is said all +earthly possessions do, and snarled at all her attempts to coax it on to +a spool. Tommy, sober as a judge, was holding it for her to wind. He sat +in a little chair, with his legs crossed. His mother said he was very +particular to cross his legs, so as to seem more like a man.</p> + +<p>Lucy Maria had just persuaded Grandmother to put on her best, double +stringed, white-ribboned cap, in honor of William Henry. It was the very +one he brought her so long ago, but was still as good as new, having +very seldom seen the light of day, or of evening, since it first came +home in the bandbox. She had also been coaxed into her second-best +dress, and then into the rocking-chair. Lucy Maria tied her cap under +the chin, with the narrow strings, and smoothed down the wide ones.</p> + +<p>“You have no idea, Grandmother,” said she. “You haven’t the faintest +idea how well you look!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>“’T is too dressy for me,” said Grandmother. “It don’t feel natural on +my head.”</p> + +<p>“Now I should think,” said Uncle Jacob, “that a cap would feel more +natural on anybody’s head than anywhere!”</p> + +<p>“It looks natural,” said Lucy Maria, “I’m sure it does. Looks as if it +grew there!”</p> + +<p>“And only think how ’t will please Billy!” said Aunt. Phebe.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p247.jpg" width="448" height="247" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The “<i>Map of the United States</i>” had been brought out of the front room, +and placed over the mantel-piece. And Lucy Maria, for fun, she said, and +to pay a delicate compliment to the artist, had fastened a few sprays of +upland cranberry around it. And, also, for fun, she pinned up near it a +little picture, which I had quite a laugh over, and which, she said, was +the renowned Megotharium, in the act of feeding drawn by the famous +artist, William Henry, assisted by his brother artist, Dorry. The +picture, she added, was not an <i>original</i>, but merely a copy done by a +female. A photograph of these two artists, sitting side by side, was +exhibited, underneath the picture.</p> + +<p>Cousin Joe said that <i>creature</i> beat all his going to sea. This young +tailor, by the way, must have made a jolly shipmate. He was full of his +jokes and his tricks. Tried to twirl Tommy round, by rubbing him between +his two hands,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> as one does a top, telling him that was the way the +Hottentots did to take the mischief out of boys!</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe said she thought if the Hottentots knew any way of taking the +mischief out of boys, and were out of work, they might find employment +in this country.</p> + +<p>Tommy begged to play “one tune,” and was allowed to. Cousin Joe declared +that “that accordion was played every wave of the way across the +Atlantic,” either by himself or by one of the sailors, and that +sometimes the mermaids sang to its music! Asked Tommy if he would like +to bear the tune the mermaids sang? Tommy said he should rather wait +till after supper. This was the way in which, company being present, the +young chap let it be known that he was hungry.</p> + +<p>Grandmother wondered, then, why they didn’t come, and went to look out +of the window, putting up both hands, to keep the light of the room from +her eyes; then opened the outside door, to listen for the whistle; then +went to look at the kitchen clock; then came back, saying it was a good +deal past the time, and what could be the matter?</p> + +<p>She little knew who was behind, following her on tiptoe into the room. +William Henry himself! He was creeping in at the sink room door, just as +she turned to come back from looking at the clock, and followed softly +behind. She didn’t notice how very smiling we all looked. Billy shook +his finger at us, to hush us.</p> + +<p>“I hope there hasn’t anything happened to the cars,” said she.</p> + +<p>“I hope so too!” shouted Billy. And, by a miraculous jump, he planted +himself, square foot, in front of his grandmother, who, of course, +walked straight into his arms!</p> + +<p>Then everybody shouted, and clapped, and shook hands, and kissed. The +cap got twisted about, and as if there were not confusion enough, Cousin +Joe began to caper about, and to play on his accordion tunes that were +never played before!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such a splendid fellow as Billy was! Such a hearty, laughing, breezy +fellow, with his thick head of hair, “not so red as it was,” and his +honest, good-natured face! I didn’t wonder they were all so glad to see +him.</p> + +<p>“Welcome home, shipmate!” shouted Cousin Joe. “Welcome home! How long’ll +you be in port?” And worked away at Billy’s hand as if he’d been pumping +out ship.</p> + +<p>“’Most a week,” said Billy. “Mind my forefinger.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t take long to stay at home a week,” said Cousin Joe, tossing up +his accordion.</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” said Uncle Jacob. “Come, let’s be doing something!”</p> + +<p>“That means, let’s be eating something,” said Aunt Phebe. “Come, girls, +put everything on the table! Billy, how tall and spruce you do look! +Poor Grandmother, she’s losing her little Billy!”</p> + +<p>“But what’s her loss is his gain!” said Uncle Jacob. “I speak to sit +next the frosted cake. Where’s Tommy?”</p> + +<p>Tommy came in, tugging Billy’s carpet-bag, which he found in the +kitchen, hoping, no doubt, there were goodies inside for him.</p> + +<p>We had a delightful “supper-time,” Grandmother, of course, piling +Billy’s plate with everything good.</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Mr. Carver, “that whatever boys eat at home grandmothers +expect will agree with them!”</p> + +<p>The happy “young rascal” meanwhile bore the separation from his studies +with amazing fortitude! Told no end of funny stories about the boys, and +about parties, and about the Two Betseys. And twice, during supper, he +exclaimed, “I do hope nothing has happened to those cars. They were such +good cars!”</p> + +<p>My visits to the farm were always delightful, but during that +supper-time, and during that evening, I grudged every moment as it flew +away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob was in high glee, and insisted on being taught “the graces,” +and on having his wife taught “the graces.” Then Lucy Maria “set her +foot down” that every one should stand in the row, and Billy should be +Mr. Tornero. And, being a girl of resolution, she coaxed every one into +line, except Grandmother, who said her rheumatism should do her some +service then, if never before.</p> + +<p>“The graces” were then taught, and learned, amid shouts of laughter, +Cousin Joe playing for us, and I’ll venture to say that had Mr. Tornero +been present, he would have been astonished at our steps, and also at +the music!</p> + +<p>Afterwards we had the dwarf shown off, Cousin Joe being the showman. He +declared after looking over the “Narrative,” that Empskutia was a place +well known to him, and that he had often sailed up the “river Phlezzra,” +to trade with the natives. Lucy Maria dressed him in a large-figured red +and green bedspread, pinned on to look like a loose robe, with flowing +sleeves, and girded about the waist with cords and tassels taken from +Aunt Phebe’s parlor curtains. He wore an immense lace collar, and a +turban made of a white muslin handkerchief (one that was Grandmother’s +mother’s) and besprinkled with artificial flowers. His face was tattooed +with a lead-pencil, and dark circles drawn around his eyes. He held in +his hand a slender rod, or wand.</p> + +<p>The dwarf was a young cousin of William Henry’s (not Tommy), and he did +his part well, whistling, bowing, dancing, sneezing, rising, sitting, +with a perfectly sober face.</p> + +<p>The showman then read the “Narrative,” adding thereto such ridiculous +incidents, and such comical remarks, that the audience were convulsed +with laughter, and the face of the dwarf twitched alarmingly. These +twitchings, he (the showman) said, were not unusual, and were the +effects of the sad occurrence then being narrated. The closing portions +of the story were declaimed in a powerful voice. He “acted out”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> the +“pole” and the “span,” and at the third line, “I must be measured by my +<i>soul</i>,” laid his hand upon his heart in the most impressive manner, and +remained in that position till the curtain fell.</p> + +<p>After this “John Brown” was sung, and William Henry was permitted to +roar out that “Glory Hallelujah” as loudly as he pleased.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The following letter must have been written some time after William +Henry met with the <i>affliction</i> which was so touchingly alluded to by +Uncle Jacob, as above related, and which that wretched youth felt could +only be endured in the bosom of his family! In the interval it appears +that he had been removed from the Crooked Pond School, and that Dorry +had left also, to finish preparing himself for college in some higher +seminary of learning.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry’s Letter after leaving School.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Dorry,</span>—</p> + +<p>I didn’t know I was going to come away from school so soon after you +did, but there was a new High School begun in our town about a mile and +a half off, and my father thought I could learn there, and learn to farm +it some too. But I don’t think much of farming it. Course ’t is fun to +see things grow, after you’ve planted the seeds, and then watched ’em +all the way up. My grandmother says my father likes his corn so well, +that he pities it in a dry time, and when a gale blows it down he pities +it as much as if he’d been blown down himself. Weeds are enough to make +a feller mad, coming up fast as you kill ’em and sucking all the +goodness out of the ground that don’t belong to them. Suppose they think +’t is as much theirs as anybody’s.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>I suppose you are studying away for college. I don’t know whether I wish +I could go or not. I guess my head wouldn’t hold all ’t would have to be +put into it before I went, and in all that four years too! Now I want to +know if a feller can remember all that? I mean remember the beginning +after all the other has been piled top of it? I don’t know what I shall +be yet. For there is something bad about everything, Grandmother says, +and I believe it. Now I don’t want to be a farmer, because ’t is hard +work and poor pay,—in these parts. I guess I should like to go to +Kansas. But there are the Indians after your scalp, and fever and ague, +and grasshoppers, and potato-bugs, and bean-bugs, and army-worms to eat +up everything, and droughts to dry up everything, and floods to wash it +away, and hurricanes to blow it down, and Uncle Jacob says if a man +comes through all these alive, with a few grains of corn, the man that +wants to buy ’em is a hundred miles off! But my father says, what is a +man good for that don’t dare to go to sail without ’t is on a mill-pond! +For smooth water can’t make a sailor. And if a man is scared of lions, +how will he get through the woods. So I don’t know yet what I shall be. +What should you, if you did n’ go to college? Go into a store? I tell +you, Dorry, that if I was a dry-goods clerk, fenced in behind a counter, +I do believe I should ache to jump over and <i>put</i> for somewhere and go +to doing something. But my father says you can’t always tell a man by +what his business is. For you’ve got to allow for head work. And because +he sells shoe-strings, ’t is no sign he hasn’t got anything in his head +but shoe-strings; and because a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> man drives nails, ’t is no sign he +hasn’t got anything but nails in his head. “Now suppose,” says he, “that +a man sells dry goods all day, can’t he have some thoughts stowed away +in his brains that he got out of books, or got up himself? And when he’s +walking along home and back, and evenings, can’t he out with ’em and be +thinking ’em over?” I s’pose ’t isn’t time for me to have thoughts yet, +s’pose they’ll be dropping along in a year or two, “or three at the +most,” as Lord Lovell said. One thing I mean to have, and that is a good +house with all the fixings, and money to spend, and money to give away +if I want to. So whatever I get started on, I mean to pitch in and shove +up my sleeves, and go at it. Father says I must be thinking the matter +over, and not make my mind up right off. They say going to sea is a +dog’s life. I should like to go long enough to see what Spain looks +like, and China, and other places. Maybe I shall learn a trade. Now, for +instance, a carpenter’s. That don’t seem much of a trade. Mostly +pounding. But they say if you keep on, and are smart at it, why, you get +to taking houses, and then you are not a carpenter any longer, but a +“builder,” and money comes in.</p> + +<p>I’m going to let her rest a spell. Though I’m so old I can’t help +looking ahead some sometimes, to see where I’m coming out.</p> + +<p>Didn’t you feel homesick any when you were coming away from school? I +did,—“quite some,” as W. B. used to say. I went round to all the +places, and paddled in the pond, and lay down on the grass to take one +more drink out of the brook, and climbed up in the Elm, and ran up and +down our stairs much as half a dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> times, without stopping, for I +thought I never should again.</p> + +<p>I whittled a great sliver off the base-ball field fence to fetch away; +didn’t we use to have good times there? Bubby Short gave me his +pocket-book, and I gave him mine. They had about equal, inside. I went +to bid Gapper good-by, day before I came off, and gave Rosy my little +penknife.</p> + +<p>Then I went to bid the two Betseys good-by, and they wiped their eyes, +and seemed about as if they’d been my grandmothers, and said I <i>must</i> +come to eat supper with them that afternoon. So I went. Me all alone! +Had a funny kind of a time. We sat at that round, three-legged stand, +and I’ll tell you what we had. Bannock and butter, sausages, flapjacks, +and scalloped cakes. All set on in saucers, for there wasn’t much room. +They had about supper enough for forty. For they said they knew their +appetites were nothing to judge a hungry boy by, and I must eat a good +deal and not go by them, and kept handing things to me, and every once +in a while they’d say, “Now don’t be scared of it, there’s more in the +buttery?” George! Dorry, I wish you could have seen that punkin-pie they +had! ’T was kept in a chair, a little ways off. I don’t see what ’t was +baked in. The Other Betsey said that was just such a kind of a pie as +her mother used to make. I out with my ruler, and asked if I might +measure it. ’T was about two feet across, and about four inches thick. +She said she thought ’t was a good time to make one, when they were +going to have company. When I took my piece I had to hold my plate in my +hand, for there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> wasn’t room on the stand. They wished you’d been there, +and so did I, and so would you, if you’d seen that pie. They didn’t take +down their best dishes, that we had that other time, but called me one +of the family and used the poor ones. I had to look out about lifting up +the spoon-holder, because the bottom had been off, once, and mind which +sugar-bowl handle I took hold of, for one side it was glued on. But +everything held. I can’t bear tea, but they said ’t was very warming and +resting, and I’d better. I guess they put in about six spoonfuls of +sugar! They wanted to know all about you, and said you were a smart +fellow.</p> + +<p>They wanted me to take some little thing out of the store, to remember +them by. So I looked and looked to find something that didn’t cost very +much, and at last I pitched upon a pocket-comb. The Other Betsey put on +her glasses and scratched a B. on it, and said it could stand for the +two of ’em. But I told her she better make two B.’s, for that would seem +more like the Two Betseys, and she did. Lame Betsey said one B. ought to +go lame, and the Other Betsey said she guessed they both would, for she +had poor eyesight, and her hand shook, and nothing but a darning-needle +to scratch with. If I do break the comb I shall keep the handle, for I +think the Two Betseys are tip-top. I wish they could come and see my +grandmother. Wouldn’t the three of ’em have a good time!</p> + +<p>Send a feller a letter once in a while, can’t ye? Say, now, you Dorry, +don’t get too knowing to write to a feller?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>At this point the correspondence properly closes. As a faithful editor, +I have endeavored to let it tell its own story, but must frankly +acknowledge that at times, the pleasant memories recalled by these +Letters have tempted me, too far, perhaps, beyond editorial bounds. This +fault I freely confess, hoping to be as freely forgiven. Were it known +how much I have left unsaid, while longing to say it, I should receive +not only forgiveness but praise.</p> + +<p>In closing, I cannot do better than to add to the collection an extract +from a letter written to Mr. Carver by the Principal of the Crooked Pond +School.</p> + +<p>It seems that William Henry’s new teacher proposed his taking up Latin, +and that Mr. Carver being somewhat undecided about the matter, wrote to +the Principal of the Crooked School, asking his opinion. The Principal’s +reply, in as far as it discusses the Latin question, would scarcely be +in order here. But the closing portion will, I know, be read with +pleasure by all who have taken an interest in William Henry. He speaks +of him thus:—</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>.... Allow me, sir, in concluding, to congratulate you on the many good +qualities of your son. He is one of the boys that I feel sure of. We +regret exceedingly his leaving us, and I assure you that he carries with +him the best wishes of all here,—teachers, pupils, and townspeople. I +shall watch his course with deep interest. A boy of his manly bearing, +kind disposition, and high moral principle will surely win his way to +all hearts, as he has done to ours.</p> + +<p>With regard to his studies, though not, perhaps, a remarkably brilliant +scholar, he has, on the whole, done well. For the first few months, it +is true, we rather despaired of awakening an interest. He was too fond +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> play, too unwilling to come under our pretty strict discipline. +Observing how heartily he entered into all games, and that he excelled +in them, it occurred to us, that if the same ambition and pluck shown on +the playground could be aroused in the schoolroom, our object would be +gained. This, by various means, we have tried to accomplish, and I am +happy to add, with good success. Your son, sir, is a boy to be proud of.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Very truly yours,<br /> +<br /> +—— ——<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>It so happened that I called at the Farm the very day on which this +reply was received, and just as Grandmother had finished reading it.</p> + +<p>As I entered the room she looked up, and without speaking handed me the +letter. Tears stood in her eyes, and I saw that something had touched +her deeply.</p> + +<p>“Any bad news?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” she answered, in a tremulous voice. “But to think of that +schoolmaster’s finding out what was in that child!”</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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William Henry Letters, by Abby Morton Diaz + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The William Henry Letters + + +Author: Abby Morton Diaz + + + +Release Date: November 15, 2010 [eBook #34335] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 34335-h.htm or 34335-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34335/34335-h/34335-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34335/34335-h.zip) + + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS. + +by + +MRS. A. M. DIAZ. + +With Illustrations. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston: +Fields, Osgood, & Co. +1870. + +Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1870, +by Fields, Osgood, & Co., +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + +University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., +Cambridge. + + + + +EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION. + + +MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS:-- + +Much to my surprise, I was asked one day if I would be willing to edit +the William Henry Letters for publication in a volume. + +At first it seemed impossible for me to do anything of the kind; "for," +said I, "how can any one edit who is not an editor? Besides, I am not +enough used to writing." It was then explained to me that my duties +would simply be to collect and arrange the Letters, and furnish any +little items concerning William Henry and his home which might interest +the reader. It was also hinted, in the mildest manner possible, that I +was not chosen for this office on account of my talents, or my learning, +or my skill in writing; but wholly because of my intimate acquaintance +with the two families at Summer Sweeting place,--for I have at times +lived close by them for weeks together, and have taken tea quite often +both at Grandmother's and at Aunt Phebe's. + + * * * * * + +After a brief consideration of the proposal, I agreed to undertake the +task; at the same time wishing a more experienced editor could have been +found. + +My acquaintance with the families commenced just about the time of +William Henry's going to school, and in rather a curious way. + +I was then (and am now) much interested in the Freedmen. While serving +in the Army of the Potomac, I had seen a good deal of them, and was +connected with a hospital in Washington at the time when they were +pouring into that city, hungry and sick, and half-naked. I belonged to +several Freedmen's Societies, and had just then pledged myself to beg a +barrelful of old clothing to send South. + +But this I found was, for an unmarried man, having few acquaintances in +the town, a very rash promise. I had no idea that one barrel could hold +so much. The pile of articles collected seemed to me immense. I wondered +what I should do with them all. But when packed away there was room left +for certainly a third as many more; and I had searched thoroughly the +few garrets in which right of search was allowed me. Even in those, I +could only glean after other barrel-fillers. A great many garrets +yielded up their treasures during the war; for "Old clo'! old clo'!" was +the cry then all over the North. + +Now, as I was sitting one afternoon by my barrel, wishing it were full, +it happened that I looked down into the street, and saw there my +_unknown friend_, waiting patiently in his empty cart. This _unknown +friend_ was a tall, high-shouldered man, who drove in, occasionally, +with vegetables. There were others who came in with vegetables also, and +oftener than he; but this one I had particularly noticed, partly because +of his bright, good-humored face, and partly because his horse had +always a flower, or a sprig of something green, stuck in the harness. + +At first I had only glanced at him now and then in the crowd. Then I +found myself watching for his blue cart, and next I began to wonder +where he came from, and what kind of people his folks were. He joked +with the grocery-men, threw apples at the little ragged street children, +and coaxed along his old horse in a sort of friendly way that was quite +amusing. And though I had never spoken a word to him, nor he to me, I +called him my unknown friend, for a sight of him always did me good. + +It was a bony old gray horse that he drove, with a long neck poking way +ahead; and the man was a farmer-like man, and wore farmer-like clothes; +but he had a pleasant, twinkling eye, and the horse, as I said before, +was seldom without a flower or bit of green stuck behind his ear or +somewhere else about the harness. + +And often, when the town was hot and dusty, and business people were +mean, I would say to myself, as my friend drove past on his way home, +How I should like to ride out with him, no matter where, if 't is only +where they have flowers and green things growing in the garden! + +On this particular afternoon, as I have said, I observed my friend +sitting quietly in his cart, "bound out," as the fishermen say,--sitting +becalmed, waiting for something ahead to get started. + +It happened that I was just then feeling very sensibly the heat and +confinement of the town, and was more than usually weary of business +ways and business people; actually pining for the balmy air of pine +woods and the breath of flowery fields. And perhaps, thought I, my +friend may live among warm-hearted country folk, who will be delighted +to give to my poor contrabands, and whose garrets no barrelman has yet +explored! + +So, giving a second look, and seeing that he still sat there, patiently +awaiting his turn, I ran down, without stopping to think more about it, +and asked if I might ride out with him. + +"O yes. Jump in! jump in!" said he, in the pleasantest manner possible; +then he offered me his cushion, and began to double up an empty bag for +himself. + +"No, no. Give me the bag," said I; and folding it, I laid it on the +board, just to take off the edge of the jolting a little. And my seat +seemed a charming one, after having been perched up on an office-stool +so long. + +That cushion of his took my eye at once. It looked as if it came out of +a rocking-chair. The covering was of black cloth, worked in a very +old-fashioned way, with pinks and tulips. The colors were faded, but it +had a homespun, comfortable, countrified look; in fact, the first glance +at that queer old cushion assured me that I was going to exactly the +right place. + +Presently we got started, and certainly I never had a better ride, nor +one with a pleasanter companion. He asked me all sorts of funny +questions about electricity, and oxygen, and flying-machines, and the +telegraph, and the moon and stars. + +"Now you are a learned man, I suppose," said he; "and I want you to tell +me how that golden-rod gets its yellow out of black ground." I said I +was not a learned man at all, and I didn't believe learned men +themselves could tell how it got its yellow, and the asters their +purple, and the succory its blue, and the everlasting its white, all out +of the same black ground. He said he was pretty sure his wife couldn't +boil up a kettleful and color either of those colors from them. + +So we went talking on. He asked me where I'd been stopping, and what I +did for a living. And I told him what I did for a living, and all about +soldier life, and the contrabands, and about my barrel. Our road led +through woods part of the way, and I drew in long breaths of woody air. +He told me a funny woodchuck story, and had a good deal to say about +wood-lots,--how some rich men formerly owned great tracts, but becoming +poor were forced to sell; and how, when pines were cut off, oaks grew up +in their place. And among other things he told me that a hardhack would +turn into a huckleberry-bush. I said that seemed like a miracle. He was +going on to tell me about one that he had watched, but just then we +turned into a pleasant, shady lane. + +We hadn't gone far down this shady lane before we heard a loud screaming +behind us, and looking round saw a small boy caught fast in the bushes +by the skirt of his frock. + +"Do you see that little boy?" I asked. + +"O yes, I see him," he said, laughing. "Hullo, Tommy! what you staying +there for?" + +The boy kept on crying. + +"What you waiting for?" he called out again, just as if he couldn't see +that the bushes would not let the child stir. + +We found out afterwards that little Tommy had hid there to jump out and +scare his father, but got caught by the briers. I went to untangle +him,--his clothes had several rents,--and was going to put him in the +cart; but he would get in "his own self," he said. Then he stopped +crying, and wanted to drive. His father said, "No, not till we get +through the bars." + +Then Tommy began again. And at last he said, half crying and half +talking, "When I'm--the--father, and you 'm--the--ittle Tommy--you +can't--drive--my--horse!" + +His father laughed and said: "Well, when I'm the little Tommy, I'll +brush the snarls off my face--so, and throw them under the wheels--so, +and let 'em get run over!" + +This made Tommy laugh, and very soon after we came to the bars. + +I looked ahead and saw a neat white house, not very large, with green +blinds and a piazza, where flowering plants were climbing. There was a +garden on one side and an orchard on the other. Just across the garden +stood an old, brown, unpainted house. There were tall apple-trees +growing near it, that looked about a hundred years old. My friend, Uncle +Jacob,--I've heard him called Uncle Jacob so much since that I really +don't know how to put a Mister to his name,--said those were Summer +Sweeting trees, that had pretty nigh done bearing. He said there used to +be Summer Sweeting trees growing all about there; and that when he took +part of the place, and built him a house, he cut down the ones on his +land, and set out Baldwins and Tallmans and Porters; but his mother +kept her's for the good they had done, and for the sake of what few +apples they did bear, to give away to the children. + +The houses had their backs towards me, and I was glad of that, for I +always like back doors better than front ones. + +Uncle Jacob whistled, and I saw a blind fly open, and a handkerchief +wave from an upper window, where two girls were sitting. Uncle Jacob's +wife stepped to the door and waved a sunbonnet, and then stepped back +again. + +"Here, Tommy," said Uncle Jacob, "you carry in the magazine to Lucy +Maria, and here's Matilda's gum-arabic. I don't see where Towser is." + +I jumped out, and said I guessed I would keep on; for I began to feel +bashful about seeing so many women-folks. + +"Where you going to keep on to?" Uncle Jacob asked. "This road don't go +any farther." + +I said I would walk across the fields to the next village and find a +hotel. + +"O no," said he, "stay here. Grandmother'll be glad enough to hear about +the contrabands. She'll knit stockings, and pick up a good deal about +the house to send off. And I want to ask much as five hundred questions +more about matters and things myself. Come, stay. Yes, we'll give you a +good supper, a first-rate supper. Don't be afraid. My wife'll--There! I +forgot her errand, now! But if you--Whoa! whoa! Georgiana, take this +pattern in to your Aunt Phebe, and tell her I forgot to see if I could +match it; but I don't believe the man had any like it." + +Georgiana was a nice little girl that just then came running across the +garden,--William Henry's sister, as I learned afterwards. + +Just then Aunt Phebe stepped to the door again. + +"Here are two hungry travellers," said Uncle Jacob, "and one of us is +bashful." + +"Well," said Aunt Phebe, very cheerily, "if anybody is hungry, this is +just the right place. How do you do, sir? Come right in. We live so out +of the way we 're always glad of company. Father, can't you introduce +your friend?" + +"Well--no--I can't," said he. "But I guess he's brother to the +President!" + +I said my name was Fry. + +Aunt Phebe said her father had a cousin that married a _Fry_, and asked +what my mother's maiden name was. I told her my mother was a _Young_, +and that I was named for my father and mother both,--_Silas Young Fry_. + +I heard a tittering overhead, behind a pair of blinds, where I guessed +some girls were peeping through. And afterwards, when I was sitting on +the piazza, I heard one tell another, not thinking I was within hearing, +that a young fry had come to supper. + +When we all sat round the table the girls seemed full of tickle, which +they tried to hide,--and one of them asked me,--I think it was Hannah +Jane,--with a very sober face,-- + +"Mr. Fry, will you take some fried fish?" + +I laughed and said, "No, I never take anything _fried_." + +Then we all laughed together, and so got acquainted very pleasantly; +for I have observed that a little ripple of fun sets people nearer +together than a whole ocean of calm conversation. + +After supper Uncle Jacob read the paper aloud, while the girls washed up +the dishes. All were eager to hear; and I found they kept the run of +affairs quite as well as townspeople. When there was too much rattling +of dishes for Uncle Jacob to be heard, and the girls lost some important +item, he was always willing to read it over. Little Tommy was rolled up +in a shawl and set down in the rocking-chair (that cushion did come out +of it) while his mother mended his clothes. This was the way he usually +got punished for tearing them. He was done up in a shawl, arms and all, +and kept in the rocking-chair while the clothes were being mended, and +he was obliged to remain pretty quiet, or the chair would tip. Aunt +Phebe said Tommy was so careless, something must be done, and keeping +him still was the worst punishment he could have. + +When the girls finished their dishes and took out their sewing, and were +going to light the large lamp, their mother said that we mustn't think +of settling ourselves for the evening. She said we must all go in to +grandmother's, for she'd be dreadful lonely, missing Billy so. + +Then Aunt Phebe told me how her nephew, Billy, a ten-year old boy, had +gone away to school only the day before, and how they all missed him. + +"Isn't he pretty young to go away to school?" I asked. + +"That's what I told his father," said she. + +"His father sent him away to keep him," said Uncle Jacob. "Grandmother +was spoiling him." + +"Ruining the boy with kindness?" said Lucy Maria. + +"Well," said Aunt Phebe, "I suppose 't was so. I know 't was so. But we +did hate to have Billy go!" + +Uncle Jacob then took me across the garden, and introduced me to Mr. +Carver, the father of William Henry, and to Grandmother,--old Mrs. +Carver, as the neighbors called her. + +She was a smiling, blue-eyed old lady, though with a little bit of an +anxious look just between the eyes. I thought there was no doubt about +her being a grandmother that would spoil boys. + +"Why, there's Towser, now?" said Uncle Jacob. "He didn't come to meet me +to-night." + +"He's been there, off and on, pretty much all day," said grandmother. +"You see what he's got his head on don't you?" + +"Billy's old boots!" said Uncle Jacob. + +"Yes. He set a good deal by Billy. I haven't put the boots away yet," +she said, with a sigh. + +"Here, Towser! come here, sir!" cried Uncle Jacob. + +Towser was a big, shaggy, clever-looking dog. He got up slowly, sniffed +at my trousers, then walked to Uncle Jacob, then round the room, then to +the door, then up stairs and down again, and then back he went and lay +down by the boots. + +"He misses my grandson," said grandmother to me, trying to smile about +it. + +The little girl, Georgiana, sat on a cricket, holding a kitten, tying +and untying its ribbon. A square of patchwork had fallen on the floor. +She stooped to pick it up and dropped her spool. That rolled away +towards the door, and kitty jumped for it and soon got the thread in a +tangle. The door opened so suddenly that she hopped up about two feet +into the air and tumbled head over heels. + +It was Lucy Maria who opened the door. The other girls came soon after; +and when Tommy was asleep Aunt Phebe came too. We had a very sociable +time. I don't call myself a talker, but I didn't mind talking there, +they seemed so easy, just like one's own folks. I told grandmother many +things about the contrabands, and about Southern life, and Southern +people, and about soldier life and battles and rations and making raids, +and the Washington hospitals, and how needy the contrabands were, and +about my barrel. "Poor creatures!" said she. "I must look up some things +for them to-morrow." Aunt Phebe thought there might be a good many +things lying about that would be of use to folks who hadn't anything. + +"Billy's boots!" cried Hannah Jane. + +"Why, yes," said her mother, "no use keeping boots for a growing boy." + +This and other remarks brought us back to William Henry again, and +grandmother seemed glad of it. She liked to keep talking about her boy. + +"I shall feel very anxious," she said. "I hope he will write soon as he +gets there. I told him he'd better write every day, so I could be sure +just how he was. For if well one day, he mightn't be the next." + +"O grandmother, that's too bad!" said Lucy Maria. "'T is cruel to ask a +boy to write every day!" + +"I wouldn't worry, mother," said Aunt Phebe. "Billy's always been a well +child." + +"These strong constitutions," said grandmother, "when they do take +anything, 't is apt to go hard with 'em." + +"He's taken pretty much everything that can be given to him already," +said Aunt Phebe. + +"I suppose they'll put clothes enough on his bed," said grandmother. "I +can't bear to think of his sleeping cold nights." + +"Perhaps they have blankets in that part of the country," said Uncle +Jacob. + +"But people are not always thoughtful about it," said grandmother. "I +really hope he'll take care of himself, and not be climbing up +everywhere. Houses and trees were bad enough; but now they have +gymnastic poles and everything else, to tempt boys off the ground. O +dear! when we think of everything that might happen to boys, 't is a +wonder one of them ever lives to grow up. Isn't there a pond near by?" + +"O yes," said Lucy Maria, "Crooked Pond. That's what gives the name to +the school,--Crooked Pond School." + +"I hope he won't be whipped," said his little sister. + +"Whipped!" cried Aunt Phebe, "I should like to see anybody whipping our +Billy!" + +"O mother, I shouldn't," said Matilda. + +"'T isn't an impossible thing," said grandmother. "He's quick. Billy's +good-hearted, but he's quick. He might speak up. I gave him a charge how +to behave. But then, what's a boy's memory? I don't suppose he'll +remember one half the things I told him. I meant to have charged him +over again, the last thing, not to stay out in the rain and get wet, +where there's nobody to see to his clothes being dried." + +"Well," said Uncle Jacob, "if a boy doesn't know enough to go into the +house when it rains, he better come home?" + +"What I hope is," said Aunt Phebe, "that he'll keep himself looking +decent." + +"If he does," said Lucy Maria, "then 'twill be the first time. The poor +child never seemed to have much luck about keeping spruced up. If +anybody here ever saw William Henry with no buttons off and both shoes +tied, and no rip anywhere, let 'em raise their hands!" + +Everybody laughed. I thought grandmother's eye wandered round the +circle, as if half taking it all in earnest, and half hoping some hand +would go up. But no hand went up. + +"Billy always was hard on his clothes," she said, with a sigh. "If he +only keeps well I won't say a word; but there's always danger of boys +eating unwholesome things, where there's nobody to deny them." + +"Billy's stomach's his own, and he must learn to have the care of it," +said Mr. Carver. + +Mr. Carver seemed a very quiet, thoughtful man, and of quite a different +turn from his brother. + +I suggested that boarding-house diet was apt to be plain; and then told +grandmother about a nephew of mine, a nice boy, who was rather older +than her grandson, who was named after me, and of whom I thought +everything. I told her he had been away at school a year, and that he +enjoyed himself, and went ahead in his studies, and never had a sick +day, and came home with better manners than he had when he went away. As +this pleased her, I said everything I could think of about my nephew, +including some anecdotes of little Silas, when he was quite small; and +she told a few about William Henry, the others helping her out, now and +then, with some missing items. + +Uncle Jacob said he shouldn't dare to say how many times she'd been +frightened almost to death about Billy. Many and many a time she was +sure he was lost, or drowned, or run over, or carried off, and would +never come back alive; but he always managed to come out straight at +last. Uncle Jacob said that if all the worry that was worried in this +world were piled up together, 't would make a mountain; but if all of it +that needn't be worried were knocked off, what was left wouldn't be +bigger than a huckleberry hill. + +Mr. Carver said there was one thing which made him entirely willing to +trust William Henry away, and that was, he had always been a boy of +principle. "I have watched him pretty closely," said Mr. Carver, "and +have noticed that he has a kind of pride about him that will not permit +him to lie, or equivocate in any way. + +"That's true!" cried Aunt Phebe. "True enough! Billy don't always look +fit to be seen, but he isn't deceitful. I'll say that for him!" + +"When he went to our school," said Matilda, "and was in the class below +me, and there was a fuss among the boys, and all of 'em told it a +different way, the teacher used to say she would ask William Henry, and +then she could tell just how it happened." + +"He couldn't have a better name than that," said Mr. Carver. + +Grandmother wiped her eyes, she seemed so gratified that her boy's good +qualities were remembered at last. + +I am almost certain that an editor should not be so long in telling his +story. But I should like to say a little more about that first +night,--just a very little more. + + * * * * * + +Grandmother wouldn't hear of my going to a hotel. Anybody that had been +a soldier, and was doing good, should never go from her house to find a +night's lodging. And she might as well have said, particularly anybody +that had a little Silas away at school, for I saw she felt it. + +It required very little urging to make me stay; for in all my travels I +had never met with a pleasanter set of people. My choice was offered me, +whether to lodge in the front chamber, or in the little back chamber +where Billy slept. Of course I chose the last; for people's best, front, +spare chambers never suit me very well. + +[Illustration] + +Billy's room was a snug little room, low in the walls, and papered with +flowery paper. There were two windows, the curtains to which were made +of paper like that on the walls. You had to roll them up with your +hands, and tie them with a string that went over the top. The room was +over the sink-room, and in going into it we stepped one step down. There +was no carpet on the floor, excepting a strip by the bedside and a mat +before the table. Grandmother said the table Billy and she made +together, so the legs didn't stand quite true. It was covered with +calico, and more calico was puckered on round the edge and came down to +the floor. That was done, she said, to make a place for his boots and +shoes. She thought 't was well for a boy to have a place for his things, +even if he did always leave them somewhere else. There was nothing +under the table but one rubber boot, with the rubber mostly cut off, and +some pieces of new pine, easy to whittle, that Billy had picked up and +stowed away there. A narrow looking-glass hung over the table. It had a +queer picture at the top, of two Japanese figures. The glass had a +little crack in one corner,--cracked by his ball bouncing up when he was +trying it. Some green tissue-paper hung around this fracture with a very +innocent, ornamental air. Not far from the glass I observed a rusty +jack-knife stuck in the wall, close to the window-frame; and on its +handle was hanging a string of birds'-eggs. In stepping up to examine +these I stumbled against an old hair-covered trunk, quite a large one. +The cover seemed a little askew, and not inclined to shut. This trunk +was the color of a red cow, and for aught I know was covered with the +skin of a red cow. In the middle of the cover the letters W. C. were +printed in brass nails, which led me to guess that the trunk had +belonged to William Henry's father. Grandmother raised the cover, to see +what kept it from shutting, and found 't was a great scraggly piece of +sassafras (saxifax) root, which lay on top. + +There was everything in that trunk,--everything. Of course I don't mean +meeting-houses, or steamboats, or anacondas; but everything a boy would +be likely to have. I saw picture papers, leather straps, old +pocket-books, a pair of dividers, the hull of a boat, a pair of +boot-pullers, a chrysalis, several penholders, a large clam-shell, a few +pocket combs,--comb parts gone,--fishing-lines, reels, bobs, sinkers, a +bullet-mould, arrows, a bag of marbles, a china egg, a rule, hammers, a +red comforter, two odd mittens, "that had lost the mates of 'em," a +bird-call, a mask, an empty cologne-bottle, a dime novel, odd +cards,--all these, and more, were visible by merely stirring the top +layer a little. Also several tangles of twine, twining and intertwining +among the mass. Grandmother shook up the things some,--by means of a +handle which probably belonged to a hatchet, but the hatchet part was +buried,--and I saw that the bottom was covered with marbles, dominos, +nails, bottles, slate-pencils, bits of brass clock machinery, and all +the innumerable nameless, shapeless things which would be likely to +settle down to the bottom of a boy's trunk. Grandmother said she should +set it to rights if it weren't for fish-hooks; but anybody's hands going +in there would be likely to get fish-hooks stuck into them. + +In one end of the trunk was quite a fanciful box. It was nothing but a +common pine box, painted black, with "cut out" pictures pasted on it. +There were ladies' faces, generals' heads, bugs, horses, butterflies, +chairs, ships, birds, and in the centre of the cover, outside, there was +a large red rose on its stalk. At the centre, inside, was a laughing, or +rather a grinning face, cut from some comic magazine. In this box was +kept some of his more precious treasures,--a little brass anchor, a +silver pencil-case, a whole set of dominos, and a ball, very prettily +worked, orange-peel pattern, in many colors. This was a present from his +teacher. There was also a curious pearl-handled knife, with the blades +broken short off. She said he never felt so badly about breaking any +knife as when that got broken, for it was one his cousin brought him +home from sea. He was keeping it to have new blades put in. + +"How much this trunk reminds me of little Silas's bureau-drawer!" I +said, taking up an old writing-book. As I spoke several bits of paper +fell out and among them were some very funny pictures, done with a +lead-pencil and then inked over. + +"What are these?" I asked. "Does he draw?" + +"Well--not exactly," she answered,--"nothing that can be called drawing. +He tries sometimes to copy what he sees." + +"I suppose I may look at them," I said, picking up one of the bits of +paper. "Pray what is this?" + +Grandmother put on her spectacles, and turned the paper round, as if +trying to find the up and down of it. + +[Illustration] + +"O, this is Uncle Jacob chasing the calf," said she; "those things that +look like elbows are meant for his legs kicking up. And on this piece +he's tried to make the old gobbler flying at Georgiana. You see the +turkey is as big as she is. But maybe you don't know which the turkey +is! That one is the fat man, and that one is the cat and kittens. And +that one is a dandy, making a bow. He saw one over at the hotel that he +took it from." + +She was sitting by the bed, and as she named them, spread them out upon +it, one by one, along with some others I have not mentioned, all very +comical. When I had finished laughing over them I said,-- + +"I should like to send these pictures in my barrel. 'T would give the +little sick contrabands something to laugh at." + +"Well, I'll tell Billy when he comes," she answered, then gathered them +up and smoothed the quilt again. + +The bedstead was a low one, without any posts, except that each leg +ended at the top with a little round, flat head or knob. The quilt was +made of light and dark patchwork. Grandmother told me, lowering her +voice, that Billy's mother made that patchwork when she was a little +girl just learning to sew; but 't was kept laid away, and about the last +work she ever did was to set it together. And 't was her request that +Billy should have it on his bed. She said Billy was a very _feeling_ +boy, though he didn't say much. One time, a couple years ago, she hung +that quilt out to blow, and forgot to take it in till after the dew +began to fall, so, being a little damp, she put on another one. But next +morning she looked in, and there 't was, over him, spread on all skewy! + +"Sometimes I think," she added, "that boys have more feeling than we +think for!" + +"I know they have!" I answered. + +A picture of William Henry's mother hung opposite the bed. It was not a +very handsome face, nor a pretty face. But it had such an earnest, +loving, wistful expression, that I could not help exclaiming, +"Beautiful!" + +"Yes, she was a beautiful woman. We all loved her. She was just like a +daughter to me. Billy doesn't know what he's lost, and 't is well he +don't. I try to be a mother to him; but they say," said the +tender-hearted old lady,--"they say a grandmother isn't fit to have the +bringing up of a child! Billy has his faults." + +"Now if I were a child," I exclaimed, "I should rather you would have +the bringing up of me than anybody I know of! And 't is my opinion, from +what I hear, that you've done well by Billy. Of course boys are boys, +and don't always do us they ought to. Now there's little Silas. He's +been a world of trouble first and last. But then boys soon get big +enough to be ashamed of all their little bad ways. The biggest part of +'em like good men best, and mean to be good men. And I think Billy's +going to grow up a capital fellow! A capital fellow! If a boy's +true-hearted he'll come out all right. And your boy is, isn't he?" + +"O very!" she said. "Very!" + +I was so glad to think, after the old lady had gone down, that I'd said +something which, if she kept awake, thinking about the boy, would be a +comfort to her. + + * * * * * + +Next morning grandmother brought out quite an armful of old clothes. A +poor old couple, living near, she said, took most of hers and Mr. +Carver's; but what few there were of Billy's that were decent to send I +might have. A couple of linen jackets, a Scotch cap, two pairs of thin +trousers, not much worn, but outgrown, a small overcoat, several pairs +of stockings, and some shoes. And the boots also, and some +underclothing, that William Henry might have worn longer, she said, if +he were only living at home, where she could put a stitch in 'em now and +then. + +Grandmother sighed as she emptied the pockets of crumbles, green apples, +reins, bullets, and knotted, gray, balled-up pocket-handkerchiefs. Among +the clothes she brought out a funny little uniform, which I had seen +hanging up in his room,--one that he had when a soldier, or trainer, as +she called it, in a military company, formed near the beginning of the +war. It consisted of a blue flannel sack, edged with red braid, red +flannel Zouave trousers, and a blue flannel cap, bound with red, and +having a square visor. That uniform would fit some little contraband, +she said. + +"Hadn't you better keep those?" I asked. "Won't he want them?" + +"O no," she said. "He's outgrown them. And 't is no use keeping them for +moths to get into." + +She gave me some picture-books, and two primers, a roll of linen, and +quite a good blanket, all of which I received thankfully. + +In rolling up the different articles, I saw her eye resting so lovingly +on the little uniform, that I said, "Here, grandmother, hadn't you +better take back these?" + +"O, I guess not," she answered. "I guess you better send them. But," she +added a moment after, "perhaps they might as well stay till you send +another barrel." + +"Just exactly as well," I said. And the old lady seemed as if she had +recovered a lost treasure. + +Aunt Phebe added a good many valuable articles, so that by the time +Uncle Jacob was ready to start I had collected two immense bundles, and +felt almost brave enough to face another barrel. For they all said they +would beg from their friends, and save things, and that I must certainly +come again. + +"For you know," said Aunt Phebe, "'t is a great deal better to hear you +tell things than to read about them in the newspapers." + +They stood about the door to see us off, and Matilda stroked the old +horse, and talked to him as if he understood. She broke off two heads +of phlox, red and white, and fastened them in behind his ear. Uncle +Jacob told me, as we rode along, that the old horse really expected to +be patted and talked to before starting. And indeed I noticed myself +that after being dressed up he stepped off with an exceedingly satisfied +air, just as I have seen some little girls,--and boys too, for that +matter, and occasionally grown people. + + * * * * * + +But it is quite time to give you the Letters. There should be more of +them, for the correspondence covers a period of about two years. 'T is +true that, after the first, William Henry did not write nearly as often. +But still there are many missing. Little Tommy cut up some into strings +of boys and girls, and at one time when grandmother wasn't very well, +and had to hire help, the girl look some to kindle fire with. The old +lady said she was sitting up in her arm-chair, by the fireplace one day, +when she saw, in the corner, a piece of paper with writing on it, half +burnt up. She poked it out with a yardstick, and 't was one of Billy's +letters! Quite a number which were perfect have been omitted. This is +because that some coming between were missing; and so, as the children +say, there wouldn't be any sense to them. Others contained mostly +private matters. Very few were dated. This is, however, of small +importance, as the Letters probably will never be brought forward to +decide a law case. + + + + +THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS. + + + +The first letter from William Henry which has been preserved seems to +have been written a few weeks after entering his school, and when he had +begun to get acquainted with the boys. Could the letter itself be made +to appear here, with its _very_ peculiar handwriting, and with all the +other distinctive marks of a boy's first exploit on paper, it would be +found even more entertaining than when given in the printed form. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I think the school that I have come to is a very good school. We have +dumplings. I've tied up the pills that you gave me in case of feeling +bad, in the toe of my cotton stocking that's lost the mate of it. The +mince pies they have here are baked without any plums being put into +them. So, please, need I say, No, I thank you, ma'am, to 'em when they +come round? If they don't agree, shall I take the pills or the drops? Or +was it the hot flannels,--and how many? + +I've forgot about being shivery. Was it to eat roast onions? No, I guess +not. I guess it was a wet band tied round my head. Please write it down, +because you told me so many things I can't remember. How can anybody +tell when anybody is sick enough to take things? You can't think what a +great, tall man the schoolmaster is. He has got something very long to +flog us with, that bends easy, and hurts,--Q. S. So Dorry says. Q. S. is +in the abbreviations, and stands for a sufficient quantity. Dorry says +the master keeps a paint-pot in his room, and has his whiskers painted +black every morning, and his hair too, to make himself look scareful. +Dorry is one of the great boys. But Tom Cush is bigger. I don't like Tom +Cush. + +I have a good many to play with; but I miss you and Towser and all of +them very much. How does my sister do? Don't let the cow eat my +peach-tree. Dorry Baker he says that peaches don't grow here; but he +says the cherries have peach-stones in them. In a month my birthday will +be here. How funny 't will seem to be eleven, when I've been ten so +long! I don't skip over any button-holes in the morning now; so my +jacket comes out even. + +Why didn't you tell me I had a red head? But I can run faster than any +of them that are no bigger than I am, and some that are. One of the +spokes of my umbrella broke itself in two yesterday, because the wind +blew so when it rained. + +We learn to sing. He says I've a good deal of voice; but I've forgot +what the matter is with it. We go up and down the scale, and beat time. +The last is the best fun. The other is hard to do. But if I could only +get up, I guess 't would be easy to come down. He thinks something ails +my ear. I thought he said I hadn't got any at all. What have a feller's +ears to do with singing, or with scaling up and down? + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. Here's a conundrum Dorry Baker made: In a race, why would the +singing-master win? Because "Time flies," and he _beats time_. + +I want to see Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, dreadfully. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +This second letter must have been pleasing to Aunt Phebe, as it shows +that William Henry was beginning to have some faint regard for his +personal appearance. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I've got thirty-two cents left of my spending-money. When shall I begin +to wear my new shoes every day? The soap they have here is pink. Has +father sold the bossy calf yet? There's a boy here they call Bossy Calf, +because he cried for his mother. He has been here three days. He sleeps +with me. And every night, after he has laid his head down on the pillow, +and the lights are blown out, I begin to sing, and to scale up and down, +so the boys can't hear him cry. Dorry Baker and three more boys sleep in +the same room that we two sleep in. When they begin to throw bootjacks +at me, to make me stop my noise, it scares him, and he leaves off +crying. I want a pair of new boots dreadfully, with red on the tops of +them, that I can tuck my trousers into and keep the mud off. + +One thing more the boys plague me for besides my head. Freckles. Dorry +held up an orange yesterday. "Can you see it?" says he. "To be sure," +says I. "Didn't know as you could see through 'em," says he, meaning +freckles. Dear grandmother, I have cried once, but not in bed. For fear +of their laughing, and of the bootjacks. But away in a good place under +the trees. A shaggy dog came along and licked my face. But oh! he did +make me remember Towser, and cry all over again. But don't tell, for I +should be ashamed. I wish the boys would like me. Freckles come thicker +in summer than they do in winter. + +[Illustration] + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +If William Henry's recipe for the prevention of spunkiness were +generally adopted, I fancy that many a boy would be seen practising the +circus performance here mentioned. It must have been "sure cure!" I well +remember the "plaguing" of my school days, and know from experience how +hard it is for a boy (or a man) always to keep his temper. The fellows +used to make fun of my name. In our quarrels, when there was nothing +else left to say, they would call out,--leaving off the Silas,--"Y Fry? +why not bake?" or "boil," or "stew." Of course to such remarks there was +no answer. + +It is to be regretted that so few of Grandmother's letters were +preserved. As Billy here makes known the state of his pocket-book, we +may infer that she had been inquiring into his accounts, and perhaps +cautioning him against spending too freely. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I do what you told me. You told me to bite my lips and count ten, before +I spoke, when the boys plague me, because I'm a spunky boy. But doing it +so much makes my lips sore. So now I go head over heels sometimes, till +I'm out of breath. Then I can't say anything. + +This is the account you asked me for, of all I've bought this week:-- + + Slippery elm 1 cent. + Corn-ball 1 cent. + Gum 1 cent. + +[Illustration] + +And I swapped a whip-lash that I found for an orange that only had one +suck sucked out of it. The "Two Betseys," they keep very good things to +sell. They are two old women that live in a little hut with two rooms to +it, and a ladder to go up stairs by, through a hole in the wall. One +Betsey, she is lame and keeps still, and sells the things to us sitting +down. The other Betsey, she can run, and keeps a yardstick to drive away +boys with. For they have apple-trees in their garden. But she never +touches a boy, if she does catch him. They have hens and sell eggs. + +[Illustration] + +The boys that sleep in the same room that we do wanted Benjie and me to +join together with them to buy a great confectioner's frosted cake, and +other things. And when the lamps had been blown out, to keep awake and +light them up again, and so have a supper late at night, with the +curtains all down and the blinds shut up, when people were in bed, and +not let anybody know. + +But Benjie hadn't any money. Because his father works hard for his +living,--but his uncle pays for his schooling,--and he wouldn't if he +had. And I said I wouldn't do anything so deceitful. And the more they +said you must and you shall, the more I said I wouldn't and I shouldn't, +and the money should blow up first. + +So they called me "Old Stingy" and "Pepper-corn" and "Speckled +Potatoes." Said they'd pull my hair if 't weren't for burning their +fingers. Dorry was the maddest one. Said he guessed my hair was tired of +standing up, and wanted to lie down to rest. + +I wish you would please send me a new comb, for the large end of mine +has got all but five of the teeth broken out, and the small end can't +get through. I can't get it cut because the barber has raised his price. +Send quite a stout one. + +I have lost two of my pocket-handkerchiefs, and another one went up on +Dorry's kite, and blew away. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I did what you told me, when I got wet. I hung my clothes round the +kitchen stove on three chairs, but the cooking girl she flung them under +the table. So now I go wrinkled, and the boys chase me to smooth out the +wrinkles. I've got a good many hard rubs. But I laugh too. That's the +best way. Some of the boys play with me now, and ask me to go round with +them. Dorry hasn't yet. Tom Cush plagues the most. + +Sometimes the schoolmaster comes out to see us when we are playing ball, +or jumping. To-day, when we all clapped Dorry, the schoolmaster clapped +too. Somebody told me that he likes boys. Do you believe it? + +A cat ran up the spout this morning, and jumped in the window. Dorry was +going to choke her, or drown her, for the working-girl said she licked +out the inside of a custard-pie. I asked Dorry what he would take to let +her go, and he said five cents. So I paid. For she was just like my +sister's cat. And just as likely as not somebody's little sister would +have cried about it. For she had a ribbon tied round her neck. + +[Illustration] + +The woman that I go to have my buttons sewed on to, is a very good +woman. She gave me a cookie with a hole in the middle, and told me to +mind and not eat the hole. + +Coming back, I met Benjie, and he looked so sober, I offered it to him +as quick as I could. But it almost made him cry; because, he said, his +mother made her cookies with a hole in the middle. But when he gets +acquainted, he won't be so bashful, and he'll feel better then. + +We walked away to a good place under the trees, and he talked about his +folks, and his grandmother, and his Aunt Polly, and the two little +twins. They've got two cradles just like each other, and they are just +as big as each other, and just as old. They creep round on the floor, +and when one picks up anything, the other pulls it away. I wish we had +some twins. I told him things too. + +Kiss yourself for me. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. If you send a cake, send quite a large one. I like the kind that +Uncle Jacob does. Aunt Phebe knows. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I was going to tell you about "Gapper Skyblue." "Gapper" means grandpa. +He wears all the time blue overalls, faded out, and a jacket like them. +That's why they call him "Gapper Skyblue." He's a very poor old man. He +saws wood. We found him leaning up against a tree. Benjie and I were +together. His hair is all turned white, and his back is bent. He had +great patches on his knees. His hat was an old hat that he had given +him, and his shoes let in the mud. I wish you would please to be so good +as to send me both your old-fashioned india-rubbers, to make balls of, +as quick as holes come. Most all the boys have lost their balls. And +please to send some shoe-strings next time, for I have to tie mine up +all the time now with some white cord that I found, and it gets into +hard knots, and I have to stoop my head way down and untie 'em with my +teeth, because I cut my thumb whittling, and jammed my fingers in the +gate. + +Old Gapper Skyblue's nose is pretty long, and he looked so funny leaning +up against a tree, that I was just going to laugh. But then I remembered +what you said a real gentleman would do. That he would be polite to all +people, no matter what clothes they had on, or whether they were rich +people or poor people. He had a big basket with two covers to it, and we +offered to carry it for him. + +He said, "Yes, little boys, if you won't lift up the covers." + +We found 't was pretty heavy. And I wondered what was in it, and so did +Benjie. The basket was going to "The Two Betseys." + +When we had got half-way there, Dorry and Tom Cush came along, and +called out: "Hallo! there, you two. What are you lugging off so fast?" + +[Illustration] + +We said we didn't know. They said, "Let's see." We said, "No, you can't +see." Then they pushed us. Gapper was a good way behind. I sat down on +one cover, and Benjie on the other, to keep them shut up. + +Then they pulled us. I swung my arms round, and made the sand fly with +my feet, for I was just as mad as anything. Then Tom Cush hit me. So I +ran to tell Gapper to make haste. But first picked up a stone to send at +Tom Cush. But remembered about the boy that threw a stone and hit a boy, +and he died. I mean the boy that was hit. And so dropped the stone down +again and ran like lightning. + +"Go it, you pesky little red-headed firebug!" cried Tom Cush. + +"Go it, Spunkum! I'll hold your breath," Dorry hollered out. + +The dog, the shaggy dog that licked my face when I was lying under the +trees, he came along and growled and snapped at them, because they were +hurting Benjie. You see Benjie treats him well, and gives him bones. And +the master came in sight too. So they were glad to let us alone. + +The basket had rabbits in it. Gapper Skyblue wanted to pay us two cents +apiece. But we wouldn't take pay. We wouldn't be so mean. + +When we were going along to school, Bubby Short came and whispered to me +that Tom and Dorry were hiding my bird's eggs in a post-hole. But I got +them again. Two broke. + +Bubby Short is a nice little fellow. He's about as old as I am, but over +a head shorter and quite fat. His cheeks reach way up into his eyes. +He's got little black eyes, and little cunning teeth, just as white as +the meat of a punkin-seed. + +I had to pay twenty cents of that quarter you sent, for breaking a +square of glass. But didn't mean to, so please excuse. I haven't much +left. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. When punkins come, save the seeds--to roast. If you please. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +One of my elbows came through, but the woman sewed it up again. I've +used up both balls of my twine. And my white-handled knife,--I guess it +went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn't know of till after the +knife was lost. My trousers grow pretty short. But she says 't is partly +my legs getting long. I'm glad of that. And partly getting 'em wet. + +I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tumbled down and scraped a hole +through the knee of my oldest pair. For it was very rotten cloth. I +guess the hole is too crooked to have her sew it up again. She thinks a +mouse ran up the leg, and gnawed that hole my knife went through, to get +the crumbles in the pocket. I don't mean when they were on me, but +hanging up. + +My boat is almost rigged. She says she will hem the sails if I won't +leave any more caterpillars in my pockets. I'm getting all kinds of +caterpillars to see what kind of butterflies they make. + +Yesterday, Dorry and I started from the pond to run and see who would +get home first. He went one way, and I went another. + +I cut across the Two Betseys' garden. But I don't see how I did so much +hurt in just once cutting across. I knew something cracked,--that was +the sink-spout I jumped down on, off the fence. There was a board I hit, +that had huckleberries spread out on it to dry. They went into the +rain-water hogshead. I didn't know any huckleberries were spread out on +that board. + +I meant to go between the rows, but guess I stepped on a few beans. My +wrist got hurt dreadfully by my getting myself tripped up in a +squash-vine. And while I was down there, a bumble-bee stung me on my +chin. I stepped on a little chicken, for she ran the way I thought she +wasn't going to. I don't remember whether I shut the gate or not. But +guess not, for the pig got in, and went to rooting before Lame Betsey +saw him, and the other Betsey had gone somewhere. + +I got home first, but my wrist ached, and my sting smarted. You forgot +to write down what was good for bumble-bee stings. Benjie said his Aunt +Polly put damp sand on to stings. So he put a good deal of it on my +chin, and it got better, though my wrist kept aching in the night. And I +went to school with it aching. But didn't tell anybody but Benjie. Just +before school was done, the master said we might put away our books. +Then he talked about the Two Betseys, and told how Lame Betsey got lame +by saving a little boy's life when the house was on fire. She jumped out +of the window with him. And he made us all feel ashamed that we great +strong boys should torment two poor women. + +Then he told about the damage done the day before by some boy running +through their garden, and said five dollars would hardly be enough to +pay it. "I don't know what boy it was, but if he is present," says he, +"I call upon him to rise." + +Then I stood up. I was ashamed, but I stood up. For you told me once +this saying: "Even if truth be a loaded cannon walk straight up to it." + +The master ordered me not to go on to the playground for a week, nor be +out of the house in play-hours. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +I was very sorry that while in the neighborhood of the Crooked Pond +school, a short time since, lack of time prevented my finding out the +Two Betseys' shop. These worthy women, as will be seen further on, +became William Henry's firm friends. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Lame Betsey gave me something to put on my wrist that cured it. I went +there to ask how much money must be paid. I had sold my football, and my +brass sword, and my pocket-book. They told me they should not take any +money, but if I would saw some wood for them, and do an errand now and +then, they should be very glad. When I told Dorry, he threw up his hat, +and called out, "Three cheers for the 'Two Betseys.'" And when his hat +came down, he picked it up and passed it round; "for," says he, "we all +owe them something." One great boy dropped fifty cents in. And it all +came to about four dollars. And Bubby Short carried it to them. But I +shall saw some wood for them all the same. + +Last evening it was rainy. A good many boys came into our room, and we +sat in a row, and every one said some verses, or told a riddle. These +two verses I send for Aunt Phebe's little Tommy to learn. I guess he's +done saying "Fishy, fishy in the brook" by this time, Dorry said he got +them out of the German. + + "When you are rich, + You can ride with a span; + But when you are poor, + You must go as you can. + + "Better honest and poor, + And go as you can, + Than rich and a rogue, + And ride with a span." + +This riddle was too hard for me to guess. But Aunt Phebe's girls like to +guess riddles, and I will send it to them. Mr. Augustus says that a +soldier made it in a Rebel prison. Mr. Augustus is a tall boy, that +knows a good deal, and wears spectacles, and that's why we call him Mr. +Augustus. + +RIDDLE. + + I'm one half a Bible command, + That aye and forever shall stand; + And, throughout our beautiful land, + 'T is needed now to foil the traitorous band. + + I'm always around,--yet they say + Too often I'm out of the way. + Thereby leading astray; + I'm decked in jewels fine and rich array. + + Although from my heart I am stirred, + I can utter but one little word, + And that very seldom is heard; + My elder sister sometimes kept a bird. + + Reads the riddle clear to you? + I am very near to you: + Both very near and dear--to you, + Yet kept in chains. Does that seem queer to you? + +That about being "stirred from the heart" is all true. So is that about +being "_around_." The "Bible command," spoken of at the beginning, is +only in three words, or two words joined by "and." This word is the +first half. But I mustn't tell you too much. + +They are all _dear_. But some kinds are dearer than others. + +I wish my father would send me one. + +That about the bird is first-rate, though I never saw one of that kind +of--I won't say what I mean (Dorry says you mustn't say what you mean +when you tell riddles). But maybe you've seen one. They used to have +them in old times. + +I've launched my boat. She's the biggest one in school. Dorry broke a +bottle upon her, and christened her the "General Grant." The boys gave +three cheers when she touched water, and Benjie sent up his new kite. +It's a ripper of a kite with a great gilt star on it that's got eight +prongs. + +My hat blew off, and I had to go in swimming after it. It is quite +stiff. The master was walking by, and stopped to see the launching. When +he smiles, he looks just as pleasant as anything. + +He patted me on my cheek, and says he, "You ought to have called her the +'Flying Billy.'" And then he walked on. + +"What does 'Flying Billy' mean?" says I. + +"It means you," said Dorry. "And it means that you run fast, and that he +likes you. If a boy can run fast, and knows his multiplication-table, +and won't lie, he likes him." + +But how can such a great man like a small boy? + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. When the boys laugh at me, I laugh too. That's a good way. + +P. S. There's a man here that's got nine puppies. If I had some money I +could buy one. The boys don't plague me quite so much. I'm sorry you +dropped off your spectacles down the well. I suppose they sunk. I've got +a sneezing cold. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +About the spectacles, I may as well confess that I was the means of +their being lost. + +One day Uncle Jacob came into the office hastily, and, with a look of +distress, said to me very solemnly,-- + +"Mr. Fry, if you can, I want you to leave everything, and ride out with +me!" + +"Oh! what is the matter?" I exclaimed. + +"Why," said he, "ever since we sent out word about old clothes, they've +been coming in so fast the rooms are all filled up, and we don't know +where to go!" + +He then went on to tell that the notice had spread into all the +neighborhoods round about, and that bundles of every description were +constantly pouring in. They were left at the back door, front door, side +door, dropped on the piazza, and in at the windows. Men riding by tossed +them into the yard, and little boys came tugging bundles, bigger than +they could lift, or dragged them in roller-carts, or wheeled them in +wheelbarrows. He said he found bundles waiting for him at the store, at +the post-office, and he could hardly ride along the street without some +woman knocking at the window, and holding up one, and beckoning with her +forefinger for him to come in after it! Even in the meeting-house +somebody took a roll of something from under a shawl and handed him! He +would have brought, the parcels, or a part of them, but there was every +kind of a thing sent in,--white vests and flounced lace or muslin gowns, +and open-work stockings; and some things were too poor, and some were +too nice, and his folks thought Mr. Fry should come out. + +So what could I do but go? And, as it happened, I could "leave +everything" just as well as not, and was glad to. + + * * * * * + +Grandmother received me in the kindest manner, gave me a pair of black +yarn stockings, asked about the contrabands, talked about Billy, read me +his letters, and, on the whole, seemed much easier in her mind +concerning him than when I saw her before. + +She was skimming pans of milk. With her permission I watched the +skimming, for pans of milk to a city man were a rare sight to see! I was +also given some of the cream, and a baked Summer Sweeting to eat with +it. + +The cream was put into a large yellow bowl, and the bowl set in a +six-quart tin pail. It was then ready to be lowered into the well; for, +as country people seldom have ice, they use the well as a refrigerator, +and it is there they keep their butter, cream, fresh meat, or anything +that is likely to spoil. + +"Do let me lower it down the well for you," I said; seeing that her hand +trembled a little; and besides, I hardly thought it prudent for her to +go out, as the grass was damp, there having been quite a sprinkle of +rain. + +"Well, if you've a mind to take the trouble," she said, as she handed me +the pail, at the same time telling me to be particular about putting +stones around the bowl, in the bottom, to steady it. She then handed me +the line, and cautioned me about hitting another pail, which was already +down the well. + +Just as I went out Uncle Jacob passed through the gate into the garden, +to pick his mother some beans. + +"Sha' n't I do that?" he asked. + +"O no," said I; "I am very glad to make myself useful." + +Little Tommy stood by the well watching me, and I was talking to him and +playing with Towser, and by not attending to my business, I must have +tied a granny-knot, though I meant to tie a square one; and about +half-way down the pail slipped off, and went plump to the bottom. + +Little Tommy ran into the house calling out, "Grandmother! Grandmother! +that man lost your pail! Mr. Fwy let go of your pail!" + +Grandmother came running out and looked down. Her spectacles were tipped +up on top of her head; and when she bent over the well-curb they slipped +off, just touched the tip of her nose, and were out of sight in a +moment. + +Uncle Jacob came up laughing and said, "Of course the specs must go down +to see where the cream went to!" But Grandmother thought it was no +laughing matter. + +Mr. Carver and Uncle Jacob had a good many spells of fishing in the +well. At last Uncle Jacob was lucky enough to catch the handle of the +pail with his hook, and then he drew the pail up. It was found to be in +quite a damaged condition. The water looked creamy for some time. The +glasses never came to light. It seemed, therefore, no more than my duty +to send Grandmother another pair, which I did soon after in a bright new +six-quart pail, wishing with all my heart they were gold-bowed ones. But +I could not afford to do more than replace the lost ones. + +I will add that the six-quart pail was filled with the best of peaches. + + * * * * * + +The next three letters seem to have been sent at one time. Before they +reached Grandmother she had worked herself into a perfect fever of +anxiety. + +Owing to the rabbit affair, of which they contain the whole story, +William Henry had not felt like writing, so that, even before his +letter was begun, they at the farm were already looking for it to +arrive. Then it took a longer time than he expected to finish up his +account of the matter; and when at last the letter was sealed and +directed, the boy who carried it to the post-office forgot his errand, +and it hung in an overcoat pocket several days. No wonder, then, the old +lady grew anxious. + +I was at the farm at the time they were looking for the letters, and I +really tried very hard to be entertaining; but not the funniest story I +could tell about the funniest little rollypoly contraband in the +hospital could excite more than a passing smile. + +Aunt Phebe gave me my charge before I went in. + +"You must be lively," said she. "Be lively! Turn her thoughts off of +Billy! That's the way! Though I do feel worried," she added. "'T is a +puzzle why we don't have letters. I'm afraid something _is_ the matter, +or else it seems to me we should. He's been very good about writing. If +anything has happened to Billy, I don't know what we should do. 'T would +come pretty hard to Grandmother. And I do have my fears! But 't won't do +to let her know I worry about him. And you better be very lively! We all +have to be!" + +I observed that Mr. Carver, although he talked very calmly with his +mother, and urged her to rest easy, was after all not so very much at +ease himself. He sat by the window apparently reading a newspaper. But +it was plain that he only wished Grandmother to think he was reading; +for he paid but little attention to the paper, and was constantly +looking across the garden to see when Uncle Jacob should get back from +the post-office; and the moment Towser barked he folded his paper and +went out. Grandmother put on her "out-door" spectacles, and stood at the +window. When Mr. Carver returned she glanced rapidly over him with an +earnest, beseeching look, which seemed to say that it was not possible +but that somewhere about him, in some pocket, or in his hat, or shut up +in his hand, there must be a letter. + +"The mail was late," Mr. Carver said; "Uncle Jacob couldn't wait, and +had left the boy to fetch it." + +Grandmother was setting the table. In her travels to and from the +buttery she stopped often to glance up the road, and during meal-time +her eyes were constantly turning to the windows. + +Presently Aunt Phebe came in. + +"The boy didn't bring any letters," said she; "but I've been thinking it +over, and for my part I don't think 't is worth while to worry. No news +is good news. Bad news travels fast. A thousand things might happen to +keep a boy from writing. He might be out of paper, or out of stamps, or +out of anything to write about, or might have lessons to learn, or be +too full of play, or be kept after school, or might a good many things!" + +"You don't suppose," said Grandmother, "that--you don't think--it +couldn't be possible, could it, that Billy's been punished and feels +ashamed to tell of it?" + +"Nonsense!" said Aunt Phebe. "Now don't, Grandmother, I beg of you get +started off on that notion! Yesterday 't was the measles. And day before +'t was being drowned, and now 't is being punished!" + +"'T wouldn't be like William not to tell of it," said Mr. Carver. + +"Not a bit like him," said Aunt Phebe. + +"No," said Grandmother, "I don't think it would. But you know when +anybody gets to thinking, they are apt to think of everything." + +I told them there was a possibility of the letter being mis-sent. And +that idea reminded me of just such an anxious time we had once about +little Silas. His letter went to a town of the same name in Ohio, and +was a long time reaching us. I made haste to tell this to Grandmother, +and thought it comforted her a little. + +When I left the next morning, Mr. Carver followed me out and asked me to +make inquiries in regard to the telegraphic communication with the +Crooked Pond School, and to be in readiness to telegraph; for, in case +no letter came that day, he should send me word to do so. + +But no word arrived, as the next mail brought the following letters, +with their amusing illustrations. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I suppose if I should tell you I had had a whipping you would feel +sorry. Well, don't feel sorry. I will begin at the beginning. + +We can't go out evenings. But last Monday evening one of the teachers +said I might go after my overjacket that I took off to play ball, and +left hanging over a fence. It was a very light night. I had to go down a +long lane to get where it was; and when I got there, it wasn't there. +The moon was shining bright as day. Old Gapper Skyblue lives down that +lane. He raises rabbits. He keeps them in a hen-house. + +Now I will tell you what some of the great boys do sometimes. They steal +eggs and roast them. There is a fireplace in Tom Cush's room. Once they +roasted a pullet. The owners have complained so that the master said he +would flog the next boy that robbed a hen-house or an orchard, before +the whole school. + +Now I will go on about my overjacket. While I was looking for it I heard +a queer noise in the rabbit-house. So I jumped over. Then a boy popped +out of the rabbit-house and ran. I knew him in a minute, for all he ran +so fast,--Tom Cush. + +[Illustration] + +Now when he started to run, something dropped out of his hand. I went up +to it, and 't was a rabbit, a dead one, just killed; for when I stooped +down and felt of it, it was warm. And while I was stooping down, there +came a great heavy hand down on my shoulder. It was a man's great heavy +hand. + +Gapper had set a man there to watch. He hollered into my ears, "Now I've +got you!" I hollered, too, for he came sudden, without my hearing. + +"You little thief!" says he. + +"I didn't kill it," says I. + +"You little liar!" says he. + +"I'm not a liar," says I. + +"I'll take you to the master," says he. + +"Take me where you want to," says I. + +Then he pulled me along, and kept saying, "Who did, if you didn't? If +you didn't, who did?" + +And he walked me straight up into the master's room, without so much as +giving a knock at the door. + +"I've brought you a thief and a liar," says he. Then he told where he +found me, and what a bad boy I was. Then he went away, because the +master wanted to talk with me all by myself. + +Now I didn't want to tell tales of Tom, for it's mean to tell tales. So +all I could say was that I didn't do it. + +The master looked sorry. Said he was afraid I had begun to go with bad +boys. "Didn't I see you walking in the lane with Tom Cush yesterday?" +says he. I said I was helping him find his ball. And so I was. + +"If you were with the boys who did this," said he, "or helped about it +in any way, that's just as bad." + +I said I didn't help them, or go with them. + +"How came you there so late?" says he. + +"I went after my overjacket," says I. + +"And where is your overjacket?" says he. + +I said I didn't know. It wasn't there. + +Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the +morning. + +When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as +still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never +go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt. +Course, I knew 't wouldn't be like one of your little whippings. I +wasn't so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being +whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you +about the next morning, and how I was waked up. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I had to leave off and jump up and run to school without stopping to +sign my name, for the bell rang. But, now school is done, I will write +another letter to send with that, because you will want to know the end +at the same time you do the beginning. + +It was little pebbles that waked me up the next morning,--little pebbles +dropping down on my face. I looked up to find where they came from, and +saw Tom Cush standing in the door. He was throwing them. He made signs +that he wanted to tell me something. So I got up. And while I was +getting up, I saw my overjacket on the back of a chair. I found out +afterwards that Benjie brought it in, and forgot to tell me. + +Tom made signs for me to go down stairs with him. He wouldn't let me put +my shoes on. He had his in his hand, and I carried mine so. So we went +through the long entries in our stocking-feet, and sat down on the +doorstep to put our shoes on. Nobody else had got up. The sky was +growing red. I never got up so early before, except one Fourth of July, +when I didn't go to bed, but only slept some with my head leaned down on +a window-seat, and jumped up when I heard a gun go off. Tom carried me +to a place a good ways from the house. Our shoes got soaking wet with +dew. + +Now I will tell you what he said to me. + +He asked me if I saw him anywhere the night before. I said I did. + +He asked me where I saw him. + +I said I saw him coming out of the hen-house, where Gapper Skyblue kept +his rabbits. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was sure. + +"And did you tell the master?" says he. + +I said, "No." + +"Nor the boys?" + +"No." + +Then he told me he had been turned away from one school on account of +his bad actions, and he wouldn't have his father hear of this for +anything; and said that, if I wouldn't tell, he would give me a +four-bladed knife, and quite a large balloon, and show me how to send +her up, and if I was flogged he would give me a good deal more, would +give money,--would give two dollars. + +"I don't believe he'll whip you," says he, "for he likes you. And if he +does, he wouldn't whip a small boy so hard as he would a big one." + +I said a little whipping would hurt a little boy just as much as a great +whipping would hurt a great boy. But I said I wouldn't be mean enough to +tell or to take pay for not telling. + +He didn't say much more. And we went towards home then. But before we +came to the house, he turned off into another path. + +A little while after, I heard somebody walking behind me. I looked +round, and there was the master. He'd been watching with a sick man all +night. + +He asked me where I had been so early. I said I had been taking a walk. +He asked who the boy was that had just left me. I said 't was Tom Cush. +He asked if I was willing to tell what we had been talking about. I said +I would rather not tell. + +Says he, "It has a bad look, your being out with that boy so early, +after what happened last night." + +Then he asked me where I had found my overjacket. I said, "In my +chamber, sir, on a chair-back." + +"And how came it there?" says he. + +"I don't know, sir," says I. + +And, Grandmother, I almost cried; for everything seemed going against +me, to make me out a bad boy. I will tell the rest after supper. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Now I will tell you what happened that afternoon. + +The school was about half done. + +The master gave three loud raps with his ruler. + +This made the room very still. + +He asked the other teachers to come up to the platform. And they did. + +Next, he waved his ruler, and said, "Fold." + +And we all folded our arms. + +It was so still that we could hear the clock tick. + +He told Tom Cush to close the windows and shut the blinds. + +Then he talked to us about stealing and telling lies. Said he didn't +like to punish, but it must be done. He said he had reason to believe +that the boy whose name he should call out was not honest, that he took +other people's things and told lies. + +Then he told the story, all that he knew about it, and said he hoped +that all concerned in it would have honor enough to speak out and own +it. + +Nobody said anything. + +Then the master said, "William Henry, you may come to the platform." + +I went up. + +Somebody way in the back part shouted out, "Don't believe it!" + +"Silence!" said the master. And he thumped his ruler on the desk. + +Then he told me to take off my jacket, and fold it up. And I did. + +He told me to hand my collar and ribbon to a teacher. And I did. + +Then he laid down his ruler, and took his rod and bent it to see if it +was limber. It wasn't exactly a rod. It was the thing I told you about +when I first came to this school. + +[Illustration] + +He tried it twice on the desk first. + +Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my back round towards him. +He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the +neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight. + +At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, "Master! Master! Stop! Don't! +He didn't do it! He didn't kill it! I know who! I'll tell! I will! I +will! I don't care what Tom Cush does! 'T was Tom Cush killed it!" + +The master didn't say one word. But he handed me my jacket. + +The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them. + +Then he said to me, whispering, "Is this so, William?" And I said, low, +"Yes, sir." + +Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down +he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly,--it made me remember the +way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, "My dear boy," then +stopped and began again, "My dear boy," and stopped again. If he'd been +a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a +man wouldn't. And what should he cry for? It wasn't he that almost had a +whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then +Bubby Short was called up to the platform. + +Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it. + +He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of +Tom's. 'T isn't much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him. +That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby +Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom +telling another boy about the rabbit. + +He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he +peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a +black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and +made, when he was running. + +But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, +and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he +would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me. + +Wasn't he a nice little fellow to tell? + +O, I was so glad when the boys all clapped! And when we were let out, +they came and shook hands with Bubby Short and me. Great boys and all. +Mr. Augustus, and Dorry, and all. And the master told me how glad he was +that he could keep on thinking me to be an honest boy. + +Now aren't you glad you didn't feel sorry? + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +The next time I went down to the farm I was told, of course, all about +the foregoing letters,--how they were received, and what effect they +produced in the family when they were read. Grandmother, however, gives +a happy account of the reception and reading of them in the following +reply, which she wrote soon after they were received. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother's Letter to William Henry, in reply._ + +MY DEAR LITTLE BOY,-- + +Your poor old grandmother was so glad to get those letters, after such +long waiting! My dear child, we were anxious; but now we are pleased. I +was afraid you were down with the measles, for they're about. Your aunt +Phebe thinks you had 'em when you were a month old; but I know better. + +Your father was anxious himself at not hearing; though he didn't show it +any. But I could see it plain enough. As soon as he brought the letters +in, I set a light in the window to let your aunt Phebe know she was +wanted. She came running across the yard, all of a breeze. You know how +your aunt Phebe always comes running in. + +"What is it?" says she. "Letters from Billy? I mistrusted 't was letters +from Billy. In his own handwriting? Must have had 'em pretty light. +Measles commonly leave the eyes very bad." + +But you know how your aunt Phebe goes running on. Your father came in, +and sat down in his rocking-chair,--your mother's chair, dear. Your +sister was sewing on her doll's cloak by the little table. She sews +remarkably well for a little girl. + +"Now, Phebe," says I, "read loud, and do speak every word plain." I put +on my glasses, and drew close up, for she does speak her words so fast. +I have to look her right in the face. + +At the beginning, where you speak about being whipped, your father's +rocking-chair stopped stock still. You might have heard a pin drop. +Georgianna said, "O dear!" and down dropped the doll's cloak. "Pshaw!" +said Aunt Phebe, "'t isn't very likely our Billy's been whipped." + +Then she read on and on, and not one of us spoke. Your father kept his +arms folded up, and never raised his eyes. I had to look away, towards +the last, for I couldn't see through my glasses. Georgianna cried. And, +when the end came, we all wiped our eyes. + +"Now what's the use," said Aunt Phebe, "for folks to cry before they're +hurt?" + +"But you almost cried yourself," said Georgianna. "Your voice was +different, and your nose is red now." And that was true. + +After your sister was in bed, and Aunt Phebe gone, your father says to +me: "Grandma, the boy's like his mother." And he took a walk around the +place, and then went off to his bedroom without even opening his night's +paper. If ever a man set store by his boy, that man is your father. And, +O Billy, if you had done anything mean, or disgraced yourself in any +way, what a dreadful blow 't would have been to us all! + +The measles come with a cough. The first thing is to drive 'em out. Get +a nurse. That is, if you catch them. They're a natural sickness, and one +sensible old woman is better than half a dozen doctors. Saffron's good +to drive 'em out. + +Aunt Phebe is knitting you a comforter. As if she hadn't family enough +of her own to do for! + +From your loving + +GRANDMOTHER. + + * * * * * + +I think this the proper place to insert the following letter from Dorry +Baker to his sister. I am sorry we have so few of Dorry's letters. Two +very entertaining ones will be given presently, describing a visit Dorry +made to William Henry's home. The two boys, as we shall see, soon after +their acquaintance, grew to be remarkably good friends. Mr. Baker, +Dorry's father, hearing his son's glowing accounts of William Henry's +family, took a little trip to Summer Sweeting place on purpose to see +them, and was so well pleased with Grandmother, Mr. Carver, Uncle Jacob, +and the rest, as to suggest to his wife that they should buy some land +in the vicinity, and turn farmers. He and Grandmother had a very +pleasant talk about their boys; and not long after, knowing, I suppose, +that it would gratify the old lady, he sent her some of Dorry's letters, +that she might have the pleasure of reading for herself what Dorry had +written about her Billy, and about Billy's people and Billy's home. +Perhaps, too, Mr. Baker was a little bit proud of the smart letters his +son could write. + + * * * * * + +_Dorry's Letter to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +If mother's real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But +if it's baking-day, or washing-day, or company's coming off, or +preserves going on, or anything's upset down below; or if she's got a +headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that's bad,--then wait. + +I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Saturday. Not a +very big boy,--do very well to "Philopene" with you: won't put her out a +bit. + +If you don't like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came +we used to plague him on account of his looks. He's got a furious head +of hair, and freckles. But we don't think at all about his looks now. If +anything, we like his looks. + +He's just as pleasant and gen'rous, and not a mean thing about him. I +don't believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn't. +He's always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give +anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat +to make their side beat. You don't catch William Henry at any such mean +business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too. + +I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other +boys. + +One day he had a box come from home. 'T was his birthday. It was full of +good things. Says I to the boys, "Now, maybe, if we hadn't plagued him +so, he would give us some of his goodies." + +That very afternoon, when we had done playing, and ran up to brush the +mud off our trousers, we found a table all spread out with a table-cloth +that he had borrowed, and in the middle was a frosted cake with "W. H." +on top done in red sugar. And close to that were some oranges, and a +dish full of nuts, and as much as a pound of candy, and more figs than +that, and four great cakes of maple-sugar, made on his father's land, as +big as small johnny-cakes, and another kind of cake. And doughnuts. + +"Come, boys," says he, "help yourselves." + +But not a boy stirred. + +I felt my face a-blushing like everything. O, we were all of us just as +ashamed as we could be! We didn't dare go near the table. But he kept +inviting us, and at last began to pass them round. + +And I tell you the things were tip-top and more too. Such cake! And +doughnuts, that his cousin made! And tarts! You must learn how. But I +don't believe you ever could. Of course we had manners enough not to +take as much as we wanted. I want to tell you some more things about +him. But wait till I come. He's most as old as you are, and is always a +laughing, the same as you are. + +Ask mother what I told you. Take her at her cleverest, and don't eat up +all the sweet apples. + +From your brother, + +DORRY. + +P. S. Put some away in meal to mellow. Don't mellow 'em with your +knuckles. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Baker, I imagine, was not particularly fond of boys. She gave her +permission, however, for Dorry to bring a "muddy-shoed" companion home +with him, as we see by the following letter from William Henry to his +grandmother. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from William Henry._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Dorry asked his sister to ask his mother if he might ask me to go home +with him. And she said yes; but to wait a week first, because the house +was just got ready to have a great party, and she couldn't stand two +muddy-shoed boys. May I go? + +Tom Cush was sent home; but he didn't go. His father lives in the same +town that Dorry does. He has been here to look for him. + +I never went to make anybody a visit. I hope you will say yes. I should +like to have some money. Everybody tells boys not to spend money; but +if they knew how many things boys want, and everything tasted so good, I +believe they would spend money themselves. Please write soon. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +To this short letter Grandmother sent at once the following reply; and +in the succeeding letters from William Henry we get a pretty good idea +of what sort of people Dorry's folks were, and also hear something about +Tom Cush. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother's Second Letter._ + +MY DEAR BOY,-- + +Do you have clothes enough on your bed? Ask for an extra blanket. I do +hope you will take care of yourself. When the rain beats against the +windows, I think, "Now who will see that he stands at the fire and dries +himself?" And you're very apt to hoarse up nights. We are willing you +should go to see Dorry. Your uncle J. has been past his father's place, +and he says there's been a pretty sum of money laid out there. Behave +well. Wear your best clothes. Your aunt Phebe has bought a book for her +girls that tells them how to behave. It is for boys too, or for anybody. +I shall give you a little advice, and mix some of the book in with it. + +Never interrupt. Some children are always putting themselves forward +when grown people are talking. Put "sir" or "ma'am" to everything you +say. Make a bow when introduced. If you don't know how, try it at a +looking-glass. Black your shoes, and toe out if you possibly can. I +hope you know enough to say "Thank you," and when to say it. Take your +hat off, without fail, and step softly, and wipe your feet. + +Be sure and have some woman look at you before you start, to see that +you are all right. Behave properly at table. The best way will be to +watch and see how others do. But don't stare. There is a way of looking +without seeming to look. A sideways way. + +Anybody with common sense will soon learn how to conduct properly; and +even if you should make a mistake, when trying to do your best, it isn't +worth while to feel very much ashamed. _Wrong_ actions are the ones to +be ashamed of. And let me say now, once for all, never be ashamed +because your father is a farmer and works with his hands. Your father's +a man to be proud of; he is kind to the poor; he is pleasant in his +family; he is honest in his business; he reads high kind of books; he's +a kind, noble Christian man; and Dorry's father can't be more than all +this, let him own as much property as he may. + +I mention this because young folks are apt to think a great deal more of +a man that has money. + +Your aunt Phebe wants to know if you won't write home from Dorry's, +because her Matilda wants a stamp from that post-office. If the colt +brings a very good price, you may get a very good answer to your riddle. + +From your loving + +GRANDMOTHER. + +P. S. Take your overcoat on your arm. When you come away, bid good by, +and say that you have had a good time. If you have had,--not without. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Reply._ + +DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I am here. The master let us off yesterday noon, and we got here before +supper, and this is Saturday night, and I have minded all the things +that you said. I got all ready and went down to the Two Betseys to let +some woman look at me, as you wrote. They put on both their spectacles +and looked me all over, and picked off some dirt-specks, and made me +gallus up one leg of my trousers shorter, and make some bows, and then +walk across the room slow. + +They thought I looked beautiful, only my hair was too long. Lame Betsey +said she used to be the beater for cutting hair, and she tied her apron +round my throat, and brought a great pair of shears out, that she used +to go a-tailoring with. The Other Betsey, she kept watch to see when +both sides looked even. + +Lame Betsey tried very hard. First she stood off to look, and then she +stood on again. She said her mother used to keep a quart-bowl on purpose +to cut her boys' hairs with; she clapped it over their heads, and then +clipped all round by it even. The shears were jolly shears, only they +couldn't stop themselves easy, and the apron had been where snuff was, +and made me sneeze in the wrong place. Says I, "If you'll only take off +this apron, I'll jump up and shake myself out even." I'm so glad I'm a +boy. Aprons are horrid. So are apron-strings, Dorry says. + +They gave me a few peppermints, and said to be sure not to run my head +out and get it knocked off in the cars, and not to get out till we +stopped going, and to beware of pickpockets. + +[Illustration] + +O, we did have a jolly ride in the cars! Do you think my father would +let me be the boy that sells papers in the cars? I wish he would. I +didn't see any pickpockets. We got out two miles before we got there. I +mean to the right station. For Dorry wanted to make his sister Maggie +think we hadn't come. + +We took a short cut through the fields. Not very short. And went through +everything. My best clothes too. But I guess 't will all rub off. There +were some boggy places. + +When we came out at Dorry's house, it was in the back yard. I said to +Dorry, "There's your mother on the doorstep. She looks clever." + +Dorry said, "She? She's the cook. I'll tell mother of that. No, I won't +neither." + +I suppose he saw I'd rather he wouldn't. The cook said everybody had +gone out. Then Dorry took me into a jolly great room and left me. Three +kinds of curtains to every window! What's the use of that? Gilt spots on +the paper, and gilt things hanging down from up above. A good many kinds +of chairs. I was going to sit down, but they kept sinking in. Everything +sinks in here. I tried three, and this made me laugh, for I seemed to +myself like the little boy that went to the bears' house and tried their +chairs, and their beds, and their bowls of milk. Then I came to a +looking-glass big enough for the very biggest bear. I thought I would +make some bows before it, as you said. I was afraid I couldn't make a +bow and toe out at the same time. Because it is hard to think up and +down both at once. While I was trying to, I heard a little noise, I +looked round, and--what do you think? Bears? O no. Not bears. A queen +and a princess, I thought. All over bright colors and feathers and shiny +silks. The queen--that's Dorry's mother you know,--couldn't think who I +was, because they had been to the depot, and thought we hadn't come. So +she looked at me hard, and I suppose I was very muddy. And she said, +"Were you sent of an errand here?" Before I could make up any answer, +Dorry came in. He had some cake, and he passed it round with a very +sober face. Then he introduced me, and I made quite a good bow, and +said, "Very well, I thank you, ma'am." + +I tried to pull my feet behind me, and wished I was sitting down, for +she kept looking towards them; and I wanted to sit down on the lounge, +but I was afraid 't wouldn't bear. She was quite glad to see Dorry. But +didn't hug him very hard. I know why. Because she had those good things +on. Dorry's grandmother lives here. She can't bear to hear a door slam. +She wears her black silk dress every day. And her best cap too. 'T is a +stunner of a cap. White as anything. And a good deal of white strings to +it. Everything makes her head ache. I'd a good deal rather have you. +When boys come nigh, she puts her hand out to keep them off. This is +because she has nerves. Dorry says his mother has 'em sometimes. I like +his father. Because he talks to me some. But he's very tired. His office +tires him. He isn't a very big man. He doesn't laugh any. If Maggie was +a boy she'd be jolly. She'll fly kites, or anything, if her mother isn't +looking. Her mother don't seem a bit like Aunt Phebe. I don't believe +she could lift a teakettle. Not a real one. When she catches hold of her +fork, she sticks her little finger right up in the air. She makes very +pretty bows to the company. Sinks way down, almost out of sight. She +gave us a dollar to spend; wasn't she clever? Dorry says she likes him +tip-top. If he'll only keep out of the way. + +I guess I'd rather live at our house. About every room in this house is +too good for a boy. But I tell you they have tip-top things here. Great +pictures and silver dishes! Now, I'll tell you what I mean to do when +I'm a man. I shall have a great nice house like this, and nice things in +it. But the folks shall be like our folks. I shall have horses, and a +good many silver dishes. And great pictures, and gilt books for children +that come a-visiting. And you shall have a blue easy-chair, and sit down +to rest. + +Now, maybe you'll say, "But, Billy, Billy, where are you going to get +all these fine things?" O you silly grandmother! Don't you remember your +own saying that you wrote down?--"What a man wants he can get, if he +tries hard enough." Or a boy either, you said. I shall try hard enough. +There's more to write about. But I'm sleepy. I would tell you about Tom +Cush's father coming here, only my eyes can't keep open. Isn't it funny +that when you are sleepy your eyes keep shutting up and your mouth keeps +coming open? Please excuse the lines that go crooked. There's another +gape! I guess Aunt Phebe will be tired reading all this. I'm on her +side. I mean about measles. I'd rather have 'em when I was a month old. +I suppose I was a month old once. Don't seem as if 't was the same one I +am now. But if I do have 'em,--there I go gaping again,--if I catch 'em, +and all the doctors do come, I'll--O dear! There I go again. I do +believe I'm asleep--I'll--I'll get some natural-born old woman to drive +'em out, as you said, and good night. + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I am back again, and had a good time; but came back hungry. I'll tell +you why. The first time I sat down to table I felt bashful, and Dorry's +mother said a great deal about my having a small appetite, and +afterwards I didn't like to make her think it was a large one. + +I guess I behaved quite well at the table. But I couldn't look the way +you said. It made me feel squint-eyed. Once I almost laughed at table. +The day they had roast duck, it smelt nice. I thought it wouldn't go +round, for they had company besides me; and I said, "No, I thank you, +ma'am." Dorry whispered to me, "You must be a goose not to love duck"; +and that was when I almost laughed at table. His grandmother shook her +head at him. + +Now I'll tell about Tom Cush's father. That Saturday, when we were +eating dinner, somebody came to the front door, and inquired for us +two,--Dorry and me. It was Tom Cush's father. He wanted to ask us about +Tom, and whether we knew anything about him. But we knew no more than he +did. He talked some with us. The next evening,--Sunday evening,--Tom +Cush's mother sent for Dorry and me to come and see her. His father came +after us. She said they wanted to know more about what I wrote to you in +those letters. + +O, I don't want ever again to go where the folks are so sober. The room +was just as still as anything, not much light burning, and great +curtains hanging way down, and she looked like a sick woman. Just as +pale! Only sometimes she stood up and walked, and then sat down again, +and leaned way forward, and asked a question, and looked into our faces +so. We didn't know what to do. Dorry talked more than I could. Tom's +father kept just as sober! He said to Dorry: "It is true, then, that my +boy wouldn't own up to his own actions?" or something like that. + +Dorry said, "Yes, sir." + +Tom's father said, "And he was willing to sit still and see another boy +whipped in his place?" + +"Yes, sir," Dorry said. But he didn't say it very loud. + +Then they stopped asking questions, and not one of us spoke for ever so +long. O, 't was so still! At last Dorry said, just as softly, "Can't you +find him anywhere?" And then I said that I didn't believe he was lost. + +Then Tom's father got up from his chair and said, "Lost? That's not it. +That's not it. 'T is his not being honorable! 'T is his not being true! +Lost? Why, he was lost before he left the school." Says he: "When he did +a mean thing, then he lost himself. For he lost his truth. He lost his +honor. There's nothing left worth having when they are gone." + +O, I never saw Dorry so sober as he was that night going home. And when +we went to bed, he hardly spoke a word, and didn't throw pillows, or +anything. I shut my eyes up tight and thought about you all at home, and +Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, and about school, and about +Bubby Short, and all the time Tom's mother's eyes kept looking at me +just as they did; and when I was asleep I seemed back again in that +lonesome room, and they two sitting there. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I want to tell that when I was at Dorry's I let a little vase fall +down and break. I didn't think it was so rotten. I felt sorry; but +didn't say so; I didn't know how to say it very well. I wish grown-up +folks would know that boys feel sorry very often when they don't say +so, and sometimes they think about doing right, too. And mean to, but +don't tell of it. Next time I shall tell about Bubby Short and me going +to ride in Gapper's donkey-cart. He's going to lend it to us. I should +like to buy them a new vase. + +W. H. + +P. S. Benjie's had a letter, and one twin fell down stairs. + + * * * * * + +There is one sentence in the first paragraph of the following letter +which reminds me of a very windy day, when I was staying at Summer +Sweeting place. + +In returning from a walk, by a short cut across the field, I met a boy +who was running just about as fast as he could. + +Soon after I came to another and much smaller boy, who was not running +at all, but was sitting flat upon the ground, under a tree, and crying +with might and main. This smaller boy proved to be Tommy. On a branch of +the tree, just out of his reach, hung a broom, towards which his weeping +eyes were turned in despair. A paper of peanuts which I happened to have +soon quieted him, because, in order to crack them, he had to shut his +mouth. At the first of it, however, he went on with his crying while +picking out the meats, which so amused me that I was obliged to turn +aside and laugh. + +It appeared that Tommy had been riding horseback on his mother's broom +"to see Billy," and when he had made believe get there, he wanted to +hitch his horse. A larger boy, out of mischief, or rather in mischief, +bent down a branch of the tree, telling Tommy there was a tiptop thing +to tie up to. He helped Tommy to tie the horse to the branch, and then +ran off across the field. It is very plain what happened when the branch +sprang back to its place. + +I unhitched the _animal_, and then Tommy and I mounted it, he behind me, +and away we cantered to the house, my amazing gallops causing the little +chap to laugh as loudly as he had cried. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Please to tell my sister I am much obliged to her for picking up that +old iron for me. But that old rusty fire-shovel handle, I guess that +will not do to put in again. For my father said, the last time, that he +had bought that old fire-shovel handle half a dozen times. But Aunt +Phebe's Tommy, he pulls it out again to ride horseback on. + +I know a little girl just about as big as my sister, named Rosy. Maybe +that is not her name. Maybe it is, because her face is so rosy. She had +a lamb. And she's lost it. It ate out of her hand, and it followed her. +It was a pet lamb. But it's lost. Gapper came up to inquire about it. +Mr. Augustus wrote a notice and nailed it on to the Liberty Pole, and +then Dorry chalked out a white lamb on black pasteboard, and painted a +blue ribbon around its neck, and hung that up there too. + +Gapper let Bubby Short and me have his donkey-cart to go to ride in. He +kicked up when we licked him, and broke something. But a man came by and +mended it. So we didn't get back till after dark. But the master didn't +say anything after we told the reason why. Did you ever see a ghost? Do +you believe they can whistle? I'll tell you what I ask such a question +for. + +There is an old house, and part of it is torn down, and nobody lives in +it. It is built close to where the woods begin. The boys say there is a +ghost in it. I'll tell you why. They say that if anybody goes by there +whistling, something inside of that house whistles the same tune. Dorry +says it's a jolly old ghost. Mr. Augustus thinks 'tis all very silly. +Now I'll tell you something. + +The night Bubby Short and I were coming back from taking a ride in +Gapper's donkey-cart, we tried it. We didn't dare to lick him again, for +fear he would kick up, so we rode just as slow!--and it was a lonesome +road, but the moon was shining bright. + +Says Bubby Short, "Do you believe that's the honeymoon?" + +"No," says I. "That's what shines when a man is married to his wife." + +"Are you scared of ghosts?" said Bubby Short. + +"Can't tell till I see one," says I. + +"How far off do you suppose they can see a fellow?" says he. + +Says I, "I don't know. They can see best in the dark." + +"Do you think they'd hurt a fellow?" says he. + +"Maybe," says I. "There's the old house." + +"I know it," says he; "I've been looking at it." + +Says I, "Are you scared to whistle?" + +"Scared! No," says he. "Let's whistle, I say." + +"Well," says I, "you whistle first." + +"No," says he, "you whistle first." + +"Let _him_ whistle first," says I. + +"He won't do it. Ghosts never whistle first," says he. + +I asked him who said that, and he said 't was Dorry. + +Then I said, "Let's whistle together." + +So we waited till we almost got past, and then whistled "Yankee Doodle." +And, grandmother, it did,--it whistled it. + +Bubby Short whispered, "Lick him a little." + +Then I whispered back, "'T won't do to. If I do, he won't go any." + +But in a minute he began to go faster of his own accord. He heard +somebody ahead calling. It was Gapper, coming to see what the matter was +that kept us so late. Now what do you think about it? + +From your affectionate + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. My boots leak. Shall I get them tapped, or get a new pair, or +throw them away, or else keep the legs to make new boots of? + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +Here we have William Henry trying his hand at story-telling. + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Sometimes Dorry writes stories in his letters for his sister, just as he +tells them to her, talking, at home. Now I'll write one for my sister, +and I'll call it by a name. I'll call it + + +THE STORY OF THE GREAT STORM. + +Once there was a little boy named Billy, and Gapper lent him his donkey +to go ride. That's me, you know. Next day Gapper came and said, "You +boys lost my whip." Now I remembered having the whip when we crept in +among the bushes,--for we got sight of a woodchuck, and came near +finding his hole. So when school was done at noon, I asked leave to put +some bread and meat in my pocket, instead of eating any dinner, and go +to look for Gapper's whip. And he said I might. 'T was two miles off. +But I found it. And I dug for a good deal of saxifax-root. And picked +lots of boxberry-plums. + +And I never noticed how the sky looked, till I heard a noise something +like thunder. It was very much like thunder. Almost just like it. I +thought it was thunder. Only it sounded a great ways off. I was walking +along slow, snapping my whip and eating my dinner, for I thought I +wouldn't hurry for thunder, when something hard dropped down close to +me. Then another dropped,--and then another. And they kept dropping. I +picked one up and found they were hailstones, and they were bigger than +bullets. + +It kept growing dark, and the hailstones came thicker, and hit me in the +face. Then they began to pour right down, and I ran. They beat upon me +just like a driving storm all of sharp stones. The horses and cows cut +across the fields like mad. The horses flung up their heads. I was +almost to that old house and ran for that, and kicked the door through +to get in, for I thought I should be killed with the hail. The shingles +off the roof were flying about; and when I got inside, 't was awful. I +thought to be sure the roof would be beat in. Such a noise! It sounded +just exactly as if a hundred cartloads of stones were being tipped up on +to the roof. And then the window-glass! It was worse than being out +doors, for the window-glass was flying criss-cross about the room, like +fury, all mixed up with the hail. I crouched down all in a bunch and put +my arms over my head, and so tried to save myself. But then I spied a +closet door a crack open, and I jumped in there. And there I sat all +bent over with my hands up to my ears, and thought, O, what would become +of me if the old house should go? And now the strangest part is coming. +You see 't was a pretty deep closet--School-bell! I didn't think 't was +half time for that to ding. I'll tell the rest next time. Should you +care if I brought home Dorry to make a visit? He wants to bad. 'T would +be jolly if Bubby Short went too. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Everybody's been setting glass. Counting the house and the school-house, +and the panes set over the barn door, and four squares in the hen-house, +we had to set four hundred and twenty-three squares. The express-man has +brought loads and loads. All the great boys helped set. We slept one +night with bedquilts and rugs hung up to the windows. The master tried +to shut his blind in the storm, but the hail drove him in, and he +couldn't even shut down his window again. A rich man has given to the +Two Betseys better windows than they had before. Now I will tell about +my being in that closet. + +When it began to grow stiller, I took my hands down from my ears, and +one hand when it came down touched something soft. Quite soft and warm. +I jumped off from it in a hurry. Then I heard a kind of bleating noise, +and a little faint "ba'a ba'a." But now comes the very strangest part. +Farther back in the closet I heard somebody move, somebody step. I was +scared, and gave the door a push, to let the light in. Now who do you +think was there? Aunt Phebe must stop reading and let you guess. But +maybe you're reading yourself. Then stop and guess. 'T wasn't a ghost. +'T wasn't a man. 'T wasn't a woman. 'T was Tom Cush! and Rosy's lamb! + +Says he, "William Henry!" Says I, "Tom!" Then we walked out into the +room, and O, what a sight! Says I, "I thought 't was going to be the end +of the old house." + +Says Tom, "I thought 't was going to be the end of the world." + +In the corners the hailstones were heaped up in great banks. You might +have shovelled up barrels full. Most of them were the size of bird's +eggs. But some were bigger. Then we looked out doors. The ground was all +white, and drifts in every cornering place, and the leaves stripped off +the trees. Then we looked at one another, and he was just as pale as +anything. He leaned against the wall, and I guessed he was crying. To +see such a great boy crying seemed most as bad as the hailstorm. Maybe +he didn't cry. When he turned his head round again, says he: "Billy, I'm +sick, and what shall I do?" + +"Go home," says I. + +"No," says he, "I won't go home. And if you let 'em know, I'll--" And +then he picked up Gapper's whip,--"I'll flog you." + +"Flog away," says I; "maybe I shall, and maybe I sha' n't." + +He dropped the whip down, and says he, "Billy, I sha' n't ever touch +you. But they mustn't know till I'm gone to sea." + +I asked him when he was going. And he told me all about it. + +When he was sent away from school, he went into town and inquired about +the wharves for a chance to go, and got one, and came back to get some +things he left hid in the old house, and to wait till 't was time to go. +He sold his watch, and bought a great bag full of hard bread and cheese +and cakes. + +He was mad at Gapper for setting a man to watch, and so he took Rosy's +lamb. He was going to kill it. And then skin it. But he couldn't do it. +It licked his hand, and looked up so sorryful, he couldn't do it. And +when he cut his foot--he cut it chopping something. That's why he stayed +there so long. And he was the ghost that whistled. He knew the fellows +wouldn't go in to see what it was that whistled. And he ate up most all +his things, and tied a string to the lamb, and let it out nights to eat +grass, and then pulled it in again. + +I wouldn't have stayed there so for anything. He went into town three +times, nights, to get victuals to eat. I don't see what he wants to be +such a kind of a boy for. He says he means to go to sea, and if ever +he's good he's going home. I told him about his father and mother, and +he walked while I was talking, and kept his back towards me. I asked him +what ailed him, and he said 't was partly cutting him, and partly +sleeping cold nights, and partly the crackers and cheese. I gave him the +rest of my meat, and he was glad enough. + +He said he was ashamed to go home. + +Now I have got to the end of another sheet of paper. I wish I hadn't +begun to tell my sister this story. It takes so long. And I want every +minute of the time to play in. For 't is getting a little cooler, and a +fellow can stand it to run some. The master says it's good weather for +studying. Dorry says he never saw any weather yet good enough for +studying. I shall write a very short letter next time, to tell the rest +of it. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I forgot to put this letter in the office. I guess I will not +write any more letters till I go home. I was going to tell more, but I +can do it better talking. I went to see Tom Cush the next day, and he +had gone. Rosy's got her lamb back again. But her flower-garden was +killed by the hail. Not one leaf left. She found her lamb on the +doorstep, waiting to get in. + + * * * * * + +We have next a letter from Aunt Phebe, a dear, good-hearted woman, who +took almost a mother's interest in William Henry. Indeed, I have heard +her remark, that she hardly knew any difference between her feelings for +him and for her own children. + +Some of her letters will be found to contain good advice, given in a +very amusing way. + + * * * * * + +_Letter from Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +You rogue, you! I meant to have written before. You've frightened us all +to pieces with your ghost that wasn't a ghost, and your whipping that +wasn't a whipping, and your measles that you didn't have. Grandmother +may talk, but she's losing her memory. You were red as a beet with 'em. +As if I didn't carry you about all night and go to sleep walking! + +Grandmother says, "Yes, indeed! bring Dorry, and let him stay a week if +he wants to." Bless her soul! She'll always keep her welcome warm, so +never mind her memory. And Bubby Short, too. Pray bring Bubby Short. I +want to see his black eyes shine. Don't Benjie want to come? I've got +beds enough, and girls enough to work, and a great batch of poor +mince-pies that I want eaten up. Don't see how I came to make such a +miss in my pies this baking. Your uncle J. thinks I skinched on plums. +There never was such a man for plums. I do believe if they were put into +his biscuits he'd think he'd got no more than his rights. + +Your uncle J. says: "Tell the boys to come on. I've got apples to +gather, and husking to do." They'd better bring some old clothes to +wear. This is such a tearing place. I've put my Tommy into jacket and +trousers. He used to hitch his clothes upon every rail. Such a climber! +I don't know what that boy'll be when he grows up. + +I send you a good warm comforter, knit in stripes; and all the family +are knit into it, especially Tommy. The pink stripes are his good-boy +days, and the black ones are his naughty actions. I showed him where I +knit 'em in. That clouded gray and black stripe is for my two great +girls quarrelling together about whose work 't was to do some little +trifle. I told 'em they should be knit in, big as they are, if they +couldn't behave and be accommodating. That bright red stripe is for +Hannah Jane's school report, all perfect. That blue stripe is for your +sister Georgianna when she made a sheet. It matches her eyes as near as +I could get the yarn. My blue dye is weak this fall. Indigo is high. +Your uncle J. says it's on account of the Rebs feeling so blue. That +gray stripe, dotted with yellow, means a funny crying spell Tommy had at +table. I came home, and there he sat in his high chair, with his two +hands on the arms of it, his mouth wide open, eyes shut, and the tears +streaming down, making the dolefullest noise,--"O-oh, a-ah; o-oh, a-ah." +Lucy Maria said he'd been going on in that strain almost half an hour, +because we didn't have mince-meat for supper. That green stripe is for +the day we all took the hay-cart and went to ride in the woods. The +orange-colored one is for the box of oranges your uncle J. fetched home. +"A waste of money," says I. "Please the children," says he; "and the +peel will save spice." Makes me laugh when your uncle J. sets out to +save. My girls and Tommy have got the very best of fathers, only they +don't realize it. But young folks can't realize. The pale rose-colored +stripe is for the travelling doctor's curing your grandmother's +rheumatics, and promising she never should have another touch of 'em if +she was careful. The dark red stripe is for the red cow's getting choked +to death with a turnip. She was a prime butter cow. Any man but your +uncle J. would look sober for a month about it. But he says, "O, there's +butter enough in the world, Phebe. And the calf will soon be a cow on +its own hook." That's your uncle J. + +The plain dark purple stripe is for my Matilda's speaking +disrespectfully to grandmother. She was sorry enough afterwards, but I +told her it should go in. That bright yellow stripe is for the day your +father went to market and got such a great price for his colt. The +bright fringe, mixed colors, is for us all in both houses, when we got +news of your coming home, and felt so glad. There's a stitch dropped in +one place. That may go for a tear-drop,--a tear of mine, dear, if you +please. Do you think we grown-up women, we jolly, busy women, never shed +tears? O, but we do sometimes, in an out-of-the-way corner, or when the +children are all gone to school, or everybody is in bed. Bitterer tears +they are, Billy, than boys' tears. One more stripe, that plain white one +in the centre, is for the little Tommy that died. I couldn't bear to +leave him out, Billy. He had such little loving ways. You don't remember +him. + +There's your uncle J.'s whistle. He always whistles when he gets to the +bars, to let me know it's time to begin to take up dinner. + +From your loving + +AUNT PHEBE. + + * * * * * + +I will insert here two of Dorry Baker's letters to his sister. When they +were written Dorry and Bubby Short were making William Henry a visit. + +_Dorry to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +Who's been giving you an inch, that you take so many "l's"? Or is father +putting an "L" to his house, or some great "LL. D." been dining there, +or what is the matter, that about every "l" in your letter comes double? +I wouldn't spell "painful" with two "l's" if the pain was ever so bad. +But I know. You are thinking about Billy and the good times we are +having. Aunt Phebe says you might have come too, just as well as not; +for her family is so big, three or four more don't make a mite of +difference. + +We got here last night. Billy's grandmother's a brick. She took Billy +right in her arms, and I do believe she cried for being glad, behind her +spectacles. His sister is full as pretty as you. Billy brought her a +round comb. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's as fat as butter. He sat and +sucked his thumb and stared, till Billy held out a whistle to him, and +then he walked up and took it, as sober as a judge. + +"And I've brought you something, Grandmother," says Billy. + +He went out and brought in a bandbox tied up. I wondered, coming in the +cars, what he had got tied up in that bandbox. He out with his +jack-knife, and cut the strings, and took out--have you guessed yet? Of +course you haven't,--took out a new cap like grandma's. He stuck his +fist in it, and turned it round and round, to let her see it. + +"Now sit down," says he, "and we'll try it on." + +She wouldn't, but he made her. + +"Come here, Dorry," says he, "and see which is the front side of this." + +When her old cap was pulled off, there was her gray hair all soft and +crinkly. He got the cap part way on. + +"You tip it down too much," says I. + +"We'll turn it round," says he. + +"'T is upside down," said Billy's father. + +"Now 't is one-sided," says Uncle J., "like the colt's blinders." + +"'T was never meant for my head," says Grandmother. + +"Send for Phebe," says Uncle J. + +[Illustration] + +But "Phebe" was coming. There was a great chattering outside, and the +door opened, and in came Aunt Phebe, laughing, and her three great girls +laughing too, with their red cheeks, and their great braids of hair tied +up in red bow-knots of ribbon. And they all went to kissing Billy. + +And then says Aunt Phebe, "What in the world are you doing to your +grandmother? A regular milliner's cap, if I breathe! Well done, +Grandmother! Here, let me give it a twist. It's hind side before. What +do boys know? or men either? What are all these kinds of strings for?" + +"The great ones to hang down, and the little ones to tie up," says +Billy. + +The girls stood by to pick the bows apart, and fuzz up the ruffles where +they were smashed in; and Billy's father and Uncle Jacob, they sat and +laughed. + +Grandmother couldn't help herself, but she kept saying, "Now, Phebe! +now, girls! now, Billy!" + +"And now, grandmother!" says Aunt Phebe. "There! fold your hands +together. Don't lean back hard, 't will jam easy. Now see, girls! Isn't +she a beauty?" And, Maggie, I do believe she's the prettiest grandmother +there is going. Her face is just as round and smiling! + +"Now sit still, Grandmother," said Aunt Phebe. And she winked to the +girls, and they whisked two tables up together, spread on the cloth, set +on the dishes; then out into the entry, and brought in great loaves of +plum-cake, and pies and doughnuts, and set out the table,--all done +while you'd be tying your shoe. Then they set a row of lights along the +middle, and we all sat round,--Grandmother at the head, and Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy in his high chair; and I'll tell you what, if these +are poor mince-pies, I hope I shall never see any good ones. + +"Why didn't you have some fried eggs?" said Uncle Jacob. + +"Now did anybody ever hear the like?" said Aunt Phebe. "Fried eggs! when +they're shedding their feathers, and it takes seventy-six fowls to lay a +dozen, and every egg is worth its weight in currency! Better ask why we +don't have cranberry sauce!" + +"There!" says Uncle J. "I declare, if I didn't forget that errand, after +all!" + +"When I told you to keep saying over 'Cranberries, cranberries,' all the +way going along!" says Aunt Phebe. + +"They would 'a' set my teeth on edge before I got to Ne'miah's corner," +said Uncle J. "The very thoughts of 'em is enough. Lucy Maria, please to +pass that frosted cake. I declare, I'm sorry I forgot that errand." + +For all we were so hungry, there was a great deal left, and I was glad +to see it going into Billy's buttery. Billy says it's just like his aunt +Phebe to come to supper, and make that an excuse to bring enough to last +a week, to save Grandmother steps. + +I do like to stay where folks are jolly. They keep me a-laughing; and as +for Bubby Short, his little black eyes have settled themselves into a +twinkle, and there they stay. I never had such a good time in my life. + +From your same old brother, + +DORRY. + +P. S. We have got good times enough planned out to last a month. Uncle +J. says we may have his old horse, and Young Gray, and Dobbin, and the +cow too, if we want, to ride horseback on, or tackle up into anything we +can find, from a hay-cart to a wheelbarrow. I shall want to write, but +sha' n't. There'll be no time. When I get home, I'll talk a week. + +Love to all inquiring friends. + + * * * * * + +Maggie could have formed but little idea of the nature of the offer +mentioned in Dorry's postscript, because she had never, at that time, +stood on the spot and seen with her own eyes all the "wheel-ed things" +that were to be seen in Uncle Jacob's back-yard. + +How gladly would I, if space permitted, go into a minute description of +that roomy enclosure, with its farming implements, garden tools, cattle, +pump, fowls, watering-trough, grindstone, woodpile, haystack, etc., and +carryalls, carts, wagons, wheelbarrows, roller-carts, and tip-carts, +some in good repair, others very far out of it! "Entertainment for man +and beast" might truly have been written over the entrance! + +Mother Delight (an old nurse-woman) once remarked of Uncle Jacob, that +he was a very _buying man_. This was a true remark, and yet he never +bought without a reason. For instance, if Quorm (a Corry Pond Indian) +brought bushel-baskets along to sell, Uncle Jacob took one, not because +he had not bushel-baskets enough, but to encourage Quorm. And if Old +Pete Brale wanted to let Uncle Jacob have an infirm, rickety wagon, and +take his pay in potatoes, Uncle Jacob traded, that Pete Brale might be +kept from starvation. And so of other things. + +It may be imagined, therefore, that as time went on all manner of +vehicles were there gathered together. Some of these were in good +running order, while others had been bought partly with a view to their +being repaired and sold at a profit. The expression on Aunt Phebe's face +when Uncle Jacob brought home an addition to his interesting collection +was very striking. I remember particularly observing this at the coming +into harbor of a rattling, shackly, green-bottomed carryall, which had a +door at the back, and seats running lengthwise. It formerly belonged to +some person who, having then a large family of small children to get to +meeting, contrived a conveyance which would take in and discharge again +the greatest number with the least trouble. + +In this odd vehicle, which had been run under an overhanging apple-tree, +I often sat through the summer afternoon, now reading my book, now +watching the animal life about me, gaining useful knowledge from both. +Sometimes, when feeling like a boy again,--as I often did and do +feel,--I would amuse myself with playing _go to ride_ in a comical old +chaise. It was set high, and pitched forward, the lining was ragged, the +back "light" gone, the stuffing running out of the cushions; yet there I +liked to sit, and "ride," and joggle up and down, as in the happy days +of boyhood. But not, as in those happy days, "hard as I could," for +reasons easy to guess. + +I trust no one will imagine that spacious yard to have been merely a +sort of safe anchorage, where all manner of disabled craft might run in +for shelter! Lest any words of mine should imply this, or seem to cast +blame on Uncle Jacob, let me hasten to say that he really required a +variety of "wheel-ed things" to carry on his business. + +Neither of the Mr. Carvers got their living wholly, or even chiefly, by +farming. They drew wood from lots owned by themselves, or by others, and +used their teams in any way, according as employment was offered them. +Thus heavy carts were wanted for heavy work, and light carts for light +work, besides carryalls for dry and for rainy weather, and riding +wagons, because they were handy. + +For all the Summer Sweeting folks were hard workers, they knew how to +get up a good time, and enjoyed it too, as we shall see by the account +of one which Dorry gives in the following letter:-- + + * * * * * + +_Dorry to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +O, we've hurrahed and hurrahed and hurrahed ourselves hoarse! Such a +bully time! You'd better believe the old horses went some! And that +hay-cart went rattle and bump, rattle and thump,--seemed as if we should +jolt to pieces! But I've counted myself all over, and believe I'm all +here! Bubby Short's throat is so sore that all he can do is to lie flat +on the floor and wink his eyes. You see we cheered at every house, and +they came running to their windows, and some cheered back again, and +some waved and some laughed, and all of them stared. But part of the way +was through the woods. + +This morning Billy and Bubby Short and I went over to Aunt Phebe's of an +errand, to borrow a cup of dough. I wish mother could see how her stove +shines! And while we were sitting down there, having some fun with Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy, Uncle Jacob came in and said, "Mother, let's go +somewhere." + +She said, "Thank you! thank you! we shall be very happy to accept your +invitation. Girls, your father has given us an invitation! Boys, he +means you too!" + +"But you can't go,--can you?" Uncle Jacob cried out, and made believe he +didn't know what to make of it. O, he's such a droll man! "I thought +you couldn't leave the ironing," says he. + +"O yes, we can!" Hannah Jane said; and "O yes, we can!" they all cried +out. + +Aunt Phebe said it would be entirely convenient, and told her girls to +shake out the sprinkled clothes to dry. + +"O, now," said Uncle Jacob, "who'd have thought of your saying 'yes.' I +expected you couldn't leave." + +Then they kept on talking and laughing. O, they are all so funny here! +Uncle Jacob tried to get off without going; but at last he said, "Well, +boys, we must catch Old Major." + +That's the old gray horse, you know. And we were long enough about it. +For, just as we got him into a corner, he'd up heels, and away he'd go. +And once he slapped his tail right in my face. But after a while we got +him into the barn. + +Then pretty soon Uncle Jacob put on a long face, and looked very sober, +and put his head in at the back kitchen door, and said he guessed we +should have to give up going, after all, for the mate to Old Major had +got to be shod, and the blacksmith had gone away. + +"Harness in the colt, then," Aunt Phebe said. "No matter about their +matching, if we only get there!" + +That colt is about twenty years old. He's black, and short, and takes +little stubby steps; and he's got a shaggy mane, that goes flop, flop, +flop every step he takes. But Old Major is bony, and has a long neck, +like the nose of a tunnel. Such a span as they made! What would my +mother say to see that span! + +They were harnessed in to the hay-cart. A hay-cart is a long cart that +has stakes stuck in all round it. We put boards across for benches. Aunt +Phebe brought out a whole armful of quite small flags, that they had +Independent Day, and we tied one to the end of every stake. + +Such a jolly time as we did have getting aboard! First all the baskets +and pails full of cake and pies were stowed away under the benches, and +jugs of water, and bottles of milk, and a hatchet, and some boiled eggs, +and apples and pears. Then uncle called out, "Come! where is everybody? +Tumble in! tumble in! Where's little Tommy?" + +Then we began to look about and to call "Tommy!" "Tommy!" "Tommy!" At +last Bubby Short said, "There he is, up there!" We all looked up, and +saw Tommy's face part way through a broken square of glass--I mean where +the glass was broken out. He said he couldn't "tum down, betause the +_roosted_ was on his feets." You see, he'd got his feet tangled up in +Lucy Maria's worsteds. + +"O dear!" Lucy Maria said; "all that shaded pink!" + +When they brought him down, Uncle Jacob looked very sober, and said, +"Why, Tommy! Did you get into all that shaded pink?" + +"Didn't get in _all_ of it," said Tommy. Then he told us he was taking +down the "gimmerlut to blower a hole with." Next he began to cry for his +new hat; and when he got his new hat, he began to cry for a posy to be +stuck in it. That little fellow never will go anywhere without a flower +stuck in his hat. Aunt Phebe says his grandmother began that notion +when her damask rosebush was in bloom. + +After we were all aboard, Uncle Jacob brought out the teakettle, and +slung it on behind with a rope. He said maybe mother would want a cup of +tea. Then they laughed at him, for he is the tea-drinker himself. Next +he brought out a long pan. + +"Now that's my cookie-pan!" Aunt Phebe said. "You don't cook clams in my +cookie-pan!" + +He made believe he was terribly afraid of Aunt Phebe, and trotted back +with it just like a little boy, and then came bringing out an old +sheet-iron fireboard. + +"Is this anybody's cookie-pan?" said he, then stowed it away in the +bottom of the cart. Bubby Short wanted to know what that was for. + +"That's for the clams," Uncle Jacob said. + +But we couldn't tell whether he meant so. We never can tell whether +Uncle Jacob is funning or not. I haven't told you yet where we were +bound. We were bound to the shore. That's about six miles off. The last +thing that Uncle Jacob brought out was a stick that had strips of paper +tied to the end of it. + +"That's my flyflapper!" Aunt Phebe said. "What are you going to do with +my flyflapper?" + +He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy's face. Tommy is a +tip-top little chap; but he's apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to +drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and +then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he +fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the +snarls off his face, and say, "There they go! Pick 'em up! pick 'em +up!" And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the +back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and +they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But +first he stood on his head, for 't was quite a sandy place. I drove part +of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn't hurrah any going. Some men +that we met would laugh and call out, "What'll you take for your span?" +And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, "How are +_you_, teakettle?" I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that +ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw +Billy's father coming, bringing Billy's grandmother in a horse and +chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn't +come. + +When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for +there wasn't a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to +us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I +carried the bucket. Isn't it funny that clams live in the mud? How do +you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle +Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the +mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon +got the bucket full. + +Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up +sticks and bits of boards. "Bring them where you see a smoke rising," +says he. + +O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet! +Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in a good way, and put his iron +fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams +on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of +anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard! + +And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the +teakettle, and made a fire under it,--to make a cup of tea for mother, +he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the +teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side +where the wind wouldn't blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy's +grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions, +and shawls all over her, and Billy's father read things out of the +newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn't +work. + +It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter +the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed +round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to +have shingles. You'd better believe those clams tasted good! Then all +the other things were passed round. O, I don't believe any other woman +can make things as good as Aunt Phebe's! Georgianna had a frosted +plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle +Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked +Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,--a great deal +better than Aunt Phebe's girls. Then Georgianna would say, "O, I know +you! you want my frosted cake!" Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips +together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps +every body a-laughing, even Billy's grandmother. He was just as clever +to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,--Aunt Phebe +don't carry her good dishes, they get broken so,--and shocked out the +clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you'll get +a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. 'T was fun +to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little +pools of water. And I found lots of _blanc-mange_ moss. We boys ran ever +so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn't very cold. + +When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart +pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand, +and blew it off on the water. Billy said, "Now the fishes can have a +pocket-handkerchief." And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been +in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got 'em sopping wet. +Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the +shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave +us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle +Jacob hadn't any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his +arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the +boat clapped. + +O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and +rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped +squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live +fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I +suppose you don't believe that! But it's true, for I've seen them. In +the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don't go to work and +build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees, +and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to +go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny, +something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And +every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a +real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my +squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got +quite close up,--near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to +run! + +Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a +house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to +their windows to look, for there isn't much travelling on that road. O, +I'm so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I'm sorry we've got home, I +wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over +at Aunt Phebe's. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us +to come over. Bubby Short's jumped up. He says his throat feels better +now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, +sis. This letter is from your + +BROTHER DORRY. + + + * * * * * + +I remember what they were clapping about. It happened that I came out +from the city that day. The weather was so fine, I felt as if I must +take one more look at the country, before winter came and spoiled every +bright leaf and flower. I think the flowers and leaves seem very +precious in the fall, when we know frost is waiting to kill them. + +It was quite a disappointment to find the people all gone, and I was +glad enough when at last the old hay-cart came rattling down the lane. +Such a jolly set as they were! I jumped them out at the back of the +cart. + +That little Tommy was always such a funny chap. Just like his father for +all the world. When the girls took their things off, he got himself into +an old sack, and then tied on one of his mother's checked aprons, and +began to parade round. When Lucy Maria saw him she took him up stairs +and put more things on him, and dressed him up for Mother Goose. I don't +know when I've seen anything so droll. They put skirts on him, till they +made him look like a little fat old woman. He had a black silk +handkerchief pinned over his shoulders, and a ruffle round his neck, and +an old-fashioned, high-crowned nightcap on. Then spectacles. They put a +peaked piece of dough on the end of his nose, to make it look like a +hooked nose, and then set him down in the arm-chair. He kept sober as a +judge. Bubby Short laughed till he tumbled down and rolled himself +across the floor. Lucy Maria sent us out of the room to see something in +the yard, and when we came back, there was a little old man with his hat +on, and a cane, sitting opposite Mother Goose. He was made of a +stuffed-out overcoat, trousers with sticks of wood in them, and boots. +"That is Father Goose," Lucy Maria said. Then Bubby Short had to tumble +down again; and this time he rolled way through the entry, out on the +doorstep! + +Then came such a pleasant evening! Aunt Phebe said 't was a pity for +Grandmother to go to getting supper, they might as well all come over. +Where anybody had to boil the teakettle and set the table, half a dozen +more or less didn't matter much. + +So we all ate supper together, and it seemed to me I never did get into +such a jolly set! Uncle Jacob and Aunt Phebe were so funny that we could +hardly eat. And in the evening--But 't is no use. If I begin to tell, +and tell all I want to, there won't be any room left for the letters. + + +Now comes quite a gap in the correspondence. There must have been many +letters written about this time, which were, unfortunately not +preserved. The next in order I find to be a short epistle from Bubby +Short, written, it would seem, soon after the winter holidays. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from Bubby Short._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +My mother is all the one that I ever wrote a letter to before. So excuse +poor writing, and this pen isn't a very good pen to write with I bet. I +am very sorry that you can't come back quite yet. I hope that it won't +be a fever that you are going to have. Does your grandma think that 't +is going to be a fever? Do you take bitter medicine? I never had a +fever. I take little pills every time I have anything. My mother likes +little pills best now. But she used to make me take bitter stuff. Once +she put it in my mouth and I wouldn't swallow it down. Then she pinched +my nose together and it made me swallow it down. Once I ate up all the +little pills out of the bottle, and she was very scared about it. It +wasn't very full. But the doctor said that it wouldn't hurt me any if I +did eat them. How many presents did you have? I had five. Dorry he says +he hopes that it won't be a slow fever that you are going to have if you +do have any fever, for he wants you to hurry and come back. Some new +fellows have come. One is a tip-top one. And one good "pitcher." I hope +you will come back very soon, 'cause I like you very much. + +Do you know who 't is writing? I am that one all you fellers call + +BUBBY SHORT. + + * * * * * + +As may be gathered from the foregoing letter, William Henry did not go +back to school with the rest. He was taken ill just at the close of +vacation, and remained at home until spring. Grandmother said it was +such a comfort that it didn't happen away. And it seemed to me that this +thought really made her enjoy his being sick at home. + +Indeed, the people at Summer Sweeting place seemed ready to get +enjoyment from everything, even from gruel, which is usually considered +flat. I passed a day there at a time when William Henry was subsisting +on this very simple but wholesome food. Aunt Phebe and Uncle Jacob came +in to take tea at grandmother's. The old lady was bringing out her nice +things to set on the table, when Aunt Phebe said suddenly, I suppose +seeing a hungry look in Billy's eyes. She said,-- + +"Now, Grandmother, I wouldn't bring those out. Let's have a gruel +supper, and all fare alike! We'll make it in different ways,--milk +porridge, oatmeal, corn-starch,--and I think 't will be a pleasant +change." + +"Gruel is very nourishing, well made," said Grandmother; "but what will +Mr. Fry say?" + +"Mr. Fry will say," I answered, "that milk porridge, with Boston +crackers, is a dish fit for a king." + +"I'm afraid Jacob won't think he's been to supper," said Grandmother. + +"O yes," said Uncle Jacob, "I'll think I have at any rate. But I like +mine the way the man in the moon did his, or part of the way." + +"Yes," said Aunt Phebe, "I understand! The last part--the 'plum' part!" + +"O, don't all eat gruel for me," said Billy. "Course I sha' n't be a +baby, and cry for things!" + +But Aunt Phebe seemed resolved to develop the gruel idea to its utmost. +She made all kinds,--Indian meal, oatmeal, corn-starch, flour, mixed +meals, wheat; made it sweetened, and spiced with plums, and plain. One +kind, that she called "thickened milk," was delicious. "Course" we had +one cup of tea, and bread and butter, and I can truly say that I have +eaten many a worse supper than a "gruel supper." + +Here is a letter from William Henry to Dorry, written when he began to +get well:-- + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter to Dorry._ + +DEAR DORRY,-- + +I'm just as hungry as anything, now, about all the time. My grandmother +says she's so glad to see me eat again; and so am I glad to eat myself. +Things taste better than they did before. Maybe I shall come back to +school again pretty soon, my father says; but my grandmother guesses not +very, because she thinks I should have a relapse if I did. A relapse is +to get sick when you're getting well; and, if I should get sick again, O +what should I do! for I want to go out-doors. If they'd only let me go +out, I'd saw wood all day, or anything. There isn't much fun in being +sick, I tell you, Dorry; but getting well, O, that's the thing! I tell +you getting well's jolly! I have very good things sent to me about every +day, and when I want to make molasses candy my grandmother says yes +every time, if she isn't frying anything in the spider herself; and then +I wait and whistle to my sister's canary-bird, or else look out the +window. But she tells me to stand a yard back, because she says cold +comes in the window-cracks: and my uncle Jacob he took the yardstick one +day, and measured a yard, and put a chalk mark there, where my toes +must come to, he said. If I hold the yardstick a foot and a half up from +the floor, my sister's kitty can jump over it tip-top. My sister has +made a Red-Riding-Hood cloak for her kitty, and a muff to put her fore +paws in, and takes her out. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Yesterday Uncle Jacob came into the house and said he had brought a +carriage to carry me over to Aunt Phebe's; and when I looked out it +wasn't anything but a wheelbarrow. My grandmother said I must wrap up, +for 't was the first time; so she put two overcoats on me, and my +father's long stockings over my shoes and stockings, and a good many +comforters, and then a great shawl over my head so I needn't breathe the +air; and 't was about as bad as to stay in. Uncle Jacob asked her if +there was a Billy in that bundle, when he saw it. "Hallo, in there!" +says he. "Hallo, out there!" says I. Then he took me up in his arms, and +carried me out, and doubled me up, and put me down in the wheelbarrow, +and threw the buffalo over me; but one leg got undoubled, and fell out, +so I had to drag my foot most all the way. Aunt Phebe undid me, and set +me close to the fire; and Lucy Maria and the rest of them brought me +story-books and picture-papers; and Tommy, he kept round me all the +time, making me whittle him out little boats out of a shingle, and we +had some fun sailing 'em in a milk-pan. Aunt Phebe had chicken broth for +dinner, and I had a very good appetite. She let me look into all her +closets and boxes, and let me open all her drawers. But I had to have a +little white blanket pinned on when I went round, because she was afraid +her room wasn't kept so warm as my grandmother's. Soon as Uncle Jacob +came in and saw that little white blanket he began to laugh. "So Aunt +Phebe has got out the _signal of distress_," says he. He calls that +blanket the "signal of distress," because when any of them don't feel +well, or have the toothache or anything, she puts it on them. She says +he shall have to wear it some time, and I guess he'll look funny, he's +so tall, with it on. The fellers played base-ball close to Aunt Phebe's +garden. I tell you I shall be glad enough to get out-doors. I tell you +it isn't much fun to look out the window and see 'em play ball. But +Uncle Jacob says if the ball hit me 't would knock me over now. Aunt +Phebe was just as clever, and let me whittle right on the floor, and +didn't care a mite. And we made corn-balls. But the best fun was finding +things, when I was rummaging. I found some pictures in an old trunk that +she said I might have, and I want you to give them to Bubby Short to put +in the Panorama he said he was going to make. He said the price to see +it would be two cents. They are true ones, for they are about Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy. One day, when he was a good deal smaller feller +than he is now, he went out when it had done raining one day, and the +wind blew hard, and he found an old umbrella, and did just what is in +the pictures. The school-teacher that boarded there, O, she could draw +cows and pigs and anything; and she drew these pictures, and wrote about +them underneath. + +I wish you would write me a letter, and tell Benjie to and Bubby Short. + +From your affectionate friend, + + WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. What are you fellers playing now? + + * * * * * + +Thinking the school-teacher's pictures might please other little Tommys, +I have taken some pains to procure them for insertion here. Little +"fellers" usually are fond of carrying umbrellas,--large size preferred. +Nothing suited Tommy better than marching off to school of a rainy day +with one up full spread, provided he could hold it. His cousin Myra once +took an old umbrella and cut it down into a small one, by chopping off +the ends of the sticks, supposing he would be delighted with it. But no, +he wanted a "_man's one_." + + +TOMMY ON HIS TRAVELS. + +Tommy sets forth upon his travels around the house, taking with him his +whip. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +At the first corner he picks up an umbrella. A larger boy opens the +umbrella, and shows him the way to hold it. Being an old umbrella, it +shuts down again. But Tommy still keeps on in his way. + +[Illustration] + +At the second corner a gust of wind takes down the umbrella, and blows +his capes over his head. He pushes on, however, whip in hand, dragging +the umbrella behind him. + +[Illustration] + +On turning the third corner a hen runs between his legs, and throws him +down in the mud. + +He is taken inside, stripped and washed, and left sitting upon the floor +in his knit shirt, waiting for clean clothes. He can reach the handle of +the molasses-jug. He does reach the handle, and tips over the jug. His +mother finds him eating molasses off the floor with his forefinger. +Tommy looks up with a sweet smile. + +[Illustration] + +Here we have William Henry back at school again. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +[Illustration] + +I've been here three days now. I came safe all the way, but that glass +vial you put that medicine into, down in the corner of the trunk, broke, +and some white stockings down there, they soaked it all up; but I sha' +n't have to take it now, and no matter, I guess, for I feel well, all +but my legs feeling weak so I can't run hardly any. When I got here, the +boys were playing ball; but they all ran to shake hands, and slapped my +shoulders so they almost slapped me down, and hollered out, "How are +you, Billy?" "How fares ye?" "Welcome back!" "Got well?" "Good for you, +Billy!" Gus Beals--he's the great tall one we call "Mr. Augustus"--he +called out, "How are you, red-top?" And then Dorry called out to him, +"How are you, hay-pole?" Dorry and Bubby Short want me to tell you to +thank Aunt Phebe for their doughnuts, and you, too, for that molasses +candy. The candy got soft, and the paper jammed itself all into the +candy, but Bubby Short says he loves paper when it has molasses candy +all over it. I gave some of the things to Benjie. Something hurt me all +the way coming, in the toe of my boot; and when I got here I looked, and +'t was a five-cent piece right in the toe! I know who 't was! 'T was +Uncle Jacob when he made believe look to see if that boot-top wasn't +made of mighty poor leather. I went to spend it yesterday, down to the +Two Betseys' shop. Lame Betsey called me a poor little dear, and was +just going to kiss me, but I twisted my face round. I'm too big for all +that now, I guess. She looked for something to give me, and was just +going to give me a stick of candy; but the other Betsey said 't was no +use to give little boys candy, for they'd only swallow it right down, so +she gave me a row of pins, for she said pins were proper handy things +when your buttons ripped off. Just when I was coming back from the Two +Betseys' shop I met Gapper Skyblue. He goes about selling cakes now. A +good many boys were round him, in a hurry to buy first, and all you +could hear was, "Here, Gapper!" + +[Illustration] + +"This way, Gapper!" "You know me, Gapper!" "Me, me, me!" One boy--he's a +new boy--spoke up loud and said, "Mr. Skyblue, please attend to me, if +you please, for I have five pennies to spend!" He came from Jersey. The +fellers call him "Old Wonder Boy," because he brags and tells such big +stories. But now, just as soon as he begins to tell, Dorry begins too, +and always tells the biggest,--makes them up, you know. O, I tell you, +Dorry gives it to him good! You'd die a laughing to hear Dorry, and so +do all the fellers. W. B.,--that's what we call Old Wonder Boy +sometimes,--W stands for Wonder, and B stands for Boy,--he says cents +are not cents; says they are pennies, for the Jersey folks call them +pennies, and he guesses they know. He says he gets his double handful of +pennies to spend every day down in Jersey. But Bubby Short says he knows +that's a whopper, for he knows there wouldn't anybody's mother give them +their double handful of pennies to spend every day, nor cents either, +nor their father either. And then Dorry told Old Wonder Boy that he +supposed it took his double handful of pennies to buy a roll of lozenges +down in Jersey. Then W. B. said that our lozenges were all flour and +water, but down in Jersey they were clear sugar, and just as plenty as +huckleberries. Dorry said he didn't believe any huckleberries grew out +there, or if they did, they'd be nothing but red ones, for the ground +was red out in Jersey. But W. B. said no matter if the ground was red, +the huckleberries were just as black as Yankee huckleberries, and +blacker too, and three times bigger, and ten times thicker. Said he +picked twenty quarts one day. + +Dorry said, "Poh, that wasn't much of a pick!" Says he, "Now I'll tell +you a huckleberry story that's worth something." Then all the boys began +to hit elbows, for they knew Dorry would make up some funny thing. Says +he: "I went a huckleberrying once to Wakonok Swamp, and I carried a +fourteen-quart tin pail, and a great covered basket, besides a good many +quart and pint things. You'd better believe they hung thick in that +swamp! I found a thick spot, and I slung my fourteen-quart tin pail +round my waist, and picked with both hands, and ate off the bushes with +my mouth all the while. I got all my things full without stirring two +yards from the spot, and then I didn't know what to do. But I'll tell +you what I did. I took off my jacket, and cut my fishing-line, and tied +up the bottom ends of my jacket sleeves and picked them both full. And +then I didn't know what to do next. But I'll tell you what I did. I took +off my overalls, and tied up the bottoms of their legs, and picked them +so full you wouldn't know but there was a boy standing up in 'em!" Then +the boys all clapped. + +"Well," Old Wonder Boy said, "how did you get them home?" + +"O, got them home easy enough," Dorry said. "First I put the overalls +over my shoulders, like a boy going pussy-back. I slung all the quart +and pint things round my waist, and hung the covered basket on one arm, +and took the fourteen-quart tin pail in that same hand. Then I tied my +jacket to the end of my fishing-pole, and held it up straight in my +other hand like--like a flag in a dead calm!" + +O, you ought to 've seen the boys,--how they winked at one another and +puffed out their cheeks; and some of 'em rolled over and over down hill +to keep from laughing! Bubby Short got behind the fence, and put his +face between two bars, and called out, "S--e--double l!" But Dorry says +they don't know what a "s--e--double l" is down in Jersey. But I don't +believe that W. B. believes Dorry's stories; for I looked him in the +face, and he had a mighty sly look when he asked Dorry how it was he got +his huckleberries home. + +To-day they got a talking about potatoes. Old Wonder Boy said that down +in Jersey they grow so big you have to pry 'em up out of the hill, and +it don't take much more than two to make a peck. Dorry told him that +down in Maine you could stand on top the potato-hills and look all round +the country, they were so high; and he asked W. B. how they planted 'em +in Jersey, with their eyes up or down? He said he didn't know which way +they did turn their eyes. Then Dorry told him the Yankees always planted +potatoes eyes up, so they could see which way to grow. Said he planted a +hill of potatoes in his father's garden, last summer, with their eyes +all down, and waited and waited, but they didn't come up. And when he +had waited a spell longer, he raked off the top of that hill of +potatoes, and all he saw was some roots sticking up. And he began to dig +down. And he kept digging. Followed their stems. But he never got to the +potato-tops; and says he, "I never did get to those potato-tops!" O, you +ought to 've heard the boys! + +Old Wonder Boy wanted to know where Dorry thought they'd gone to. Dorry +thought to himself a minute, and looked just as sober, and then says he, +just like a school-teacher, "The earth, in the middle, is afire. I think +when they got deep enough to feel the warm, they guessed 't was the sun, +and so kept heading that way." + +Is the world afire in the middle? Dorry told me that part of his story +was really true. How Uncle Jacob would laugh to sit down and hear Dorry +and Old Wonder Boy tell about whales. W. B. calls 'em wales. His uncle +is a ship-captain, he says, and once he saw a wale, and the wale was +making for his ship, and it chased 'em. And, no matter how they steered, +that wale would chase. And by and by, in a calm day, he got under the +vessel and boosted her up out of water, when all the crew gave a +yell,--such a horrid yell that the wale let 'em down so sudden that the +waves splashed up to the tops of the masts, and they thought they were +all drowned. + +"O, poh!" Dorry cried out. "My uncle was a regular whaler, and went a +whaling for his living. And once he was cruising about the +whaling-grounds and 't was in a place where the days were so short that +the nights lasted almost all day. And they got chased by a whale. And he +kept chasing them. Night and day. And there came up a gale of wind that +lasted three days and nights; and the ship went like lightning, night +and day, the whale after them. And, when the wind went down, the whale +was so tuckered that he couldn't swim a stroke. So he floated. Then the +cap'n sang out to 'em to lower a boat. And they did. And the cap'n got +in and took a couple of his men to row him. The whale was rather longer +than a liberty-pole. About as long as a liberty-pole and a half. He was +asleep, and they steered for the tail end. A whale's head is about as +big as the Two Betseys' shop, and 't is filled with clear oil, without +any trying out. The cap'n landed on the whale's tail, and went along up +on tiptoe, and the men rowed the boat alongside, and kept even with him; +and, when he got towards her ears, he took off his shoes, and threw 'em +to the men to catch. After a while he got to the tip-top of her head. +Now I'll tell you what he had in his hand. He had a great junk of cable +as big round as the trunk of a tree, and not quite a yard long. In one +end of it there was a point of a harpoon stuck in, and the other end of +it was lighted. He told the men to stand ready. Then he took hold of the +cable with both hands, and with one mighty blow he stuck that pointed +end deep in the whale's head, and then gave one jump into the boat, and +he cried out to the men, 'Row! row for your lives! To the tail end! If +you want to live, row!' And before that whale could turn round they were +safe aboard the ship! But now I'll tell you the best part of the whole +story. They didn't have any more long dark nights after that. They kept +throwing over bait to keep her chasing, and the great lamp blazed, and +as fast as the oil got hot it tried out more blubber, and that whale +burned as long as there was a bit of the inside of him left. Flared up, +and lighted up the sea, and drew the fishes, and they drew more whales; +and they got deep loaded, and might have loaded twenty more ships. And +when they left they took a couple in tow,--of whales,--and knocked out +their teeth for ivory, and then sold their carcasses to an empty +whaler." + +Dorry says some parts of this story are true. But he didn't say which +parts. Said I must look in the whale-book and find out. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I wish you would please to send me a silver three-cent piece or +five-cent. Two squaws have got a tent a little ways off, and the boys +are going to have their fortunes taken. But you have to cross the +squaws' hands with silver. + +W. H. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +_Georgianna's Letter to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER BILLY,-- + +O Billy, my pretty, darling little bird is dead! My kitty did it, and O, +I don't know what I shall do, for I love my kitty if she did kill my +birdie; but I don't forget about it, and I keep thinking of my birdie +every time my kitty comes in the room. I was putting some seeds in the +glass, and my birdie looked so cunning; and I held a lump of white +sugar in my lips, and let him peck it. And while I was thinking what a +dear little bird he was, I forgot he could fly out; but he could, for +the door was open, and he flew to the window. I didn't think anything +about kitty. It flew up to that bracket you made, and then it went away +up in the corner just as high as it could, on a wooden peg that was +there. I didn't know what made it flutter its wings and tremble so, but +grandmother pointed her finger down to the corner, on the floor, and +there was my kitty stretching out and looking up at my bird. And that +was what made poor birdie tremble so. And it dropped right down. Before +we could run across to catch kitty, he dropped right down into her +mouth. I never thought she could get him. I didn't know what made +grandmother hurry. I didn't know that kitties could charm birds, but +they do. She didn't have him a minute in her teeth, and I thought it +couldn't be dead. But, O Billy, my dear birdie never breathed again! I +warmed him in my hands, and tried to make him stir his wings, but he +never breathed again. Now the tears are coming again. I thought I wasn't +going to cry any more. But they come themselves; when I don't know it, +they come; and O, it was such a good birdie! When I came home from +school I used to run to the cage, and he would sing to meet me. And I +put chickweed over his cage. + +Grandmother has put away that empty cage now. She's sorry, too. Did you +think a grandmother would be sorry about a little bird as that? But +she'd rather give a good deal. When she put the plates on the table, and +rattled spoons, he used to sing louder and louder. And in the morning +he used to wake me up, singing away so loud! Now, when I first wake up, +I listen. But O, it is so still now! Then in a minute I remember all +about it. Sometimes kitty jumps up on the bed, and puts her nose close +down, and purrs. But I say, "No, kitty. Get down. You killed little +birdie. I don't want to see you." But she don't know what I mean. She +rubs her head on my face, and purrs loud, and wants me to stroke her +back, and don't seem as if she had been bad. She used to be such a dear +little kitty. And so she is. She's pretty as a pigeon. Aunt Phebe says +she never saw such a pretty little gray and white kitty as she is. I was +going to have her drowned. But then I should cry for kitty too. Then I +should think how she looked all drowned, down at the bottom, just the +same way I do now how my birdie looked when it couldn't stir its little +wings, and its eyes couldn't move. My father says that kitty didn't know +any better. I hope so. I took off that pretty chain she had round her +neck. But grandmother thinks I had better put it on again. Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy says, "Don't kye, Dordie, I'll _bung_ dat tat. I'll take a +tick and _bung_ dat tat!" He calls me Dordie, I guess I rather have +kitty alive than let her be drowned, don't you? Grandmother wants you +not to catch cold and be sick. + +From your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANNA. + +P. S. Grandmother showed me how to write this letter. + + * * * * * + +A caged bird is never a very interesting object to me. But this little +canary of Georgie's was really a beautiful creature, and very +intelligent. They used to think that he listened for her step at noon +and night; for no sooner was it heard in the entry than he peeped out +with his little bright eyes, and tuned up, and sang away, as if to say, +"Glad! glad! glad you've come! glad you've come!" + +Then she would go to the cage and talk to him, and let him take sugar +from her mouth, and would hang fresh chickweed about its cage. Mornings +she used to sing, from her bed, and the bird would answer. Indeed, he +really seemed quite a companion for her. + +At the time the accident happened I had been staying for a few weeks at +the hotel, a mile or two off, and called at the farm that very day. Lucy +Maria told me, as I stopped at their door, what the kitten had done, and +how Georgianna had cried and mourned and could not be comforted. + +I found her sitting on the doorstep. She had placed the bird in a small +round basket, lined with cotton-wool, and was bending over, and stroking +it. I had always noticed the bird a great deal, used to play with it, +and whistle to make it sing louder and louder. The sight of me brought +all this back to her mind, and she burst into tears again, sobbing out, +"O, he never--will sing--any more! Dear little birdie! He had to fall +down! He couldn't--help it!" + +I talked with her awhile, in a cheerful way, and when she had become +quite calm I held out my hand and said, "Come, Georgie, don't you want +to go with me and find a pretty place where we can put birdie away, +under the soft grass? And we will plant a flower there." + +The idea of the soft grass and the flower seemed to please her. She took +my hand, and we went to look about. + +We thought the garden not a very good place, because it was dug up every +year, and the field would be mowed and trampled upon. But just over the +fence, back of the garden, we came upon some uneven ground, where the +old summer-sweeting trees grew. In one place there was a sudden pitch +downwards, into a little hollow, which grass and plantain leaves made +almost forever green. For here was what they called the Boiling Spring. +The water bubbled out of the ground on the slope of the bank, and in +former times, before the well was dug, had been used in the family. +Several trees grew about there,--wild cherry, damson, and poplar,--and a +profusion of yellow flowers, wild ones. Some of these grandmother called +"Ladies' Slipper"; the others, "Sullendine." The spring had once been +stoned up and boxed over. But the boards were now rotting away, the +stones falling in, and our little hollow had quite a deserted look. The +water trickled out and ran away around the curve of the bank. + +Grandmother came with us, and Georgie's teacher, and Matilda and Tommy. +We hollowed out a little place under the wild-cherry tree, wrapped the +birdie in cotton-wool, lay him in, and covered him over with the green +sod. I then went down by the stone wall, where sweetbriers were growing, +dug up a very pretty little one, and set it out close by, so that it +might lean against the cherry-tree. Tommy kept very sober, and scarcely +spoke a word, till it was all over. He then said to me, in a very +earnest tone, "Mr. Fwy, now will another birdie grow up there?" I +suppose he was thinking of his father's planting corn and more corn +growing. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister._ + +MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER,-- + +I'm sorry your little birdie's dead! He was a nice singing birdie! But I +wouldn't cry. Maybe you'll have another one some time, if you're a good +little girl. Maybe father'll go to Boston and buy you one, or maybe +Cousin Joe will send one home to you, in a vessel, or maybe I'll catch +one, or maybe a man will come along with birds to sell, or maybe Aunt +Phebe's bird will lay an egg and hatch one out. I wouldn't feel bad +about it. It isn't any use to feel bad about it. Maybe, if he hadn't +been killed, he'd 'a' died. Dorry says, "Tell her, 'Don't you cry,' and +I'll give her something, catch her a rabbit or a squirrel!" Says he'll +tease his sister for her white mice. Says he'll tease her with the tears +in his eyes,--or else her banties. + +How do you like your teacher? Do you learn any lessons at school? You +must try to get up above all the other ones. We've got two new teachers +this year. One is clever, and we like that one, but the other one isn't +very. We call the good one Wedding Cake, and we call the other one Brown +Bread. Did grandmother tell you about the Fortune Tellers? We went +to-day and she told mine true. She said my father was a very kind man, +and said I was quick to get mad, and said I had just got something I'd +wanted a long time (watch, you know), and said I should have something +else that I wanted, but didn't say when. I wonder how she knew I wanted +a gun. I thought perhaps somebody told her, and laid it to Old Wonder +Boy, for we two had been talking about guns. But he flared up just like +a flash of powder. "There. Now you needn't blame that on to me!" says +he. "You fellers always do blame everything on to me!" Sometimes when +somebody touches him he hollers out, "Leave me loose! Leave me loose!" +Dorry says that's the way fellers talk down in Jersey. The Fortune +Teller told W. B. that he came from a long way off, and that he wanted +to be a soldier, but he'd better give up that, for he wouldn't dare to +go to war, without he went behind to sell pies. All of us laughed to +hear that, for Old Wonder Boy is quick to get scared. But he is always +straightening himself up, and looking big, and talking about his native +land, and what he would do for his native land, and how he would fight +for his native land, and how he would die for his native land. He says +that why she told him that kind of a fortune was because he gave her +pennies and not silver money. His uncle that goes cap'n of a vessel has +sent him a letter, and in the letter it said that he had a sailor aboard +his ship that used to come to this school. + +[Illustration] + +I was going to tell you a funny story about W. B.'s getting scared, but +Dorry he keeps teasing me to go somewhere. I made these joggly letters +when he tickled my ears with his paint-brush. Has your pullet begun to +lay yet? I hope my rooster won't be killed. Tell them not to. Benjie +says he had a grand great rooster. It was white and had green and purple +tail feathers, O, very long tail feathers, and stood 'most as high as a +barrel of flour, with great yellow legs, and had a beautiful crow, and +could drive away every other one that showed his head, and he set his +eyes by that rooster, but when he got home they had killed him for +broth, and when he asked 'em where his rooster was they brought out the +wish-bone and two tail feathers, and that was all there was left of him. +I wouldn't have poor little kitty drowned way down in the deep water +'cause to drown a kitty couldn't make a birdie alive again. Have your +flowers bloomed out yet? You must be a good little girl, and try to +please your grandmother all you can. + +From your affectionate brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Now Dorry's run to head off a loose horse, and I'll tell you about +Old Wonder Boy's getting scared. It was one night when--Now there comes +Dorry back again! But next time I will. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister, about Old Wonder Boy's Fright._ + +MY DEAR SISTER,-- + +I will put that little story I am going to tell you right at the +beginning, before Dorry and Bubby Short get back. I mean about W. B.'s +getting scared. But don't you be scared, for after all 't was--no, I +mean after all 't wasn't--but wait and you'll know by and by, when I +tell you. 'T was one night when Dorry and I and some more fellers were a +sitting here together, and we all of us heard some thick boots coming-a +hurrying up the stairs, and the door came a banging open, and W. B. +pitched in, just as pale as a sheet, and couldn't but just breathe. And +he tried to speak, but couldn't, only one word at once, and catching his +breath between, just so,--"Shut--the--door!--Do!--Do!--shut--the door!" +Then we shut up the door, and Bubby Short stood his back up against it +because 't wouldn't quite latch, and now I will tell you what it was +that scared him. Not at the first of it, but I shall tell it just the +same way we found it out. + +Says he, "I was making a box, and when I got it done 't was dark, but I +went to carry the carpenter's tools back to him, because I promised to. +And going along," says he, "I thought I heard a funny noise behind me, +but I didn't think very much about it, but I heard it again, and I +looked over my shoulder, and I saw something white behind me, a chasing +me. I went faster, and then that went faster. Then I went slower, and +then that went slower. And then I got scared and ran as fast as I could, +and looked over my shoulder and 't was keeping up. But it didn't run +with feet, nor with legs, for then I shouldn't 'a' been scared. But it +came--O, I don't know how it came, without anything to go on." + +Dorry asked him, "How did it look?" + +"O,--white. All over white," says W. B. + +"How big was it?" Bubby Short asked him. + +"O,--I don't know," says W. B. "First it looked about as big as a +pigeon, but every time I looked round it seemed to grow bigger and +bigger." + +"Maybe 't was a pigeon," says Dorry. "Did it have any wings?" + +"Not a wing," says W. B. + +"Maybe 't was a white cat," says Mr. Augustus. + +"O, poh, cat!" says W. B. + +"Or a poodle dog," says Benjie. + +"Nonsense, poodle dog!" says W. B. + +"Or a rabbit," says Bubby Short. + +"O, go 'way with your rabbit!" says W. B. "Didn't I tell you it hadn't +any feet or legs to go with?" + +"Then how could it go?" Mr. Augustus asked him. + +"That's the very thing," said W. B. + +"Snakes do," says Bubby Short. + +"But a snake wouldn't look white," says Benjie. + +"Without 't was scared," says Dorry. + +I said I guessed I knew. Like enough 't was a ghost of something. + +I said like enough of a robin or some kind of bird. + +"Of what?" then they all asked me. + +"That he'd stolen the eggs of," says Dorry. + +"O yes!" says Old Wonder Boy. "It's easy enough to laugh, in the light +here, but I guess you'd 'a' been scared, seeing something chasing you in +the dark, and going up and down, and going tick, tick, tick, every time +it touched ground, and sometimes it touched my side too." + +"For goodness gracious!" says Dorry. "Can't you tell what it seemed most +like?" + +"I tell you it didn't seem most like anything. It didn't run, nor walk, +nor fly, nor creep, nor glide along. And when I got to the Great +Elm-Tree, I cut round that tree, and ran this way, and that did too." + +"Where is it now?" Dorry asked him. + +"O, don't!" says W. B. "Don't open the door. 'T is out there." + +"Come, fellers," Dorry said, "let's go find it." + +Benjie said, "Let's take something to hit it with!" And he took an +umbrella and I took the bootjack, and Bubby Short took the towel horse, +and Mr. Augustus took a hair-brush, and Dorry took his boot with his arm +run down in it, and first we opened the door a crack and didn't go out, +but peeped out, but didn't see anything there. Then we went out a +little ways, and then we didn't see anything. And pretty soon, going +along towards the stairs, Bubby Short stepped on something. "What's +that?" says he. And he jumped, and we all flung our things at it. "Hold +the light!" Dorry cried out. + +[Illustration] + +Then W. B. brought out the light, and there wasn't anything there but a +carpenter's reel, with a chalk line wound up on it, and they picked it +up and began to wind up, and when they came to the end of it--where do +you s'pose the other end was? In W. B.'s pocket! and his ball and some +more things held it fast there, and that chalk-line reel was what went +bobbing up and down behind Old Wonder Boy every step he took,--bob, bob, +bobbing up and down, for there was a hitch in the line and it couldn't +unwind any more, and the line under the door was why 't wouldn't latch, +and O, but you ought to 've heard the fellers how they roared! and Bubby +Short rolled over on the floor, and Dorry he tumbled heels over head on +all the beds, and we all shouted and hurrahed so the other fellers came +running to see what was up, and then the teachers came to see who was +flinging things round so up here, and to see what was the matter, but +there couldn't anybody tell what the matter was for laughing, and W. B. +he looked so sheepish! O, if it wasn't gay! How do you like this story? +That part where it touched his side was when that reel caught on +something and so jerked the string some. Now I must study my lesson. + +Your affectionate brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. When you send a box don't send very many clothes in it, but send +goodies. I tell you things taste good when a feller's away from his +folks. Dorry's father had a picture taken of Dorry's little dog and sent +it to him, and it looks just as natural as some boys. Tell Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy he may sail my boat once. 'T is put away up garret in that +corner where I keep things, side of that great long-handled thing, +grandmother's warming-pan. I mean that little sloop boat I had when I's +a little feller. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +_Georgianna's Letter to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER BILLY,---- + +Kitty isn't drowned. I've got ever so many new dolls. My grandmother +went to town, not the same day my kitty did that, but the next day, and +she brought me home a new doll, and that same day she went there my +father went to Boston, and he brought me home a very big one,----no, not +very, but quite big,----and Aunt Phebe went a visiting to somebody's +house that very day, and she brought me home a doll, and while she was +gone away Hannah Jane dressed over one of Matilda's old ones new, and +none of the folks knew that the others were going to give me a doll, and +then Uncle J. said that if it was the family custom to give Georgianna a +doll, he would give Georgianna a doll, and he went to the field and +catched the colt, and tackled him up into the riding wagon on purpose, +and then he started off to town, and when he rode up to our back door +there was a great dolly, the biggest one I had, and she was sitting down +on the seat, just like a live one. And she had a waterfall, and she had +things to take off and on. Then Uncle J. asked me what I should do with +my old dollies that were 'most worn out. And I said I didn't know what I +should. And then Uncle J. said that he would take the lot, for +twenty-five cents a head, to put up in his garden, for scarecrows, and +he asked me if I would sell, and I said I would. And he put the little +ones on little poles and the big ones on tall poles, with their arms +stretched out, and the one with a long veil looked the funniest, and so +did the one dressed up like a sailor boy, but one arm was broke off of +him, and a good many of their noses too. The one that had on old woman's +clothes Uncle J. put a pipe in her mouth. And the one that had a pink +gauze dress, but 't is all faded out now, and a long train, but the +train was torn very much, that one has a great bunch of +flowers----paper----pinned on to her, and another in her hand, and the +puppy he barks at 'em like everything. My pullet lays, little ones, you +know. I hope she won't do like Lucy Maria's Leghorn hen. That one flies +into the bedroom window every morning, and lays eggs on the bedroom bed. +For maybe 't would come in before I got up. My class has begun to learn +geography, and my father has bought me a new geography. But I guess I +sha' n't like to learn it very much if the backside is hard as the +foreside is. Uncle J. says no need to worry your mind any about that old +fowl, for he's so tough he couldn't be killed. I wish you would tell me +how long he could live if it wasn't killed, for Uncle J. says they grow +tougher every year, and if you should let one live too long, then he +can't die. But I guess he's funning, do you? Our hens scratched and +scratched up some of my flowers, and so did the rain wash some up that +night it came down so hard, but one pretty one bloomed out this morning, +but it has budded back again now. Aunt Phebe says she sends her love to +you, tied up with this pretty piece of blue ribbon. She says, if you +want to, you can take the ribbon and wear it for a neck bow. Grandmother +says how do you know but that sailor that went to your school in Old +Wonder Boy's uncle's vessel is that big boy, that bad one that ran away, +you called Tom Cush? + +Father laughs to hear about Old Wonder Boy, and he says a bragger ought +to be laughed at, and bragging is a bad thing. But he don't want you to +pick out all the bad things about a boy to send home in your letters; +says next time you must send home a good thing about him, because he +thinks every boy you see has some good things as well as some bad +things. + +A dear little baby has moved in the house next to our house. It lets me +hold her, and its mother lets me drag her out. It's got little bits of +toes, and it's got a little bit of a nose, and it says "Da da! da da! da +da!" And when I was dragging her out, the wheel went over a poor little +butterfly, but I guess it was dead before. O, its wings were just as +soft! and 't was a yellow one. And I buried it up in the ground close to +where I buried up my little birdie, side of the spring. + +Your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANNA. + + * * * * * + +Among the other letters I find the following, from Tom Cush. As the +people at Summer Sweeting place had been told the circumstances of his +running away, it was not only proper, but just, that William Henry +should send them this letter. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from Tom Cush to Dorry._ + +DEAR FRIEND,---- + +I have not seen you for a great while. I hope you are in good health. +Does William Henry go to school there now? And does Benjie go, and +little Bubby Short? I hope they are in good health. Do the Two Betseys +keep shop there now? Is Gapper Skyblue alive now? I am in very good +health. I go to sea now. That's where I went when I went away from +school. I suppose all the boys hate me, don't they? But I don't blame +them any for hating me. I should think they would all of them hate me. +For I didn't act very well when I went to that school. Our captain knows +about that school, for he is uncle to a boy that has begun to go. He's +sent a letter to him. I wish that boy would write a letter to him, +because he might tell about the ones I know. + +I've been making up my mind about telling you something. I've been +thinking about it, and thinking about it. I don't like to tell things +very well. But I am going to tell this to you. It isn't anything to +tell. I mean it isn't like news, or anything happening to anybody. But +it is something about when I was sick. For I had a fit of sickness. I +don't mean afterwards, when I was so very sick, but at the first +beginning of it. + +The captain he took some books out of his chest and said I might have +them to read if I wanted to. And I read about a man in one of them, and +the king wanted him to do something that the man thought wasn't right to +do; but the man said he would not do what was wrong. And for that he was +sent to row in a very large boat among all kinds of bad man, thieves and +murderers and the worst kind. They had to row every minute, and were +chained to their oars, and above their waists they had no clothes on. +They had overseers with long whips. The officers stayed on deck over the +rowers' heads, and when they wanted the vessel to go faster, the +overseers made their long whip-lashes cut into the men's backs till they +were all raw and bleeding. Nights the chains were not taken off, and +they slept all piled up on each other. Sometimes when the officers were +in a hurry, or when there were soldiers aboard, going to fight the +enemy's vessels, then the men wouldn't have even a minute to eat, and +were almost starved to death, and got so weak they would fall over, but +then they were whipped again. And when they got to the enemy's ships, +they had to sit and have cannons fired in among them. Then the dead ones +were picked up and thrown into the water. And the king told the man that +if he wanted to be free, and have plenty to eat and a nice house, and +good clothes to wear, all he had to do was to promise to do that wrong +thing. But the man said no. For to be chained there would only hurt his +body. But to do wrong would hurt his soul. + +And I read about some people that lived many hundred years ago and the +emperor of that country wanted these people to say that their religion +was wrong and his religion was the right one. But they said, "No. We +believe ours is true, and we cannot lie." Then the emperor took away all +their property, and pierced them with red-hot irons, and threw some into +a place where they kept wild beasts. But they still kept saying, "We +cannot lie, we must speak what we believe." And one was a boy only +fifteen years old. And the emperor thought he was so young they could +scare him very easy. And he said to him, "Now say you believe the way I +want you to, or I will have you shut up in a dark dungeon." But the boy +said, "I will not say what is false." And he was shut up in a dark +dungeon, underground. And one day the emperor said to him, "Say you +believe the way I want you to, or I will have you stretched upon a +rack." But the boy said, "I will not speak falsely." And he was +stretched upon a rack till his bones were almost pulled apart. Then the +emperor asked, "Now will you believe that my religion is right?" But the +boy could not say so. And the emperor said, "Then you'll be burned +alive!" The boy said, "I can suffer the burning, but I cannot lie." Then +he was brought out and the wood was piled up round him, and set on fire, +and the boy was burned up with the wood. And while he was burning up he +thanked God for having strength enough to suffer and not lie. + +Dorry, I want to tell you how much I've been thinking about that man and +that boy ever since. And I want to ask you to do something. I've been +thinking about how mean I was, and what I did there so as not to get +punished. And I want you to go see my mother and tell her that I'm +_ashamed_. Don't make any promises to my mother, but only just tell, +"_Tom's ashamed_." That's all. I don't want to make promises. But I know +myself just what I mean to do. But I sha' n't talk about that any. Give +my regards to all inquiring friends. + +Your affectionate friend, + +TOM. + +P.S. Can't you tell things about me to William Henry and the others, for +it is very hard to me to write a letter? Write soon. + +T. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Carver's visit to the Crooked Pond School alluded to in the +following letter was quite an event for my Summer Sweeting friends, and +caused an extra amount of cooking to be done in both families. Boys +don't half appreciate the blessing of not being too old to have goodies +sent them. Now goodies taste good to me, very good, but I haven't a +friend in the world who would think of boiling up a kettleful of +molasses into candy, or of making a waiterful of seed-cakes to send me. +_Too old_, they say,--in actions, if not in words. How cruelly we are +misjudged sometimes, and by those who ought to know us best! I shall +never be too old to receive a box like that of William Henry's, never, +never!--unless my whole constitution is altered and several _clauses_ +taken out of it. + +I remember of seeing that waiter of "good seed-cakes" on grandmother's +best room table, between the front windows, waiting to be packed in Mr. +Carver's valise. Mr. Carver's black silk neck-handkerchief, tall hat, +clean dickies, stockings, two red and white silk pocket-handkerchiefs, +and various other articles were distributed over the adjacent chairs, +and his umbrella, in a brown cambric covering, stood near by. I have the +impression that most of these things were ironed over, five or six +times, as grandmother felt that apparel going away from home could not +be too much ironed. Besides, it seemed to her impossible that such an +event as Billy's father setting out on his travels should take place +without extra exertions in some quarter. + +Mr. Carver had other business which took him from home, but as "going to +see Billy" was thought _enough to tell Mrs. Paulina_, why, it is enough +for me to tell. "Mrs. Paulina" was an elderly woman, the wife of Mr. +John Slade, one of the neighbors, and she was called "Mrs. Paulina," to +distinguish her from several other Mrs. Slades. + +Mrs. Paulina had her own opinion as to how money and time should be +spent,--everybody's money and time. She was one of the prying sort, and +had wonderful skill in ferreting out all the whys and wherefores of her +neighbor's proceedings. It was a common thing at the Farm to say, when +undertaking some new scheme, "Well, how much shall we tell Mrs. +Paulina?" It being a matter of course that she would inquire into it. +The girls often amused themselves by giving her _blinding_ answers just +to see how she would contrive to carry her point. I remember their +having great fun doing this, just after William Henry went away to +school. Lucy Maria said 't was just like a conundrum to Mrs. Paulina, a +great mammoth conundrum, and the poor thing must be told about "Old +Uncle Wallace," or she would wear herself out, wondering "how Mr. Carver +could possibly afford the money." + +The "Old Uncle Wallace" thus brought to the rescue of Mrs. Paulina would +probably not have came to her rescue, or to any woman's rescue, had he +been free to choose, seeing that he lived and died a bachelor, and a +stingy bachelor at that! The old miser was a distant uncle,--either +half-uncle, or grand-uncle, or half grand-uncle of the Mr. Carvers, and +lived, that is before he died, in a town some twenty miles off. Billy's +father was named for Uncle Wallace, and when a little boy, lived in the +same neighborhood, and was quite a favorite with him. + +The acquaintance with that distant branch of the family, however, had +not been kept up, in fact I have no recollection of a single member of +it ever coming to the Farm. They were people well to do in the world, +and neither Mr. Carver nor Uncle Jacob were men to "honey round" rich +relations. Certainly they never would have fawned upon the miserly old +fellow, who had the reputation of being mean and tricky as well as +miserly. + +It seems, however, that "Uncle Wallace" did not wholly forget his +namesake, for in his will he left him quite a valuable wood-lot near +Corry's Pond,--some six or eight miles from the Farm,--and a few hundred +dollars besides. + +This occurred not a great while before my first ride out with Uncle +Jacob. Mr. Carver had long felt that Billy was being spoiled at home, +and the Crooked Pond School being recommended at that time as "really +good," and "not too expensive," he resolved that while _feeling rich_ he +would place his son at that institution. And he was more especially +inclined to do so for the reason that an old friend of his lived near +there, and this friend's wife promised to see that the boy did not go +about in actual rags. She is probably the person to whom William Henry +refers in his first letters, as "the woman I go to have my buttons sewed +on to." + +The above circumstances were duly imparted to Mrs. Paulina, yet that +perplexed woman got no relief. True, it was something to know where the +money came from, but "How could a man," she asked, "spend so much money +on eddication, when it might be drawing interest, or put into land?" + +Mrs. Paulina couldn't guess. She gave it up. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,---- + +I suppose my father has got home again by this time. I like to have my +father come to see me. The boys all say my father is a tip-top one. I +guess they like to have a man treat them with so many peanuts and good +seed-cakes. I got back here to-day from Dorry's cousin's party. My +father let me go. I wish my sister could have seen that party. Tell her +when I get there I will tell her all about the little girls, and tell +her how cunning the little ones, as small as she, looked dancing, and +about the good things we had. O, I never saw such good things before! I +didn't know there were such kinds of good things in the world. + +Did my father tell you all about that letter that Tom Cush wrote to +Dorry? Ask him to. Dorry sent that letter right to Tom Cush's mother. +And when Dorry and I were walking along together the next morning after +the party, she was sitting at her window, and as soon as she saw us she +said, "Won't you come in, boys? Do come in!" And looked so glad! And +laughed, and about half cried, after we went in, and it was that same +room where we went before. But it didn't seem so lonesome now, not half. +It looked about as sunshiny as our kitchen does, and they had +flower-vases. I wish I could get some of those pretty seeds for my +sister, for she hasn't got any of that kind of flowers. + +She seemed just as glad to see us! And shook hands and looked so +smiling, and so did Tom's father when he came into the room. He had a +belt in his hand that Tom used to wear when he used to belong to that +Base-ball Club. And when we saw that Dorry said, "Why! has Tom got +back?" Tom's mother said, "O no." But his father said, "O yes! Tom's got +back. He hasn't got back to our house, but he's got back. He hasn't got +back to town, but he's got back. He hasn't got back to his own country, +but he's got back. For I call that getting back," says he, "when a boy +gets back to the right way of feeling." + +Then Tom's mother took that belt and hung it up where it used to be +before, for it had been taken down and put away, because they didn't +want to have it make them think of Tom so much. + +She said when Tom got back in earnest, back to the house, that we two, +Dorry and I, must come there and make a visit, and I hope we shall, for +they've got a pond at the bottom of their garden, and Tom's father owns +a boat, and you mustn't think I should tip over, for I sha' n't, and no +matter if I should, I can swim to shore easy. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + + WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. Bubby Short didn't mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw +hat, and we couldn't get it out even again, and I didn't want him to, +but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man +didn't have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was +dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I +wouldn't let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because +I didn't have quite enough. Don't shopkeepers have the most money of all +kinds of men? Wouldn't you be a shopkeeper when I grow up? It seems +just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled +jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to +send some of W. B.'s good things. He wrote a very good composition about +heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be +sending one of his good things. It's got in it about two dozen kinds of +heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And +Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may +read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads. + +W. H. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +_W. B.'s Composition._ + +HEADS. + +Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of +notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell +just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best +kind. Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won't +stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn't quite so +bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won't be coaxed nor turned, +they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of +fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads +are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of +heads besides our heads. + +First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads +of sermons,--sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one +sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle,--when a farmer reckons +up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, +Drumheads,--drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or +tails,--when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders,--when you let +off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head--like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, +Cabbageheads,--dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. +Eleventh, At Loggerheads,--when you don't agree. Twelfth, Heads of +chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off,--when you want to stop a horse, or a +boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. +Sixteenth, The Masthead,--where they send sailors to punish them. +Seventeenth, get up to the head,--when you spell the word right. +Eighteenth, The Head of a stream,--where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by +the head,--when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a +Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that's the +end of a stick of timber that a ship's anchor hangs by. Twenty-second, +A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A +Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead,--but +first be sure you are right. + + * * * * * + +_Bubby Short's Composition._ + +ON MORNING. + +It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green +fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the +day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get +up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the +morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the +morning, or there's a rainbow, 't will be rainy weather. Fish bite best +in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning. + +Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in +handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been +written during William Henry's second school year. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter about the "Charade."_ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers +had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the +word was--no, I mustn't tell you, because it has to be guessed by +actions, and when you get the paper that I'm going to send you, soon as +I buy a two-cent stamp, then you'll see it all printed out in that +paper. The teacher the fellers call Wedding Cake, because he's such a +good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last +night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and +what things to put on, and everything. You'll see it printed there, but +you must please to send it back, for I promised to return. + +There weren't females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we +all liked to ha' died a laughing, getting ready, but when we +were--there, I 'most told! + +O if you could ha' seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged +clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed +round that cap--just as sober--much as we could do to keep in! I was a +clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece +of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, +like a clerk, and I did. + +Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn't strut, but he struts other +times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh. + +Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and +quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller +and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the +shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they're grown +up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. +And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we +all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a +sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth. + +I wish you all and Aunt Phebe's folks had been there. We had a treat, +and O, if 't wasn't a treat, why, I'll agree to treat myself. Three +kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped +cakes and candy, and _such_ a great floating island in a platter!--Dorry +said 't was a floating continent!--and had red jelly round the platter's +edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he +isn't a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves +if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more +too, I say. + +And so I can't tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly +can, + +Your affectionate grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +Please lend it to Aunt Phebe's folks. + + * * * * * + +CHARADE. (_Carpet._) + +FIRST SYLLABLE. + +_Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter +and take their seats. Placard stuck up, "Beware of Pickpockets," in +capitals._ + +_First._ Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, +lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to +read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look +over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be +going on while the other passengers are entering. + +_Second._ Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out +little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after +putting ticket in his hat-band. + +_Third._ Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella, and +bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty. + +_Fourth._ A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth +and spectacles. + +_Fifth._ Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers. + +_Sixth._ Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, +watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his +seat, using his eyeglass frequently. + +_Seventh._ Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and +sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, +changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to +please it, dancing them up and down before its face. + +_Eighth._ Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits. + +_Ninth._ Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She +minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, +first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans +herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) "All aboard!" + +_Tenth._ In a hurry, Lady that's been a-shopping, leading or pulling +along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and +has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, +a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various +other things). Doll's heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. +Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, +imitating Dandy's polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges her +bonnet-strings, takes off the child's hat, smooths its hair, &c. + +Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down +motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, +whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters. + +Enter Conductor with an immense _badge_ on his hat, or coat. Calls out +"Have your tickets ready!" Then passes along the aisle, and calls out +again, "Tickets!" The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take +them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers +in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. +Conductor, after _nipping_ the tickets, passes out. + +Enter boy with papers, "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" +(Business man buys one.) "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" +(Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, +"Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!" (Noise heard +of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little +hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer +fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking +motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. "Jessup's candy! All flavors! Five +cents a stick!" (Lady buys one for baby.) "Jessup's candy! All flavors! +Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!" (Yankee buys one, offers half to +fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out. + +Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, +others let them lie. (Dandy buys one.) Boy collects them and passes +out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After +playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop +something in it. Exit boy. + +Enter Conductor. "Tickets!" Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) +Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes +out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, +pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall +on a smash-up.) + +SECOND SYLLABLE. + +_LADY in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head +on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter MAGGIE with +tray._ + +_Maggie._ Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. 'T will cheer ye up like! + +_Lady (looking up)._ No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It +is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he's lost! + +_Maggie._ And did ye slape at arl, mum? + +_Lady._ Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude +boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, +or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, +cannot eat. + +_Exit MAGGIE with breakfast things. Enter MIKE with newspapers._ + +_Mike._ Mornin' paper, mum. + +_Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns)._ Let +me see if he is found. O, here! "Found! A diamond pin on--" Pshaw, +diamond pin! Here it is. "Dog found! Black and tan--" Faugh, black and +tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where's the notice of our +darling's being lost? + +_Mike._ Shure, an' it's to the side o' the house I put it, mum, arl writ +in illegant sizey litters, mum. + +_Lady (in alarm)._ And didn't you go to the printers at all? + +_Mike._ Shure an' be n't it better out in the brard daylight, mum, +laning aginst th' 'ouse convanient like, an' aisy to see, mum? + +_Lady._ O Mike, you've undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I +say. + +_Exit MIKE._ + +_Lady (solus)._ It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked +my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my +chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His +little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now? + +_Enter MIKE, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large +letters._ + + Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!! + +_Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger._ + +_Mike._ An' it's meeself larned the fine writin', mum, in th' ould +counthry. + +_Lady (excited)._ Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen +and paper! + +_Exit MIKE, muttering. Knock heard at door._ + +_Lady._ Come! + +_Enter_ MARKET-MAN, _in blue frock_. + +_Market-man._ Good day, ma'am. Heard you'd lost a dog. + +_Lady (eagerly, with hand extended)._ Yes, yes! Where is he? + +_Market-man._ Was he a curly, shaggy dog? + +_Lady._ Yes! O yes! Where did you find him? + +_Market-man._ Was your dog bright and playful? + +_Lady (in an excited manner)._ O, very! very! + +_Market-man._ Answered to the name of Carlo? + +_Lady._ Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms! + +_Market-man (in surprise)._ Arms, ma'am? Arms? 'T is a Newfoundland dog! +He could carry you in his arms! + +_Lady (dejected)._ O cruel, cruel disappointment! + +_Market-man._ What kind of a dog was yours? + +_Lady._ O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk! + +_Market-man (going)._ Good day, ma'am. If I see him, I'll fetch him. + +_Exit MARKET-MAN. MIKE enters with writing materials, and goes out +again. LADY begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud._ + +_Lady._ Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly--(_Tap at door._) Come! + +_Enter stupid-looking BOY, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large +hat._ + +_Lady._ Did you wish to see me? + +_Boy (drawling)._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ About a dog? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ Have you found one? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ Is it a very small dog? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ Sweet and playful? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am? + +_Lady._ Did you bring him with you? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am (_pointing_). Out there. + +_Lady (excited)._ O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If +it should! (BOY _brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted_.) + +_Lady (in disgust)._ O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take +him away! + +_Boy._ Isn't that your dog? + +_Lady._ No! no! O, can't you take the horrid animal away? + +_Boy (going)._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Exit_ BOY _with dog_. LADY _prepares to write_. + +_Lady._ Stupid thing! Now I'll write. (_Repeats._) LOST, STRAYED, OR +STOLEN. A CURLY, WHITE--(_Tap at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._) + +_Enter ragged BOY, with covered basket._ + +_Lady._ Have _you_ found a dog? + +_Boy._ No, I hain't found no dog. + +_Lady._ Then what do you want? + +_Boy._ Father sells puppies. Father said if you'd lost your dog, you'd +want to buy one of 'em. Said you could take your pick out o' these 'ere +five. (_Opens basket for her to look in._) + +_Lady (shuddering)._ Little wretches! Away with them! + +_Boy._ They'll grow, father said, high's the table. + +_Lady._ Carry them off, can't you? + +_Boy._ Father wants to know what you'll take for your dog, running. +Father said he'd give a dollar, an' risk the ketchin' on him. + +_Lady._ Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, +and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry +dollar! + +_Boy (going)._ Good mornin'. Guess I'll be goin'. If I find your dog, I +won't (_aside_) let you know. + +_Exit BOY, with bow and scrape._ + +_Lady (writes again, and repeats)._ LOST, STRAYED, OR STOLEN. A +CUR--(_Knock at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._) + +_Enter MRS. MULLIGAN._ + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ An' is it yourself lost a dog, thin? + +_Lady (eagerly)._ Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen +him? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ Och, no. But't was barkin' all night he was, behint th' +'ouse. An' the b'ys,--that's me Pat an' Tim, they _drooned_ him, mum, +bad luck to 'em, in the mornin' arly. + +_Lady._ And did you see him? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ No, shure. + +_Lady._ And where is he now? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ O, it's safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o' No +Bottom Pond, mum. + +_Lady._ And how do you know 't is my dog? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ Faith, an' whose dog should it be, thin? + +_Lady._ Send your boys, and I'll speak with them. + +_Mrs. Mulligan (going)._ I'll send them, mum. Mornin' mum. + +_Exit MRS. MULLIGAN. Another tap at the door._ + +_Lady._ O, this is not to be borne! Come! + +_Enter COUNTRYWOMAN with bandbox,--not an old woman._ + +_Lady (earnestly)._ If it's about a dog, tell me all you know at once! +Is he living? + +_Countrywoman._ Yes'm, but he's quite poorly. I think dogs shows their +sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin's. + +_Lady._ Do tell quick. + +_Countrywoman._ Just what I want, for I'm in a hurry myself. So I'll +jump right inter the thick on 't. You see last night when my old man was +ridin' out o' town in his cart, with some o' his cabbages left over, for +garden sarse hadn't been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin' +out on account o' the off ox bein' some lame, and my old man ain't apt +to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, +you-- + +_Lady._ But about the dog! + +_Countrywoman._ Wal, the old man was a ridin' along, slow, you know,--I +alwers tell him he'll never set the great pond afire,--and a countin' +over his cabbageheads and settlin' the keg o' molasses amongst 'em, and +a little jug of--(_nods and winks and smiles_),--jest for a medicine, +you know. For we _never do_,--I nor the old man,--never, 'xcept in case +o' sickness. + +_Lady (impatiently)._ But what about the dog? + +_Countrywoman._ Wal, he was a ridin' along, and jest got to the +outskirts o' the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin' +which should have a dog,--a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur-- + +_Lady._ Yes! Go on! Go on! + +_Countrywoman._ And he asked 'em would they take fifty cents apiece and +give it up. For he knew 't would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they +took the fifty. + +_Lady (eagerly)._ And what did he do with him? Where is he now? + +_Countrywoman._ Why, I was goin' to ride in with the old man this +mornin' to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And +we happened to see that 'ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it +out! (_Opening bandbox._) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the +crown o' my bunnet Seems poorly, but he'll pick up. (_Takes out a white +lapdog._)[A] + +[Footnote A: A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.] + +_Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him)._ 'T is my Carlo. O my +precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and +put him to sleep. (_Rises to go out._) + +_Countrywoman._ But the five dollars, marm! + +_Lady._ O, you must call again. I can't think of any paltry five +dollars, now. (_Exit._) + +_Countrywoman (calling out)._ I'll wait, marm! + +_Enter MIKE._ + +_Mike._ An' what bisness are ye doin' here? + +_Countrywoman._ Waiting for my pay. + +_Mike._ Pay, is it? Och, she'll niver pay the day. She's owin' me wages, +an' owin' the cook, and Mrs. Flarty that scoors, and the millinery +lady, an' 't is "Carl agin," she sez. "Carl agin. Can't ye carl agin?" + +_Countrywoman._ Then I'll get mine now. (_Takes off shawl, and sits +down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning +on her knitting-sheath._) I don't budge, without the pay. + +_MIKE looks on admiringly. Curtain drops._ + + +WHOLE WORD. + +_CLERK standing behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to +sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various +placards on the walls,--"No credit." "Goods marked down!" &c. Enter OLD +WOMAN._ + +_Old Woman (speaking in rather high key)._ Do you keep stockings? + +_Clerk (handing box of stockings)._ O yes. Here are some, very good +quality. + +_Old Woman (examining them)._ Mighty thin, them be. + +_Clerk._ I assure you, they are warranted to wear. + +_Old Woman._ To wear out, I guess. + +_Enter YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE._ + +_Clerk._ Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day? + +_Wife (modestly)._ We wish to look at a few of your carpets. + +_Clerk._ This way, ma'am. + +_Husband._ Hem! (_Clearing his throat._) We will look at something for +parlors. + +_Clerk._ Here is a style very much admired. (_Unrolls carpet._) Elegant +pattern. We import all our goods, ma'am. That's a firm piece of goods. +You couldn't do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors. + +_Old Woman (coming near)._ A good rag carpet'll wear out two o' that. + +_Wife (to Husband)._ I think it is a lovely pattern. Don't you like it, +Charley? + +_Husband._ Hem--well, I have seen prettier. But then, 't is just as you +say, dear. + +_Wife._ O no, Charley. 'T is just as you say. I want to please you, +dear. + +_Old Woman (to Clerk)._ Have you got any crash towelling? + +_Husband._ What's the price of this carpet? + +_Clerk._ Three dollars a yard. Here's another style (_unrolls another_) +just brought in. (_Attends to Old Woman._) + +_Husband (speaking to Wife)._ Perhaps we'd better look at the other +articles you wanted. (_They go to another part of the store, examining +articles._) + +_Enter a spare, thin WOMAN, in plain dress and green veil._ + +_Clerk._ Can we sell you anything to-day? + +_Woman._ I was thinking of buying a carpet. + +_Clerk._ Step this way, ma'am. (_Shows them._) We have all styles, +ma'am. + +_Woman._ I want one that will last. (_Examining it._) + +_Clerk (taking hold of it)._ Firm as iron, ma'am. We've sold five +hundred pieces of that goods. If it don't wear, we'll agree to pay back +the money. + +_Woman._ I want one that won't show dirt. + +_Clerk._ Warranted not to show dirt, ma'am. We warrant all our goods. + +_Woman._ Can it be turned? + +_Clerk._ Perfectly well, ma'am. 'Twill turn as long as there's a bit of +it left. + +_Woman._ What do you ask? + +_Clerk._ Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, +but you may have it for three dollars. + +_Woman._ Couldn't you take less? + +_Clerk._ Couldn't take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale. + +_Woman._ I think I'll look further. (_Going._) + +_Clerk._ Well, now seeing it's the last piece, you may have it for two +fifty. + +_Woman._ I wasn't expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (_Going._) + +_Clerk._ Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Say two and a quarter, and take +it. + +_Woman._ I have decided not to go over two dollars. (_Going._) + +_Clerk (crossly)._ Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In +fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five +yards? I'll measure it directly. + +_Old Woman._ Have you got any cotton flannel? + +_Enter FASHIONABLE LADY._ + +_Clerk (all attention, bowing)._ Good morning, madam. Can we sell you +anything to-day? + +_Fashionable Lady._ I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you +anything new? + +_Clerk._ This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. +(_Shows one._) + +_Fashionable Lady._ It must light up well, or it will never suit me. + +_Clerk._ Lights up beautifully, madam. + +_Fashionable Lady._ Is this real tapestry? + +_Clerk._ O, certainly, madam. We shouldn't think of showing you any +other. + +_Fashionable Lady._ What's the price? + +_Clerk._ Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can't offer it for less +than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece. + +_Fashionable Lady._ 'T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, +the price is no objection. + +_Old Woman (coming forward)._ Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get +a strip to lay down afore the fire. (_Speaking to Lady._) Goin' to give +six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag +carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip 'em up inter +narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in +great balls. That's your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all +colors. That's your fillin'. Then hire your carpet wove, and that +carpet'll last. + +_Enter POLICEMAN and a GENTLEMAN._ + +_Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady)._ That is the person. + +_Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder)._ This gentleman, madam, +thinks you have--_borrowed_ a quantity of his lace goods. + +_Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment)._ I? Impossible! +Impossible, sir! + +_Gentleman._ I am sure of it. + +_Policeman._ Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us? + +_Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement._ + + * * * * * + +I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a +sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising +money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don't know which. I never do +know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the +first sounds more melodious. + +They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry's. +Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the +charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby +carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and +he made a great ado turning it. + +At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a +general smash-up. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want +to have my skates here all ready. 'Most all the boys have got all theirs +already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the +sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play +trainer in when I's a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you'll +find 'em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I +are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It's down +cellar. We went to be weighed, and the man said I was built of solid +timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, +and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then +at his weights; he didn't know what to make of it. For I've grown so +much faster that we're almost of a size. + +First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, +and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we +weighed? + +The fellers call us "Dorry & Co." because we keep together so much. When +he goes anywhere he says "Come, Sweet William!" and when I go anywhere I +say "Come, Old Dorrymas!" There's a flower named Sweet William. There +isn't any fish named Dorrymas, but there's one named Gurrymas. We keep +our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of +our traps. His bed is 'most close to mine, and the one that wakes up +first pulls the other one's hair. One boy that comes here is a +funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out. +He isn't a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes +days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He's got great +eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to +laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, +sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something +spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you'll find my skates, and send 'em right +off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden +peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come +together, under my trainer trousers; you'll see the red stripes. + +Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn't +you think 't was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to +kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too. +"Let's get up a good one while we're about it," says he, "that won't +kick right out." Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and +all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took +in peanuts. O, you ought to 've seen that bag of peanuts! Held about +half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told +somebody that when anybody said, "Let's get up something," it wasn't +just the same as to say he'd pay part. But we say 't is. And we talked +about it down to the Two Betseys' shop, and Lame Betsey said 't was mean +doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, "Anybody that won't pay their +part, I don't care _who_ they be." And I've seen him eating taffy three +times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks +sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if +he'd take any, he took some. + +Now Spicey won't do that. We said he might kick, but he don't want to, +not till he gets his quarter. He's going to earn it. If my skates don't +hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's been +fooling with 'em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a +piece of the floor is broke out. You'd better look down that hole. I'm +going to send home my Report next time. I couldn't get perfect every +time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he'd know too much to come to +school. But there's some that do. Not very many. Spicey did four days +running. I could 'a got more perfects, only one time I didn't know how +far to get, and another time I didn't hear what the question was he put +out to me, and another time I didn't stop to think and answered wrong +when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the +rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says +he wishes they'd take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and +so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, +and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put +me out. I shouldn't think visitors would look a feller right in the +face, when he's trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up +as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any +other kind; don't you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I +laughed out loud. I didn't mean to, but I'm easy to laugh. But Dorry he +can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I +was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder +Boy's cheeks, and he couldn't tell who snapped 'em, for Bubby Short +would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B. +jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh +coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I +knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some. + +I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I'm going to +send mine and Dorry's photographs taken together. We both paid half. We +got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. 'T is stopping +here now. Course we didn't expect to look very handsome. But the man +says 't is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make. +Says he tells 'em he has to take what's before him. Dorry says he's sure +we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to +make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to +let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates +soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it. +Remember me to my sister. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an +expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the +frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the +three can give his merry laugh. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BOY,-- + +Your father and all of us were very glad to see that photograph, for it +seemed next thing to seeing you, you dear child. We couldn't bear to +send it away so soon. I kept it on the mantel-piece, with my spectacles +close by, so that when I went past it I could take a look. We sent word +in to your aunt Phebe and in a few minutes little Tommy came running +across and said his "muzzer said he must bwing Billy's Pokerdaff in, +wight off." But I told him to tell his muzzer that Billy's Pokerdaff +must be sent back very soon, and wasn't going out of my sight a minute +while it stayed, and they must come in. And they did. We all think 't is +a very natural picture, only too sober. You ought to try to look smiling +at such times. I wish you'd had somebody to pull down your jacket, and +see to your collar's being even. But Aunt Phebe says 't is a wonder you +look as well as you do, with no woman to fix you. I should know Dorry's +picture anywhere. Uncle Jacob wants to know what you were both so cross +about? Says you look as if you'd go to fighting the minute you got up. + +Little Tommy is tickled enough with that sled, and keeps looking up in +the sky to see when snow is coming down, and drags it about on the bare +ground, if we don't watch him. + +I had almost a good mind to keep the skates at home. Boys are so +venturesome. They always think there's no danger. I said to your father, +"Now if anything should happen to Billy I should wish we'd never sent +them." But he's always afraid I shall make a Miss Nancy of you. Now I +don't want to do that. But there's reason in all things. And a boy +needn't drown himself to keep from being a Miss Nancy. He thinks you've +got sense enough not to skate on thin ice, and says the teachers won't +allow you to skate if the pond isn't safe. But I don't have faith in any +pond being safe. My dear boy, there's danger even if the thermometer is +below zero. There may be spring-holes. Never was a boy got drowned yet +skating, but what thought there was no danger. Do be careful. I know you +would if you only knew how I keep awake nights worrying about you. + +Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew +how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home +a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won't tell the price. They are +high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the +window of one of the grand stores, and thought he'd just step in and buy +them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I'm speaking of +the price. Now Georgie doesn't go to parties, and where the child can +wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to +meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the +broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won't do, because her meeting +dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege +dress to match 'em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he +heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, +he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has +sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at +the bottom he writes, "Company expected to appear in blue boots." So I +dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, and draw my plush +moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob takes her things, and +waits upon her to the table, and they have great fun out of it. + +My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears +cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won't be so cruel as to +laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don't depend +upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head +and his heart. When I was a little girl and went to school in the old +school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the +school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old +gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to +wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a +gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant +smile, that I haven't forgotten yet, though 't was a great many years +ago. After we'd read and spelt, and the writing-books and +ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to +address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every +time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I've +remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way. + +"I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear +them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And +because I love them so well, I don't want there should be anything bad +about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming;--I should be very +sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, +children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. +You can remember three words, can't you?" + +"Yes, sir," we would say. + +"Well, now, how long can you remember them?" he would ask,--"a week?" + +"Yes sir." + +"Two weeks?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"A month?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"A year?" + +"Guess so." + +"All your lives?" + +Then some would say, "Yes, sir," and some would say they guessed not, +and some didn't believe they could, and some knew they couldn't. + +"Well, children," he would say at last, "now I will tell you what the +three words are: Treat--everybody--well. Now what I want you to be +surest to remember is 'everybody.' Everybody is a word that takes in a +great many people, and a great many kinds of people,--takes in the +washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that +come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand +clothes, and the help in the kitchen,--takes in those we don't like and +even the ones that have done us harm. 'Treat--_everybody_--well.' For +you can afford to. A pleasant word don't cost anything to give, and is a +very pleasant thing to take." + +The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he +followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman +that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to +make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn't wear good +clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the +ones best that wore the best clothes. He'd seen children, and grown +folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and +then be ugly and snappish to poor people they'd hired to work for them. +A real lady or gentleman,--he used to end off with this,--"A real lady, +and a real gentleman will--treat--everybody--well." And I will end off +with this too. And don't you ever forget it. For that you may be, my +dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of + +Your loving Grandmother. + +P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, +there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that +picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I +forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. +And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. +And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for +your Report. + + * * * * * + +I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue +boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of +those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of +blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six +little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go +in and buy, and now I haven't one. + +Georgie's boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her +grandmother knit. And I couldn't see any harm in her wearing a red dress +with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for +me, and I'll never turn against them! + +"Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!" + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven't sniffed +my nose up any at Spicey. I'll tell you why. Because I remember when I +first came, and had a red head, and how bad 't was to be plagued all the +time. But I tell you if he isn't a queer-looking chap! Don't talk any, +hardly, but he's great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs +itself. But not out loud. Dorry says 't is a very wide smile. It comes +easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When +you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he +don't know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and +when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he +laughs. Though he don't have very much to give. But he can't say no. All +the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an +apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, "Give me a +taste." "Give me a taste," till 't was every bit tasted away. Then they +tried him on slate-pencils,--his had bully points to them,--and he gave +every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said +'t was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said +they'd done with 'em. Dorry says he's going to ask him for his nose some +day, and then see what he'll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he's +a clever chap. And he won't kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till +he's paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he +said, No, I thank you. "Why not?" Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he +guessed he'd rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and +guess he heard about that feller that wouldn't pay his part, and about +his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the school +about money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever +take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn't mean +what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year's Day, and all that. And +to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He'd heard +of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, +because they knew 't wouldn't be asked for. The feller I told you +about--the one that kicks and don't pay--he owes Gapper Sky Blue for +four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he +knows Gapper won't ask for two cents! Gapper let him have 'em for two +cents, because he'd had 'em a good while and the edges of 'em were some +crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won't say +anything ever, and so he's trying to keep from paying. I guess his left +ear burns sometimes! + +Gapper can't go round now, selling cakes, because he's lame, and has to +go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make +tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, +and sell 'em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if +'t isn't bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up +to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn't there +only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes +ever so far. Bubby Short 'most got run over by a sleigh. He was going +"knee-hacket" and didn't see where he was going to, and went like +lightning right between the horses' legs, and didn't hurt him a bit. + +Last night when the moon shone the teachers let us go out, and they +went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn't have +the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we'd drag it way up to the top, +and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, +and away we'd go. Once it 'most tipped over. O, I never did see anything +scream so loud as girls can when they're scared? I wish 't would be +winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question +we had last was, "Which is the best, Summer or Winter?" And we got so +fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers +to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns +firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter +to take notes, but I don't know as you can read them, he was in such a +hurry. + +"In summer you can fly kites. + +"In winter you can skate. + +"In summer you have longer time to play. + +"In winter you have best fun coasting evenings. + +"In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats. + +"In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings. + +"In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball. + +"In winter you can coast and make snow-forts. + +"In summer you can go a fishing. + +"So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch +on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole +in the ice and set a light to draw 'em, and then take a jobber and job +'em as fast as you're a mind to. + +"In summer you can go take a sail. + +"In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride. + +"In summer you don't freeze to death. + +"In winter you don't get sunstruck. + +"In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing. + +"In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the +icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the +sleigh-bells jingle. + +"In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other +berries. + +"In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and +preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) +and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!" + +(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time. + +"In summer you have Independent Day, and that's the best day there is. +For if it hadn't been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria. + +"In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather's Day and Christmas +and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that's +Washington's Birthday. And if it hadn't been for that we should have to +mind Queen Victoria." + +When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds +to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but +the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how +glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful +things all the year round. Bubby Short says he's sure he's glad, for if +a feller couldn't have fun what would he do? After we got out doors the +summer ones that didn't go over hollered out to the other ones that did, +"Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! 'Fore I'd be Winter killed! Frost +bit! Frost bit! 'Fore I'd be Frost bit!" + +I should like to see my sister's blue boots. I am very careful when I go +a skating. There isn't any spring-hole in our pond. I don't know where +my handkerchiefs go to. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Don't keep awake. I'll look out. Bubby Short's folks write just so +to him. And Dorry's. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be +drowned? + + * * * * * + +The boys must have been much interested in that "Debating Society." When +William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called +upon all to take sides. + + * * * * * + +_Georgiana to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER,-- + +Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe's to eat supper, and had on my light blue +boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over +because 't was snowing, for he said the party couldn't be put off +because they had got all ready. But the party wasn't anybody but me, but +he's all the time funning. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy he had some new +rubber boots, but they didn't get there till after supper, and then 't +was 'most his bedtime. But he got into the boots and walked all round +with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all +over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he +didn't want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots +stay on till he got asleep, and then pull 'em off softly as she could. +Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, +without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed +about his boots, because soon as they pulled 'em a little bit, he +reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then +she pulled 'em off softly and stood 'em up in the corner. I carried my +work with me, and 't was the handkerchief that is going to be put in +this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She +says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but +next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they +made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, +because I was the party, in the best waiter. + +And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped +on,--six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, +and she wouldn't take a mite of care of them. She won't let them get +close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on 'em all the time, +and broke one's leg. She's a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid +they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, +a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the +pigs. When 't was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he +put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put +ashes on the fire first, so they could keep warm all night. And in the +night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought +the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and +tumbled down on to the floor and 'most killed himself so he died +afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the +little pigs all night. For soon as 't was daylight, and before too, +Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with +him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his +bedroom window that he couldn't take a nap. He told me to send to you in +my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and +winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning? + +Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that +killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping +this last one in a warm place, for they don't dare to let it go into the +pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she's +worse than a cannibal. But I don't know what that is. He says they kill +men and eat them alive, but I guess he's funning. She dips a sponge in +milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge. + +Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. +Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs +every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and +waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn't get himself out, and +when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. +Then he cried. Tommy's cut off a piece of his own hair. + +Your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANA. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister._ + +MY DEAR SISTER,-- + +You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky +Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. +You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed +that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long +stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that +was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby +Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I +read about the pigs I tell you if they didn't laugh! And when that +little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the +floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, "Let's play +have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob's question." And we did. +First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to +tell people 't was time to get up and to let everybody know they +themselves were up and stirring about. Said he'd lain awake mornings, +down in Jersey, and listened and heard 'em say just as plain as day. +"I'm up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!" + +Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the +other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they +didn't belong. Said he'd lain awake in the morning and heard 'em say, +just as plain as day, "If you do, I'll give it to you! I'll give it to +you oo oo oo!" + +But a little chap that had come to hear what was going on said 't was +more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he'd +lain awake in the morning and listened and heard 'em say, "Come on if +you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!" + +Then 't was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower +kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale +up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I'd lain awake in the +morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try +to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, "Open your mouth +wide and do as I do! Do as I do!" and then the young ones say, "Can't +quite do so! Can't quite do so!" + +Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what +anybody said, but he'd always understood they were talking about the +weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to +lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and +where there'd been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how +to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks' eggs. + +The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our +lessons, so the Debating Society stopped. + +Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? +The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We +had flags flying, and I tell you if 't wasn't a bully go! We went ten +miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and +they'd up and hurrah, and then we'd hurrah back again. And one lot of +fellers, if they didn't let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted our +driver to stop, and let us give it to 'em good. But he wouldn't do it. +One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn't get it unhitched +again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more +than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had +the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He +lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made +believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm 'em in the hay. +We 'most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, +where there wasn't very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We +all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held 'em in +tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and +then she was so scared she didn't know what to do, but just stood still +to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for +her to stand close up to the drift, and then there'd be room enough. + +[Illustration] + +When I got home I found my bundle and the tin box rolled up in that new +jacket, with all that good jelly in it. Old Wonder Boy peeped in and +says he, "O, there's quite some jelly in there, isn't there?" He says +down in Jersey they make nice quince-jelly out of apple-parings, and +said 't was true, for he'd eaten some. Dorry said he knew that was +common in Ireland, but never knew 't was done in this country. Dorry +says you must keep us posted about the last of the piggies. Keep your +pretty blue boots nice for Brother Billy to see, won't you? Thank you +for hemming that pretty handkerchief. I've counted my handkerchiefs a +good many times, but counting 'em don't make any difference. + +From your affectionate Brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +The course of true love it seems did not always ran smooth with Dorry +and William Henry. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +This is only a short letter that I am going to write to you, because I +don't feel like writing any. But when I don't write then you think I +have the measles, else drowned in the pond, and I'll write a little, but +I feel so sober I don't feel like writing very much. I suppose you will +say,--what are you feeling so sober about? Well, seems if I didn't have +any fun now, for Dorry and I we've got mad at each other. And he don't +hardly speak to me, and I don't to him either; and if he don't want to +be needn't, for I don't mean to be fooling round im, and trying to get +him to, if he don't want to. + +Last night we all went out to coast, and the teachers and a good many +ladies and girls, and we were going to see which was the champion sled. +But something else happened first. The top of the hill was all bare, +and before they all got there some of the fellers were scuffling +together for fun, and Dorry and I we tried to take each other down. +First of it 't was all in fun, but then it got more in earnest, and he +hit me in the face so hard it made me mad, and I hit him and he got mad +too. + +[Illustration] + +Then we began to coast, for the people had all got there. Dorry's and +mine were the two swiftest ones, and we kept near each other, but his +slewed round some, and he said I hit it with my foot he guessed, and +then we had some words, and I don't know what we did both say; but now +we keep away from each other, and it seems so funny I don't know what to +do. The teacher asked me to go over to the stable to-day, for he lost a +bunch of compositions and thought they might have dropped out of his +pocket, when we went to take that sleigh-ride. And I was just going to +say, "Come on, Old Dorrymas!" before I thought. + +But 't is the funniest in the morning. This morning I waked up early, +and he was fast asleep, and I thought, Now you'll catch it, old fellow, +and was just a going to pull his hair; but in a minute I remembered. +Then I dressed myself and thought I would take a walk out. I went just +as softly by his bed and stood still there a minute and set out to give +a little pull, for I don't feel half so mad as I did the first of it, +but was afraid he did. So I went out-doors and looked round. Went as far +as the Two Betseys' Shop and was going by, but The Other Betsey stood at +the door shaking a mat, and called to me, "Billy, where are you going +to?" + +"Only looking round," I said. She told me to come in and warm me, and I +thought I would go in just a minute or two. Lame Betsey was frying +flapjacks in a spider, a little mite of a spider, for breakfast. She +spread butter on one and made me take it to eat in a saucer, and I never +tasted of a better flapjack. There was a cinnamon colored jacket hanging +on the chair-back, and I said, "Why, that's Spicey's jacket!" "Who?" +they cried out both together. Then I called him by his right name, Jim +Mills. He's some relation to them, and his mother isn't well enough to +mend all his clothes, so Lame Betsey does it for nothing. He earns money +to pay for his schooling, and he wants to go to college, and they don't +doubt he will. They said he was the best boy that ever was. His mother +doesn't have anybody but him to do things for her, only his little +sister about the size of my little sister. He makes the fires and cuts +wood and splits kindling, and looks into the buttery to see when the +things are empty, and never waits to be told. When they talked about him +they both talked together, and Lame Betsey let one spiderful burn +forgetting to turn 'em over time enough. + +When I was coming away they said, "Where's Dorry? I thought you two +always kept together." For we did always go to buy things together. Then +I told her a little, but not all about it. + +"O, make up! make up!" they said. "Make up and be friends again!" I'm +willing to make up if he is. But I don't mean to be the first one to +make up. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I guess you'll think 't is funny, getting another letter again from me +so soon, but I'm in a hurry to have my father send me some money to have +my skates mended; ask him if he won't please to send me thirty-three +cents, and we two have made up again and I thought you would like to +know. It had been 'most three days, and we hadn't been anywhere +together, or spoken hardly, and I hadn't looked him in the eye, or he +me. Old Wonder Boy he wanted to keep round me all the time, and have +double-runner together. He knew we two hadn't been such chums as we used +to be, so he came up to me and said, "Billy, I think that Dorry's a mean +sort of a chap, don't you?" + +"No, I don't," I said. "He don't know what 't is to be mean!" For I +wasn't going to have him coming any Jersey over me! + +"O, you needn't be so spunky about it!" says he. + +"I ain't spunky!" says I. + +Then I went into the schoolroom, to study over my Latin Grammar before +school began, and sat down amongst the boys that were all crowding round +the stove. And I was studying away, and didn't mind 'em fooling round +me, for I'd lost one mark day before, and didn't mean to lose any more, +for you know what my father promised me, if my next Report improved +much. And while I was sitting there, studying away, and drying my feet, +for we'd been having darings, and W. B. he stumped me to jump on a place +where 't was cracking, and I went in over tops of boots and wet my feet +sopping wet. And I didn't notice at first, for I wasn't looking round +much, but looking straight down on my Latin Grammar, and didn't notice +that 'most all the boys had gone out. Only about half a dozen left, and +one of 'em was Dorry, and he sat to the right of me, about a yard off, +studying his lesson. Then another boy went out, and then another, and by +and by every one of them was gone, and left us two sitting there. O, we +sat just as still! I kept my head down, and we made believe think of +nothing but just the lesson. First thing I knew he moved, and I looked +up, and there was Dorry looking me right in the eye! And held out his +hand--"How are you, Sweet William?" says he, and laughed some. Then I +clapped my hand on his shoulder, "Old Dorrymas, how are you?" says I. +And so you see we got over it then, right away. + +Dorry says he wasn't asleep that morning, when I stood there, only +making believe. Said he wished I'd pull, then he was going to pull too, +and wouldn't that been a funny way to make up, pulling hair? He's had a +letter from Tom Cush and he's got home, but is going away again, for he +means to be a regular sailor and get to be captain of a great ship. He's +coming here next week. I hope you won't forget that thirty-three. I'd +just as lives have fifty, and that would come better in the letter, +don't you believe it would? That photograph saloon has just gone by, and +the boys are running down to the road to chase it. When Dorry and I sat +there by the stove, it made me remember what Uncle Jacob said about our +picture. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +The reason that I've kept so long without writing is because I've had to +do so many things. We've been speaking dialogues and coasting and daring +and snowballing, and then we've had to review and review and review, +because 't is the last of the term, and he says he believes in reviews +more than the first time we get it. I tell you, the ones that didn't get +them the first time are bad off now. I wish now I'd begun at the first +of it and got every one of mine perfect, then I should have easier +times. The coast is wearing off some, and we carry water up and pour on +it, and let it freeze, and throw snow on. Now 't is moonshiny nights, +the teacher lets all the "perfects" go out to coast an hour. Sometimes I +get out. And guess where Bubby Short and Dorry and I are going to-night! +Now you can't guess, I know you can't. To a party! Now where do you +suppose the party is to be? You can't guess that either. In this town. +And not very far from this school-house. Somebody you've heard of. Two +somebodies you've heard of. Now don't you know? The Two Betseys! Suppose +you'll think 't is funny for them to have a party. But they're not a +going to have it themselves. Now I'll tell you, and not make you guess +any more. + +You know I told you Tom Cush was coming. He came to-day. He's grown just +as tall and as fat and as black and has some small whiskers. I didn't +know 'twas Tom Cush when I first looked at him. Bubby Short asked me +what man that was talking with Dorry, and I said I didn't know, but +afterwards we found out. He didn't know me either. Says I'm a staving +great fellow. He gave Dorry a ruler made of twelve different kinds of +wood, some light, some dark, brought from famous places. And gave Bubby +Short and me a four-blader, white handled. He's got a fur cap and fur +gloves, and is 'most as tall as Uncle Jacob. He told Dorry that he +thought if he didn't come back here and see everybody, he should feel +like a sneak all the rest of his life. + +We three went down to The Two Betseys' Shop with him, and when he saw +it, he said, "Why, is that the same old shop? It don't look much bigger +than a hen-house!" Says he could put about a thousand like it into one +big church he saw away. Said he shouldn't dare to climb up into the +apple-tree for fear he should break it down. Said he'd seen trees high +as a liberty-pole. And when he saw where he used to creep through the +rails he couldn't believe he ever did go through such a little place, +and tried to, but couldn't do it. So he took a run and jumped over, and +we after him, all but Bubby Short. We took down the top one for him. + +[Illustration] + +The Two Betseys didn't know him at first, not till we told them. Dorry +said, "Here's a little boy wants to buy a stick of candy." Then Tom +said he guessed he'd take the whole bottle full. And he took out a +silver half a dollar, and threw it down, but wouldn't take any change +back, and then treated us all, and a lot of little chaps that stood +there staring. Lame Betsey said, "Wal, I never!" and The Other Betsey +said, "Now did you ever? Now who'd believe 't was the same boy!" And Tom +said he hoped 't wasn't exactly, for he didn't think much of that Tom +Cush that used to be round here. Coming back he told us he was going to +stay till in the evening, and have a supper at the Two Betseys', us four +together, but not let them know till we got there. He's going to carry +the things. We went to see Gapper Sky Blue, and Tom bought every bit of +his molasses candy, and about all the seed-cakes. When I write another +letter, then you'll know about the party. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Do you think my father would let me go to sea? + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +We had it and they didn't know anything about it till we got there, and +then they didn't know what we came for. Guess who was there besides us +four! Gapper Sky Blue and little Rosy. Tom invited them. We left the +bundles inside and walked in. Not to the shop, but to the room back, +where they stay. They told us, "Do sit up to the fire, for 't is a +proper cold day." They'd got their tea a warming in a little round +tea-pot, a black one, and their dishes on a little round table, pulled +up close to Lame Betsey; seemed just like my sister, when she has +company, playing supper. The Other Betsey, she was holding a skein of +yarn for Lame Betsey to wind, and said their yarn-winders were come +apart. Dorry said, "Billy, let's you and I make some yarn-winders!" Now +what do you think we made them out of? Out of ourselves! We stood back +to back, with our elbows touching our sides, and our arms sticking out, +and our thumbs sticking up. Then Dorry told her to put on her yarn, and +we turned ourselves round, like yarn-winders. + +Pretty soon Gapper Sky Blue and Rosy came. Then we brought in the +bundles and let 'em know what was up, and they didn't know what to say. +All they could say was, "Wal, I never!" and "Now did you ever?" + +The Other Betsey said if they were having a party they must smart +themselves up some. So she got out their other caps, with white ruffles, +and put on her handkerchief with a bunch of flowers in the back corner, +but put a black silk cape on Lame Betsey that had a muslin ruffle round +it, or lace, or I don't know what, and a clean collar, that she worked +herself, when she was a young lady, and a bow of ribbon, that she used +to wear to parties, wide ribbon, striped, green and yellow, or pink, I +can't tell, and both of 'em clean aprons, figured aprons,--calico, I +think like enough,--with the creases all in 'em, and strings tied in +front. I tell you if the Two Betseys didn't look tiptop! Then they unset +that little round table, and we dragged out the great big one, that +hadn't been used for seventeen years. The Other Betsey's grandfather had +it, when he was first married. When 't isn't a table, 't is tipped up to +make into a chair, and had more legs than a spider. Little Rosy helped +set the table. She never went to a party before. + +O, but you ought to 've seen the plates! You know your pie-plates? Well, +these were just like them. All white, with scalloped edges, blue +scalloped edges. Only no bigger round than the top of your tin dipper. +The knives and forks--two-prongers--had green handles. And the +sugar-bowl and cream pitcher were dark blue. Tom brought a good deal of +sugar, all in white lumps, and a can of milk. He bought pies and jumbles +and turnovers and ginger-snaps and egg-crackers and cake and bread at +the bake-house, and butter and cheese and Bologna sausage--I can't bear +Bologna sausage--and some oranges, that he brought home from sea. And +the sweetest jelly you ever saw! Don't know what 't is made of, but they +call it guava jelly, and comes in little boxes. I believe I could eat +twenty boxes of that kind of jelly, if I could get it. Dorry says he +don't doubt they make it out of apple-parings down in Jersey. + +The Other Betsey stood up in a chair and took down her best china cups +and saucers, that used to be her grandmother's, and hadn't been took +down for a good many years, and wiped the dust off. Little mites of +things, with pictures on them. We boys didn't drink tea, only Tom Cush; +we had milk in mugs. Mine was a tall, slim one, not much bigger round +than an inkstand, and had pine-trees on it, blue pine-trees. Dorry had a +china one that was about as clear as glass, that Lame Betsey's brother +brought home when he went captain, and Bubby Short's had "A gift of +affection" on it. That was one her little niece used to drink out of +that died afterwards, when she was very little. + +I tell you if that supper-table didn't look like a supper-table when 't +was all ready! They set Lame Betsey at the head of the table, because +she couldn't get up, and Dorry said the one at the head must never get +up, for it wasn't polite. We took her right up in her chair to set her +there. Then there was some fun quarrelling which should sit at her right +hand, because that is a seat of honor. Tom said Gapper ought to, for he +was the oldest. But he said it ought to be Tom, because he was the most +like company. But at last she said 't wouldn't make any difference, +because she was left-handed. The Other Betsey brought some twisted +doughnuts out. + +Now I'll tell you how we sat. + +Lame Betsey at the head, and the Other Betsey at the other end; Gapper +Sky Blue and Rosy and Bubby Short on the right side, and Tom and Dorry +and I on the left. And if we didn't have a bully time! The Two Betseys +and Gapper used to know each other, and to go to school together, and +they told such funny stories, made us die a laughing, and when I get +home you'll hear some. Then Gapper told Tom Cush that now he was a +sailor he ought to spin us a yarn. When I come home I'll tell you the +yarn Tom spun. 'T was all about an alligator he saw, and about going +near it in a boat, and what the Arabs did, and what he did, and what the +alligator did. Wait till I come, then you'll hear about it. Both Betseys +kept putting down their knife and fork, and looking up at him, just as +scared, and kept saying, "Wal, I never!" "Now did you ever!" + +Tom acted it all out. First he cleared a place for a river. Then he took +a twisted doughnut for the alligator and a ginger-snap for a boat. I'll +tell you about it sometime. Guess 't wasn't all true, for you can put +anything you've a mind to in a yarn. He told us about the beautiful +birds, and when I told him about one my sister used to have, he said +he'd bring her home a Java sparrow. + +Then he told us about drinking "Hopshe!" I'll tell how, and I want all +of you to try it. + +Now suppose Hannah Jane was the one to try it. + +First, she takes a tumbler of water in her hand, then you all say +together, Hannah Jane and all, quite fast,-- + + "A blackbird sat on a swinging limb. + He looked at me and I at him. + Once so merrily,--Hopshe! + Twice so merrily,--Hopshe! + Thrice so merrily,--Hopshe!" + +Now I shall tell where the fun comes in. + +While all the rest say, "Once so merrily," Hannah Jane must drink one +swallow quick enough to say the "Hopshe!" with them. Then another +swallow while they say, "Twice so merrily," and another while they say, +"Thrice so merrily," and be ready to say the "Hopshe" with them, every +time. We tried it, and I tell you if the "Hopshe's" didn't come in all +sorts of funny ways! The Two Betseys told about some funny tricks they +used to try, to see who was going to be their beau. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I saw a dollar bill in Gapper Sky Blue's hand after Tom Cush bade +him good by. Dorry says how do I know but 't was more than a dollar +bill, and I don't. + +W. H. + +There was a good deal left for the Two Betseys to eat afterwards. I had +a letter from Mr. Fry. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR AUNT,-- + +There is going to be a dancing-school, and Dorry's mother wants him to +go, and he says he guesses he shall, so he may know what to do when he +goes to parties, and his cousin Arthur, that doesn't go to this school, +says 't is bully when you've learned how. Please ask my grandmother if I +may go if I want to. Dorry wants me to if he does, he says, and Bubby +Short says he means to too, if we two do, if his mother'll let him. +Dorry's mother says we shall get very good manners there, and learn how +to walk into a room. I know how now to walk into a room, I told him, +walk right in. But he says his mother means to _enter_ a room, and +there's more to it than walking right in. He don't mean an empty room, +but company and all that. I guess I should be scared to go, the first of +it; I guess I should be bashful, but Dorry's cousin says you get over +that when you're used to it. Good many fellers are going. Mr. Augustus, +and Old Wonder Boy, and Mr. O'Shirk. Now I suppose you can't think who +that is! Don't you know that one I wrote about, that kicked and didn't +pay, and that wouldn't help water the course? The great boys picked out +that name for him, Mr. O'Shirk. The O stands for owe, and Shirk stands +for itself. I send home a map to my grandmother, I've just been making, +and I tried hard as I could to do it right, and I hope she will excuse +mistakes, for I never made one before. 'T is the United States. Old +Wonder Boy says he should thought I'd stretched out "Yankee Land" a +little bigger. He calls the New England States "Yankee Land." And he +says they make a mighty poor show on the map. But Mr. Augustus told him +the brains of the whole country were kept in a little place up top, same +as in folks. So W. B. kept still till next time. Dorry said he'd heard +of folks going out of the world into Jersey. If I go to dancing-school, +I should like to have a bosom shirt, and quite a stylish bow. I think +I'm big enough, don't you, for bosom shirts? I had perfect this forenoon +in all. I've lost that pair of spotted mittens, and I don't know where, +I'm sure. I know I put them in my pocket. My hands get just as numb now +with cold! Seems as if things in my pockets got alive and jumped out. I +was clapping 'em and blowing 'em this morning, and that good, tiptop +Wedding Cake teacher told me to come in his house, and his wife found +some old gloves of his. I never saw a better lady than she is. When she +meets us she smiles and says, "How do you do, William Henry?" or Dorry, +or whatever boy it is. And when W. B. was sick one day she took care of +him. And she asks us to call and see her, and says she likes boys! Dorry +says he's willing to wipe his feet till he wears a hole in the mat, +before he goes in her house. For she don't keep eying your boots. Says +he has seen women brush up a feller's mud right before his face and +eyes. My hair grows darker colored now. And my freckles have 'most faded +out the color of my face. I'm glad of it. + +From your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_Aunt Phebe to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BILLY,-- + +We are very much pleased indeed with your map. Dear me, how the United +States have altered since they were young, same as the rest of us! That +western part used to be all Territory. You couldn't have done anything +to please your grandmother better. She's hung it up in the front room, +between Napoleon and the Mourning Piece, and thinks everything of it. +Everybody that comes in she says, "Should you like to see the map my +little grandson made,--my little Billy?" You'll always be her little +Billy. She don't seem to think you are growing up so fast. Then she +throws a shawl over her head, and trots across the entry and opens the +shutters, and then she'll say, "Pretty good for a little boy." And +tells which is Maine, and which is New York, and points out the little +arrow and the printed capital letters. Folks admire fast as they can, +for that room is cold as a barn, winters. The last one she took in was +the minister. Your grandmother sets a sight o' store by you. She's proud +of you, Billy, and you must always act so as to give her reason to be, +and never bring her pride to shame. + +We are willing you should go. At first she was rather against it, though +she says she always meant you should learn to take the steps when you +got old enough, but she was afraid it might tend to making you +light-headed, and to unsteady your mind. This was the other night when +we were talking it over in your kitchen, sitting round the fire. Somehow +we get in there about every evening. Does seem so good to see the blaze. +Your father said if a boy had common sense he'd keep his balance +anywhere, and if dancing-school could spoil a fellow, he wasn't worth +spoiling, worth keeping, I mean. I said I thought it might tend to keep +you from toeing in, and being clumsy in your motions. Your Uncle J. said +he didn't think 't was worth while worrying about our Billy getting +spoiled going to dancing-school, or anybody's Billy, without 't was some +dandyfied coot. "Make the head right and the heart right," says he, "and +let the feet go,--if they want to." So you see, Billy, we expect your +head's right and your heart's right. Are they? + +The girls and I have turned to and cut and made you a couple of bosom +shirts and three bows, for of course you will have to dress rather +different, and think a little more about your looks. But not too much, +Billy! Not too much! And don't for gracious sake ever get the notion +that you're good-looking! Don't stick a breastpin in that shirt-bosom +and go about with a strut! I don't know what I hadn't as soon see as see +a vain young man. I do believe if I were to look out, and you should be +coming up my front yard gravel path with a strut, or any sort of +dandyfied airs, I should shut the door in your face. Much as I set by +you, I really believe I should. Lor! what are good looks? What are you +laying out to make of yourself? That's the question. Freckles are not so +bad as vanity. Anybody'd think I was a minister's wife, the way I talk. +But, Billy, you haven't got any mother, and I do think so much of you! +'T would break my heart to see you grow up into one of those +spick-and-span fellers, that are all made up of a bow and a scrape and a +genteel smile! Though I don't think there's much danger, for common +sense runs in the family. No need to go with muddy boots, though, or +linty, or have your bow upside down. You've always been more inclined +that way. Fact is, I want you should be just right. I haven't a minute's +more time to write. Your Uncle J. has promised to finish this. + + * * * * * + +DEAR COUSIN BILLY,-- + +This is Lucy Maria writing. The blacksmith sent word he was waiting to +sharpen the colt, and father had to go. He's glad of it, because he +never likes to write letters. I'm glad you are going to dancing-school. +Learn all the new steps you can, so as to show us how they're done. +Hannah Jane's beau has just been here. He lives six miles off, close by +where we went once to a clam-bake, when Dorry was here. Georgiana's +great doll, Seraphine, is engaged to a young officer across the road. He +was in the war, and draws a pension of a cent a week. The engagement +isn't out yet, but the family have known it several days, and he has +been invited to tea. He wore his best uniform. Seraphine is invited over +there, and Georgie is making her a spangled dress to wear. The wedding +is to come off next month. I do wish I could think of more news. Father +is the best hand to write news, if you can only get him at it. Once when +I was away, he wrote me a letter and told me what they had for dinner, +and what everybody was doing, and how many kittens the cat had, and how +much the calf weighed, and what Tommy said, and seemed 'most as if I'd +been home and seen them. Be sure and write how you get along at +dancing-school, and what the girls wear. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +MY DEAR AUNT,-- + +Thank you for the bosom shirts and the ones that helped make them. +They've come. I like them very much and the bows too. They're made +right. I lent Bubby Short one bow. His box hadn't come. He kept running +to the expressman's about every minute. We began to go last night. If we +miss any questions to-day, we shall have to stay away next night. That's +going to be the rule. O, you ought to 've seen Dorry and me at it with +the soap and towels, getting ready! We scrubbed our faces real bright +and shining, and he said he felt like a walking jack-o'-lantern. I +bought some slippers and had to put some cotton-wool in both the toes of +'em to jam my heels out where they belonged to. I don't like to wear +slippers. My bosom shirt sets bully, and I bought a linen-finish paper +collar. I haven't got any breastpin. I don't think I'm good looking. +Dorry doesn't either. I know he don't. That's girls' business. We had to +buy some gloves, because his cousin said the girls wore white ones, and +nice things, and 't wouldn't do if we didn't. Yellowish-brownish ones we +got, so as to keep clean longer. But trying on they split in good many +places, our fingers were so damp, washing 'em so long. Lame Betsey is +going to sew the holes up. When we got there we didn't dare to go in, +first of it, but stood peeking in the door, and by and by Old Wonder Boy +gave me a shove and made me tumble in. I jumped up quick, but there was +a great long row of girls, and they all went, "Tee hee hee! tee hee +hee!" Then Mr. Tornero stamped and put us in the gentlemen's row. Then +both rows had to stand up and take positions, and put one heel in the +hollow of t' other foot, and then t' other heel in that one's hollow, +and make bows and twist different ways. And right in front was a whole +row of girls, all looking. But they made mistakes theirselves sometimes. + +First thing we learned the graces, and that is to bend way over +sideways, with one hand up in the air, and the other 'most way down to +the floor, then shift about on t' other tack, then come down on one +knee, with one hand way behind, and the other one reached out ahead as +if 't was picking up something a good ways off. We have to do these +graces to make us limberer, so to dance easier. I tell you 't is mighty +tittlish, keeping on one knee and the other toe, and reaching both ways, +and looking up in the air. I did something funny. I'll tell you, but +don't tell Grandmother. Of course 't was bad, I know 't was, made 'em +all laugh, but I didn't think of their all pitching over. You see I was +at one end of the row and W. B. was next, and we were fixed all as I +said, kneeling down in that tittlish way, reaching out both ways, before +and behind, and looking up, and I remembered how he shoved me into the +room, and just gave him a little bit of a shove, and he pitched on to +the next one, and he on to the next, and that one on to the next, and so +that whole row went down, just like a row of bricks! Course everybody +laughed, and Mr. Tornero did too, but he soon stamped us still again. +And then just as they all got still again, I kept seeing how they all +went down, and I shut up my mouth, but all of a sudden that laugh shut +up inside made a funny sort of squelching sound, and he looked at me +cross and stamped his foot again. Now I suppose he'll think I'm a bad +one, just for that tumbling in and shoving that row down and then +laughing when I was trying to keep in! He wants we should practise the +graces between times, to limber us up. Dorry and I do them up in our +room. Guess you'd laugh if you could see, when we do that first part, +bending over sideways, one hand up and one down. I tried to draw us, but +'t is a good deal harder drawing crooked boys than 't is straight ones, +so 't isn't a very good picture. The boys that go keep practising in the +entries and everywhere, and the other ones do it to make fun of us, so +you keep seeing twisted boys everywhere. Bubby Short was kneeling down +out doors across the yard, on one knee, and I thought he was taking aim +at something, but he said he was doing the graces. I must study now. +Bubby Short got punished a real funny way at school to-day. I'll tell +you next time. I'm in a hurry to study now. + +Your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Dorry's just come in. He and Bubby Short and I bought "Seraphine" +some wedding presents and he's done 'em up in cotton-wool, and they'll +come to her in a pink envelope. Dorry sent that red-stoned ring and I +sent the blue-stoned. We thought they'd do for a doll's bracelets. Bubby +Short sends the artificial rosebud. He likes flowers,--he keeps a +geranium. We bought the presents at the Two Betseys' Shop. They said +they'd do for bracelets. Dorry says, "Don't mention the price, for 't +isn't likely everybody can make such dear presents, and might hurt their +feelings." We tried to make some poetry, but couldn't think of but two +lines. + + When you're a gallant soldier's wife, + May you be happy all your life! + +Dorry says that's enough, for she couldn't be any more than happy all +her life. "Can too!" W. B. said. "Can be good!" "O, poh!" Bubby Short +said; "she can't be happy without she's good, can she?" But I want to +study my lesson now. + +W. H. + +Those bosom shirts are the best things I ever had. + +W. H. + +Although it would have been a vast sacrifice, I think I would have +almost given my best pair of shoes for a chance of seeing Billy when +dressed to go to the dancing-school. A boy in his first bosom shirt is +such an amusing sight. You can easily pick one out in a crowd by his +satisfied air, and stiff gait; by the setting back of the shoulders, and +the throwing out of the chest,--as if that smooth, white, starched +expanse did not set out enough of itself! Some have a way of looking up +at gentlemen, as much as to say, _We_ wear bosom shirts! But of course +those of us boys and men who have passed through this experience +remember all about it. + + * * * * * + +_Lucy Maria to William Henry._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +That famous wedding came off yesterday afternoon. There were fifteen +invited. I do wish I had time to tell you all about it. Mother made a +real wedding-cake. Georgie has hardly slept a wink for a week, I do +believe, thinking about it. The young soldier wore his epaulets, having +been made General the day before. The bride was dressed in pure white, +of course, with a long veil, of course, too, and orange blossoms, real +orange blossoms that I made myself. The presents were spread out on the +baby-house table. Perhaps you don't know that Georgie has a baby-house. +It is made of a sugar-box, set up on end papered with housepaper inside, +and brown outside. It has a down below, an up stairs, and garret. I do +wish I had time to tell you all about the wedding, but Matilda's a +churning, and I promised to part the butter and work it over, if she +would fetch it. I do wish you could hear her singing away,-- + + "Come, butter, come! come, butter, come! + Peter stands at the gate, waiting for his buttered cake. + Come, butter, come!" + +Besides the baby-house table, the presents were laid on the roof of the +baby-house. There were sontags, shoes, hats and feathers, and all sorts +of clothes, the rosebud, your jewelry, and more besides, also spoons, +dishes, gridirons, vases and everything they could possibly want, to +keep house with, even to flatirons and a cooking-stove. The hands of the +happy couple were fastened together, and they stood up (there was a pile +of books behind them). Then the trouble was, who should be the minister? +At last we saw that funny Dicky Willis, your old crony, peeping in the +window, and made him come in and be the minister. He was just the right +one for it. He charged the bridegroom to give his wife everything she +asked for, and keep her in dry kindlings, and let her have her own way, +and always wipe his feet, and not smoke in the house, and never find +fault; and charged her to sew on his buttons, and have plum-pudding +often, and let him smoke in the house, and never want any new clothes, +and always mind her husband, and let him bring in mud on his feet, and +always have a smiling face, even if the baby-house was a burning down +over their heads, and then pronounced them man and wife. I could fill up +half a dozen sheets of paper, if I had time, but I'm afraid of that +butter. Everybody shook hands with them, and kissed them, and the +wedding-cake was passed round, and then the children played + + "Little Sally Waters, sitting in the sun, + Crying and weeping for her lost one." + +In the midst of everything Tommy came in with Georgiana's atlas, and +said he'd found "two kick-cases." He meant those two black hemispheres, +that are pictured out in the beginning. Mother put a raisin in his +mouth, and hushed him up. The happy couple have gone on a wedding tour +to Susie Snow's grandmother's _country_ _seat_. It is expected that they +will live half the time with Georgie, and half at the General's +head-quarters. But their plans may be altered; this is a changing world, +and a young couple can't always tell what's before them. I do wish you'd +write how you get on at dancing-school, and what the great girls wear, +about my age. O dear what an age it is! 'T is dreadful to think of! +'Most eighteen! Did you ever hear of anybody being so old? Now truly I'm +'most ashamed to own how old I am. Eighteen next month! Hush, don't +tell! Keep it private! I do wish I could grow backwards, and grow back +into a baby-house if 't were nothing but a sugar-box. I do long to cut +my hair off and go in a long-sleeved tier, and I've a good mind to. We +don't think you made a very good beginning. Guess your Mr.--I can't +think of his name--thought there was need enough of your learning to +enter a room. Mother's going to put a note in this letter. I've made her +promise not to scold you, but she's got something particular to say. +Father will too. I told him 't would be just what you would like, one of +his letters. Matilda says the butter has sent word it's coming. Write +soon. + +From your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + + * * * * * + +I was very sorry not to be able to attend the wedding. My present was +half a dozen holders. The woman with whom I board said I couldn't give a +bride anything more useful. Her little daughter made them for me, at the +rate of two cents apiece. They were an inch wide, and all had loops at +the corners. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Uncle Jacob._ + +HOW ARE YOU, YOUNG MAN? + +I am very glad you go to dancing-school. Boys, as a general thing, are +too fond of study, and 't is a good plan to have some contrivance to +take their minds off their books. I suppose you'd like to know what is +going on here at home. Your grandmother sits by the fire knitting some +mittens for you to lose, so be sure you do it. [She says, tell him to be +sure when he goes to dancing-school to wear his overcoat.] Your aunt +Phebe is making jelly tarts. Says I can't have any till meal-time. [Tell +him to be sure and get cooled off some before he comes away.] Your +grandmother can't help worrying about that dancing-school. Matilda is +picking over raisins for the pies. She won't sit very close to me. Now +Tommy has come in, crying with cold hands. Lucy Maria is soaking them in +cold water. I don't doubt he'll get a tart. Yes, he has. First he cries, +and then he takes a bite. [Tell him not to go and come in his slippers.] +Aunt Phebe says, "Now there's William Henry growing up, you ought to +give him some advice." But I tell her that a boy almost in his teens +knows himself what's right and what's wrong. Now Georgiana has come in +crying. Says she stepped her foot through a puddle of ice. Grandmother +has set her up to dry her foot. Now she'll get a tart, I suppose! Yes +she has. [Tell him to look right at the teacher's feet.] That's good +advice if you expect to learn how. Now your aunt says I'm such a good +boy to write letters she's going to give me this one that's burnt on the +edge. [Tell him to brush his clothes and not go linty.] More good +advice. I guess now I've got the tart I won't write any more. Of course +we expect you to do just about right. If you neglect your studies and so +waste your father's money, you'll be an ungrateful scamp. If you get +into any contemptible mean ways, we shall be ashamed to own you. Do you +mean to do anything or be anything now or ever? If you do, 't is time +you were thinking about it. + +UNCLE JACOB. + +All between the brackets are messages from your grandmother. + +J. U. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +When you get as far as choosing partners, there's a word I want to say +to you, though, as you're a pretty good dispositioned boy, maybe there's +no need; still you may not always think, so 'twill do no harm to say it. +There are always some girls that don't dance quite so well, or don't +look quite so well, or don't dress quite so well, or are not liked quite +so well, or are not quite so much acquainted. Now I don't want you to +all the time, but sometimes, say once in an evening, I want you to pick +out one of these for your partner. I know 't isn't the way boys do. But +you can. Suppose you don't have a good time that one dance. You weren't +sent into the world to have a good time every minute of your life! How +would you like to sit still all the evening? I've been spectator at such +times, and I've seen how things go on! Why, if boys would be more +thoughtful, every girl might have a good time, besides doing the boys +good to think of something besides their own comfort. If I were you I +wouldn't try to make fun, but try to learn, for though your father was +willing you should go, and wants to do everything he can for you, he has +to work hard for his money. Lucy Maria is waiting to hear how you get +on. + +Your affectionate + +AUNT PHEBE. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Lucy Maria._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +I was going to write to you before, how I was getting along, but have +had to study very hard. We've been five times. The girls wear slippers +and brown boots and other colors, and white dresses and blue and all +kinds, and long ribbons, and a good many pretty girls go. If girls +didn't go, I should like to go better. I mean till we know how, for I'd +rather make mistakes when only boys were looking. And I make a good +many, because he says I don't have time and tune. He says my feet come +down sometimes right square athwart the time. So I watched the rest, and +when they put their feet down, I did mine. But that was a stroke too +late, he said. Said "time and tune waits for no man." I like to +promenade, because a feller can go it some then. We learn all kinds of +waltzes and redowas and polkas. I can polka with one that knows how. +Whirling round makes me light-headed just as Grandmother said. But I get +over it some. We are going to do the German at the last of it. The worst +of it is cutting across the room to get your partners. He calls out when +we're all standing up in two rows, "First gentleman take the first +lady!" Now, supposing I'm first gentleman, I have to go way across to +first lady with all of 'em looking, and fix my feet right way, one heel +in the other hollow, and then make my bow, and then she has to make that +kind of kneeling-down bow that girls do, and then we wait till all of +'em get across one by one. Then we take the step a little while, and +then launch off round the hall, polking, or else get into quadrilles. +And if we do we make graces to the partners and the corners. I like +quadrilles best, because you can hop round some and have a good time, if +you have a good partner. You can dance good deal better with a good +partner. Last time I had that one the fellers call "real estate," +because you can't move her she don't ever get ready to start, and when +'t is time to turn stands still as a post. + +Dorry and I practise going across after partners, up in our room. You +ought to 've seen us yesterday! Dorry was the lady. If he didn't look +funny! He fixed the table-cloth off the entry table, to make it look +like his mother's opera-cape, and fastened a great sponge on for a +waterfall, and fizzled out his hair, and had a little tidy on top his +head, and that red bow you sent me right in front of it. Then he stood +out by the window, and kept looking at his opera-cape, and smoothing it +down, and poking his hair, and holding his handkerchief, the way girls +do, and kept whispering, or making believe, to Bubby Short, the way +girls do. Then I went across and made my bow, and he made that +kneeling-down bow, and then we tried to polka redowa, but our boots +tripped us up, and we couldn't stand up, and laughed so we tumbled down, +and didn't hear anybody coming till he knocked, and 't was the teacher, +come to see what the matter was. Not Wedding Cake, but Old Brown Bread, +and he said dancing mustn't be brought into our studies, and scolded +more, but I saw his eyes laughing, looking at Dorry. One of the boys +tumbled down stairs, doing the graces in the entry, too near the edge, +and it's forbidden now. Some of the first-class fellers put up a notice +one night in the entry, great printed letters. + +[Illustration: NO ADMITTANCE TO THE GRACES] + +That owl stands for Minerva. I couldn't make a very good one because I'm +in such a hurry to do my examples. The goddess of wisdom used to be +named Minerva. She was painted with an owl. I've been reading it in the +Classical Dictionary. Dorry and Bubby Short and I have just been to the +Two Betseys to get our gloves sewed up, and the Other Betsey said she +used to dance like a top. Then she held her dress up with her thumbs +and fingers, and took four different kinds of balances. Made us die a +laughing, she hopped up and down so. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S That TO isn't left out in the notice, it's my own mistake. + + * * * * * + +The remaining letters were probably written during his last term at the +school. + + * * * * * + +_Matilda's Letter to William Henry._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +Lucy Maria keeps telling me that I promised to write you a letter, but I +wish I hadn't promised to write you one, because I don't like to write +letters very well, for I can't think of anything to write. But Lucy +Maria she likes to, and that would do just as well as for me to. But +mother says I ought to often, so as to get me in the habit of it. I +don't have very much time to write very long letters, for the girls are +getting up a Fair, and I am helping do the old woman in her shoe, and +gentlemen's pincushions, and presents for the arrow table, where the +arrow swings round and points to your present, and so I don't get very +much time between schools. For we have to write compositions every week +now, and all the girls think the teacher is just as mean as he can be to +make us. We want he should take off some of the compositions and put +more on to our other lessons; but no. He thinks 't is the best thing we +can do. He don't care about anything else, I believe. Susie Snow says +she believes he's all made up of composition. Our next subject is +"Economy" and we've got to put in time wasted, and health wasted, and +money wasted. Susie Snow is going to put in hers that girls should never +waste their time writing compositions. + +I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in +a sandy desert, I believe. But she don't have to go to school. Hannah +Jane hasn't got home from Aunt Matilda's yet. The minister and his wife +and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond +of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe +brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. 'T is very pleasant +weather. I wish you'd come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are +thick as spatters, and I don't have much time. The dog stepped on my +sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven't come up. Father says I better +go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache, +that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that's in the +Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up +four times, and I've brought it in the house and stuck it in a +cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because 't was used to +pepper at home, but I can't tell what he means and what he don't, he +funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to. + +O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But 't is quite bad news. It +happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us +cried. I couldn't help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the +one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till 't was big +enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating +supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy +hadn't got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was. +Father said he didn't doubt he'd gone to find his turtle. He had a +turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he'd have to +have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep +things about for him when he don't come straight home to his meals. He'd +rather play than eat. 'T is only a little school he goes to. Not very +far off. Five scholars, that's all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell +about our cow. + +We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn't think what the matter +was. 'T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard, +crying and hollering both together, "Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!" Much +as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what 't was, for he +knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and +Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow! +She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises, +and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper +in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn't do anything. + +"Rails! rails!" they all called out, and we pulled them out of the +fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft +she sank in so they couldn't do anything with her. Much as they could do +to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a rotten rail, and it +broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two +canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to +go get some boards. There weren't any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade's +new house, and that was too far off, and father said 't was too late, +for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. 'Most all the women and +girls came away then, for we couldn't bear to stay any longer to see her +suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes +looked very mournful. + +In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got +her up, but not soon enough. She's buried now, under the poplar-tree, in +that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed +to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana +about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn't the best +breed, but she's part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not +very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent. +Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart, +that don't hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to +have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can't screw her +courage up, and can't take the time. Your father says he wants to see +her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she +might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy's trousers, +that would be natural. He's always making barn-doors in his trousers, +he's such a climbing fellow. + +L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and father's going to make +up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told +us about, and I'm going to be a music teacher, I guess. I'm going to +begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a +mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha' n't I be glad! But Susie Snow +says I shall sing another tune after I've taken a little while. Father +says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to +practise two hours a day. I'd just as soon promise that as not. 'T is +just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house. +Seems if I couldn't believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew +how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now, +William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as +possible. + +From your affectionate Cousin, + +MATILDA. + +P. S. Cousin Joe has sent me a smelling-bottle, a little gilt one he +brought home, that's got ninety-four different smells in it. Mother is +writing you a note. She says you can't dance on her carpet. Father says +he's sorry he didn't learn the graces, and means to when you come again. +We can dance in the barn. Tommy has just come in. He says he knows his B +A C's. He's a funny boy. He means A B C's. But he always gets the horse +before the cart. One day we tried to make conundrums, and Georgiana made +this,--see if you can answer it: Which is best, to have plum-cake for +supper and only have a little mite of a piece, or cookies, and have as +many as you want? + +Georgiana's kitty has just jumped over the fence. She's after my +morning-glories again. Just as fast as I fasten 'em up, she goes to +playing with the strings and claws 'em down again. Lucy Maria drew a +picture of her doing it. + +M. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Dorry._ + +DEAR WILLIAM HENRY'S GRANDMOTHER,-- + +William Henry wants I should tell you not to be scared when you see +another boy's handwriting on the back of this letter, and not to think +he's got cold, or got anything else, like measles, or anything of that +kind, and not to feel worried about his not writing for so long, for he +is all right except the first joint of his forefinger. He crooked that +joint, or else uncrooked it, playing base ball. 'T was a heavy ball and +he took it whole on that joint, and 't is so stiff he can't handle a +penholder. He thinks you will all wonder why he doesn't write, and worry +about his getting sick or something, but he never felt better. Appetite +very good. He has received his cousin Matilda's letter, and will answer +it when he can. He wants to know what she'd think if she had to write +poetry for composition. Our teacher told us we must each write one verse +about June. I put three of them in for you to see, but don't put our +names. + + "O I love the verdant June, + When the birds are all in tune, + When the rowers go out to row, + When the mowers go out to mow, + O, sweetly smells the fragrant hay, + As we ride on the load and stow it away." + + "In June we can sail + In the gentle gale, + On the waters blue, + And catch cod-fish + That make a good dish, + And mackerel too." + + "In June the summer skies are clear, + And soon green apples do appear. + And though they're hard and sour, we know + That every day they'll better grow. + This teaches us that boys, also, + Every day should better grow." + +P. S. He wants I should tell you 't is tied up in a rag all right and +don't hinder his studying. Says he wishes his cousin Lucy Maria would +write him one of her kind of letters, that she knows how to write, and +tell what they are all doing and what they talk about, and when his +finger is well he will answer all the letters they will write to him. + +Very respectfully, + +BILLY'S FRIEND, DORRY. + + * * * * * + +_Aunt Phebe's Note._ + +MY DEAR BILLY,-- + +Grandmother worries about that finger. Do ask Dorry to write again, or +else take the penholder in your middle one, though we mistrust that's +damaged, or you'd have written before this. I've had my picture taken +and send you one to keep. Look at it often, and if you've done anything +wrong, think it shakes its head at you! Little wrong things, or big +ones, all the same. For little wrongs are more dangerous, because we +think they're of no account. But they show what's in a person, same as +a little pattern of goods tells what the whole piece is. Show me half an +inch of cotton and I'll tell you what color the whole spool is. + +I'd no idea of having my picture taken. I was right in the heart of +baking, when your Uncle J. drove up and said he'd harnessed up on +purpose. 'T was all a contrived plan between him and the girls. I saw +them smiling together when Mattie brought out my black alpaca. I thought +the girls seemed mighty ready to take hold and finish up the baking. But +he got caught in his own trap, for Lucy Maria went with us, to make sure +my collar and things looked fit to be taken, and she set her foot down +we shouldn't leave the saloon till he'd had his, for she was going to +have a locket with us both inside, and I had to be done over small. What +an operation it is to have your picture taken! If we could only take +ether and be carried through! He put my head in a clamp, and crossed my +hands, and pinned up a black rag for me to look at, and told me to look +easy and natural, and smile a very little! I'm sure I tried to, but your +Uncle J. says 't is a very melancholy face, and Lucy Maria says the +cheek-bones cast a shadow! Your father says the worst of it is, it does +look like me! I think it's too bad to make fun of it, after all I passed +through! Your Uncle J. took things easy and joked with the man, and was +laughing when the cover was taken off and didn't dare to unlaugh, he +says, so he came out all right, with a laughing face, as he always is. +The girls want we should be taken large and hang up, side by side, in +two oval frames, over the mantel-piece. But their father says he sha' +n't be hung up alive, if he can help himself. + +It isn't likely I shall write to you again very soon. Cousin Joe and his +accordion are coming, and he'll bring his sisters, and the young folks +about here know them, and I expect there'll be nothing but frolicking. +Then there'll be some of your Uncle J.'s folks after that, so you see +we'll be all in a hubbub and I shall have to be the very hub of the +hubbub, I suppose. Lucy Maria says, "Tell William Henry to send us a +charade, or something to amuse the company with." Write when you can. + +With a great deal of love, your affectionate + +AUNT PHEBE. + +P. S. Take good care of your finger. A finger-joint would be a great +loss. I think cold water is as good as anything. Grandmother wishes you +had some of her carrot salve. Let us hear from you in some way. +Grandmother wants to know if the Two Betseys don't make carrot salve. + + * * * * * + +I must add here that Lucy Maria was not the girl to give up those +pictures in "two oval frames." For by perseverance, and partly with my +assistance, the thing was secretly managed, and managed so well that +Uncle Jacob actually carried them out home himself, in a bundle to Lucy +Maria, without knowing it! And they now hang in triumph over the +fireplace in the "girls' chamber." + + * * * * * + +_Lucy Maria to William Henry._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +'T is a pity about that forefinger. Pray get it well enough to handle a +pen, 't is so long since you've written. So you want home matters +reported. Eatable matters of course will be most interesting. Milk and +butter, plenty. Gingerbread (plain), ditto. Gingerbread (fancy), scarce. +Cookies, quiet. Plum-cake, in demand. Snaps, lively. Brown-bread, firm. +White-bread (sliced), dull. Biscuits (hot), brisk. Custard, unsteady. +Preserves not in the market. + +What do we do, and what do we talk about? Why, we talk about our cousin +William Henry, and what we do can't be told within the bounds of one +letter. Think of seven cows' milk to churn into butter, besides a cheese +now and then, and besides working for the extra hands we hire this time +o' year! I should have written to you before, when we first heard of +your accident, if I could have got the time. Hannah Jane is away, and +we've let Mattie go with Susie Snow to Grandma Snow's again for a few +days. Grandma Snow likes to have Mattie come with Susie, for 't is +rather a still, dull place. So you must think we are quite lonesome here +now, and we are, especially mother. Father tells her she'd better +advertise for a companion. I've a good mind to advertise to be a +companion. What do companions do? The old lady might be cross, or the +old gentleman, but that wouldn't hurt me, so long as I kept clever +myself. Don't doubt I'd get fun out of it some way. There's fun in about +everything I think. + +I've been trying to get father and mother to go to Aunt Lucy's and stay +all night. But father thinks there wouldn't be anybody to shut the +barn-door, and mother thinks there wouldn't be anybody to do anything, +though I've promised to scald the pans, and do up the starched things, +and keep Tommy out of the sugar-bowl. He takes a lump every chance he +can get. Takes after his father. Father puts sugar on sweetened +puddings, if mother isn't looking! We've made some verses to plague +Tommy, and when Mattie gets her piano, they're going to be set to music. + +SONG. + +A SWEET TOMMY. + + As turns the needle to the pole, + So Tommy to the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + + Tommy always takes a toll + Going by the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + + Were Tommy blind as any mole, + He'd always find the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + +He's a funny talking fellow. We took him into town last night, to see +the illumination. This morning we heard him and Frankie Snow telling +Benny Joyce about it. Father and I were listening behind the blinds. +Made father's eyes twinkle. Don't you know how they twinkle when he's +tickled? + +"You didn't see the _rumination_ and we did!" we heard Tommy say. + +"Rumination? What's a rumination?" asked Benny. + +"O hoo! hoo!" cried Tommy. "Denno what a rumination is!" + +"Why," said Frankie, "don't you know the _publicans_? Wal, that's it." + +"O poh!" said Benny. "Publicans and sinners! I knew they's coming!" + +"And soldiers!" said Frankie. "O my! All a marching together!" + +"O poh!" said Benny. "I see 'em go by. Paint-pots on their heads, and +brushes _in_ 'em! I wasn't goin' to chase!" + +"Guess nobody wouldn't let ye?" said Frankie. + +"Didn't either!" cried Tommy, "didn't have paint-pots!" + +"Did!" said Benny. "Guess my great brother knows!" + +"Guess we know," said Frankie, "when we went!" + +"And the town was all _celebrated_," said Tommy. And the houses all +_gloomed_ up! And horses! O my! + +"O poh!" said Benny. "When I grow up, I'm goin' to have a span!" + +If mother does go, she'll take Tommy, for she wouldn't sleep a wink away +from him over night. Father pretends he'd go if he had a handsome span. +Says he hasn't got a horse in the barn good enough to take mother out +riding. When Mammy Sarah was here washing, she told him how he could get +a good span. You know he's always joking about taking summer boarders. +Says Mammy Sarah, "Now 't is a wonder to me you don't do it, for summer +boarders is as good as a gold-mine. Money runs right out of their +pockets, and all you have to do is to catch it." She says we could make +enough out of a couple of them, in a month's time, to buy a handsome +span, and she isn't sure but the harness. + +I think we begin to be a little in earnest about summer boarders. For we +have rooms enough, in both houses together, and milk and vegetables, and +mother's a splendid cook. Mammy Sarah says, "They ain't diffikilt, and +after they've been in the country couple of weeks, they don't eat so +very much more than other folks." + +Father says he wants to take them more for the entertainment than the +money. He wants rich ones, but not the sensible kind, that know money +isn't the only thing worth having. Says what he wants is that silly, +stuck-up kind, that put on airs, and make fools of themselves, they'd be +so amusing! Thinks the best sort for our use would be specimens that +went up quite sudden from poor to rich, like balloons, all filled with +gas. I believe there'd be lots of fun to be made out of them. I've seen +one or two. Gracious! You'd think they weren't born on the same planet +with poor folks. Mother'd rather have the really well-informed, sensible +kind, that we may learn something from them. A couple of each would be +just the thing. How do you like mother's picture? We don't feel at all +satisfied with it. If she could only be taken at home! Then she'd look +natural. Father says the world is going ahead so fast, he believes the +time will come when every family will have its own picture-machine, much +as it has its own frying-pan. Then when folks have on their best +expressions, why, clap it right before them. Then they'll look homish. +Says what he wants is to have mother's face when she's just made a batch +of uncommon light biscuits, or when Tommy's said something smart. Won't +there be funny pictures when we can hold up a machine before anybody +any minute, like a frying-pan, and catch faces glad, or mad, or sad, or +any way? I made believe take Tommy's and then showed them to him on a +piece of paper. Guess I'll put them in the letter. They'll do to amuse +you. I draw an hour or so every day. First, I have to make my hour. +Sometimes I have to make more. For I will read a little, if the world +stops because of it. But about the faces. First one is when he was +crying because he couldn't have sugar on his potatoes. Next one is when +he was spunky at Frankie Snow for bursting his little red balloon. The +pleased-looking face is when father brought him home a little ship all +rigged, and the laughing one is when the cow put her head in the window. +We tell him we'll have them framed and hung up so he can see just how he +looks. Mother says 't is all very well to laugh at Tommy, but she +guesses some older ones' pictures wouldn't always look smiling and +pleasant, take them the year through! + +[Illustration] + +As soon as your finger is itself again do write, for we miss your +letters. We expect to have gay times here this summer. Company coming, +but we sha' n't make company of them. Except to have splendid times. +What shall we do evenings? If you go anywhere where there is anything +going on, do write us about it, so we can go on the same way. When are +you coming? Write me a good long letter when you can. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + +Your father is going to write you a letter. Quite wonderful for him. O +William Henry, you don't know how much I think of your father, and what +a good man he is! I guess you'd better write to your grandmother before +you do me; she's so pleased to have you write to her. + +Father wants to know when that ball hit you if you _bawled_. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Maria's "picture-taker" made a great deal of fun for them, and +possibly did some good. She constructed a queer long-handled affair, +and, at the most unexpected moments, this would be thrust before the +faces of different members of the family, more especially Tommy, +Matilda, or Georgiana, and their "pictures" would be sure to appear to +them soon after, "glad, or mad, or sad, or any way." + +And the plan of "summer boarders" also furnished entertainment. The talk +on this subject was quite amusing, particularly when it touched the +subject of "advertising." Lucy Maria suggested this ending:-- + +"None but the silly, or the really well-informed need apply." But Mr. +Carver thought such a notice would fail of bringing a single boarder. +For silly people did not know they were silly, and the really +well-informed were the very last ones to think themselves so. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR AUNT PHEBE,-- + +I thank you for taking your time to write to me, when you have so much +work to do. My forefinger has about recovered the use of itself. The +middle one did go lame a spell, but now 't is very well, I thank you. +Mrs. Wedding Cake did them up for me. I think she's a very kind woman. +Dorry says he'd put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes, or lay +down his life, if she wanted him to, or anything else, for the only +woman he knows that will smile on boys' mud and on boys' noise. + +Ten of us went on an excursion with the teacher, half-price, to Boston, +and had a long ride in the cars, over forty miles. We went everywhere, +and saw lots of things. Went into the Natural History building. You can +go in for nothing. You stand on the floor, at the bottom and look way up +to the top. All round inside are galleries running round, with alcoves +letting out of them, where they keep all sorts of unknown beasts and +birds and bugs and snakes. Some of those great birds are regular +smashers! 'Most dazzles your eyes to look at their feathers, they're +such bright red! I'd just give a guess how tall they were, but don't +believe I'd come within a foot or two. Also butterflies of every kind, +besides skeletons of monkeys and children and minerals and all kinds of +grasses and seeds, and nuts there such as you never cracked or thought +of! They are there because they are seeds, not because they are nuts. +And there's a cast of a great ugly monster, big as several elephants, +that used to walk round the earth before any men lived in it. If he +wasn't a ripper! Could leave his hind feet on the ground and put his +fore paws up in the trees and eat the tops off! They call him a +Megotharium! I hope he's spelt right, though he ought not to expect it, +and I don't know as it makes much difference, seeing he lived thousands +of years before the flood, and lucky he did, Dorry says, for the old ark +couldn't have floated with many of that sort aboard. He wasn't named +till long after he was dead and buried. Patient waiter is no loser, +Dorry says, for he's got more name than the ones that live now, and is +taken more notice of. We saw a cannon-ball on the side of Brattle Street +Church, where 't was fired in the Revolution, and we went to the top of +the State House. Made our knees ache going up so many steps, but it +pays. For you can look all over the harbor, and all round the country, +and see the white towns, and steeples, for miles and miles. Boston was +built on three hills and the State House is on one of them. I can't +write any more, now. + +W. B. has left school, because his father got a place for him in New +York. His father thought he was old enough to begin. He's a good deal +older than I am. + +From your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +[Illustration] + +How do you like this picture of that great Mego--I won't try to spell +him again--eating off the tree-tops? The leaves on the trees then were +different from the ones we have now. Dorry made the leaves, and I made +the creature. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter to William Henry from his Father._ + +MY DEAR SON,-- + +Perhaps you have thought that because I am rather a silent man, and do +not very often write you a letter, that I have not very much feeling and +do not take interest in you. But no one knows how closely I am watching +my boy as Time is bringing him up from boyhood to manhood. + +Sometimes your grandmother worries about your being where there may be +bad boys; but I tell her that among so many there must be both good and +bad, and if you choose the bad you show very poor judgment. I think if a +boy picks out bad companions it shows there is something bad in himself. + +She says I ought to keep giving you good advice, now you are just +starting in life, and charge you to be honest and truthful and so forth. +I tell her that would be something as it would be if you were just +starting on a pleasant journey, and I should say, "Now, William Henry, +don't put out your own eyes at the beginning, or cut the cords of your +legs!" Do you see what I mean? A boy that is _not_ honest and truthful +puts out his own eyes and cripples himself at the very beginning. + +There is a good deal said about arriving at honor and distinction. I +don't want you to think about _arriving_ at honor. I want you to take +honor to start with. And as for distinction, a man, in the long run, is +never distinguished for anything but what he really is. So make up your +mind just what you want to pass for, and be it. For you will pass for +what you are, not what you try to appear. Go into the woods and see how +easily you can tell one tree from another. You see oak leaves on one, +and you know that is oak all the way through. You see pine needles on +another, and you know that is pine all the way through. A pine-tree may +want to look like an oak, and try to look like an oak, and think it does +look like an oak, as it can't see itself. But nobody is cheated. So a +rascally fellow may want to appear fair and honest, and try to appear +fair and honest, and think he does appear fair and honest, as he can't +see himself. But, in the long run, nobody is cheated. For you can read a +man's character about as easy as you can the leaves on the trees. +Sometimes I sit down in a grocery store and hear the neighbors talked +about, and 't is curious to find how well everybody is known. It seems +as if every man walked round, labelled, as you may say, same as preserve +jars are labelled, currant, quince, &c. Only he don't know what his +label is. Just as likely as not a man may think his label is Quince +Marmelade, when 't is only Pickled String Beans! + +Just so with boys. Grown folks notice boys a great deal, though when I +was a boy, I never knew they did. The little affairs of play-time and +school-time, and their home-ways are all talked over, and by the time a +boy is twelve years old, it is pretty well known what sort of a man he +will make. + +Now don't mistake my meaning. I don't want you to be true because +people will know it if you are not, but because it is right and noble to +be so. I want you to be able to respect yourself. Never do anything that +you like yourself any the less for doing. + +A boy of your age is old enough to be looking ahead some, to see what he +is aiming at. I don't suppose you want to drift, like the sea-weed, that +lodges wherever the waves toss it up! Set up your mark, and a good high +one. And be sure and remember that, as a general thing, there is no such +thing as luck. If a man seems to be a lucky merchant, or lawyer, or +anything else, 't is because he has the talent, the industry, the +determined will, that make him so. People see the luck, but they don't +always see the "taking pains" that's behind it. I remember you wrote us +a letter once, and spoke of a nice house, with nice things inside, that +you meant to have by "trying hard enough." There's a good deal in that. +We've got to try hard, and try long, and try often, and try again, and +keep trying. That house never'll come down to you. You've got to climb +up to it, step by step. I don't know as I have anything to say about the +folly of riches. On the contrary, I think 't is a very good plan to have +money enough to buy books and other things worth having. I don't see why +a man can't be getting knowledge and growing better, at the same time he +is growing richer. Some poor folks have a prejudice against rich folks. +I haven't any. Rich people have follies, but poor people copy them if +they can. That is to say, we often see poor people making as big fools +of themselves as they can, with the means they have. Money won't hurt +you, Billy, so long as you keep common sense and a true heart. + +We are all watching you and thinking of you, here at home. If you +_should_ go wrong 't would be a sad blow for both families. Perhaps I +ought to tell you how I feel towards you, and how, ever since your +mother's death, my heart has been bound up in you and Georgie. You would +then know what a crushing thing it would be to me if you were found +wanting in principle. But I am not very good, either at talking or +writing, so do remember, dear boy, that even when I don't say a word, +I'm thinking about you and loving you always. God bless you! + +From your affectionate + +FATHER. + +W. B., it seems, from his own account, set sail on the great sea of +commerce with flying colors, and favorable winds,--probably the +Trade-winds. + + * * * * * + +_Old Wonder Boy to William Henry._ + +DEAR FRIEND,-- + +I like my place, and think it is a very excellent one. It is "Veazey & +Summ's." When you get a place it is my advice that you should procure +one in New York, as New York is greatly superior to Boston. Boston is a +one-horse place. I wouldn't be seen riding in that slow coach. +Washington Street could be put whole into Broadway, and not know it was +there hardly, for you could travel both sides and all round it. Our +store is a very excellent store. Some consider it greatly superior to +Stewart's. All our clerks dress in very superior style and go in very +good society, and so I learn to use very good language. We keep boys to +do the errands, and porters. All the stylish people do their trading +here. The young ladies like to trade with me very much. The New York +ladies are greatly superior to any other ladies. The firm think a great +deal of me, so I expect to be promoted quite fast. I am learning to +smoke. I have got a very handsome pipe. The head clerk thinks it has got +a very superior finish to it. We two are quite thick. How are all the +fellers? Write soon. Remember me to all inquiring friends, and excuse +handwriting. + +Your friend, + +WALTER BRIESDEN. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Matilda._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +Now I'm going to answer your letter, and then I sha' n't have to think +about it any longer. I was sorry to hear about poor Reddie. But if it +had been Tommy, then it would have been a great deal worse. Think of +that. Dorry and I have been wishing 'most a week about something, and +now I'll tell you what 't is about. About a party. 'T is going to be at +Colonel Grey's. He lives in a large light-colored brick house, with a +piazza round it, and a fountain, and bronze dogs, and everything lovely. +It is Maud Grey's birthday party. Sixteen years old. Old and young are +going to be invited, because her little sister's birthday comes next day +to hers. Now sometimes when there's a party some of the biggest of our +fellows get invited, because there are not very many young gentlemen in +town, and they are glad to take some from the school. But we two never +have yet. But Dorry thinks we stand a better chance now, for we've been +to dancing-school, and will do to fill up sets with. Maud Grey didn't +go as a scholar, but she went spectator sometimes, and took my partner's +place once, when her string of beads broke. Dorry was in the same set. I +never polkaed better in my life, for she took me round and made me keep +time whether I wanted to or not, but I told Dorry I felt just like a +little boy that had been lifted over a puddle. He's afraid she won't +remember us, but I guess I'm afraid she will, and then won't invite such +a bad dancer. We two thought we'd walk by the house, just for fun, and +make ourselves look tall. So we held up our chins, and swung two little +canes we'd cut, going along, for small chaps are plenty enough, but +young gentlemen go off to college, or stores, soon's they're of any +size. The blinds were all shut up, but Dorry said there was hope if the +slats were turned the right way. Blind slats here move all ways. +Yesterday, in school-time, I saw a colored man coming towards the +school-house, and thought 't was Cicero, the one that works for Colonel +Grey, coming with the invitations, and made a loud "hem!" for Dorry to +look up, and a hiss, to mean Cicero, and pointed out doors. 't wasn't +very loud, but that one we call Brown Bread, that has eyes in the back +of his head, and ears all over him, and smells rat where there isn't +any, and wears slippers, so you can't hear him, even if 'tis still +enough to drop a pin,--I thought he was over the other side of the room, +tending to his own affairs, but all of a sudden he was standing just +back of me, and I had to lose a recess just for that. And 't wasn't +Cicero after all, but the one that comes after the leavings.--(Somebody +knocks.) + +_Afternoon._--Hurrah! We're going! The one that knocked at the door was +Spicey, with our invitations. When I come home I'll bring them home to +show. They came through the post-office. We expect they all came to the +professor, with orders to pick out the ten tallest ones, for they are +directed in his writing. I never went to such a party, and shouldn't +know how to behave, if 't wasn't for Dorry. First thing you do is to go +up and speak to the lady of the house and the lady of the party. I mean +after you've been up stairs, and looked in the looking-glass and +smoothed down your hair. Mine always comes up again. I've tried water +and I've tried oil, and I've tried beef-marrow, but 't is bound to come +up. Dorry says I ought to put it in a net. Don't you remember that time +I had my head shaved off close, and how it looked like an orange? I'm +glad 't isn't so red as it was. 'T is considerable dark now. When you +come down you walk up to the lady of the house and say "How do you do?" +and shake hands, and when you go home you have to bid her good-night, +and say you've had a very pleasant time, and shake hands again. Not +shove out your fist, as if you were shoving a croquet-ball, but slow, +with the fingers about straight, and not speak it out blunt, as if you +were singing out "good-night!" to the fellers, but quite softly and +smiling. Dorry's been showing me beforehand. Bubby Short stood up in the +floor, and had the bedspread tied round him with a cod-line, for a +trail, and shavings for curls. He was the lady of the house and we +walked up to him, and said, "How do you do, Mrs. Grey?" and so forth. +Dorry drew this picture of us. He draws better than I do. I will write +about the party. + +[Illustration] + +From your Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Now if you will be a good little grandmother, and promise never to worry +any more, then I'll tell you about that party. We had to wear white +gloves. I'll begin at the outside. The piazzas had colored lights +hanging round them, and there were colored lights hung in the trees and +the gateways. 'T was a foggy night, and those colored lights lighted up +the fog all around, so when you came towards the place it looked just +like a great bright spot in the midst of darkness. There was a tall +lady, standing in the middle of the room, with a splendid dress on, +dragging way behind her, and I went right up to her, and just got my +foot the way Mr. Tornero told us, and the palm of my hand right, when +Dorry jerked me back by my jacket and said she wasn't the right one. +You see we got belated, going back after our clean pocket-handkerchiefs, +and hurried so that Dorry fell down and muddied his trousers' knees, but +lucky 't was close to the Two Betseys' shop, for we went in there and +got sponged up, but we had to wait for 'em to dry. Lame Betsey said she +used to take care of Maud Grey when she was a little scrap, and she +wanted to make her a birthday present. So they both hunted round, to see +if they had anything. In the desk they found a little thin book, a +funny-looking old blue-covered book, "Advice to a Young Lady," that was +given to Lame Betsey when she was young. The title was on the blue +cover. 'T was a funny-looking thing and it smelt snuffy. She asked me to +give it to Maud, after she'd written her name in it. I tell you now Lame +Betsey makes quite good letters! I didn't want to take the book, but I +did, for both Betseys are clever women. + +[Illustration] + +All this was the reason we got belated, and Mrs. Grey had got mixed up +with the other people, but we found her and did the right thing by her. +And Maud too. I don't think any of you would believe that I could +behave so well! so polite I mean. Course I didn't feel bashful any! O +no! + +They had four pieces, and they played as if they knew how. I didn't +dance at the first of it. Didn't dare to. 'T was too light there. The +carpets were covered with white. Then chandeliers, and lamps, and wax +candles, and flowers everywhere they could be, set up in vases,--one +lady called vases, varzes,--and hanging-baskets. I never was in such a +beautiful place. The ladies sang at the piano, and the young gentlemen +turned their leaves over. O you ought to 've heard 'em when the tunes +went up, up, up! Enough to make you catch your breath! Seemed as if it +could never get down again. I don't like that kind. But Dorry said 'twas +opera style and nobody was to blame but me, if I didn't like it. Now +John Brown's Body, I like that, and when they all sang that, I joined +right in, same as any of them. For I knew I knew that tune. But first +one looked round at me, and then another looked round at me, as if +something was the matter. I thought I saw 'em smiling. Then I kept +still. But I didn't know I was singing wrong. O, I do wish I knew what +this singing is! Seems easy enough. Now when the tune goes up loud, I go +up loud, and when that goes down low, I go down low. But Dorry says it +isn't singing. Says 'tis discord. But I can't tell discord from any +other cord, and he says the harder I try, the worse noise I make. I do +wish I could roar out that Glory Hallelujah! for I feel the tune inside +of me, but it never comes out right. Dorry laughs when I set out to +sing. He says I chase the tune up and down all the way through, and +never hit it! Now, if 't is right inside, why can't it come out right? I +don't see! + +We went into a large room to eat refreshments, and I wish Aunt Phebe +could see the things we had. And taste of them too. I saved the frosting +off my cake for Tommy. 'T is wrapped up in a paper in my trunk. 'T is +different from your frosting, good deal harder. I had a sort of funny +time in that room. Somebody had to hit my elbow when I was passing +custard to a girl, and joggled over a mess of it on to her white dress +and my trousers. I whipped out my pocket-handkerchief to sop it up, and +whipped out that little blue book. Somebody picked it up, and one young +man, that had been cutting up all the evening, Maud Grey's cousin, he +got hold of it and read her name and called out to her to come get her +present, and made a good deal of fun about it, and began to read it +loud. She wanted to know who brought it, and somebody told her I was the +one. I began to grow red as fire, but all of a sudden I thought, Now, +Billy, what's the use? So I said very plain, "Miss Grey, Lame Betsey +sent you that book." She didn't laugh very much, only smiled and asked +me to tell Lame Betsey she was glad that she remembered her. Guess she +thought I looked bashful, for afterwards she asked me if I wouldn't try +a polka with her. I don't think she's very proud, for when I was looking +at a painted vase, she came and told me how it was done, for all I +wasn't much acquainted with her. She talked to me as easy and sociable +as if she'd been Lucy Maria. + +A company of us got together in one of the rooms and ate our ice-creams +there, and while we were eating them, we beheaded words. Lucy Maria must +read this letter, for she'll want to know how. When you behead a word +you take off the first letter. It's fun, when you get beheading them +fast. The spelling mustn't be changed. Dorry made some of these. I +didn't. I couldn't think fast enough. + +Behead an article of dress, and you leave a farming tool. + +Shoe--hoe. + +I'll put the rest of the answers at the bottom, so as to give all of you +a chance to guess what they are. + +1. Behead what leads men to fight, and you leave the cause of much +misery, sin, and death. + +2. Behead what young ladies are said to be fond of, and you leave a +young lady. + +3. Behead what comes nearest the hand, and you leave what comes nearest +the heart. + +4. Behead something sweet, and it leaves an address to the sweet. + +5. Behead part of a coach, and you leave part of yourself. Behead that, +and you leave a fish. + +6. Behead a rogue, and you leave a musician. + +7. Behead an old-fashioned occupation, and you leave what prevents many +a parting. + +8. Behead a part of ladies' apparel, and you leave what is higher than +the king. + +9. Behead what always comes hard, and you leave what makes things go +easy. + +10. Behead a weapon, and you leave a fruit. Behead that, and you leave +part of the body. + + 1. Drum, rum. + 2. Glass, lass. + 3. Glove, love. + 4. Molasses, O Lasses! + 5. Wheel, heel, eel. + 6. Sharper, harper. + 7. Spin, pin. + 8. Lace, ace. + 9. Toil, oil. + 10. Spear, pear, ear. + +Sometimes they make them in rhyme. + + Behead what is born in the fire, + And lives but a moment or so,-- + For it can't live long you know,-- + And you leave what all admire. + Where grass so green doth grow, + And trees in many a row. + Behead this last, and you leave in its place + What once preserved the human race. + +Spark, park, ark. + + Behead a musical term so sweet, + And you leave what runs without any feet. + Behead again, and, sad to tell, + You leave what is sick and never gets well. + To what is left add the letter D, + And you have a lawyer of high degree. + +Trill, rill, ill, "LL D." + +I've got something a good deal funnier to tell, but I'm going to write +all about that in Lucy Maria's letter. I guess she'll be very glad when +she gets that letter, for 'twill tell her how to do something very +funny. I will send her the story of it too, so she won't have to make up +anything herself. Don't you think I had a pretty good time? I hope my +sister is well, and hope you all are. Lucy Maria must read this letter. +She could make those beheadings quicker'n lightning. I am well. Don't +believe I shall ever be sick. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I've been to a lecture on good health. The man said there were two +parts to the air, a good part and a poison part, and every time we +breathe we keep in the good part, and breathe out the poison part. So if +a room were sealed up, air-tight, a man living in it would soon die, for +he would use up all the good part and leave the poison part. So we ought +to always let fresh air in, that hasn't been breathed. He says in a +crowded room, if there is no fresh air coming in, we have to use over +what other folks have breathed, whether they are sick or well. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +What with our young friend's frequent visits to the Two Betseys, his +attendance at the dancing-school, and going to parties and to lectures, +it would seem as though his time was not wholly taken up with his +studies. Among William Henry's letters to Lucy Maria I find the +following one about the Dwarf, and with it, in Lucy Maria's handwriting, +I find a copy of the Narrative alluded to. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Lucy Maria._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +I guess you will want to know how this was done, that I'm going to write +about, so I will tell you about it, then you will know how to make one +out of Tommy, but I guess a bigger boy would be better. It doesn't make +much difference about the size, if he can keep a sober face while +somebody tells a story about him, and do the things he's told to. I +couldn't guess how 't was done till Bubby Short told me. Bubby Short was +the dwarf. He was invited on purpose, because he is up to all kinds of +fun, and can act dialogues, be an old man, or old woman, or anything you +want him to. I will tell you exactly how 't was done, so you will know. +And I will send you the Narrative to copy. But you can't keep it very +long. It was given to Bubby Short. The showman was Maud Grey's cousin. +He was dressed in a turban, with long robes, and he had black rings made +round his eyes, and his face was tatooed with a lead-pencil. Course he +made up the story and made the pictures to it too. But he pretended he +got them in the dwarf's country, that was named "Empskutia." I thought +maybe you'd like to read it, then if you made one you could think of +something to say. 'T was only meant for the little ones, he said, but we +all liked to hear it. No matter if it was nonsense, we didn't care. Now, +I'll begin. + +First, they had a table, with a long table-cloth on it that touched the +floor. It must touch the floor, so as to hide the _real_ feet of the one +that's going to be the dwarf. When Bubby Short was all ready he sat down +to the table, same as if he'd been doing his examples or eating his +dinner,--sat facing the company and waited for the curtain to rise. +Course you have to have a curtain. The table-cloth covered the lower +part of him. His own hands and arms were turned into feet and legs for +the dwarf. I'll tell you how. The arms had little trousers on them, and +the hands were put into nice little button-boots, so they looked like +legs and feet. He was all stuffed out above his waist, and had on a +stiff shirt bosom, and breastpin, and necktie, and false whiskers, and a +wig made of black curled hair, and a tasselled cap, with a gilt band +round it. He crooked his arms at the elbows and laid them flat on the +table, with the button-boots towards the curtain, so when the curtain +went up it looked like a little dwarf sitting down, facing the company. +Now I must tell you where the dwarf's arms and hands came from. For you +know that Bubby Short's arms and hands were made into legs and feet for +the dwarf. Now to make arms, he had on a little coat, with the sleeves +of it stuffed out to look like arms, and then a stuffed pair of white +cotton gloves was sewed on to the sleeves, to look like hands, and these +gloves were pinned together by the fingers in front of his waist so as +to look like clasped hands. + +The showman asked him to do different things. Asked him to try to stand +up. Then Bubby Short began to get up, very slow, as if 't was tough work +to do it, and let his arms straighten themselves down, and looked just +as if there was a little short fellow standing on the table. I thought +like enough you'd like to know how, so as to make one some time, out of +Tommy or some bigger boy that knows how to whistle. The showman made his +dwarf whistle a funny tune, and told us 't was an air of his native +country. Then made him step out the tune with his little button-boots, +and it seemed just like a little dancing dwarf. The showman said that +was the national dance of his country. I guess Uncle Jacob would like to +see one. I guess his eyes would twinkle. + +When the curtain went up you ought to 've heard the folks roar! Some of +them thought 't was real. When the company asked him if he could move +his arms, he shook his head, no. Then the showman said he could make him +do it, by whispering a charm in his ear. So he went close up and +whispered, and took out the pin that pinned the gloves, in a secret way, +and then the arms dropped apart. All the way he could move his arms was +by shaking his body, and then only a little. The showman said the +fearful accident that stopped his growth lost him the use of his arms, +though he could dance and whistle and make a bow [_here he made him make +a bow_], and could scratch his ear with his boot [_here he scratched his +ear with the button-boot-toe_], but his brain was strong as anybody's. +Then afterwards he told how much he knew. But you can read about it in +the Narrative. He made him crook his knees sideways. He could do this +easy enough, for 't was only the elbows bending outwards. Then he made +him sit down again. I don't believe any of you ever saw anything so +funny. The showman kept a very sober face all the time, and 'most made +us believe every word of his story was true, and at the end he spoke +very loud and acted it out, like an orator. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Will you please send back the picture of that creature we sent you +once? We want to do something with it. I put in the Narrative some of +the things the audience did. + + +NARRATIVE. + +MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-- + +Hyladdu Alizamrald, the unfortunate gentleman now before you, was born +in the country of Empskutia, on the borders of the great unknown region +of Phlezzogripotamia, which lies beyond the sources of the river +Phlezzra. He was the only child of a nobleman, whose wealth was +unbounded, and whose power was immense. The day of his birth was made a +day of rejoicing throughout the city. Not only were fountains of wine +set flowing, that none might go athirst (for the Empskutians are driest +when they're happiest), but living fountains of milk also, that every +child might, on that happy day, drink its fill of the pure infantine +fluid. It is perhaps needless to remark that these last were cows, +driven in from the surrounding plains. + +Hyladdu was an infant of great promise, and bade fair to become the +pride of his native land, instead of being--of being--pardon my emotion. +[_Showman puts handkerchief to his eyes. Hyladdu wipes away a tear with +his boot-toe._] Yes, gentlemen and ladies [_calmer_], at his birth there +seemed to be no reason why Hyladdu's head should not rise as far towards +the clouds as will yours, my smiling young friends before me. Briefly, +he was not born a dwarf. Shall I relate how this sweet flower of promise +was nipped in the bud? [_The audience cry, "Yes! yes!" Hyladdu takes his +handkerchief in both boots and wipes his eyes._] + +Listen, then. When Hyladdu had reached the age of eighty-one +days--eighty-one being the third multiple of three--his parents, +according to the custom of the country, summoned to the cradle of the +young child a Thulsk. + +The Thulski are a tall, mysterious race of prophets, known only in +Empskutia, who attain to an unknown age. Many of them cannot even +remember their own boyhood. These prophets are reverenced by all the +people. As year after year is added to their life, they grow thin, dark, +and shrivelled, like mummies. The skin is dry and hangs loose about the +bones. The hair is long and white, and every year adds to its length and +its whiteness, while the eyes seem blacker and more piercing. They wear +very high black caps, square, and carry in the hand a peculiar flower, a +snow-white flower, having five petals, which grows in secret places, and +which, even if found, no other person ever dare to pluck, lest its +peculiar smell should work a charm upon them. None but the Thulski +themselves know when and where the Thulski die. If they have graves they +are unknown graves, though it is a common belief in the country that the +mysterious white-petalled flower blooms only in their burial-places. +During life they live apart from all others, seldom speaking, even when +mingled in the busy crowd. + +The order of the Thulski is kept up in this way. Their chief, clad in +long dark robes, wanders silently the streets, and when, among the +children at play, he discovers one who has some peculiar mark about +him,--the nature of this mark is unknown,--he beckons, and the child +follows him. Must follow him. For that silent beckoning joins him to +their order. He is from that moment a Thulsk, and has no wish to +escape. + +Now, although to be a Thulsk is to be certain of long life, yet no +mother desires this fate for her child, but, on the contrary, children +are warned against them, and have among themselves a secret sign, a +rapid motion of the fingers, which means "scatter!" And if, when they +are at play, the white-haired prophet is seen, though even at a great +distance, this sign is rapidly made, and the little flock disappears so +instantly, one would suppose the earth had swallowed them. You will see, +before my melancholy story is finished, what all this has to do with +Hyladdu's misfortune. + +As I was saying, when he had attained the age of eighty-one +days,--eighty-one being the third multiple of three,--his parents, +according to the custom of the Empskutians, summoned one of these +prophets to the cradle of their child, that his fortunes might be +foretold. + +The weird, shrivelled old Thulsk, with his flowing white hair, wrapped +his dark robes about him, and sat silently at the low cradle, gazing +upon the sleeping child. At length he arose, with a look of sorrow, and +would have departed without uttering a single word. + +"Speak! speak!" cried the father. + +"Ah, do not speak!" murmured the mother; for she perceived that the +prophet foresaw evil. "Yet speak, yes, speak!" she cried. "Let us know +the worst, that we may prepare ourselves." + +The prophet then made a reply, of which these five words are a +translation:-- + +"Sorrow cometh sufficiently soon. Wait!" + +But, on being very earnestly entreated, he disclosed that before the +beautiful infant attained his sixth year--six being the double of +three--he would sustain injuries from a fall, by which either his mind +or his body would be blighted. Which, it was not given him to say. He +added that it grieved him to still further disclose that he himself +would be in some way connected with the child's misfortune, though in +what way even his prophetic vision could not foresee. + +Now it may readily be supposed that the parents spared no pains to ward +off from their child this unknown danger. The upper windows were +immediately fastened down, fresh air being secured by means of hinges on +each square of glass. As soon as he could walk sentinels were placed at +every flight of stairs, and to keep him out of the cellar, a neighboring +wine-merchant was invited to store his goods there, so that wine-butts +took up every inch of room, from floor to ceiling. Ladders and movable +steps he was not allowed the sight of, and as it seems as natural for +boys to climb trees as to breathe the air around them, every tree in the +grounds was protected by sharp iron teeth. + +The longing which every boy has to climb is called the climbing +instinct. In Hyladdu the climbing instinct was nipped in the +bud,--smothered, crushed, kept under. He was forbidden to swing on +gates, taught to avoid fence-posts, lamp-posts, and flag-staffs, and to +look upon hills as summits of danger. Of shinning, he knew but the name. +And that the very idea of climbing might be kept from his mind, all +climbing plants were rooted out from the grounds; not even a +morning-glory was allowed to run up a string! By these means the anxious +parents hoped to prevent what the Thulsk had foretold, from coming to +pass. "For," said they, "if he never goes up, he can never fall down." +But mark now how all these precautions were the very means of making the +prophecy prove true. For, had he only been taught to climb, and had been +accustomed to high places, that sad accident might not have taken place +and the blighted individual before you might now have been one of the +flowers of his country! [_Emotion._] Pardon me, friends. Tears come +unbidden. [_Showman holds handkerchief to his eyes. Dwarf ditto, with +boots._] + +Imagine now the dear child, grown a beautiful boy of five summers,--a +boy of beaming blue eyes, and a rosy cheek! of flaxen curls and a +graceful motion! The idol of his parents, the joy of his friends! Sweet +in disposition, of tender feelings, quick to learn, truthful, +affectionate, gentle in his manners, winning in his ways, no wonder that +he was so well beloved! + +It was only one short week before his sixth birthday, and his friends +were trembling with joy, that the fatal time had so nearly passed, when +the calamity which had so long hung over him like a cloud descended upon +him like a thunderbolt! In other words, he lacked but a week of six, and +all were rejoicing that the danger was nearly passed, when the event +happened. + +Hyladdu, being, like most boys, of a playful turn of mind, was sometimes +permitted to join in the games of other children, in front of his +father's mansion, attended always by a faithful servant. On this +particular day they were amusing themselves by playing with some +silver-coated marbles, a box of which had been presented to Hyladdu by +his grandmother, who was one of the court ladies. + +A very pretty group they were. The children of that country, like their +fathers, were dressed in long white robes, with bright sashes. On their +heads they wore caps of blue or scarlet, which turned up with points +before, behind, and at each side. On each point a little silver bell was +hung, that the servants might have less difficulty in following them +about. Their shoes were pointed at the toes. + +Among those silver marbles was an "alley" of great beauty, glistening +with rubies, and inlaid with pearl. This alley never was played for in +earnest. [_Here the dwarf beckons to the showman, and whispers in his +ear._] He informs me that the laws forbade playing in earnest. I will +now finish as rapidly as possible. + +In the course of the game, this precious "alley" rolled a long distance, +until it came to a brick in the pavement, which was set slanting, or had +become so by a sinking of the ground underneath. This brick gave the +"alley" a turn sideways to the left, and it rolled at last through a +crack in the garden fence, and hid itself in the grass. The servant, in +great haste, darted through the gate in search of it. + +Meanwhile, slowly down the street, though at a distance, a Thulsk was +approaching. It was the same who had nearly six years before sat by +Hyladdu's cradle. He walked silently on, his eyes cast down, his hands +clasped, holding between them the five-petalled flower. One of the boys, +perceiving him, made the sign of warning. Instantly they scattered, like +a flock of pigeons, leaving their little silver-belled caps on the +ground. Hyladdu, seeing the cellar open, would have hidden himself +there, but no space was left between the wine-butts. A much larger boy +seized his hand and pulled him into a strange house, and then, in his +fright, dragged him through long passage-ways, and up seven flights of +stairs; for the Empskutians build their houses to an immense height. +Here they sat down to breathe awhile, and Hyladdu begged the boy to go +for the faithful servant, that he might lead him home. + +Now no sooner was the boy gone than Hyladdu began to look about him, and +presently he discovered a slender staircase going still higher. Having +climbed seven flights with help, he felt no fear in attempting the +eighth alone. This slender staircase conducted him to the roof of the +building. [_Emotion and handkerchief._] Excuse my emotion. But when I +think what might have happened, if something else had not happened to +prevent, when I think that he might have fallen from that immense +height, to be dashed in pieces beneath, I--I--But I will let my story +take its course. + +And now let me tell you that the people of Empskutia were very fond of +the beautiful. The streets were adorned with ornamental trees, and over +the roofs of the houses were trained flowering vines, which ran to the +highest peak of cupola or chimney, and, blooming sweetly there, filled +the whole air with fragrance. It was the custom of the people to place +stout iron hooks along the eaves of their dwellings, from which were +suspended immense flower-pots of various beautiful designs. In these +pots the flowering vines took root and from thence not only climbed the +roof, but trailed gracefully down, thus giving the city a festive +appearance, like a never-ending gala-day. + +When Hyladdu looked out from the top of that last eighth flight, the +long-smothered instinct of climbing burst out like a hidden fire. It +would not be restrained. Ah, now will be seen the folly of crushing that +instinct. Had he only have been accustomed to dizzy heights, made +familiar with danger, how different might have been his fate! +[_Emotion._] + +The instinct of climbing, as I said, was now strong upon him! No sooner +did he perceive that there was still a height to gain than he resolved +to gain that height. Nothing less would satisfy him than sitting astride +the ridgepole, where a pair of bright-feathered birds had built their +nest, and were then feeding their young. He ventured out, made his way +cautiously up, holding on by the vines. Ah, could his parents have seen +him then! + +He arrived at the top, and there, seated on that lofty pinnacle, +surrounded by beautiful flowers, he gazed on the scene below, and +enjoyed a new happiness. For the first time in his life he looked down +from a height! for the first time in his life he gazed abroad over a +wide extended country! + +Such pleasure he had never known, and the faithful servant, anxiously +searching, might have found him there, still enjoying it, but for a +pretty little bluebird, that flew suddenly down and startled him, while +he was gazing at some object far away. This little bird came flying +through the air, and alighted for an instant on the child's head, +thinking perhaps to make its nest in the soft curls, or it might have +thought his rosy lips were cherries. The suddenness with which it came +startled Hyladdu. He trembled, he lost his hold, slipped, then caught +by a vine, it gave way, he slipped again, but, having no skill in +climbing, slipped lower and lower, and would have fallen from the roof +and been dashed in pieces, but for that custom which was mentioned just +now, of suspending large flower-pots from the eaves. It happened that +his course lay directly towards one of these iron hooks. He dropped, +therefore, into the immense flower-pot beneath, where he lay as secure +as a babe in its cradle! + +From this frightful position he was at length rescued by one of the hook +and ladder company of that city, and placed in his mother's arms. His +own arms were nearly paralyzed by his frantic efforts to cling to some +support, so that ever afterwards he could move them but very slightly, +as you perceive. [_Dwarf moves his arms slightly, by shaking his body._] +And though the child's life was spared, yet the terrible fright had the +effect of stopping his growth! Yes, my young friends, Hyladdu never grew +more, except in wisdom! The innocent cause of all this, the poor +sorrowing grandmother, died of remorse! + +And now my story becomes a more pleasing one to tell. Although the +child's body remained dwarfed in size, yet his heart grew in goodness, +and his mind grew in knowledge, and he was beloved and respected by all. +Debarred earthly mountains, he mounted the heights of learning. The +climbing instinct, which his body could not satisfy, was developed in +his mind. He craved books, he craved whole libraries. Teacher after +teacher came, all exhausting upon him their treasures of knowledge. +Music and drawing, studied scientifically, were his amusements. He +mastered astronomy, mineralogy, algebra, conchology, trigonometry, +physiology, engineering, metaphysics, technology, geology, phrenology, +also foreign languages unnumbered, with all the literature belonging to +each. [_Sensation in the audience._] And when at last the storehouses of +wisdom seemed exhausted, a report reached him of a great country beyond +the seas, called the United States of America, in whose excellent +schools there remains something yet to learn! [_Applause from the +audience._] + +He studied the written language of that country, read its history, and +resolved to seek its shores. For he longed to behold the land of the +Revolutionary War; to read the Declaration of Independence, and to stand +upon the grave of Old John Brown! [_Applause._] + +He had heard of Bunker's Hill. Travellers said that upon whomsoever +rested the shadow of its monument, that person possessed forever after +the unflinching bravery of those who bled and perished there! +[_Cheers._] He had heard of Plymouth Rock [_Cheers_], and been told that +his foot once planted firmly upon it, he would feel springing up within +him all the heroism, the self-sacrifice, and the everlasting +perseverance of the glorious Pilgrim Fathers! [_Prolonged cheering._] + +I have now, my young friends, told you, very briefly, the history of +this remarkable character. His age is thirty-four years. He is of a +cheerful disposition, having long ago resolved to look his misfortune +steadily in the face and make the best of it. In books, where are +treasures stored up by the scholars of all past time, he finds a +never-ending pleasure. Though dwarfed in stature, he is resolved to make +a man of himself, and will fight it out on that line if it takes all +summer. For he early adopted for his motto, these beautiful lines of Dr. +Watts,-- + + "Were I so tall as to reach the pole, + Or grasp the ocean in my span, + I should be measured by my soul. + The mind's the standard of the man." + +[_Applause._ + + (_Curtain falls._) + +I once heard the above narrative repeated by Joe in a truly theatrical +manner. On the same occasion I also saw the picture of the "creature" to +which William Henry refers in his postscript to the Dwarf Letter. + +Uncle Jacob hailed me one day as I was coming from my office, and after +driving close to the curbstone, informed me that Cousin Joe and his +accordion had arrived, both in good health and spirits. Also, that +Billy's school had met with a very sudden vacation, caused either by +flues, or furnaces, or both, having something the matter with them, and +the young rascal would be at home that evening, and I must come without +fail. "Of course you know," said he, "'tis a pretty hard thing for Billy +having to give up his studies, so he's coming home to his friends. +Nothing like being among friends when you're in trouble?" + +Now this was by no means a remarkable event. Only a boy coming home for +a few days to see his folks. Still, an occasion which worked Grandmother +up to the pitch of putting on her best cap should not be passed over in +silence. + +I went out to the Farm that evening, and on arriving found Cousin Joe, +and the accordion, and Aunt Phebe's family, with a few relatives whom I +had never met before, all assembled at Grandmother's. They had made up a +fire in the "Franklin fireplace." This "Franklin fireplace" was a sort +of iron framework, projecting from the chimney into the room. The top +was flat, with brass balls on the corners. It had iron sides, which +"flared out," and a rounded iron hearth of its own, about an inch above +the brick hearth, and shining brass andirons. + +No one could wish for a brighter room, I thought, for there was the +light from the fire, the light from the "lights," and the light from all +those smiling faces! An inviting supper-table was set out, covered +dishes were "keeping warm" on the hearth and "frame," and everything was +ready and waiting for William Henry. Mr. Carver had gone to the station, +and they were expected back every moment. + +Georgiana was very busy over a skein of blue sewing-silk. She informed +me that that was the first whole skein of sewing-silk she ever had in +all her life, and that it came from a bundle of all colors, which Cousin +Joe gave to Hannah Jane. It brought trouble with it, as it is said all +earthly possessions do, and snarled at all her attempts to coax it on to +a spool. Tommy, sober as a judge, was holding it for her to wind. He sat +in a little chair, with his legs crossed. His mother said he was very +particular to cross his legs, so as to seem more like a man. + +Lucy Maria had just persuaded Grandmother to put on her best, double +stringed, white-ribboned cap, in honor of William Henry. It was the very +one he brought her so long ago, but was still as good as new, having +very seldom seen the light of day, or of evening, since it first came +home in the bandbox. She had also been coaxed into her second-best +dress, and then into the rocking-chair. Lucy Maria tied her cap under +the chin, with the narrow strings, and smoothed down the wide ones. + +"You have no idea, Grandmother," said she. "You haven't the faintest +idea how well you look!" + +"'T is too dressy for me," said Grandmother. "It don't feel natural on +my head." + +"Now I should think," said Uncle Jacob, "that a cap would feel more +natural on anybody's head than anywhere!" + +"It looks natural," said Lucy Maria, "I'm sure it does. Looks as if it +grew there!" + +"And only think how 't will please Billy!" said Aunt. Phebe. + +[Illustration] + +The "_Map of the United States_" had been brought out of the front room, +and placed over the mantel-piece. And Lucy Maria, for fun, she said, and +to pay a delicate compliment to the artist, had fastened a few sprays of +upland cranberry around it. And, also, for fun, she pinned up near it a +little picture, which I had quite a laugh over, and which, she said, was +the renowned Megotharium, in the act of feeding drawn by the famous +artist, William Henry, assisted by his brother artist, Dorry. The +picture, she added, was not an _original_, but merely a copy done by a +female. A photograph of these two artists, sitting side by side, was +exhibited, underneath the picture. + +Cousin Joe said that _creature_ beat all his going to sea. This young +tailor, by the way, must have made a jolly shipmate. He was full of his +jokes and his tricks. Tried to twirl Tommy round, by rubbing him between +his two hands, as one does a top, telling him that was the way the +Hottentots did to take the mischief out of boys! + +Aunt Phebe said she thought if the Hottentots knew any way of taking the +mischief out of boys, and were out of work, they might find employment +in this country. + +Tommy begged to play "one tune," and was allowed to. Cousin Joe declared +that "that accordion was played every wave of the way across the +Atlantic," either by himself or by one of the sailors, and that +sometimes the mermaids sang to its music! Asked Tommy if he would like +to bear the tune the mermaids sang? Tommy said he should rather wait +till after supper. This was the way in which, company being present, the +young chap let it be known that he was hungry. + +Grandmother wondered, then, why they didn't come, and went to look out +of the window, putting up both hands, to keep the light of the room from +her eyes; then opened the outside door, to listen for the whistle; then +went to look at the kitchen clock; then came back, saying it was a good +deal past the time, and what could be the matter? + +She little knew who was behind, following her on tiptoe into the room. +William Henry himself! He was creeping in at the sink room door, just as +she turned to come back from looking at the clock, and followed softly +behind. She didn't notice how very smiling we all looked. Billy shook +his finger at us, to hush us. + +"I hope there hasn't anything happened to the cars," said she. + +"I hope so too!" shouted Billy. And, by a miraculous jump, he planted +himself, square foot, in front of his grandmother, who, of course, +walked straight into his arms! + +Then everybody shouted, and clapped, and shook hands, and kissed. The +cap got twisted about, and as if there were not confusion enough, Cousin +Joe began to caper about, and to play on his accordion tunes that were +never played before! + +Such a splendid fellow as Billy was! Such a hearty, laughing, breezy +fellow, with his thick head of hair, "not so red as it was," and his +honest, good-natured face! I didn't wonder they were all so glad to see +him. + +"Welcome home, shipmate!" shouted Cousin Joe. "Welcome home! How long'll +you be in port?" And worked away at Billy's hand as if he'd been pumping +out ship. + +"'Most a week," said Billy. "Mind my forefinger." + +"Don't take long to stay at home a week," said Cousin Joe, tossing up +his accordion. + +"That's so," said Uncle Jacob. "Come, let's be doing something!" + +"That means, let's be eating something," said Aunt Phebe. "Come, girls, +put everything on the table! Billy, how tall and spruce you do look! +Poor Grandmother, she's losing her little Billy!" + +"But what's her loss is his gain!" said Uncle Jacob. "I speak to sit +next the frosted cake. Where's Tommy?" + +Tommy came in, tugging Billy's carpet-bag, which he found in the +kitchen, hoping, no doubt, there were goodies inside for him. + +We had a delightful "supper-time," Grandmother, of course, piling +Billy's plate with everything good. + +"I see," said Mr. Carver, "that whatever boys eat at home grandmothers +expect will agree with them!" + +The happy "young rascal" meanwhile bore the separation from his studies +with amazing fortitude! Told no end of funny stories about the boys, and +about parties, and about the Two Betseys. And twice, during supper, he +exclaimed, "I do hope nothing has happened to those cars. They were such +good cars!" + +My visits to the farm were always delightful, but during that +supper-time, and during that evening, I grudged every moment as it flew +away. + +Uncle Jacob was in high glee, and insisted on being taught "the graces," +and on having his wife taught "the graces." Then Lucy Maria "set her +foot down" that every one should stand in the row, and Billy should be +Mr. Tornero. And, being a girl of resolution, she coaxed every one into +line, except Grandmother, who said her rheumatism should do her some +service then, if never before. + +"The graces" were then taught, and learned, amid shouts of laughter, +Cousin Joe playing for us, and I'll venture to say that had Mr. Tornero +been present, he would have been astonished at our steps, and also at +the music! + +Afterwards we had the dwarf shown off, Cousin Joe being the showman. He +declared after looking over the "Narrative," that Empskutia was a place +well known to him, and that he had often sailed up the "river Phlezzra," +to trade with the natives. Lucy Maria dressed him in a large-figured red +and green bedspread, pinned on to look like a loose robe, with flowing +sleeves, and girded about the waist with cords and tassels taken from +Aunt Phebe's parlor curtains. He wore an immense lace collar, and a +turban made of a white muslin handkerchief (one that was Grandmother's +mother's) and besprinkled with artificial flowers. His face was tattooed +with a lead-pencil, and dark circles drawn around his eyes. He held in +his hand a slender rod, or wand. + +The dwarf was a young cousin of William Henry's (not Tommy), and he did +his part well, whistling, bowing, dancing, sneezing, rising, sitting, +with a perfectly sober face. + +The showman then read the "Narrative," adding thereto such ridiculous +incidents, and such comical remarks, that the audience were convulsed +with laughter, and the face of the dwarf twitched alarmingly. These +twitchings, he (the showman) said, were not unusual, and were the +effects of the sad occurrence then being narrated. The closing portions +of the story were declaimed in a powerful voice. He "acted out" the +"pole" and the "span," and at the third line, "I must be measured by my +_soul_," laid his hand upon his heart in the most impressive manner, and +remained in that position till the curtain fell. + +After this "John Brown" was sung, and William Henry was permitted to +roar out that "Glory Hallelujah" as loudly as he pleased. + + * * * * * + +The following letter must have been written some time after William +Henry met with the _affliction_ which was so touchingly alluded to by +Uncle Jacob, as above related, and which that wretched youth felt could +only be endured in the bosom of his family! In the interval it appears +that he had been removed from the Crooked Pond School, and that Dorry +had left also, to finish preparing himself for college in some higher +seminary of learning. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter after leaving School._ + +DEAR DORRY,-- + +I didn't know I was going to come away from school so soon after you +did, but there was a new High School begun in our town about a mile and +a half off, and my father thought I could learn there, and learn to farm +it some too. But I don't think much of farming it. Course 't is fun to +see things grow, after you've planted the seeds, and then watched 'em +all the way up. My grandmother says my father likes his corn so well, +that he pities it in a dry time, and when a gale blows it down he pities +it as much as if he'd been blown down himself. Weeds are enough to make +a feller mad, coming up fast as you kill 'em and sucking all the +goodness out of the ground that don't belong to them. Suppose they think +'t is as much theirs as anybody's. + +I suppose you are studying away for college. I don't know whether I wish +I could go or not. I guess my head wouldn't hold all 't would have to be +put into it before I went, and in all that four years too! Now I want to +know if a feller can remember all that? I mean remember the beginning +after all the other has been piled top of it? I don't know what I shall +be yet. For there is something bad about everything, Grandmother says, +and I believe it. Now I don't want to be a farmer, because 't is hard +work and poor pay,--in these parts. I guess I should like to go to +Kansas. But there are the Indians after your scalp, and fever and ague, +and grasshoppers, and potato-bugs, and bean-bugs, and army-worms to eat +up everything, and droughts to dry up everything, and floods to wash it +away, and hurricanes to blow it down, and Uncle Jacob says if a man +comes through all these alive, with a few grains of corn, the man that +wants to buy 'em is a hundred miles off! But my father says, what is a +man good for that don't dare to go to sail without 't is on a mill-pond! +For smooth water can't make a sailor. And if a man is scared of lions, +how will he get through the woods. So I don't know yet what I shall be. +What should you, if you did n' go to college? Go into a store? I tell +you, Dorry, that if I was a dry-goods clerk, fenced in behind a counter, +I do believe I should ache to jump over and _put_ for somewhere and go +to doing something. But my father says you can't always tell a man by +what his business is. For you've got to allow for head work. And because +he sells shoe-strings, 't is no sign he hasn't got anything in his head +but shoe-strings; and because a man drives nails, 't is no sign he +hasn't got anything but nails in his head. "Now suppose," says he, "that +a man sells dry goods all day, can't he have some thoughts stowed away +in his brains that he got out of books, or got up himself? And when he's +walking along home and back, and evenings, can't he out with 'em and be +thinking 'em over?" I s'pose 't isn't time for me to have thoughts yet, +s'pose they'll be dropping along in a year or two, "or three at the +most," as Lord Lovell said. One thing I mean to have, and that is a good +house with all the fixings, and money to spend, and money to give away +if I want to. So whatever I get started on, I mean to pitch in and shove +up my sleeves, and go at it. Father says I must be thinking the matter +over, and not make my mind up right off. They say going to sea is a +dog's life. I should like to go long enough to see what Spain looks +like, and China, and other places. Maybe I shall learn a trade. Now, for +instance, a carpenter's. That don't seem much of a trade. Mostly +pounding. But they say if you keep on, and are smart at it, why, you get +to taking houses, and then you are not a carpenter any longer, but a +"builder," and money comes in. + +I'm going to let her rest a spell. Though I'm so old I can't help +looking ahead some sometimes, to see where I'm coming out. + +Didn't you feel homesick any when you were coming away from school? I +did,--"quite some," as W. B. used to say. I went round to all the +places, and paddled in the pond, and lay down on the grass to take one +more drink out of the brook, and climbed up in the Elm, and ran up and +down our stairs much as half a dozen times, without stopping, for I +thought I never should again. + +I whittled a great sliver off the base-ball field fence to fetch away; +didn't we use to have good times there? Bubby Short gave me his +pocket-book, and I gave him mine. They had about equal, inside. I went +to bid Gapper good-by, day before I came off, and gave Rosy my little +penknife. + +Then I went to bid the two Betseys good-by, and they wiped their eyes, +and seemed about as if they'd been my grandmothers, and said I _must_ +come to eat supper with them that afternoon. So I went. Me all alone! +Had a funny kind of a time. We sat at that round, three-legged stand, +and I'll tell you what we had. Bannock and butter, sausages, flapjacks, +and scalloped cakes. All set on in saucers, for there wasn't much room. +They had about supper enough for forty. For they said they knew their +appetites were nothing to judge a hungry boy by, and I must eat a good +deal and not go by them, and kept handing things to me, and every once +in a while they'd say, "Now don't be scared of it, there's more in the +buttery?" George! Dorry, I wish you could have seen that punkin-pie they +had! 'T was kept in a chair, a little ways off. I don't see what 't was +baked in. The Other Betsey said that was just such a kind of a pie as +her mother used to make. I out with my ruler, and asked if I might +measure it. 'T was about two feet across, and about four inches thick. +She said she thought 't was a good time to make one, when they were +going to have company. When I took my piece I had to hold my plate in my +hand, for there wasn't room on the stand. They wished you'd been there, +and so did I, and so would you, if you'd seen that pie. They didn't take +down their best dishes, that we had that other time, but called me one +of the family and used the poor ones. I had to look out about lifting up +the spoon-holder, because the bottom had been off, once, and mind which +sugar-bowl handle I took hold of, for one side it was glued on. But +everything held. I can't bear tea, but they said 't was very warming and +resting, and I'd better. I guess they put in about six spoonfuls of +sugar! They wanted to know all about you, and said you were a smart +fellow. + +They wanted me to take some little thing out of the store, to remember +them by. So I looked and looked to find something that didn't cost very +much, and at last I pitched upon a pocket-comb. The Other Betsey put on +her glasses and scratched a B. on it, and said it could stand for the +two of 'em. But I told her she better make two B.'s, for that would seem +more like the Two Betseys, and she did. Lame Betsey said one B. ought to +go lame, and the Other Betsey said she guessed they both would, for she +had poor eyesight, and her hand shook, and nothing but a darning-needle +to scratch with. If I do break the comb I shall keep the handle, for I +think the Two Betseys are tip-top. I wish they could come and see my +grandmother. Wouldn't the three of 'em have a good time! + +Send a feller a letter once in a while, can't ye? Say, now, you Dorry, +don't get too knowing to write to a feller? + +Your friend, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +At this point the correspondence properly closes. As a faithful editor, +I have endeavored to let it tell its own story, but must frankly +acknowledge that at times, the pleasant memories recalled by these +Letters have tempted me, too far, perhaps, beyond editorial bounds. This +fault I freely confess, hoping to be as freely forgiven. Were it known +how much I have left unsaid, while longing to say it, I should receive +not only forgiveness but praise. + +In closing, I cannot do better than to add to the collection an extract +from a letter written to Mr. Carver by the Principal of the Crooked Pond +School. + +It seems that William Henry's new teacher proposed his taking up Latin, +and that Mr. Carver being somewhat undecided about the matter, wrote to +the Principal of the Crooked School, asking his opinion. The Principal's +reply, in as far as it discusses the Latin question, would scarcely be +in order here. But the closing portion will, I know, be read with +pleasure by all who have taken an interest in William Henry. He speaks +of him thus:-- + + * * * * * + +.... Allow me, sir, in concluding, to congratulate you on the many good +qualities of your son. He is one of the boys that I feel sure of. We +regret exceedingly his leaving us, and I assure you that he carries with +him the best wishes of all here,--teachers, pupils, and townspeople. I +shall watch his course with deep interest. A boy of his manly bearing, +kind disposition, and high moral principle will surely win his way to +all hearts, as he has done to ours. + +With regard to his studies, though not, perhaps, a remarkably brilliant +scholar, he has, on the whole, done well. For the first few months, it +is true, we rather despaired of awakening an interest. He was too fond +of play, too unwilling to come under our pretty strict discipline. +Observing how heartily he entered into all games, and that he excelled +in them, it occurred to us, that if the same ambition and pluck shown on +the playground could be aroused in the schoolroom, our object would be +gained. This, by various means, we have tried to accomplish, and I am +happy to add, with good success. Your son, sir, is a boy to be proud of. + +Very truly yours, + +---- ---- + + * * * * * + +It so happened that I called at the Farm the very day on which this +reply was received, and just as Grandmother had finished reading it. + +As I entered the room she looked up, and without speaking handed me the +letter. Tears stood in her eyes, and I saw that something had touched +her deeply. + +"Any bad news?" I asked. + +"No," she answered, in a tremulous voice. "But to think of that +schoolmaster's finding out what was in that child!" + + + +Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS*** + + +******* This file should be named 34335.txt or 34335.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/3/3/34335 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The William Henry Letters</p> +<p>Author: Abby Morton Diaz</p> +<p>Release Date: November 15, 2010 [eBook #34335]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="371" height="640" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h1>WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS.</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>MRS. A. M. DIAZ.</h2> + +<h4>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" width="125" height="139" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +BOSTON:<br /> +<br /> +FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.<br /> +<br /> +1870.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1870,<br /> +<br /> +BY FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.,<br /> +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co.,<br /> +Cambridge.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Young Friends</span>:—</p> + +<p>Much to my surprise, I was asked one day if I would be willing to edit +the William Henry Letters for publication in a volume.</p> + +<p>At first it seemed impossible for me to do anything of the kind; "for," +said I, "how can any one edit who is not an editor? Besides, I am not +enough used to writing." It was then explained to me that my duties +would simply be to collect and arrange the Letters, and furnish any +little items concerning William Henry and his home which might interest +the reader. It was also hinted, in the mildest manner possible, that I +was not chosen for this office on account of my talents, or my learning, +or my skill in writing; but wholly because of my intimate acquaintance +with the two families at Summer Sweeting place,—for I have at times +lived close by them for weeks together, and have taken tea quite often +both at Grandmother's and at Aunt Phebe's.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>After a brief consideration of the proposal, I agreed to undertake the +task; at the same time wishing a more experienced editor could have been +found.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>My acquaintance with the families commenced just about the time of +William Henry's going to school, and in rather a curious way.</p> + +<p>I was then (and am now) much interested in the Freedmen. While serving +in the Army of the Potomac, I had seen a good deal of them, and was +connected with a hospital in Washington at the time when they were +pouring into that city, hungry and sick, and half-naked. I belonged to +several Freedmen's Societies, and had just then pledged myself to beg a +barrelful of old clothing to send South.</p> + +<p>But this I found was, for an unmarried man, having few acquaintances in +the town, a very rash promise. I had no idea that one barrel could hold +so much. The pile of articles collected seemed to me immense. I wondered +what I should do with them all. But when packed away there was room left +for certainly a third as many more; and I had searched thoroughly the +few garrets in which right of search was allowed me. Even in those, I +could only glean after other barrel-fillers. A great many garrets +yielded up their treasures during the war; for "Old clo'! old clo'!" was +the cry then all over the North.</p> + +<p>Now, as I was sitting one afternoon by my barrel, wishing it were full, +it happened that I looked down into the street, and saw there my +<i>unknown friend</i>, waiting patiently in his empty cart. This <i>unknown +friend</i> was a tall, high-shouldered man, who drove in, occasionally, +with vegetables. There were others who came in with vegetables also, and +oftener than he; but this one I had particularly noticed, partly because +of his bright, good-humored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> face, and partly because his horse had +always a flower, or a sprig of something green, stuck in the harness.</p> + +<p>At first I had only glanced at him now and then in the crowd. Then I +found myself watching for his blue cart, and next I began to wonder +where he came from, and what kind of people his folks were. He joked +with the grocery-men, threw apples at the little ragged street children, +and coaxed along his old horse in a sort of friendly way that was quite +amusing. And though I had never spoken a word to him, nor he to me, I +called him my unknown friend, for a sight of him always did me good.</p> + +<p>It was a bony old gray horse that he drove, with a long neck poking way +ahead; and the man was a farmer-like man, and wore farmer-like clothes; +but he had a pleasant, twinkling eye, and the horse, as I said before, +was seldom without a flower or bit of green stuck behind his ear or +somewhere else about the harness.</p> + +<p>And often, when the town was hot and dusty, and business people were +mean, I would say to myself, as my friend drove past on his way home, +How I should like to ride out with him, no matter where, if 't is only +where they have flowers and green things growing in the garden!</p> + +<p>On this particular afternoon, as I have said, I observed my friend +sitting quietly in his cart, "bound out," as the fishermen say,—sitting +becalmed, waiting for something ahead to get started.</p> + +<p>It happened that I was just then feeling very sensibly the heat and +confinement of the town, and was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> more than usually weary of business +ways and business people; actually pining for the balmy air of pine +woods and the breath of flowery fields. And perhaps, thought I, my +friend may live among warm-hearted country folk, who will be delighted +to give to my poor contrabands, and whose garrets no barrelman has yet +explored!</p> + +<p>So, giving a second look, and seeing that he still sat there, patiently +awaiting his turn, I ran down, without stopping to think more about it, +and asked if I might ride out with him.</p> + +<p>"O yes. Jump in! jump in!" said he, in the pleasantest manner possible; +then he offered me his cushion, and began to double up an empty bag for +himself.</p> + +<p>"No, no. Give me the bag," said I; and folding it, I laid it on the +board, just to take off the edge of the jolting a little. And my seat +seemed a charming one, after having been perched up on an office-stool +so long.</p> + +<p>That cushion of his took my eye at once. It looked as if it came out of +a rocking-chair. The covering was of black cloth, worked in a very +old-fashioned way, with pinks and tulips. The colors were faded, but it +had a homespun, comfortable, countrified look; in fact, the first glance +at that queer old cushion assured me that I was going to exactly the +right place.</p> + +<p>Presently we got started, and certainly I never had a better ride, nor +one with a pleasanter companion. He asked me all sorts of funny +questions about electricity, and oxygen, and flying-machines, and the +telegraph, and the moon and stars.</p> + +<p>"Now you are a learned man, I suppose," said he; "and I want you to tell +me how that golden-rod gets its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> yellow out of black ground." I said I +was not a learned man at all, and I didn't believe learned men +themselves could tell how it got its yellow, and the asters their +purple, and the succory its blue, and the everlasting its white, all out +of the same black ground. He said he was pretty sure his wife couldn't +boil up a kettleful and color either of those colors from them.</p> + +<p>So we went talking on. He asked me where I'd been stopping, and what I +did for a living. And I told him what I did for a living, and all about +soldier life, and the contrabands, and about my barrel. Our road led +through woods part of the way, and I drew in long breaths of woody air. +He told me a funny woodchuck story, and had a good deal to say about +wood-lots,—how some rich men formerly owned great tracts, but becoming +poor were forced to sell; and how, when pines were cut off, oaks grew up +in their place. And among other things he told me that a hardhack would +turn into a huckleberry-bush. I said that seemed like a miracle. He was +going on to tell me about one that he had watched, but just then we +turned into a pleasant, shady lane.</p> + +<p>We hadn't gone far down this shady lane before we heard a loud screaming +behind us, and looking round saw a small boy caught fast in the bushes +by the skirt of his frock.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that little boy?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"O yes, I see him," he said, laughing. "Hullo, Tommy! what you staying +there for?"</p> + +<p>The boy kept on crying.</p> + +<p>"What you waiting for?" he called out again, just as if he couldn't see +that the bushes would not let the child stir.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<p>We found out afterwards that little Tommy had hid there to jump out and +scare his father, but got caught by the briers. I went to untangle +him,—his clothes had several rents,—and was going to put him in the +cart; but he would get in "his own self," he said. Then he stopped +crying, and wanted to drive. His father said, "No, not till we get +through the bars."</p> + +<p>Then Tommy began again. And at last he said, half crying and half +talking, "When I'm—the—father, and you 'm—the—ittle Tommy—you +can't—drive—my—horse!"</p> + +<p>His father laughed and said: "Well, when I'm the little Tommy, I'll +brush the snarls off my face—so, and throw them under the wheels—so, +and let 'em get run over!"</p> + +<p>This made Tommy laugh, and very soon after we came to the bars.</p> + +<p>I looked ahead and saw a neat white house, not very large, with green +blinds and a piazza, where flowering plants were climbing. There was a +garden on one side and an orchard on the other. Just across the garden +stood an old, brown, unpainted house. There were tall apple-trees +growing near it, that looked about a hundred years old. My friend, Uncle +Jacob,—I've heard him called Uncle Jacob so much since that I really +don't know how to put a Mister to his name,—said those were Summer +Sweeting trees, that had pretty nigh done bearing. He said there used to +be Summer Sweeting trees growing all about there; and that when he took +part of the place, and built him a house, he cut down the ones on his +land, and set out Baldwins and Tallmans and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> Porters; but his mother +kept her's for the good they had done, and for the sake of what few +apples they did bear, to give away to the children.</p> + +<p>The houses had their backs towards me, and I was glad of that, for I +always like back doors better than front ones.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob whistled, and I saw a blind fly open, and a handkerchief +wave from an upper window, where two girls were sitting. Uncle Jacob's +wife stepped to the door and waved a sunbonnet, and then stepped back +again.</p> + +<p>"Here, Tommy," said Uncle Jacob, "you carry in the magazine to Lucy +Maria, and here's Matilda's gum-arabic. I don't see where Towser is."</p> + +<p>I jumped out, and said I guessed I would keep on; for I began to feel +bashful about seeing so many women-folks.</p> + +<p>"Where you going to keep on to?" Uncle Jacob asked. "This road don't go +any farther."</p> + +<p>I said I would walk across the fields to the next village and find a +hotel.</p> + +<p>"O no," said he, "stay here. Grandmother'll be glad enough to hear about +the contrabands. She'll knit stockings, and pick up a good deal about +the house to send off. And I want to ask much as five hundred questions +more about matters and things myself. Come, stay. Yes, we'll give you a +good supper, a first-rate supper. Don't be afraid. My wife'll—There! I +forgot her errand, now! But if you—Whoa! whoa! Georgiana, take this +pattern in to your Aunt Phebe, and tell her I forgot to see if I could +match it; but I don't believe the man had any like it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Georgiana was a nice little girl that just then came running across the +garden,—William Henry's sister, as I learned afterwards.</p> + +<p>Just then Aunt Phebe stepped to the door again.</p> + +<p>"Here are two hungry travellers," said Uncle Jacob, "and one of us is +bashful."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Aunt Phebe, very cheerily, "if anybody is hungry, this is +just the right place. How do you do, sir? Come right in. We live so out +of the way we 're always glad of company. Father, can't you introduce +your friend?"</p> + +<p>"Well—no—I can't," said he. "But I guess he's brother to the +President!"</p> + +<p>I said my name was Fry.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe said her father had a cousin that married a <i>Fry</i>, and asked +what my mother's maiden name was. I told her my mother was a <i>Young</i>, +and that I was named for my father and mother both,—<i>Silas Young Fry</i>.</p> + +<p>I heard a tittering overhead, behind a pair of blinds, where I guessed +some girls were peeping through. And afterwards, when I was sitting on +the piazza, I heard one tell another, not thinking I was within hearing, +that a young fry had come to supper.</p> + +<p>When we all sat round the table the girls seemed full of tickle, which +they tried to hide,—and one of them asked me,—I think it was Hannah +Jane,—with a very sober face,—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fry, will you take some fried fish?"</p> + +<p>I laughed and said, "No, I never take anything <i>fried</i>."</p> + +<p>Then we all laughed together, and so got acquainted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> very pleasantly; +for I have observed that a little ripple of fun sets people nearer +together than a whole ocean of calm conversation.</p> + +<p>After supper Uncle Jacob read the paper aloud, while the girls washed up +the dishes. All were eager to hear; and I found they kept the run of +affairs quite as well as townspeople. When there was too much rattling +of dishes for Uncle Jacob to be heard, and the girls lost some important +item, he was always willing to read it over. Little Tommy was rolled up +in a shawl and set down in the rocking-chair (that cushion did come out +of it) while his mother mended his clothes. This was the way he usually +got punished for tearing them. He was done up in a shawl, arms and all, +and kept in the rocking-chair while the clothes were being mended, and +he was obliged to remain pretty quiet, or the chair would tip. Aunt +Phebe said Tommy was so careless, something must be done, and keeping +him still was the worst punishment he could have.</p> + +<p>When the girls finished their dishes and took out their sewing, and were +going to light the large lamp, their mother said that we mustn't think +of settling ourselves for the evening. She said we must all go in to +grandmother's, for she'd be dreadful lonely, missing Billy so.</p> + +<p>Then Aunt Phebe told me how her nephew, Billy, a ten-year old boy, had +gone away to school only the day before, and how they all missed him.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he pretty young to go away to school?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"That's what I told his father," said she.</p> + +<p>"His father sent him away to keep him," said Uncle Jacob. "Grandmother +was spoiling him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ruining the boy with kindness?" said Lucy Maria.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Aunt Phebe, "I suppose 't was so. I know 't was so. But we +did hate to have Billy go!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob then took me across the garden, and introduced me to Mr. +Carver, the father of William Henry, and to Grandmother,—old Mrs. +Carver, as the neighbors called her.</p> + +<p>She was a smiling, blue-eyed old lady, though with a little bit of an +anxious look just between the eyes. I thought there was no doubt about +her being a grandmother that would spoil boys.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's Towser, now?" said Uncle Jacob. "He didn't come to meet me +to-night."</p> + +<p>"He's been there, off and on, pretty much all day," said grandmother. +"You see what he's got his head on don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Billy's old boots!" said Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He set a good deal by Billy. I haven't put the boots away yet," +she said, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Here, Towser! come here, sir!" cried Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>Towser was a big, shaggy, clever-looking dog. He got up slowly, sniffed +at my trousers, then walked to Uncle Jacob, then round the room, then to +the door, then up stairs and down again, and then back he went and lay +down by the boots.</p> + +<p>"He misses my grandson," said grandmother to me, trying to smile about +it.</p> + +<p>The little girl, Georgiana, sat on a cricket, holding a kitten, tying +and untying its ribbon. A square of patchwork had fallen on the floor. +She stooped to pick it up and dropped her spool. That rolled away +towards the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> door, and kitty jumped for it and soon got the thread in a +tangle. The door opened so suddenly that she hopped up about two feet +into the air and tumbled head over heels.</p> + +<p>It was Lucy Maria who opened the door. The other girls came soon after; +and when Tommy was asleep Aunt Phebe came too. We had a very sociable +time. I don't call myself a talker, but I didn't mind talking there, +they seemed so easy, just like one's own folks. I told grandmother many +things about the contrabands, and about Southern life, and Southern +people, and about soldier life and battles and rations and making raids, +and the Washington hospitals, and how needy the contrabands were, and +about my barrel. "Poor creatures!" said she. "I must look up some things +for them to-morrow." Aunt Phebe thought there might be a good many +things lying about that would be of use to folks who hadn't anything.</p> + +<p>"Billy's boots!" cried Hannah Jane.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," said her mother, "no use keeping boots for a growing boy."</p> + +<p>This and other remarks brought us back to William Henry again, and +grandmother seemed glad of it. She liked to keep talking about her boy.</p> + +<p>"I shall feel very anxious," she said. "I hope he will write soon as he +gets there. I told him he'd better write every day, so I could be sure +just how he was. For if well one day, he mightn't be the next."</p> + +<p>"O grandmother, that's too bad!" said Lucy Maria. "'T is cruel to ask a +boy to write every day!"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't worry, mother," said Aunt Phebe. "Billy's always been a well +child."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"These strong constitutions," said grandmother, "when they do take +anything, 't is apt to go hard with 'em."</p> + +<p>"He's taken pretty much everything that can be given to him already," +said Aunt Phebe.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they'll put clothes enough on his bed," said grandmother. "I +can't bear to think of his sleeping cold nights."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they have blankets in that part of the country," said Uncle +Jacob.</p> + +<p>"But people are not always thoughtful about it," said grandmother. "I +really hope he'll take care of himself, and not be climbing up +everywhere. Houses and trees were bad enough; but now they have +gymnastic poles and everything else, to tempt boys off the ground. O +dear! when we think of everything that might happen to boys, 't is a +wonder one of them ever lives to grow up. Isn't there a pond near by?"</p> + +<p>"O yes," said Lucy Maria, "Crooked Pond. That's what gives the name to +the school,—Crooked Pond School."</p> + +<p>"I hope he won't be whipped," said his little sister.</p> + +<p>"Whipped!" cried Aunt Phebe, "I should like to see anybody whipping our +Billy!"</p> + +<p>"O mother, I shouldn't," said Matilda.</p> + +<p>"'T isn't an impossible thing," said grandmother. "He's quick. Billy's +good-hearted, but he's quick. He might speak up. I gave him a charge how +to behave. But then, what's a boy's memory? I don't suppose he'll +remember one half the things I told him. I meant to have charged him +over again, the last thing, not to stay out in the rain and get wet, +where there's nobody to see to his clothes being dried."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Uncle Jacob, "if a boy doesn't know enough to go into the +house when it rains, he better come home?"</p> + +<p>"What I hope is," said Aunt Phebe, "that he'll keep himself looking +decent."</p> + +<p>"If he does," said Lucy Maria, "then 'twill be the first time. The poor +child never seemed to have much luck about keeping spruced up. If +anybody here ever saw William Henry with no buttons off and both shoes +tied, and no rip anywhere, let 'em raise their hands!"</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. I thought grandmother's eye wandered round the +circle, as if half taking it all in earnest, and half hoping some hand +would go up. But no hand went up.</p> + +<p>"Billy always was hard on his clothes," she said, with a sigh. "If he +only keeps well I won't say a word; but there's always danger of boys +eating unwholesome things, where there's nobody to deny them."</p> + +<p>"Billy's stomach's his own, and he must learn to have the care of it," +said Mr. Carver.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver seemed a very quiet, thoughtful man, and of quite a different +turn from his brother.</p> + +<p>I suggested that boarding-house diet was apt to be plain; and then told +grandmother about a nephew of mine, a nice boy, who was rather older +than her grandson, who was named after me, and of whom I thought +everything. I told her he had been away at school a year, and that he +enjoyed himself, and went ahead in his studies, and never had a sick +day, and came home with better manners than he had when he went away. As +this pleased her, I said everything I could think of about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> my nephew, +including some anecdotes of little Silas, when he was quite small; and +she told a few about William Henry, the others helping her out, now and +then, with some missing items.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob said he shouldn't dare to say how many times she'd been +frightened almost to death about Billy. Many and many a time she was +sure he was lost, or drowned, or run over, or carried off, and would +never come back alive; but he always managed to come out straight at +last. Uncle Jacob said that if all the worry that was worried in this +world were piled up together, 't would make a mountain; but if all of it +that needn't be worried were knocked off, what was left wouldn't be +bigger than a huckleberry hill.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver said there was one thing which made him entirely willing to +trust William Henry away, and that was, he had always been a boy of +principle. "I have watched him pretty closely," said Mr. Carver, "and +have noticed that he has a kind of pride about him that will not permit +him to lie, or equivocate in any way.</p> + +<p>"That's true!" cried Aunt Phebe. "True enough! Billy don't always look +fit to be seen, but he isn't deceitful. I'll say that for him!"</p> + +<p>"When he went to our school," said Matilda, "and was in the class below +me, and there was a fuss among the boys, and all of 'em told it a +different way, the teacher used to say she would ask William Henry, and +then she could tell just how it happened."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't have a better name than that," said Mr. Carver.</p> + +<p>Grandmother wiped her eyes, she seemed so gratified that her boy's good +qualities were remembered at last.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>I am almost certain that an editor should not be so long in telling his +story. But I should like to say a little more about that first +night,—just a very little more.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Grandmother wouldn't hear of my going to a hotel. Anybody that had been +a soldier, and was doing good, should never go from her house to find a +night's lodging. And she might as well have said, particularly anybody +that had a little Silas away at school, for I saw she felt it.</p> + +<p>It required very little urging to make me stay; for in all my travels I +had never met with a pleasanter set of people. My choice was offered me, +whether to lodge in the front chamber, or in the little back chamber +where Billy slept. Of course I chose the last; for people's best, front, +spare chambers never suit me very well.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 487px;"> +<img src="images/p016.jpg" width="487" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Billy's room was a snug little room, low in the walls, and papered with +flowery paper. There were two windows, the curtains to which were made +of paper like that on the walls. You had to roll them up with your +hands, and tie them with a string that went over the top. The room was +over the sink-room, and in going into it we stepped one step down. There +was no carpet on the floor, excepting a strip by the bedside and a mat +before the table. Grandmother said the table Billy and she made +together, so the legs didn't stand quite true. It was covered with +calico, and more calico was puckered on round the edge and came down to +the floor. That was done, she said, to make a place for his boots and +shoes. She thought 't was well for a boy to have a place for his things, +even if he did always leave them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> somewhere else. There was nothing +under the table but one rubber boot, with the rubber mostly cut off, and +some pieces of new pine, easy to whittle, that Billy had picked up and +stowed away there. A narrow looking-glass hung over the table. It had a +queer picture at the top, of two Japanese figures. The glass had a +little crack in one corner,—cracked by his ball bouncing up when he was +trying it. Some green tissue-paper hung around this fracture with a very +innocent, ornamental air. Not far from the glass I observed a rusty +jack-knife stuck in the wall, close to the window-frame; and on its +handle was hanging a string of birds'-eggs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> In stepping up to examine +these I stumbled against an old hair-covered trunk, quite a large one. +The cover seemed a little askew, and not inclined to shut. This trunk +was the color of a red cow, and for aught I know was covered with the +skin of a red cow. In the middle of the cover the letters W. C. were +printed in brass nails, which led me to guess that the trunk had +belonged to William Henry's father. Grandmother raised the cover, to see +what kept it from shutting, and found 't was a great scraggly piece of +sassafras (saxifax) root, which lay on top.</p> + +<p>There was everything in that trunk,—everything. Of course I don't mean +meeting-houses, or steamboats, or anacondas; but everything a boy would +be likely to have. I saw picture papers, leather straps, old +pocket-books, a pair of dividers, the hull of a boat, a pair of +boot-pullers, a chrysalis, several penholders, a large clam-shell, a few +pocket combs,—comb parts gone,—fishing-lines, reels, bobs, sinkers, a +bullet-mould, arrows, a bag of marbles, a china egg, a rule, hammers, a +red comforter, two odd mittens, "that had lost the mates of 'em," a +bird-call, a mask, an empty cologne-bottle, a dime novel, odd +cards,—all these, and more, were visible by merely stirring the top +layer a little. Also several tangles of twine, twining and intertwining +among the mass. Grandmother shook up the things some,—by means of a +handle which probably belonged to a hatchet, but the hatchet part was +buried,—and I saw that the bottom was covered with marbles, dominos, +nails, bottles, slate-pencils, bits of brass clock machinery, and all +the innumerable nameless, shapeless things which would be likely to +settle down to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> bottom of a boy's trunk. Grandmother said she should +set it to rights if it weren't for fish-hooks; but anybody's hands going +in there would be likely to get fish-hooks stuck into them.</p> + +<p>In one end of the trunk was quite a fanciful box. It was nothing but a +common pine box, painted black, with "cut out" pictures pasted on it. +There were ladies' faces, generals' heads, bugs, horses, butterflies, +chairs, ships, birds, and in the centre of the cover, outside, there was +a large red rose on its stalk. At the centre, inside, was a laughing, or +rather a grinning face, cut from some comic magazine. In this box was +kept some of his more precious treasures,—a little brass anchor, a +silver pencil-case, a whole set of dominos, and a ball, very prettily +worked, orange-peel pattern, in many colors. This was a present from his +teacher. There was also a curious pearl-handled knife, with the blades +broken short off. She said he never felt so badly about breaking any +knife as when that got broken, for it was one his cousin brought him +home from sea. He was keeping it to have new blades put in.</p> + +<p>"How much this trunk reminds me of little Silas's bureau-drawer!" I +said, taking up an old writing-book. As I spoke several bits of paper +fell out and among them were some very funny pictures, done with a +lead-pencil and then inked over.</p> + +<p>"What are these?" I asked. "Does he draw?"</p> + +<p>"Well—not exactly," she answered,—"nothing that can be called drawing. +He tries sometimes to copy what he sees."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may look at them," I said, picking up one of the bits of +paper. "Pray what is this?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grandmother put on her spectacles, and turned the paper round, as if +trying to find the up and down of it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p019.jpg" width="448" height="294" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"O, this is Uncle Jacob chasing the calf," said she; "those things that +look like elbows are meant for his legs kicking up. And on this piece +he's tried to make the old gobbler flying at Georgiana. You see the +turkey is as big as she is. But maybe you don't know which the turkey +is! That one is the fat man, and that one is the cat and kittens. And +that one is a dandy, making a bow. He saw one over at the hotel that he +took it from."</p> + +<p>She was sitting by the bed, and as she named them, spread them out upon +it, one by one, along with some others I have not mentioned, all very +comical. When I had finished laughing over them I said,—</p> + +<p>"I should like to send these pictures in my barrel. 'T would give the +little sick contrabands something to laugh at."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell Billy when he comes," she answered, then gathered them +up and smoothed the quilt again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>The bedstead was a low one, without any posts, except that each leg +ended at the top with a little round, flat head or knob. The quilt was +made of light and dark patchwork. Grandmother told me, lowering her +voice, that Billy's mother made that patchwork when she was a little +girl just learning to sew; but 't was kept laid away, and about the last +work she ever did was to set it together. And 't was her request that +Billy should have it on his bed. She said Billy was a very <i>feeling</i> +boy, though he didn't say much. One time, a couple years ago, she hung +that quilt out to blow, and forgot to take it in till after the dew +began to fall, so, being a little damp, she put on another one. But next +morning she looked in, and there 't was, over him, spread on all skewy!</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I think," she added, "that boys have more feeling than we +think for!"</p> + +<p>"I know they have!" I answered.</p> + +<p>A picture of William Henry's mother hung opposite the bed. It was not a +very handsome face, nor a pretty face. But it had such an earnest, +loving, wistful expression, that I could not help exclaiming, +"Beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she was a beautiful woman. We all loved her. She was just like a +daughter to me. Billy doesn't know what he's lost, and 't is well he +don't. I try to be a mother to him; but they say," said the +tender-hearted old lady,—"they say a grandmother isn't fit to have the +bringing up of a child! Billy has his faults."</p> + +<p>"Now if I were a child," I exclaimed, "I should rather you would have +the bringing up of me than anybody I know of! And 't is my opinion, from +what I hear, that you've done well by Billy. Of course boys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> are boys, +and don't always do us they ought to. Now there's little Silas. He's +been a world of trouble first and last. But then boys soon get big +enough to be ashamed of all their little bad ways. The biggest part of +'em like good men best, and mean to be good men. And I think Billy's +going to grow up a capital fellow! A capital fellow! If a boy's +true-hearted he'll come out all right. And your boy is, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"O very!" she said. "Very!"</p> + +<p>I was so glad to think, after the old lady had gone down, that I'd said +something which, if she kept awake, thinking about the boy, would be a +comfort to her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Next morning grandmother brought out quite an armful of old clothes. A +poor old couple, living near, she said, took most of hers and Mr. +Carver's; but what few there were of Billy's that were decent to send I +might have. A couple of linen jackets, a Scotch cap, two pairs of thin +trousers, not much worn, but outgrown, a small overcoat, several pairs +of stockings, and some shoes. And the boots also, and some +underclothing, that William Henry might have worn longer, she said, if +he were only living at home, where she could put a stitch in 'em now and +then.</p> + +<p>Grandmother sighed as she emptied the pockets of crumbles, green apples, +reins, bullets, and knotted, gray, balled-up pocket-handkerchiefs. Among +the clothes she brought out a funny little uniform, which I had seen +hanging up in his room,—one that he had when a soldier, or trainer, as +she called it, in a military company, formed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> near the beginning of the +war. It consisted of a blue flannel sack, edged with red braid, red +flannel Zouave trousers, and a blue flannel cap, bound with red, and +having a square visor. That uniform would fit some little contraband, +she said.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you better keep those?" I asked. "Won't he want them?"</p> + +<p>"O no," she said. "He's outgrown them. And 't is no use keeping them for +moths to get into."</p> + +<p>She gave me some picture-books, and two primers, a roll of linen, and +quite a good blanket, all of which I received thankfully.</p> + +<p>In rolling up the different articles, I saw her eye resting so lovingly +on the little uniform, that I said, "Here, grandmother, hadn't you +better take back these?"</p> + +<p>"O, I guess not," she answered. "I guess you better send them. But," she +added a moment after, "perhaps they might as well stay till you send +another barrel."</p> + +<p>"Just exactly as well," I said. And the old lady seemed as if she had +recovered a lost treasure.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe added a good many valuable articles, so that by the time +Uncle Jacob was ready to start I had collected two immense bundles, and +felt almost brave enough to face another barrel. For they all said they +would beg from their friends, and save things, and that I must certainly +come again.</p> + +<p>"For you know," said Aunt Phebe, "'t is a great deal better to hear you +tell things than to read about them in the newspapers."</p> + +<p>They stood about the door to see us off, and Matilda stroked the old +horse, and talked to him as if he understood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> She broke off two heads +of phlox, red and white, and fastened them in behind his ear. Uncle +Jacob told me, as we rode along, that the old horse really expected to +be patted and talked to before starting. And indeed I noticed myself +that after being dressed up he stepped off with an exceedingly satisfied +air, just as I have seen some little girls,—and boys too, for that +matter, and occasionally grown people.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>But it is quite time to give you the Letters. There should be more of +them, for the correspondence covers a period of about two years. 'T is +true that, after the first, William Henry did not write nearly as often. +But still there are many missing. Little Tommy cut up some into strings +of boys and girls, and at one time when grandmother wasn't very well, +and had to hire help, the girl look some to kindle fire with. The old +lady said she was sitting up in her arm-chair, by the fireplace one day, +when she saw, in the corner, a piece of paper with writing on it, half +burnt up. She poked it out with a yardstick, and 't was one of Billy's +letters! Quite a number which were perfect have been omitted. This is +because that some coming between were missing; and so, as the children +say, there wouldn't be any sense to them. Others contained mostly +private matters. Very few were dated. This is, however, of small +importance, as the Letters probably will never be brought forward to +decide a law case.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS.</h2> + + + +<p>The first letter from William Henry which has been preserved seems to +have been written a few weeks after entering his school, and when he had +begun to get acquainted with the boys. Could the letter itself be made +to appear here, with its <i>very</i> peculiar handwriting, and with all the +other distinctive marks of a boy's first exploit on paper, it would be +found even more entertaining than when given in the printed form.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I think the school that I have come to is a very good school. We have +dumplings. I've tied up the pills that you gave me in case of feeling +bad, in the toe of my cotton stocking that's lost the mate of it. The +mince pies they have here are baked without any plums being put into +them. So, please, need I say, No, I thank you, ma'am, to 'em when they +come round? If they don't agree, shall I take the pills or the drops? Or +was it the hot flannels,—and how many?</p> + +<p>I've forgot about being shivery. Was it to eat roast onions? No, I guess +not. I guess it was a wet band tied round my head. Please write it down, +because you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> told me so many things I can't remember. How can anybody +tell when anybody is sick enough to take things? You can't think what a +great, tall man the schoolmaster is. He has got something very long to +flog us with, that bends easy, and hurts,—Q. S. So Dorry says. Q. S. is +in the abbreviations, and stands for a sufficient quantity. Dorry says +the master keeps a paint-pot in his room, and has his whiskers painted +black every morning, and his hair too, to make himself look scareful. +Dorry is one of the great boys. But Tom Cush is bigger. I don't like Tom +Cush.</p> + +<p>I have a good many to play with; but I miss you and Towser and all of +them very much. How does my sister do? Don't let the cow eat my +peach-tree. Dorry Baker he says that peaches don't grow here; but he +says the cherries have peach-stones in them. In a month my birthday will +be here. How funny 't will seem to be eleven, when I've been ten so +long! I don't skip over any button-holes in the morning now; so my +jacket comes out even.</p> + +<p>Why didn't you tell me I had a red head? But I can run faster than any +of them that are no bigger than I am, and some that are. One of the +spokes of my umbrella broke itself in two yesterday, because the wind +blew so when it rained.</p> + +<p>We learn to sing. He says I've a good deal of voice; but I've forgot +what the matter is with it. We go up and down the scale, and beat time. +The last is the best fun. The other is hard to do. But if I could only +get up, I guess 't would be easy to come down. He thinks something ails +my ear. I thought he said I hadn't got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> any at all. What have a feller's +ears to do with singing, or with scaling up and down?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. Here's a conundrum Dorry Baker made: In a race, why would the +singing-master win? Because "Time flies," and he <i>beats time</i>.</p> + +<p>I want to see Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, dreadfully.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>This second letter must have been pleasing to Aunt Phebe, as it shows +that William Henry was beginning to have some faint regard for his +personal appearance.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I've got thirty-two cents left of my spending-money. When shall I begin +to wear my new shoes every day? The soap they have here is pink. Has +father sold the bossy calf yet? There's a boy here they call Bossy Calf, +because he cried for his mother. He has been here three days. He sleeps +with me. And every night, after he has laid his head down on the pillow, +and the lights are blown out, I begin to sing, and to scale up and down, +so the boys can't hear him cry. Dorry Baker and three more boys sleep in +the same room that we two sleep in. When they begin to throw bootjacks +at me, to make me stop my noise, it scares him, and he leaves off +crying. I want a pair of new boots dreadfully, with red on the tops of +them, that I can tuck my trousers into and keep the mud off.</p> + +<p>One thing more the boys plague me for besides my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> head. Freckles. Dorry +held up an orange yesterday. "Can you see it?" says he. "To be sure," +says I. "Didn't know as you could see through 'em," says he, meaning +freckles. Dear grandmother, I have cried once, but not in bed. For fear +of their laughing, and of the bootjacks. But away in a good place under +the trees. A shaggy dog came along and licked my face. But oh! he did +make me remember Towser, and cry all over again. But don't tell, for I +should be ashamed. I wish the boys would like me. Freckles come thicker +in summer than they do in winter.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p028.jpg" width="448" height="301" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>If William Henry's recipe for the prevention of spunkiness were +generally adopted, I fancy that many a boy would be seen practising the +circus performance here mentioned. It must have been "sure cure!" I well +remember the "plaguing" of my school days, and know from experience how +hard it is for a boy (or a man) always to keep his temper. The fellows +used to make fun of my name. In our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> quarrels, when there was nothing +else left to say, they would call out,—leaving off the Silas,—"Y Fry? +why not bake?" or "boil," or "stew." Of course to such remarks there was +no answer.</p> + +<p>It is to be regretted that so few of Grandmother's letters were +preserved. As Billy here makes known the state of his pocket-book, we +may infer that she had been inquiring into his accounts, and perhaps +cautioning him against spending too freely.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I do what you told me. You told me to bite my lips and count ten, before +I spoke, when the boys plague me, because I'm a spunky boy. But doing it +so much makes my lips sore. So now I go head over heels sometimes, till +I'm out of breath. Then I can't say anything.</p> + +<p>This is the account you asked me for, of all I've bought this week:—</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Slippery elm</td><td align='left'>1 cent.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Corn-ball</td><td align='left'>1 cent.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Gum</td><td align='left'>1 cent.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p029.jpg" width="448" height="325" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>And I swapped a whip-lash that I found for an orange that only had one +suck sucked out of it. The "Two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> Betseys," they keep very good things to +sell. They are two old women that live in a little hut with two rooms to +it, and a ladder to go up stairs by, through a hole in the wall. One +Betsey, she is lame and keeps still, and sells the things to us sitting +down. The other Betsey, she can run, and keeps a yardstick to drive away +boys with. For they have apple-trees in their garden. But she never +touches a boy, if she does catch him. They have hens and sell eggs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<img src="images/p030.jpg" width="394" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The boys that sleep in the same room that we do wanted Benjie and me to +join together with them to buy a great confectioner's frosted cake, and +other things. And when the lamps had been blown out, to keep awake and +light them up again, and so have a supper late at night, with the +curtains all down and the blinds shut up, when people were in bed, and +not let anybody know.</p> + +<p>But Benjie hadn't any money. Because his father works hard for his +living,—but his uncle pays for his schooling,—and he wouldn't if he +had. And I said I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> wouldn't do anything so deceitful. And the more they +said you must and you shall, the more I said I wouldn't and I shouldn't, +and the money should blow up first.</p> + +<p>So they called me "Old Stingy" and "Pepper-corn" and "Speckled +Potatoes." Said they'd pull my hair if 't weren't for burning their +fingers. Dorry was the maddest one. Said he guessed my hair was tired of +standing up, and wanted to lie down to rest.</p> + +<p>I wish you would please send me a new comb, for the large end of mine +has got all but five of the teeth broken out, and the small end can't +get through. I can't get it cut because the barber has raised his price. +Send quite a stout one.</p> + +<p>I have lost two of my pocket-handkerchiefs, and another one went up on +Dorry's kite, and blew away.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I did what you told me, when I got wet. I hung my clothes round the +kitchen stove on three chairs, but the cooking girl she flung them under +the table. So now I go wrinkled, and the boys chase me to smooth out the +wrinkles. I've got a good many hard rubs. But I laugh too. That's the +best way. Some of the boys play with me now, and ask me to go round with +them. Dorry hasn't yet. Tom Cush plagues the most.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the schoolmaster comes out to see us when we are playing ball, +or jumping. To-day, when we all clapped Dorry, the schoolmaster clapped +too. Somebody told me that he likes boys. Do you believe it?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>A cat ran up the spout this morning, and jumped in the window. Dorry was +going to choke her, or drown her, for the working-girl said she licked +out the inside of a custard-pie. I asked Dorry what he would take to let +her go, and he said five cents. So I paid. For she was just like my +sister's cat. And just as likely as not somebody's little sister would +have cried about it. For she had a ribbon tied round her neck.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 352px;"> +<img src="images/p032.jpg" width="352" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The woman that I go to have my buttons sewed on to, is a very good +woman. She gave me a cookie with a hole in the middle, and told me to +mind and not eat the hole.</p> + +<p>Coming back, I met Benjie, and he looked so sober, I offered it to him +as quick as I could. But it almost made him cry; because, he said, his +mother made her cookies with a hole in the middle. But when he gets +acquainted, he won't be so bashful, and he'll feel better then.</p> + +<p>We walked away to a good place under the trees, and he talked about his +folks, and his grandmother, and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> Aunt Polly, and the two little +twins. They've got two cradles just like each other, and they are just +as big as each other, and just as old. They creep round on the floor, +and when one picks up anything, the other pulls it away. I wish we had +some twins. I told him things too.</p> + +<p>Kiss yourself for me.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. If you send a cake, send quite a large one. I like the kind that +Uncle Jacob does. Aunt Phebe knows.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I was going to tell you about "Gapper Skyblue." "Gapper" means grandpa. +He wears all the time blue overalls, faded out, and a jacket like them. +That's why they call him "Gapper Skyblue." He's a very poor old man. He +saws wood. We found him leaning up against a tree. Benjie and I were +together. His hair is all turned white, and his back is bent. He had +great patches on his knees. His hat was an old hat that he had given +him, and his shoes let in the mud. I wish you would please to be so good +as to send me both your old-fashioned india-rubbers, to make balls of, +as quick as holes come. Most all the boys have lost their balls. And +please to send some shoe-strings next time, for I have to tie mine up +all the time now with some white cord that I found, and it gets into +hard knots, and I have to stoop my head way down and untie 'em with my +teeth, because I cut my thumb whittling, and jammed my fingers in the +gate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>Old Gapper Skyblue's nose is pretty long, and he looked so funny leaning +up against a tree, that I was just going to laugh. But then I remembered +what you said a real gentleman would do. That he would be polite to all +people, no matter what clothes they had on, or whether they were rich +people or poor people. He had a big basket with two covers to it, and we +offered to carry it for him.</p> + +<p>He said, "Yes, little boys, if you won't lift up the covers."</p> + +<p>We found 't was pretty heavy. And I wondered what was in it, and so did +Benjie. The basket was going to "The Two Betseys."</p> + +<p>When we had got half-way there, Dorry and Tom Cush came along, and +called out: "Hallo! there, you two. What are you lugging off so fast?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<img src="images/p034.jpg" width="430" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>We said we didn't know. They said, "Let's see." We said, "No, you can't +see." Then they pushed us. Gapper was a good way behind. I sat down on +one cover, and Benjie on the other, to keep them shut up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then they pulled us. I swung my arms round, and made the sand fly with +my feet, for I was just as mad as anything. Then Tom Cush hit me. So I +ran to tell Gapper to make haste. But first picked up a stone to send at +Tom Cush. But remembered about the boy that threw a stone and hit a boy, +and he died. I mean the boy that was hit. And so dropped the stone down +again and ran like lightning.</p> + +<p>"Go it, you pesky little red-headed firebug!" cried Tom Cush.</p> + +<p>"Go it, Spunkum! I'll hold your breath," Dorry hollered out.</p> + +<p>The dog, the shaggy dog that licked my face when I was lying under the +trees, he came along and growled and snapped at them, because they were +hurting Benjie. You see Benjie treats him well, and gives him bones. And +the master came in sight too. So they were glad to let us alone.</p> + +<p>The basket had rabbits in it. Gapper Skyblue wanted to pay us two cents +apiece. But we wouldn't take pay. We wouldn't be so mean.</p> + +<p>When we were going along to school, Bubby Short came and whispered to me +that Tom and Dorry were hiding my bird's eggs in a post-hole. But I got +them again. Two broke.</p> + +<p>Bubby Short is a nice little fellow. He's about as old as I am, but over +a head shorter and quite fat. His cheeks reach way up into his eyes. +He's got little black eyes, and little cunning teeth, just as white as +the meat of a punkin-seed.</p> + +<p>I had to pay twenty cents of that quarter you sent, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> breaking a +square of glass. But didn't mean to, so please excuse. I haven't much +left.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. When punkins come, save the seeds—to roast. If you please.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>One of my elbows came through, but the woman sewed it up again. I've +used up both balls of my twine. And my white-handled knife,—I guess it +went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn't know of till after the +knife was lost. My trousers grow pretty short. But she says 't is partly +my legs getting long. I'm glad of that. And partly getting 'em wet.</p> + +<p>I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tumbled down and scraped a hole +through the knee of my oldest pair. For it was very rotten cloth. I +guess the hole is too crooked to have her sew it up again. She thinks a +mouse ran up the leg, and gnawed that hole my knife went through, to get +the crumbles in the pocket. I don't mean when they were on me, but +hanging up.</p> + +<p>My boat is almost rigged. She says she will hem the sails if I won't +leave any more caterpillars in my pockets. I'm getting all kinds of +caterpillars to see what kind of butterflies they make.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, Dorry and I started from the pond to run and see who would +get home first. He went one way, and I went another.</p> + +<p>I cut across the Two Betseys' garden. But I don't see how I did so much +hurt in just once cutting across.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> I knew something cracked,—that was +the sink-spout I jumped down on, off the fence. There was a board I hit, +that had huckleberries spread out on it to dry. They went into the +rain-water hogshead. I didn't know any huckleberries were spread out on +that board.</p> + +<p>I meant to go between the rows, but guess I stepped on a few beans. My +wrist got hurt dreadfully by my getting myself tripped up in a +squash-vine. And while I was down there, a bumble-bee stung me on my +chin. I stepped on a little chicken, for she ran the way I thought she +wasn't going to. I don't remember whether I shut the gate or not. But +guess not, for the pig got in, and went to rooting before Lame Betsey +saw him, and the other Betsey had gone somewhere.</p> + +<p>I got home first, but my wrist ached, and my sting smarted. You forgot +to write down what was good for bumble-bee stings. Benjie said his Aunt +Polly put damp sand on to stings. So he put a good deal of it on my +chin, and it got better, though my wrist kept aching in the night. And I +went to school with it aching. But didn't tell anybody but Benjie. Just +before school was done, the master said we might put away our books. +Then he talked about the Two Betseys, and told how Lame Betsey got lame +by saving a little boy's life when the house was on fire. She jumped out +of the window with him. And he made us all feel ashamed that we great +strong boys should torment two poor women.</p> + +<p>Then he told about the damage done the day before by some boy running +through their garden, and said five dollars would hardly be enough to +pay it. "I don't know what boy it was, but if he is present," says he, +"I call upon him to rise."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then I stood up. I was ashamed, but I stood up. For you told me once +this saying: "Even if truth be a loaded cannon walk straight up to it."</p> + +<p>The master ordered me not to go on to the playground for a week, nor be +out of the house in play-hours.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I was very sorry that while in the neighborhood of the Crooked Pond +school, a short time since, lack of time prevented my finding out the +Two Betseys' shop. These worthy women, as will be seen further on, +became William Henry's firm friends.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Lame Betsey gave me something to put on my wrist that cured it. I went +there to ask how much money must be paid. I had sold my football, and my +brass sword, and my pocket-book. They told me they should not take any +money, but if I would saw some wood for them, and do an errand now and +then, they should be very glad. When I told Dorry, he threw up his hat, +and called out, "Three cheers for the 'Two Betseys.'" And when his hat +came down, he picked it up and passed it round; "for," says he, "we all +owe them something." One great boy dropped fifty cents in. And it all +came to about four dollars. And Bubby Short carried it to them. But I +shall saw some wood for them all the same.</p> + +<p>Last evening it was rainy. A good many boys came into our room, and we +sat in a row, and every one said some verses, or told a riddle. These +two verses I send for Aunt Phebe's little Tommy to learn. I guess he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +done saying "Fishy, fishy in the brook" by this time, Dorry said he got +them out of the German.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When you are rich,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can ride with a span;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when you are poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must go as you can.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Better honest and poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And go as you can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than rich and a rogue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ride with a span."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This riddle was too hard for me to guess. But Aunt Phebe's girls like to +guess riddles, and I will send it to them. Mr. Augustus says that a +soldier made it in a Rebel prison. Mr. Augustus is a tall boy, that +knows a good deal, and wears spectacles, and that's why we call him Mr. +Augustus.</p> + +<h4>RIDDLE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm one half a Bible command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aye and forever shall stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, throughout our beautiful land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is needed now to foil the traitorous band.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm always around,—yet they say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too often I'm out of the way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thereby leading astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm decked in jewels fine and rich array.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Although from my heart I am stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can utter but one little word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that very seldom is heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My elder sister sometimes kept a bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reads the riddle clear to you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am very near to you:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both very near and dear—to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet kept in chains. Does that seem queer to you?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That about being "stirred from the heart" is all true. So is that about +being "<i>around</i>." The "Bible command," spoken of at the beginning, is +only in three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> words, or two words joined by "and." This word is the +first half. But I mustn't tell you too much.</p> + +<p>They are all <i>dear</i>. But some kinds are dearer than others.</p> + +<p>I wish my father would send me one.</p> + +<p>That about the bird is first-rate, though I never saw one of that kind +of—I won't say what I mean (Dorry says you mustn't say what you mean +when you tell riddles). But maybe you've seen one. They used to have +them in old times.</p> + +<p>I've launched my boat. She's the biggest one in school. Dorry broke a +bottle upon her, and christened her the "General Grant." The boys gave +three cheers when she touched water, and Benjie sent up his new kite. +It's a ripper of a kite with a great gilt star on it that's got eight +prongs.</p> + +<p>My hat blew off, and I had to go in swimming after it. It is quite +stiff. The master was walking by, and stopped to see the launching. When +he smiles, he looks just as pleasant as anything.</p> + +<p>He patted me on my cheek, and says he, "You ought to have called her the +'Flying Billy.'" And then he walked on.</p> + +<p>"What does 'Flying Billy' mean?" says I.</p> + +<p>"It means you," said Dorry. "And it means that you run fast, and that he +likes you. If a boy can run fast, and knows his multiplication-table, +and won't lie, he likes him."</p> + +<p>But how can such a great man like a small boy?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>P. S. When the boys laugh at me, I laugh too. That's a good way.</p> + +<p>P. S. There's a man here that's got nine puppies. If I had some money I +could buy one. The boys don't plague me quite so much. I'm sorry you +dropped off your spectacles down the well. I suppose they sunk. I've got +a sneezing cold.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">W. H.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>About the spectacles, I may as well confess that I was the means of +their being lost.</p> + +<p>One day Uncle Jacob came into the office hastily, and, with a look of +distress, said to me very solemnly,—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fry, if you can, I want you to leave everything, and ride out with +me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! what is the matter?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why," said he, "ever since we sent out word about old clothes, they've +been coming in so fast the rooms are all filled up, and we don't know +where to go!"</p> + +<p>He then went on to tell that the notice had spread into all the +neighborhoods round about, and that bundles of every description were +constantly pouring in. They were left at the back door, front door, side +door, dropped on the piazza, and in at the windows. Men riding by tossed +them into the yard, and little boys came tugging bundles, bigger than +they could lift, or dragged them in roller-carts, or wheeled them in +wheelbarrows. He said he found bundles waiting for him at the store, at +the post-office, and he could hardly ride along the street without some +woman knocking at the window, and holding up one, and beckoning with her +forefinger for him to come in after it! Even in the meeting-house +somebody took a roll of something from under a shawl and handed him! He +would have brought, the parcels, or a part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> of them, but there was every +kind of a thing sent in,—white vests and flounced lace or muslin gowns, +and open-work stockings; and some things were too poor, and some were +too nice, and his folks thought Mr. Fry should come out.</p> + +<p>So what could I do but go? And, as it happened, I could "leave +everything" just as well as not, and was glad to.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Grandmother received me in the kindest manner, gave me a pair of black +yarn stockings, asked about the contrabands, talked about Billy, read me +his letters, and, on the whole, seemed much easier in her mind +concerning him than when I saw her before.</p> + +<p>She was skimming pans of milk. With her permission I watched the +skimming, for pans of milk to a city man were a rare sight to see! I was +also given some of the cream, and a baked Summer Sweeting to eat with +it.</p> + +<p>The cream was put into a large yellow bowl, and the bowl set in a +six-quart tin pail. It was then ready to be lowered into the well; for, +as country people seldom have ice, they use the well as a refrigerator, +and it is there they keep their butter, cream, fresh meat, or anything +that is likely to spoil.</p> + +<p>"Do let me lower it down the well for you," I said; seeing that her hand +trembled a little; and besides, I hardly thought it prudent for her to +go out, as the grass was damp, there having been quite a sprinkle of +rain.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you've a mind to take the trouble," she said, as she handed me +the pail, at the same time telling me to be particular about putting +stones around the bowl, in the bottom, to steady it. She then handed me +the line, and cautioned me about hitting another pail, which was already +down the well.</p> + +<p>Just as I went out Uncle Jacob passed through the gate into the garden, +to pick his mother some beans.</p> + +<p>"Sha' n't I do that?" he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O no," said I; "I am very glad to make myself useful."</p> + +<p>Little Tommy stood by the well watching me, and I was talking to him and +playing with Towser, and by not attending to my business, I must have +tied a granny-knot, though I meant to tie a square one; and about +half-way down the pail slipped off, and went plump to the bottom.</p> + +<p>Little Tommy ran into the house calling out, "Grandmother! Grandmother! +that man lost your pail! Mr. Fwy let go of your pail!"</p> + +<p>Grandmother came running out and looked down. Her spectacles were tipped +up on top of her head; and when she bent over the well-curb they slipped +off, just touched the tip of her nose, and were out of sight in a +moment.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob came up laughing and said, "Of course the specs must go down +to see where the cream went to!" But Grandmother thought it was no +laughing matter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver and Uncle Jacob had a good many spells of fishing in the +well. At last Uncle Jacob was lucky enough to catch the handle of the +pail with his hook, and then he drew the pail up. It was found to be in +quite a damaged condition. The water looked creamy for some time. The +glasses never came to light. It seemed, therefore, no more than my duty +to send Grandmother another pair, which I did soon after in a bright new +six-quart pail, wishing with all my heart they were gold-bowed ones. But +I could not afford to do more than replace the lost ones.</p> + +<p>I will add that the six-quart pail was filled with the best of peaches.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The next three letters seem to have been sent at one time. Before they +reached Grandmother she had worked herself into a perfect fever of +anxiety.</p> + +<p>Owing to the rabbit affair, of which they contain the whole story, +William Henry had not felt like writing, so that, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> before his +letter was begun, they at the farm were already looking for it to +arrive. Then it took a longer time than he expected to finish up his +account of the matter; and when at last the letter was sealed and +directed, the boy who carried it to the post-office forgot his errand, +and it hung in an overcoat pocket several days. No wonder, then, the old +lady grew anxious.</p> + +<p>I was at the farm at the time they were looking for the letters, and I +really tried very hard to be entertaining; but not the funniest story I +could tell about the funniest little rollypoly contraband in the +hospital could excite more than a passing smile.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe gave me my charge before I went in.</p> + +<p>"You must be lively," said she. "Be lively! Turn her thoughts off of +Billy! That's the way! Though I do feel worried," she added. "'T is a +puzzle why we don't have letters. I'm afraid something <i>is</i> the matter, +or else it seems to me we should. He's been very good about writing. If +anything has happened to Billy, I don't know what we should do. 'T would +come pretty hard to Grandmother. And I do have my fears! But 't won't do +to let her know I worry about him. And you better be very lively! We all +have to be!"</p> + +<p>I observed that Mr. Carver, although he talked very calmly with his +mother, and urged her to rest easy, was after all not so very much at +ease himself. He sat by the window apparently reading a newspaper. But +it was plain that he only wished Grandmother to think he was reading; +for he paid but little attention to the paper, and was constantly +looking across the garden to see when Uncle Jacob should get back from +the post-office; and the moment Towser barked he folded his paper and +went out. Grandmother put on her "out-door" spectacles, and stood at the +window. When Mr. Carver returned she glanced rapidly over him with an +earnest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> beseeching look, which seemed to say that it was not possible +but that somewhere about him, in some pocket, or in his hat, or shut up +in his hand, there must be a letter.</p> + +<p>"The mail was late," Mr. Carver said; "Uncle Jacob couldn't wait, and +had left the boy to fetch it."</p> + +<p>Grandmother was setting the table. In her travels to and from the +buttery she stopped often to glance up the road, and during meal-time +her eyes were constantly turning to the windows.</p> + +<p>Presently Aunt Phebe came in.</p> + +<p>"The boy didn't bring any letters," said she; "but I've been thinking it +over, and for my part I don't think 't is worth while to worry. No news +is good news. Bad news travels fast. A thousand things might happen to +keep a boy from writing. He might be out of paper, or out of stamps, or +out of anything to write about, or might have lessons to learn, or be +too full of play, or be kept after school, or might a good many things!"</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose," said Grandmother, "that—you don't think—it +couldn't be possible, could it, that Billy's been punished and feels +ashamed to tell of it?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Aunt Phebe. "Now don't, Grandmother, I beg of you get +started off on that notion! Yesterday 't was the measles. And day before +'t was being drowned, and now 't is being punished!"</p> + +<p>"'T wouldn't be like William not to tell of it," said Mr. Carver.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit like him," said Aunt Phebe.</p> + +<p>"No," said Grandmother, "I don't think it would. But you know when +anybody gets to thinking, they are apt to think of everything."</p> + +<p>I told them there was a possibility of the letter being mis-sent. And +that idea reminded me of just such an anxious time we had once about +little Silas. His letter went to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> a town of the same name in Ohio, and +was a long time reaching us. I made haste to tell this to Grandmother, +and thought it comforted her a little.</p> + +<p>When I left the next morning, Mr. Carver followed me out and asked me to +make inquiries in regard to the telegraphic communication with the +Crooked Pond School, and to be in readiness to telegraph; for, in case +no letter came that day, he should send me word to do so.</p> + +<p>But no word arrived, as the next mail brought the following letters, +with their amusing illustrations.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I suppose if I should tell you I had had a whipping you would feel +sorry. Well, don't feel sorry. I will begin at the beginning.</p> + +<p>We can't go out evenings. But last Monday evening one of the teachers +said I might go after my overjacket that I took off to play ball, and +left hanging over a fence. It was a very light night. I had to go down a +long lane to get where it was; and when I got there, it wasn't there. +The moon was shining bright as day. Old Gapper Skyblue lives down that +lane. He raises rabbits. He keeps them in a hen-house.</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you what some of the great boys do sometimes. They steal +eggs and roast them. There is a fireplace in Tom Cush's room. Once they +roasted a pullet. The owners have complained so that the master said he +would flog the next boy that robbed a hen-house or an orchard, before +the whole school.</p> + +<p>Now I will go on about my overjacket. While I was looking for it I heard +a queer noise in the rabbit-house. So I jumped over. Then a boy popped +out of the rabbit-house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> and ran. I knew him in a minute, for all he ran +so fast,—Tom Cush.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/p047.jpg" width="361" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Now when he started to run, something dropped out of his hand. I went up +to it, and 't was a rabbit, a dead one, just killed; for when I stooped +down and felt of it, it was warm. And while I was stooping down, there +came a great heavy hand down on my shoulder. It was a man's great heavy +hand.</p> + +<p>Gapper had set a man there to watch. He hollered into my ears, "Now I've +got you!" I hollered, too, for he came sudden, without my hearing.</p> + +<p>"You little thief!" says he.</p> + +<p>"I didn't kill it," says I.</p> + +<p>"You little liar!" says he.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a liar," says I.</p> + +<p>"I'll take you to the master," says he.</p> + +<p>"Take me where you want to," says I.</p> + +<p>Then he pulled me along, and kept saying, "Who did, if you didn't? If +you didn't, who did?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>And he walked me straight up into the master's room, without so much as +giving a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"I've brought you a thief and a liar," says he. Then he told where he +found me, and what a bad boy I was. Then he went away, because the +master wanted to talk with me all by myself.</p> + +<p>Now I didn't want to tell tales of Tom, for it's mean to tell tales. So +all I could say was that I didn't do it.</p> + +<p>The master looked sorry. Said he was afraid I had begun to go with bad +boys. "Didn't I see you walking in the lane with Tom Cush yesterday?" +says he. I said I was helping him find his ball. And so I was.</p> + +<p>"If you were with the boys who did this," said he, "or helped about it +in any way, that's just as bad."</p> + +<p>I said I didn't help them, or go with them.</p> + +<p>"How came you there so late?" says he.</p> + +<p>"I went after my overjacket," says I.</p> + +<p>"And where is your overjacket?" says he.</p> + +<p>I said I didn't know. It wasn't there.</p> + +<p>Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the +morning.</p> + +<p>When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as +still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never +go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt. +Course, I knew 't wouldn't be like one of your little whippings. I +wasn't so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being +whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you +about the next morning, and how I was waked up.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I had to leave off and jump up and run to school without stopping to +sign my name, for the bell rang. But, now school is done, I will write +another letter to send with that, because you will want to know the end +at the same time you do the beginning.</p> + +<p>It was little pebbles that waked me up the next morning,—little pebbles +dropping down on my face. I looked up to find where they came from, and +saw Tom Cush standing in the door. He was throwing them. He made signs +that he wanted to tell me something. So I got up. And while I was +getting up, I saw my overjacket on the back of a chair. I found out +afterwards that Benjie brought it in, and forgot to tell me.</p> + +<p>Tom made signs for me to go down stairs with him. He wouldn't let me put +my shoes on. He had his in his hand, and I carried mine so. So we went +through the long entries in our stocking-feet, and sat down on the +doorstep to put our shoes on. Nobody else had got up. The sky was +growing red. I never got up so early before, except one Fourth of July, +when I didn't go to bed, but only slept some with my head leaned down on +a window-seat, and jumped up when I heard a gun go off. Tom carried me +to a place a good ways from the house. Our shoes got soaking wet with +dew.</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you what he said to me.</p> + +<p>He asked me if I saw him anywhere the night before. I said I did.</p> + +<p>He asked me where I saw him.</p> + +<p>I said I saw him coming out of the hen-house, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> Gapper Skyblue kept +his rabbits. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was sure.</p> + +<p>"And did you tell the master?" says he.</p> + +<p>I said, "No."</p> + +<p>"Nor the boys?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Then he told me he had been turned away from one school on account of +his bad actions, and he wouldn't have his father hear of this for +anything; and said that, if I wouldn't tell, he would give me a +four-bladed knife, and quite a large balloon, and show me how to send +her up, and if I was flogged he would give me a good deal more, would +give money,—would give two dollars.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he'll whip you," says he, "for he likes you. And if he +does, he wouldn't whip a small boy so hard as he would a big one."</p> + +<p>I said a little whipping would hurt a little boy just as much as a great +whipping would hurt a great boy. But I said I wouldn't be mean enough to +tell or to take pay for not telling.</p> + +<p>He didn't say much more. And we went towards home then. But before we +came to the house, he turned off into another path.</p> + +<p>A little while after, I heard somebody walking behind me. I looked +round, and there was the master. He'd been watching with a sick man all +night.</p> + +<p>He asked me where I had been so early. I said I had been taking a walk. +He asked who the boy was that had just left me. I said 't was Tom Cush. +He asked if I was willing to tell what we had been talking about. I said +I would rather not tell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>Says he, "It has a bad look, your being out with that boy so early, +after what happened last night."</p> + +<p>Then he asked me where I had found my overjacket. I said, "In my +chamber, sir, on a chair-back."</p> + +<p>"And how came it there?" says he.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir," says I.</p> + +<p>And, Grandmother, I almost cried; for everything seemed going against +me, to make me out a bad boy. I will tell the rest after supper.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you what happened that afternoon.</p> + +<p>The school was about half done.</p> + +<p>The master gave three loud raps with his ruler.</p> + +<p>This made the room very still.</p> + +<p>He asked the other teachers to come up to the platform. And they did.</p> + +<p>Next, he waved his ruler, and said, "Fold."</p> + +<p>And we all folded our arms.</p> + +<p>It was so still that we could hear the clock tick.</p> + +<p>He told Tom Cush to close the windows and shut the blinds.</p> + +<p>Then he talked to us about stealing and telling lies. Said he didn't +like to punish, but it must be done. He said he had reason to believe +that the boy whose name he should call out was not honest, that he took +other people's things and told lies.</p> + +<p>Then he told the story, all that he knew about it, and said he hoped +that all concerned in it would have honor enough to speak out and own +it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nobody said anything.</p> + +<p>Then the master said, "William Henry, you may come to the platform."</p> + +<p>I went up.</p> + +<p>Somebody way in the back part shouted out, "Don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"Silence!" said the master. And he thumped his ruler on the desk.</p> + +<p>Then he told me to take off my jacket, and fold it up. And I did.</p> + +<p>He told me to hand my collar and ribbon to a teacher. And I did.</p> + +<p>Then he laid down his ruler, and took his rod and bent it to see if it +was limber. It wasn't exactly a rod. It was the thing I told you about +when I first came to this school.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 441px;"> +<img src="images/p052.jpg" width="441" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>He tried it twice on the desk first.</p> + +<p>Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> back round towards him. +He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the +neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight.</p> + +<p>At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, "Master! Master! Stop! Don't! +He didn't do it! He didn't kill it! I know who! I'll tell! I will! I +will! I don't care what Tom Cush does! 'T was Tom Cush killed it!"</p> + +<p>The master didn't say one word. But he handed me my jacket.</p> + +<p>The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them.</p> + +<p>Then he said to me, whispering, "Is this so, William?" And I said, low, +"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down +he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly,—it made me remember the +way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, "My dear boy," then +stopped and began again, "My dear boy," and stopped again. If he'd been +a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a +man wouldn't. And what should he cry for? It wasn't he that almost had a +whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then +Bubby Short was called up to the platform.</p> + +<p>Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it.</p> + +<p>He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of +Tom's. 'T isn't much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him. +That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby +Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom +telling another boy about the rabbit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he +peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a +black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and +made, when he was running.</p> + +<p>But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, +and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he +would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me.</p> + +<p>Wasn't he a nice little fellow to tell?</p> + +<p>O, I was so glad when the boys all clapped! And when we were let out, +they came and shook hands with Bubby Short and me. Great boys and all. +Mr. Augustus, and Dorry, and all. And the master told me how glad he was +that he could keep on thinking me to be an honest boy.</p> + +<p>Now aren't you glad you didn't feel sorry?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The next time I went down to the farm I was told, of course, all about +the foregoing letters,—how they were received, and what effect they +produced in the family when they were read. Grandmother, however, gives +a happy account of the reception and reading of them in the following +reply, which she wrote soon after they were received.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Grandmother's Letter to William Henry, in reply.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Little Boy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Your poor old grandmother was so glad to get those letters, after such +long waiting! My dear child, we were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> anxious; but now we are pleased. I +was afraid you were down with the measles, for they're about. Your aunt +Phebe thinks you had 'em when you were a month old; but I know better.</p> + +<p>Your father was anxious himself at not hearing; though he didn't show it +any. But I could see it plain enough. As soon as he brought the letters +in, I set a light in the window to let your aunt Phebe know she was +wanted. She came running across the yard, all of a breeze. You know how +your aunt Phebe always comes running in.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" says she. "Letters from Billy? I mistrusted 't was letters +from Billy. In his own handwriting? Must have had 'em pretty light. +Measles commonly leave the eyes very bad."</p> + +<p>But you know how your aunt Phebe goes running on. Your father came in, +and sat down in his rocking-chair,—your mother's chair, dear. Your +sister was sewing on her doll's cloak by the little table. She sews +remarkably well for a little girl.</p> + +<p>"Now, Phebe," says I, "read loud, and do speak every word plain." I put +on my glasses, and drew close up, for she does speak her words so fast. +I have to look her right in the face.</p> + +<p>At the beginning, where you speak about being whipped, your father's +rocking-chair stopped stock still. You might have heard a pin drop. +Georgianna said, "O dear!" and down dropped the doll's cloak. "Pshaw!" +said Aunt Phebe, "'t isn't very likely our Billy's been whipped."</p> + +<p>Then she read on and on, and not one of us spoke. Your father kept his +arms folded up, and never raised his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> eyes. I had to look away, towards +the last, for I couldn't see through my glasses. Georgianna cried. And, +when the end came, we all wiped our eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now what's the use," said Aunt Phebe, "for folks to cry before they're +hurt?"</p> + +<p>"But you almost cried yourself," said Georgianna. "Your voice was +different, and your nose is red now." And that was true.</p> + +<p>After your sister was in bed, and Aunt Phebe gone, your father says to +me: "Grandma, the boy's like his mother." And he took a walk around the +place, and then went off to his bedroom without even opening his night's +paper. If ever a man set store by his boy, that man is your father. And, +O Billy, if you had done anything mean, or disgraced yourself in any +way, what a dreadful blow 't would have been to us all!</p> + +<p>The measles come with a cough. The first thing is to drive 'em out. Get +a nurse. That is, if you catch them. They're a natural sickness, and one +sensible old woman is better than half a dozen doctors. Saffron's good +to drive 'em out.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe is knitting you a comforter. As if she hadn't family enough +of her own to do for!</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your loving<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Grandmother.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I think this the proper place to insert the following letter from Dorry +Baker to his sister. I am sorry we have so few of Dorry's letters. Two +very entertaining ones will be given presently, describing a visit Dorry +made to William Henry's home. The two boys, as we shall see, soon after +their acquaintance,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> grew to be remarkably good friends. Mr. Baker, +Dorry's father, hearing his son's glowing accounts of William Henry's +family, took a little trip to Summer Sweeting place on purpose to see +them, and was so well pleased with Grandmother, Mr. Carver, Uncle Jacob, +and the rest, as to suggest to his wife that they should buy some land +in the vicinity, and turn farmers. He and Grandmother had a very +pleasant talk about their boys; and not long after, knowing, I suppose, +that it would gratify the old lady, he sent her some of Dorry's letters, +that she might have the pleasure of reading for herself what Dorry had +written about her Billy, and about Billy's people and Billy's home. +Perhaps, too, Mr. Baker was a little bit proud of the smart letters his +son could write.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Dorry's Letter to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis,</span>—</p> + +<p>If mother's real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But +if it's baking-day, or washing-day, or company's coming off, or +preserves going on, or anything's upset down below; or if she's got a +headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that's bad,—then wait.</p> + +<p>I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Saturday. Not a +very big boy,—do very well to "Philopene" with you: won't put her out a +bit.</p> + +<p>If you don't like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came +we used to plague him on account of his looks. He's got a furious head +of hair, and freckles. But we don't think at all about his looks now. If +anything, we like his looks.</p> + +<p>He's just as pleasant and gen'rous, and not a mean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> thing about him. I +don't believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn't. +He's always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give +anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat +to make their side beat. You don't catch William Henry at any such mean +business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too.</p> + +<p>I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other +boys.</p> + +<p>One day he had a box come from home. 'T was his birthday. It was full of +good things. Says I to the boys, "Now, maybe, if we hadn't plagued him +so, he would give us some of his goodies."</p> + +<p>That very afternoon, when we had done playing, and ran up to brush the +mud off our trousers, we found a table all spread out with a table-cloth +that he had borrowed, and in the middle was a frosted cake with "W. H." +on top done in red sugar. And close to that were some oranges, and a +dish full of nuts, and as much as a pound of candy, and more figs than +that, and four great cakes of maple-sugar, made on his father's land, as +big as small johnny-cakes, and another kind of cake. And doughnuts.</p> + +<p>"Come, boys," says he, "help yourselves."</p> + +<p>But not a boy stirred.</p> + +<p>I felt my face a-blushing like everything. O, we were all of us just as +ashamed as we could be! We didn't dare go near the table. But he kept +inviting us, and at last began to pass them round.</p> + +<p>And I tell you the things were tip-top and more too. Such cake! And +doughnuts, that his cousin made!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> And tarts! You must learn how. But I +don't believe you ever could. Of course we had manners enough not to +take as much as we wanted. I want to tell you some more things about +him. But wait till I come. He's most as old as you are, and is always a +laughing, the same as you are.</p> + +<p>Ask mother what I told you. Take her at her cleverest, and don't eat up +all the sweet apples.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Dorry.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Put some away in meal to mellow. Don't mellow 'em with your +knuckles.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Mrs. Baker, I imagine, was not particularly fond of boys. She gave her +permission, however, for Dorry to bring a "muddy-shoed" companion home +with him, as we see by the following letter from William Henry to his +grandmother.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter from William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Dorry asked his sister to ask his mother if he might ask me to go home +with him. And she said yes; but to wait a week first, because the house +was just got ready to have a great party, and she couldn't stand two +muddy-shoed boys. May I go?</p> + +<p>Tom Cush was sent home; but he didn't go. His father lives in the same +town that Dorry does. He has been here to look for him.</p> + +<p>I never went to make anybody a visit. I hope you will say yes. I should +like to have some money. Everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> tells boys not to spend money; but +if they knew how many things boys want, and everything tasted so good, I +believe they would spend money themselves. Please write soon.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>To this short letter Grandmother sent at once the following reply; and +in the succeeding letters from William Henry we get a pretty good idea +of what sort of people Dorry's folks were, and also hear something about +Tom Cush.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Grandmother's Second Letter.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Boy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Do you have clothes enough on your bed? Ask for an extra blanket. I do +hope you will take care of yourself. When the rain beats against the +windows, I think, "Now who will see that he stands at the fire and dries +himself?" And you're very apt to hoarse up nights. We are willing you +should go to see Dorry. Your uncle J. has been past his father's place, +and he says there's been a pretty sum of money laid out there. Behave +well. Wear your best clothes. Your aunt Phebe has bought a book for her +girls that tells them how to behave. It is for boys too, or for anybody. +I shall give you a little advice, and mix some of the book in with it.</p> + +<p>Never interrupt. Some children are always putting themselves forward +when grown people are talking. Put "sir" or "ma'am" to everything you +say. Make a bow when introduced. If you don't know how, try it at a +looking-glass. Black your shoes, and toe out if you possibly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> can. I +hope you know enough to say "Thank you," and when to say it. Take your +hat off, without fail, and step softly, and wipe your feet.</p> + +<p>Be sure and have some woman look at you before you start, to see that +you are all right. Behave properly at table. The best way will be to +watch and see how others do. But don't stare. There is a way of looking +without seeming to look. A sideways way.</p> + +<p>Anybody with common sense will soon learn how to conduct properly; and +even if you should make a mistake, when trying to do your best, it isn't +worth while to feel very much ashamed. <i>Wrong</i> actions are the ones to +be ashamed of. And let me say now, once for all, never be ashamed +because your father is a farmer and works with his hands. Your father's +a man to be proud of; he is kind to the poor; he is pleasant in his +family; he is honest in his business; he reads high kind of books; he's +a kind, noble Christian man; and Dorry's father can't be more than all +this, let him own as much property as he may.</p> + +<p>I mention this because young folks are apt to think a great deal more of +a man that has money.</p> + +<p>Your aunt Phebe wants to know if you won't write home from Dorry's, +because her Matilda wants a stamp from that post-office. If the colt +brings a very good price, you may get a very good answer to your riddle.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your loving<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Grandmother.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Take your overcoat on your arm. When you come away, bid good by, +and say that you have had a good time. If you have had,—not without.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry's Reply.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I am here. The master let us off yesterday noon, and we got here before +supper, and this is Saturday night, and I have minded all the things +that you said. I got all ready and went down to the Two Betseys to let +some woman look at me, as you wrote. They put on both their spectacles +and looked me all over, and picked off some dirt-specks, and made me +gallus up one leg of my trousers shorter, and make some bows, and then +walk across the room slow.</p> + +<p>They thought I looked beautiful, only my hair was too long. Lame Betsey +said she used to be the beater for cutting hair, and she tied her apron +round my throat, and brought a great pair of shears out, that she used +to go a-tailoring with. The Other Betsey, she kept watch to see when +both sides looked even.</p> + +<p>Lame Betsey tried very hard. First she stood off to look, and then she +stood on again. She said her mother used to keep a quart-bowl on purpose +to cut her boys' hairs with; she clapped it over their heads, and then +clipped all round by it even. The shears were jolly shears, only they +couldn't stop themselves easy, and the apron had been where snuff was, +and made me sneeze in the wrong place. Says I, "If you'll only take off +this apron, I'll jump up and shake myself out even." I'm so glad I'm a +boy. Aprons are horrid. So are apron-strings, Dorry says.</p> + +<p>They gave me a few peppermints, and said to be sure not to run my head +out and get it knocked off in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> cars, and not to get out till we +stopped going, and to beware of pickpockets.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 510px;"> +<img src="images/p063.jpg" width="510" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>O, we did have a jolly ride in the cars! Do you think my father would +let me be the boy that sells papers in the cars? I wish he would. I +didn't see any pickpockets. We got out two miles before we got there. I +mean to the right station. For Dorry wanted to make his sister Maggie +think we hadn't come.</p> + +<p>We took a short cut through the fields. Not very short. And went through +everything. My best clothes too. But I guess 't will all rub off. There +were some boggy places.</p> + +<p>When we came out at Dorry's house, it was in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> back yard. I said to +Dorry, "There's your mother on the doorstep. She looks clever."</p> + +<p>Dorry said, "She? She's the cook. I'll tell mother of that. No, I won't +neither."</p> + +<p>I suppose he saw I'd rather he wouldn't. The cook said everybody had +gone out. Then Dorry took me into a jolly great room and left me. Three +kinds of curtains to every window! What's the use of that? Gilt spots on +the paper, and gilt things hanging down from up above. A good many kinds +of chairs. I was going to sit down, but they kept sinking in. Everything +sinks in here. I tried three, and this made me laugh, for I seemed to +myself like the little boy that went to the bears' house and tried their +chairs, and their beds, and their bowls of milk. Then I came to a +looking-glass big enough for the very biggest bear. I thought I would +make some bows before it, as you said. I was afraid I couldn't make a +bow and toe out at the same time. Because it is hard to think up and +down both at once. While I was trying to, I heard a little noise, I +looked round, and—what do you think? Bears? O no. Not bears. A queen +and a princess, I thought. All over bright colors and feathers and shiny +silks. The queen—that's Dorry's mother you know,—couldn't think who I +was, because they had been to the depot, and thought we hadn't come. So +she looked at me hard, and I suppose I was very muddy. And she said, +"Were you sent of an errand here?" Before I could make up any answer, +Dorry came in. He had some cake, and he passed it round with a very +sober face. Then he introduced me, and I made quite a good bow, and +said, "Very well, I thank you, ma'am."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>I tried to pull my feet behind me, and wished I was sitting down, for +she kept looking towards them; and I wanted to sit down on the lounge, +but I was afraid 't wouldn't bear. She was quite glad to see Dorry. But +didn't hug him very hard. I know why. Because she had those good things +on. Dorry's grandmother lives here. She can't bear to hear a door slam. +She wears her black silk dress every day. And her best cap too. 'T is a +stunner of a cap. White as anything. And a good deal of white strings to +it. Everything makes her head ache. I'd a good deal rather have you. +When boys come nigh, she puts her hand out to keep them off. This is +because she has nerves. Dorry says his mother has 'em sometimes. I like +his father. Because he talks to me some. But he's very tired. His office +tires him. He isn't a very big man. He doesn't laugh any. If Maggie was +a boy she'd be jolly. She'll fly kites, or anything, if her mother isn't +looking. Her mother don't seem a bit like Aunt Phebe. I don't believe +she could lift a teakettle. Not a real one. When she catches hold of her +fork, she sticks her little finger right up in the air. She makes very +pretty bows to the company. Sinks way down, almost out of sight. She +gave us a dollar to spend; wasn't she clever? Dorry says she likes him +tip-top. If he'll only keep out of the way.</p> + +<p>I guess I'd rather live at our house. About every room in this house is +too good for a boy. But I tell you they have tip-top things here. Great +pictures and silver dishes! Now, I'll tell you what I mean to do when +I'm a man. I shall have a great nice house like this, and nice things in +it. But the folks shall be like our folks. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> shall have horses, and a +good many silver dishes. And great pictures, and gilt books for children +that come a-visiting. And you shall have a blue easy-chair, and sit down +to rest.</p> + +<p>Now, maybe you'll say, "But, Billy, Billy, where are you going to get +all these fine things?" O you silly grandmother! Don't you remember your +own saying that you wrote down?—"What a man wants he can get, if he +tries hard enough." Or a boy either, you said. I shall try hard enough. +There's more to write about. But I'm sleepy. I would tell you about Tom +Cush's father coming here, only my eyes can't keep open. Isn't it funny +that when you are sleepy your eyes keep shutting up and your mouth keeps +coming open? Please excuse the lines that go crooked. There's another +gape! I guess Aunt Phebe will be tired reading all this. I'm on her +side. I mean about measles. I'd rather have 'em when I was a month old. +I suppose I was a month old once. Don't seem as if 't was the same one I +am now. But if I do have 'em,—there I go gaping again,—if I catch 'em, +and all the doctors do come, I'll—O dear! There I go again. I do +believe I'm asleep—I'll—I'll get some natural-born old woman to drive +'em out, as you said, and good night.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I am back again, and had a good time; but came back hungry. I'll tell +you why. The first time I sat down to table I felt bashful, and Dorry's +mother said a great deal about my having a small appetite, and +afterwards I didn't like to make her think it was a large one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>I guess I behaved quite well at the table. But I couldn't look the way +you said. It made me feel squint-eyed. Once I almost laughed at table. +The day they had roast duck, it smelt nice. I thought it wouldn't go +round, for they had company besides me; and I said, "No, I thank you, +ma'am." Dorry whispered to me, "You must be a goose not to love duck"; +and that was when I almost laughed at table. His grandmother shook her +head at him.</p> + +<p>Now I'll tell about Tom Cush's father. That Saturday, when we were +eating dinner, somebody came to the front door, and inquired for us +two,—Dorry and me. It was Tom Cush's father. He wanted to ask us about +Tom, and whether we knew anything about him. But we knew no more than he +did. He talked some with us. The next evening,—Sunday evening,—Tom +Cush's mother sent for Dorry and me to come and see her. His father came +after us. She said they wanted to know more about what I wrote to you in +those letters.</p> + +<p>O, I don't want ever again to go where the folks are so sober. The room +was just as still as anything, not much light burning, and great +curtains hanging way down, and she looked like a sick woman. Just as +pale! Only sometimes she stood up and walked, and then sat down again, +and leaned way forward, and asked a question, and looked into our faces +so. We didn't know what to do. Dorry talked more than I could. Tom's +father kept just as sober! He said to Dorry: "It is true, then, that my +boy wouldn't own up to his own actions?" or something like that.</p> + +<p>Dorry said, "Yes, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom's father said, "And he was willing to sit still and see another boy +whipped in his place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Dorry said. But he didn't say it very loud.</p> + +<p>Then they stopped asking questions, and not one of us spoke for ever so +long. O, 't was so still! At last Dorry said, just as softly, "Can't you +find him anywhere?" And then I said that I didn't believe he was lost.</p> + +<p>Then Tom's father got up from his chair and said, "Lost? That's not it. +That's not it. 'T is his not being honorable! 'T is his not being true! +Lost? Why, he was lost before he left the school." Says he: "When he did +a mean thing, then he lost himself. For he lost his truth. He lost his +honor. There's nothing left worth having when they are gone."</p> + +<p>O, I never saw Dorry so sober as he was that night going home. And when +we went to bed, he hardly spoke a word, and didn't throw pillows, or +anything. I shut my eyes up tight and thought about you all at home, and +Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, and about school, and about +Bubby Short, and all the time Tom's mother's eyes kept looking at me +just as they did; and when I was asleep I seemed back again in that +lonesome room, and they two sitting there.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I want to tell that when I was at Dorry's I let a little vase fall +down and break. I didn't think it was so rotten. I felt sorry; but +didn't say so; I didn't know how to say it very well. I wish grown-up +folks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> would know that boys feel sorry very often when they don't say +so, and sometimes they think about doing right, too. And mean to, but +don't tell of it. Next time I shall tell about Bubby Short and me going +to ride in Gapper's donkey-cart. He's going to lend it to us. I should +like to buy them a new vase.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Benjie's had a letter, and one twin fell down stairs.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>There is one sentence in the first paragraph of the following letter +which reminds me of a very windy day, when I was staying at Summer +Sweeting place.</p> + +<p>In returning from a walk, by a short cut across the field, I met a boy +who was running just about as fast as he could.</p> + +<p>Soon after I came to another and much smaller boy, who was not running +at all, but was sitting flat upon the ground, under a tree, and crying +with might and main. This smaller boy proved to be Tommy. On a branch of +the tree, just out of his reach, hung a broom, towards which his weeping +eyes were turned in despair. A paper of peanuts which I happened to have +soon quieted him, because, in order to crack them, he had to shut his +mouth. At the first of it, however, he went on with his crying while +picking out the meats, which so amused me that I was obliged to turn +aside and laugh.</p> + +<p>It appeared that Tommy had been riding horseback on his mother's broom +"to see Billy," and when he had made believe get there, he wanted to +hitch his horse. A larger boy, out of mischief, or rather in mischief, +bent down a branch of the tree, telling Tommy there was a tiptop thing +to tie up to. He helped Tommy to tie the horse to the branch, and then +ran off across the field. It is very plain what happened when the branch +sprang back to its place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>I unhitched the <i>animal</i>, and then Tommy and I mounted it, he behind me, +and away we cantered to the house, my amazing gallops causing the little +chap to laugh as loudly as he had cried.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Please to tell my sister I am much obliged to her for picking up that +old iron for me. But that old rusty fire-shovel handle, I guess that +will not do to put in again. For my father said, the last time, that he +had bought that old fire-shovel handle half a dozen times. But Aunt +Phebe's Tommy, he pulls it out again to ride horseback on.</p> + +<p>I know a little girl just about as big as my sister, named Rosy. Maybe +that is not her name. Maybe it is, because her face is so rosy. She had +a lamb. And she's lost it. It ate out of her hand, and it followed her. +It was a pet lamb. But it's lost. Gapper came up to inquire about it. +Mr. Augustus wrote a notice and nailed it on to the Liberty Pole, and +then Dorry chalked out a white lamb on black pasteboard, and painted a +blue ribbon around its neck, and hung that up there too.</p> + +<p>Gapper let Bubby Short and me have his donkey-cart to go to ride in. He +kicked up when we licked him, and broke something. But a man came by and +mended it. So we didn't get back till after dark. But the master didn't +say anything after we told the reason why. Did you ever see a ghost? Do +you believe they can whistle? I'll tell you what I ask such a question +for.</p> + +<p>There is an old house, and part of it is torn down, and nobody lives in +it. It is built close to where the woods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> begin. The boys say there is a +ghost in it. I'll tell you why. They say that if anybody goes by there +whistling, something inside of that house whistles the same tune. Dorry +says it's a jolly old ghost. Mr. Augustus thinks 'tis all very silly. +Now I'll tell you something.</p> + +<p>The night Bubby Short and I were coming back from taking a ride in +Gapper's donkey-cart, we tried it. We didn't dare to lick him again, for +fear he would kick up, so we rode just as slow!—and it was a lonesome +road, but the moon was shining bright.</p> + +<p>Says Bubby Short, "Do you believe that's the honeymoon?"</p> + +<p>"No," says I. "That's what shines when a man is married to his wife."</p> + +<p>"Are you scared of ghosts?" said Bubby Short.</p> + +<p>"Can't tell till I see one," says I.</p> + +<p>"How far off do you suppose they can see a fellow?" says he.</p> + +<p>Says I, "I don't know. They can see best in the dark."</p> + +<p>"Do you think they'd hurt a fellow?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Maybe," says I. "There's the old house."</p> + +<p>"I know it," says he; "I've been looking at it."</p> + +<p>Says I, "Are you scared to whistle?"</p> + +<p>"Scared! No," says he. "Let's whistle, I say."</p> + +<p>"Well," says I, "you whistle first."</p> + +<p>"No," says he, "you whistle first."</p> + +<p>"Let <i>him</i> whistle first," says I.</p> + +<p>"He won't do it. Ghosts never whistle first," says he.</p> + +<p>I asked him who said that, and he said 't was Dorry.</p> + +<p>Then I said, "Let's whistle together."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>So we waited till we almost got past, and then whistled "Yankee Doodle." +And, grandmother, it did,—it whistled it.</p> + +<p>Bubby Short whispered, "Lick him a little."</p> + +<p>Then I whispered back, "'T won't do to. If I do, he won't go any."</p> + +<p>But in a minute he began to go faster of his own accord. He heard +somebody ahead calling. It was Gapper, coming to see what the matter was +that kept us so late. Now what do you think about it?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. My boots leak. Shall I get them tapped, or get a new pair, or +throw them away, or else keep the legs to make new boots of?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Here we have William Henry trying his hand at story-telling.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Sometimes Dorry writes stories in his letters for his sister, just as he +tells them to her, talking, at home. Now I'll write one for my sister, +and I'll call it by a name. I'll call it</p> + + +<h4>THE STORY OF THE GREAT STORM.</h4> + +<p>Once there was a little boy named Billy, and Gapper lent him his donkey +to go ride. That's me, you know. Next day Gapper came and said, "You +boys lost my whip." Now I remembered having the whip when we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> crept in +among the bushes,—for we got sight of a woodchuck, and came near +finding his hole. So when school was done at noon, I asked leave to put +some bread and meat in my pocket, instead of eating any dinner, and go +to look for Gapper's whip. And he said I might. 'T was two miles off. +But I found it. And I dug for a good deal of saxifax-root. And picked +lots of boxberry-plums.</p> + +<p>And I never noticed how the sky looked, till I heard a noise something +like thunder. It was very much like thunder. Almost just like it. I +thought it was thunder. Only it sounded a great ways off. I was walking +along slow, snapping my whip and eating my dinner, for I thought I +wouldn't hurry for thunder, when something hard dropped down close to +me. Then another dropped,—and then another. And they kept dropping. I +picked one up and found they were hailstones, and they were bigger than +bullets.</p> + +<p>It kept growing dark, and the hailstones came thicker, and hit me in the +face. Then they began to pour right down, and I ran. They beat upon me +just like a driving storm all of sharp stones. The horses and cows cut +across the fields like mad. The horses flung up their heads. I was +almost to that old house and ran for that, and kicked the door through +to get in, for I thought I should be killed with the hail. The shingles +off the roof were flying about; and when I got inside, 't was awful. I +thought to be sure the roof would be beat in. Such a noise! It sounded +just exactly as if a hundred cartloads of stones were being tipped up on +to the roof. And then the window-glass! It was worse than being out +doors, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> the window-glass was flying criss-cross about the room, like +fury, all mixed up with the hail. I crouched down all in a bunch and put +my arms over my head, and so tried to save myself. But then I spied a +closet door a crack open, and I jumped in there. And there I sat all +bent over with my hands up to my ears, and thought, O, what would become +of me if the old house should go? And now the strangest part is coming. +You see 't was a pretty deep closet—School-bell! I didn't think 't was +half time for that to ding. I'll tell the rest next time. Should you +care if I brought home Dorry to make a visit? He wants to bad. 'T would +be jolly if Bubby Short went too.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Everybody's been setting glass. Counting the house and the school-house, +and the panes set over the barn door, and four squares in the hen-house, +we had to set four hundred and twenty-three squares. The express-man has +brought loads and loads. All the great boys helped set. We slept one +night with bedquilts and rugs hung up to the windows. The master tried +to shut his blind in the storm, but the hail drove him in, and he +couldn't even shut down his window again. A rich man has given to the +Two Betseys better windows than they had before. Now I will tell about +my being in that closet.</p> + +<p>When it began to grow stiller, I took my hands down from my ears, and +one hand when it came down touched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> something soft. Quite soft and warm. +I jumped off from it in a hurry. Then I heard a kind of bleating noise, +and a little faint "ba'a ba'a." But now comes the very strangest part. +Farther back in the closet I heard somebody move, somebody step. I was +scared, and gave the door a push, to let the light in. Now who do you +think was there? Aunt Phebe must stop reading and let you guess. But +maybe you're reading yourself. Then stop and guess. 'T wasn't a ghost. +'T wasn't a man. 'T wasn't a woman. 'T was Tom Cush! and Rosy's lamb!</p> + +<p>Says he, "William Henry!" Says I, "Tom!" Then we walked out into the +room, and O, what a sight! Says I, "I thought 't was going to be the end +of the old house."</p> + +<p>Says Tom, "I thought 't was going to be the end of the world."</p> + +<p>In the corners the hailstones were heaped up in great banks. You might +have shovelled up barrels full. Most of them were the size of bird's +eggs. But some were bigger. Then we looked out doors. The ground was all +white, and drifts in every cornering place, and the leaves stripped off +the trees. Then we looked at one another, and he was just as pale as +anything. He leaned against the wall, and I guessed he was crying. To +see such a great boy crying seemed most as bad as the hailstorm. Maybe +he didn't cry. When he turned his head round again, says he: "Billy, I'm +sick, and what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"Go home," says I.</p> + +<p>"No," says he, "I won't go home. And if you let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> 'em know, I'll—" And +then he picked up Gapper's whip,—"I'll flog you."</p> + +<p>"Flog away," says I; "maybe I shall, and maybe I sha' n't."</p> + +<p>He dropped the whip down, and says he, "Billy, I sha' n't ever touch +you. But they mustn't know till I'm gone to sea."</p> + +<p>I asked him when he was going. And he told me all about it.</p> + +<p>When he was sent away from school, he went into town and inquired about +the wharves for a chance to go, and got one, and came back to get some +things he left hid in the old house, and to wait till 't was time to go. +He sold his watch, and bought a great bag full of hard bread and cheese +and cakes.</p> + +<p>He was mad at Gapper for setting a man to watch, and so he took Rosy's +lamb. He was going to kill it. And then skin it. But he couldn't do it. +It licked his hand, and looked up so sorryful, he couldn't do it. And +when he cut his foot—he cut it chopping something. That's why he stayed +there so long. And he was the ghost that whistled. He knew the fellows +wouldn't go in to see what it was that whistled. And he ate up most all +his things, and tied a string to the lamb, and let it out nights to eat +grass, and then pulled it in again.</p> + +<p>I wouldn't have stayed there so for anything. He went into town three +times, nights, to get victuals to eat. I don't see what he wants to be +such a kind of a boy for. He says he means to go to sea, and if ever +he's good he's going home. I told him about his father and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> mother, and +he walked while I was talking, and kept his back towards me. I asked him +what ailed him, and he said 't was partly cutting him, and partly +sleeping cold nights, and partly the crackers and cheese. I gave him the +rest of my meat, and he was glad enough.</p> + +<p>He said he was ashamed to go home.</p> + +<p>Now I have got to the end of another sheet of paper. I wish I hadn't +begun to tell my sister this story. It takes so long. And I want every +minute of the time to play in. For 't is getting a little cooler, and a +fellow can stand it to run some. The master says it's good weather for +studying. Dorry says he never saw any weather yet good enough for +studying. I shall write a very short letter next time, to tell the rest +of it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I forgot to put this letter in the office. I guess I will not +write any more letters till I go home. I was going to tell more, but I +can do it better talking. I went to see Tom Cush the next day, and he +had gone. Rosy's got her lamb back again. But her flower-garden was +killed by the hail. Not one leaf left. She found her lamb on the +doorstep, waiting to get in.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>We have next a letter from Aunt Phebe, a dear, good-hearted woman, who +took almost a mother's interest in William Henry. Indeed, I have heard +her remark, that she hardly knew any difference between her feelings for +him and for her own children.</p> + +<p>Some of her letters will be found to contain good advice, given in a +very amusing way.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Letter from Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>You rogue, you! I meant to have written before. You've frightened us all +to pieces with your ghost that wasn't a ghost, and your whipping that +wasn't a whipping, and your measles that you didn't have. Grandmother +may talk, but she's losing her memory. You were red as a beet with 'em. +As if I didn't carry you about all night and go to sleep walking!</p> + +<p>Grandmother says, "Yes, indeed! bring Dorry, and let him stay a week if +he wants to." Bless her soul! She'll always keep her welcome warm, so +never mind her memory. And Bubby Short, too. Pray bring Bubby Short. I +want to see his black eyes shine. Don't Benjie want to come? I've got +beds enough, and girls enough to work, and a great batch of poor +mince-pies that I want eaten up. Don't see how I came to make such a +miss in my pies this baking. Your uncle J. thinks I skinched on plums. +There never was such a man for plums. I do believe if they were put into +his biscuits he'd think he'd got no more than his rights.</p> + +<p>Your uncle J. says: "Tell the boys to come on. I've got apples to +gather, and husking to do." They'd better bring some old clothes to +wear. This is such a tearing place. I've put my Tommy into jacket and +trousers. He used to hitch his clothes upon every rail. Such a climber! +I don't know what that boy'll be when he grows up.</p> + +<p>I send you a good warm comforter, knit in stripes; and all the family +are knit into it, especially Tommy. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> pink stripes are his good-boy +days, and the black ones are his naughty actions. I showed him where I +knit 'em in. That clouded gray and black stripe is for my two great +girls quarrelling together about whose work 't was to do some little +trifle. I told 'em they should be knit in, big as they are, if they +couldn't behave and be accommodating. That bright red stripe is for +Hannah Jane's school report, all perfect. That blue stripe is for your +sister Georgianna when she made a sheet. It matches her eyes as near as +I could get the yarn. My blue dye is weak this fall. Indigo is high. +Your uncle J. says it's on account of the Rebs feeling so blue. That +gray stripe, dotted with yellow, means a funny crying spell Tommy had at +table. I came home, and there he sat in his high chair, with his two +hands on the arms of it, his mouth wide open, eyes shut, and the tears +streaming down, making the dolefullest noise,—"O-oh, a-ah; o-oh, a-ah." +Lucy Maria said he'd been going on in that strain almost half an hour, +because we didn't have mince-meat for supper. That green stripe is for +the day we all took the hay-cart and went to ride in the woods. The +orange-colored one is for the box of oranges your uncle J. fetched home. +"A waste of money," says I. "Please the children," says he; "and the +peel will save spice." Makes me laugh when your uncle J. sets out to +save. My girls and Tommy have got the very best of fathers, only they +don't realize it. But young folks can't realize. The pale rose-colored +stripe is for the travelling doctor's curing your grandmother's +rheumatics, and promising she never should have another touch of 'em if +she was careful. The dark red stripe is for the red cow's getting choked +to death with a turnip.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> She was a prime butter cow. Any man but your +uncle J. would look sober for a month about it. But he says, "O, there's +butter enough in the world, Phebe. And the calf will soon be a cow on +its own hook." That's your uncle J.</p> + +<p>The plain dark purple stripe is for my Matilda's speaking +disrespectfully to grandmother. She was sorry enough afterwards, but I +told her it should go in. That bright yellow stripe is for the day your +father went to market and got such a great price for his colt. The +bright fringe, mixed colors, is for us all in both houses, when we got +news of your coming home, and felt so glad. There's a stitch dropped in +one place. That may go for a tear-drop,—a tear of mine, dear, if you +please. Do you think we grown-up women, we jolly, busy women, never shed +tears? O, but we do sometimes, in an out-of-the-way corner, or when the +children are all gone to school, or everybody is in bed. Bitterer tears +they are, Billy, than boys' tears. One more stripe, that plain white one +in the centre, is for the little Tommy that died. I couldn't bear to +leave him out, Billy. He had such little loving ways. You don't remember +him.</p> + +<p>There's your uncle J.'s whistle. He always whistles when he gets to the +bars, to let me know it's time to begin to take up dinner.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your loving<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Phebe.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I will insert here two of Dorry Baker's letters to his sister. When they +were written Dorry and Bubby Short were making William Henry a visit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<h4><i>Dorry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis,</span>—</p> + +<p>Who's been giving you an inch, that you take so many "l's"? Or is father +putting an "L" to his house, or some great "LL. D." been dining there, +or what is the matter, that about every "l" in your letter comes double? +I wouldn't spell "painful" with two "l's" if the pain was ever so bad. +But I know. You are thinking about Billy and the good times we are +having. Aunt Phebe says you might have come too, just as well as not; +for her family is so big, three or four more don't make a mite of +difference.</p> + +<p>We got here last night. Billy's grandmother's a brick. She took Billy +right in her arms, and I do believe she cried for being glad, behind her +spectacles. His sister is full as pretty as you. Billy brought her a +round comb. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's as fat as butter. He sat and +sucked his thumb and stared, till Billy held out a whistle to him, and +then he walked up and took it, as sober as a judge.</p> + +<p>"And I've brought you something, Grandmother," says Billy.</p> + +<p>He went out and brought in a bandbox tied up. I wondered, coming in the +cars, what he had got tied up in that bandbox. He out with his +jack-knife, and cut the strings, and took out—have you guessed yet? Of +course you haven't,—took out a new cap like grandma's. He stuck his +fist in it, and turned it round and round, to let her see it.</p> + +<p>"Now sit down," says he, "and we'll try it on."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>She wouldn't, but he made her.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Dorry," says he, "and see which is the front side of this."</p> + +<p>When her old cap was pulled off, there was her gray hair all soft and +crinkly. He got the cap part way on.</p> + +<p>"You tip it down too much," says I.</p> + +<p>"We'll turn it round," says he.</p> + +<p>"'T is upside down," said Billy's father.</p> + +<p>"Now 't is one-sided," says Uncle J., "like the colt's blinders."</p> + +<p>"'T was never meant for my head," says Grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Send for Phebe," says Uncle J.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 511px;"> +<img src="images/p082.jpg" width="511" height="480" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>But "Phebe" was coming. There was a great chattering outside, and the +door opened, and in came Aunt Phebe, laughing, and her three great girls +laughing too, with their red cheeks, and their great braids of hair tied +up in red bow-knots of ribbon. And they all went to kissing Billy.</p> + +<p>And then says Aunt Phebe, "What in the world are you doing to your +grandmother? A regular milliner's cap, if I breathe! Well done, +Grandmother! Here, let me give it a twist. It's hind side before. What +do boys know? or men either? What are all these kinds of strings for?"</p> + +<p>"The great ones to hang down, and the little ones to tie up," says +Billy.</p> + +<p>The girls stood by to pick the bows apart, and fuzz up the ruffles where +they were smashed in; and Billy's father and Uncle Jacob, they sat and +laughed.</p> + +<p>Grandmother couldn't help herself, but she kept saying, "Now, Phebe! +now, girls! now, Billy!"</p> + +<p>"And now, grandmother!" says Aunt Phebe. "There! fold your hands +together. Don't lean back hard, 't will jam easy. Now see, girls! Isn't +she a beauty?" And, Maggie, I do believe she's the prettiest grandmother +there is going. Her face is just as round and smiling!</p> + +<p>"Now sit still, Grandmother," said Aunt Phebe. And she winked to the +girls, and they whisked two tables up together, spread on the cloth, set +on the dishes; then out into the entry, and brought in great loaves of +plum-cake, and pies and doughnuts, and set out the table,—all done +while you'd be tying your shoe. Then they set a row of lights along the +middle, and we all sat round,—Grandmother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> at the head, and Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy in his high chair; and I'll tell you what, if these +are poor mince-pies, I hope I shall never see any good ones.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you have some fried eggs?" said Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>"Now did anybody ever hear the like?" said Aunt Phebe. "Fried eggs! when +they're shedding their feathers, and it takes seventy-six fowls to lay a +dozen, and every egg is worth its weight in currency! Better ask why we +don't have cranberry sauce!"</p> + +<p>"There!" says Uncle J. "I declare, if I didn't forget that errand, after +all!"</p> + +<p>"When I told you to keep saying over 'Cranberries, cranberries,' all the +way going along!" says Aunt Phebe.</p> + +<p>"They would 'a' set my teeth on edge before I got to Ne'miah's corner," +said Uncle J. "The very thoughts of 'em is enough. Lucy Maria, please to +pass that frosted cake. I declare, I'm sorry I forgot that errand."</p> + +<p>For all we were so hungry, there was a great deal left, and I was glad +to see it going into Billy's buttery. Billy says it's just like his aunt +Phebe to come to supper, and make that an excuse to bring enough to last +a week, to save Grandmother steps.</p> + +<p>I do like to stay where folks are jolly. They keep me a-laughing; and as +for Bubby Short, his little black eyes have settled themselves into a +twinkle, and there they stay. I never had such a good time in my life.</p> + +<p> +From your same old brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dorry.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>P. S. We have got good times enough planned out to last a month. Uncle +J. says we may have his old horse, and Young Gray, and Dobbin, and the +cow too, if we want, to ride horseback on, or tackle up into anything we +can find, from a hay-cart to a wheelbarrow. I shall want to write, but +sha' n't. There'll be no time. When I get home, I'll talk a week.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Love to all inquiring friends.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Maggie could have formed but little idea of the nature of the offer +mentioned in Dorry's postscript, because she had never, at that time, +stood on the spot and seen with her own eyes all the "wheel-ed things" +that were to be seen in Uncle Jacob's back-yard.</p> + +<p>How gladly would I, if space permitted, go into a minute description of +that roomy enclosure, with its farming implements, garden tools, cattle, +pump, fowls, watering-trough, grindstone, woodpile, haystack, etc., and +carryalls, carts, wagons, wheelbarrows, roller-carts, and tip-carts, +some in good repair, others very far out of it! "Entertainment for man +and beast" might truly have been written over the entrance!</p> + +<p>Mother Delight (an old nurse-woman) once remarked of Uncle Jacob, that +he was a very <i>buying man</i>. This was a true remark, and yet he never +bought without a reason. For instance, if Quorm (a Corry Pond Indian) +brought bushel-baskets along to sell, Uncle Jacob took one, not because +he had not bushel-baskets enough, but to encourage Quorm. And if Old +Pete Brale wanted to let Uncle Jacob have an infirm, rickety wagon, and +take his pay in potatoes, Uncle Jacob traded, that Pete Brale might be +kept from starvation. And so of other things.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined, therefore, that as time went on all manner of +vehicles were there gathered together. Some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> these were in good +running order, while others had been bought partly with a view to their +being repaired and sold at a profit. The expression on Aunt Phebe's face +when Uncle Jacob brought home an addition to his interesting collection +was very striking. I remember particularly observing this at the coming +into harbor of a rattling, shackly, green-bottomed carryall, which had a +door at the back, and seats running lengthwise. It formerly belonged to +some person who, having then a large family of small children to get to +meeting, contrived a conveyance which would take in and discharge again +the greatest number with the least trouble.</p> + +<p>In this odd vehicle, which had been run under an overhanging apple-tree, +I often sat through the summer afternoon, now reading my book, now +watching the animal life about me, gaining useful knowledge from both. +Sometimes, when feeling like a boy again,—as I often did and do +feel,—I would amuse myself with playing <i>go to ride</i> in a comical old +chaise. It was set high, and pitched forward, the lining was ragged, the +back "light" gone, the stuffing running out of the cushions; yet there I +liked to sit, and "ride," and joggle up and down, as in the happy days +of boyhood. But not, as in those happy days, "hard as I could," for +reasons easy to guess.</p> + +<p>I trust no one will imagine that spacious yard to have been merely a +sort of safe anchorage, where all manner of disabled craft might run in +for shelter! Lest any words of mine should imply this, or seem to cast +blame on Uncle Jacob, let me hasten to say that he really required a +variety of "wheel-ed things" to carry on his business.</p> + +<p>Neither of the Mr. Carvers got their living wholly, or even chiefly, by +farming. They drew wood from lots owned by themselves, or by others, and +used their teams in any way, according as employment was offered them. +Thus heavy carts were wanted for heavy work, and light carts for light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +work, besides carryalls for dry and for rainy weather, and riding +wagons, because they were handy.</p> + +<p>For all the Summer Sweeting folks were hard workers, they knew how to +get up a good time, and enjoyed it too, as we shall see by the account +of one which Dorry gives in the following letter:—</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Dorry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sis,</span>—</p> + +<p>O, we've hurrahed and hurrahed and hurrahed ourselves hoarse! Such a +bully time! You'd better believe the old horses went some! And that +hay-cart went rattle and bump, rattle and thump,—seemed as if we should +jolt to pieces! But I've counted myself all over, and believe I'm all +here! Bubby Short's throat is so sore that all he can do is to lie flat +on the floor and wink his eyes. You see we cheered at every house, and +they came running to their windows, and some cheered back again, and +some waved and some laughed, and all of them stared. But part of the way +was through the woods.</p> + +<p>This morning Billy and Bubby Short and I went over to Aunt Phebe's of an +errand, to borrow a cup of dough. I wish mother could see how her stove +shines! And while we were sitting down there, having some fun with Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy, Uncle Jacob came in and said, "Mother, let's go +somewhere."</p> + +<p>She said, "Thank you! thank you! we shall be very happy to accept your +invitation. Girls, your father has given us an invitation! Boys, he +means you too!"</p> + +<p>"But you can't go,—can you?" Uncle Jacob cried out, and made believe he +didn't know what to make of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> it. O, he's such a droll man! "I thought +you couldn't leave the ironing," says he.</p> + +<p>"O yes, we can!" Hannah Jane said; and "O yes, we can!" they all cried +out.</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe said it would be entirely convenient, and told her girls to +shake out the sprinkled clothes to dry.</p> + +<p>"O, now," said Uncle Jacob, "who'd have thought of your saying 'yes.' I +expected you couldn't leave."</p> + +<p>Then they kept on talking and laughing. O, they are all so funny here! +Uncle Jacob tried to get off without going; but at last he said, "Well, +boys, we must catch Old Major."</p> + +<p>That's the old gray horse, you know. And we were long enough about it. +For, just as we got him into a corner, he'd up heels, and away he'd go. +And once he slapped his tail right in my face. But after a while we got +him into the barn.</p> + +<p>Then pretty soon Uncle Jacob put on a long face, and looked very sober, +and put his head in at the back kitchen door, and said he guessed we +should have to give up going, after all, for the mate to Old Major had +got to be shod, and the blacksmith had gone away.</p> + +<p>"Harness in the colt, then," Aunt Phebe said. "No matter about their +matching, if we only get there!"</p> + +<p>That colt is about twenty years old. He's black, and short, and takes +little stubby steps; and he's got a shaggy mane, that goes flop, flop, +flop every step he takes. But Old Major is bony, and has a long neck, +like the nose of a tunnel. Such a span as they made! What would my +mother say to see that span!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were harnessed in to the hay-cart. A hay-cart is a long cart that +has stakes stuck in all round it. We put boards across for benches. Aunt +Phebe brought out a whole armful of quite small flags, that they had +Independent Day, and we tied one to the end of every stake.</p> + +<p>Such a jolly time as we did have getting aboard! First all the baskets +and pails full of cake and pies were stowed away under the benches, and +jugs of water, and bottles of milk, and a hatchet, and some boiled eggs, +and apples and pears. Then uncle called out, "Come! where is everybody? +Tumble in! tumble in! Where's little Tommy?"</p> + +<p>Then we began to look about and to call "Tommy!" "Tommy!" "Tommy!" At +last Bubby Short said, "There he is, up there!" We all looked up, and +saw Tommy's face part way through a broken square of glass—I mean where +the glass was broken out. He said he couldn't "tum down, betause the +<i>roosted</i> was on his feets." You see, he'd got his feet tangled up in +Lucy Maria's worsteds.</p> + +<p>"O dear!" Lucy Maria said; "all that shaded pink!"</p> + +<p>When they brought him down, Uncle Jacob looked very sober, and said, +"Why, Tommy! Did you get into all that shaded pink?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't get in <i>all</i> of it," said Tommy. Then he told us he was taking +down the "gimmerlut to blower a hole with." Next he began to cry for his +new hat; and when he got his new hat, he began to cry for a posy to be +stuck in it. That little fellow never will go anywhere without a flower +stuck in his hat. Aunt Phebe says his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> grandmother began that notion +when her damask rosebush was in bloom.</p> + +<p>After we were all aboard, Uncle Jacob brought out the teakettle, and +slung it on behind with a rope. He said maybe mother would want a cup of +tea. Then they laughed at him, for he is the tea-drinker himself. Next +he brought out a long pan.</p> + +<p>"Now that's my cookie-pan!" Aunt Phebe said. "You don't cook clams in my +cookie-pan!"</p> + +<p>He made believe he was terribly afraid of Aunt Phebe, and trotted back +with it just like a little boy, and then came bringing out an old +sheet-iron fireboard.</p> + +<p>"Is this anybody's cookie-pan?" said he, then stowed it away in the +bottom of the cart. Bubby Short wanted to know what that was for.</p> + +<p>"That's for the clams," Uncle Jacob said.</p> + +<p>But we couldn't tell whether he meant so. We never can tell whether +Uncle Jacob is funning or not. I haven't told you yet where we were +bound. We were bound to the shore. That's about six miles off. The last +thing that Uncle Jacob brought out was a stick that had strips of paper +tied to the end of it.</p> + +<p>"That's my flyflapper!" Aunt Phebe said. "What are you going to do with +my flyflapper?"</p> + +<p>He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy's face. Tommy is a +tip-top little chap; but he's apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to +drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and +then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he +fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the +snarls off his face, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> say, "There they go! Pick 'em up! pick 'em +up!" And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the +back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and +they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But +first he stood on his head, for 't was quite a sandy place. I drove part +of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn't hurrah any going. Some men +that we met would laugh and call out, "What'll you take for your span?" +And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, "How are +<i>you</i>, teakettle?" I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that +ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw +Billy's father coming, bringing Billy's grandmother in a horse and +chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn't +come.</p> + +<p>When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for +there wasn't a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to +us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I +carried the bucket. Isn't it funny that clams live in the mud? How do +you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle +Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the +mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon +got the bucket full.</p> + +<p>Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up +sticks and bits of boards. "Bring them where you see a smoke rising," +says he.</p> + +<p>O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet! +Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> a good way, and put his iron +fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams +on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of +anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard!</p> + +<p>And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the +teakettle, and made a fire under it,—to make a cup of tea for mother, +he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the +teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side +where the wind wouldn't blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy's +grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions, +and shawls all over her, and Billy's father read things out of the +newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn't +work.</p> + +<p>It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter +the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed +round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to +have shingles. You'd better believe those clams tasted good! Then all +the other things were passed round. O, I don't believe any other woman +can make things as good as Aunt Phebe's! Georgianna had a frosted +plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle +Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked +Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,—a great deal +better than Aunt Phebe's girls. Then Georgianna would say, "O, I know +you! you want my frosted cake!" Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips +together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps +every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> body a-laughing, even Billy's grandmother. He was just as clever +to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,—Aunt Phebe +don't carry her good dishes, they get broken so,—and shocked out the +clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you'll get +a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. 'T was fun +to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little +pools of water. And I found lots of <i>blanc-mange</i> moss. We boys ran ever +so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn't very cold.</p> + +<p>When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart +pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand, +and blew it off on the water. Billy said, "Now the fishes can have a +pocket-handkerchief." And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been +in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got 'em sopping wet. +Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the +shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave +us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle +Jacob hadn't any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his +arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the +boat clapped.</p> + +<p>O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and +rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped +squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live +fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I +suppose you don't believe that! But it's true,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> for I've seen them. In +the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don't go to work and +build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees, +and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to +go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny, +something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And +every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a +real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my +squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got +quite close up,—near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to +run!</p> + +<p>Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a +house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to +their windows to look, for there isn't much travelling on that road. O, +I'm so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I'm sorry we've got home, I +wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over +at Aunt Phebe's. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us +to come over. Bubby Short's jumped up. He says his throat feels better +now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, +sis. This letter is from your</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Brother Dorry.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I remember what they were clapping about. It happened that I came out +from the city that day. The weather was so fine, I felt as if I must +take one more look at the country, before winter came and spoiled every +bright leaf and flower. I think the flowers and leaves seem very +precious in the fall, when we know frost is waiting to kill them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was quite a disappointment to find the people all gone, and I was +glad enough when at last the old hay-cart came rattling down the lane. +Such a jolly set as they were! I jumped them out at the back of the +cart.</p> + +<p>That little Tommy was always such a funny chap. Just like his father for +all the world. When the girls took their things off, he got himself into +an old sack, and then tied on one of his mother's checked aprons, and +began to parade round. When Lucy Maria saw him she took him up stairs +and put more things on him, and dressed him up for Mother Goose. I don't +know when I've seen anything so droll. They put skirts on him, till they +made him look like a little fat old woman. He had a black silk +handkerchief pinned over his shoulders, and a ruffle round his neck, and +an old-fashioned, high-crowned nightcap on. Then spectacles. They put a +peaked piece of dough on the end of his nose, to make it look like a +hooked nose, and then set him down in the arm-chair. He kept sober as a +judge. Bubby Short laughed till he tumbled down and rolled himself +across the floor. Lucy Maria sent us out of the room to see something in +the yard, and when we came back, there was a little old man with his hat +on, and a cane, sitting opposite Mother Goose. He was made of a +stuffed-out overcoat, trousers with sticks of wood in them, and boots. +"That is Father Goose," Lucy Maria said. Then Bubby Short had to tumble +down again; and this time he rolled way through the entry, out on the +doorstep!</p> + +<p>Then came such a pleasant evening! Aunt Phebe said 't was a pity for +Grandmother to go to getting supper, they might as well all come over. +Where anybody had to boil the teakettle and set the table, half a dozen +more or less didn't matter much.</p> + +<p>So we all ate supper together, and it seemed to me I never did get into +such a jolly set! Uncle Jacob and Aunt Phebe were so funny that we could +hardly eat. And in the evening—But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> 't is no use. If I begin to tell, +and tell all I want to, there won't be any room left for the letters.</p> + + +<p>Now comes quite a gap in the correspondence. There must have been many +letters written about this time, which were, unfortunately not +preserved. The next in order I find to be a short epistle from Bubby +Short, written, it would seem, soon after the winter holidays.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter from Bubby Short.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>My mother is all the one that I ever wrote a letter to before. So excuse +poor writing, and this pen isn't a very good pen to write with I bet. I +am very sorry that you can't come back quite yet. I hope that it won't +be a fever that you are going to have. Does your grandma think that 't +is going to be a fever? Do you take bitter medicine? I never had a +fever. I take little pills every time I have anything. My mother likes +little pills best now. But she used to make me take bitter stuff. Once +she put it in my mouth and I wouldn't swallow it down. Then she pinched +my nose together and it made me swallow it down. Once I ate up all the +little pills out of the bottle, and she was very scared about it. It +wasn't very full. But the doctor said that it wouldn't hurt me any if I +did eat them. How many presents did you have? I had five. Dorry he says +he hopes that it won't be a slow fever that you are going to have if you +do have any fever, for he wants you to hurry and come back. Some new +fellows have come. One is a tip-top one. And one good "pitcher." I hope +you will come back very soon, 'cause I like you very much.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Do you know who 't is writing? I am that one all you fellers call</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Bubby Short.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>As may be gathered from the foregoing letter, William Henry did not go +back to school with the rest. He was taken ill just at the close of +vacation, and remained at home until spring. Grandmother said it was +such a comfort that it didn't happen away. And it seemed to me that this +thought really made her enjoy his being sick at home.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the people at Summer Sweeting place seemed ready to get +enjoyment from everything, even from gruel, which is usually considered +flat. I passed a day there at a time when William Henry was subsisting +on this very simple but wholesome food. Aunt Phebe and Uncle Jacob came +in to take tea at grandmother's. The old lady was bringing out her nice +things to set on the table, when Aunt Phebe said suddenly, I suppose +seeing a hungry look in Billy's eyes. She said,—</p> + +<p>"Now, Grandmother, I wouldn't bring those out. Let's have a gruel +supper, and all fare alike! We'll make it in different ways,—milk +porridge, oatmeal, corn-starch,—and I think 't will be a pleasant +change."</p> + +<p>"Gruel is very nourishing, well made," said Grandmother; "but what will +Mr. Fry say?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fry will say," I answered, "that milk porridge, with Boston +crackers, is a dish fit for a king."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid Jacob won't think he's been to supper," said Grandmother.</p> + +<p>"O yes," said Uncle Jacob, "I'll think I have at any rate. But I like +mine the way the man in the moon did his, or part of the way."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Aunt Phebe, "I understand! The last part—the 'plum' part!"</p> + +<p>"O, don't all eat gruel for me," said Billy. "Course I sha' n't be a +baby, and cry for things!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Aunt Phebe seemed resolved to develop the gruel idea to its utmost. +She made all kinds,—Indian meal, oatmeal, corn-starch, flour, mixed +meals, wheat; made it sweetened, and spiced with plums, and plain. One +kind, that she called "thickened milk," was delicious. "Course" we had +one cup of tea, and bread and butter, and I can truly say that I have +eaten many a worse supper than a "gruel supper."</p> + +<p>Here is a letter from William Henry to Dorry, written when he began to +get well:—</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry's Letter to Dorry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Dorry,</span>—</p> + +<p>I'm just as hungry as anything, now, about all the time. My grandmother +says she's so glad to see me eat again; and so am I glad to eat myself. +Things taste better than they did before. Maybe I shall come back to +school again pretty soon, my father says; but my grandmother guesses not +very, because she thinks I should have a relapse if I did. A relapse is +to get sick when you're getting well; and, if I should get sick again, O +what should I do! for I want to go out-doors. If they'd only let me go +out, I'd saw wood all day, or anything. There isn't much fun in being +sick, I tell you, Dorry; but getting well, O, that's the thing! I tell +you getting well's jolly! I have very good things sent to me about every +day, and when I want to make molasses candy my grandmother says yes +every time, if she isn't frying anything in the spider herself; and then +I wait and whistle to my sister's canary-bird, or else look out the +window. But she tells me to stand a yard back, because she says cold +comes in the window-cracks: and my uncle Jacob he took the yardstick one +day, and measured a yard, and put a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> chalk mark there, where my toes +must come to, he said. If I hold the yardstick a foot and a half up from +the floor, my sister's kitty can jump over it tip-top. My sister has +made a Red-Riding-Hood cloak for her kitty, and a muff to put her fore +paws in, and takes her out.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p099a.jpg" width="448" height="262" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 427px;"> +<img src="images/p099b.jpg" width="427" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Yesterday Uncle Jacob came into the house and said he had brought a +carriage to carry me over to Aunt Phebe's; and when I looked out it +wasn't anything but a wheelbarrow. My grandmother said I must wrap up, +for 't was the first time; so she put two overcoats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> on me, and my +father's long stockings over my shoes and stockings, and a good many +comforters, and then a great shawl over my head so I needn't breathe the +air; and 't was about as bad as to stay in. Uncle Jacob asked her if +there was a Billy in that bundle, when he saw it. "Hallo, in there!" +says he. "Hallo, out there!" says I. Then he took me up in his arms, and +carried me out, and doubled me up, and put me down in the wheelbarrow, +and threw the buffalo over me; but one leg got undoubled, and fell out, +so I had to drag my foot most all the way. Aunt Phebe undid me, and set +me close to the fire; and Lucy Maria and the rest of them brought me +story-books and picture-papers; and Tommy, he kept round me all the +time, making me whittle him out little boats out of a shingle, and we +had some fun sailing 'em in a milk-pan. Aunt Phebe had chicken broth for +dinner, and I had a very good appetite. She let me look into all her +closets and boxes, and let me open all her drawers. But I had to have a +little white blanket pinned on when I went round, because she was afraid +her room wasn't kept so warm as my grandmother's. Soon as Uncle Jacob +came in and saw that little white blanket he began to laugh. "So Aunt +Phebe has got out the <i>signal of distress</i>," says he. He calls that +blanket the "signal of distress," because when any of them don't feel +well, or have the toothache or anything, she puts it on them. She says +he shall have to wear it some time, and I guess he'll look funny, he's +so tall, with it on. The fellers played base-ball close to Aunt Phebe's +garden. I tell you I shall be glad enough to get out-doors. I tell you +it isn't much fun to look out the window and see 'em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> play ball. But +Uncle Jacob says if the ball hit me 't would knock me over now. Aunt +Phebe was just as clever, and let me whittle right on the floor, and +didn't care a mite. And we made corn-balls. But the best fun was finding +things, when I was rummaging. I found some pictures in an old trunk that +she said I might have, and I want you to give them to Bubby Short to put +in the Panorama he said he was going to make. He said the price to see +it would be two cents. They are true ones, for they are about Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy. One day, when he was a good deal smaller feller +than he is now, he went out when it had done raining one day, and the +wind blew hard, and he found an old umbrella, and did just what is in +the pictures. The school-teacher that boarded there, O, she could draw +cows and pigs and anything; and she drew these pictures, and wrote about +them underneath.</p> + +<p>I wish you would write me a letter, and tell Benjie to and Bubby Short.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="smcap">William Henry.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. What are you fellers playing now?</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Thinking the school-teacher's pictures might please other little Tommys, +I have taken some pains to procure them for insertion here. Little +"fellers" usually are fond of carrying umbrellas,—large size preferred. +Nothing suited Tommy better than marching off to school of a rainy day +with one up full spread, provided he could hold it. His cousin Myra once +took an old umbrella and cut it down into a small one, by chopping off +the ends of the sticks, supposing he would be delighted with it. But no, +he wanted a "<i>man's one</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>TOMMY ON HIS TRAVELS.</h4> + +<p>Tommy sets forth upon his travels around the house, taking with him his +whip.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"> +<img src="images/p102a.jpg" width="336" height="339" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;"> +<img src="images/p102b.jpg" width="339" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>At the first corner he picks up an umbrella. A larger boy opens the +umbrella, and shows him the way to hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> it. Being an old umbrella, it +shuts down again. But Tommy still keeps on in his way.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/p103a.jpg" width="362" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>At the second corner a gust of wind takes down the umbrella, and blows +his capes over his head. He pushes on, however, whip in hand, dragging +the umbrella behind him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/p103b.jpg" width="362" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>On turning the third corner a hen runs between his legs, and throws him +down in the mud.</p> + +<p>He is taken inside, stripped and washed, and left sitting upon the floor +in his knit shirt, waiting for clean clothes. He can reach the handle of +the molasses-jug. He does reach the handle, and tips over the jug. His +mother finds him eating molasses off the floor with his forefinger. +Tommy looks up with a sweet smile.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 463px;"> +<img src="images/p104.jpg" width="463" height="640" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here we have William Henry back at school again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/p105.jpg" width="420" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>I've been here three days now. I came safe all the way, but that glass +vial you put that medicine into, down in the corner of the trunk, broke, +and some white stockings down there, they soaked it all up; but I sha' +n't have to take it now, and no matter, I guess, for I feel well, all +but my legs feeling weak so I can't run hardly any. When I got here, the +boys were playing ball; but they all ran to shake hands, and slapped my +shoulders so they almost slapped me down, and hollered out, "How are +you, Billy?" "How fares ye?" "Welcome back!" "Got well?" "Good for you, +Billy!" Gus Beals—he's the great tall one we call "Mr. Augustus"—he +called out, "How are you, red-top?" And then Dorry called out to him, +"How are you, hay-pole?" Dorry and Bubby Short want me to tell you to +thank Aunt Phebe for their doughnuts,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and you, too, for that molasses +candy. The candy got soft, and the paper jammed itself all into the +candy, but Bubby Short says he loves paper when it has molasses candy +all over it. I gave some of the things to Benjie. Something hurt me all +the way coming, in the toe of my boot; and when I got here I looked, and +'t was a five-cent piece right in the toe! I know who 't was! 'T was +Uncle Jacob when he made believe look to see if that boot-top wasn't +made of mighty poor leather. I went to spend it yesterday, down to the +Two Betseys' shop. Lame Betsey called me a poor little dear, and was +just going to kiss me, but I twisted my face round. I'm too big for all +that now, I guess. She looked for something to give me, and was just +going to give me a stick of candy; but the other Betsey said 't was no +use to give little boys candy, for they'd only swallow it right down, so +she gave me a row of pins, for she said pins were proper handy things +when your buttons ripped off. Just when I was coming back from the Two +Betseys' shop I met Gapper Skyblue. He goes about selling cakes now. A +good many boys were round him, in a hurry to buy first, and all you +could hear was, "Here, Gapper!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p106.jpg" width="448" height="276" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This way, Gapper!" "You know me, Gapper!" "Me, me, me!" One boy—he's a +new boy—spoke up loud and said, "Mr. Skyblue, please attend to me, if +you please, for I have five pennies to spend!" He came from Jersey. The +fellers call him "Old Wonder Boy," because he brags and tells such big +stories. But now, just as soon as he begins to tell, Dorry begins too, +and always tells the biggest,—makes them up, you know. O, I tell you, +Dorry gives it to him good! You'd die a laughing to hear Dorry, and so +do all the fellers. W. B.,—that's what we call Old Wonder Boy +sometimes,—W stands for Wonder, and B stands for Boy,—he says cents +are not cents; says they are pennies, for the Jersey folks call them +pennies, and he guesses they know. He says he gets his double handful of +pennies to spend every day down in Jersey. But Bubby Short says he knows +that's a whopper, for he knows there wouldn't anybody's mother give them +their double handful of pennies to spend every day, nor cents either, +nor their father either. And then Dorry told Old Wonder Boy that he +supposed it took his double handful of pennies to buy a roll of lozenges +down in Jersey. Then W. B. said that our lozenges were all flour and +water, but down in Jersey they were clear sugar, and just as plenty as +huckleberries. Dorry said he didn't believe any huckleberries grew out +there, or if they did, they'd be nothing but red ones, for the ground +was red out in Jersey. But W. B. said no matter if the ground was red, +the huckleberries were just as black as Yankee huckleberries, and +blacker too, and three times bigger, and ten times thicker. Said he +picked twenty quarts one day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dorry said, "Poh, that wasn't much of a pick!" Says he, "Now I'll tell +you a huckleberry story that's worth something." Then all the boys began +to hit elbows, for they knew Dorry would make up some funny thing. Says +he: "I went a huckleberrying once to Wakonok Swamp, and I carried a +fourteen-quart tin pail, and a great covered basket, besides a good many +quart and pint things. You'd better believe they hung thick in that +swamp! I found a thick spot, and I slung my fourteen-quart tin pail +round my waist, and picked with both hands, and ate off the bushes with +my mouth all the while. I got all my things full without stirring two +yards from the spot, and then I didn't know what to do. But I'll tell +you what I did. I took off my jacket, and cut my fishing-line, and tied +up the bottom ends of my jacket sleeves and picked them both full. And +then I didn't know what to do next. But I'll tell you what I did. I took +off my overalls, and tied up the bottoms of their legs, and picked them +so full you wouldn't know but there was a boy standing up in 'em!" Then +the boys all clapped.</p> + +<p>"Well," Old Wonder Boy said, "how did you get them home?"</p> + +<p>"O, got them home easy enough," Dorry said. "First I put the overalls +over my shoulders, like a boy going pussy-back. I slung all the quart +and pint things round my waist, and hung the covered basket on one arm, +and took the fourteen-quart tin pail in that same hand. Then I tied my +jacket to the end of my fishing-pole, and held it up straight in my +other hand like—like a flag in a dead calm!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>O, you ought to 've seen the boys,—how they winked at one another and +puffed out their cheeks; and some of 'em rolled over and over down hill +to keep from laughing! Bubby Short got behind the fence, and put his +face between two bars, and called out, "S—e—double l!" But Dorry says +they don't know what a "s—e—double l" is down in Jersey. But I don't +believe that W. B. believes Dorry's stories; for I looked him in the +face, and he had a mighty sly look when he asked Dorry how it was he got +his huckleberries home.</p> + +<p>To-day they got a talking about potatoes. Old Wonder Boy said that down +in Jersey they grow so big you have to pry 'em up out of the hill, and +it don't take much more than two to make a peck. Dorry told him that +down in Maine you could stand on top the potato-hills and look all round +the country, they were so high; and he asked W. B. how they planted 'em +in Jersey, with their eyes up or down? He said he didn't know which way +they did turn their eyes. Then Dorry told him the Yankees always planted +potatoes eyes up, so they could see which way to grow. Said he planted a +hill of potatoes in his father's garden, last summer, with their eyes +all down, and waited and waited, but they didn't come up. And when he +had waited a spell longer, he raked off the top of that hill of +potatoes, and all he saw was some roots sticking up. And he began to dig +down. And he kept digging. Followed their stems. But he never got to the +potato-tops; and says he, "I never did get to those potato-tops!" O, you +ought to 've heard the boys!</p> + +<p>Old Wonder Boy wanted to know where Dorry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> thought they'd gone to. Dorry +thought to himself a minute, and looked just as sober, and then says he, +just like a school-teacher, "The earth, in the middle, is afire. I think +when they got deep enough to feel the warm, they guessed 't was the sun, +and so kept heading that way."</p> + +<p>Is the world afire in the middle? Dorry told me that part of his story +was really true. How Uncle Jacob would laugh to sit down and hear Dorry +and Old Wonder Boy tell about whales. W. B. calls 'em wales. His uncle +is a ship-captain, he says, and once he saw a wale, and the wale was +making for his ship, and it chased 'em. And, no matter how they steered, +that wale would chase. And by and by, in a calm day, he got under the +vessel and boosted her up out of water, when all the crew gave a +yell,—such a horrid yell that the wale let 'em down so sudden that the +waves splashed up to the tops of the masts, and they thought they were +all drowned.</p> + +<p>"O, poh!" Dorry cried out. "My uncle was a regular whaler, and went a +whaling for his living. And once he was cruising about the +whaling-grounds and 't was in a place where the days were so short that +the nights lasted almost all day. And they got chased by a whale. And he +kept chasing them. Night and day. And there came up a gale of wind that +lasted three days and nights; and the ship went like lightning, night +and day, the whale after them. And, when the wind went down, the whale +was so tuckered that he couldn't swim a stroke. So he floated. Then the +cap'n sang out to 'em to lower a boat. And they did. And the cap'n got +in and took a couple of his men to row him. The whale was rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> longer +than a liberty-pole. About as long as a liberty-pole and a half. He was +asleep, and they steered for the tail end. A whale's head is about as +big as the Two Betseys' shop, and 't is filled with clear oil, without +any trying out. The cap'n landed on the whale's tail, and went along up +on tiptoe, and the men rowed the boat alongside, and kept even with him; +and, when he got towards her ears, he took off his shoes, and threw 'em +to the men to catch. After a while he got to the tip-top of her head. +Now I'll tell you what he had in his hand. He had a great junk of cable +as big round as the trunk of a tree, and not quite a yard long. In one +end of it there was a point of a harpoon stuck in, and the other end of +it was lighted. He told the men to stand ready. Then he took hold of the +cable with both hands, and with one mighty blow he stuck that pointed +end deep in the whale's head, and then gave one jump into the boat, and +he cried out to the men, 'Row! row for your lives! To the tail end! If +you want to live, row!' And before that whale could turn round they were +safe aboard the ship! But now I'll tell you the best part of the whole +story. They didn't have any more long dark nights after that. They kept +throwing over bait to keep her chasing, and the great lamp blazed, and +as fast as the oil got hot it tried out more blubber, and that whale +burned as long as there was a bit of the inside of him left. Flared up, +and lighted up the sea, and drew the fishes, and they drew more whales; +and they got deep loaded, and might have loaded twenty more ships. And +when they left they took a couple in tow,—of whales,—and knocked out +their teeth for ivory, and then sold their carcasses to an empty +whaler."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dorry says some parts of this story are true. But he didn't say which +parts. Said I must look in the whale-book and find out.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I wish you would please to send me a silver three-cent piece or +five-cent. Two squaws have got a tent a little ways off, and the boys +are going to have their fortunes taken. But you have to cross the +squaws' hands with silver.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 437px;"> +<img src="images/p112.jpg" width="437" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Georgianna's Letter to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Brother Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>O Billy, my pretty, darling little bird is dead! My kitty did it, and O, +I don't know what I shall do, for I love my kitty if she did kill my +birdie; but I don't forget about it, and I keep thinking of my birdie +every time my kitty comes in the room. I was putting some seeds in the +glass, and my birdie looked so cunning; and I held<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> a lump of white +sugar in my lips, and let him peck it. And while I was thinking what a +dear little bird he was, I forgot he could fly out; but he could, for +the door was open, and he flew to the window. I didn't think anything +about kitty. It flew up to that bracket you made, and then it went away +up in the corner just as high as it could, on a wooden peg that was +there. I didn't know what made it flutter its wings and tremble so, but +grandmother pointed her finger down to the corner, on the floor, and +there was my kitty stretching out and looking up at my bird. And that +was what made poor birdie tremble so. And it dropped right down. Before +we could run across to catch kitty, he dropped right down into her +mouth. I never thought she could get him. I didn't know what made +grandmother hurry. I didn't know that kitties could charm birds, but +they do. She didn't have him a minute in her teeth, and I thought it +couldn't be dead. But, O Billy, my dear birdie never breathed again! I +warmed him in my hands, and tried to make him stir his wings, but he +never breathed again. Now the tears are coming again. I thought I wasn't +going to cry any more. But they come themselves; when I don't know it, +they come; and O, it was such a good birdie! When I came home from +school I used to run to the cage, and he would sing to meet me. And I +put chickweed over his cage.</p> + +<p>Grandmother has put away that empty cage now. She's sorry, too. Did you +think a grandmother would be sorry about a little bird as that? But +she'd rather give a good deal. When she put the plates on the table, and +rattled spoons, he used to sing louder and louder. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> in the morning +he used to wake me up, singing away so loud! Now, when I first wake up, +I listen. But O, it is so still now! Then in a minute I remember all +about it. Sometimes kitty jumps up on the bed, and puts her nose close +down, and purrs. But I say, "No, kitty. Get down. You killed little +birdie. I don't want to see you." But she don't know what I mean. She +rubs her head on my face, and purrs loud, and wants me to stroke her +back, and don't seem as if she had been bad. She used to be such a dear +little kitty. And so she is. She's pretty as a pigeon. Aunt Phebe says +she never saw such a pretty little gray and white kitty as she is. I was +going to have her drowned. But then I should cry for kitty too. Then I +should think how she looked all drowned, down at the bottom, just the +same way I do now how my birdie looked when it couldn't stir its little +wings, and its eyes couldn't move. My father says that kitty didn't know +any better. I hope so. I took off that pretty chain she had round her +neck. But grandmother thinks I had better put it on again. Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy says, "Don't kye, Dordie, I'll <i>bung</i> dat tat. I'll take a +tick and <i>bung</i> dat tat!" He calls me Dordie, I guess I rather have +kitty alive than let her be drowned, don't you? Grandmother wants you +not to catch cold and be sick.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate sister,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgianna.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Grandmother showed me how to write this letter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>A caged bird is never a very interesting object to me. But this little +canary of Georgie's was really a beautiful creature, and very +intelligent. They used to think that he listened for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> her step at noon +and night; for no sooner was it heard in the entry than he peeped out +with his little bright eyes, and tuned up, and sang away, as if to say, +"Glad! glad! glad you've come! glad you've come!"</p> + +<p>Then she would go to the cage and talk to him, and let him take sugar +from her mouth, and would hang fresh chickweed about its cage. Mornings +she used to sing, from her bed, and the bird would answer. Indeed, he +really seemed quite a companion for her.</p> + +<p>At the time the accident happened I had been staying for a few weeks at +the hotel, a mile or two off, and called at the farm that very day. Lucy +Maria told me, as I stopped at their door, what the kitten had done, and +how Georgianna had cried and mourned and could not be comforted.</p> + +<p>I found her sitting on the doorstep. She had placed the bird in a small +round basket, lined with cotton-wool, and was bending over, and stroking +it. I had always noticed the bird a great deal, used to play with it, +and whistle to make it sing louder and louder. The sight of me brought +all this back to her mind, and she burst into tears again, sobbing out, +"O, he never—will sing—any more! Dear little birdie! He had to fall +down! He couldn't—help it!"</p> + +<p>I talked with her awhile, in a cheerful way, and when she had become +quite calm I held out my hand and said, "Come, Georgie, don't you want +to go with me and find a pretty place where we can put birdie away, +under the soft grass? And we will plant a flower there."</p> + +<p>The idea of the soft grass and the flower seemed to please her. She took +my hand, and we went to look about.</p> + +<p>We thought the garden not a very good place, because it was dug up every +year, and the field would be mowed and trampled upon. But just over the +fence, back of the garden, we came upon some uneven ground, where the +old summer-sweeting trees grew. In one place there was a sudden pitch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +downwards, into a little hollow, which grass and plantain leaves made +almost forever green. For here was what they called the Boiling Spring. +The water bubbled out of the ground on the slope of the bank, and in +former times, before the well was dug, had been used in the family. +Several trees grew about there,—wild cherry, damson, and poplar,—and a +profusion of yellow flowers, wild ones. Some of these grandmother called +"Ladies' Slipper"; the others, "Sullendine." The spring had once been +stoned up and boxed over. But the boards were now rotting away, the +stones falling in, and our little hollow had quite a deserted look. The +water trickled out and ran away around the curve of the bank.</p> + +<p>Grandmother came with us, and Georgie's teacher, and Matilda and Tommy. +We hollowed out a little place under the wild-cherry tree, wrapped the +birdie in cotton-wool, lay him in, and covered him over with the green +sod. I then went down by the stone wall, where sweetbriers were growing, +dug up a very pretty little one, and set it out close by, so that it +might lean against the cherry-tree. Tommy kept very sober, and scarcely +spoke a word, till it was all over. He then said to me, in a very +earnest tone, "Mr. Fwy, now will another birdie grow up there?" I +suppose he was thinking of his father's planting corn and more corn +growing.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Little Sister,—</span></p> + +<p>I'm sorry your little birdie's dead! He was a nice singing birdie! But I +wouldn't cry. Maybe you'll have another one some time, if you're a good +little girl. Maybe father'll go to Boston and buy you one, or maybe +Cousin Joe will send one home to you, in a vessel, or maybe I'll catch +one, or maybe a man will come along with birds to sell, or maybe Aunt +Phebe's bird will lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> an egg and hatch one out. I wouldn't feel bad +about it. It isn't any use to feel bad about it. Maybe, if he hadn't +been killed, he'd 'a' died. Dorry says, "Tell her, 'Don't you cry,' and +I'll give her something, catch her a rabbit or a squirrel!" Says he'll +tease his sister for her white mice. Says he'll tease her with the tears +in his eyes,—or else her banties.</p> + +<p>How do you like your teacher? Do you learn any lessons at school? You +must try to get up above all the other ones. We've got two new teachers +this year. One is clever, and we like that one, but the other one isn't +very. We call the good one Wedding Cake, and we call the other one Brown +Bread. Did grandmother tell you about the Fortune Tellers? We went +to-day and she told mine true. She said my father was a very kind man, +and said I was quick to get mad, and said I had just got something I'd +wanted a long time (watch, you know), and said I should have something +else that I wanted, but didn't say when. I wonder how she knew I wanted +a gun. I thought perhaps somebody told her, and laid it to Old Wonder +Boy, for we two had been talking about guns. But he flared up just like +a flash of powder. "There. Now you needn't blame that on to me!" says +he. "You fellers always do blame everything on to me!" Sometimes when +somebody touches him he hollers out, "Leave me loose! Leave me loose!" +Dorry says that's the way fellers talk down in Jersey. The Fortune +Teller told W. B. that he came from a long way off, and that he wanted +to be a soldier, but he'd better give up that, for he wouldn't dare to +go to war, without he went behind to sell pies. All of us laughed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +hear that, for Old Wonder Boy is quick to get scared. But he is always +straightening himself up, and looking big, and talking about his native +land, and what he would do for his native land, and how he would fight +for his native land, and how he would die for his native land. He says +that why she told him that kind of a fortune was because he gave her +pennies and not silver money. His uncle that goes cap'n of a vessel has +sent him a letter, and in the letter it said that he had a sailor aboard +his ship that used to come to this school.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p118.jpg" width="448" height="290" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>I was going to tell you a funny story about W. B.'s getting scared, but +Dorry he keeps teasing me to go somewhere. I made these joggly letters +when he tickled my ears with his paint-brush. Has your pullet begun to +lay yet? I hope my rooster won't be killed. Tell them not to. Benjie +says he had a grand great rooster. It was white and had green and purple +tail feathers, O, very long tail feathers, and stood 'most as high as a +barrel of flour, with great yellow legs, and had a beautiful crow, and +could drive away every other one that showed his head, and he set his +eyes by that rooster, but when he got home they had killed him for +broth, and when he asked 'em where his rooster was they brought out the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +wish-bone and two tail feathers, and that was all there was left of him. +I wouldn't have poor little kitty drowned way down in the deep water +'cause to drown a kitty couldn't make a birdie alive again. Have your +flowers bloomed out yet? You must be a good little girl, and try to +please your grandmother all you can.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Now Dorry's run to head off a loose horse, and I'll tell you about +Old Wonder Boy's getting scared. It was one night when—Now there comes +Dorry back again! But next time I will.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Sister, about Old Wonder Boy's Fright.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sister,—</span></p> + +<p>I will put that little story I am going to tell you right at the +beginning, before Dorry and Bubby Short get back. I mean about W. B.'s +getting scared. But don't you be scared, for after all 't was—no, I +mean after all 't wasn't—but wait and you'll know by and by, when I +tell you. 'T was one night when Dorry and I and some more fellers were a +sitting here together, and we all of us heard some thick boots coming-a +hurrying up the stairs, and the door came a banging open, and W. B. +pitched in, just as pale as a sheet, and couldn't but just breathe. And +he tried to speak, but couldn't, only one word at once, and catching his +breath between, just so,—"Shut—the—door!—Do!—Do!—shut—the door!" +Then we shut up the door, and Bubby Short stood his back up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> against it +because 't wouldn't quite latch, and now I will tell you what it was +that scared him. Not at the first of it, but I shall tell it just the +same way we found it out.</p> + +<p>Says he, "I was making a box, and when I got it done 't was dark, but I +went to carry the carpenter's tools back to him, because I promised to. +And going along," says he, "I thought I heard a funny noise behind me, +but I didn't think very much about it, but I heard it again, and I +looked over my shoulder, and I saw something white behind me, a chasing +me. I went faster, and then that went faster. Then I went slower, and +then that went slower. And then I got scared and ran as fast as I could, +and looked over my shoulder and 't was keeping up. But it didn't run +with feet, nor with legs, for then I shouldn't 'a' been scared. But it +came—O, I don't know how it came, without anything to go on."</p> + +<p>Dorry asked him, "How did it look?"</p> + +<p>"O,—white. All over white," says W. B.</p> + +<p>"How big was it?" Bubby Short asked him.</p> + +<p>"O,—I don't know," says W. B. "First it looked about as big as a +pigeon, but every time I looked round it seemed to grow bigger and +bigger."</p> + +<p>"Maybe 't was a pigeon," says Dorry. "Did it have any wings?"</p> + +<p>"Not a wing," says W. B.</p> + +<p>"Maybe 't was a white cat," says Mr. Augustus.</p> + +<p>"O, poh, cat!" says W. B.</p> + +<p>"Or a poodle dog," says Benjie.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, poodle dog!" says W. B.</p> + +<p>"Or a rabbit," says Bubby Short.</p> + +<p>"O, go 'way with your rabbit!" says W. B. "Didn't I tell you it hadn't +any feet or legs to go with?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then how could it go?" Mr. Augustus asked him.</p> + +<p>"That's the very thing," said W. B.</p> + +<p>"Snakes do," says Bubby Short.</p> + +<p>"But a snake wouldn't look white," says Benjie.</p> + +<p>"Without 't was scared," says Dorry.</p> + +<p>I said I guessed I knew. Like enough 't was a ghost of something.</p> + +<p>I said like enough of a robin or some kind of bird.</p> + +<p>"Of what?" then they all asked me.</p> + +<p>"That he'd stolen the eggs of," says Dorry.</p> + +<p>"O yes!" says Old Wonder Boy. "It's easy enough to laugh, in the light +here, but I guess you'd 'a' been scared, seeing something chasing you in +the dark, and going up and down, and going tick, tick, tick, every time +it touched ground, and sometimes it touched my side too."</p> + +<p>"For goodness gracious!" says Dorry. "Can't you tell what it seemed most +like?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it didn't seem most like anything. It didn't run, nor walk, +nor fly, nor creep, nor glide along. And when I got to the Great +Elm-Tree, I cut round that tree, and ran this way, and that did too."</p> + +<p>"Where is it now?" Dorry asked him.</p> + +<p>"O, don't!" says W. B. "Don't open the door. 'T is out there."</p> + +<p>"Come, fellers," Dorry said, "let's go find it."</p> + +<p>Benjie said, "Let's take something to hit it with!" And he took an +umbrella and I took the bootjack, and Bubby Short took the towel horse, +and Mr. Augustus took a hair-brush, and Dorry took his boot with his arm +run down in it, and first we opened the door a crack and didn't go out, +but peeped out, but didn't see anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> there. Then we went out a +little ways, and then we didn't see anything. And pretty soon, going +along towards the stairs, Bubby Short stepped on something. "What's +that?" says he. And he jumped, and we all flung our things at it. "Hold +the light!" Dorry cried out.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p122.jpg" width="448" height="243" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Then W. B. brought out the light, and there wasn't anything there but a +carpenter's reel, with a chalk line wound up on it, and they picked it +up and began to wind up, and when they came to the end of it—where do +you s'pose the other end was? In W. B.'s pocket! and his ball and some +more things held it fast there, and that chalk-line reel was what went +bobbing up and down behind Old Wonder Boy every step he took,—bob, bob, +bobbing up and down, for there was a hitch in the line and it couldn't +unwind any more, and the line under the door was why 't wouldn't latch, +and O, but you ought to 've heard the fellers how they roared! and Bubby +Short rolled over on the floor, and Dorry he tumbled heels over head on +all the beds, and we all shouted and hurrahed so the other fellers came +running to see what was up, and then the teachers came to see who was +flinging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> things round so up here, and to see what was the matter, but +there couldn't anybody tell what the matter was for laughing, and W. B. +he looked so sheepish! O, if it wasn't gay! How do you like this story? +That part where it touched his side was when that reel caught on +something and so jerked the string some. Now I must study my lesson.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. When you send a box don't send very many clothes in it, but send +goodies. I tell you things taste good when a feller's away from his +folks. Dorry's father had a picture taken of Dorry's little dog and sent +it to him, and it looks just as natural as some boys. Tell Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy he may sail my boat once. 'T is put away up garret in that +corner where I keep things, side of that great long-handled thing, +grandmother's warming-pan. I mean that little sloop boat I had when I's +a little feller.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Georgianna's Letter to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Brother Billy,</span>——</p> + +<p>Kitty isn't drowned. I've got ever so many new dolls. My grandmother +went to town, not the same day my kitty did that, but the next day, and +she brought me home a new doll, and that same day she went there my +father went to Boston, and he brought me home a very big one,——no, not +very, but quite big,——and Aunt Phebe went a visiting to somebody's +house that very day, and she brought me home a doll, and while she was +gone away Hannah Jane dressed over one of Matilda's old ones<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> new, and +none of the folks knew that the others were going to give me a doll, and +then Uncle J. said that if it was the family custom to give Georgianna a +doll, he would give Georgianna a doll, and he went to the field and +catched the colt, and tackled him up into the riding wagon on purpose, +and then he started off to town, and when he rode up to our back door +there was a great dolly, the biggest one I had, and she was sitting down +on the seat, just like a live one. And she had a waterfall, and she had +things to take off and on. Then Uncle J. asked me what I should do with +my old dollies that were 'most worn out. And I said I didn't know what I +should. And then Uncle J. said that he would take the lot, for +twenty-five cents a head, to put up in his garden, for scarecrows, and +he asked me if I would sell, and I said I would. And he put the little +ones on little poles and the big ones on tall poles, with their arms +stretched out, and the one with a long veil looked the funniest, and so +did the one dressed up like a sailor boy, but one arm was broke off of +him, and a good many of their noses too. The one that had on old woman's +clothes Uncle J. put a pipe in her mouth. And the one that had a pink +gauze dress, but 't is all faded out now, and a long train, but the +train was torn very much, that one has a great bunch of +flowers——paper——pinned on to her, and another in her hand, and the +puppy he barks at 'em like everything. My pullet lays, little ones, you +know. I hope she won't do like Lucy Maria's Leghorn hen. That one flies +into the bedroom window every morning, and lays eggs on the bedroom bed. +For maybe 't would come in before I got up. My class has begun to learn +geography, and my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> father has bought me a new geography. But I guess I +sha' n't like to learn it very much if the backside is hard as the +foreside is. Uncle J. says no need to worry your mind any about that old +fowl, for he's so tough he couldn't be killed. I wish you would tell me +how long he could live if it wasn't killed, for Uncle J. says they grow +tougher every year, and if you should let one live too long, then he +can't die. But I guess he's funning, do you? Our hens scratched and +scratched up some of my flowers, and so did the rain wash some up that +night it came down so hard, but one pretty one bloomed out this morning, +but it has budded back again now. Aunt Phebe says she sends her love to +you, tied up with this pretty piece of blue ribbon. She says, if you +want to, you can take the ribbon and wear it for a neck bow. Grandmother +says how do you know but that sailor that went to your school in Old +Wonder Boy's uncle's vessel is that big boy, that bad one that ran away, +you called Tom Cush?</p> + +<p>Father laughs to hear about Old Wonder Boy, and he says a bragger ought +to be laughed at, and bragging is a bad thing. But he don't want you to +pick out all the bad things about a boy to send home in your letters; +says next time you must send home a good thing about him, because he +thinks every boy you see has some good things as well as some bad +things.</p> + +<p>A dear little baby has moved in the house next to our house. It lets me +hold her, and its mother lets me drag her out. It's got little bits of +toes, and it's got a little bit of a nose, and it says "Da da! da da! da +da!" And when I was dragging her out, the wheel went over a poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> little +butterfly, but I guess it was dead before. O, its wings were just as +soft! and 't was a yellow one. And I buried it up in the ground close to +where I buried up my little birdie, side of the spring.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate sister,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgianna.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Among the other letters I find the following, from Tom Cush. As the +people at Summer Sweeting place had been told the circumstances of his +running away, it was not only proper, but just, that William Henry +should send them this letter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter from Tom Cush to Dorry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend,</span>——</p> + +<p>I have not seen you for a great while. I hope you are in good health. +Does William Henry go to school there now? And does Benjie go, and +little Bubby Short? I hope they are in good health. Do the Two Betseys +keep shop there now? Is Gapper Skyblue alive now? I am in very good +health. I go to sea now. That's where I went when I went away from +school. I suppose all the boys hate me, don't they? But I don't blame +them any for hating me. I should think they would all of them hate me. +For I didn't act very well when I went to that school. Our captain knows +about that school, for he is uncle to a boy that has begun to go. He's +sent a letter to him. I wish that boy would write a letter to him, +because he might tell about the ones I know.</p> + +<p>I've been making up my mind about telling you something. I've been +thinking about it, and thinking about it. I don't like to tell things +very well. But I am going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> to tell this to you. It isn't anything to +tell. I mean it isn't like news, or anything happening to anybody. But +it is something about when I was sick. For I had a fit of sickness. I +don't mean afterwards, when I was so very sick, but at the first +beginning of it.</p> + +<p>The captain he took some books out of his chest and said I might have +them to read if I wanted to. And I read about a man in one of them, and +the king wanted him to do something that the man thought wasn't right to +do; but the man said he would not do what was wrong. And for that he was +sent to row in a very large boat among all kinds of bad man, thieves and +murderers and the worst kind. They had to row every minute, and were +chained to their oars, and above their waists they had no clothes on. +They had overseers with long whips. The officers stayed on deck over the +rowers' heads, and when they wanted the vessel to go faster, the +overseers made their long whip-lashes cut into the men's backs till they +were all raw and bleeding. Nights the chains were not taken off, and +they slept all piled up on each other. Sometimes when the officers were +in a hurry, or when there were soldiers aboard, going to fight the +enemy's vessels, then the men wouldn't have even a minute to eat, and +were almost starved to death, and got so weak they would fall over, but +then they were whipped again. And when they got to the enemy's ships, +they had to sit and have cannons fired in among them. Then the dead ones +were picked up and thrown into the water. And the king told the man that +if he wanted to be free, and have plenty to eat and a nice house, and +good clothes to wear, all he had to do was to promise to do that wrong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +thing. But the man said no. For to be chained there would only hurt his +body. But to do wrong would hurt his soul.</p> + +<p>And I read about some people that lived many hundred years ago and the +emperor of that country wanted these people to say that their religion +was wrong and his religion was the right one. But they said, "No. We +believe ours is true, and we cannot lie." Then the emperor took away all +their property, and pierced them with red-hot irons, and threw some into +a place where they kept wild beasts. But they still kept saying, "We +cannot lie, we must speak what we believe." And one was a boy only +fifteen years old. And the emperor thought he was so young they could +scare him very easy. And he said to him, "Now say you believe the way I +want you to, or I will have you shut up in a dark dungeon." But the boy +said, "I will not say what is false." And he was shut up in a dark +dungeon, underground. And one day the emperor said to him, "Say you +believe the way I want you to, or I will have you stretched upon a +rack." But the boy said, "I will not speak falsely." And he was +stretched upon a rack till his bones were almost pulled apart. Then the +emperor asked, "Now will you believe that my religion is right?" But the +boy could not say so. And the emperor said, "Then you'll be burned +alive!" The boy said, "I can suffer the burning, but I cannot lie." Then +he was brought out and the wood was piled up round him, and set on fire, +and the boy was burned up with the wood. And while he was burning up he +thanked God for having strength enough to suffer and not lie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dorry, I want to tell you how much I've been thinking about that man and +that boy ever since. And I want to ask you to do something. I've been +thinking about how mean I was, and what I did there so as not to get +punished. And I want you to go see my mother and tell her that I'm +<i>ashamed</i>. Don't make any promises to my mother, but only just tell, +"<i>Tom's ashamed</i>." That's all. I don't want to make promises. But I know +myself just what I mean to do. But I sha' n't talk about that any. Give +my regards to all inquiring friends.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tom.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. Can't you tell things about me to William Henry and the others, for +it is very hard to me to write a letter? Write soon.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +T.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Mr. Carver's visit to the Crooked Pond School alluded to in the +following letter was quite an event for my Summer Sweeting friends, and +caused an extra amount of cooking to be done in both families. Boys +don't half appreciate the blessing of not being too old to have goodies +sent them. Now goodies taste good to me, very good, but I haven't a +friend in the world who would think of boiling up a kettleful of +molasses into candy, or of making a waiterful of seed-cakes to send me. +<i>Too old</i>, they say,—in actions, if not in words. How cruelly we are +misjudged sometimes, and by those who ought to know us best! I shall +never be too old to receive a box like that of William Henry's, never, +never!—unless my whole constitution is altered and several <i>clauses</i> +taken out of it.</p> + +<p>I remember of seeing that waiter of "good seed-cakes" on grandmother's +best room table, between the front windows, waiting to be packed in Mr. +Carver's valise. Mr. Carver's black silk neck-handkerchief, tall hat, +clean dickies, stockings,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> two red and white silk pocket-handkerchiefs, +and various other articles were distributed over the adjacent chairs, +and his umbrella, in a brown cambric covering, stood near by. I have the +impression that most of these things were ironed over, five or six +times, as grandmother felt that apparel going away from home could not +be too much ironed. Besides, it seemed to her impossible that such an +event as Billy's father setting out on his travels should take place +without extra exertions in some quarter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carver had other business which took him from home, but as "going to +see Billy" was thought <i>enough to tell Mrs. Paulina</i>, why, it is enough +for me to tell. "Mrs. Paulina" was an elderly woman, the wife of Mr. +John Slade, one of the neighbors, and she was called "Mrs. Paulina," to +distinguish her from several other Mrs. Slades.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Paulina had her own opinion as to how money and time should be +spent,—everybody's money and time. She was one of the prying sort, and +had wonderful skill in ferreting out all the whys and wherefores of her +neighbor's proceedings. It was a common thing at the Farm to say, when +undertaking some new scheme, "Well, how much shall we tell Mrs. +Paulina?" It being a matter of course that she would inquire into it. +The girls often amused themselves by giving her <i>blinding</i> answers just +to see how she would contrive to carry her point. I remember their +having great fun doing this, just after William Henry went away to +school. Lucy Maria said 't was just like a conundrum to Mrs. Paulina, a +great mammoth conundrum, and the poor thing must be told about "Old +Uncle Wallace," or she would wear herself out, wondering "how Mr. Carver +could possibly afford the money."</p> + +<p>The "Old Uncle Wallace" thus brought to the rescue of Mrs. Paulina would +probably not have came to her rescue, or to any woman's rescue, had he +been free to choose, seeing that he lived and died a bachelor, and a +stingy bachelor at that! The old miser was a distant uncle,—either +half-uncle,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> or grand-uncle, or half grand-uncle of the Mr. Carvers, and +lived, that is before he died, in a town some twenty miles off. Billy's +father was named for Uncle Wallace, and when a little boy, lived in the +same neighborhood, and was quite a favorite with him.</p> + +<p>The acquaintance with that distant branch of the family, however, had +not been kept up, in fact I have no recollection of a single member of +it ever coming to the Farm. They were people well to do in the world, +and neither Mr. Carver nor Uncle Jacob were men to "honey round" rich +relations. Certainly they never would have fawned upon the miserly old +fellow, who had the reputation of being mean and tricky as well as +miserly.</p> + +<p>It seems, however, that "Uncle Wallace" did not wholly forget his +namesake, for in his will he left him quite a valuable wood-lot near +Corry's Pond,—some six or eight miles from the Farm,—and a few hundred +dollars besides.</p> + +<p>This occurred not a great while before my first ride out with Uncle +Jacob. Mr. Carver had long felt that Billy was being spoiled at home, +and the Crooked Pond School being recommended at that time as "really +good," and "not too expensive," he resolved that while <i>feeling rich</i> he +would place his son at that institution. And he was more especially +inclined to do so for the reason that an old friend of his lived near +there, and this friend's wife promised to see that the boy did not go +about in actual rags. She is probably the person to whom William Henry +refers in his first letters, as "the woman I go to have my buttons sewed +on to."</p> + +<p>The above circumstances were duly imparted to Mrs. Paulina, yet that +perplexed woman got no relief. True, it was something to know where the +money came from, but "How could a man," she asked, "spend so much money +on eddication, when it might be drawing interest, or put into land?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Paulina couldn't guess. She gave it up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry's Letter to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>——</p> + +<p>I suppose my father has got home again by this time. I like to have my +father come to see me. The boys all say my father is a tip-top one. I +guess they like to have a man treat them with so many peanuts and good +seed-cakes. I got back here to-day from Dorry's cousin's party. My +father let me go. I wish my sister could have seen that party. Tell her +when I get there I will tell her all about the little girls, and tell +her how cunning the little ones, as small as she, looked dancing, and +about the good things we had. O, I never saw such good things before! I +didn't know there were such kinds of good things in the world.</p> + +<p>Did my father tell you all about that letter that Tom Cush wrote to +Dorry? Ask him to. Dorry sent that letter right to Tom Cush's mother. +And when Dorry and I were walking along together the next morning after +the party, she was sitting at her window, and as soon as she saw us she +said, "Won't you come in, boys? Do come in!" And looked so glad! And +laughed, and about half cried, after we went in, and it was that same +room where we went before. But it didn't seem so lonesome now, not half. +It looked about as sunshiny as our kitchen does, and they had +flower-vases. I wish I could get some of those pretty seeds for my +sister, for she hasn't got any of that kind of flowers.</p> + +<p>She seemed just as glad to see us! And shook hands and looked so +smiling, and so did Tom's father when he came into the room. He had a +belt in his hand that Tom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> used to wear when he used to belong to that +Base-ball Club. And when we saw that Dorry said, "Why! has Tom got +back?" Tom's mother said, "O no." But his father said, "O yes! Tom's got +back. He hasn't got back to our house, but he's got back. He hasn't got +back to town, but he's got back. He hasn't got back to his own country, +but he's got back. For I call that getting back," says he, "when a boy +gets back to the right way of feeling."</p> + +<p>Then Tom's mother took that belt and hung it up where it used to be +before, for it had been taken down and put away, because they didn't +want to have it make them think of Tom so much.</p> + +<p>She said when Tom got back in earnest, back to the house, that we two, +Dorry and I, must come there and make a visit, and I hope we shall, for +they've got a pond at the bottom of their garden, and Tom's father owns +a boat, and you mustn't think I should tip over, for I sha' n't, and no +matter if I should, I can swim to shore easy.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandchild,<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">William Henry.</span></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P.S. Bubby Short didn't mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw +hat, and we couldn't get it out even again, and I didn't want him to, +but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man +didn't have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was +dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I +wouldn't let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because +I didn't have quite enough. Don't shopkeepers have the most money of all +kinds of men? Wouldn't you be a shopkeeper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> when I grow up? It seems +just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled +jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to +send some of W. B.'s good things. He wrote a very good composition about +heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be +sending one of his good things. It's got in it about two dozen kinds of +heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And +Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may +read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/p134.jpg" width="361" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>W. B.'s Composition.</i></h4> + +<h4>HEADS.</h4> + +<p>Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of +notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell +just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best +kind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won't +stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn't quite so +bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won't be coaxed nor turned, +they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of +fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads +are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of +heads besides our heads.</p> + +<p>First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads +of sermons,—sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one +sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle,—when a farmer reckons +up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, +Drumheads,—drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or +tails,—when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders,—when you let +off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head—like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, +Cabbageheads,—dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. +Eleventh, At Loggerheads,—when you don't agree. Twelfth, Heads of +chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off,—when you want to stop a horse, or a +boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. +Sixteenth, The Masthead,—where they send sailors to punish them. +Seventeenth, get up to the head,—when you spell the word right. +Eighteenth, The Head of a stream,—where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by +the head,—when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a +Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that's the +end of a stick of timber that a ship's anchor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> hangs by. Twenty-second, +A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A +Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead,—but +first be sure you are right.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Bubby Short's Composition.</i></h4> + +<h4>ON MORNING.</h4> + +<p>It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green +fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the +day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get +up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the +morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the +morning, or there's a rainbow, 't will be rainy weather. Fish bite best +in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning.</p> + +<p>Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in +handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been +written during William Henry's second school year.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry's Letter about the "Charade."</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers +had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the +word was—no, I mustn't tell you, because it has to be guessed by +actions, and when you get the paper that I'm going to send you, soon as +I buy a two-cent stamp, then you'll see it all printed out in that +paper. The teacher the fellers call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> Wedding Cake, because he's such a +good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last +night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and +what things to put on, and everything. You'll see it printed there, but +you must please to send it back, for I promised to return.</p> + +<p>There weren't females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we +all liked to ha' died a laughing, getting ready, but when we +were—there, I 'most told!</p> + +<p>O if you could ha' seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged +clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed +round that cap—just as sober—much as we could do to keep in! I was a +clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece +of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, +like a clerk, and I did.</p> + +<p>Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn't strut, but he struts other +times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh.</p> + +<p>Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and +quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller +and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the +shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they're grown +up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. +And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we +all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a +sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth.</p> + +<p>I wish you all and Aunt Phebe's folks had been there. We had a treat, +and O, if 't wasn't a treat, why, I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> agree to treat myself. Three +kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped +cakes and candy, and <i>such</i> a great floating island in a platter!—Dorry +said 't was a floating continent!—and had red jelly round the platter's +edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he +isn't a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves +if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more +too, I say.</p> + +<p>And so I can't tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly +can,</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Please lend it to Aunt Phebe's folks.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4>CHARADE. (<i>Carpet.</i>)</h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">First Syllable.</span></h4> + +<p><i>Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter +and take their seats. Placard stuck up, "Beware of Pickpockets," in +capitals.</i></p> + +<p><i>First.</i> Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, +lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to +read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look +over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be +going on while the other passengers are entering.</p> + +<p><i>Second.</i> Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out +little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after +putting ticket in his hat-band.</p> + +<p><i>Third.</i> Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> and +bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth.</i> A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth +and spectacles.</p> + +<p><i>Fifth.</i> Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers.</p> + +<p><i>Sixth.</i> Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, +watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his +seat, using his eyeglass frequently.</p> + +<p><i>Seventh.</i> Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and +sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, +changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to +please it, dancing them up and down before its face.</p> + +<p><i>Eighth.</i> Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits.</p> + +<p><i>Ninth.</i> Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She +minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, +first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans +herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) "All aboard!"</p> + +<p><i>Tenth.</i> In a hurry, Lady that's been a-shopping, leading or pulling +along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and +has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, +a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various +other things). Doll's heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. +Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, +imitating Dandy's polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +bonnet-strings, takes off the child's hat, smooths its hair, &c.</p> + +<p>Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down +motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, +whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters.</p> + +<p>Enter Conductor with an immense <i>badge</i> on his hat, or coat. Calls out +"Have your tickets ready!" Then passes along the aisle, and calls out +again, "Tickets!" The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take +them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers +in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. +Conductor, after <i>nipping</i> the tickets, passes out.</p> + +<p>Enter boy with papers, "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" +(Business man buys one.) "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" +(Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, +"Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!" (Noise heard +of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little +hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer +fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking +motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. "Jessup's candy! All flavors! Five +cents a stick!" (Lady buys one for baby.) "Jessup's candy! All flavors! +Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!" (Yankee buys one, offers half to +fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out.</p> + +<p>Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, +others let them lie. (Dandy buys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> one.) Boy collects them and passes +out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After +playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop +something in it. Exit boy.</p> + +<p>Enter Conductor. "Tickets!" Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) +Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes +out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, +pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall +on a smash-up.)</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Second Syllable.</span></h4> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">Lady</span> in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head +on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> with +tray.</i></p> + +<p><i>Maggie.</i> Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. 'T will cheer ye up like!</p> + +<p><i>Lady (looking up).</i> No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It +is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he's lost!</p> + +<p><i>Maggie.</i> And did ye slape at arl, mum?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude +boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, +or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, +cannot eat.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Maggie</span> with breakfast things. Enter <span class="smcap">Mike</span> with newspapers.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Mornin' paper, mum.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns).</i> Let +me see if he is found. O, here! "Found!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> A diamond pin on—" Pshaw, +diamond pin! Here it is. "Dog found! Black and tan—" Faugh, black and +tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where's the notice of our +darling's being lost?</p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Shure, an' it's to the side o' the house I put it, mum, arl writ +in illegant sizey litters, mum.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (in alarm).</i> And didn't you go to the printers at all?</p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Shure an' be n't it better out in the brard daylight, mum, +laning aginst th' 'ouse convanient like, an' aisy to see, mum?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O Mike, you've undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I +say.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Mike.</span></i></p> + +<p><i>Lady (solus).</i> It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked +my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my +chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His +little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now?</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mike</span>, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large +letters.</i></p> + +<p>☞ Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!!</p> + +<p><i>Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> An' it's meeself larned the fine writin', mum, in th' ould +counthry.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (excited).</i> Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen +and paper!</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Mike</span>, muttering. Knock heard at door.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Come!</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Market-Man</span>, <i>in blue frock</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Good day, ma'am. Heard you'd lost a dog.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (eagerly, with hand extended).</i> Yes, yes! Where is he?</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Was he a curly, shaggy dog?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Yes! O yes! Where did you find him?</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Was your dog bright and playful?</p> + +<p><i>Lady (in an excited manner).</i> O, very! very!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> Answered to the name of Carlo?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man (in surprise).</i> Arms, ma'am? Arms? 'T is a Newfoundland dog! +He could carry you in his arms!</p> + +<p><i>Lady (dejected).</i> O cruel, cruel disappointment!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man.</i> What kind of a dog was yours?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk!</p> + +<p><i>Market-man (going).</i> Good day, ma'am. If I see him, I'll fetch him.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Market-Man. Mike</span> enters with writing materials, and goes out +again. <span class="smcap">Lady</span> begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly—(<i>Tap at door.</i>) Come!</p> + +<p><i>Enter stupid-looking <span class="smcap">Boy</span>, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large +hat.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Did you wish to see me?</p> + +<p><i>Boy (drawling).</i> Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> About a dog?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Have you found one?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Is it a very small dog?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Sweet and playful?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma'am?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Did you bring him with you?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Yes, ma'am (<i>pointing</i>). Out there.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (excited).</i> O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If +it should! (<span class="smcap">Boy</span> <i>brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted</i>.)</p> + +<p><i>Lady (in disgust).</i> O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take +him away!</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Isn't that your dog?</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> No! no! O, can't you take the horrid animal away?</p> + +<p><i>Boy (going).</i> Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Boy</span> <i>with dog</i>. <span class="smcap">Lady</span> <i>prepares to write</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Stupid thing! Now I'll write. (<i>Repeats.</i>) <span class="smcap">Lost, strayed, or +stolen. A curly, white</span>—(<i>Tap at the door.</i>) Come! (<i>Lays down pen.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Enter ragged <span class="smcap">Boy</span>, with covered basket.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Have <i>you</i> found a dog?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> No, I hain't found no dog.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Then what do you want?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Father sells puppies. Father said if you'd lost your dog, you'd +want to buy one of 'em. Said you could take your pick out o' these 'ere +five. (<i>Opens basket for her to look in.</i>)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lady (shuddering).</i> Little wretches! Away with them!</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> They'll grow, father said, high's the table.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Carry them off, can't you?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Father wants to know what you'll take for your dog, running. +Father said he'd give a dollar, an' risk the ketchin' on him.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, +and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry +dollar!</p> + +<p><i>Boy (going).</i> Good mornin'. Guess I'll be goin'. If I find your dog, I +won't (<i>aside</i>) let you know.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Boy</span>, with bow and scrape.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady (writes again, and repeats).</i> <span class="smcap">Lost, strayed, or stolen. A +cur</span>—(<i>Knock at the door.</i>) Come! (<i>Lays down pen.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Mulligan</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> An' is it yourself lost a dog, thin?</p> + +<p><i>Lady (eagerly).</i> Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen +him?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> Och, no. But't was barkin' all night he was, behint th' +'ouse. An' the b'ys,—that's me Pat an' Tim, they <i>drooned</i> him, mum, +bad luck to 'em, in the mornin' arly.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> And did you see him?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> No, shure.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> And where is he now?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> O, it's safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o' No +Bottom Pond, mum.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> And how do you know 't is my dog?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan.</i> Faith, an' whose dog should it be, thin?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Send your boys, and I'll speak with them.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Mulligan (going).</i> I'll send them, mum. Mornin' mum.</p> + +<p><i>Exit <span class="smcap">Mrs. Mulligan</span>. Another tap at the door.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O, this is not to be borne! Come!</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Countrywoman</span> with bandbox,—not an old woman.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lady (earnestly).</i> If it's about a dog, tell me all you know at once! +Is he living?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Yes'm, but he's quite poorly. I think dogs shows their +sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin's.</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Do tell quick.</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Just what I want, for I'm in a hurry myself. So I'll +jump right inter the thick on 't. You see last night when my old man was +ridin' out o' town in his cart, with some o' his cabbages left over, for +garden sarse hadn't been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin' +out on account o' the off ox bein' some lame, and my old man ain't apt +to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, +you—</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> But about the dog!</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Wal, the old man was a ridin' along, slow, you know,—I +alwers tell him he'll never set the great pond afire,—and a countin' +over his cabbageheads and settlin' the keg o' molasses amongst 'em, and +a little jug of—(<i>nods and winks and smiles</i>),—jest for a medicine, +you know. For we <i>never do</i>,—I nor the old man,—never, 'xcept in case +o' sickness.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (impatiently).</i> But what about the dog?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Wal, he was a ridin' along, and jest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> got to the +outskirts o' the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin' +which should have a dog,—a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur—</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> Yes! Go on! Go on!</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> And he asked 'em would they take fifty cents apiece and +give it up. For he knew 't would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they +took the fifty.</p> + +<p><i>Lady (eagerly).</i> And what did he do with him? Where is he now?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Why, I was goin' to ride in with the old man this +mornin' to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And +we happened to see that 'ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it +out! (<i>Opening bandbox.</i>) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the +crown o' my bunnet Seems poorly, but he'll pick up. (<i>Takes out a white +lapdog.</i>)<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.</p></div> + +<p><i>Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him).</i> 'T is my Carlo. O my +precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and +put him to sleep. (<i>Rises to go out.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> But the five dollars, marm!</p> + +<p><i>Lady.</i> O, you must call again. I can't think of any paltry five +dollars, now. (<i>Exit.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman (calling out).</i> I'll wait, marm!</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mike</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> An' what bisness are ye doin' here?</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Waiting for my pay.</p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> Pay, is it? Och, she'll niver pay the day. She's owin' me wages, +an' owin' the cook, and Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> Flarty that scoors, and the millinery +lady, an' 't is "Carl agin," she sez. "Carl agin. Can't ye carl agin?"</p> + +<p><i>Countrywoman.</i> Then I'll get mine now. (<i>Takes off shawl, and sits +down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning +on her knitting-sheath.</i>) I don't budge, without the pay.</p> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">Mike</span> looks on admiringly. Curtain drops.</i></p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Whole Word.</span></h4> + +<p><i><span class="smcap">Clerk</span> standing behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to +sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various +placards on the walls,—"No credit." "Goods marked down!" &c. Enter <span class="smcap">Old +Woman</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (speaking in rather high key).</i> Do you keep stockings?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk (handing box of stockings).</i> O yes. Here are some, very good +quality.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (examining them).</i> Mighty thin, them be.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> I assure you, they are warranted to wear.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> To wear out, I guess.</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Young Married Couple</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Wife (modestly).</i> We wish to look at a few of your carpets.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> This way, ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Husband.</i> Hem! (<i>Clearing his throat.</i>) We will look at something for +parlors.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Here is a style very much admired. (<i>Unrolls carpet.</i>) Elegant +pattern. We import all our goods,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> ma'am. That's a firm piece of goods. +You couldn't do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (coming near).</i> A good rag carpet'll wear out two o' that.</p> + +<p><i>Wife (to Husband).</i> I think it is a lovely pattern. Don't you like it, +Charley?</p> + +<p><i>Husband.</i> Hem—well, I have seen prettier. But then, 't is just as you +say, dear.</p> + +<p><i>Wife.</i> O no, Charley. 'T is just as you say. I want to please you, +dear.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (to Clerk).</i> Have you got any crash towelling?</p> + +<p><i>Husband.</i> What's the price of this carpet?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Three dollars a yard. Here's another style (<i>unrolls another</i>) +just brought in. (<i>Attends to Old Woman.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Husband (speaking to Wife).</i> Perhaps we'd better look at the other +articles you wanted. (<i>They go to another part of the store, examining +articles.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Enter a spare, thin <span class="smcap">Woman</span>, in plain dress and green veil.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Can we sell you anything to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I was thinking of buying a carpet.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Step this way, ma'am. (<i>Shows them.</i>) We have all styles, +ma'am.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I want one that will last. (<i>Examining it.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk (taking hold of it).</i> Firm as iron, ma'am. We've sold five +hundred pieces of that goods. If it don't wear, we'll agree to pay back +the money.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I want one that won't show dirt.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Warranted not to show dirt, ma'am. We warrant all our goods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> Can it be turned?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Perfectly well, ma'am. 'Twill turn as long as there's a bit of +it left.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> What do you ask?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, +but you may have it for three dollars.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> Couldn't you take less?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Couldn't take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I think I'll look further. (<i>Going.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Well, now seeing it's the last piece, you may have it for two +fifty.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I wasn't expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (<i>Going.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Say two and a quarter, and take +it.</p> + +<p><i>Woman.</i> I have decided not to go over two dollars. (<i>Going.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Clerk (crossly).</i> Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In +fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five +yards? I'll measure it directly.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman.</i> Have you got any cotton flannel?</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Fashionable Lady</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clerk (all attention, bowing).</i> Good morning, madam. Can we sell you +anything to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you +anything new?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. +(<i>Shows one.</i>)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> It must light up well, or it will never suit me.</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Lights up beautifully, madam.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> Is this real tapestry?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> O, certainly, madam. We shouldn't think of showing you any +other.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> What's the price?</p> + +<p><i>Clerk.</i> Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can't offer it for less +than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady.</i> 'T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, +the price is no objection.</p> + +<p><i>Old Woman (coming forward).</i> Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get +a strip to lay down afore the fire. (<i>Speaking to Lady.</i>) Goin' to give +six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag +carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip 'em up inter +narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in +great balls. That's your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all +colors. That's your fillin'. Then hire your carpet wove, and that +carpet'll last.</p> + +<p><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Policeman</span> and a <span class="smcap">Gentleman</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady).</i> That is the person.</p> + +<p><i>Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder).</i> This gentleman, madam, +thinks you have—<i>borrowed</i> a quantity of his lace goods.</p> + +<p><i>Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment).</i> I? Impossible! +Impossible, sir!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Gentleman.</i> I am sure of it.</p> + +<p><i>Policeman.</i> Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us?</p> + +<p><i>Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a +sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising +money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don't know which. I never do +know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the +first sounds more melodious.</p> + +<p>They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry's. +Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the +charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby +carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and +he made a great ado turning it.</p> + +<p>At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a +general smash-up.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want +to have my skates here all ready. 'Most all the boys have got all theirs +already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the +sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play +trainer in when I's a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you'll +find 'em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I +are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It's down +cellar. We went to be weighed, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> the man said I was built of solid +timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, +and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then +at his weights; he didn't know what to make of it. For I've grown so +much faster that we're almost of a size.</p> + +<p>First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, +and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we +weighed?</p> + +<p>The fellers call us "Dorry & Co." because we keep together so much. When +he goes anywhere he says "Come, Sweet William!" and when I go anywhere I +say "Come, Old Dorrymas!" There's a flower named Sweet William. There +isn't any fish named Dorrymas, but there's one named Gurrymas. We keep +our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of +our traps. His bed is 'most close to mine, and the one that wakes up +first pulls the other one's hair. One boy that comes here is a +funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out. +He isn't a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes +days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He's got great +eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to +laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, +sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something +spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you'll find my skates, and send 'em right +off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden +peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come +together, under my trainer trousers; you'll see the red stripes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn't +you think 't was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to +kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too. +"Let's get up a good one while we're about it," says he, "that won't +kick right out." Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and +all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took +in peanuts. O, you ought to 've seen that bag of peanuts! Held about +half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told +somebody that when anybody said, "Let's get up something," it wasn't +just the same as to say he'd pay part. But we say 't is. And we talked +about it down to the Two Betseys' shop, and Lame Betsey said 't was mean +doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, "Anybody that won't pay their +part, I don't care <i>who</i> they be." And I've seen him eating taffy three +times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks +sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if +he'd take any, he took some.</p> + +<p>Now Spicey won't do that. We said he might kick, but he don't want to, +not till he gets his quarter. He's going to earn it. If my skates don't +hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's been +fooling with 'em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a +piece of the floor is broke out. You'd better look down that hole. I'm +going to send home my Report next time. I couldn't get perfect every +time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he'd know too much to come to +school. But there's some that do. Not very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> many. Spicey did four days +running. I could 'a got more perfects, only one time I didn't know how +far to get, and another time I didn't hear what the question was he put +out to me, and another time I didn't stop to think and answered wrong +when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the +rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says +he wishes they'd take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and +so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, +and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put +me out. I shouldn't think visitors would look a feller right in the +face, when he's trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up +as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any +other kind; don't you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I +laughed out loud. I didn't mean to, but I'm easy to laugh. But Dorry he +can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I +was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder +Boy's cheeks, and he couldn't tell who snapped 'em, for Bubby Short +would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B. +jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh +coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I +knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some.</p> + +<p>I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I'm going to +send mine and Dorry's photographs taken together. We both paid half. We +got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. 'T is stopping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +here now. Course we didn't expect to look very handsome. But the man +says 't is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make. +Says he tells 'em he has to take what's before him. Dorry says he's sure +we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to +make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to +let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates +soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it. +Remember me to my sister.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an +expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the +frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the +three can give his merry laugh.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Grandmother to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Boy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Your father and all of us were very glad to see that photograph, for it +seemed next thing to seeing you, you dear child. We couldn't bear to +send it away so soon. I kept it on the mantel-piece, with my spectacles +close by, so that when I went past it I could take a look. We sent word +in to your aunt Phebe and in a few minutes little Tommy came running +across and said his "muzzer said he must bwing Billy's Pokerdaff in, +wight off." But I told him to tell his muzzer that Billy's Pokerdaff +must be sent back very soon, and wasn't going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> out of my sight a minute +while it stayed, and they must come in. And they did. We all think 't is +a very natural picture, only too sober. You ought to try to look smiling +at such times. I wish you'd had somebody to pull down your jacket, and +see to your collar's being even. But Aunt Phebe says 't is a wonder you +look as well as you do, with no woman to fix you. I should know Dorry's +picture anywhere. Uncle Jacob wants to know what you were both so cross +about? Says you look as if you'd go to fighting the minute you got up.</p> + +<p>Little Tommy is tickled enough with that sled, and keeps looking up in +the sky to see when snow is coming down, and drags it about on the bare +ground, if we don't watch him.</p> + +<p>I had almost a good mind to keep the skates at home. Boys are so +venturesome. They always think there's no danger. I said to your father, +"Now if anything should happen to Billy I should wish we'd never sent +them." But he's always afraid I shall make a Miss Nancy of you. Now I +don't want to do that. But there's reason in all things. And a boy +needn't drown himself to keep from being a Miss Nancy. He thinks you've +got sense enough not to skate on thin ice, and says the teachers won't +allow you to skate if the pond isn't safe. But I don't have faith in any +pond being safe. My dear boy, there's danger even if the thermometer is +below zero. There may be spring-holes. Never was a boy got drowned yet +skating, but what thought there was no danger. Do be careful. I know you +would if you only knew how I keep awake nights worrying about you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew +how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home +a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won't tell the price. They are +high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the +window of one of the grand stores, and thought he'd just step in and buy +them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I'm speaking of +the price. Now Georgie doesn't go to parties, and where the child can +wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to +meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the +broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won't do, because her meeting +dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege +dress to match 'em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he +heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, +he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has +sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at +the bottom he writes, ☞"Company expected to appear in blue +boots." So I dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, +and draw my plush moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob +takes her things, and waits upon her to the table, and they have great +fun out of it.</p> + +<p>My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears +cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won't be so cruel as to +laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don't depend +upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head +and his heart. When I was a little girl and went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> to school in the old +school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the +school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old +gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to +wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a +gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant +smile, that I haven't forgotten yet, though 't was a great many years +ago. After we'd read and spelt, and the writing-books and +ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to +address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every +time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I've +remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way.</p> + +<p>"I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear +them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And +because I love them so well, I don't want there should be anything bad +about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming;—I should be very +sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, +children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. +You can remember three words, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," we would say.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, how long can you remember them?" he would ask,—"a week?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sir."</p> + +<p>"Two weeks?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"A month?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"A year?"</p> + +<p>"Guess so."</p> + +<p>"All your lives?"</p> + +<p>Then some would say, "Yes, sir," and some would say they guessed not, +and some didn't believe they could, and some knew they couldn't.</p> + +<p>"Well, children," he would say at last, "now I will tell you what the +three words are: Treat—everybody—well. Now what I want you to be +surest to remember is 'everybody.' Everybody is a word that takes in a +great many people, and a great many kinds of people,—takes in the +washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that +come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand +clothes, and the help in the kitchen,—takes in those we don't like and +even the ones that have done us harm. 'Treat—<i>everybody</i>—well.' For +you can afford to. A pleasant word don't cost anything to give, and is a +very pleasant thing to take."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he +followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman +that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to +make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn't wear good +clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the +ones best that wore the best clothes. He'd seen children, and grown +folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and +then be ugly and snappish to poor people they'd hired to work for them. +A real lady or gentleman,—he used to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> end off with this,—"A real lady, +and a real gentleman will—treat—everybody—well." And I will end off +with this too. And don't you ever forget it. For that you may be, my +dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your loving Grandmother.<br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, +there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that +picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I +forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. +And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. +And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for +your Report.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue +boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of +those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of +blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six +little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go +in and buy, and now I haven't one.</p> + +<p>Georgie's boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her +grandmother knit. And I couldn't see any harm in her wearing a red dress +with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for +me, and I'll never turn against them!</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven't sniffed +my nose up any at Spicey. I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> tell you why. Because I remember when I +first came, and had a red head, and how bad 't was to be plagued all the +time. But I tell you if he isn't a queer-looking chap! Don't talk any, +hardly, but he's great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs +itself. But not out loud. Dorry says 't is a very wide smile. It comes +easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When +you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he +don't know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and +when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he +laughs. Though he don't have very much to give. But he can't say no. All +the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an +apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, "Give me a +taste." "Give me a taste," till 't was every bit tasted away. Then they +tried him on slate-pencils,—his had bully points to them,—and he gave +every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said +'t was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said +they'd done with 'em. Dorry says he's going to ask him for his nose some +day, and then see what he'll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he's +a clever chap. And he won't kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till +he's paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he +said, No, I thank you. "Why not?" Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he +guessed he'd rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and +guess he heard about that feller that wouldn't pay his part, and about +his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +about money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever +take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn't mean +what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year's Day, and all that. And +to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He'd heard +of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, +because they knew 't wouldn't be asked for. The feller I told you +about—the one that kicks and don't pay—he owes Gapper Sky Blue for +four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he +knows Gapper won't ask for two cents! Gapper let him have 'em for two +cents, because he'd had 'em a good while and the edges of 'em were some +crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won't say +anything ever, and so he's trying to keep from paying. I guess his left +ear burns sometimes!</p> + +<p>Gapper can't go round now, selling cakes, because he's lame, and has to +go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make +tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, +and sell 'em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if +'t isn't bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up +to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn't there +only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes +ever so far. Bubby Short 'most got run over by a sleigh. He was going +"knee-hacket" and didn't see where he was going to, and went like +lightning right between the horses' legs, and didn't hurt him a bit.</p> + +<p>Last night when the moon shone the teachers let us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> go out, and they +went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn't have +the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we'd drag it way up to the top, +and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, +and away we'd go. Once it 'most tipped over. O, I never did see anything +scream so loud as girls can when they're scared? I wish 't would be +winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question +we had last was, "Which is the best, Summer or Winter?" And we got so +fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers +to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns +firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter +to take notes, but I don't know as you can read them, he was in such a +hurry.</p> + +<p>"In summer you can fly kites.</p> + +<p>"In winter you can skate.</p> + +<p>"In summer you have longer time to play.</p> + +<p>"In winter you have best fun coasting evenings.</p> + +<p>"In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats.</p> + +<p>"In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings.</p> + +<p>"In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball.</p> + +<p>"In winter you can coast and make snow-forts.</p> + +<p>"In summer you can go a fishing.</p> + +<p>"So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch +on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole +in the ice and set a light to draw 'em, and then take a jobber and job +'em as fast as you're a mind to.</p> + +<p>"In summer you can go take a sail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride.</p> + +<p>"In summer you don't freeze to death.</p> + +<p>"In winter you don't get sunstruck.</p> + +<p>"In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing.</p> + +<p>"In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the +icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the +sleigh-bells jingle.</p> + +<p>"In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other +berries.</p> + +<p>"In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and +preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) +and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!"</p> + +<p>(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time.</p> + +<p>"In summer you have Independent Day, and that's the best day there is. +For if it hadn't been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria.</p> + +<p>"In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather's Day and Christmas +and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that's +Washington's Birthday. And if it hadn't been for that we should have to +mind Queen Victoria."</p> + +<p>When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds +to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but +the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how +glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful +things all the year round. Bubby Short says he's sure he's glad, for if +a feller couldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> have fun what would he do? After we got out doors the +summer ones that didn't go over hollered out to the other ones that did, +"Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! 'Fore I'd be Winter killed! Frost +bit! Frost bit! 'Fore I'd be Frost bit!"</p> + +<p>I should like to see my sister's blue boots. I am very careful when I go +a skating. There isn't any spring-hole in our pond. I don't know where +my handkerchiefs go to.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Don't keep awake. I'll look out. Bubby Short's folks write just so +to him. And Dorry's. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be +drowned?</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The boys must have been much interested in that "Debating Society." When +William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called +upon all to take sides.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Georgiana to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Brother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe's to eat supper, and had on my light blue +boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over +because 't was snowing, for he said the party couldn't be put off +because they had got all ready. But the party wasn't anybody but me, but +he's all the time funning. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy he had some new +rubber boots, but they didn't get there till after supper, and then 't +was 'most his bedtime. But he got into the boots and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> walked all round +with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all +over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he +didn't want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots +stay on till he got asleep, and then pull 'em off softly as she could. +Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, +without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed +about his boots, because soon as they pulled 'em a little bit, he +reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then +she pulled 'em off softly and stood 'em up in the corner. I carried my +work with me, and 't was the handkerchief that is going to be put in +this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She +says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but +next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they +made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, +because I was the party, in the best waiter.</p> + +<p>And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped +on,—six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, +and she wouldn't take a mite of care of them. She won't let them get +close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on 'em all the time, +and broke one's leg. She's a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid +they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, +a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the +pigs. When 't was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he +put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put +ashes on the fire first, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> they could keep warm all night. And in the +night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought +the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and +tumbled down on to the floor and 'most killed himself so he died +afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the +little pigs all night. For soon as 't was daylight, and before too, +Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with +him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his +bedroom window that he couldn't take a nap. He told me to send to you in +my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and +winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning?</p> + +<p>Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that +killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping +this last one in a warm place, for they don't dare to let it go into the +pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she's +worse than a cannibal. But I don't know what that is. He says they kill +men and eat them alive, but I guess he's funning. She dips a sponge in +milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge.</p> + +<p>Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. +Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs +every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and +waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn't get himself out, and +when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. +Then he cried. Tommy's cut off a piece of his own hair.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate sister,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgiana.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Sister.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sister,</span>—</p> + +<p>You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky +Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. +You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed +that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long +stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that +was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby +Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I +read about the pigs I tell you if they didn't laugh! And when that +little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the +floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, "Let's play +have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob's question." And we did. +First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to +tell people 't was time to get up and to let everybody know they +themselves were up and stirring about. Said he'd lain awake mornings, +down in Jersey, and listened and heard 'em say just as plain as day. +"I'm up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!"</p> + +<p>Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the +other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they +didn't belong. Said he'd lain awake in the morning and heard 'em say, +just as plain as day, "If you do, I'll give it to you! I'll give it to +you oo oo oo!"</p> + +<p>But a little chap that had come to hear what was going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> on said 't was +more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he'd +lain awake in the morning and listened and heard 'em say, "Come on if +you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!"</p> + +<p>Then 't was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower +kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale +up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I'd lain awake in the +morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try +to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, "Open your mouth +wide and do as I do! Do as I do!" and then the young ones say, "Can't +quite do so! Can't quite do so!"</p> + +<p>Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what +anybody said, but he'd always understood they were talking about the +weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to +lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and +where there'd been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how +to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks' eggs.</p> + +<p>The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our +lessons, so the Debating Society stopped.</p> + +<p>Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? +The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We +had flags flying, and I tell you if 't wasn't a bully go! We went ten +miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and +they'd up and hurrah, and then we'd hurrah back again. And one lot of +fellers, if they didn't let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +driver to stop, and let us give it to 'em good. But he wouldn't do it. +One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn't get it unhitched +again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more +than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had +the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He +lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made +believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm 'em in the hay. +We 'most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, +where there wasn't very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We +all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held 'em in +tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and +then she was so scared she didn't know what to do, but just stood still +to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for +her to stand close up to the drift, and then there'd be room enough.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p171.jpg" width="448" height="179" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>When I got home I found my bundle and the tin box rolled up in that new +jacket, with all that good jelly in it. Old Wonder Boy peeped in and +says he, "O, there's quite some jelly in there, isn't there?" He says +down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> in Jersey they make nice quince-jelly out of apple-parings, and +said 't was true, for he'd eaten some. Dorry said he knew that was +common in Ireland, but never knew 't was done in this country. Dorry +says you must keep us posted about the last of the piggies. Keep your +pretty blue boots nice for Brother Billy to see, won't you? Thank you +for hemming that pretty handkerchief. I've counted my handkerchiefs a +good many times, but counting 'em don't make any difference.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Brother,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The course of true love it seems did not always ran smooth with Dorry +and William Henry.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>This is only a short letter that I am going to write to you, because I +don't feel like writing any. But when I don't write then you think I +have the measles, else drowned in the pond, and I'll write a little, but +I feel so sober I don't feel like writing very much. I suppose you will +say,—what are you feeling so sober about? Well, seems if I didn't have +any fun now, for Dorry and I we've got mad at each other. And he don't +hardly speak to me, and I don't to him either; and if he don't want to +be needn't, for I don't mean to be fooling round im, and trying to get +him to, if he don't want to.</p> + +<p>Last night we all went out to coast, and the teachers and a good many +ladies and girls, and we were going to see which was the champion sled. +But something else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> happened first. The top of the hill was all bare, +and before they all got there some of the fellers were scuffling +together for fun, and Dorry and I we tried to take each other down. +First of it 't was all in fun, but then it got more in earnest, and he +hit me in the face so hard it made me mad, and I hit him and he got mad +too.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p173.jpg" width="448" height="197" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Then we began to coast, for the people had all got there. Dorry's and +mine were the two swiftest ones, and we kept near each other, but his +slewed round some, and he said I hit it with my foot he guessed, and +then we had some words, and I don't know what we did both say; but now +we keep away from each other, and it seems so funny I don't know what to +do. The teacher asked me to go over to the stable to-day, for he lost a +bunch of compositions and thought they might have dropped out of his +pocket, when we went to take that sleigh-ride. And I was just going to +say, "Come on, Old Dorrymas!" before I thought.</p> + +<p>But 't is the funniest in the morning. This morning I waked up early, +and he was fast asleep, and I thought, Now you'll catch it, old fellow, +and was just a going to pull his hair; but in a minute I remembered. +Then I dressed myself and thought I would take a walk out. I went just +as softly by his bed and stood still there a minute and set out to give +a little pull, for I don't feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> half so mad as I did the first of it, +but was afraid he did. So I went out-doors and looked round. Went as far +as the Two Betseys' Shop and was going by, but The Other Betsey stood at +the door shaking a mat, and called to me, "Billy, where are you going +to?"</p> + +<p>"Only looking round," I said. She told me to come in and warm me, and I +thought I would go in just a minute or two. Lame Betsey was frying +flapjacks in a spider, a little mite of a spider, for breakfast. She +spread butter on one and made me take it to eat in a saucer, and I never +tasted of a better flapjack. There was a cinnamon colored jacket hanging +on the chair-back, and I said, "Why, that's Spicey's jacket!" "Who?" +they cried out both together. Then I called him by his right name, Jim +Mills. He's some relation to them, and his mother isn't well enough to +mend all his clothes, so Lame Betsey does it for nothing. He earns money +to pay for his schooling, and he wants to go to college, and they don't +doubt he will. They said he was the best boy that ever was. His mother +doesn't have anybody but him to do things for her, only his little +sister about the size of my little sister. He makes the fires and cuts +wood and splits kindling, and looks into the buttery to see when the +things are empty, and never waits to be told. When they talked about him +they both talked together, and Lame Betsey let one spiderful burn +forgetting to turn 'em over time enough.</p> + +<p>When I was coming away they said, "Where's Dorry? I thought you two +always kept together." For we did always go to buy things together. Then +I told her a little, but not all about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, make up! make up!" they said. "Make up and be friends again!" I'm +willing to make up if he is. But I don't mean to be the first one to +make up.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>I guess you'll think 't is funny, getting another letter again from me +so soon, but I'm in a hurry to have my father send me some money to have +my skates mended; ask him if he won't please to send me thirty-three +cents, and we two have made up again and I thought you would like to +know. It had been 'most three days, and we hadn't been anywhere +together, or spoken hardly, and I hadn't looked him in the eye, or he +me. Old Wonder Boy he wanted to keep round me all the time, and have +double-runner together. He knew we two hadn't been such chums as we used +to be, so he came up to me and said, "Billy, I think that Dorry's a mean +sort of a chap, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," I said. "He don't know what 't is to be mean!" For I +wasn't going to have him coming any Jersey over me!</p> + +<p>"O, you needn't be so spunky about it!" says he.</p> + +<p>"I ain't spunky!" says I.</p> + +<p>Then I went into the schoolroom, to study over my Latin Grammar before +school began, and sat down amongst the boys that were all crowding round +the stove. And I was studying away, and didn't mind 'em fooling round +me, for I'd lost one mark day before, and didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> mean to lose any more, +for you know what my father promised me, if my next Report improved +much. And while I was sitting there, studying away, and drying my feet, +for we'd been having darings, and W. B. he stumped me to jump on a place +where 't was cracking, and I went in over tops of boots and wet my feet +sopping wet. And I didn't notice at first, for I wasn't looking round +much, but looking straight down on my Latin Grammar, and didn't notice +that 'most all the boys had gone out. Only about half a dozen left, and +one of 'em was Dorry, and he sat to the right of me, about a yard off, +studying his lesson. Then another boy went out, and then another, and by +and by every one of them was gone, and left us two sitting there. O, we +sat just as still! I kept my head down, and we made believe think of +nothing but just the lesson. First thing I knew he moved, and I looked +up, and there was Dorry looking me right in the eye! And held out his +hand—"How are you, Sweet William?" says he, and laughed some. Then I +clapped my hand on his shoulder, "Old Dorrymas, how are you?" says I. +And so you see we got over it then, right away.</p> + +<p>Dorry says he wasn't asleep that morning, when I stood there, only +making believe. Said he wished I'd pull, then he was going to pull too, +and wouldn't that been a funny way to make up, pulling hair? He's had a +letter from Tom Cush and he's got home, but is going away again, for he +means to be a regular sailor and get to be captain of a great ship. He's +coming here next week. I hope you won't forget that thirty-three. I'd +just as lives have fifty, and that would come better in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> the letter, +don't you believe it would? That photograph saloon has just gone by, and +the boys are running down to the road to chase it. When Dorry and I sat +there by the stove, it made me remember what Uncle Jacob said about our +picture.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>The reason that I've kept so long without writing is because I've had to +do so many things. We've been speaking dialogues and coasting and daring +and snowballing, and then we've had to review and review and review, +because 't is the last of the term, and he says he believes in reviews +more than the first time we get it. I tell you, the ones that didn't get +them the first time are bad off now. I wish now I'd begun at the first +of it and got every one of mine perfect, then I should have easier +times. The coast is wearing off some, and we carry water up and pour on +it, and let it freeze, and throw snow on. Now 't is moonshiny nights, +the teacher lets all the "perfects" go out to coast an hour. Sometimes I +get out. And guess where Bubby Short and Dorry and I are going to-night! +Now you can't guess, I know you can't. To a party! Now where do you +suppose the party is to be? You can't guess that either. In this town. +And not very far from this school-house. Somebody you've heard of. Two +somebodies you've heard of. Now don't you know? The Two Betseys! Suppose +you'll think 't is funny for them to have a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> party. But they're not a +going to have it themselves. Now I'll tell you, and not make you guess +any more.</p> + +<p>You know I told you Tom Cush was coming. He came to-day. He's grown just +as tall and as fat and as black and has some small whiskers. I didn't +know 'twas Tom Cush when I first looked at him. Bubby Short asked me +what man that was talking with Dorry, and I said I didn't know, but +afterwards we found out. He didn't know me either. Says I'm a staving +great fellow. He gave Dorry a ruler made of twelve different kinds of +wood, some light, some dark, brought from famous places. And gave Bubby +Short and me a four-blader, white handled. He's got a fur cap and fur +gloves, and is 'most as tall as Uncle Jacob. He told Dorry that he +thought if he didn't come back here and see everybody, he should feel +like a sneak all the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>We three went down to The Two Betseys' Shop with him, and when he saw +it, he said, "Why, is that the same old shop? It don't look much bigger +than a hen-house!" Says he could put about a thousand like it into one +big church he saw away. Said he shouldn't dare to climb up into the +apple-tree for fear he should break it down. Said he'd seen trees high +as a liberty-pole. And when he saw where he used to creep through the +rails he couldn't believe he ever did go through such a little place, +and tried to, but couldn't do it. So he took a run and jumped over, and +we after him, all but Bubby Short. We took down the top one for him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p179.jpg" width="448" height="250" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The Two Betseys didn't know him at first, not till we told them. Dorry +said, "Here's a little boy wants to buy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> a stick of candy." Then Tom +said he guessed he'd take the whole bottle full. And he took out a +silver half a dollar, and threw it down, but wouldn't take any change +back, and then treated us all, and a lot of little chaps that stood +there staring. Lame Betsey said, "Wal, I never!" and The Other Betsey +said, "Now did you ever? Now who'd believe 't was the same boy!" And Tom +said he hoped 't wasn't exactly, for he didn't think much of that Tom +Cush that used to be round here. Coming back he told us he was going to +stay till in the evening, and have a supper at the Two Betseys', us four +together, but not let them know till we got there. He's going to carry +the things. We went to see Gapper Sky Blue, and Tom bought every bit of +his molasses candy, and about all the seed-cakes. When I write another +letter, then you'll know about the party.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Do you think my father would let me go to sea?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>We had it and they didn't know anything about it till we got there, and +then they didn't know what we came for. Guess who was there besides us +four! Gapper Sky Blue and little Rosy. Tom invited them. We left the +bundles inside and walked in. Not to the shop, but to the room back, +where they stay. They told us, "Do sit up to the fire, for 't is a +proper cold day." They'd got their tea a warming in a little round +tea-pot, a black one, and their dishes on a little round table, pulled +up close to Lame Betsey; seemed just like my sister, when she has +company, playing supper. The Other Betsey, she was holding a skein of +yarn for Lame Betsey to wind, and said their yarn-winders were come +apart. Dorry said, "Billy, let's you and I make some yarn-winders!" Now +what do you think we made them out of? Out of ourselves! We stood back +to back, with our elbows touching our sides, and our arms sticking out, +and our thumbs sticking up. Then Dorry told her to put on her yarn, and +we turned ourselves round, like yarn-winders.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon Gapper Sky Blue and Rosy came. Then we brought in the +bundles and let 'em know what was up, and they didn't know what to say. +All they could say was, "Wal, I never!" and "Now did you ever?"</p> + +<p>The Other Betsey said if they were having a party they must smart +themselves up some. So she got out their other caps, with white ruffles, +and put on her handkerchief with a bunch of flowers in the back corner, +but put a black silk cape on Lame Betsey that had a muslin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> ruffle round +it, or lace, or I don't know what, and a clean collar, that she worked +herself, when she was a young lady, and a bow of ribbon, that she used +to wear to parties, wide ribbon, striped, green and yellow, or pink, I +can't tell, and both of 'em clean aprons, figured aprons,—calico, I +think like enough,—with the creases all in 'em, and strings tied in +front. I tell you if the Two Betseys didn't look tiptop! Then they unset +that little round table, and we dragged out the great big one, that +hadn't been used for seventeen years. The Other Betsey's grandfather had +it, when he was first married. When 't isn't a table, 't is tipped up to +make into a chair, and had more legs than a spider. Little Rosy helped +set the table. She never went to a party before.</p> + +<p>O, but you ought to 've seen the plates! You know your pie-plates? Well, +these were just like them. All white, with scalloped edges, blue +scalloped edges. Only no bigger round than the top of your tin dipper. +The knives and forks—two-prongers—had green handles. And the +sugar-bowl and cream pitcher were dark blue. Tom brought a good deal of +sugar, all in white lumps, and a can of milk. He bought pies and jumbles +and turnovers and ginger-snaps and egg-crackers and cake and bread at +the bake-house, and butter and cheese and Bologna sausage—I can't bear +Bologna sausage—and some oranges, that he brought home from sea. And +the sweetest jelly you ever saw! Don't know what 't is made of, but they +call it guava jelly, and comes in little boxes. I believe I could eat +twenty boxes of that kind of jelly, if I could get it. Dorry says he +don't doubt they make it out of apple-parings down in Jersey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Other Betsey stood up in a chair and took down her best china cups +and saucers, that used to be her grandmother's, and hadn't been took +down for a good many years, and wiped the dust off. Little mites of +things, with pictures on them. We boys didn't drink tea, only Tom Cush; +we had milk in mugs. Mine was a tall, slim one, not much bigger round +than an inkstand, and had pine-trees on it, blue pine-trees. Dorry had a +china one that was about as clear as glass, that Lame Betsey's brother +brought home when he went captain, and Bubby Short's had "A gift of +affection" on it. That was one her little niece used to drink out of +that died afterwards, when she was very little.</p> + +<p>I tell you if that supper-table didn't look like a supper-table when 't +was all ready! They set Lame Betsey at the head of the table, because +she couldn't get up, and Dorry said the one at the head must never get +up, for it wasn't polite. We took her right up in her chair to set her +there. Then there was some fun quarrelling which should sit at her right +hand, because that is a seat of honor. Tom said Gapper ought to, for he +was the oldest. But he said it ought to be Tom, because he was the most +like company. But at last she said 't wouldn't make any difference, +because she was left-handed. The Other Betsey brought some twisted +doughnuts out.</p> + +<p>Now I'll tell you how we sat.</p> + +<p>Lame Betsey at the head, and the Other Betsey at the other end; Gapper +Sky Blue and Rosy and Bubby Short on the right side, and Tom and Dorry +and I on the left. And if we didn't have a bully time! The Two Betseys +and Gapper used to know each other, and to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> to school together, and +they told such funny stories, made us die a laughing, and when I get +home you'll hear some. Then Gapper told Tom Cush that now he was a +sailor he ought to spin us a yarn. When I come home I'll tell you the +yarn Tom spun. 'T was all about an alligator he saw, and about going +near it in a boat, and what the Arabs did, and what he did, and what the +alligator did. Wait till I come, then you'll hear about it. Both Betseys +kept putting down their knife and fork, and looking up at him, just as +scared, and kept saying, "Wal, I never!" "Now did you ever!"</p> + +<p>Tom acted it all out. First he cleared a place for a river. Then he took +a twisted doughnut for the alligator and a ginger-snap for a boat. I'll +tell you about it sometime. Guess 't wasn't all true, for you can put +anything you've a mind to in a yarn. He told us about the beautiful +birds, and when I told him about one my sister used to have, he said +he'd bring her home a Java sparrow.</p> + +<p>Then he told us about drinking "Hopshe!" I'll tell how, and I want all +of you to try it.</p> + +<p>Now suppose Hannah Jane was the one to try it.</p> + +<p>First, she takes a tumbler of water in her hand, then you all say +together, Hannah Jane and all, quite fast,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A blackbird sat on a swinging limb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked at me and I at him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once so merrily,—Hopshe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twice so merrily,—Hopshe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice so merrily,—Hopshe!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now I shall tell where the fun comes in.</p> + +<p>While all the rest say, "Once so merrily," Hannah Jane must drink one +swallow quick enough to say the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> "Hopshe!" with them. Then another +swallow while they say, "Twice so merrily," and another while they say, +"Thrice so merrily," and be ready to say the "Hopshe" with them, every +time. We tried it, and I tell you if the "Hopshe's" didn't come in all +sorts of funny ways! The Two Betseys told about some funny tricks they +used to try, to see who was going to be their beau.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I saw a dollar bill in Gapper Sky Blue's hand after Tom Cush bade +him good by. Dorry says how do I know but 't was more than a dollar +bill, and I don't.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<p>There was a good deal left for the Two Betseys to eat afterwards. I had +a letter from Mr. Fry.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Aunt,</span>—</p> + +<p>There is going to be a dancing-school, and Dorry's mother wants him to +go, and he says he guesses he shall, so he may know what to do when he +goes to parties, and his cousin Arthur, that doesn't go to this school, +says 't is bully when you've learned how. Please ask my grandmother if I +may go if I want to. Dorry wants me to if he does, he says, and Bubby +Short says he means to too, if we two do, if his mother'll let him. +Dorry's mother says we shall get very good manners there, and learn how +to walk into a room. I know how now to walk into a room, I told him, +walk right in. But he says his mother means to <i>enter</i> a room, and +there's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> more to it than walking right in. He don't mean an empty room, +but company and all that. I guess I should be scared to go, the first of +it; I guess I should be bashful, but Dorry's cousin says you get over +that when you're used to it. Good many fellers are going. Mr. Augustus, +and Old Wonder Boy, and Mr. O'Shirk. Now I suppose you can't think who +that is! Don't you know that one I wrote about, that kicked and didn't +pay, and that wouldn't help water the course? The great boys picked out +that name for him, Mr. O'Shirk. The O stands for owe, and Shirk stands +for itself. I send home a map to my grandmother, I've just been making, +and I tried hard as I could to do it right, and I hope she will excuse +mistakes, for I never made one before. 'T is the United States. Old +Wonder Boy says he should thought I'd stretched out "Yankee Land" a +little bigger. He calls the New England States "Yankee Land." And he +says they make a mighty poor show on the map. But Mr. Augustus told him +the brains of the whole country were kept in a little place up top, same +as in folks. So W. B. kept still till next time. Dorry said he'd heard +of folks going out of the world into Jersey. If I go to dancing-school, +I should like to have a bosom shirt, and quite a stylish bow. I think +I'm big enough, don't you, for bosom shirts? I had perfect this forenoon +in all. I've lost that pair of spotted mittens, and I don't know where, +I'm sure. I know I put them in my pocket. My hands get just as numb now +with cold! Seems as if things in my pockets got alive and jumped out. I +was clapping 'em and blowing 'em this morning, and that good, tiptop +Wedding Cake teacher told me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> come in his house, and his wife found +some old gloves of his. I never saw a better lady than she is. When she +meets us she smiles and says, "How do you do, William Henry?" or Dorry, +or whatever boy it is. And when W. B. was sick one day she took care of +him. And she asks us to call and see her, and says she likes boys! Dorry +says he's willing to wipe his feet till he wears a hole in the mat, +before he goes in her house. For she don't keep eying your boots. Says +he has seen women brush up a feller's mud right before his face and +eyes. My hair grows darker colored now. And my freckles have 'most faded +out the color of my face. I'm glad of it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Nephew,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Aunt Phebe to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>We are very much pleased indeed with your map. Dear me, how the United +States have altered since they were young, same as the rest of us! That +western part used to be all Territory. You couldn't have done anything +to please your grandmother better. She's hung it up in the front room, +between Napoleon and the Mourning Piece, and thinks everything of it. +Everybody that comes in she says, "Should you like to see the map my +little grandson made,—my little Billy?" You'll always be her little +Billy. She don't seem to think you are growing up so fast. Then she +throws a shawl over her head, and trots across the entry and opens the +shutters, and then she'll say, "Pretty good for a little boy." And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +tells which is Maine, and which is New York, and points out the little +arrow and the printed capital letters. Folks admire fast as they can, +for that room is cold as a barn, winters. The last one she took in was +the minister. Your grandmother sets a sight o' store by you. She's proud +of you, Billy, and you must always act so as to give her reason to be, +and never bring her pride to shame.</p> + +<p>We are willing you should go. At first she was rather against it, though +she says she always meant you should learn to take the steps when you +got old enough, but she was afraid it might tend to making you +light-headed, and to unsteady your mind. This was the other night when +we were talking it over in your kitchen, sitting round the fire. Somehow +we get in there about every evening. Does seem so good to see the blaze. +Your father said if a boy had common sense he'd keep his balance +anywhere, and if dancing-school could spoil a fellow, he wasn't worth +spoiling, worth keeping, I mean. I said I thought it might tend to keep +you from toeing in, and being clumsy in your motions. Your Uncle J. said +he didn't think 't was worth while worrying about our Billy getting +spoiled going to dancing-school, or anybody's Billy, without 't was some +dandyfied coot. "Make the head right and the heart right," says he, "and +let the feet go,—if they want to." So you see, Billy, we expect your +head's right and your heart's right. Are they?</p> + +<p>The girls and I have turned to and cut and made you a couple of bosom +shirts and three bows, for of course you will have to dress rather +different, and think a little more about your looks. But not too much, +Billy! Not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> too much! And don't for gracious sake ever get the notion +that you're good-looking! Don't stick a breastpin in that shirt-bosom +and go about with a strut! I don't know what I hadn't as soon see as see +a vain young man. I do believe if I were to look out, and you should be +coming up my front yard gravel path with a strut, or any sort of +dandyfied airs, I should shut the door in your face. Much as I set by +you, I really believe I should. Lor! what are good looks? What are you +laying out to make of yourself? That's the question. Freckles are not so +bad as vanity. Anybody'd think I was a minister's wife, the way I talk. +But, Billy, you haven't got any mother, and I do think so much of you! +'T would break my heart to see you grow up into one of those +spick-and-span fellers, that are all made up of a bow and a scrape and a +genteel smile! Though I don't think there's much danger, for common +sense runs in the family. No need to go with muddy boots, though, or +linty, or have your bow upside down. You've always been more inclined +that way. Fact is, I want you should be just right. I haven't a minute's +more time to write. Your Uncle J. has promised to finish this.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>This is Lucy Maria writing. The blacksmith sent word he was waiting to +sharpen the colt, and father had to go. He's glad of it, because he +never likes to write letters. I'm glad you are going to dancing-school. +Learn all the new steps you can, so as to show us how they're done. +Hannah Jane's beau has just been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> here. He lives six miles off, close by +where we went once to a clam-bake, when Dorry was here. Georgiana's +great doll, Seraphine, is engaged to a young officer across the road. He +was in the war, and draws a pension of a cent a week. The engagement +isn't out yet, but the family have known it several days, and he has +been invited to tea. He wore his best uniform. Seraphine is invited over +there, and Georgie is making her a spangled dress to wear. The wedding +is to come off next month. I do wish I could think of more news. Father +is the best hand to write news, if you can only get him at it. Once when +I was away, he wrote me a letter and told me what they had for dinner, +and what everybody was doing, and how many kittens the cat had, and how +much the calf weighed, and what Tommy said, and seemed 'most as if I'd +been home and seen them. Be sure and write how you get along at +dancing-school, and what the girls wear.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucy Maria.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Aunt,</span>—</p> + +<p>Thank you for the bosom shirts and the ones that helped make them. +They've come. I like them very much and the bows too. They're made +right. I lent Bubby Short one bow. His box hadn't come. He kept running +to the expressman's about every minute. We began to go last night. If we +miss any questions to-day, we shall have to stay away next night. That's +going to be the rule. O, you ought to 've seen Dorry and me at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> it with +the soap and towels, getting ready! We scrubbed our faces real bright +and shining, and he said he felt like a walking jack-o'-lantern. I +bought some slippers and had to put some cotton-wool in both the toes of +'em to jam my heels out where they belonged to. I don't like to wear +slippers. My bosom shirt sets bully, and I bought a linen-finish paper +collar. I haven't got any breastpin. I don't think I'm good looking. +Dorry doesn't either. I know he don't. That's girls' business. We had to +buy some gloves, because his cousin said the girls wore white ones, and +nice things, and 't wouldn't do if we didn't. Yellowish-brownish ones we +got, so as to keep clean longer. But trying on they split in good many +places, our fingers were so damp, washing 'em so long. Lame Betsey is +going to sew the holes up. When we got there we didn't dare to go in, +first of it, but stood peeking in the door, and by and by Old Wonder Boy +gave me a shove and made me tumble in. I jumped up quick, but there was +a great long row of girls, and they all went, "Tee hee hee! tee hee +hee!" Then Mr. Tornero stamped and put us in the gentlemen's row. Then +both rows had to stand up and take positions, and put one heel in the +hollow of t' other foot, and then t' other heel in that one's hollow, +and make bows and twist different ways. And right in front was a whole +row of girls, all looking. But they made mistakes theirselves sometimes.</p> + +<p>First thing we learned the graces, and that is to bend way over +sideways, with one hand up in the air, and the other 'most way down to +the floor, then shift about on t' other tack, then come down on one +knee, with one hand way behind, and the other one reached out ahead as +if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> 't was picking up something a good ways off. We have to do these +graces to make us limberer, so to dance easier. I tell you 't is mighty +tittlish, keeping on one knee and the other toe, and reaching both ways, +and looking up in the air. I did something funny. I'll tell you, but +don't tell Grandmother. Of course 't was bad, I know 't was, made 'em +all laugh, but I didn't think of their all pitching over. You see I was +at one end of the row and W. B. was next, and we were fixed all as I +said, kneeling down in that tittlish way, reaching out both ways, before +and behind, and looking up, and I remembered how he shoved me into the +room, and just gave him a little bit of a shove, and he pitched on to +the next one, and he on to the next, and that one on to the next, and so +that whole row went down, just like a row of bricks! Course everybody +laughed, and Mr. Tornero did too, but he soon stamped us still again. +And then just as they all got still again, I kept seeing how they all +went down, and I shut up my mouth, but all of a sudden that laugh shut +up inside made a funny sort of squelching sound, and he looked at me +cross and stamped his foot again. Now I suppose he'll think I'm a bad +one, just for that tumbling in and shoving that row down and then +laughing when I was trying to keep in! He wants we should practise the +graces between times, to limber us up. Dorry and I do them up in our +room. Guess you'd laugh if you could see, when we do that first part, +bending over sideways, one hand up and one down. I tried to draw us, but +'t is a good deal harder drawing crooked boys than 't is straight ones, +so 't isn't a very good picture. The boys that go keep practising in the +entries and everywhere, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> other ones do it to make fun of us, so +you keep seeing twisted boys everywhere. Bubby Short was kneeling down +out doors across the yard, on one knee, and I thought he was taking aim +at something, but he said he was doing the graces. I must study now. +Bubby Short got punished a real funny way at school to-day. I'll tell +you next time. I'm in a hurry to study now.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Nephew,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Dorry's just come in. He and Bubby Short and I bought "Seraphine" +some wedding presents and he's done 'em up in cotton-wool, and they'll +come to her in a pink envelope. Dorry sent that red-stoned ring and I +sent the blue-stoned. We thought they'd do for a doll's bracelets. Bubby +Short sends the artificial rosebud. He likes flowers,—he keeps a +geranium. We bought the presents at the Two Betseys' Shop. They said +they'd do for bracelets. Dorry says, "Don't mention the price, for 't +isn't likely everybody can make such dear presents, and might hurt their +feelings." We tried to make some poetry, but couldn't think of but two +lines.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When you're a gallant soldier's wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May you be happy all your life!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Dorry says that's enough, for she couldn't be any more than happy all +her life. "Can too!" W. B. said. "Can be good!" "O, poh!" Bubby Short +said; "she can't be happy without she's good, can she?" But I want to +study my lesson now.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Those bosom shirts are the best things I ever had.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although it would have been a vast sacrifice, I think I would have +almost given my best pair of shoes for a chance of seeing Billy when +dressed to go to the dancing-school. A boy in his first bosom shirt is +such an amusing sight. You can easily pick one out in a crowd by his +satisfied air, and stiff gait; by the setting back of the shoulders, and +the throwing out of the chest,—as if that smooth, white, starched +expanse did not set out enough of itself! Some have a way of looking up +at gentlemen, as much as to say, <i>We</i> wear bosom shirts! But of course +those of us boys and men who have passed through this experience +remember all about it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Lucy Maria to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>That famous wedding came off yesterday afternoon. There were fifteen +invited. I do wish I had time to tell you all about it. Mother made a +real wedding-cake. Georgie has hardly slept a wink for a week, I do +believe, thinking about it. The young soldier wore his epaulets, having +been made General the day before. The bride was dressed in pure white, +of course, with a long veil, of course, too, and orange blossoms, real +orange blossoms that I made myself. The presents were spread out on the +baby-house table. Perhaps you don't know that Georgie has a baby-house. +It is made of a sugar-box, set up on end papered with housepaper inside, +and brown outside. It has a down below, an up stairs, and garret. I do +wish I had time to tell you all about the wedding, but Matilda's a +churning, and I promised to part the butter and work it over, if she +would fetch it. I do wish you could hear her singing away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, butter, come! come, butter, come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peter stands at the gate, waiting for his buttered cake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, butter, come!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Besides the baby-house table, the presents were laid on the roof of the +baby-house. There were sontags, shoes, hats and feathers, and all sorts +of clothes, the rosebud, your jewelry, and more besides, also spoons, +dishes, gridirons, vases and everything they could possibly want, to +keep house with, even to flatirons and a cooking-stove. The hands of the +happy couple were fastened together, and they stood up (there was a pile +of books behind them). Then the trouble was, who should be the minister? +At last we saw that funny Dicky Willis, your old crony, peeping in the +window, and made him come in and be the minister. He was just the right +one for it. He charged the bridegroom to give his wife everything she +asked for, and keep her in dry kindlings, and let her have her own way, +and always wipe his feet, and not smoke in the house, and never find +fault; and charged her to sew on his buttons, and have plum-pudding +often, and let him smoke in the house, and never want any new clothes, +and always mind her husband, and let him bring in mud on his feet, and +always have a smiling face, even if the baby-house was a burning down +over their heads, and then pronounced them man and wife. I could fill up +half a dozen sheets of paper, if I had time, but I'm afraid of that +butter. Everybody shook hands with them, and kissed them, and the +wedding-cake was passed round, and then the children played</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Little Sally Waters, sitting in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying and weeping for her lost one."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>In the midst of everything Tommy came in with Georgiana's atlas, and +said he'd found "two kick-cases." He meant those two black hemispheres, +that are pictured out in the beginning. Mother put a raisin in his +mouth, and hushed him up. The happy couple have gone on a wedding tour +to Susie Snow's grandmother's <i>country</i> <i>seat</i>. It is expected that they +will live half the time with Georgie, and half at the General's +head-quarters. But their plans may be altered; this is a changing world, +and a young couple can't always tell what's before them. I do wish you'd +write how you get on at dancing-school, and what the great girls wear, +about my age. O dear what an age it is! 'T is dreadful to think of! +'Most eighteen! Did you ever hear of anybody being so old? Now truly I'm +'most ashamed to own how old I am. Eighteen next month! Hush, don't +tell! Keep it private! I do wish I could grow backwards, and grow back +into a baby-house if 't were nothing but a sugar-box. I do long to cut +my hair off and go in a long-sleeved tier, and I've a good mind to. We +don't think you made a very good beginning. Guess your Mr.—I can't +think of his name—thought there was need enough of your learning to +enter a room. Mother's going to put a note in this letter. I've made her +promise not to scold you, but she's got something particular to say. +Father will too. I told him 't would be just what you would like, one of +his letters. Matilda says the butter has sent word it's coming. Write +soon.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucy Maria.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I was very sorry not to be able to attend the wedding. My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> present was +half a dozen holders. The woman with whom I board said I couldn't give a +bride anything more useful. Her little daughter made them for me, at the +rate of two cents apiece. They were an inch wide, and all had loops at +the corners.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Note from Uncle Jacob.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">How are you, young man</span>?</p> + +<p>I am very glad you go to dancing-school. Boys, as a general thing, are +too fond of study, and 't is a good plan to have some contrivance to +take their minds off their books. I suppose you'd like to know what is +going on here at home. Your grandmother sits by the fire knitting some +mittens for you to lose, so be sure you do it. [She says, tell him to be +sure when he goes to dancing-school to wear his overcoat.] Your aunt +Phebe is making jelly tarts. Says I can't have any till meal-time. [Tell +him to be sure and get cooled off some before he comes away.] Your +grandmother can't help worrying about that dancing-school. Matilda is +picking over raisins for the pies. She won't sit very close to me. Now +Tommy has come in, crying with cold hands. Lucy Maria is soaking them in +cold water. I don't doubt he'll get a tart. Yes, he has. First he cries, +and then he takes a bite. [Tell him not to go and come in his slippers.] +Aunt Phebe says, "Now there's William Henry growing up, you ought to +give him some advice." But I tell her that a boy almost in his teens +knows himself what's right and what's wrong. Now Georgiana has come in +crying. Says she stepped her foot through a puddle of ice. Grandmother +has set her up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> to dry her foot. Now she'll get a tart, I suppose! Yes +she has. [Tell him to look right at the teacher's feet.] That's good +advice if you expect to learn how. Now your aunt says I'm such a good +boy to write letters she's going to give me this one that's burnt on the +edge. [Tell him to brush his clothes and not go linty.] More good +advice. I guess now I've got the tart I won't write any more. Of course +we expect you to do just about right. If you neglect your studies and so +waste your father's money, you'll be an ungrateful scamp. If you get +into any contemptible mean ways, we shall be ashamed to own you. Do you +mean to do anything or be anything now or ever? If you do, 't is time +you were thinking about it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Uncle Jacob.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>All between the brackets are messages from your grandmother.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +J. U.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Note from Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>When you get as far as choosing partners, there's a word I want to say +to you, though, as you're a pretty good dispositioned boy, maybe there's +no need; still you may not always think, so 'twill do no harm to say it. +There are always some girls that don't dance quite so well, or don't +look quite so well, or don't dress quite so well, or are not liked quite +so well, or are not quite so much acquainted. Now I don't want you to +all the time, but sometimes, say once in an evening, I want you to pick +out one of these for your partner. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> know 't isn't the way boys do. But +you can. Suppose you don't have a good time that one dance. You weren't +sent into the world to have a good time every minute of your life! How +would you like to sit still all the evening? I've been spectator at such +times, and I've seen how things go on! Why, if boys would be more +thoughtful, every girl might have a good time, besides doing the boys +good to think of something besides their own comfort. If I were you I +wouldn't try to make fun, but try to learn, for though your father was +willing you should go, and wants to do everything he can for you, he has +to work hard for his money. Lucy Maria is waiting to hear how you get +on.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Phebe.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Lucy Maria.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>I was going to write to you before, how I was getting along, but have +had to study very hard. We've been five times. The girls wear slippers +and brown boots and other colors, and white dresses and blue and all +kinds, and long ribbons, and a good many pretty girls go. If girls +didn't go, I should like to go better. I mean till we know how, for I'd +rather make mistakes when only boys were looking. And I make a good +many, because he says I don't have time and tune. He says my feet come +down sometimes right square athwart the time. So I watched the rest, and +when they put their feet down, I did mine. But that was a stroke too +late, he said. Said "time and tune waits for no man." I like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> to +promenade, because a feller can go it some then. We learn all kinds of +waltzes and redowas and polkas. I can polka with one that knows how. +Whirling round makes me light-headed just as Grandmother said. But I get +over it some. We are going to do the German at the last of it. The worst +of it is cutting across the room to get your partners. He calls out when +we're all standing up in two rows, "First gentleman take the first +lady!" Now, supposing I'm first gentleman, I have to go way across to +first lady with all of 'em looking, and fix my feet right way, one heel +in the other hollow, and then make my bow, and then she has to make that +kind of kneeling-down bow that girls do, and then we wait till all of +'em get across one by one. Then we take the step a little while, and +then launch off round the hall, polking, or else get into quadrilles. +And if we do we make graces to the partners and the corners. I like +quadrilles best, because you can hop round some and have a good time, if +you have a good partner. You can dance good deal better with a good +partner. Last time I had that one the fellers call "real estate," +because you can't move her she don't ever get ready to start, and when +'t is time to turn stands still as a post.</p> + +<p>Dorry and I practise going across after partners, up in our room. You +ought to 've seen us yesterday! Dorry was the lady. If he didn't look +funny! He fixed the table-cloth off the entry table, to make it look +like his mother's opera-cape, and fastened a great sponge on for a +waterfall, and fizzled out his hair, and had a little tidy on top his +head, and that red bow you sent me right in front of it. Then he stood +out by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> window, and kept looking at his opera-cape, and smoothing it +down, and poking his hair, and holding his handkerchief, the way girls +do, and kept whispering, or making believe, to Bubby Short, the way +girls do. Then I went across and made my bow, and he made that +kneeling-down bow, and then we tried to polka redowa, but our boots +tripped us up, and we couldn't stand up, and laughed so we tumbled down, +and didn't hear anybody coming till he knocked, and 't was the teacher, +come to see what the matter was. Not Wedding Cake, but Old Brown Bread, +and he said dancing mustn't be brought into our studies, and scolded +more, but I saw his eyes laughing, looking at Dorry. One of the boys +tumbled down stairs, doing the graces in the entry, too near the edge, +and it's forbidden now. Some of the first-class fellers put up a notice +one night in the entry, great printed letters.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p200.jpg" width="448" height="138" alt="NO ADMITTANCE TO THE GRACES" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>That owl stands for Minerva. I couldn't make a very good one because I'm +in such a hurry to do my examples. The goddess of wisdom used to be +named Minerva. She was painted with an owl. I've been reading it in the +Classical Dictionary. Dorry and Bubby Short and I have just been to the +Two Betseys to get our gloves sewed up, and the Other Betsey said she +used to dance like a top. Then she held her dress up with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> thumbs +and fingers, and took four different kinds of balances. Made us die a +laughing, she hopped up and down so.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S That <span class="smcap">to</span> isn't left out in the notice, it's my own mistake.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The remaining letters were probably written during his last term at the +school.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Matilda's Letter to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>Lucy Maria keeps telling me that I promised to write you a letter, but I +wish I hadn't promised to write you one, because I don't like to write +letters very well, for I can't think of anything to write. But Lucy +Maria she likes to, and that would do just as well as for me to. But +mother says I ought to often, so as to get me in the habit of it. I +don't have very much time to write very long letters, for the girls are +getting up a Fair, and I am helping do the old woman in her shoe, and +gentlemen's pincushions, and presents for the arrow table, where the +arrow swings round and points to your present, and so I don't get very +much time between schools. For we have to write compositions every week +now, and all the girls think the teacher is just as mean as he can be to +make us. We want he should take off some of the compositions and put +more on to our other lessons; but no. He thinks 't is the best thing we +can do. He don't care about anything else, I believe. Susie Snow says +she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> believes he's all made up of composition. Our next subject is +"Economy" and we've got to put in time wasted, and health wasted, and +money wasted. Susie Snow is going to put in hers that girls should never +waste their time writing compositions.</p> + +<p>I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in +a sandy desert, I believe. But she don't have to go to school. Hannah +Jane hasn't got home from Aunt Matilda's yet. The minister and his wife +and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond +of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe +brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. 'T is very pleasant +weather. I wish you'd come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are +thick as spatters, and I don't have much time. The dog stepped on my +sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven't come up. Father says I better +go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache, +that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that's in the +Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up +four times, and I've brought it in the house and stuck it in a +cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because 't was used to +pepper at home, but I can't tell what he means and what he don't, he +funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to.</p> + +<p>O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But 't is quite bad news. It +happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us +cried. I couldn't help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till 't was big +enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating +supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy +hadn't got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was. +Father said he didn't doubt he'd gone to find his turtle. He had a +turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he'd have to +have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep +things about for him when he don't come straight home to his meals. He'd +rather play than eat. 'T is only a little school he goes to. Not very +far off. Five scholars, that's all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell +about our cow.</p> + +<p>We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn't think what the matter +was. 'T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard, +crying and hollering both together, "Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!" Much +as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what 't was, for he +knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and +Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow! +She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises, +and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper +in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn't do anything.</p> + +<p>"Rails! rails!" they all called out, and we pulled them out of the +fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft +she sank in so they couldn't do anything with her. Much as they could do +to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> rotten rail, and it +broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two +canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to +go get some boards. There weren't any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade's +new house, and that was too far off, and father said 't was too late, +for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. 'Most all the women and +girls came away then, for we couldn't bear to stay any longer to see her +suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes +looked very mournful.</p> + +<p>In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got +her up, but not soon enough. She's buried now, under the poplar-tree, in +that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed +to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana +about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn't the best +breed, but she's part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not +very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent. +Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart, +that don't hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to +have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can't screw her +courage up, and can't take the time. Your father says he wants to see +her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she +might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy's trousers, +that would be natural. He's always making barn-doors in his trousers, +he's such a climbing fellow.</p> + +<p>L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> father's going to make +up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told +us about, and I'm going to be a music teacher, I guess. I'm going to +begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a +mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha' n't I be glad! But Susie Snow +says I shall sing another tune after I've taken a little while. Father +says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to +practise two hours a day. I'd just as soon promise that as not. 'T is +just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house. +Seems if I couldn't believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew +how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now, +William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as +possible.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Matilda.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Cousin Joe has sent me a smelling-bottle, a little gilt one he +brought home, that's got ninety-four different smells in it. Mother is +writing you a note. She says you can't dance on her carpet. Father says +he's sorry he didn't learn the graces, and means to when you come again. +We can dance in the barn. Tommy has just come in. He says he knows his B +A C's. He's a funny boy. He means A B C's. But he always gets the horse +before the cart. One day we tried to make conundrums, and Georgiana made +this,—see if you can answer it: Which is best, to have plum-cake for +supper and only have a little mite of a piece, or cookies, and have as +many as you want?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>Georgiana's kitty has just jumped over the fence. She's after my +morning-glories again. Just as fast as I fasten 'em up, she goes to +playing with the strings and claws 'em down again. Lucy Maria drew a +picture of her doing it.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +M.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Note from Dorry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear William Henry's Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>William Henry wants I should tell you not to be scared when you see +another boy's handwriting on the back of this letter, and not to think +he's got cold, or got anything else, like measles, or anything of that +kind, and not to feel worried about his not writing for so long, for he +is all right except the first joint of his forefinger. He crooked that +joint, or else uncrooked it, playing base ball. 'T was a heavy ball and +he took it whole on that joint, and 't is so stiff he can't handle a +penholder. He thinks you will all wonder why he doesn't write, and worry +about his getting sick or something, but he never felt better. Appetite +very good. He has received his cousin Matilda's letter, and will answer +it when he can. He wants to know what she'd think if she had to write +poetry for composition. Our teacher told us we must each write one verse +about June. I put three of them in for you to see, but don't put our +names.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O I love the verdant June,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the birds are all in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the rowers go out to row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the mowers go out to mow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O, sweetly smells the fragrant hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As we ride on the load and stow it away."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"In June we can sail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the gentle gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the waters blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And catch cod-fish<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That make a good dish,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And mackerel too."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In June the summer skies are clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soon green apples do appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And though they're hard and sour, we know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That every day they'll better grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This teaches us that boys, also,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Every day should better grow."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P. S. He wants I should tell you 't is tied up in a rag all right and +don't hinder his studying. Says he wishes his cousin Lucy Maria would +write him one of her kind of letters, that she knows how to write, and +tell what they are all doing and what they talk about, and when his +finger is well he will answer all the letters they will write to him.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Very respectfully,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Billy's Friend, Dorry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Aunt Phebe's Note.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>Grandmother worries about that finger. Do ask Dorry to write again, or +else take the penholder in your middle one, though we mistrust that's +damaged, or you'd have written before this. I've had my picture taken +and send you one to keep. Look at it often, and if you've done anything +wrong, think it shakes its head at you! Little wrong things, or big +ones, all the same. For little wrongs are more dangerous, because we +think they're of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> no account. But they show what's in a person, same as +a little pattern of goods tells what the whole piece is. Show me half an +inch of cotton and I'll tell you what color the whole spool is.</p> + +<p>I'd no idea of having my picture taken. I was right in the heart of +baking, when your Uncle J. drove up and said he'd harnessed up on +purpose. 'T was all a contrived plan between him and the girls. I saw +them smiling together when Mattie brought out my black alpaca. I thought +the girls seemed mighty ready to take hold and finish up the baking. But +he got caught in his own trap, for Lucy Maria went with us, to make sure +my collar and things looked fit to be taken, and she set her foot down +we shouldn't leave the saloon till he'd had his, for she was going to +have a locket with us both inside, and I had to be done over small. What +an operation it is to have your picture taken! If we could only take +ether and be carried through! He put my head in a clamp, and crossed my +hands, and pinned up a black rag for me to look at, and told me to look +easy and natural, and smile a very little! I'm sure I tried to, but your +Uncle J. says 't is a very melancholy face, and Lucy Maria says the +cheek-bones cast a shadow! Your father says the worst of it is, it does +look like me! I think it's too bad to make fun of it, after all I passed +through! Your Uncle J. took things easy and joked with the man, and was +laughing when the cover was taken off and didn't dare to unlaugh, he +says, so he came out all right, with a laughing face, as he always is. +The girls want we should be taken large and hang up, side by side, in +two oval frames, over the mantel-piece. But their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> father says he sha' +n't be hung up alive, if he can help himself.</p> + +<p>It isn't likely I shall write to you again very soon. Cousin Joe and his +accordion are coming, and he'll bring his sisters, and the young folks +about here know them, and I expect there'll be nothing but frolicking. +Then there'll be some of your Uncle J.'s folks after that, so you see +we'll be all in a hubbub and I shall have to be the very hub of the +hubbub, I suppose. Lucy Maria says, "Tell William Henry to send us a +charade, or something to amuse the company with." Write when you can.</p> + +<p>With a great deal of love, your affectionate</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">Aunt Phebe.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Take good care of your finger. A finger-joint would be a great +loss. I think cold water is as good as anything. Grandmother wishes you +had some of her carrot salve. Let us hear from you in some way. +Grandmother wants to know if the Two Betseys don't make carrot salve.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>I must add here that Lucy Maria was not the girl to give up those +pictures in "two oval frames." For by perseverance, and partly with my +assistance, the thing was secretly managed, and managed so well that +Uncle Jacob actually carried them out home himself, in a bundle to Lucy +Maria, without knowing it! And they now hang in triumph over the +fireplace in the "girls' chamber."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Lucy Maria to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Billy,</span>—</p> + +<p>'T is a pity about that forefinger. Pray get it well enough to handle a +pen, 't is so long since you've written.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> So you want home matters +reported. Eatable matters of course will be most interesting. Milk and +butter, plenty. Gingerbread (plain), ditto. Gingerbread (fancy), scarce. +Cookies, quiet. Plum-cake, in demand. Snaps, lively. Brown-bread, firm. +White-bread (sliced), dull. Biscuits (hot), brisk. Custard, unsteady. +Preserves not in the market.</p> + +<p>What do we do, and what do we talk about? Why, we talk about our cousin +William Henry, and what we do can't be told within the bounds of one +letter. Think of seven cows' milk to churn into butter, besides a cheese +now and then, and besides working for the extra hands we hire this time +o' year! I should have written to you before, when we first heard of +your accident, if I could have got the time. Hannah Jane is away, and +we've let Mattie go with Susie Snow to Grandma Snow's again for a few +days. Grandma Snow likes to have Mattie come with Susie, for 't is +rather a still, dull place. So you must think we are quite lonesome here +now, and we are, especially mother. Father tells her she'd better +advertise for a companion. I've a good mind to advertise to be a +companion. What do companions do? The old lady might be cross, or the +old gentleman, but that wouldn't hurt me, so long as I kept clever +myself. Don't doubt I'd get fun out of it some way. There's fun in about +everything I think.</p> + +<p>I've been trying to get father and mother to go to Aunt Lucy's and stay +all night. But father thinks there wouldn't be anybody to shut the +barn-door, and mother thinks there wouldn't be anybody to do anything, +though I've promised to scald the pans, and do up the starched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> things, +and keep Tommy out of the sugar-bowl. He takes a lump every chance he +can get. Takes after his father. Father puts sugar on sweetened +puddings, if mother isn't looking! We've made some verses to plague +Tommy, and when Mattie gets her piano, they're going to be set to music.</p> + +<h4>SONG.</h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Sweet Tommy.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As turns the needle to the pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Tommy to the sugar-bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Tra la la, tra la la!<br /></span> +<span class="i24">Sweet, sweet Tommy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tommy always takes a toll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Going by the sugar-bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Tra la la, tra la la!<br /></span> +<span class="i24">Sweet, sweet Tommy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were Tommy blind as any mole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'd always find the sugar-bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Tra la la, tra la la!<br /></span> +<span class="i24">Sweet, sweet Tommy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He's a funny talking fellow. We took him into town last night, to see +the illumination. This morning we heard him and Frankie Snow telling +Benny Joyce about it. Father and I were listening behind the blinds. +Made father's eyes twinkle. Don't you know how they twinkle when he's +tickled?</p> + +<p>"You didn't see the <i>rumination</i> and we did!" we heard Tommy say.</p> + +<p>"Rumination? What's a rumination?" asked Benny.</p> + +<p>"O hoo! hoo!" cried Tommy. "Denno what a rumination is!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why," said Frankie, "don't you know the <i>publicans</i>? Wal, that's it."</p> + +<p>"O poh!" said Benny. "Publicans and sinners! I knew they's coming!"</p> + +<p>"And soldiers!" said Frankie. "O my! All a marching together!"</p> + +<p>"O poh!" said Benny. "I see 'em go by. Paint-pots on their heads, and +brushes <i>in</i> 'em! I wasn't goin' to chase!"</p> + +<p>"Guess nobody wouldn't let ye?" said Frankie.</p> + +<p>"Didn't either!" cried Tommy, "didn't have paint-pots!"</p> + +<p>"Did!" said Benny. "Guess my great brother knows!"</p> + +<p>"Guess we know," said Frankie, "when we went!"</p> + +<p>"And the town was all <i>celebrated</i>," said Tommy. And the houses all +<i>gloomed</i> up! And horses! O my!</p> + +<p>"O poh!" said Benny. "When I grow up, I'm goin' to have a span!"</p> + +<p>If mother does go, she'll take Tommy, for she wouldn't sleep a wink away +from him over night. Father pretends he'd go if he had a handsome span. +Says he hasn't got a horse in the barn good enough to take mother out +riding. When Mammy Sarah was here washing, she told him how he could get +a good span. You know he's always joking about taking summer boarders. +Says Mammy Sarah, "Now 't is a wonder to me you don't do it, for summer +boarders is as good as a gold-mine. Money runs right out of their +pockets, and all you have to do is to catch it." She says we could make +enough out of a couple of them, in a month's time, to buy a handsome +span, and she isn't sure but the harness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>I think we begin to be a little in earnest about summer boarders. For we +have rooms enough, in both houses together, and milk and vegetables, and +mother's a splendid cook. Mammy Sarah says, "They ain't diffikilt, and +after they've been in the country couple of weeks, they don't eat so +very much more than other folks."</p> + +<p>Father says he wants to take them more for the entertainment than the +money. He wants rich ones, but not the sensible kind, that know money +isn't the only thing worth having. Says what he wants is that silly, +stuck-up kind, that put on airs, and make fools of themselves, they'd be +so amusing! Thinks the best sort for our use would be specimens that +went up quite sudden from poor to rich, like balloons, all filled with +gas. I believe there'd be lots of fun to be made out of them. I've seen +one or two. Gracious! You'd think they weren't born on the same planet +with poor folks. Mother'd rather have the really well-informed, sensible +kind, that we may learn something from them. A couple of each would be +just the thing. How do you like mother's picture? We don't feel at all +satisfied with it. If she could only be taken at home! Then she'd look +natural. Father says the world is going ahead so fast, he believes the +time will come when every family will have its own picture-machine, much +as it has its own frying-pan. Then when folks have on their best +expressions, why, clap it right before them. Then they'll look homish. +Says what he wants is to have mother's face when she's just made a batch +of uncommon light biscuits, or when Tommy's said something smart. Won't +there be funny pictures when we can hold up a machine before anybody +any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> minute, like a frying-pan, and catch faces glad, or mad, or sad, or +any way? I made believe take Tommy's and then showed them to him on a +piece of paper. Guess I'll put them in the letter. They'll do to amuse +you. I draw an hour or so every day. First, I have to make my hour. +Sometimes I have to make more. For I will read a little, if the world +stops because of it. But about the faces. First one is when he was +crying because he couldn't have sugar on his potatoes. Next one is when +he was spunky at Frankie Snow for bursting his little red balloon. The +pleased-looking face is when father brought him home a little ship all +rigged, and the laughing one is when the cow put her head in the window. +We tell him we'll have them framed and hung up so he can see just how he +looks. Mother says 't is all very well to laugh at Tommy, but she +guesses some older ones' pictures wouldn't always look smiling and +pleasant, take them the year through!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"> +<img src="images/p214.jpg" width="336" height="439" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>As soon as your finger is itself again do write, for we miss your +letters. We expect to have gay times here this summer. Company coming, +but we sha' n't make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> company of them. Except to have splendid times. +What shall we do evenings? If you go anywhere where there is anything +going on, do write us about it, so we can go on the same way. When are +you coming? Write me a good long letter when you can.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lucy Maria.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Your father is going to write you a letter. Quite wonderful for him. O +William Henry, you don't know how much I think of your father, and what +a good man he is! I guess you'd better write to your grandmother before +you do me; she's so pleased to have you write to her.</p> + +<p>Father wants to know when that ball hit you if you <i>bawled</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>Lucy Maria's "picture-taker" made a great deal of fun for them, and +possibly did some good. She constructed a queer long-handled affair, +and, at the most unexpected moments, this would be thrust before the +faces of different members of the family, more especially Tommy, +Matilda, or Georgiana, and their "pictures" would be sure to appear to +them soon after, "glad, or mad, or sad, or any way."</p> + +<p>And the plan of "summer boarders" also furnished entertainment. The talk +on this subject was quite amusing, particularly when it touched the +subject of "advertising." Lucy Maria suggested this ending:—</p> + +<p>"None but the silly, or the really well-informed need apply." But Mr. +Carver thought such a notice would fail of bringing a single boarder. +For silly people did not know they were silly, and the really +well-informed were the very last ones to think themselves so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Aunt Phebe.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Aunt Phebe,</span>—</p> + +<p>I thank you for taking your time to write to me, when you have so much +work to do. My forefinger has about recovered the use of itself. The +middle one did go lame a spell, but now 't is very well, I thank you. +Mrs. Wedding Cake did them up for me. I think she's a very kind woman. +Dorry says he'd put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes, or lay +down his life, if she wanted him to, or anything else, for the only +woman he knows that will smile on boys' mud and on boys' noise.</p> + +<p>Ten of us went on an excursion with the teacher, half-price, to Boston, +and had a long ride in the cars, over forty miles. We went everywhere, +and saw lots of things. Went into the Natural History building. You can +go in for nothing. You stand on the floor, at the bottom and look way up +to the top. All round inside are galleries running round, with alcoves +letting out of them, where they keep all sorts of unknown beasts and +birds and bugs and snakes. Some of those great birds are regular +smashers! 'Most dazzles your eyes to look at their feathers, they're +such bright red! I'd just give a guess how tall they were, but don't +believe I'd come within a foot or two. Also butterflies of every kind, +besides skeletons of monkeys and children and minerals and all kinds of +grasses and seeds, and nuts there such as you never cracked or thought +of! They are there because they are seeds, not because they are nuts. +And there's a cast of a great ugly monster, big as several elephants, +that used to walk round the earth before any men lived in it. If he +wasn't a ripper! Could leave his hind feet on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> ground and put his +fore paws up in the trees and eat the tops off! They call him a +Megotharium! I hope he's spelt right, though he ought not to expect it, +and I don't know as it makes much difference, seeing he lived thousands +of years before the flood, and lucky he did, Dorry says, for the old ark +couldn't have floated with many of that sort aboard. He wasn't named +till long after he was dead and buried. Patient waiter is no loser, +Dorry says, for he's got more name than the ones that live now, and is +taken more notice of. We saw a cannon-ball on the side of Brattle Street +Church, where 't was fired in the Revolution, and we went to the top of +the State House. Made our knees ache going up so many steps, but it +pays. For you can look all over the harbor, and all round the country, +and see the white towns, and steeples, for miles and miles. Boston was +built on three hills and the State House is on one of them. I can't +write any more, now.</p> + +<p>W. B. has left school, because his father got a place for him in New +York. His father thought he was old enough to begin. He's a good deal +older than I am.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Nephew,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p217.jpg" width="448" height="246" alt="" title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>How do you like this picture of that great Mego—I won't try to spell +him again—eating off the tree-tops? The leaves on the trees then were +different from the ones we have now. Dorry made the leaves, and I made +the creature.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>A Letter to William Henry from his Father.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Son,</span>—</p> + +<p>Perhaps you have thought that because I am rather a silent man, and do +not very often write you a letter, that I have not very much feeling and +do not take interest in you. But no one knows how closely I am watching +my boy as Time is bringing him up from boyhood to manhood.</p> + +<p>Sometimes your grandmother worries about your being where there may be +bad boys; but I tell her that among so many there must be both good and +bad, and if you choose the bad you show very poor judgment. I think if a +boy picks out bad companions it shows there is something bad in himself.</p> + +<p>She says I ought to keep giving you good advice, now you are just +starting in life, and charge you to be honest and truthful and so forth. +I tell her that would be something as it would be if you were just +starting on a pleasant journey, and I should say, "Now, William Henry, +don't put out your own eyes at the beginning, or cut the cords of your +legs!" Do you see what I mean? A boy that is <i>not</i> honest and truthful +puts out his own eyes and cripples himself at the very beginning.</p> + +<p>There is a good deal said about arriving at honor and distinction. I +don't want you to think about <i>arriving</i> at honor. I want you to take +honor to start with. And as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> for distinction, a man, in the long run, is +never distinguished for anything but what he really is. So make up your +mind just what you want to pass for, and be it. For you will pass for +what you are, not what you try to appear. Go into the woods and see how +easily you can tell one tree from another. You see oak leaves on one, +and you know that is oak all the way through. You see pine needles on +another, and you know that is pine all the way through. A pine-tree may +want to look like an oak, and try to look like an oak, and think it does +look like an oak, as it can't see itself. But nobody is cheated. So a +rascally fellow may want to appear fair and honest, and try to appear +fair and honest, and think he does appear fair and honest, as he can't +see himself. But, in the long run, nobody is cheated. For you can read a +man's character about as easy as you can the leaves on the trees. +Sometimes I sit down in a grocery store and hear the neighbors talked +about, and 't is curious to find how well everybody is known. It seems +as if every man walked round, labelled, as you may say, same as preserve +jars are labelled, currant, quince, &c. Only he don't know what his +label is. Just as likely as not a man may think his label is Quince +Marmelade, when 't is only Pickled String Beans!</p> + +<p>Just so with boys. Grown folks notice boys a great deal, though when I +was a boy, I never knew they did. The little affairs of play-time and +school-time, and their home-ways are all talked over, and by the time a +boy is twelve years old, it is pretty well known what sort of a man he +will make.</p> + +<p>Now don't mistake my meaning. I don't want you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> be true because +people will know it if you are not, but because it is right and noble to +be so. I want you to be able to respect yourself. Never do anything that +you like yourself any the less for doing.</p> + +<p>A boy of your age is old enough to be looking ahead some, to see what he +is aiming at. I don't suppose you want to drift, like the sea-weed, that +lodges wherever the waves toss it up! Set up your mark, and a good high +one. And be sure and remember that, as a general thing, there is no such +thing as luck. If a man seems to be a lucky merchant, or lawyer, or +anything else, 't is because he has the talent, the industry, the +determined will, that make him so. People see the luck, but they don't +always see the "taking pains" that's behind it. I remember you wrote us +a letter once, and spoke of a nice house, with nice things inside, that +you meant to have by "trying hard enough." There's a good deal in that. +We've got to try hard, and try long, and try often, and try again, and +keep trying. That house never'll come down to you. You've got to climb +up to it, step by step. I don't know as I have anything to say about the +folly of riches. On the contrary, I think 't is a very good plan to have +money enough to buy books and other things worth having. I don't see why +a man can't be getting knowledge and growing better, at the same time he +is growing richer. Some poor folks have a prejudice against rich folks. +I haven't any. Rich people have follies, but poor people copy them if +they can. That is to say, we often see poor people making as big fools +of themselves as they can, with the means they have. Money won't hurt +you, Billy, so long as you keep common sense and a true heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>We are all watching you and thinking of you, here at home. If you +<i>should</i> go wrong 't would be a sad blow for both families. Perhaps I +ought to tell you how I feel towards you, and how, ever since your +mother's death, my heart has been bound up in you and Georgie. You would +then know what a crushing thing it would be to me if you were found +wanting in principle. But I am not very good, either at talking or +writing, so do remember, dear boy, that even when I don't say a word, +I'm thinking about you and loving you always. God bless you!</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Father.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>W. B., it seems, from his own account, set sail on the great sea of +commerce with flying colors, and favorable winds,—probably the +Trade-winds.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>Old Wonder Boy to William Henry.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend,</span>—</p> + +<p>I like my place, and think it is a very excellent one. It is "Veazey & +Summ's." When you get a place it is my advice that you should procure +one in New York, as New York is greatly superior to Boston. Boston is a +one-horse place. I wouldn't be seen riding in that slow coach. +Washington Street could be put whole into Broadway, and not know it was +there hardly, for you could travel both sides and all round it. Our +store is a very excellent store. Some consider it greatly superior to +Stewart's. All our clerks dress in very superior style and go in very +good society, and so I learn to use very good language. We keep boys to +do the errands, and porters. All the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> stylish people do their trading +here. The young ladies like to trade with me very much. The New York +ladies are greatly superior to any other ladies. The firm think a great +deal of me, so I expect to be promoted quite fast. I am learning to +smoke. I have got a very handsome pipe. The head clerk thinks it has got +a very superior finish to it. We two are quite thick. How are all the +fellers? Write soon. Remember me to all inquiring friends, and excuse +handwriting.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Walter Briesden.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Matilda.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>Now I'm going to answer your letter, and then I sha' n't have to think +about it any longer. I was sorry to hear about poor Reddie. But if it +had been Tommy, then it would have been a great deal worse. Think of +that. Dorry and I have been wishing 'most a week about something, and +now I'll tell you what 't is about. About a party. 'T is going to be at +Colonel Grey's. He lives in a large light-colored brick house, with a +piazza round it, and a fountain, and bronze dogs, and everything lovely. +It is Maud Grey's birthday party. Sixteen years old. Old and young are +going to be invited, because her little sister's birthday comes next day +to hers. Now sometimes when there's a party some of the biggest of our +fellows get invited, because there are not very many young gentlemen in +town, and they are glad to take some from the school. But we two never +have yet. But Dorry thinks we stand a better chance now, for we've been +to dancing-school,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> and will do to fill up sets with. Maud Grey didn't +go as a scholar, but she went spectator sometimes, and took my partner's +place once, when her string of beads broke. Dorry was in the same set. I +never polkaed better in my life, for she took me round and made me keep +time whether I wanted to or not, but I told Dorry I felt just like a +little boy that had been lifted over a puddle. He's afraid she won't +remember us, but I guess I'm afraid she will, and then won't invite such +a bad dancer. We two thought we'd walk by the house, just for fun, and +make ourselves look tall. So we held up our chins, and swung two little +canes we'd cut, going along, for small chaps are plenty enough, but +young gentlemen go off to college, or stores, soon's they're of any +size. The blinds were all shut up, but Dorry said there was hope if the +slats were turned the right way. Blind slats here move all ways. +Yesterday, in school-time, I saw a colored man coming towards the +school-house, and thought 't was Cicero, the one that works for Colonel +Grey, coming with the invitations, and made a loud "hem!" for Dorry to +look up, and a hiss, to mean Cicero, and pointed out doors. 't wasn't +very loud, but that one we call Brown Bread, that has eyes in the back +of his head, and ears all over him, and smells rat where there isn't +any, and wears slippers, so you can't hear him, even if 'tis still +enough to drop a pin,—I thought he was over the other side of the room, +tending to his own affairs, but all of a sudden he was standing just +back of me, and I had to lose a recess just for that. And 't wasn't +Cicero after all, but the one that comes after the leavings.—(Somebody +knocks.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Afternoon.</i>—Hurrah! We're going! The one that knocked at the door was +Spicey, with our invitations. When I come home I'll bring them home to +show. They came through the post-office. We expect they all came to the +professor, with orders to pick out the ten tallest ones, for they are +directed in his writing. I never went to such a party, and shouldn't +know how to behave, if 't wasn't for Dorry. First thing you do is to go +up and speak to the lady of the house and the lady of the party. I mean +after you've been up stairs, and looked in the looking-glass and +smoothed down your hair. Mine always comes up again. I've tried water +and I've tried oil, and I've tried beef-marrow, but 't is bound to come +up. Dorry says I ought to put it in a net. Don't you remember that time +I had my head shaved off close, and how it looked like an orange? I'm +glad 't isn't so red as it was. 'T is considerable dark now. When you +come down you walk up to the lady of the house and say "How do you do?" +and shake hands, and when you go home you have to bid her good-night, +and say you've had a very pleasant time, and shake hands again. Not +shove out your fist, as if you were shoving a croquet-ball, but slow, +with the fingers about straight, and not speak it out blunt, as if you +were singing out "good-night!" to the fellers, but quite softly and +smiling. Dorry's been showing me beforehand. Bubby Short stood up in the +floor, and had the bedspread tied round him with a cod-line, for a +trail, and shavings for curls. He was the lady of the house and we +walked up to him, and said, "How do you do, Mrs. Grey?" and so forth. +Dorry drew this picture of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> us. He draws better than I do. I will write +about the party.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 431px;"> +<img src="images/p225.jpg" width="431" height="336" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="sig"> +From your Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to his Grandmother.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Grandmother,</span>—</p> + +<p>Now if you will be a good little grandmother, and promise never to worry +any more, then I'll tell you about that party. We had to wear white +gloves. I'll begin at the outside. The piazzas had colored lights +hanging round them, and there were colored lights hung in the trees and +the gateways. 'T was a foggy night, and those colored lights lighted up +the fog all around, so when you came towards the place it looked just +like a great bright spot in the midst of darkness. There was a tall +lady, standing in the middle of the room, with a splendid dress on, +dragging way behind her, and I went right up to her, and just got my +foot the way Mr. Tornero told us, and the palm of my hand right, when +Dorry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> jerked me back by my jacket and said she wasn't the right one. +You see we got belated, going back after our clean pocket-handkerchiefs, +and hurried so that Dorry fell down and muddied his trousers' knees, but +lucky 't was close to the Two Betseys' shop, for we went in there and +got sponged up, but we had to wait for 'em to dry. Lame Betsey said she +used to take care of Maud Grey when she was a little scrap, and she +wanted to make her a birthday present. So they both hunted round, to see +if they had anything. In the desk they found a little thin book, a +funny-looking old blue-covered book, "Advice to a Young Lady," that was +given to Lame Betsey when she was young. The title was on the blue +cover. 'T was a funny-looking thing and it smelt snuffy. She asked me to +give it to Maud, after she'd written her name in it. I tell you now Lame +Betsey makes quite good letters! I didn't want to take the book, but I +did, for both Betseys are clever women.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p226.jpg" width="448" height="241" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>All this was the reason we got belated, and Mrs. Grey had got mixed up +with the other people, but we found her and did the right thing by her. +And Maud too. I don't think any of you would believe that I could +behave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> so well! so polite I mean. Course I didn't feel bashful any! O +no!</p> + +<p>They had four pieces, and they played as if they knew how. I didn't +dance at the first of it. Didn't dare to. 'T was too light there. The +carpets were covered with white. Then chandeliers, and lamps, and wax +candles, and flowers everywhere they could be, set up in vases,—one +lady called vases, varzes,—and hanging-baskets. I never was in such a +beautiful place. The ladies sang at the piano, and the young gentlemen +turned their leaves over. O you ought to 've heard 'em when the tunes +went up, up, up! Enough to make you catch your breath! Seemed as if it +could never get down again. I don't like that kind. But Dorry said 'twas +opera style and nobody was to blame but me, if I didn't like it. Now +John Brown's Body, I like that, and when they all sang that, I joined +right in, same as any of them. For I knew I knew that tune. But first +one looked round at me, and then another looked round at me, as if +something was the matter. I thought I saw 'em smiling. Then I kept +still. But I didn't know I was singing wrong. O, I do wish I knew what +this singing is! Seems easy enough. Now when the tune goes up loud, I go +up loud, and when that goes down low, I go down low. But Dorry says it +isn't singing. Says 'tis discord. But I can't tell discord from any +other cord, and he says the harder I try, the worse noise I make. I do +wish I could roar out that Glory Hallelujah! for I feel the tune inside +of me, but it never comes out right. Dorry laughs when I set out to +sing. He says I chase the tune up and down all the way through,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> and +never hit it! Now, if 't is right inside, why can't it come out right? I +don't see!</p> + +<p>We went into a large room to eat refreshments, and I wish Aunt Phebe +could see the things we had. And taste of them too. I saved the frosting +off my cake for Tommy. 'T is wrapped up in a paper in my trunk. 'T is +different from your frosting, good deal harder. I had a sort of funny +time in that room. Somebody had to hit my elbow when I was passing +custard to a girl, and joggled over a mess of it on to her white dress +and my trousers. I whipped out my pocket-handkerchief to sop it up, and +whipped out that little blue book. Somebody picked it up, and one young +man, that had been cutting up all the evening, Maud Grey's cousin, he +got hold of it and read her name and called out to her to come get her +present, and made a good deal of fun about it, and began to read it +loud. She wanted to know who brought it, and somebody told her I was the +one. I began to grow red as fire, but all of a sudden I thought, Now, +Billy, what's the use? So I said very plain, "Miss Grey, Lame Betsey +sent you that book." She didn't laugh very much, only smiled and asked +me to tell Lame Betsey she was glad that she remembered her. Guess she +thought I looked bashful, for afterwards she asked me if I wouldn't try +a polka with her. I don't think she's very proud, for when I was looking +at a painted vase, she came and told me how it was done, for all I +wasn't much acquainted with her. She talked to me as easy and sociable +as if she'd been Lucy Maria.</p> + +<p>A company of us got together in one of the rooms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> and ate our ice-creams +there, and while we were eating them, we beheaded words. Lucy Maria must +read this letter, for she'll want to know how. When you behead a word +you take off the first letter. It's fun, when you get beheading them +fast. The spelling mustn't be changed. Dorry made some of these. I +didn't. I couldn't think fast enough.</p> + +<p>Behead an article of dress, and you leave a farming tool.</p> + +<p>Shoe—hoe.</p> + +<p>I'll put the rest of the answers at the bottom, so as to give all of you +a chance to guess what they are.</p> + +<p>1. Behead what leads men to fight, and you leave the cause of much +misery, sin, and death.</p> + +<p>2. Behead what young ladies are said to be fond of, and you leave a +young lady.</p> + +<p>3. Behead what comes nearest the hand, and you leave what comes nearest +the heart.</p> + +<p>4. Behead something sweet, and it leaves an address to the sweet.</p> + +<p>5. Behead part of a coach, and you leave part of yourself. Behead that, +and you leave a fish.</p> + +<p>6. Behead a rogue, and you leave a musician.</p> + +<p>7. Behead an old-fashioned occupation, and you leave what prevents many +a parting.</p> + +<p>8. Behead a part of ladies' apparel, and you leave what is higher than +the king.</p> + +<p>9. Behead what always comes hard, and you leave what makes things go +easy.</p> + +<p>10. Behead a weapon, and you leave a fruit. Behead that, and you leave +part of the body.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Drum, rum.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">2. Glass, lass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">3. Glove, love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">4. Molasses, O Lasses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">5. Wheel, heel, eel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">6. Sharper, harper.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">7. Spin, pin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">8. Lace, ace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">9. Toil, oil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">10. Spear, pear, ear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Sometimes they make them in rhyme.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behead what is born in the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And lives but a moment or so,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For it can't live long you know,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you leave what all admire.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where grass so green doth grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And trees in many a row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behead this last, and you leave in its place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What once preserved the human race.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Spark, park, ark.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behead a musical term so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you leave what runs without any feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behead again, and, sad to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You leave what is sick and never gets well.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To what is left add the letter D,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And you have a lawyer of high degree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Trill, rill, ill, "LL D."</p> + +<p>I've got something a good deal funnier to tell, but I'm going to write +all about that in Lucy Maria's letter. I guess she'll be very glad when +she gets that letter, for 'twill tell her how to do something very +funny. I will send her the story of it too, so she won't have to make up +anything herself. Don't you think I had a pretty good time? I hope my +sister is well, and hope you all are. Lucy Maria must read this letter. +She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> could make those beheadings quicker'n lightning. I am well. Don't +believe I shall ever be sick.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +From your affectionate Grandson,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. I've been to a lecture on good health. The man said there were two +parts to the air, a good part and a poison part, and every time we +breathe we keep in the good part, and breathe out the poison part. So if +a room were sealed up, air-tight, a man living in it would soon die, for +he would use up all the good part and leave the poison part. So we ought +to always let fresh air in, that hasn't been breathed. He says in a +crowded room, if there is no fresh air coming in, we have to use over +what other folks have breathed, whether they are sick or well.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +W. H.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>What with our young friend's frequent visits to the Two Betseys, his +attendance at the dancing-school, and going to parties and to lectures, +it would seem as though his time was not wholly taken up with his +studies. Among William Henry's letters to Lucy Maria I find the +following one about the Dwarf, and with it, in Lucy Maria's handwriting, +I find a copy of the Narrative alluded to.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry to Lucy Maria.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Cousin,</span>—</p> + +<p>I guess you will want to know how this was done, that I'm going to write +about, so I will tell you about it, then you will know how to make one +out of Tommy, but I guess a bigger boy would be better. It doesn't make +much difference about the size, if he can keep a sober<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> face while +somebody tells a story about him, and do the things he's told to. I +couldn't guess how 't was done till Bubby Short told me. Bubby Short was +the dwarf. He was invited on purpose, because he is up to all kinds of +fun, and can act dialogues, be an old man, or old woman, or anything you +want him to. I will tell you exactly how 't was done, so you will know. +And I will send you the Narrative to copy. But you can't keep it very +long. It was given to Bubby Short. The showman was Maud Grey's cousin. +He was dressed in a turban, with long robes, and he had black rings made +round his eyes, and his face was tatooed with a lead-pencil. Course he +made up the story and made the pictures to it too. But he pretended he +got them in the dwarf's country, that was named "Empskutia." I thought +maybe you'd like to read it, then if you made one you could think of +something to say. 'T was only meant for the little ones, he said, but we +all liked to hear it. No matter if it was nonsense, we didn't care. Now, +I'll begin.</p> + +<p>First, they had a table, with a long table-cloth on it that touched the +floor. It must touch the floor, so as to hide the <i>real</i> feet of the one +that's going to be the dwarf. When Bubby Short was all ready he sat down +to the table, same as if he'd been doing his examples or eating his +dinner,—sat facing the company and waited for the curtain to rise. +Course you have to have a curtain. The table-cloth covered the lower +part of him. His own hands and arms were turned into feet and legs for +the dwarf. I'll tell you how. The arms had little trousers on them, and +the hands were put into nice little button-boots,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> so they looked like +legs and feet. He was all stuffed out above his waist, and had on a +stiff shirt bosom, and breastpin, and necktie, and false whiskers, and a +wig made of black curled hair, and a tasselled cap, with a gilt band +round it. He crooked his arms at the elbows and laid them flat on the +table, with the button-boots towards the curtain, so when the curtain +went up it looked like a little dwarf sitting down, facing the company. +Now I must tell you where the dwarf's arms and hands came from. For you +know that Bubby Short's arms and hands were made into legs and feet for +the dwarf. Now to make arms, he had on a little coat, with the sleeves +of it stuffed out to look like arms, and then a stuffed pair of white +cotton gloves was sewed on to the sleeves, to look like hands, and these +gloves were pinned together by the fingers in front of his waist so as +to look like clasped hands.</p> + +<p>The showman asked him to do different things. Asked him to try to stand +up. Then Bubby Short began to get up, very slow, as if 't was tough work +to do it, and let his arms straighten themselves down, and looked just +as if there was a little short fellow standing on the table. I thought +like enough you'd like to know how, so as to make one some time, out of +Tommy or some bigger boy that knows how to whistle. The showman made his +dwarf whistle a funny tune, and told us 't was an air of his native +country. Then made him step out the tune with his little button-boots, +and it seemed just like a little dancing dwarf. The showman said that +was the national dance of his country. I guess Uncle Jacob would like to +see one. I guess his eyes would twinkle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the curtain went up you ought to 've heard the folks roar! Some of +them thought 't was real. When the company asked him if he could move +his arms, he shook his head, no. Then the showman said he could make him +do it, by whispering a charm in his ear. So he went close up and +whispered, and took out the pin that pinned the gloves, in a secret way, +and then the arms dropped apart. All the way he could move his arms was +by shaking his body, and then only a little. The showman said the +fearful accident that stopped his growth lost him the use of his arms, +though he could dance and whistle and make a bow [<i>here he made him make +a bow</i>], and could scratch his ear with his boot [<i>here he scratched his +ear with the button-boot-toe</i>], but his brain was strong as anybody's. +Then afterwards he told how much he knew. But you can read about it in +the Narrative. He made him crook his knees sideways. He could do this +easy enough, for 't was only the elbows bending outwards. Then he made +him sit down again. I don't believe any of you ever saw anything so +funny. The showman kept a very sober face all the time, and 'most made +us believe every word of his story was true, and at the end he spoke +very loud and acted it out, like an orator.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>P. S. Will you please send back the picture of that creature we sent you +once? We want to do something with it. I put in the Narrative some of +the things the audience did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>NARRATIVE.</h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear young Friends,</span>—</p> + +<p>Hyladdu Alizamrald, the unfortunate gentleman now before you, was born +in the country of Empskutia, on the borders of the great unknown region +of Phlezzogripotamia, which lies beyond the sources of the river +Phlezzra. He was the only child of a nobleman, whose wealth was +unbounded, and whose power was immense. The day of his birth was made a +day of rejoicing throughout the city. Not only were fountains of wine +set flowing, that none might go athirst (for the Empskutians are driest +when they're happiest), but living fountains of milk also, that every +child might, on that happy day, drink its fill of the pure infantine +fluid. It is perhaps needless to remark that these last were cows, +driven in from the surrounding plains.</p> + +<p>Hyladdu was an infant of great promise, and bade fair to become the +pride of his native land, instead of being—of being—pardon my emotion. +[<i>Showman puts handkerchief to his eyes. Hyladdu wipes away a tear with +his boot-toe.</i>] Yes, gentlemen and ladies [<i>calmer</i>], at his birth there +seemed to be no reason why Hyladdu's head should not rise as far towards +the clouds as will yours, my smiling young friends before me. Briefly, +he was not born a dwarf. Shall I relate how this sweet flower of promise +was nipped in the bud? [<i>The audience cry, "Yes! yes!" Hyladdu takes his +handkerchief in both boots and wipes his eyes.</i>]</p> + +<p>Listen, then. When Hyladdu had reached the age of eighty-one +days—eighty-one being the third multiple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> of three—his parents, +according to the custom of the country, summoned to the cradle of the +young child a Thulsk.</p> + +<p>The Thulski are a tall, mysterious race of prophets, known only in +Empskutia, who attain to an unknown age. Many of them cannot even +remember their own boyhood. These prophets are reverenced by all the +people. As year after year is added to their life, they grow thin, dark, +and shrivelled, like mummies. The skin is dry and hangs loose about the +bones. The hair is long and white, and every year adds to its length and +its whiteness, while the eyes seem blacker and more piercing. They wear +very high black caps, square, and carry in the hand a peculiar flower, a +snow-white flower, having five petals, which grows in secret places, and +which, even if found, no other person ever dare to pluck, lest its +peculiar smell should work a charm upon them. None but the Thulski +themselves know when and where the Thulski die. If they have graves they +are unknown graves, though it is a common belief in the country that the +mysterious white-petalled flower blooms only in their burial-places. +During life they live apart from all others, seldom speaking, even when +mingled in the busy crowd.</p> + +<p>The order of the Thulski is kept up in this way. Their chief, clad in +long dark robes, wanders silently the streets, and when, among the +children at play, he discovers one who has some peculiar mark about +him,—the nature of this mark is unknown,—he beckons, and the child +follows him. Must follow him. For that silent beckoning joins him to +their order. He is from that moment a Thulsk, and has no wish to +escape.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, although to be a Thulsk is to be certain of long life, yet no +mother desires this fate for her child, but, on the contrary, children +are warned against them, and have among themselves a secret sign, a +rapid motion of the fingers, which means "scatter!" And if, when they +are at play, the white-haired prophet is seen, though even at a great +distance, this sign is rapidly made, and the little flock disappears so +instantly, one would suppose the earth had swallowed them. You will see, +before my melancholy story is finished, what all this has to do with +Hyladdu's misfortune.</p> + +<p>As I was saying, when he had attained the age of eighty-one +days,—eighty-one being the third multiple of three,—his parents, +according to the custom of the Empskutians, summoned one of these +prophets to the cradle of their child, that his fortunes might be +foretold.</p> + +<p>The weird, shrivelled old Thulsk, with his flowing white hair, wrapped +his dark robes about him, and sat silently at the low cradle, gazing +upon the sleeping child. At length he arose, with a look of sorrow, and +would have departed without uttering a single word.</p> + +<p>"Speak! speak!" cried the father.</p> + +<p>"Ah, do not speak!" murmured the mother; for she perceived that the +prophet foresaw evil. "Yet speak, yes, speak!" she cried. "Let us know +the worst, that we may prepare ourselves."</p> + +<p>The prophet then made a reply, of which these five words are a +translation:—</p> + +<p>"Sorrow cometh sufficiently soon. Wait!"</p> + +<p>But, on being very earnestly entreated, he disclosed that before the +beautiful infant attained his sixth year—six<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> being the double of +three—he would sustain injuries from a fall, by which either his mind +or his body would be blighted. Which, it was not given him to say. He +added that it grieved him to still further disclose that he himself +would be in some way connected with the child's misfortune, though in +what way even his prophetic vision could not foresee.</p> + +<p>Now it may readily be supposed that the parents spared no pains to ward +off from their child this unknown danger. The upper windows were +immediately fastened down, fresh air being secured by means of hinges on +each square of glass. As soon as he could walk sentinels were placed at +every flight of stairs, and to keep him out of the cellar, a neighboring +wine-merchant was invited to store his goods there, so that wine-butts +took up every inch of room, from floor to ceiling. Ladders and movable +steps he was not allowed the sight of, and as it seems as natural for +boys to climb trees as to breathe the air around them, every tree in the +grounds was protected by sharp iron teeth.</p> + +<p>The longing which every boy has to climb is called the climbing +instinct. In Hyladdu the climbing instinct was nipped in the +bud,—smothered, crushed, kept under. He was forbidden to swing on +gates, taught to avoid fence-posts, lamp-posts, and flag-staffs, and to +look upon hills as summits of danger. Of shinning, he knew but the name. +And that the very idea of climbing might be kept from his mind, all +climbing plants were rooted out from the grounds; not even a +morning-glory was allowed to run up a string! By these means the anxious +parents hoped to prevent what the Thulsk had foretold, from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> coming to +pass. "For," said they, "if he never goes up, he can never fall down." +But mark now how all these precautions were the very means of making the +prophecy prove true. For, had he only been taught to climb, and had been +accustomed to high places, that sad accident might not have taken place +and the blighted individual before you might now have been one of the +flowers of his country! [<i>Emotion.</i>] Pardon me, friends. Tears come +unbidden. [<i>Showman holds handkerchief to his eyes. Dwarf ditto, with +boots.</i>]</p> + +<p>Imagine now the dear child, grown a beautiful boy of five summers,—a +boy of beaming blue eyes, and a rosy cheek! of flaxen curls and a +graceful motion! The idol of his parents, the joy of his friends! Sweet +in disposition, of tender feelings, quick to learn, truthful, +affectionate, gentle in his manners, winning in his ways, no wonder that +he was so well beloved!</p> + +<p>It was only one short week before his sixth birthday, and his friends +were trembling with joy, that the fatal time had so nearly passed, when +the calamity which had so long hung over him like a cloud descended upon +him like a thunderbolt! In other words, he lacked but a week of six, and +all were rejoicing that the danger was nearly passed, when the event +happened.</p> + +<p>Hyladdu, being, like most boys, of a playful turn of mind, was sometimes +permitted to join in the games of other children, in front of his +father's mansion, attended always by a faithful servant. On this +particular day they were amusing themselves by playing with some +silver-coated marbles, a box of which had been presented to Hyladdu by +his grandmother, who was one of the court ladies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>A very pretty group they were. The children of that country, like their +fathers, were dressed in long white robes, with bright sashes. On their +heads they wore caps of blue or scarlet, which turned up with points +before, behind, and at each side. On each point a little silver bell was +hung, that the servants might have less difficulty in following them +about. Their shoes were pointed at the toes.</p> + +<p>Among those silver marbles was an "alley" of great beauty, glistening +with rubies, and inlaid with pearl. This alley never was played for in +earnest. [<i>Here the dwarf beckons to the showman, and whispers in his +ear.</i>] He informs me that the laws forbade playing in earnest. I will +now finish as rapidly as possible.</p> + +<p>In the course of the game, this precious "alley" rolled a long distance, +until it came to a brick in the pavement, which was set slanting, or had +become so by a sinking of the ground underneath. This brick gave the +"alley" a turn sideways to the left, and it rolled at last through a +crack in the garden fence, and hid itself in the grass. The servant, in +great haste, darted through the gate in search of it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, slowly down the street, though at a distance, a Thulsk was +approaching. It was the same who had nearly six years before sat by +Hyladdu's cradle. He walked silently on, his eyes cast down, his hands +clasped, holding between them the five-petalled flower. One of the boys, +perceiving him, made the sign of warning. Instantly they scattered, like +a flock of pigeons, leaving their little silver-belled caps on the +ground. Hyladdu, seeing the cellar open, would have hidden himself +there, but no space was left between the wine-butts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> A much larger boy +seized his hand and pulled him into a strange house, and then, in his +fright, dragged him through long passage-ways, and up seven flights of +stairs; for the Empskutians build their houses to an immense height. +Here they sat down to breathe awhile, and Hyladdu begged the boy to go +for the faithful servant, that he might lead him home.</p> + +<p>Now no sooner was the boy gone than Hyladdu began to look about him, and +presently he discovered a slender staircase going still higher. Having +climbed seven flights with help, he felt no fear in attempting the +eighth alone. This slender staircase conducted him to the roof of the +building. [<i>Emotion and handkerchief.</i>] Excuse my emotion. But when I +think what might have happened, if something else had not happened to +prevent, when I think that he might have fallen from that immense +height, to be dashed in pieces beneath, I—I—But I will let my story +take its course.</p> + +<p>And now let me tell you that the people of Empskutia were very fond of +the beautiful. The streets were adorned with ornamental trees, and over +the roofs of the houses were trained flowering vines, which ran to the +highest peak of cupola or chimney, and, blooming sweetly there, filled +the whole air with fragrance. It was the custom of the people to place +stout iron hooks along the eaves of their dwellings, from which were +suspended immense flower-pots of various beautiful designs. In these +pots the flowering vines took root and from thence not only climbed the +roof, but trailed gracefully down, thus giving the city a festive +appearance, like a never-ending gala-day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Hyladdu looked out from the top of that last eighth flight, the +long-smothered instinct of climbing burst out like a hidden fire. It +would not be restrained. Ah, now will be seen the folly of crushing that +instinct. Had he only have been accustomed to dizzy heights, made +familiar with danger, how different might have been his fate! +[<i>Emotion.</i>]</p> + +<p>The instinct of climbing, as I said, was now strong upon him! No sooner +did he perceive that there was still a height to gain than he resolved +to gain that height. Nothing less would satisfy him than sitting astride +the ridgepole, where a pair of bright-feathered birds had built their +nest, and were then feeding their young. He ventured out, made his way +cautiously up, holding on by the vines. Ah, could his parents have seen +him then!</p> + +<p>He arrived at the top, and there, seated on that lofty pinnacle, +surrounded by beautiful flowers, he gazed on the scene below, and +enjoyed a new happiness. For the first time in his life he looked down +from a height! for the first time in his life he gazed abroad over a +wide extended country!</p> + +<p>Such pleasure he had never known, and the faithful servant, anxiously +searching, might have found him there, still enjoying it, but for a +pretty little bluebird, that flew suddenly down and startled him, while +he was gazing at some object far away. This little bird came flying +through the air, and alighted for an instant on the child's head, +thinking perhaps to make its nest in the soft curls, or it might have +thought his rosy lips were cherries. The suddenness with which it came +startled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> Hyladdu. He trembled, he lost his hold, slipped, then caught +by a vine, it gave way, he slipped again, but, having no skill in +climbing, slipped lower and lower, and would have fallen from the roof +and been dashed in pieces, but for that custom which was mentioned just +now, of suspending large flower-pots from the eaves. It happened that +his course lay directly towards one of these iron hooks. He dropped, +therefore, into the immense flower-pot beneath, where he lay as secure +as a babe in its cradle!</p> + +<p>From this frightful position he was at length rescued by one of the hook +and ladder company of that city, and placed in his mother's arms. His +own arms were nearly paralyzed by his frantic efforts to cling to some +support, so that ever afterwards he could move them but very slightly, +as you perceive. [<i>Dwarf moves his arms slightly, by shaking his body.</i>] +And though the child's life was spared, yet the terrible fright had the +effect of stopping his growth! Yes, my young friends, Hyladdu never grew +more, except in wisdom! The innocent cause of all this, the poor +sorrowing grandmother, died of remorse!</p> + +<p>And now my story becomes a more pleasing one to tell. Although the +child's body remained dwarfed in size, yet his heart grew in goodness, +and his mind grew in knowledge, and he was beloved and respected by all. +Debarred earthly mountains, he mounted the heights of learning. The +climbing instinct, which his body could not satisfy, was developed in +his mind. He craved books, he craved whole libraries. Teacher after +teacher came, all exhausting upon him their treasures of knowledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +Music and drawing, studied scientifically, were his amusements. He +mastered astronomy, mineralogy, algebra, conchology, trigonometry, +physiology, engineering, metaphysics, technology, geology, phrenology, +also foreign languages unnumbered, with all the literature belonging to +each. [<i>Sensation in the audience.</i>] And when at last the storehouses of +wisdom seemed exhausted, a report reached him of a great country beyond +the seas, called the United States of America, in whose excellent +schools there remains something yet to learn! [<i>Applause from the +audience.</i>]</p> + +<p>He studied the written language of that country, read its history, and +resolved to seek its shores. For he longed to behold the land of the +Revolutionary War; to read the Declaration of Independence, and to stand +upon the grave of Old John Brown! [<i>Applause.</i>]</p> + +<p>He had heard of Bunker's Hill. Travellers said that upon whomsoever +rested the shadow of its monument, that person possessed forever after +the unflinching bravery of those who bled and perished there! +[<i>Cheers.</i>] He had heard of Plymouth Rock [<i>Cheers</i>], and been told that +his foot once planted firmly upon it, he would feel springing up within +him all the heroism, the self-sacrifice, and the everlasting +perseverance of the glorious Pilgrim Fathers! [<i>Prolonged cheering.</i>]</p> + +<p>I have now, my young friends, told you, very briefly, the history of +this remarkable character. His age is thirty-four years. He is of a +cheerful disposition, having long ago resolved to look his misfortune +steadily in the face and make the best of it. In books, where are +treasures stored up by the scholars of all past time, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> finds a +never-ending pleasure. Though dwarfed in stature, he is resolved to make +a man of himself, and will fight it out on that line if it takes all +summer. For he early adopted for his motto, these beautiful lines of Dr. +Watts,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Were I so tall as to reach the pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or grasp the ocean in my span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be measured by my soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mind's the standard of the man."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>[<i>Applause.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(<i>Curtain falls.</i>)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I once heard the above narrative repeated by Joe in a truly theatrical +manner. On the same occasion I also saw the picture of the "creature" to +which William Henry refers in his postscript to the Dwarf Letter.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob hailed me one day as I was coming from my office, and after +driving close to the curbstone, informed me that Cousin Joe and his +accordion had arrived, both in good health and spirits. Also, that +Billy's school had met with a very sudden vacation, caused either by +flues, or furnaces, or both, having something the matter with them, and +the young rascal would be at home that evening, and I must come without +fail. "Of course you know," said he, "'tis a pretty hard thing for Billy +having to give up his studies, so he's coming home to his friends. +Nothing like being among friends when you're in trouble?"</p> + +<p>Now this was by no means a remarkable event. Only a boy coming home for +a few days to see his folks. Still, an occasion which worked Grandmother +up to the pitch of putting on her best cap should not be passed over in +silence.</p> + +<p>I went out to the Farm that evening, and on arriving found Cousin Joe, +and the accordion, and Aunt Phebe's family, with a few relatives whom I +had never met before, all assembled at Grandmother's. They had made up a +fire in the "Franklin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> fireplace." This "Franklin fireplace" was a sort +of iron framework, projecting from the chimney into the room. The top +was flat, with brass balls on the corners. It had iron sides, which +"flared out," and a rounded iron hearth of its own, about an inch above +the brick hearth, and shining brass andirons.</p> + +<p>No one could wish for a brighter room, I thought, for there was the +light from the fire, the light from the "lights," and the light from all +those smiling faces! An inviting supper-table was set out, covered +dishes were "keeping warm" on the hearth and "frame," and everything was +ready and waiting for William Henry. Mr. Carver had gone to the station, +and they were expected back every moment.</p> + +<p>Georgiana was very busy over a skein of blue sewing-silk. She informed +me that that was the first whole skein of sewing-silk she ever had in +all her life, and that it came from a bundle of all colors, which Cousin +Joe gave to Hannah Jane. It brought trouble with it, as it is said all +earthly possessions do, and snarled at all her attempts to coax it on to +a spool. Tommy, sober as a judge, was holding it for her to wind. He sat +in a little chair, with his legs crossed. His mother said he was very +particular to cross his legs, so as to seem more like a man.</p> + +<p>Lucy Maria had just persuaded Grandmother to put on her best, double +stringed, white-ribboned cap, in honor of William Henry. It was the very +one he brought her so long ago, but was still as good as new, having +very seldom seen the light of day, or of evening, since it first came +home in the bandbox. She had also been coaxed into her second-best +dress, and then into the rocking-chair. Lucy Maria tied her cap under +the chin, with the narrow strings, and smoothed down the wide ones.</p> + +<p>"You have no idea, Grandmother," said she. "You haven't the faintest +idea how well you look!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'T is too dressy for me," said Grandmother. "It don't feel natural on +my head."</p> + +<p>"Now I should think," said Uncle Jacob, "that a cap would feel more +natural on anybody's head than anywhere!"</p> + +<p>"It looks natural," said Lucy Maria, "I'm sure it does. Looks as if it +grew there!"</p> + +<p>"And only think how 't will please Billy!" said Aunt. Phebe.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/p247.jpg" width="448" height="247" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The "<i>Map of the United States</i>" had been brought out of the front room, +and placed over the mantel-piece. And Lucy Maria, for fun, she said, and +to pay a delicate compliment to the artist, had fastened a few sprays of +upland cranberry around it. And, also, for fun, she pinned up near it a +little picture, which I had quite a laugh over, and which, she said, was +the renowned Megotharium, in the act of feeding drawn by the famous +artist, William Henry, assisted by his brother artist, Dorry. The +picture, she added, was not an <i>original</i>, but merely a copy done by a +female. A photograph of these two artists, sitting side by side, was +exhibited, underneath the picture.</p> + +<p>Cousin Joe said that <i>creature</i> beat all his going to sea. This young +tailor, by the way, must have made a jolly shipmate. He was full of his +jokes and his tricks. Tried to twirl Tommy round, by rubbing him between +his two hands,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> as one does a top, telling him that was the way the +Hottentots did to take the mischief out of boys!</p> + +<p>Aunt Phebe said she thought if the Hottentots knew any way of taking the +mischief out of boys, and were out of work, they might find employment +in this country.</p> + +<p>Tommy begged to play "one tune," and was allowed to. Cousin Joe declared +that "that accordion was played every wave of the way across the +Atlantic," either by himself or by one of the sailors, and that +sometimes the mermaids sang to its music! Asked Tommy if he would like +to bear the tune the mermaids sang? Tommy said he should rather wait +till after supper. This was the way in which, company being present, the +young chap let it be known that he was hungry.</p> + +<p>Grandmother wondered, then, why they didn't come, and went to look out +of the window, putting up both hands, to keep the light of the room from +her eyes; then opened the outside door, to listen for the whistle; then +went to look at the kitchen clock; then came back, saying it was a good +deal past the time, and what could be the matter?</p> + +<p>She little knew who was behind, following her on tiptoe into the room. +William Henry himself! He was creeping in at the sink room door, just as +she turned to come back from looking at the clock, and followed softly +behind. She didn't notice how very smiling we all looked. Billy shook +his finger at us, to hush us.</p> + +<p>"I hope there hasn't anything happened to the cars," said she.</p> + +<p>"I hope so too!" shouted Billy. And, by a miraculous jump, he planted +himself, square foot, in front of his grandmother, who, of course, +walked straight into his arms!</p> + +<p>Then everybody shouted, and clapped, and shook hands, and kissed. The +cap got twisted about, and as if there were not confusion enough, Cousin +Joe began to caper about, and to play on his accordion tunes that were +never played before!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such a splendid fellow as Billy was! Such a hearty, laughing, breezy +fellow, with his thick head of hair, "not so red as it was," and his +honest, good-natured face! I didn't wonder they were all so glad to see +him.</p> + +<p>"Welcome home, shipmate!" shouted Cousin Joe. "Welcome home! How long'll +you be in port?" And worked away at Billy's hand as if he'd been pumping +out ship.</p> + +<p>"'Most a week," said Billy. "Mind my forefinger."</p> + +<p>"Don't take long to stay at home a week," said Cousin Joe, tossing up +his accordion.</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Uncle Jacob. "Come, let's be doing something!"</p> + +<p>"That means, let's be eating something," said Aunt Phebe. "Come, girls, +put everything on the table! Billy, how tall and spruce you do look! +Poor Grandmother, she's losing her little Billy!"</p> + +<p>"But what's her loss is his gain!" said Uncle Jacob. "I speak to sit +next the frosted cake. Where's Tommy?"</p> + +<p>Tommy came in, tugging Billy's carpet-bag, which he found in the +kitchen, hoping, no doubt, there were goodies inside for him.</p> + +<p>We had a delightful "supper-time," Grandmother, of course, piling +Billy's plate with everything good.</p> + +<p>"I see," said Mr. Carver, "that whatever boys eat at home grandmothers +expect will agree with them!"</p> + +<p>The happy "young rascal" meanwhile bore the separation from his studies +with amazing fortitude! Told no end of funny stories about the boys, and +about parties, and about the Two Betseys. And twice, during supper, he +exclaimed, "I do hope nothing has happened to those cars. They were such +good cars!"</p> + +<p>My visits to the farm were always delightful, but during that +supper-time, and during that evening, I grudged every moment as it flew +away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob was in high glee, and insisted on being taught "the graces," +and on having his wife taught "the graces." Then Lucy Maria "set her +foot down" that every one should stand in the row, and Billy should be +Mr. Tornero. And, being a girl of resolution, she coaxed every one into +line, except Grandmother, who said her rheumatism should do her some +service then, if never before.</p> + +<p>"The graces" were then taught, and learned, amid shouts of laughter, +Cousin Joe playing for us, and I'll venture to say that had Mr. Tornero +been present, he would have been astonished at our steps, and also at +the music!</p> + +<p>Afterwards we had the dwarf shown off, Cousin Joe being the showman. He +declared after looking over the "Narrative," that Empskutia was a place +well known to him, and that he had often sailed up the "river Phlezzra," +to trade with the natives. Lucy Maria dressed him in a large-figured red +and green bedspread, pinned on to look like a loose robe, with flowing +sleeves, and girded about the waist with cords and tassels taken from +Aunt Phebe's parlor curtains. He wore an immense lace collar, and a +turban made of a white muslin handkerchief (one that was Grandmother's +mother's) and besprinkled with artificial flowers. His face was tattooed +with a lead-pencil, and dark circles drawn around his eyes. He held in +his hand a slender rod, or wand.</p> + +<p>The dwarf was a young cousin of William Henry's (not Tommy), and he did +his part well, whistling, bowing, dancing, sneezing, rising, sitting, +with a perfectly sober face.</p> + +<p>The showman then read the "Narrative," adding thereto such ridiculous +incidents, and such comical remarks, that the audience were convulsed +with laughter, and the face of the dwarf twitched alarmingly. These +twitchings, he (the showman) said, were not unusual, and were the +effects of the sad occurrence then being narrated. The closing portions +of the story were declaimed in a powerful voice. He "acted out"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> the +"pole" and the "span," and at the third line, "I must be measured by my +<i>soul</i>," laid his hand upon his heart in the most impressive manner, and +remained in that position till the curtain fell.</p> + +<p>After this "John Brown" was sung, and William Henry was permitted to +roar out that "Glory Hallelujah" as loudly as he pleased.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The following letter must have been written some time after William +Henry met with the <i>affliction</i> which was so touchingly alluded to by +Uncle Jacob, as above related, and which that wretched youth felt could +only be endured in the bosom of his family! In the interval it appears +that he had been removed from the Crooked Pond School, and that Dorry +had left also, to finish preparing himself for college in some higher +seminary of learning.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<h4><i>William Henry's Letter after leaving School.</i></h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Dorry,</span>—</p> + +<p>I didn't know I was going to come away from school so soon after you +did, but there was a new High School begun in our town about a mile and +a half off, and my father thought I could learn there, and learn to farm +it some too. But I don't think much of farming it. Course 't is fun to +see things grow, after you've planted the seeds, and then watched 'em +all the way up. My grandmother says my father likes his corn so well, +that he pities it in a dry time, and when a gale blows it down he pities +it as much as if he'd been blown down himself. Weeds are enough to make +a feller mad, coming up fast as you kill 'em and sucking all the +goodness out of the ground that don't belong to them. Suppose they think +'t is as much theirs as anybody's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>I suppose you are studying away for college. I don't know whether I wish +I could go or not. I guess my head wouldn't hold all 't would have to be +put into it before I went, and in all that four years too! Now I want to +know if a feller can remember all that? I mean remember the beginning +after all the other has been piled top of it? I don't know what I shall +be yet. For there is something bad about everything, Grandmother says, +and I believe it. Now I don't want to be a farmer, because 't is hard +work and poor pay,—in these parts. I guess I should like to go to +Kansas. But there are the Indians after your scalp, and fever and ague, +and grasshoppers, and potato-bugs, and bean-bugs, and army-worms to eat +up everything, and droughts to dry up everything, and floods to wash it +away, and hurricanes to blow it down, and Uncle Jacob says if a man +comes through all these alive, with a few grains of corn, the man that +wants to buy 'em is a hundred miles off! But my father says, what is a +man good for that don't dare to go to sail without 't is on a mill-pond! +For smooth water can't make a sailor. And if a man is scared of lions, +how will he get through the woods. So I don't know yet what I shall be. +What should you, if you did n' go to college? Go into a store? I tell +you, Dorry, that if I was a dry-goods clerk, fenced in behind a counter, +I do believe I should ache to jump over and <i>put</i> for somewhere and go +to doing something. But my father says you can't always tell a man by +what his business is. For you've got to allow for head work. And because +he sells shoe-strings, 't is no sign he hasn't got anything in his head +but shoe-strings; and because a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> man drives nails, 't is no sign he +hasn't got anything but nails in his head. "Now suppose," says he, "that +a man sells dry goods all day, can't he have some thoughts stowed away +in his brains that he got out of books, or got up himself? And when he's +walking along home and back, and evenings, can't he out with 'em and be +thinking 'em over?" I s'pose 't isn't time for me to have thoughts yet, +s'pose they'll be dropping along in a year or two, "or three at the +most," as Lord Lovell said. One thing I mean to have, and that is a good +house with all the fixings, and money to spend, and money to give away +if I want to. So whatever I get started on, I mean to pitch in and shove +up my sleeves, and go at it. Father says I must be thinking the matter +over, and not make my mind up right off. They say going to sea is a +dog's life. I should like to go long enough to see what Spain looks +like, and China, and other places. Maybe I shall learn a trade. Now, for +instance, a carpenter's. That don't seem much of a trade. Mostly +pounding. But they say if you keep on, and are smart at it, why, you get +to taking houses, and then you are not a carpenter any longer, but a +"builder," and money comes in.</p> + +<p>I'm going to let her rest a spell. Though I'm so old I can't help +looking ahead some sometimes, to see where I'm coming out.</p> + +<p>Didn't you feel homesick any when you were coming away from school? I +did,—"quite some," as W. B. used to say. I went round to all the +places, and paddled in the pond, and lay down on the grass to take one +more drink out of the brook, and climbed up in the Elm, and ran up and +down our stairs much as half a dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> times, without stopping, for I +thought I never should again.</p> + +<p>I whittled a great sliver off the base-ball field fence to fetch away; +didn't we use to have good times there? Bubby Short gave me his +pocket-book, and I gave him mine. They had about equal, inside. I went +to bid Gapper good-by, day before I came off, and gave Rosy my little +penknife.</p> + +<p>Then I went to bid the two Betseys good-by, and they wiped their eyes, +and seemed about as if they'd been my grandmothers, and said I <i>must</i> +come to eat supper with them that afternoon. So I went. Me all alone! +Had a funny kind of a time. We sat at that round, three-legged stand, +and I'll tell you what we had. Bannock and butter, sausages, flapjacks, +and scalloped cakes. All set on in saucers, for there wasn't much room. +They had about supper enough for forty. For they said they knew their +appetites were nothing to judge a hungry boy by, and I must eat a good +deal and not go by them, and kept handing things to me, and every once +in a while they'd say, "Now don't be scared of it, there's more in the +buttery?" George! Dorry, I wish you could have seen that punkin-pie they +had! 'T was kept in a chair, a little ways off. I don't see what 't was +baked in. The Other Betsey said that was just such a kind of a pie as +her mother used to make. I out with my ruler, and asked if I might +measure it. 'T was about two feet across, and about four inches thick. +She said she thought 't was a good time to make one, when they were +going to have company. When I took my piece I had to hold my plate in my +hand, for there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> wasn't room on the stand. They wished you'd been there, +and so did I, and so would you, if you'd seen that pie. They didn't take +down their best dishes, that we had that other time, but called me one +of the family and used the poor ones. I had to look out about lifting up +the spoon-holder, because the bottom had been off, once, and mind which +sugar-bowl handle I took hold of, for one side it was glued on. But +everything held. I can't bear tea, but they said 't was very warming and +resting, and I'd better. I guess they put in about six spoonfuls of +sugar! They wanted to know all about you, and said you were a smart +fellow.</p> + +<p>They wanted me to take some little thing out of the store, to remember +them by. So I looked and looked to find something that didn't cost very +much, and at last I pitched upon a pocket-comb. The Other Betsey put on +her glasses and scratched a B. on it, and said it could stand for the +two of 'em. But I told her she better make two B.'s, for that would seem +more like the Two Betseys, and she did. Lame Betsey said one B. ought to +go lame, and the Other Betsey said she guessed they both would, for she +had poor eyesight, and her hand shook, and nothing but a darning-needle +to scratch with. If I do break the comb I shall keep the handle, for I +think the Two Betseys are tip-top. I wish they could come and see my +grandmother. Wouldn't the three of 'em have a good time!</p> + +<p>Send a feller a letter once in a while, can't ye? Say, now, you Dorry, +don't get too knowing to write to a feller?</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Your friend,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">William Henry.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>At this point the correspondence properly closes. As a faithful editor, +I have endeavored to let it tell its own story, but must frankly +acknowledge that at times, the pleasant memories recalled by these +Letters have tempted me, too far, perhaps, beyond editorial bounds. This +fault I freely confess, hoping to be as freely forgiven. Were it known +how much I have left unsaid, while longing to say it, I should receive +not only forgiveness but praise.</p> + +<p>In closing, I cannot do better than to add to the collection an extract +from a letter written to Mr. Carver by the Principal of the Crooked Pond +School.</p> + +<p>It seems that William Henry's new teacher proposed his taking up Latin, +and that Mr. Carver being somewhat undecided about the matter, wrote to +the Principal of the Crooked School, asking his opinion. The Principal's +reply, in as far as it discusses the Latin question, would scarcely be +in order here. But the closing portion will, I know, be read with +pleasure by all who have taken an interest in William Henry. He speaks +of him thus:—</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>.... Allow me, sir, in concluding, to congratulate you on the many good +qualities of your son. He is one of the boys that I feel sure of. We +regret exceedingly his leaving us, and I assure you that he carries with +him the best wishes of all here,—teachers, pupils, and townspeople. I +shall watch his course with deep interest. A boy of his manly bearing, +kind disposition, and high moral principle will surely win his way to +all hearts, as he has done to ours.</p> + +<p>With regard to his studies, though not, perhaps, a remarkably brilliant +scholar, he has, on the whole, done well. For the first few months, it +is true, we rather despaired of awakening an interest. He was too fond +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> play, too unwilling to come under our pretty strict discipline. +Observing how heartily he entered into all games, and that he excelled +in them, it occurred to us, that if the same ambition and pluck shown on +the playground could be aroused in the schoolroom, our object would be +gained. This, by various means, we have tried to accomplish, and I am +happy to add, with good success. Your son, sir, is a boy to be proud of.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +Very truly yours,<br /> +<br /> +—— ——<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>It so happened that I called at the Farm the very day on which this +reply was received, and just as Grandmother had finished reading it.</p> + +<p>As I entered the room she looked up, and without speaking handed me the +letter. Tears stood in her eyes, and I saw that something had touched +her deeply.</p> + +<p>"Any bad news?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, in a tremulous voice. "But to think of that +schoolmaster's finding out what was in that child!"</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 34335-h.txt or 34335-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/3/3/34335">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/3/3/34335</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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a/old/2010-11-15-34335.txt b/old/2010-11-15-34335.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a20b6a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2010-11-15-34335.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8152 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The William Henry Letters, by Abby Morton Diaz + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The William Henry Letters + + +Author: Abby Morton Diaz + + + +Release Date: November 15, 2010 [eBook #34335] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 34335-h.htm or 34335-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34335/34335-h/34335-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34335/34335-h.zip) + + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS. + +by + +MRS. A. M. DIAZ. + +With Illustrations. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston: +Fields, Osgood, & Co. +1870. + +Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1870, +by Fields, Osgood, & Co., +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + +University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., +Cambridge. + + + + +EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION. + + +MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS:-- + +Much to my surprise, I was asked one day if I would be willing to edit +the William Henry Letters for publication in a volume. + +At first it seemed impossible for me to do anything of the kind; "for," +said I, "how can any one edit who is not an editor? Besides, I am not +enough used to writing." It was then explained to me that my duties +would simply be to collect and arrange the Letters, and furnish any +little items concerning William Henry and his home which might interest +the reader. It was also hinted, in the mildest manner possible, that I +was not chosen for this office on account of my talents, or my learning, +or my skill in writing; but wholly because of my intimate acquaintance +with the two families at Summer Sweeting place,--for I have at times +lived close by them for weeks together, and have taken tea quite often +both at Grandmother's and at Aunt Phebe's. + + * * * * * + +After a brief consideration of the proposal, I agreed to undertake the +task; at the same time wishing a more experienced editor could have been +found. + +My acquaintance with the families commenced just about the time of +William Henry's going to school, and in rather a curious way. + +I was then (and am now) much interested in the Freedmen. While serving +in the Army of the Potomac, I had seen a good deal of them, and was +connected with a hospital in Washington at the time when they were +pouring into that city, hungry and sick, and half-naked. I belonged to +several Freedmen's Societies, and had just then pledged myself to beg a +barrelful of old clothing to send South. + +But this I found was, for an unmarried man, having few acquaintances in +the town, a very rash promise. I had no idea that one barrel could hold +so much. The pile of articles collected seemed to me immense. I wondered +what I should do with them all. But when packed away there was room left +for certainly a third as many more; and I had searched thoroughly the +few garrets in which right of search was allowed me. Even in those, I +could only glean after other barrel-fillers. A great many garrets +yielded up their treasures during the war; for "Old clo'! old clo'!" was +the cry then all over the North. + +Now, as I was sitting one afternoon by my barrel, wishing it were full, +it happened that I looked down into the street, and saw there my +_unknown friend_, waiting patiently in his empty cart. This _unknown +friend_ was a tall, high-shouldered man, who drove in, occasionally, +with vegetables. There were others who came in with vegetables also, and +oftener than he; but this one I had particularly noticed, partly because +of his bright, good-humored face, and partly because his horse had +always a flower, or a sprig of something green, stuck in the harness. + +At first I had only glanced at him now and then in the crowd. Then I +found myself watching for his blue cart, and next I began to wonder +where he came from, and what kind of people his folks were. He joked +with the grocery-men, threw apples at the little ragged street children, +and coaxed along his old horse in a sort of friendly way that was quite +amusing. And though I had never spoken a word to him, nor he to me, I +called him my unknown friend, for a sight of him always did me good. + +It was a bony old gray horse that he drove, with a long neck poking way +ahead; and the man was a farmer-like man, and wore farmer-like clothes; +but he had a pleasant, twinkling eye, and the horse, as I said before, +was seldom without a flower or bit of green stuck behind his ear or +somewhere else about the harness. + +And often, when the town was hot and dusty, and business people were +mean, I would say to myself, as my friend drove past on his way home, +How I should like to ride out with him, no matter where, if 't is only +where they have flowers and green things growing in the garden! + +On this particular afternoon, as I have said, I observed my friend +sitting quietly in his cart, "bound out," as the fishermen say,--sitting +becalmed, waiting for something ahead to get started. + +It happened that I was just then feeling very sensibly the heat and +confinement of the town, and was more than usually weary of business +ways and business people; actually pining for the balmy air of pine +woods and the breath of flowery fields. And perhaps, thought I, my +friend may live among warm-hearted country folk, who will be delighted +to give to my poor contrabands, and whose garrets no barrelman has yet +explored! + +So, giving a second look, and seeing that he still sat there, patiently +awaiting his turn, I ran down, without stopping to think more about it, +and asked if I might ride out with him. + +"O yes. Jump in! jump in!" said he, in the pleasantest manner possible; +then he offered me his cushion, and began to double up an empty bag for +himself. + +"No, no. Give me the bag," said I; and folding it, I laid it on the +board, just to take off the edge of the jolting a little. And my seat +seemed a charming one, after having been perched up on an office-stool +so long. + +That cushion of his took my eye at once. It looked as if it came out of +a rocking-chair. The covering was of black cloth, worked in a very +old-fashioned way, with pinks and tulips. The colors were faded, but it +had a homespun, comfortable, countrified look; in fact, the first glance +at that queer old cushion assured me that I was going to exactly the +right place. + +Presently we got started, and certainly I never had a better ride, nor +one with a pleasanter companion. He asked me all sorts of funny +questions about electricity, and oxygen, and flying-machines, and the +telegraph, and the moon and stars. + +"Now you are a learned man, I suppose," said he; "and I want you to tell +me how that golden-rod gets its yellow out of black ground." I said I +was not a learned man at all, and I didn't believe learned men +themselves could tell how it got its yellow, and the asters their +purple, and the succory its blue, and the everlasting its white, all out +of the same black ground. He said he was pretty sure his wife couldn't +boil up a kettleful and color either of those colors from them. + +So we went talking on. He asked me where I'd been stopping, and what I +did for a living. And I told him what I did for a living, and all about +soldier life, and the contrabands, and about my barrel. Our road led +through woods part of the way, and I drew in long breaths of woody air. +He told me a funny woodchuck story, and had a good deal to say about +wood-lots,--how some rich men formerly owned great tracts, but becoming +poor were forced to sell; and how, when pines were cut off, oaks grew up +in their place. And among other things he told me that a hardhack would +turn into a huckleberry-bush. I said that seemed like a miracle. He was +going on to tell me about one that he had watched, but just then we +turned into a pleasant, shady lane. + +We hadn't gone far down this shady lane before we heard a loud screaming +behind us, and looking round saw a small boy caught fast in the bushes +by the skirt of his frock. + +"Do you see that little boy?" I asked. + +"O yes, I see him," he said, laughing. "Hullo, Tommy! what you staying +there for?" + +The boy kept on crying. + +"What you waiting for?" he called out again, just as if he couldn't see +that the bushes would not let the child stir. + +We found out afterwards that little Tommy had hid there to jump out and +scare his father, but got caught by the briers. I went to untangle +him,--his clothes had several rents,--and was going to put him in the +cart; but he would get in "his own self," he said. Then he stopped +crying, and wanted to drive. His father said, "No, not till we get +through the bars." + +Then Tommy began again. And at last he said, half crying and half +talking, "When I'm--the--father, and you 'm--the--ittle Tommy--you +can't--drive--my--horse!" + +His father laughed and said: "Well, when I'm the little Tommy, I'll +brush the snarls off my face--so, and throw them under the wheels--so, +and let 'em get run over!" + +This made Tommy laugh, and very soon after we came to the bars. + +I looked ahead and saw a neat white house, not very large, with green +blinds and a piazza, where flowering plants were climbing. There was a +garden on one side and an orchard on the other. Just across the garden +stood an old, brown, unpainted house. There were tall apple-trees +growing near it, that looked about a hundred years old. My friend, Uncle +Jacob,--I've heard him called Uncle Jacob so much since that I really +don't know how to put a Mister to his name,--said those were Summer +Sweeting trees, that had pretty nigh done bearing. He said there used to +be Summer Sweeting trees growing all about there; and that when he took +part of the place, and built him a house, he cut down the ones on his +land, and set out Baldwins and Tallmans and Porters; but his mother +kept her's for the good they had done, and for the sake of what few +apples they did bear, to give away to the children. + +The houses had their backs towards me, and I was glad of that, for I +always like back doors better than front ones. + +Uncle Jacob whistled, and I saw a blind fly open, and a handkerchief +wave from an upper window, where two girls were sitting. Uncle Jacob's +wife stepped to the door and waved a sunbonnet, and then stepped back +again. + +"Here, Tommy," said Uncle Jacob, "you carry in the magazine to Lucy +Maria, and here's Matilda's gum-arabic. I don't see where Towser is." + +I jumped out, and said I guessed I would keep on; for I began to feel +bashful about seeing so many women-folks. + +"Where you going to keep on to?" Uncle Jacob asked. "This road don't go +any farther." + +I said I would walk across the fields to the next village and find a +hotel. + +"O no," said he, "stay here. Grandmother'll be glad enough to hear about +the contrabands. She'll knit stockings, and pick up a good deal about +the house to send off. And I want to ask much as five hundred questions +more about matters and things myself. Come, stay. Yes, we'll give you a +good supper, a first-rate supper. Don't be afraid. My wife'll--There! I +forgot her errand, now! But if you--Whoa! whoa! Georgiana, take this +pattern in to your Aunt Phebe, and tell her I forgot to see if I could +match it; but I don't believe the man had any like it." + +Georgiana was a nice little girl that just then came running across the +garden,--William Henry's sister, as I learned afterwards. + +Just then Aunt Phebe stepped to the door again. + +"Here are two hungry travellers," said Uncle Jacob, "and one of us is +bashful." + +"Well," said Aunt Phebe, very cheerily, "if anybody is hungry, this is +just the right place. How do you do, sir? Come right in. We live so out +of the way we 're always glad of company. Father, can't you introduce +your friend?" + +"Well--no--I can't," said he. "But I guess he's brother to the +President!" + +I said my name was Fry. + +Aunt Phebe said her father had a cousin that married a _Fry_, and asked +what my mother's maiden name was. I told her my mother was a _Young_, +and that I was named for my father and mother both,--_Silas Young Fry_. + +I heard a tittering overhead, behind a pair of blinds, where I guessed +some girls were peeping through. And afterwards, when I was sitting on +the piazza, I heard one tell another, not thinking I was within hearing, +that a young fry had come to supper. + +When we all sat round the table the girls seemed full of tickle, which +they tried to hide,--and one of them asked me,--I think it was Hannah +Jane,--with a very sober face,-- + +"Mr. Fry, will you take some fried fish?" + +I laughed and said, "No, I never take anything _fried_." + +Then we all laughed together, and so got acquainted very pleasantly; +for I have observed that a little ripple of fun sets people nearer +together than a whole ocean of calm conversation. + +After supper Uncle Jacob read the paper aloud, while the girls washed up +the dishes. All were eager to hear; and I found they kept the run of +affairs quite as well as townspeople. When there was too much rattling +of dishes for Uncle Jacob to be heard, and the girls lost some important +item, he was always willing to read it over. Little Tommy was rolled up +in a shawl and set down in the rocking-chair (that cushion did come out +of it) while his mother mended his clothes. This was the way he usually +got punished for tearing them. He was done up in a shawl, arms and all, +and kept in the rocking-chair while the clothes were being mended, and +he was obliged to remain pretty quiet, or the chair would tip. Aunt +Phebe said Tommy was so careless, something must be done, and keeping +him still was the worst punishment he could have. + +When the girls finished their dishes and took out their sewing, and were +going to light the large lamp, their mother said that we mustn't think +of settling ourselves for the evening. She said we must all go in to +grandmother's, for she'd be dreadful lonely, missing Billy so. + +Then Aunt Phebe told me how her nephew, Billy, a ten-year old boy, had +gone away to school only the day before, and how they all missed him. + +"Isn't he pretty young to go away to school?" I asked. + +"That's what I told his father," said she. + +"His father sent him away to keep him," said Uncle Jacob. "Grandmother +was spoiling him." + +"Ruining the boy with kindness?" said Lucy Maria. + +"Well," said Aunt Phebe, "I suppose 't was so. I know 't was so. But we +did hate to have Billy go!" + +Uncle Jacob then took me across the garden, and introduced me to Mr. +Carver, the father of William Henry, and to Grandmother,--old Mrs. +Carver, as the neighbors called her. + +She was a smiling, blue-eyed old lady, though with a little bit of an +anxious look just between the eyes. I thought there was no doubt about +her being a grandmother that would spoil boys. + +"Why, there's Towser, now?" said Uncle Jacob. "He didn't come to meet me +to-night." + +"He's been there, off and on, pretty much all day," said grandmother. +"You see what he's got his head on don't you?" + +"Billy's old boots!" said Uncle Jacob. + +"Yes. He set a good deal by Billy. I haven't put the boots away yet," +she said, with a sigh. + +"Here, Towser! come here, sir!" cried Uncle Jacob. + +Towser was a big, shaggy, clever-looking dog. He got up slowly, sniffed +at my trousers, then walked to Uncle Jacob, then round the room, then to +the door, then up stairs and down again, and then back he went and lay +down by the boots. + +"He misses my grandson," said grandmother to me, trying to smile about +it. + +The little girl, Georgiana, sat on a cricket, holding a kitten, tying +and untying its ribbon. A square of patchwork had fallen on the floor. +She stooped to pick it up and dropped her spool. That rolled away +towards the door, and kitty jumped for it and soon got the thread in a +tangle. The door opened so suddenly that she hopped up about two feet +into the air and tumbled head over heels. + +It was Lucy Maria who opened the door. The other girls came soon after; +and when Tommy was asleep Aunt Phebe came too. We had a very sociable +time. I don't call myself a talker, but I didn't mind talking there, +they seemed so easy, just like one's own folks. I told grandmother many +things about the contrabands, and about Southern life, and Southern +people, and about soldier life and battles and rations and making raids, +and the Washington hospitals, and how needy the contrabands were, and +about my barrel. "Poor creatures!" said she. "I must look up some things +for them to-morrow." Aunt Phebe thought there might be a good many +things lying about that would be of use to folks who hadn't anything. + +"Billy's boots!" cried Hannah Jane. + +"Why, yes," said her mother, "no use keeping boots for a growing boy." + +This and other remarks brought us back to William Henry again, and +grandmother seemed glad of it. She liked to keep talking about her boy. + +"I shall feel very anxious," she said. "I hope he will write soon as he +gets there. I told him he'd better write every day, so I could be sure +just how he was. For if well one day, he mightn't be the next." + +"O grandmother, that's too bad!" said Lucy Maria. "'T is cruel to ask a +boy to write every day!" + +"I wouldn't worry, mother," said Aunt Phebe. "Billy's always been a well +child." + +"These strong constitutions," said grandmother, "when they do take +anything, 't is apt to go hard with 'em." + +"He's taken pretty much everything that can be given to him already," +said Aunt Phebe. + +"I suppose they'll put clothes enough on his bed," said grandmother. "I +can't bear to think of his sleeping cold nights." + +"Perhaps they have blankets in that part of the country," said Uncle +Jacob. + +"But people are not always thoughtful about it," said grandmother. "I +really hope he'll take care of himself, and not be climbing up +everywhere. Houses and trees were bad enough; but now they have +gymnastic poles and everything else, to tempt boys off the ground. O +dear! when we think of everything that might happen to boys, 't is a +wonder one of them ever lives to grow up. Isn't there a pond near by?" + +"O yes," said Lucy Maria, "Crooked Pond. That's what gives the name to +the school,--Crooked Pond School." + +"I hope he won't be whipped," said his little sister. + +"Whipped!" cried Aunt Phebe, "I should like to see anybody whipping our +Billy!" + +"O mother, I shouldn't," said Matilda. + +"'T isn't an impossible thing," said grandmother. "He's quick. Billy's +good-hearted, but he's quick. He might speak up. I gave him a charge how +to behave. But then, what's a boy's memory? I don't suppose he'll +remember one half the things I told him. I meant to have charged him +over again, the last thing, not to stay out in the rain and get wet, +where there's nobody to see to his clothes being dried." + +"Well," said Uncle Jacob, "if a boy doesn't know enough to go into the +house when it rains, he better come home?" + +"What I hope is," said Aunt Phebe, "that he'll keep himself looking +decent." + +"If he does," said Lucy Maria, "then 'twill be the first time. The poor +child never seemed to have much luck about keeping spruced up. If +anybody here ever saw William Henry with no buttons off and both shoes +tied, and no rip anywhere, let 'em raise their hands!" + +Everybody laughed. I thought grandmother's eye wandered round the +circle, as if half taking it all in earnest, and half hoping some hand +would go up. But no hand went up. + +"Billy always was hard on his clothes," she said, with a sigh. "If he +only keeps well I won't say a word; but there's always danger of boys +eating unwholesome things, where there's nobody to deny them." + +"Billy's stomach's his own, and he must learn to have the care of it," +said Mr. Carver. + +Mr. Carver seemed a very quiet, thoughtful man, and of quite a different +turn from his brother. + +I suggested that boarding-house diet was apt to be plain; and then told +grandmother about a nephew of mine, a nice boy, who was rather older +than her grandson, who was named after me, and of whom I thought +everything. I told her he had been away at school a year, and that he +enjoyed himself, and went ahead in his studies, and never had a sick +day, and came home with better manners than he had when he went away. As +this pleased her, I said everything I could think of about my nephew, +including some anecdotes of little Silas, when he was quite small; and +she told a few about William Henry, the others helping her out, now and +then, with some missing items. + +Uncle Jacob said he shouldn't dare to say how many times she'd been +frightened almost to death about Billy. Many and many a time she was +sure he was lost, or drowned, or run over, or carried off, and would +never come back alive; but he always managed to come out straight at +last. Uncle Jacob said that if all the worry that was worried in this +world were piled up together, 't would make a mountain; but if all of it +that needn't be worried were knocked off, what was left wouldn't be +bigger than a huckleberry hill. + +Mr. Carver said there was one thing which made him entirely willing to +trust William Henry away, and that was, he had always been a boy of +principle. "I have watched him pretty closely," said Mr. Carver, "and +have noticed that he has a kind of pride about him that will not permit +him to lie, or equivocate in any way. + +"That's true!" cried Aunt Phebe. "True enough! Billy don't always look +fit to be seen, but he isn't deceitful. I'll say that for him!" + +"When he went to our school," said Matilda, "and was in the class below +me, and there was a fuss among the boys, and all of 'em told it a +different way, the teacher used to say she would ask William Henry, and +then she could tell just how it happened." + +"He couldn't have a better name than that," said Mr. Carver. + +Grandmother wiped her eyes, she seemed so gratified that her boy's good +qualities were remembered at last. + +I am almost certain that an editor should not be so long in telling his +story. But I should like to say a little more about that first +night,--just a very little more. + + * * * * * + +Grandmother wouldn't hear of my going to a hotel. Anybody that had been +a soldier, and was doing good, should never go from her house to find a +night's lodging. And she might as well have said, particularly anybody +that had a little Silas away at school, for I saw she felt it. + +It required very little urging to make me stay; for in all my travels I +had never met with a pleasanter set of people. My choice was offered me, +whether to lodge in the front chamber, or in the little back chamber +where Billy slept. Of course I chose the last; for people's best, front, +spare chambers never suit me very well. + +[Illustration] + +Billy's room was a snug little room, low in the walls, and papered with +flowery paper. There were two windows, the curtains to which were made +of paper like that on the walls. You had to roll them up with your +hands, and tie them with a string that went over the top. The room was +over the sink-room, and in going into it we stepped one step down. There +was no carpet on the floor, excepting a strip by the bedside and a mat +before the table. Grandmother said the table Billy and she made +together, so the legs didn't stand quite true. It was covered with +calico, and more calico was puckered on round the edge and came down to +the floor. That was done, she said, to make a place for his boots and +shoes. She thought 't was well for a boy to have a place for his things, +even if he did always leave them somewhere else. There was nothing +under the table but one rubber boot, with the rubber mostly cut off, and +some pieces of new pine, easy to whittle, that Billy had picked up and +stowed away there. A narrow looking-glass hung over the table. It had a +queer picture at the top, of two Japanese figures. The glass had a +little crack in one corner,--cracked by his ball bouncing up when he was +trying it. Some green tissue-paper hung around this fracture with a very +innocent, ornamental air. Not far from the glass I observed a rusty +jack-knife stuck in the wall, close to the window-frame; and on its +handle was hanging a string of birds'-eggs. In stepping up to examine +these I stumbled against an old hair-covered trunk, quite a large one. +The cover seemed a little askew, and not inclined to shut. This trunk +was the color of a red cow, and for aught I know was covered with the +skin of a red cow. In the middle of the cover the letters W. C. were +printed in brass nails, which led me to guess that the trunk had +belonged to William Henry's father. Grandmother raised the cover, to see +what kept it from shutting, and found 't was a great scraggly piece of +sassafras (saxifax) root, which lay on top. + +There was everything in that trunk,--everything. Of course I don't mean +meeting-houses, or steamboats, or anacondas; but everything a boy would +be likely to have. I saw picture papers, leather straps, old +pocket-books, a pair of dividers, the hull of a boat, a pair of +boot-pullers, a chrysalis, several penholders, a large clam-shell, a few +pocket combs,--comb parts gone,--fishing-lines, reels, bobs, sinkers, a +bullet-mould, arrows, a bag of marbles, a china egg, a rule, hammers, a +red comforter, two odd mittens, "that had lost the mates of 'em," a +bird-call, a mask, an empty cologne-bottle, a dime novel, odd +cards,--all these, and more, were visible by merely stirring the top +layer a little. Also several tangles of twine, twining and intertwining +among the mass. Grandmother shook up the things some,--by means of a +handle which probably belonged to a hatchet, but the hatchet part was +buried,--and I saw that the bottom was covered with marbles, dominos, +nails, bottles, slate-pencils, bits of brass clock machinery, and all +the innumerable nameless, shapeless things which would be likely to +settle down to the bottom of a boy's trunk. Grandmother said she should +set it to rights if it weren't for fish-hooks; but anybody's hands going +in there would be likely to get fish-hooks stuck into them. + +In one end of the trunk was quite a fanciful box. It was nothing but a +common pine box, painted black, with "cut out" pictures pasted on it. +There were ladies' faces, generals' heads, bugs, horses, butterflies, +chairs, ships, birds, and in the centre of the cover, outside, there was +a large red rose on its stalk. At the centre, inside, was a laughing, or +rather a grinning face, cut from some comic magazine. In this box was +kept some of his more precious treasures,--a little brass anchor, a +silver pencil-case, a whole set of dominos, and a ball, very prettily +worked, orange-peel pattern, in many colors. This was a present from his +teacher. There was also a curious pearl-handled knife, with the blades +broken short off. She said he never felt so badly about breaking any +knife as when that got broken, for it was one his cousin brought him +home from sea. He was keeping it to have new blades put in. + +"How much this trunk reminds me of little Silas's bureau-drawer!" I +said, taking up an old writing-book. As I spoke several bits of paper +fell out and among them were some very funny pictures, done with a +lead-pencil and then inked over. + +"What are these?" I asked. "Does he draw?" + +"Well--not exactly," she answered,--"nothing that can be called drawing. +He tries sometimes to copy what he sees." + +"I suppose I may look at them," I said, picking up one of the bits of +paper. "Pray what is this?" + +Grandmother put on her spectacles, and turned the paper round, as if +trying to find the up and down of it. + +[Illustration] + +"O, this is Uncle Jacob chasing the calf," said she; "those things that +look like elbows are meant for his legs kicking up. And on this piece +he's tried to make the old gobbler flying at Georgiana. You see the +turkey is as big as she is. But maybe you don't know which the turkey +is! That one is the fat man, and that one is the cat and kittens. And +that one is a dandy, making a bow. He saw one over at the hotel that he +took it from." + +She was sitting by the bed, and as she named them, spread them out upon +it, one by one, along with some others I have not mentioned, all very +comical. When I had finished laughing over them I said,-- + +"I should like to send these pictures in my barrel. 'T would give the +little sick contrabands something to laugh at." + +"Well, I'll tell Billy when he comes," she answered, then gathered them +up and smoothed the quilt again. + +The bedstead was a low one, without any posts, except that each leg +ended at the top with a little round, flat head or knob. The quilt was +made of light and dark patchwork. Grandmother told me, lowering her +voice, that Billy's mother made that patchwork when she was a little +girl just learning to sew; but 't was kept laid away, and about the last +work she ever did was to set it together. And 't was her request that +Billy should have it on his bed. She said Billy was a very _feeling_ +boy, though he didn't say much. One time, a couple years ago, she hung +that quilt out to blow, and forgot to take it in till after the dew +began to fall, so, being a little damp, she put on another one. But next +morning she looked in, and there 't was, over him, spread on all skewy! + +"Sometimes I think," she added, "that boys have more feeling than we +think for!" + +"I know they have!" I answered. + +A picture of William Henry's mother hung opposite the bed. It was not a +very handsome face, nor a pretty face. But it had such an earnest, +loving, wistful expression, that I could not help exclaiming, +"Beautiful!" + +"Yes, she was a beautiful woman. We all loved her. She was just like a +daughter to me. Billy doesn't know what he's lost, and 't is well he +don't. I try to be a mother to him; but they say," said the +tender-hearted old lady,--"they say a grandmother isn't fit to have the +bringing up of a child! Billy has his faults." + +"Now if I were a child," I exclaimed, "I should rather you would have +the bringing up of me than anybody I know of! And 't is my opinion, from +what I hear, that you've done well by Billy. Of course boys are boys, +and don't always do us they ought to. Now there's little Silas. He's +been a world of trouble first and last. But then boys soon get big +enough to be ashamed of all their little bad ways. The biggest part of +'em like good men best, and mean to be good men. And I think Billy's +going to grow up a capital fellow! A capital fellow! If a boy's +true-hearted he'll come out all right. And your boy is, isn't he?" + +"O very!" she said. "Very!" + +I was so glad to think, after the old lady had gone down, that I'd said +something which, if she kept awake, thinking about the boy, would be a +comfort to her. + + * * * * * + +Next morning grandmother brought out quite an armful of old clothes. A +poor old couple, living near, she said, took most of hers and Mr. +Carver's; but what few there were of Billy's that were decent to send I +might have. A couple of linen jackets, a Scotch cap, two pairs of thin +trousers, not much worn, but outgrown, a small overcoat, several pairs +of stockings, and some shoes. And the boots also, and some +underclothing, that William Henry might have worn longer, she said, if +he were only living at home, where she could put a stitch in 'em now and +then. + +Grandmother sighed as she emptied the pockets of crumbles, green apples, +reins, bullets, and knotted, gray, balled-up pocket-handkerchiefs. Among +the clothes she brought out a funny little uniform, which I had seen +hanging up in his room,--one that he had when a soldier, or trainer, as +she called it, in a military company, formed near the beginning of the +war. It consisted of a blue flannel sack, edged with red braid, red +flannel Zouave trousers, and a blue flannel cap, bound with red, and +having a square visor. That uniform would fit some little contraband, +she said. + +"Hadn't you better keep those?" I asked. "Won't he want them?" + +"O no," she said. "He's outgrown them. And 't is no use keeping them for +moths to get into." + +She gave me some picture-books, and two primers, a roll of linen, and +quite a good blanket, all of which I received thankfully. + +In rolling up the different articles, I saw her eye resting so lovingly +on the little uniform, that I said, "Here, grandmother, hadn't you +better take back these?" + +"O, I guess not," she answered. "I guess you better send them. But," she +added a moment after, "perhaps they might as well stay till you send +another barrel." + +"Just exactly as well," I said. And the old lady seemed as if she had +recovered a lost treasure. + +Aunt Phebe added a good many valuable articles, so that by the time +Uncle Jacob was ready to start I had collected two immense bundles, and +felt almost brave enough to face another barrel. For they all said they +would beg from their friends, and save things, and that I must certainly +come again. + +"For you know," said Aunt Phebe, "'t is a great deal better to hear you +tell things than to read about them in the newspapers." + +They stood about the door to see us off, and Matilda stroked the old +horse, and talked to him as if he understood. She broke off two heads +of phlox, red and white, and fastened them in behind his ear. Uncle +Jacob told me, as we rode along, that the old horse really expected to +be patted and talked to before starting. And indeed I noticed myself +that after being dressed up he stepped off with an exceedingly satisfied +air, just as I have seen some little girls,--and boys too, for that +matter, and occasionally grown people. + + * * * * * + +But it is quite time to give you the Letters. There should be more of +them, for the correspondence covers a period of about two years. 'T is +true that, after the first, William Henry did not write nearly as often. +But still there are many missing. Little Tommy cut up some into strings +of boys and girls, and at one time when grandmother wasn't very well, +and had to hire help, the girl look some to kindle fire with. The old +lady said she was sitting up in her arm-chair, by the fireplace one day, +when she saw, in the corner, a piece of paper with writing on it, half +burnt up. She poked it out with a yardstick, and 't was one of Billy's +letters! Quite a number which were perfect have been omitted. This is +because that some coming between were missing; and so, as the children +say, there wouldn't be any sense to them. Others contained mostly +private matters. Very few were dated. This is, however, of small +importance, as the Letters probably will never be brought forward to +decide a law case. + + + + +THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS. + + + +The first letter from William Henry which has been preserved seems to +have been written a few weeks after entering his school, and when he had +begun to get acquainted with the boys. Could the letter itself be made +to appear here, with its _very_ peculiar handwriting, and with all the +other distinctive marks of a boy's first exploit on paper, it would be +found even more entertaining than when given in the printed form. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I think the school that I have come to is a very good school. We have +dumplings. I've tied up the pills that you gave me in case of feeling +bad, in the toe of my cotton stocking that's lost the mate of it. The +mince pies they have here are baked without any plums being put into +them. So, please, need I say, No, I thank you, ma'am, to 'em when they +come round? If they don't agree, shall I take the pills or the drops? Or +was it the hot flannels,--and how many? + +I've forgot about being shivery. Was it to eat roast onions? No, I guess +not. I guess it was a wet band tied round my head. Please write it down, +because you told me so many things I can't remember. How can anybody +tell when anybody is sick enough to take things? You can't think what a +great, tall man the schoolmaster is. He has got something very long to +flog us with, that bends easy, and hurts,--Q. S. So Dorry says. Q. S. is +in the abbreviations, and stands for a sufficient quantity. Dorry says +the master keeps a paint-pot in his room, and has his whiskers painted +black every morning, and his hair too, to make himself look scareful. +Dorry is one of the great boys. But Tom Cush is bigger. I don't like Tom +Cush. + +I have a good many to play with; but I miss you and Towser and all of +them very much. How does my sister do? Don't let the cow eat my +peach-tree. Dorry Baker he says that peaches don't grow here; but he +says the cherries have peach-stones in them. In a month my birthday will +be here. How funny 't will seem to be eleven, when I've been ten so +long! I don't skip over any button-holes in the morning now; so my +jacket comes out even. + +Why didn't you tell me I had a red head? But I can run faster than any +of them that are no bigger than I am, and some that are. One of the +spokes of my umbrella broke itself in two yesterday, because the wind +blew so when it rained. + +We learn to sing. He says I've a good deal of voice; but I've forgot +what the matter is with it. We go up and down the scale, and beat time. +The last is the best fun. The other is hard to do. But if I could only +get up, I guess 't would be easy to come down. He thinks something ails +my ear. I thought he said I hadn't got any at all. What have a feller's +ears to do with singing, or with scaling up and down? + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. Here's a conundrum Dorry Baker made: In a race, why would the +singing-master win? Because "Time flies," and he _beats time_. + +I want to see Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, dreadfully. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +This second letter must have been pleasing to Aunt Phebe, as it shows +that William Henry was beginning to have some faint regard for his +personal appearance. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I've got thirty-two cents left of my spending-money. When shall I begin +to wear my new shoes every day? The soap they have here is pink. Has +father sold the bossy calf yet? There's a boy here they call Bossy Calf, +because he cried for his mother. He has been here three days. He sleeps +with me. And every night, after he has laid his head down on the pillow, +and the lights are blown out, I begin to sing, and to scale up and down, +so the boys can't hear him cry. Dorry Baker and three more boys sleep in +the same room that we two sleep in. When they begin to throw bootjacks +at me, to make me stop my noise, it scares him, and he leaves off +crying. I want a pair of new boots dreadfully, with red on the tops of +them, that I can tuck my trousers into and keep the mud off. + +One thing more the boys plague me for besides my head. Freckles. Dorry +held up an orange yesterday. "Can you see it?" says he. "To be sure," +says I. "Didn't know as you could see through 'em," says he, meaning +freckles. Dear grandmother, I have cried once, but not in bed. For fear +of their laughing, and of the bootjacks. But away in a good place under +the trees. A shaggy dog came along and licked my face. But oh! he did +make me remember Towser, and cry all over again. But don't tell, for I +should be ashamed. I wish the boys would like me. Freckles come thicker +in summer than they do in winter. + +[Illustration] + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +If William Henry's recipe for the prevention of spunkiness were +generally adopted, I fancy that many a boy would be seen practising the +circus performance here mentioned. It must have been "sure cure!" I well +remember the "plaguing" of my school days, and know from experience how +hard it is for a boy (or a man) always to keep his temper. The fellows +used to make fun of my name. In our quarrels, when there was nothing +else left to say, they would call out,--leaving off the Silas,--"Y Fry? +why not bake?" or "boil," or "stew." Of course to such remarks there was +no answer. + +It is to be regretted that so few of Grandmother's letters were +preserved. As Billy here makes known the state of his pocket-book, we +may infer that she had been inquiring into his accounts, and perhaps +cautioning him against spending too freely. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I do what you told me. You told me to bite my lips and count ten, before +I spoke, when the boys plague me, because I'm a spunky boy. But doing it +so much makes my lips sore. So now I go head over heels sometimes, till +I'm out of breath. Then I can't say anything. + +This is the account you asked me for, of all I've bought this week:-- + + Slippery elm 1 cent. + Corn-ball 1 cent. + Gum 1 cent. + +[Illustration] + +And I swapped a whip-lash that I found for an orange that only had one +suck sucked out of it. The "Two Betseys," they keep very good things to +sell. They are two old women that live in a little hut with two rooms to +it, and a ladder to go up stairs by, through a hole in the wall. One +Betsey, she is lame and keeps still, and sells the things to us sitting +down. The other Betsey, she can run, and keeps a yardstick to drive away +boys with. For they have apple-trees in their garden. But she never +touches a boy, if she does catch him. They have hens and sell eggs. + +[Illustration] + +The boys that sleep in the same room that we do wanted Benjie and me to +join together with them to buy a great confectioner's frosted cake, and +other things. And when the lamps had been blown out, to keep awake and +light them up again, and so have a supper late at night, with the +curtains all down and the blinds shut up, when people were in bed, and +not let anybody know. + +But Benjie hadn't any money. Because his father works hard for his +living,--but his uncle pays for his schooling,--and he wouldn't if he +had. And I said I wouldn't do anything so deceitful. And the more they +said you must and you shall, the more I said I wouldn't and I shouldn't, +and the money should blow up first. + +So they called me "Old Stingy" and "Pepper-corn" and "Speckled +Potatoes." Said they'd pull my hair if 't weren't for burning their +fingers. Dorry was the maddest one. Said he guessed my hair was tired of +standing up, and wanted to lie down to rest. + +I wish you would please send me a new comb, for the large end of mine +has got all but five of the teeth broken out, and the small end can't +get through. I can't get it cut because the barber has raised his price. +Send quite a stout one. + +I have lost two of my pocket-handkerchiefs, and another one went up on +Dorry's kite, and blew away. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I did what you told me, when I got wet. I hung my clothes round the +kitchen stove on three chairs, but the cooking girl she flung them under +the table. So now I go wrinkled, and the boys chase me to smooth out the +wrinkles. I've got a good many hard rubs. But I laugh too. That's the +best way. Some of the boys play with me now, and ask me to go round with +them. Dorry hasn't yet. Tom Cush plagues the most. + +Sometimes the schoolmaster comes out to see us when we are playing ball, +or jumping. To-day, when we all clapped Dorry, the schoolmaster clapped +too. Somebody told me that he likes boys. Do you believe it? + +A cat ran up the spout this morning, and jumped in the window. Dorry was +going to choke her, or drown her, for the working-girl said she licked +out the inside of a custard-pie. I asked Dorry what he would take to let +her go, and he said five cents. So I paid. For she was just like my +sister's cat. And just as likely as not somebody's little sister would +have cried about it. For she had a ribbon tied round her neck. + +[Illustration] + +The woman that I go to have my buttons sewed on to, is a very good +woman. She gave me a cookie with a hole in the middle, and told me to +mind and not eat the hole. + +Coming back, I met Benjie, and he looked so sober, I offered it to him +as quick as I could. But it almost made him cry; because, he said, his +mother made her cookies with a hole in the middle. But when he gets +acquainted, he won't be so bashful, and he'll feel better then. + +We walked away to a good place under the trees, and he talked about his +folks, and his grandmother, and his Aunt Polly, and the two little +twins. They've got two cradles just like each other, and they are just +as big as each other, and just as old. They creep round on the floor, +and when one picks up anything, the other pulls it away. I wish we had +some twins. I told him things too. + +Kiss yourself for me. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. If you send a cake, send quite a large one. I like the kind that +Uncle Jacob does. Aunt Phebe knows. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I was going to tell you about "Gapper Skyblue." "Gapper" means grandpa. +He wears all the time blue overalls, faded out, and a jacket like them. +That's why they call him "Gapper Skyblue." He's a very poor old man. He +saws wood. We found him leaning up against a tree. Benjie and I were +together. His hair is all turned white, and his back is bent. He had +great patches on his knees. His hat was an old hat that he had given +him, and his shoes let in the mud. I wish you would please to be so good +as to send me both your old-fashioned india-rubbers, to make balls of, +as quick as holes come. Most all the boys have lost their balls. And +please to send some shoe-strings next time, for I have to tie mine up +all the time now with some white cord that I found, and it gets into +hard knots, and I have to stoop my head way down and untie 'em with my +teeth, because I cut my thumb whittling, and jammed my fingers in the +gate. + +Old Gapper Skyblue's nose is pretty long, and he looked so funny leaning +up against a tree, that I was just going to laugh. But then I remembered +what you said a real gentleman would do. That he would be polite to all +people, no matter what clothes they had on, or whether they were rich +people or poor people. He had a big basket with two covers to it, and we +offered to carry it for him. + +He said, "Yes, little boys, if you won't lift up the covers." + +We found 't was pretty heavy. And I wondered what was in it, and so did +Benjie. The basket was going to "The Two Betseys." + +When we had got half-way there, Dorry and Tom Cush came along, and +called out: "Hallo! there, you two. What are you lugging off so fast?" + +[Illustration] + +We said we didn't know. They said, "Let's see." We said, "No, you can't +see." Then they pushed us. Gapper was a good way behind. I sat down on +one cover, and Benjie on the other, to keep them shut up. + +Then they pulled us. I swung my arms round, and made the sand fly with +my feet, for I was just as mad as anything. Then Tom Cush hit me. So I +ran to tell Gapper to make haste. But first picked up a stone to send at +Tom Cush. But remembered about the boy that threw a stone and hit a boy, +and he died. I mean the boy that was hit. And so dropped the stone down +again and ran like lightning. + +"Go it, you pesky little red-headed firebug!" cried Tom Cush. + +"Go it, Spunkum! I'll hold your breath," Dorry hollered out. + +The dog, the shaggy dog that licked my face when I was lying under the +trees, he came along and growled and snapped at them, because they were +hurting Benjie. You see Benjie treats him well, and gives him bones. And +the master came in sight too. So they were glad to let us alone. + +The basket had rabbits in it. Gapper Skyblue wanted to pay us two cents +apiece. But we wouldn't take pay. We wouldn't be so mean. + +When we were going along to school, Bubby Short came and whispered to me +that Tom and Dorry were hiding my bird's eggs in a post-hole. But I got +them again. Two broke. + +Bubby Short is a nice little fellow. He's about as old as I am, but over +a head shorter and quite fat. His cheeks reach way up into his eyes. +He's got little black eyes, and little cunning teeth, just as white as +the meat of a punkin-seed. + +I had to pay twenty cents of that quarter you sent, for breaking a +square of glass. But didn't mean to, so please excuse. I haven't much +left. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. When punkins come, save the seeds--to roast. If you please. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +One of my elbows came through, but the woman sewed it up again. I've +used up both balls of my twine. And my white-handled knife,--I guess it +went through a hole in my pocket, that I didn't know of till after the +knife was lost. My trousers grow pretty short. But she says 't is partly +my legs getting long. I'm glad of that. And partly getting 'em wet. + +I stubbed my toe against a stump, and tumbled down and scraped a hole +through the knee of my oldest pair. For it was very rotten cloth. I +guess the hole is too crooked to have her sew it up again. She thinks a +mouse ran up the leg, and gnawed that hole my knife went through, to get +the crumbles in the pocket. I don't mean when they were on me, but +hanging up. + +My boat is almost rigged. She says she will hem the sails if I won't +leave any more caterpillars in my pockets. I'm getting all kinds of +caterpillars to see what kind of butterflies they make. + +Yesterday, Dorry and I started from the pond to run and see who would +get home first. He went one way, and I went another. + +I cut across the Two Betseys' garden. But I don't see how I did so much +hurt in just once cutting across. I knew something cracked,--that was +the sink-spout I jumped down on, off the fence. There was a board I hit, +that had huckleberries spread out on it to dry. They went into the +rain-water hogshead. I didn't know any huckleberries were spread out on +that board. + +I meant to go between the rows, but guess I stepped on a few beans. My +wrist got hurt dreadfully by my getting myself tripped up in a +squash-vine. And while I was down there, a bumble-bee stung me on my +chin. I stepped on a little chicken, for she ran the way I thought she +wasn't going to. I don't remember whether I shut the gate or not. But +guess not, for the pig got in, and went to rooting before Lame Betsey +saw him, and the other Betsey had gone somewhere. + +I got home first, but my wrist ached, and my sting smarted. You forgot +to write down what was good for bumble-bee stings. Benjie said his Aunt +Polly put damp sand on to stings. So he put a good deal of it on my +chin, and it got better, though my wrist kept aching in the night. And I +went to school with it aching. But didn't tell anybody but Benjie. Just +before school was done, the master said we might put away our books. +Then he talked about the Two Betseys, and told how Lame Betsey got lame +by saving a little boy's life when the house was on fire. She jumped out +of the window with him. And he made us all feel ashamed that we great +strong boys should torment two poor women. + +Then he told about the damage done the day before by some boy running +through their garden, and said five dollars would hardly be enough to +pay it. "I don't know what boy it was, but if he is present," says he, +"I call upon him to rise." + +Then I stood up. I was ashamed, but I stood up. For you told me once +this saying: "Even if truth be a loaded cannon walk straight up to it." + +The master ordered me not to go on to the playground for a week, nor be +out of the house in play-hours. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +I was very sorry that while in the neighborhood of the Crooked Pond +school, a short time since, lack of time prevented my finding out the +Two Betseys' shop. These worthy women, as will be seen further on, +became William Henry's firm friends. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Lame Betsey gave me something to put on my wrist that cured it. I went +there to ask how much money must be paid. I had sold my football, and my +brass sword, and my pocket-book. They told me they should not take any +money, but if I would saw some wood for them, and do an errand now and +then, they should be very glad. When I told Dorry, he threw up his hat, +and called out, "Three cheers for the 'Two Betseys.'" And when his hat +came down, he picked it up and passed it round; "for," says he, "we all +owe them something." One great boy dropped fifty cents in. And it all +came to about four dollars. And Bubby Short carried it to them. But I +shall saw some wood for them all the same. + +Last evening it was rainy. A good many boys came into our room, and we +sat in a row, and every one said some verses, or told a riddle. These +two verses I send for Aunt Phebe's little Tommy to learn. I guess he's +done saying "Fishy, fishy in the brook" by this time, Dorry said he got +them out of the German. + + "When you are rich, + You can ride with a span; + But when you are poor, + You must go as you can. + + "Better honest and poor, + And go as you can, + Than rich and a rogue, + And ride with a span." + +This riddle was too hard for me to guess. But Aunt Phebe's girls like to +guess riddles, and I will send it to them. Mr. Augustus says that a +soldier made it in a Rebel prison. Mr. Augustus is a tall boy, that +knows a good deal, and wears spectacles, and that's why we call him Mr. +Augustus. + +RIDDLE. + + I'm one half a Bible command, + That aye and forever shall stand; + And, throughout our beautiful land, + 'T is needed now to foil the traitorous band. + + I'm always around,--yet they say + Too often I'm out of the way. + Thereby leading astray; + I'm decked in jewels fine and rich array. + + Although from my heart I am stirred, + I can utter but one little word, + And that very seldom is heard; + My elder sister sometimes kept a bird. + + Reads the riddle clear to you? + I am very near to you: + Both very near and dear--to you, + Yet kept in chains. Does that seem queer to you? + +That about being "stirred from the heart" is all true. So is that about +being "_around_." The "Bible command," spoken of at the beginning, is +only in three words, or two words joined by "and." This word is the +first half. But I mustn't tell you too much. + +They are all _dear_. But some kinds are dearer than others. + +I wish my father would send me one. + +That about the bird is first-rate, though I never saw one of that kind +of--I won't say what I mean (Dorry says you mustn't say what you mean +when you tell riddles). But maybe you've seen one. They used to have +them in old times. + +I've launched my boat. She's the biggest one in school. Dorry broke a +bottle upon her, and christened her the "General Grant." The boys gave +three cheers when she touched water, and Benjie sent up his new kite. +It's a ripper of a kite with a great gilt star on it that's got eight +prongs. + +My hat blew off, and I had to go in swimming after it. It is quite +stiff. The master was walking by, and stopped to see the launching. When +he smiles, he looks just as pleasant as anything. + +He patted me on my cheek, and says he, "You ought to have called her the +'Flying Billy.'" And then he walked on. + +"What does 'Flying Billy' mean?" says I. + +"It means you," said Dorry. "And it means that you run fast, and that he +likes you. If a boy can run fast, and knows his multiplication-table, +and won't lie, he likes him." + +But how can such a great man like a small boy? + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. When the boys laugh at me, I laugh too. That's a good way. + +P. S. There's a man here that's got nine puppies. If I had some money I +could buy one. The boys don't plague me quite so much. I'm sorry you +dropped off your spectacles down the well. I suppose they sunk. I've got +a sneezing cold. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +About the spectacles, I may as well confess that I was the means of +their being lost. + +One day Uncle Jacob came into the office hastily, and, with a look of +distress, said to me very solemnly,-- + +"Mr. Fry, if you can, I want you to leave everything, and ride out with +me!" + +"Oh! what is the matter?" I exclaimed. + +"Why," said he, "ever since we sent out word about old clothes, they've +been coming in so fast the rooms are all filled up, and we don't know +where to go!" + +He then went on to tell that the notice had spread into all the +neighborhoods round about, and that bundles of every description were +constantly pouring in. They were left at the back door, front door, side +door, dropped on the piazza, and in at the windows. Men riding by tossed +them into the yard, and little boys came tugging bundles, bigger than +they could lift, or dragged them in roller-carts, or wheeled them in +wheelbarrows. He said he found bundles waiting for him at the store, at +the post-office, and he could hardly ride along the street without some +woman knocking at the window, and holding up one, and beckoning with her +forefinger for him to come in after it! Even in the meeting-house +somebody took a roll of something from under a shawl and handed him! He +would have brought, the parcels, or a part of them, but there was every +kind of a thing sent in,--white vests and flounced lace or muslin gowns, +and open-work stockings; and some things were too poor, and some were +too nice, and his folks thought Mr. Fry should come out. + +So what could I do but go? And, as it happened, I could "leave +everything" just as well as not, and was glad to. + + * * * * * + +Grandmother received me in the kindest manner, gave me a pair of black +yarn stockings, asked about the contrabands, talked about Billy, read me +his letters, and, on the whole, seemed much easier in her mind +concerning him than when I saw her before. + +She was skimming pans of milk. With her permission I watched the +skimming, for pans of milk to a city man were a rare sight to see! I was +also given some of the cream, and a baked Summer Sweeting to eat with +it. + +The cream was put into a large yellow bowl, and the bowl set in a +six-quart tin pail. It was then ready to be lowered into the well; for, +as country people seldom have ice, they use the well as a refrigerator, +and it is there they keep their butter, cream, fresh meat, or anything +that is likely to spoil. + +"Do let me lower it down the well for you," I said; seeing that her hand +trembled a little; and besides, I hardly thought it prudent for her to +go out, as the grass was damp, there having been quite a sprinkle of +rain. + +"Well, if you've a mind to take the trouble," she said, as she handed me +the pail, at the same time telling me to be particular about putting +stones around the bowl, in the bottom, to steady it. She then handed me +the line, and cautioned me about hitting another pail, which was already +down the well. + +Just as I went out Uncle Jacob passed through the gate into the garden, +to pick his mother some beans. + +"Sha' n't I do that?" he asked. + +"O no," said I; "I am very glad to make myself useful." + +Little Tommy stood by the well watching me, and I was talking to him and +playing with Towser, and by not attending to my business, I must have +tied a granny-knot, though I meant to tie a square one; and about +half-way down the pail slipped off, and went plump to the bottom. + +Little Tommy ran into the house calling out, "Grandmother! Grandmother! +that man lost your pail! Mr. Fwy let go of your pail!" + +Grandmother came running out and looked down. Her spectacles were tipped +up on top of her head; and when she bent over the well-curb they slipped +off, just touched the tip of her nose, and were out of sight in a +moment. + +Uncle Jacob came up laughing and said, "Of course the specs must go down +to see where the cream went to!" But Grandmother thought it was no +laughing matter. + +Mr. Carver and Uncle Jacob had a good many spells of fishing in the +well. At last Uncle Jacob was lucky enough to catch the handle of the +pail with his hook, and then he drew the pail up. It was found to be in +quite a damaged condition. The water looked creamy for some time. The +glasses never came to light. It seemed, therefore, no more than my duty +to send Grandmother another pair, which I did soon after in a bright new +six-quart pail, wishing with all my heart they were gold-bowed ones. But +I could not afford to do more than replace the lost ones. + +I will add that the six-quart pail was filled with the best of peaches. + + * * * * * + +The next three letters seem to have been sent at one time. Before they +reached Grandmother she had worked herself into a perfect fever of +anxiety. + +Owing to the rabbit affair, of which they contain the whole story, +William Henry had not felt like writing, so that, even before his +letter was begun, they at the farm were already looking for it to +arrive. Then it took a longer time than he expected to finish up his +account of the matter; and when at last the letter was sealed and +directed, the boy who carried it to the post-office forgot his errand, +and it hung in an overcoat pocket several days. No wonder, then, the old +lady grew anxious. + +I was at the farm at the time they were looking for the letters, and I +really tried very hard to be entertaining; but not the funniest story I +could tell about the funniest little rollypoly contraband in the +hospital could excite more than a passing smile. + +Aunt Phebe gave me my charge before I went in. + +"You must be lively," said she. "Be lively! Turn her thoughts off of +Billy! That's the way! Though I do feel worried," she added. "'T is a +puzzle why we don't have letters. I'm afraid something _is_ the matter, +or else it seems to me we should. He's been very good about writing. If +anything has happened to Billy, I don't know what we should do. 'T would +come pretty hard to Grandmother. And I do have my fears! But 't won't do +to let her know I worry about him. And you better be very lively! We all +have to be!" + +I observed that Mr. Carver, although he talked very calmly with his +mother, and urged her to rest easy, was after all not so very much at +ease himself. He sat by the window apparently reading a newspaper. But +it was plain that he only wished Grandmother to think he was reading; +for he paid but little attention to the paper, and was constantly +looking across the garden to see when Uncle Jacob should get back from +the post-office; and the moment Towser barked he folded his paper and +went out. Grandmother put on her "out-door" spectacles, and stood at the +window. When Mr. Carver returned she glanced rapidly over him with an +earnest, beseeching look, which seemed to say that it was not possible +but that somewhere about him, in some pocket, or in his hat, or shut up +in his hand, there must be a letter. + +"The mail was late," Mr. Carver said; "Uncle Jacob couldn't wait, and +had left the boy to fetch it." + +Grandmother was setting the table. In her travels to and from the +buttery she stopped often to glance up the road, and during meal-time +her eyes were constantly turning to the windows. + +Presently Aunt Phebe came in. + +"The boy didn't bring any letters," said she; "but I've been thinking it +over, and for my part I don't think 't is worth while to worry. No news +is good news. Bad news travels fast. A thousand things might happen to +keep a boy from writing. He might be out of paper, or out of stamps, or +out of anything to write about, or might have lessons to learn, or be +too full of play, or be kept after school, or might a good many things!" + +"You don't suppose," said Grandmother, "that--you don't think--it +couldn't be possible, could it, that Billy's been punished and feels +ashamed to tell of it?" + +"Nonsense!" said Aunt Phebe. "Now don't, Grandmother, I beg of you get +started off on that notion! Yesterday 't was the measles. And day before +'t was being drowned, and now 't is being punished!" + +"'T wouldn't be like William not to tell of it," said Mr. Carver. + +"Not a bit like him," said Aunt Phebe. + +"No," said Grandmother, "I don't think it would. But you know when +anybody gets to thinking, they are apt to think of everything." + +I told them there was a possibility of the letter being mis-sent. And +that idea reminded me of just such an anxious time we had once about +little Silas. His letter went to a town of the same name in Ohio, and +was a long time reaching us. I made haste to tell this to Grandmother, +and thought it comforted her a little. + +When I left the next morning, Mr. Carver followed me out and asked me to +make inquiries in regard to the telegraphic communication with the +Crooked Pond School, and to be in readiness to telegraph; for, in case +no letter came that day, he should send me word to do so. + +But no word arrived, as the next mail brought the following letters, +with their amusing illustrations. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I suppose if I should tell you I had had a whipping you would feel +sorry. Well, don't feel sorry. I will begin at the beginning. + +We can't go out evenings. But last Monday evening one of the teachers +said I might go after my overjacket that I took off to play ball, and +left hanging over a fence. It was a very light night. I had to go down a +long lane to get where it was; and when I got there, it wasn't there. +The moon was shining bright as day. Old Gapper Skyblue lives down that +lane. He raises rabbits. He keeps them in a hen-house. + +Now I will tell you what some of the great boys do sometimes. They steal +eggs and roast them. There is a fireplace in Tom Cush's room. Once they +roasted a pullet. The owners have complained so that the master said he +would flog the next boy that robbed a hen-house or an orchard, before +the whole school. + +Now I will go on about my overjacket. While I was looking for it I heard +a queer noise in the rabbit-house. So I jumped over. Then a boy popped +out of the rabbit-house and ran. I knew him in a minute, for all he ran +so fast,--Tom Cush. + +[Illustration] + +Now when he started to run, something dropped out of his hand. I went up +to it, and 't was a rabbit, a dead one, just killed; for when I stooped +down and felt of it, it was warm. And while I was stooping down, there +came a great heavy hand down on my shoulder. It was a man's great heavy +hand. + +Gapper had set a man there to watch. He hollered into my ears, "Now I've +got you!" I hollered, too, for he came sudden, without my hearing. + +"You little thief!" says he. + +"I didn't kill it," says I. + +"You little liar!" says he. + +"I'm not a liar," says I. + +"I'll take you to the master," says he. + +"Take me where you want to," says I. + +Then he pulled me along, and kept saying, "Who did, if you didn't? If +you didn't, who did?" + +And he walked me straight up into the master's room, without so much as +giving a knock at the door. + +"I've brought you a thief and a liar," says he. Then he told where he +found me, and what a bad boy I was. Then he went away, because the +master wanted to talk with me all by myself. + +Now I didn't want to tell tales of Tom, for it's mean to tell tales. So +all I could say was that I didn't do it. + +The master looked sorry. Said he was afraid I had begun to go with bad +boys. "Didn't I see you walking in the lane with Tom Cush yesterday?" +says he. I said I was helping him find his ball. And so I was. + +"If you were with the boys who did this," said he, "or helped about it +in any way, that's just as bad." + +I said I didn't help them, or go with them. + +"How came you there so late?" says he. + +"I went after my overjacket," says I. + +"And where is your overjacket?" says he. + +I said I didn't know. It wasn't there. + +Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the +morning. + +When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as +still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never +go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt. +Course, I knew 't wouldn't be like one of your little whippings. I +wasn't so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being +whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you +about the next morning, and how I was waked up. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I had to leave off and jump up and run to school without stopping to +sign my name, for the bell rang. But, now school is done, I will write +another letter to send with that, because you will want to know the end +at the same time you do the beginning. + +It was little pebbles that waked me up the next morning,--little pebbles +dropping down on my face. I looked up to find where they came from, and +saw Tom Cush standing in the door. He was throwing them. He made signs +that he wanted to tell me something. So I got up. And while I was +getting up, I saw my overjacket on the back of a chair. I found out +afterwards that Benjie brought it in, and forgot to tell me. + +Tom made signs for me to go down stairs with him. He wouldn't let me put +my shoes on. He had his in his hand, and I carried mine so. So we went +through the long entries in our stocking-feet, and sat down on the +doorstep to put our shoes on. Nobody else had got up. The sky was +growing red. I never got up so early before, except one Fourth of July, +when I didn't go to bed, but only slept some with my head leaned down on +a window-seat, and jumped up when I heard a gun go off. Tom carried me +to a place a good ways from the house. Our shoes got soaking wet with +dew. + +Now I will tell you what he said to me. + +He asked me if I saw him anywhere the night before. I said I did. + +He asked me where I saw him. + +I said I saw him coming out of the hen-house, where Gapper Skyblue kept +his rabbits. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was sure. + +"And did you tell the master?" says he. + +I said, "No." + +"Nor the boys?" + +"No." + +Then he told me he had been turned away from one school on account of +his bad actions, and he wouldn't have his father hear of this for +anything; and said that, if I wouldn't tell, he would give me a +four-bladed knife, and quite a large balloon, and show me how to send +her up, and if I was flogged he would give me a good deal more, would +give money,--would give two dollars. + +"I don't believe he'll whip you," says he, "for he likes you. And if he +does, he wouldn't whip a small boy so hard as he would a big one." + +I said a little whipping would hurt a little boy just as much as a great +whipping would hurt a great boy. But I said I wouldn't be mean enough to +tell or to take pay for not telling. + +He didn't say much more. And we went towards home then. But before we +came to the house, he turned off into another path. + +A little while after, I heard somebody walking behind me. I looked +round, and there was the master. He'd been watching with a sick man all +night. + +He asked me where I had been so early. I said I had been taking a walk. +He asked who the boy was that had just left me. I said 't was Tom Cush. +He asked if I was willing to tell what we had been talking about. I said +I would rather not tell. + +Says he, "It has a bad look, your being out with that boy so early, +after what happened last night." + +Then he asked me where I had found my overjacket. I said, "In my +chamber, sir, on a chair-back." + +"And how came it there?" says he. + +"I don't know, sir," says I. + +And, Grandmother, I almost cried; for everything seemed going against +me, to make me out a bad boy. I will tell the rest after supper. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Now I will tell you what happened that afternoon. + +The school was about half done. + +The master gave three loud raps with his ruler. + +This made the room very still. + +He asked the other teachers to come up to the platform. And they did. + +Next, he waved his ruler, and said, "Fold." + +And we all folded our arms. + +It was so still that we could hear the clock tick. + +He told Tom Cush to close the windows and shut the blinds. + +Then he talked to us about stealing and telling lies. Said he didn't +like to punish, but it must be done. He said he had reason to believe +that the boy whose name he should call out was not honest, that he took +other people's things and told lies. + +Then he told the story, all that he knew about it, and said he hoped +that all concerned in it would have honor enough to speak out and own +it. + +Nobody said anything. + +Then the master said, "William Henry, you may come to the platform." + +I went up. + +Somebody way in the back part shouted out, "Don't believe it!" + +"Silence!" said the master. And he thumped his ruler on the desk. + +Then he told me to take off my jacket, and fold it up. And I did. + +He told me to hand my collar and ribbon to a teacher. And I did. + +Then he laid down his ruler, and took his rod and bent it to see if it +was limber. It wasn't exactly a rod. It was the thing I told you about +when I first came to this school. + +[Illustration] + +He tried it twice on the desk first. + +Then he took hold of my shoulder and turned my back round towards him. +He said I had better bend down my head a little, and took hold of the +neck of my shirt to keep me steady. I shut my teeth together tight. + +At that very minute Bubby Short cried out, "Master! Master! Stop! Don't! +He didn't do it! He didn't kill it! I know who! I'll tell! I will! I +will! I don't care what Tom Cush does! 'T was Tom Cush killed it!" + +The master didn't say one word. But he handed me my jacket. + +The boys all clapped and gave three cheers, and he let them. + +Then he said to me, whispering, "Is this so, William?" And I said, low, +"Yes, sir." + +Then he took hold of my hand and led me to my seat. And when I sat down +he put his hand on my shoulder just as softly,--it made me remember the +way my mother used to before she died, and, says he, "My dear boy," then +stopped and began again, "My dear boy," and stopped again. If he'd been +a boy I should have thought he was going to cry himself. But of course a +man wouldn't. And what should he cry for? It wasn't he that almost had a +whipping. At last he told me to come to his room after supper. Then +Bubby Short was called up to the platform. + +Now I will tell you how Bubby Short found out about it. + +He sleeps in a little bed in a little bit of a room that lets out of +Tom's. 'T isn't much bigger than a closet. But it is just right for him. +That morning when Tom got up so early and threw pebbles at me, Bubby +Short had been keeping awake with the toothache. And he heard Tom +telling another boy about the rabbit. + +He made believe sleep. But once, while Tom was dressing himself, he +peeped out from under the bedquilt, with one eye, to see a +black-and-blue spot, that Tom said he hit his head against a post and +made, when he was running. + +But they caught him peeping out, and were dreadful mad because he heard, +and said if he told one single word they would flog him. But he says he +would have told before, if he had known it had been laid to me. + +Wasn't he a nice little fellow to tell? + +O, I was so glad when the boys all clapped! And when we were let out, +they came and shook hands with Bubby Short and me. Great boys and all. +Mr. Augustus, and Dorry, and all. And the master told me how glad he was +that he could keep on thinking me to be an honest boy. + +Now aren't you glad you didn't feel sorry? + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +The next time I went down to the farm I was told, of course, all about +the foregoing letters,--how they were received, and what effect they +produced in the family when they were read. Grandmother, however, gives +a happy account of the reception and reading of them in the following +reply, which she wrote soon after they were received. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother's Letter to William Henry, in reply._ + +MY DEAR LITTLE BOY,-- + +Your poor old grandmother was so glad to get those letters, after such +long waiting! My dear child, we were anxious; but now we are pleased. I +was afraid you were down with the measles, for they're about. Your aunt +Phebe thinks you had 'em when you were a month old; but I know better. + +Your father was anxious himself at not hearing; though he didn't show it +any. But I could see it plain enough. As soon as he brought the letters +in, I set a light in the window to let your aunt Phebe know she was +wanted. She came running across the yard, all of a breeze. You know how +your aunt Phebe always comes running in. + +"What is it?" says she. "Letters from Billy? I mistrusted 't was letters +from Billy. In his own handwriting? Must have had 'em pretty light. +Measles commonly leave the eyes very bad." + +But you know how your aunt Phebe goes running on. Your father came in, +and sat down in his rocking-chair,--your mother's chair, dear. Your +sister was sewing on her doll's cloak by the little table. She sews +remarkably well for a little girl. + +"Now, Phebe," says I, "read loud, and do speak every word plain." I put +on my glasses, and drew close up, for she does speak her words so fast. +I have to look her right in the face. + +At the beginning, where you speak about being whipped, your father's +rocking-chair stopped stock still. You might have heard a pin drop. +Georgianna said, "O dear!" and down dropped the doll's cloak. "Pshaw!" +said Aunt Phebe, "'t isn't very likely our Billy's been whipped." + +Then she read on and on, and not one of us spoke. Your father kept his +arms folded up, and never raised his eyes. I had to look away, towards +the last, for I couldn't see through my glasses. Georgianna cried. And, +when the end came, we all wiped our eyes. + +"Now what's the use," said Aunt Phebe, "for folks to cry before they're +hurt?" + +"But you almost cried yourself," said Georgianna. "Your voice was +different, and your nose is red now." And that was true. + +After your sister was in bed, and Aunt Phebe gone, your father says to +me: "Grandma, the boy's like his mother." And he took a walk around the +place, and then went off to his bedroom without even opening his night's +paper. If ever a man set store by his boy, that man is your father. And, +O Billy, if you had done anything mean, or disgraced yourself in any +way, what a dreadful blow 't would have been to us all! + +The measles come with a cough. The first thing is to drive 'em out. Get +a nurse. That is, if you catch them. They're a natural sickness, and one +sensible old woman is better than half a dozen doctors. Saffron's good +to drive 'em out. + +Aunt Phebe is knitting you a comforter. As if she hadn't family enough +of her own to do for! + +From your loving + +GRANDMOTHER. + + * * * * * + +I think this the proper place to insert the following letter from Dorry +Baker to his sister. I am sorry we have so few of Dorry's letters. Two +very entertaining ones will be given presently, describing a visit Dorry +made to William Henry's home. The two boys, as we shall see, soon after +their acquaintance, grew to be remarkably good friends. Mr. Baker, +Dorry's father, hearing his son's glowing accounts of William Henry's +family, took a little trip to Summer Sweeting place on purpose to see +them, and was so well pleased with Grandmother, Mr. Carver, Uncle Jacob, +and the rest, as to suggest to his wife that they should buy some land +in the vicinity, and turn farmers. He and Grandmother had a very +pleasant talk about their boys; and not long after, knowing, I suppose, +that it would gratify the old lady, he sent her some of Dorry's letters, +that she might have the pleasure of reading for herself what Dorry had +written about her Billy, and about Billy's people and Billy's home. +Perhaps, too, Mr. Baker was a little bit proud of the smart letters his +son could write. + + * * * * * + +_Dorry's Letter to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +If mother's real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But +if it's baking-day, or washing-day, or company's coming off, or +preserves going on, or anything's upset down below; or if she's got a +headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that's bad,--then wait. + +I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Saturday. Not a +very big boy,--do very well to "Philopene" with you: won't put her out a +bit. + +If you don't like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came +we used to plague him on account of his looks. He's got a furious head +of hair, and freckles. But we don't think at all about his looks now. If +anything, we like his looks. + +He's just as pleasant and gen'rous, and not a mean thing about him. I +don't believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn't. +He's always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give +anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat +to make their side beat. You don't catch William Henry at any such mean +business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too. + +I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other +boys. + +One day he had a box come from home. 'T was his birthday. It was full of +good things. Says I to the boys, "Now, maybe, if we hadn't plagued him +so, he would give us some of his goodies." + +That very afternoon, when we had done playing, and ran up to brush the +mud off our trousers, we found a table all spread out with a table-cloth +that he had borrowed, and in the middle was a frosted cake with "W. H." +on top done in red sugar. And close to that were some oranges, and a +dish full of nuts, and as much as a pound of candy, and more figs than +that, and four great cakes of maple-sugar, made on his father's land, as +big as small johnny-cakes, and another kind of cake. And doughnuts. + +"Come, boys," says he, "help yourselves." + +But not a boy stirred. + +I felt my face a-blushing like everything. O, we were all of us just as +ashamed as we could be! We didn't dare go near the table. But he kept +inviting us, and at last began to pass them round. + +And I tell you the things were tip-top and more too. Such cake! And +doughnuts, that his cousin made! And tarts! You must learn how. But I +don't believe you ever could. Of course we had manners enough not to +take as much as we wanted. I want to tell you some more things about +him. But wait till I come. He's most as old as you are, and is always a +laughing, the same as you are. + +Ask mother what I told you. Take her at her cleverest, and don't eat up +all the sweet apples. + +From your brother, + +DORRY. + +P. S. Put some away in meal to mellow. Don't mellow 'em with your +knuckles. + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Baker, I imagine, was not particularly fond of boys. She gave her +permission, however, for Dorry to bring a "muddy-shoed" companion home +with him, as we see by the following letter from William Henry to his +grandmother. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from William Henry._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Dorry asked his sister to ask his mother if he might ask me to go home +with him. And she said yes; but to wait a week first, because the house +was just got ready to have a great party, and she couldn't stand two +muddy-shoed boys. May I go? + +Tom Cush was sent home; but he didn't go. His father lives in the same +town that Dorry does. He has been here to look for him. + +I never went to make anybody a visit. I hope you will say yes. I should +like to have some money. Everybody tells boys not to spend money; but +if they knew how many things boys want, and everything tasted so good, I +believe they would spend money themselves. Please write soon. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +To this short letter Grandmother sent at once the following reply; and +in the succeeding letters from William Henry we get a pretty good idea +of what sort of people Dorry's folks were, and also hear something about +Tom Cush. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother's Second Letter._ + +MY DEAR BOY,-- + +Do you have clothes enough on your bed? Ask for an extra blanket. I do +hope you will take care of yourself. When the rain beats against the +windows, I think, "Now who will see that he stands at the fire and dries +himself?" And you're very apt to hoarse up nights. We are willing you +should go to see Dorry. Your uncle J. has been past his father's place, +and he says there's been a pretty sum of money laid out there. Behave +well. Wear your best clothes. Your aunt Phebe has bought a book for her +girls that tells them how to behave. It is for boys too, or for anybody. +I shall give you a little advice, and mix some of the book in with it. + +Never interrupt. Some children are always putting themselves forward +when grown people are talking. Put "sir" or "ma'am" to everything you +say. Make a bow when introduced. If you don't know how, try it at a +looking-glass. Black your shoes, and toe out if you possibly can. I +hope you know enough to say "Thank you," and when to say it. Take your +hat off, without fail, and step softly, and wipe your feet. + +Be sure and have some woman look at you before you start, to see that +you are all right. Behave properly at table. The best way will be to +watch and see how others do. But don't stare. There is a way of looking +without seeming to look. A sideways way. + +Anybody with common sense will soon learn how to conduct properly; and +even if you should make a mistake, when trying to do your best, it isn't +worth while to feel very much ashamed. _Wrong_ actions are the ones to +be ashamed of. And let me say now, once for all, never be ashamed +because your father is a farmer and works with his hands. Your father's +a man to be proud of; he is kind to the poor; he is pleasant in his +family; he is honest in his business; he reads high kind of books; he's +a kind, noble Christian man; and Dorry's father can't be more than all +this, let him own as much property as he may. + +I mention this because young folks are apt to think a great deal more of +a man that has money. + +Your aunt Phebe wants to know if you won't write home from Dorry's, +because her Matilda wants a stamp from that post-office. If the colt +brings a very good price, you may get a very good answer to your riddle. + +From your loving + +GRANDMOTHER. + +P. S. Take your overcoat on your arm. When you come away, bid good by, +and say that you have had a good time. If you have had,--not without. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Reply._ + +DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I am here. The master let us off yesterday noon, and we got here before +supper, and this is Saturday night, and I have minded all the things +that you said. I got all ready and went down to the Two Betseys to let +some woman look at me, as you wrote. They put on both their spectacles +and looked me all over, and picked off some dirt-specks, and made me +gallus up one leg of my trousers shorter, and make some bows, and then +walk across the room slow. + +They thought I looked beautiful, only my hair was too long. Lame Betsey +said she used to be the beater for cutting hair, and she tied her apron +round my throat, and brought a great pair of shears out, that she used +to go a-tailoring with. The Other Betsey, she kept watch to see when +both sides looked even. + +Lame Betsey tried very hard. First she stood off to look, and then she +stood on again. She said her mother used to keep a quart-bowl on purpose +to cut her boys' hairs with; she clapped it over their heads, and then +clipped all round by it even. The shears were jolly shears, only they +couldn't stop themselves easy, and the apron had been where snuff was, +and made me sneeze in the wrong place. Says I, "If you'll only take off +this apron, I'll jump up and shake myself out even." I'm so glad I'm a +boy. Aprons are horrid. So are apron-strings, Dorry says. + +They gave me a few peppermints, and said to be sure not to run my head +out and get it knocked off in the cars, and not to get out till we +stopped going, and to beware of pickpockets. + +[Illustration] + +O, we did have a jolly ride in the cars! Do you think my father would +let me be the boy that sells papers in the cars? I wish he would. I +didn't see any pickpockets. We got out two miles before we got there. I +mean to the right station. For Dorry wanted to make his sister Maggie +think we hadn't come. + +We took a short cut through the fields. Not very short. And went through +everything. My best clothes too. But I guess 't will all rub off. There +were some boggy places. + +When we came out at Dorry's house, it was in the back yard. I said to +Dorry, "There's your mother on the doorstep. She looks clever." + +Dorry said, "She? She's the cook. I'll tell mother of that. No, I won't +neither." + +I suppose he saw I'd rather he wouldn't. The cook said everybody had +gone out. Then Dorry took me into a jolly great room and left me. Three +kinds of curtains to every window! What's the use of that? Gilt spots on +the paper, and gilt things hanging down from up above. A good many kinds +of chairs. I was going to sit down, but they kept sinking in. Everything +sinks in here. I tried three, and this made me laugh, for I seemed to +myself like the little boy that went to the bears' house and tried their +chairs, and their beds, and their bowls of milk. Then I came to a +looking-glass big enough for the very biggest bear. I thought I would +make some bows before it, as you said. I was afraid I couldn't make a +bow and toe out at the same time. Because it is hard to think up and +down both at once. While I was trying to, I heard a little noise, I +looked round, and--what do you think? Bears? O no. Not bears. A queen +and a princess, I thought. All over bright colors and feathers and shiny +silks. The queen--that's Dorry's mother you know,--couldn't think who I +was, because they had been to the depot, and thought we hadn't come. So +she looked at me hard, and I suppose I was very muddy. And she said, +"Were you sent of an errand here?" Before I could make up any answer, +Dorry came in. He had some cake, and he passed it round with a very +sober face. Then he introduced me, and I made quite a good bow, and +said, "Very well, I thank you, ma'am." + +I tried to pull my feet behind me, and wished I was sitting down, for +she kept looking towards them; and I wanted to sit down on the lounge, +but I was afraid 't wouldn't bear. She was quite glad to see Dorry. But +didn't hug him very hard. I know why. Because she had those good things +on. Dorry's grandmother lives here. She can't bear to hear a door slam. +She wears her black silk dress every day. And her best cap too. 'T is a +stunner of a cap. White as anything. And a good deal of white strings to +it. Everything makes her head ache. I'd a good deal rather have you. +When boys come nigh, she puts her hand out to keep them off. This is +because she has nerves. Dorry says his mother has 'em sometimes. I like +his father. Because he talks to me some. But he's very tired. His office +tires him. He isn't a very big man. He doesn't laugh any. If Maggie was +a boy she'd be jolly. She'll fly kites, or anything, if her mother isn't +looking. Her mother don't seem a bit like Aunt Phebe. I don't believe +she could lift a teakettle. Not a real one. When she catches hold of her +fork, she sticks her little finger right up in the air. She makes very +pretty bows to the company. Sinks way down, almost out of sight. She +gave us a dollar to spend; wasn't she clever? Dorry says she likes him +tip-top. If he'll only keep out of the way. + +I guess I'd rather live at our house. About every room in this house is +too good for a boy. But I tell you they have tip-top things here. Great +pictures and silver dishes! Now, I'll tell you what I mean to do when +I'm a man. I shall have a great nice house like this, and nice things in +it. But the folks shall be like our folks. I shall have horses, and a +good many silver dishes. And great pictures, and gilt books for children +that come a-visiting. And you shall have a blue easy-chair, and sit down +to rest. + +Now, maybe you'll say, "But, Billy, Billy, where are you going to get +all these fine things?" O you silly grandmother! Don't you remember your +own saying that you wrote down?--"What a man wants he can get, if he +tries hard enough." Or a boy either, you said. I shall try hard enough. +There's more to write about. But I'm sleepy. I would tell you about Tom +Cush's father coming here, only my eyes can't keep open. Isn't it funny +that when you are sleepy your eyes keep shutting up and your mouth keeps +coming open? Please excuse the lines that go crooked. There's another +gape! I guess Aunt Phebe will be tired reading all this. I'm on her +side. I mean about measles. I'd rather have 'em when I was a month old. +I suppose I was a month old once. Don't seem as if 't was the same one I +am now. But if I do have 'em,--there I go gaping again,--if I catch 'em, +and all the doctors do come, I'll--O dear! There I go again. I do +believe I'm asleep--I'll--I'll get some natural-born old woman to drive +'em out, as you said, and good night. + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I am back again, and had a good time; but came back hungry. I'll tell +you why. The first time I sat down to table I felt bashful, and Dorry's +mother said a great deal about my having a small appetite, and +afterwards I didn't like to make her think it was a large one. + +I guess I behaved quite well at the table. But I couldn't look the way +you said. It made me feel squint-eyed. Once I almost laughed at table. +The day they had roast duck, it smelt nice. I thought it wouldn't go +round, for they had company besides me; and I said, "No, I thank you, +ma'am." Dorry whispered to me, "You must be a goose not to love duck"; +and that was when I almost laughed at table. His grandmother shook her +head at him. + +Now I'll tell about Tom Cush's father. That Saturday, when we were +eating dinner, somebody came to the front door, and inquired for us +two,--Dorry and me. It was Tom Cush's father. He wanted to ask us about +Tom, and whether we knew anything about him. But we knew no more than he +did. He talked some with us. The next evening,--Sunday evening,--Tom +Cush's mother sent for Dorry and me to come and see her. His father came +after us. She said they wanted to know more about what I wrote to you in +those letters. + +O, I don't want ever again to go where the folks are so sober. The room +was just as still as anything, not much light burning, and great +curtains hanging way down, and she looked like a sick woman. Just as +pale! Only sometimes she stood up and walked, and then sat down again, +and leaned way forward, and asked a question, and looked into our faces +so. We didn't know what to do. Dorry talked more than I could. Tom's +father kept just as sober! He said to Dorry: "It is true, then, that my +boy wouldn't own up to his own actions?" or something like that. + +Dorry said, "Yes, sir." + +Tom's father said, "And he was willing to sit still and see another boy +whipped in his place?" + +"Yes, sir," Dorry said. But he didn't say it very loud. + +Then they stopped asking questions, and not one of us spoke for ever so +long. O, 't was so still! At last Dorry said, just as softly, "Can't you +find him anywhere?" And then I said that I didn't believe he was lost. + +Then Tom's father got up from his chair and said, "Lost? That's not it. +That's not it. 'T is his not being honorable! 'T is his not being true! +Lost? Why, he was lost before he left the school." Says he: "When he did +a mean thing, then he lost himself. For he lost his truth. He lost his +honor. There's nothing left worth having when they are gone." + +O, I never saw Dorry so sober as he was that night going home. And when +we went to bed, he hardly spoke a word, and didn't throw pillows, or +anything. I shut my eyes up tight and thought about you all at home, and +Aunt Phebe, and Aunt Phebe's little Tommy, and about school, and about +Bubby Short, and all the time Tom's mother's eyes kept looking at me +just as they did; and when I was asleep I seemed back again in that +lonesome room, and they two sitting there. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I want to tell that when I was at Dorry's I let a little vase fall +down and break. I didn't think it was so rotten. I felt sorry; but +didn't say so; I didn't know how to say it very well. I wish grown-up +folks would know that boys feel sorry very often when they don't say +so, and sometimes they think about doing right, too. And mean to, but +don't tell of it. Next time I shall tell about Bubby Short and me going +to ride in Gapper's donkey-cart. He's going to lend it to us. I should +like to buy them a new vase. + +W. H. + +P. S. Benjie's had a letter, and one twin fell down stairs. + + * * * * * + +There is one sentence in the first paragraph of the following letter +which reminds me of a very windy day, when I was staying at Summer +Sweeting place. + +In returning from a walk, by a short cut across the field, I met a boy +who was running just about as fast as he could. + +Soon after I came to another and much smaller boy, who was not running +at all, but was sitting flat upon the ground, under a tree, and crying +with might and main. This smaller boy proved to be Tommy. On a branch of +the tree, just out of his reach, hung a broom, towards which his weeping +eyes were turned in despair. A paper of peanuts which I happened to have +soon quieted him, because, in order to crack them, he had to shut his +mouth. At the first of it, however, he went on with his crying while +picking out the meats, which so amused me that I was obliged to turn +aside and laugh. + +It appeared that Tommy had been riding horseback on his mother's broom +"to see Billy," and when he had made believe get there, he wanted to +hitch his horse. A larger boy, out of mischief, or rather in mischief, +bent down a branch of the tree, telling Tommy there was a tiptop thing +to tie up to. He helped Tommy to tie the horse to the branch, and then +ran off across the field. It is very plain what happened when the branch +sprang back to its place. + +I unhitched the _animal_, and then Tommy and I mounted it, he behind me, +and away we cantered to the house, my amazing gallops causing the little +chap to laugh as loudly as he had cried. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Please to tell my sister I am much obliged to her for picking up that +old iron for me. But that old rusty fire-shovel handle, I guess that +will not do to put in again. For my father said, the last time, that he +had bought that old fire-shovel handle half a dozen times. But Aunt +Phebe's Tommy, he pulls it out again to ride horseback on. + +I know a little girl just about as big as my sister, named Rosy. Maybe +that is not her name. Maybe it is, because her face is so rosy. She had +a lamb. And she's lost it. It ate out of her hand, and it followed her. +It was a pet lamb. But it's lost. Gapper came up to inquire about it. +Mr. Augustus wrote a notice and nailed it on to the Liberty Pole, and +then Dorry chalked out a white lamb on black pasteboard, and painted a +blue ribbon around its neck, and hung that up there too. + +Gapper let Bubby Short and me have his donkey-cart to go to ride in. He +kicked up when we licked him, and broke something. But a man came by and +mended it. So we didn't get back till after dark. But the master didn't +say anything after we told the reason why. Did you ever see a ghost? Do +you believe they can whistle? I'll tell you what I ask such a question +for. + +There is an old house, and part of it is torn down, and nobody lives in +it. It is built close to where the woods begin. The boys say there is a +ghost in it. I'll tell you why. They say that if anybody goes by there +whistling, something inside of that house whistles the same tune. Dorry +says it's a jolly old ghost. Mr. Augustus thinks 'tis all very silly. +Now I'll tell you something. + +The night Bubby Short and I were coming back from taking a ride in +Gapper's donkey-cart, we tried it. We didn't dare to lick him again, for +fear he would kick up, so we rode just as slow!--and it was a lonesome +road, but the moon was shining bright. + +Says Bubby Short, "Do you believe that's the honeymoon?" + +"No," says I. "That's what shines when a man is married to his wife." + +"Are you scared of ghosts?" said Bubby Short. + +"Can't tell till I see one," says I. + +"How far off do you suppose they can see a fellow?" says he. + +Says I, "I don't know. They can see best in the dark." + +"Do you think they'd hurt a fellow?" says he. + +"Maybe," says I. "There's the old house." + +"I know it," says he; "I've been looking at it." + +Says I, "Are you scared to whistle?" + +"Scared! No," says he. "Let's whistle, I say." + +"Well," says I, "you whistle first." + +"No," says he, "you whistle first." + +"Let _him_ whistle first," says I. + +"He won't do it. Ghosts never whistle first," says he. + +I asked him who said that, and he said 't was Dorry. + +Then I said, "Let's whistle together." + +So we waited till we almost got past, and then whistled "Yankee Doodle." +And, grandmother, it did,--it whistled it. + +Bubby Short whispered, "Lick him a little." + +Then I whispered back, "'T won't do to. If I do, he won't go any." + +But in a minute he began to go faster of his own accord. He heard +somebody ahead calling. It was Gapper, coming to see what the matter was +that kept us so late. Now what do you think about it? + +From your affectionate + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. My boots leak. Shall I get them tapped, or get a new pair, or +throw them away, or else keep the legs to make new boots of? + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +Here we have William Henry trying his hand at story-telling. + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Sometimes Dorry writes stories in his letters for his sister, just as he +tells them to her, talking, at home. Now I'll write one for my sister, +and I'll call it by a name. I'll call it + + +THE STORY OF THE GREAT STORM. + +Once there was a little boy named Billy, and Gapper lent him his donkey +to go ride. That's me, you know. Next day Gapper came and said, "You +boys lost my whip." Now I remembered having the whip when we crept in +among the bushes,--for we got sight of a woodchuck, and came near +finding his hole. So when school was done at noon, I asked leave to put +some bread and meat in my pocket, instead of eating any dinner, and go +to look for Gapper's whip. And he said I might. 'T was two miles off. +But I found it. And I dug for a good deal of saxifax-root. And picked +lots of boxberry-plums. + +And I never noticed how the sky looked, till I heard a noise something +like thunder. It was very much like thunder. Almost just like it. I +thought it was thunder. Only it sounded a great ways off. I was walking +along slow, snapping my whip and eating my dinner, for I thought I +wouldn't hurry for thunder, when something hard dropped down close to +me. Then another dropped,--and then another. And they kept dropping. I +picked one up and found they were hailstones, and they were bigger than +bullets. + +It kept growing dark, and the hailstones came thicker, and hit me in the +face. Then they began to pour right down, and I ran. They beat upon me +just like a driving storm all of sharp stones. The horses and cows cut +across the fields like mad. The horses flung up their heads. I was +almost to that old house and ran for that, and kicked the door through +to get in, for I thought I should be killed with the hail. The shingles +off the roof were flying about; and when I got inside, 't was awful. I +thought to be sure the roof would be beat in. Such a noise! It sounded +just exactly as if a hundred cartloads of stones were being tipped up on +to the roof. And then the window-glass! It was worse than being out +doors, for the window-glass was flying criss-cross about the room, like +fury, all mixed up with the hail. I crouched down all in a bunch and put +my arms over my head, and so tried to save myself. But then I spied a +closet door a crack open, and I jumped in there. And there I sat all +bent over with my hands up to my ears, and thought, O, what would become +of me if the old house should go? And now the strangest part is coming. +You see 't was a pretty deep closet--School-bell! I didn't think 't was +half time for that to ding. I'll tell the rest next time. Should you +care if I brought home Dorry to make a visit? He wants to bad. 'T would +be jolly if Bubby Short went too. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Everybody's been setting glass. Counting the house and the school-house, +and the panes set over the barn door, and four squares in the hen-house, +we had to set four hundred and twenty-three squares. The express-man has +brought loads and loads. All the great boys helped set. We slept one +night with bedquilts and rugs hung up to the windows. The master tried +to shut his blind in the storm, but the hail drove him in, and he +couldn't even shut down his window again. A rich man has given to the +Two Betseys better windows than they had before. Now I will tell about +my being in that closet. + +When it began to grow stiller, I took my hands down from my ears, and +one hand when it came down touched something soft. Quite soft and warm. +I jumped off from it in a hurry. Then I heard a kind of bleating noise, +and a little faint "ba'a ba'a." But now comes the very strangest part. +Farther back in the closet I heard somebody move, somebody step. I was +scared, and gave the door a push, to let the light in. Now who do you +think was there? Aunt Phebe must stop reading and let you guess. But +maybe you're reading yourself. Then stop and guess. 'T wasn't a ghost. +'T wasn't a man. 'T wasn't a woman. 'T was Tom Cush! and Rosy's lamb! + +Says he, "William Henry!" Says I, "Tom!" Then we walked out into the +room, and O, what a sight! Says I, "I thought 't was going to be the end +of the old house." + +Says Tom, "I thought 't was going to be the end of the world." + +In the corners the hailstones were heaped up in great banks. You might +have shovelled up barrels full. Most of them were the size of bird's +eggs. But some were bigger. Then we looked out doors. The ground was all +white, and drifts in every cornering place, and the leaves stripped off +the trees. Then we looked at one another, and he was just as pale as +anything. He leaned against the wall, and I guessed he was crying. To +see such a great boy crying seemed most as bad as the hailstorm. Maybe +he didn't cry. When he turned his head round again, says he: "Billy, I'm +sick, and what shall I do?" + +"Go home," says I. + +"No," says he, "I won't go home. And if you let 'em know, I'll--" And +then he picked up Gapper's whip,--"I'll flog you." + +"Flog away," says I; "maybe I shall, and maybe I sha' n't." + +He dropped the whip down, and says he, "Billy, I sha' n't ever touch +you. But they mustn't know till I'm gone to sea." + +I asked him when he was going. And he told me all about it. + +When he was sent away from school, he went into town and inquired about +the wharves for a chance to go, and got one, and came back to get some +things he left hid in the old house, and to wait till 't was time to go. +He sold his watch, and bought a great bag full of hard bread and cheese +and cakes. + +He was mad at Gapper for setting a man to watch, and so he took Rosy's +lamb. He was going to kill it. And then skin it. But he couldn't do it. +It licked his hand, and looked up so sorryful, he couldn't do it. And +when he cut his foot--he cut it chopping something. That's why he stayed +there so long. And he was the ghost that whistled. He knew the fellows +wouldn't go in to see what it was that whistled. And he ate up most all +his things, and tied a string to the lamb, and let it out nights to eat +grass, and then pulled it in again. + +I wouldn't have stayed there so for anything. He went into town three +times, nights, to get victuals to eat. I don't see what he wants to be +such a kind of a boy for. He says he means to go to sea, and if ever +he's good he's going home. I told him about his father and mother, and +he walked while I was talking, and kept his back towards me. I asked him +what ailed him, and he said 't was partly cutting him, and partly +sleeping cold nights, and partly the crackers and cheese. I gave him the +rest of my meat, and he was glad enough. + +He said he was ashamed to go home. + +Now I have got to the end of another sheet of paper. I wish I hadn't +begun to tell my sister this story. It takes so long. And I want every +minute of the time to play in. For 't is getting a little cooler, and a +fellow can stand it to run some. The master says it's good weather for +studying. Dorry says he never saw any weather yet good enough for +studying. I shall write a very short letter next time, to tell the rest +of it. + +From your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I forgot to put this letter in the office. I guess I will not +write any more letters till I go home. I was going to tell more, but I +can do it better talking. I went to see Tom Cush the next day, and he +had gone. Rosy's got her lamb back again. But her flower-garden was +killed by the hail. Not one leaf left. She found her lamb on the +doorstep, waiting to get in. + + * * * * * + +We have next a letter from Aunt Phebe, a dear, good-hearted woman, who +took almost a mother's interest in William Henry. Indeed, I have heard +her remark, that she hardly knew any difference between her feelings for +him and for her own children. + +Some of her letters will be found to contain good advice, given in a +very amusing way. + + * * * * * + +_Letter from Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +You rogue, you! I meant to have written before. You've frightened us all +to pieces with your ghost that wasn't a ghost, and your whipping that +wasn't a whipping, and your measles that you didn't have. Grandmother +may talk, but she's losing her memory. You were red as a beet with 'em. +As if I didn't carry you about all night and go to sleep walking! + +Grandmother says, "Yes, indeed! bring Dorry, and let him stay a week if +he wants to." Bless her soul! She'll always keep her welcome warm, so +never mind her memory. And Bubby Short, too. Pray bring Bubby Short. I +want to see his black eyes shine. Don't Benjie want to come? I've got +beds enough, and girls enough to work, and a great batch of poor +mince-pies that I want eaten up. Don't see how I came to make such a +miss in my pies this baking. Your uncle J. thinks I skinched on plums. +There never was such a man for plums. I do believe if they were put into +his biscuits he'd think he'd got no more than his rights. + +Your uncle J. says: "Tell the boys to come on. I've got apples to +gather, and husking to do." They'd better bring some old clothes to +wear. This is such a tearing place. I've put my Tommy into jacket and +trousers. He used to hitch his clothes upon every rail. Such a climber! +I don't know what that boy'll be when he grows up. + +I send you a good warm comforter, knit in stripes; and all the family +are knit into it, especially Tommy. The pink stripes are his good-boy +days, and the black ones are his naughty actions. I showed him where I +knit 'em in. That clouded gray and black stripe is for my two great +girls quarrelling together about whose work 't was to do some little +trifle. I told 'em they should be knit in, big as they are, if they +couldn't behave and be accommodating. That bright red stripe is for +Hannah Jane's school report, all perfect. That blue stripe is for your +sister Georgianna when she made a sheet. It matches her eyes as near as +I could get the yarn. My blue dye is weak this fall. Indigo is high. +Your uncle J. says it's on account of the Rebs feeling so blue. That +gray stripe, dotted with yellow, means a funny crying spell Tommy had at +table. I came home, and there he sat in his high chair, with his two +hands on the arms of it, his mouth wide open, eyes shut, and the tears +streaming down, making the dolefullest noise,--"O-oh, a-ah; o-oh, a-ah." +Lucy Maria said he'd been going on in that strain almost half an hour, +because we didn't have mince-meat for supper. That green stripe is for +the day we all took the hay-cart and went to ride in the woods. The +orange-colored one is for the box of oranges your uncle J. fetched home. +"A waste of money," says I. "Please the children," says he; "and the +peel will save spice." Makes me laugh when your uncle J. sets out to +save. My girls and Tommy have got the very best of fathers, only they +don't realize it. But young folks can't realize. The pale rose-colored +stripe is for the travelling doctor's curing your grandmother's +rheumatics, and promising she never should have another touch of 'em if +she was careful. The dark red stripe is for the red cow's getting choked +to death with a turnip. She was a prime butter cow. Any man but your +uncle J. would look sober for a month about it. But he says, "O, there's +butter enough in the world, Phebe. And the calf will soon be a cow on +its own hook." That's your uncle J. + +The plain dark purple stripe is for my Matilda's speaking +disrespectfully to grandmother. She was sorry enough afterwards, but I +told her it should go in. That bright yellow stripe is for the day your +father went to market and got such a great price for his colt. The +bright fringe, mixed colors, is for us all in both houses, when we got +news of your coming home, and felt so glad. There's a stitch dropped in +one place. That may go for a tear-drop,--a tear of mine, dear, if you +please. Do you think we grown-up women, we jolly, busy women, never shed +tears? O, but we do sometimes, in an out-of-the-way corner, or when the +children are all gone to school, or everybody is in bed. Bitterer tears +they are, Billy, than boys' tears. One more stripe, that plain white one +in the centre, is for the little Tommy that died. I couldn't bear to +leave him out, Billy. He had such little loving ways. You don't remember +him. + +There's your uncle J.'s whistle. He always whistles when he gets to the +bars, to let me know it's time to begin to take up dinner. + +From your loving + +AUNT PHEBE. + + * * * * * + +I will insert here two of Dorry Baker's letters to his sister. When they +were written Dorry and Bubby Short were making William Henry a visit. + +_Dorry to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +Who's been giving you an inch, that you take so many "l's"? Or is father +putting an "L" to his house, or some great "LL. D." been dining there, +or what is the matter, that about every "l" in your letter comes double? +I wouldn't spell "painful" with two "l's" if the pain was ever so bad. +But I know. You are thinking about Billy and the good times we are +having. Aunt Phebe says you might have come too, just as well as not; +for her family is so big, three or four more don't make a mite of +difference. + +We got here last night. Billy's grandmother's a brick. She took Billy +right in her arms, and I do believe she cried for being glad, behind her +spectacles. His sister is full as pretty as you. Billy brought her a +round comb. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's as fat as butter. He sat and +sucked his thumb and stared, till Billy held out a whistle to him, and +then he walked up and took it, as sober as a judge. + +"And I've brought you something, Grandmother," says Billy. + +He went out and brought in a bandbox tied up. I wondered, coming in the +cars, what he had got tied up in that bandbox. He out with his +jack-knife, and cut the strings, and took out--have you guessed yet? Of +course you haven't,--took out a new cap like grandma's. He stuck his +fist in it, and turned it round and round, to let her see it. + +"Now sit down," says he, "and we'll try it on." + +She wouldn't, but he made her. + +"Come here, Dorry," says he, "and see which is the front side of this." + +When her old cap was pulled off, there was her gray hair all soft and +crinkly. He got the cap part way on. + +"You tip it down too much," says I. + +"We'll turn it round," says he. + +"'T is upside down," said Billy's father. + +"Now 't is one-sided," says Uncle J., "like the colt's blinders." + +"'T was never meant for my head," says Grandmother. + +"Send for Phebe," says Uncle J. + +[Illustration] + +But "Phebe" was coming. There was a great chattering outside, and the +door opened, and in came Aunt Phebe, laughing, and her three great girls +laughing too, with their red cheeks, and their great braids of hair tied +up in red bow-knots of ribbon. And they all went to kissing Billy. + +And then says Aunt Phebe, "What in the world are you doing to your +grandmother? A regular milliner's cap, if I breathe! Well done, +Grandmother! Here, let me give it a twist. It's hind side before. What +do boys know? or men either? What are all these kinds of strings for?" + +"The great ones to hang down, and the little ones to tie up," says +Billy. + +The girls stood by to pick the bows apart, and fuzz up the ruffles where +they were smashed in; and Billy's father and Uncle Jacob, they sat and +laughed. + +Grandmother couldn't help herself, but she kept saying, "Now, Phebe! +now, girls! now, Billy!" + +"And now, grandmother!" says Aunt Phebe. "There! fold your hands +together. Don't lean back hard, 't will jam easy. Now see, girls! Isn't +she a beauty?" And, Maggie, I do believe she's the prettiest grandmother +there is going. Her face is just as round and smiling! + +"Now sit still, Grandmother," said Aunt Phebe. And she winked to the +girls, and they whisked two tables up together, spread on the cloth, set +on the dishes; then out into the entry, and brought in great loaves of +plum-cake, and pies and doughnuts, and set out the table,--all done +while you'd be tying your shoe. Then they set a row of lights along the +middle, and we all sat round,--Grandmother at the head, and Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy in his high chair; and I'll tell you what, if these +are poor mince-pies, I hope I shall never see any good ones. + +"Why didn't you have some fried eggs?" said Uncle Jacob. + +"Now did anybody ever hear the like?" said Aunt Phebe. "Fried eggs! when +they're shedding their feathers, and it takes seventy-six fowls to lay a +dozen, and every egg is worth its weight in currency! Better ask why we +don't have cranberry sauce!" + +"There!" says Uncle J. "I declare, if I didn't forget that errand, after +all!" + +"When I told you to keep saying over 'Cranberries, cranberries,' all the +way going along!" says Aunt Phebe. + +"They would 'a' set my teeth on edge before I got to Ne'miah's corner," +said Uncle J. "The very thoughts of 'em is enough. Lucy Maria, please to +pass that frosted cake. I declare, I'm sorry I forgot that errand." + +For all we were so hungry, there was a great deal left, and I was glad +to see it going into Billy's buttery. Billy says it's just like his aunt +Phebe to come to supper, and make that an excuse to bring enough to last +a week, to save Grandmother steps. + +I do like to stay where folks are jolly. They keep me a-laughing; and as +for Bubby Short, his little black eyes have settled themselves into a +twinkle, and there they stay. I never had such a good time in my life. + +From your same old brother, + +DORRY. + +P. S. We have got good times enough planned out to last a month. Uncle +J. says we may have his old horse, and Young Gray, and Dobbin, and the +cow too, if we want, to ride horseback on, or tackle up into anything we +can find, from a hay-cart to a wheelbarrow. I shall want to write, but +sha' n't. There'll be no time. When I get home, I'll talk a week. + +Love to all inquiring friends. + + * * * * * + +Maggie could have formed but little idea of the nature of the offer +mentioned in Dorry's postscript, because she had never, at that time, +stood on the spot and seen with her own eyes all the "wheel-ed things" +that were to be seen in Uncle Jacob's back-yard. + +How gladly would I, if space permitted, go into a minute description of +that roomy enclosure, with its farming implements, garden tools, cattle, +pump, fowls, watering-trough, grindstone, woodpile, haystack, etc., and +carryalls, carts, wagons, wheelbarrows, roller-carts, and tip-carts, +some in good repair, others very far out of it! "Entertainment for man +and beast" might truly have been written over the entrance! + +Mother Delight (an old nurse-woman) once remarked of Uncle Jacob, that +he was a very _buying man_. This was a true remark, and yet he never +bought without a reason. For instance, if Quorm (a Corry Pond Indian) +brought bushel-baskets along to sell, Uncle Jacob took one, not because +he had not bushel-baskets enough, but to encourage Quorm. And if Old +Pete Brale wanted to let Uncle Jacob have an infirm, rickety wagon, and +take his pay in potatoes, Uncle Jacob traded, that Pete Brale might be +kept from starvation. And so of other things. + +It may be imagined, therefore, that as time went on all manner of +vehicles were there gathered together. Some of these were in good +running order, while others had been bought partly with a view to their +being repaired and sold at a profit. The expression on Aunt Phebe's face +when Uncle Jacob brought home an addition to his interesting collection +was very striking. I remember particularly observing this at the coming +into harbor of a rattling, shackly, green-bottomed carryall, which had a +door at the back, and seats running lengthwise. It formerly belonged to +some person who, having then a large family of small children to get to +meeting, contrived a conveyance which would take in and discharge again +the greatest number with the least trouble. + +In this odd vehicle, which had been run under an overhanging apple-tree, +I often sat through the summer afternoon, now reading my book, now +watching the animal life about me, gaining useful knowledge from both. +Sometimes, when feeling like a boy again,--as I often did and do +feel,--I would amuse myself with playing _go to ride_ in a comical old +chaise. It was set high, and pitched forward, the lining was ragged, the +back "light" gone, the stuffing running out of the cushions; yet there I +liked to sit, and "ride," and joggle up and down, as in the happy days +of boyhood. But not, as in those happy days, "hard as I could," for +reasons easy to guess. + +I trust no one will imagine that spacious yard to have been merely a +sort of safe anchorage, where all manner of disabled craft might run in +for shelter! Lest any words of mine should imply this, or seem to cast +blame on Uncle Jacob, let me hasten to say that he really required a +variety of "wheel-ed things" to carry on his business. + +Neither of the Mr. Carvers got their living wholly, or even chiefly, by +farming. They drew wood from lots owned by themselves, or by others, and +used their teams in any way, according as employment was offered them. +Thus heavy carts were wanted for heavy work, and light carts for light +work, besides carryalls for dry and for rainy weather, and riding +wagons, because they were handy. + +For all the Summer Sweeting folks were hard workers, they knew how to +get up a good time, and enjoyed it too, as we shall see by the account +of one which Dorry gives in the following letter:-- + + * * * * * + +_Dorry to his Sister._ + +DEAR SIS,-- + +O, we've hurrahed and hurrahed and hurrahed ourselves hoarse! Such a +bully time! You'd better believe the old horses went some! And that +hay-cart went rattle and bump, rattle and thump,--seemed as if we should +jolt to pieces! But I've counted myself all over, and believe I'm all +here! Bubby Short's throat is so sore that all he can do is to lie flat +on the floor and wink his eyes. You see we cheered at every house, and +they came running to their windows, and some cheered back again, and +some waved and some laughed, and all of them stared. But part of the way +was through the woods. + +This morning Billy and Bubby Short and I went over to Aunt Phebe's of an +errand, to borrow a cup of dough. I wish mother could see how her stove +shines! And while we were sitting down there, having some fun with Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy, Uncle Jacob came in and said, "Mother, let's go +somewhere." + +She said, "Thank you! thank you! we shall be very happy to accept your +invitation. Girls, your father has given us an invitation! Boys, he +means you too!" + +"But you can't go,--can you?" Uncle Jacob cried out, and made believe he +didn't know what to make of it. O, he's such a droll man! "I thought +you couldn't leave the ironing," says he. + +"O yes, we can!" Hannah Jane said; and "O yes, we can!" they all cried +out. + +Aunt Phebe said it would be entirely convenient, and told her girls to +shake out the sprinkled clothes to dry. + +"O, now," said Uncle Jacob, "who'd have thought of your saying 'yes.' I +expected you couldn't leave." + +Then they kept on talking and laughing. O, they are all so funny here! +Uncle Jacob tried to get off without going; but at last he said, "Well, +boys, we must catch Old Major." + +That's the old gray horse, you know. And we were long enough about it. +For, just as we got him into a corner, he'd up heels, and away he'd go. +And once he slapped his tail right in my face. But after a while we got +him into the barn. + +Then pretty soon Uncle Jacob put on a long face, and looked very sober, +and put his head in at the back kitchen door, and said he guessed we +should have to give up going, after all, for the mate to Old Major had +got to be shod, and the blacksmith had gone away. + +"Harness in the colt, then," Aunt Phebe said. "No matter about their +matching, if we only get there!" + +That colt is about twenty years old. He's black, and short, and takes +little stubby steps; and he's got a shaggy mane, that goes flop, flop, +flop every step he takes. But Old Major is bony, and has a long neck, +like the nose of a tunnel. Such a span as they made! What would my +mother say to see that span! + +They were harnessed in to the hay-cart. A hay-cart is a long cart that +has stakes stuck in all round it. We put boards across for benches. Aunt +Phebe brought out a whole armful of quite small flags, that they had +Independent Day, and we tied one to the end of every stake. + +Such a jolly time as we did have getting aboard! First all the baskets +and pails full of cake and pies were stowed away under the benches, and +jugs of water, and bottles of milk, and a hatchet, and some boiled eggs, +and apples and pears. Then uncle called out, "Come! where is everybody? +Tumble in! tumble in! Where's little Tommy?" + +Then we began to look about and to call "Tommy!" "Tommy!" "Tommy!" At +last Bubby Short said, "There he is, up there!" We all looked up, and +saw Tommy's face part way through a broken square of glass--I mean where +the glass was broken out. He said he couldn't "tum down, betause the +_roosted_ was on his feets." You see, he'd got his feet tangled up in +Lucy Maria's worsteds. + +"O dear!" Lucy Maria said; "all that shaded pink!" + +When they brought him down, Uncle Jacob looked very sober, and said, +"Why, Tommy! Did you get into all that shaded pink?" + +"Didn't get in _all_ of it," said Tommy. Then he told us he was taking +down the "gimmerlut to blower a hole with." Next he began to cry for his +new hat; and when he got his new hat, he began to cry for a posy to be +stuck in it. That little fellow never will go anywhere without a flower +stuck in his hat. Aunt Phebe says his grandmother began that notion +when her damask rosebush was in bloom. + +After we were all aboard, Uncle Jacob brought out the teakettle, and +slung it on behind with a rope. He said maybe mother would want a cup of +tea. Then they laughed at him, for he is the tea-drinker himself. Next +he brought out a long pan. + +"Now that's my cookie-pan!" Aunt Phebe said. "You don't cook clams in my +cookie-pan!" + +He made believe he was terribly afraid of Aunt Phebe, and trotted back +with it just like a little boy, and then came bringing out an old +sheet-iron fireboard. + +"Is this anybody's cookie-pan?" said he, then stowed it away in the +bottom of the cart. Bubby Short wanted to know what that was for. + +"That's for the clams," Uncle Jacob said. + +But we couldn't tell whether he meant so. We never can tell whether +Uncle Jacob is funning or not. I haven't told you yet where we were +bound. We were bound to the shore. That's about six miles off. The last +thing that Uncle Jacob brought out was a stick that had strips of paper +tied to the end of it. + +"That's my flyflapper!" Aunt Phebe said. "What are you going to do with +my flyflapper?" + +He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy's face. Tommy is a +tip-top little chap; but he's apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to +drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and +then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he +fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the +snarls off his face, and say, "There they go! Pick 'em up! pick 'em +up!" And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the +back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and +they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But +first he stood on his head, for 't was quite a sandy place. I drove part +of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn't hurrah any going. Some men +that we met would laugh and call out, "What'll you take for your span?" +And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, "How are +_you_, teakettle?" I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that +ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw +Billy's father coming, bringing Billy's grandmother in a horse and +chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn't +come. + +When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for +there wasn't a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to +us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I +carried the bucket. Isn't it funny that clams live in the mud? How do +you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle +Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the +mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon +got the bucket full. + +Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up +sticks and bits of boards. "Bring them where you see a smoke rising," +says he. + +O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet! +Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in a good way, and put his iron +fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams +on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of +anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard! + +And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the +teakettle, and made a fire under it,--to make a cup of tea for mother, +he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the +teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side +where the wind wouldn't blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy's +grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions, +and shawls all over her, and Billy's father read things out of the +newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn't +work. + +It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter +the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed +round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to +have shingles. You'd better believe those clams tasted good! Then all +the other things were passed round. O, I don't believe any other woman +can make things as good as Aunt Phebe's! Georgianna had a frosted +plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle +Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked +Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,--a great deal +better than Aunt Phebe's girls. Then Georgianna would say, "O, I know +you! you want my frosted cake!" Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips +together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps +every body a-laughing, even Billy's grandmother. He was just as clever +to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,--Aunt Phebe +don't carry her good dishes, they get broken so,--and shocked out the +clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you'll get +a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. 'T was fun +to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little +pools of water. And I found lots of _blanc-mange_ moss. We boys ran ever +so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn't very cold. + +When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart +pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand, +and blew it off on the water. Billy said, "Now the fishes can have a +pocket-handkerchief." And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been +in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got 'em sopping wet. +Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the +shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave +us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle +Jacob hadn't any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his +arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the +boat clapped. + +O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and +rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped +squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live +fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I +suppose you don't believe that! But it's true, for I've seen them. In +the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don't go to work and +build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees, +and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to +go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny, +something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And +every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a +real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my +squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got +quite close up,--near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to +run! + +Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a +house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to +their windows to look, for there isn't much travelling on that road. O, +I'm so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I'm sorry we've got home, I +wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over +at Aunt Phebe's. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us +to come over. Bubby Short's jumped up. He says his throat feels better +now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, +sis. This letter is from your + +BROTHER DORRY. + + + * * * * * + +I remember what they were clapping about. It happened that I came out +from the city that day. The weather was so fine, I felt as if I must +take one more look at the country, before winter came and spoiled every +bright leaf and flower. I think the flowers and leaves seem very +precious in the fall, when we know frost is waiting to kill them. + +It was quite a disappointment to find the people all gone, and I was +glad enough when at last the old hay-cart came rattling down the lane. +Such a jolly set as they were! I jumped them out at the back of the +cart. + +That little Tommy was always such a funny chap. Just like his father for +all the world. When the girls took their things off, he got himself into +an old sack, and then tied on one of his mother's checked aprons, and +began to parade round. When Lucy Maria saw him she took him up stairs +and put more things on him, and dressed him up for Mother Goose. I don't +know when I've seen anything so droll. They put skirts on him, till they +made him look like a little fat old woman. He had a black silk +handkerchief pinned over his shoulders, and a ruffle round his neck, and +an old-fashioned, high-crowned nightcap on. Then spectacles. They put a +peaked piece of dough on the end of his nose, to make it look like a +hooked nose, and then set him down in the arm-chair. He kept sober as a +judge. Bubby Short laughed till he tumbled down and rolled himself +across the floor. Lucy Maria sent us out of the room to see something in +the yard, and when we came back, there was a little old man with his hat +on, and a cane, sitting opposite Mother Goose. He was made of a +stuffed-out overcoat, trousers with sticks of wood in them, and boots. +"That is Father Goose," Lucy Maria said. Then Bubby Short had to tumble +down again; and this time he rolled way through the entry, out on the +doorstep! + +Then came such a pleasant evening! Aunt Phebe said 't was a pity for +Grandmother to go to getting supper, they might as well all come over. +Where anybody had to boil the teakettle and set the table, half a dozen +more or less didn't matter much. + +So we all ate supper together, and it seemed to me I never did get into +such a jolly set! Uncle Jacob and Aunt Phebe were so funny that we could +hardly eat. And in the evening--But 't is no use. If I begin to tell, +and tell all I want to, there won't be any room left for the letters. + + +Now comes quite a gap in the correspondence. There must have been many +letters written about this time, which were, unfortunately not +preserved. The next in order I find to be a short epistle from Bubby +Short, written, it would seem, soon after the winter holidays. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from Bubby Short._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +My mother is all the one that I ever wrote a letter to before. So excuse +poor writing, and this pen isn't a very good pen to write with I bet. I +am very sorry that you can't come back quite yet. I hope that it won't +be a fever that you are going to have. Does your grandma think that 't +is going to be a fever? Do you take bitter medicine? I never had a +fever. I take little pills every time I have anything. My mother likes +little pills best now. But she used to make me take bitter stuff. Once +she put it in my mouth and I wouldn't swallow it down. Then she pinched +my nose together and it made me swallow it down. Once I ate up all the +little pills out of the bottle, and she was very scared about it. It +wasn't very full. But the doctor said that it wouldn't hurt me any if I +did eat them. How many presents did you have? I had five. Dorry he says +he hopes that it won't be a slow fever that you are going to have if you +do have any fever, for he wants you to hurry and come back. Some new +fellows have come. One is a tip-top one. And one good "pitcher." I hope +you will come back very soon, 'cause I like you very much. + +Do you know who 't is writing? I am that one all you fellers call + +BUBBY SHORT. + + * * * * * + +As may be gathered from the foregoing letter, William Henry did not go +back to school with the rest. He was taken ill just at the close of +vacation, and remained at home until spring. Grandmother said it was +such a comfort that it didn't happen away. And it seemed to me that this +thought really made her enjoy his being sick at home. + +Indeed, the people at Summer Sweeting place seemed ready to get +enjoyment from everything, even from gruel, which is usually considered +flat. I passed a day there at a time when William Henry was subsisting +on this very simple but wholesome food. Aunt Phebe and Uncle Jacob came +in to take tea at grandmother's. The old lady was bringing out her nice +things to set on the table, when Aunt Phebe said suddenly, I suppose +seeing a hungry look in Billy's eyes. She said,-- + +"Now, Grandmother, I wouldn't bring those out. Let's have a gruel +supper, and all fare alike! We'll make it in different ways,--milk +porridge, oatmeal, corn-starch,--and I think 't will be a pleasant +change." + +"Gruel is very nourishing, well made," said Grandmother; "but what will +Mr. Fry say?" + +"Mr. Fry will say," I answered, "that milk porridge, with Boston +crackers, is a dish fit for a king." + +"I'm afraid Jacob won't think he's been to supper," said Grandmother. + +"O yes," said Uncle Jacob, "I'll think I have at any rate. But I like +mine the way the man in the moon did his, or part of the way." + +"Yes," said Aunt Phebe, "I understand! The last part--the 'plum' part!" + +"O, don't all eat gruel for me," said Billy. "Course I sha' n't be a +baby, and cry for things!" + +But Aunt Phebe seemed resolved to develop the gruel idea to its utmost. +She made all kinds,--Indian meal, oatmeal, corn-starch, flour, mixed +meals, wheat; made it sweetened, and spiced with plums, and plain. One +kind, that she called "thickened milk," was delicious. "Course" we had +one cup of tea, and bread and butter, and I can truly say that I have +eaten many a worse supper than a "gruel supper." + +Here is a letter from William Henry to Dorry, written when he began to +get well:-- + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter to Dorry._ + +DEAR DORRY,-- + +I'm just as hungry as anything, now, about all the time. My grandmother +says she's so glad to see me eat again; and so am I glad to eat myself. +Things taste better than they did before. Maybe I shall come back to +school again pretty soon, my father says; but my grandmother guesses not +very, because she thinks I should have a relapse if I did. A relapse is +to get sick when you're getting well; and, if I should get sick again, O +what should I do! for I want to go out-doors. If they'd only let me go +out, I'd saw wood all day, or anything. There isn't much fun in being +sick, I tell you, Dorry; but getting well, O, that's the thing! I tell +you getting well's jolly! I have very good things sent to me about every +day, and when I want to make molasses candy my grandmother says yes +every time, if she isn't frying anything in the spider herself; and then +I wait and whistle to my sister's canary-bird, or else look out the +window. But she tells me to stand a yard back, because she says cold +comes in the window-cracks: and my uncle Jacob he took the yardstick one +day, and measured a yard, and put a chalk mark there, where my toes +must come to, he said. If I hold the yardstick a foot and a half up from +the floor, my sister's kitty can jump over it tip-top. My sister has +made a Red-Riding-Hood cloak for her kitty, and a muff to put her fore +paws in, and takes her out. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Yesterday Uncle Jacob came into the house and said he had brought a +carriage to carry me over to Aunt Phebe's; and when I looked out it +wasn't anything but a wheelbarrow. My grandmother said I must wrap up, +for 't was the first time; so she put two overcoats on me, and my +father's long stockings over my shoes and stockings, and a good many +comforters, and then a great shawl over my head so I needn't breathe the +air; and 't was about as bad as to stay in. Uncle Jacob asked her if +there was a Billy in that bundle, when he saw it. "Hallo, in there!" +says he. "Hallo, out there!" says I. Then he took me up in his arms, and +carried me out, and doubled me up, and put me down in the wheelbarrow, +and threw the buffalo over me; but one leg got undoubled, and fell out, +so I had to drag my foot most all the way. Aunt Phebe undid me, and set +me close to the fire; and Lucy Maria and the rest of them brought me +story-books and picture-papers; and Tommy, he kept round me all the +time, making me whittle him out little boats out of a shingle, and we +had some fun sailing 'em in a milk-pan. Aunt Phebe had chicken broth for +dinner, and I had a very good appetite. She let me look into all her +closets and boxes, and let me open all her drawers. But I had to have a +little white blanket pinned on when I went round, because she was afraid +her room wasn't kept so warm as my grandmother's. Soon as Uncle Jacob +came in and saw that little white blanket he began to laugh. "So Aunt +Phebe has got out the _signal of distress_," says he. He calls that +blanket the "signal of distress," because when any of them don't feel +well, or have the toothache or anything, she puts it on them. She says +he shall have to wear it some time, and I guess he'll look funny, he's +so tall, with it on. The fellers played base-ball close to Aunt Phebe's +garden. I tell you I shall be glad enough to get out-doors. I tell you +it isn't much fun to look out the window and see 'em play ball. But +Uncle Jacob says if the ball hit me 't would knock me over now. Aunt +Phebe was just as clever, and let me whittle right on the floor, and +didn't care a mite. And we made corn-balls. But the best fun was finding +things, when I was rummaging. I found some pictures in an old trunk that +she said I might have, and I want you to give them to Bubby Short to put +in the Panorama he said he was going to make. He said the price to see +it would be two cents. They are true ones, for they are about Aunt +Phebe's little Tommy. One day, when he was a good deal smaller feller +than he is now, he went out when it had done raining one day, and the +wind blew hard, and he found an old umbrella, and did just what is in +the pictures. The school-teacher that boarded there, O, she could draw +cows and pigs and anything; and she drew these pictures, and wrote about +them underneath. + +I wish you would write me a letter, and tell Benjie to and Bubby Short. + +From your affectionate friend, + + WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. What are you fellers playing now? + + * * * * * + +Thinking the school-teacher's pictures might please other little Tommys, +I have taken some pains to procure them for insertion here. Little +"fellers" usually are fond of carrying umbrellas,--large size preferred. +Nothing suited Tommy better than marching off to school of a rainy day +with one up full spread, provided he could hold it. His cousin Myra once +took an old umbrella and cut it down into a small one, by chopping off +the ends of the sticks, supposing he would be delighted with it. But no, +he wanted a "_man's one_." + + +TOMMY ON HIS TRAVELS. + +Tommy sets forth upon his travels around the house, taking with him his +whip. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +At the first corner he picks up an umbrella. A larger boy opens the +umbrella, and shows him the way to hold it. Being an old umbrella, it +shuts down again. But Tommy still keeps on in his way. + +[Illustration] + +At the second corner a gust of wind takes down the umbrella, and blows +his capes over his head. He pushes on, however, whip in hand, dragging +the umbrella behind him. + +[Illustration] + +On turning the third corner a hen runs between his legs, and throws him +down in the mud. + +He is taken inside, stripped and washed, and left sitting upon the floor +in his knit shirt, waiting for clean clothes. He can reach the handle of +the molasses-jug. He does reach the handle, and tips over the jug. His +mother finds him eating molasses off the floor with his forefinger. +Tommy looks up with a sweet smile. + +[Illustration] + +Here we have William Henry back at school again. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +[Illustration] + +I've been here three days now. I came safe all the way, but that glass +vial you put that medicine into, down in the corner of the trunk, broke, +and some white stockings down there, they soaked it all up; but I sha' +n't have to take it now, and no matter, I guess, for I feel well, all +but my legs feeling weak so I can't run hardly any. When I got here, the +boys were playing ball; but they all ran to shake hands, and slapped my +shoulders so they almost slapped me down, and hollered out, "How are +you, Billy?" "How fares ye?" "Welcome back!" "Got well?" "Good for you, +Billy!" Gus Beals--he's the great tall one we call "Mr. Augustus"--he +called out, "How are you, red-top?" And then Dorry called out to him, +"How are you, hay-pole?" Dorry and Bubby Short want me to tell you to +thank Aunt Phebe for their doughnuts, and you, too, for that molasses +candy. The candy got soft, and the paper jammed itself all into the +candy, but Bubby Short says he loves paper when it has molasses candy +all over it. I gave some of the things to Benjie. Something hurt me all +the way coming, in the toe of my boot; and when I got here I looked, and +'t was a five-cent piece right in the toe! I know who 't was! 'T was +Uncle Jacob when he made believe look to see if that boot-top wasn't +made of mighty poor leather. I went to spend it yesterday, down to the +Two Betseys' shop. Lame Betsey called me a poor little dear, and was +just going to kiss me, but I twisted my face round. I'm too big for all +that now, I guess. She looked for something to give me, and was just +going to give me a stick of candy; but the other Betsey said 't was no +use to give little boys candy, for they'd only swallow it right down, so +she gave me a row of pins, for she said pins were proper handy things +when your buttons ripped off. Just when I was coming back from the Two +Betseys' shop I met Gapper Skyblue. He goes about selling cakes now. A +good many boys were round him, in a hurry to buy first, and all you +could hear was, "Here, Gapper!" + +[Illustration] + +"This way, Gapper!" "You know me, Gapper!" "Me, me, me!" One boy--he's a +new boy--spoke up loud and said, "Mr. Skyblue, please attend to me, if +you please, for I have five pennies to spend!" He came from Jersey. The +fellers call him "Old Wonder Boy," because he brags and tells such big +stories. But now, just as soon as he begins to tell, Dorry begins too, +and always tells the biggest,--makes them up, you know. O, I tell you, +Dorry gives it to him good! You'd die a laughing to hear Dorry, and so +do all the fellers. W. B.,--that's what we call Old Wonder Boy +sometimes,--W stands for Wonder, and B stands for Boy,--he says cents +are not cents; says they are pennies, for the Jersey folks call them +pennies, and he guesses they know. He says he gets his double handful of +pennies to spend every day down in Jersey. But Bubby Short says he knows +that's a whopper, for he knows there wouldn't anybody's mother give them +their double handful of pennies to spend every day, nor cents either, +nor their father either. And then Dorry told Old Wonder Boy that he +supposed it took his double handful of pennies to buy a roll of lozenges +down in Jersey. Then W. B. said that our lozenges were all flour and +water, but down in Jersey they were clear sugar, and just as plenty as +huckleberries. Dorry said he didn't believe any huckleberries grew out +there, or if they did, they'd be nothing but red ones, for the ground +was red out in Jersey. But W. B. said no matter if the ground was red, +the huckleberries were just as black as Yankee huckleberries, and +blacker too, and three times bigger, and ten times thicker. Said he +picked twenty quarts one day. + +Dorry said, "Poh, that wasn't much of a pick!" Says he, "Now I'll tell +you a huckleberry story that's worth something." Then all the boys began +to hit elbows, for they knew Dorry would make up some funny thing. Says +he: "I went a huckleberrying once to Wakonok Swamp, and I carried a +fourteen-quart tin pail, and a great covered basket, besides a good many +quart and pint things. You'd better believe they hung thick in that +swamp! I found a thick spot, and I slung my fourteen-quart tin pail +round my waist, and picked with both hands, and ate off the bushes with +my mouth all the while. I got all my things full without stirring two +yards from the spot, and then I didn't know what to do. But I'll tell +you what I did. I took off my jacket, and cut my fishing-line, and tied +up the bottom ends of my jacket sleeves and picked them both full. And +then I didn't know what to do next. But I'll tell you what I did. I took +off my overalls, and tied up the bottoms of their legs, and picked them +so full you wouldn't know but there was a boy standing up in 'em!" Then +the boys all clapped. + +"Well," Old Wonder Boy said, "how did you get them home?" + +"O, got them home easy enough," Dorry said. "First I put the overalls +over my shoulders, like a boy going pussy-back. I slung all the quart +and pint things round my waist, and hung the covered basket on one arm, +and took the fourteen-quart tin pail in that same hand. Then I tied my +jacket to the end of my fishing-pole, and held it up straight in my +other hand like--like a flag in a dead calm!" + +O, you ought to 've seen the boys,--how they winked at one another and +puffed out their cheeks; and some of 'em rolled over and over down hill +to keep from laughing! Bubby Short got behind the fence, and put his +face between two bars, and called out, "S--e--double l!" But Dorry says +they don't know what a "s--e--double l" is down in Jersey. But I don't +believe that W. B. believes Dorry's stories; for I looked him in the +face, and he had a mighty sly look when he asked Dorry how it was he got +his huckleberries home. + +To-day they got a talking about potatoes. Old Wonder Boy said that down +in Jersey they grow so big you have to pry 'em up out of the hill, and +it don't take much more than two to make a peck. Dorry told him that +down in Maine you could stand on top the potato-hills and look all round +the country, they were so high; and he asked W. B. how they planted 'em +in Jersey, with their eyes up or down? He said he didn't know which way +they did turn their eyes. Then Dorry told him the Yankees always planted +potatoes eyes up, so they could see which way to grow. Said he planted a +hill of potatoes in his father's garden, last summer, with their eyes +all down, and waited and waited, but they didn't come up. And when he +had waited a spell longer, he raked off the top of that hill of +potatoes, and all he saw was some roots sticking up. And he began to dig +down. And he kept digging. Followed their stems. But he never got to the +potato-tops; and says he, "I never did get to those potato-tops!" O, you +ought to 've heard the boys! + +Old Wonder Boy wanted to know where Dorry thought they'd gone to. Dorry +thought to himself a minute, and looked just as sober, and then says he, +just like a school-teacher, "The earth, in the middle, is afire. I think +when they got deep enough to feel the warm, they guessed 't was the sun, +and so kept heading that way." + +Is the world afire in the middle? Dorry told me that part of his story +was really true. How Uncle Jacob would laugh to sit down and hear Dorry +and Old Wonder Boy tell about whales. W. B. calls 'em wales. His uncle +is a ship-captain, he says, and once he saw a wale, and the wale was +making for his ship, and it chased 'em. And, no matter how they steered, +that wale would chase. And by and by, in a calm day, he got under the +vessel and boosted her up out of water, when all the crew gave a +yell,--such a horrid yell that the wale let 'em down so sudden that the +waves splashed up to the tops of the masts, and they thought they were +all drowned. + +"O, poh!" Dorry cried out. "My uncle was a regular whaler, and went a +whaling for his living. And once he was cruising about the +whaling-grounds and 't was in a place where the days were so short that +the nights lasted almost all day. And they got chased by a whale. And he +kept chasing them. Night and day. And there came up a gale of wind that +lasted three days and nights; and the ship went like lightning, night +and day, the whale after them. And, when the wind went down, the whale +was so tuckered that he couldn't swim a stroke. So he floated. Then the +cap'n sang out to 'em to lower a boat. And they did. And the cap'n got +in and took a couple of his men to row him. The whale was rather longer +than a liberty-pole. About as long as a liberty-pole and a half. He was +asleep, and they steered for the tail end. A whale's head is about as +big as the Two Betseys' shop, and 't is filled with clear oil, without +any trying out. The cap'n landed on the whale's tail, and went along up +on tiptoe, and the men rowed the boat alongside, and kept even with him; +and, when he got towards her ears, he took off his shoes, and threw 'em +to the men to catch. After a while he got to the tip-top of her head. +Now I'll tell you what he had in his hand. He had a great junk of cable +as big round as the trunk of a tree, and not quite a yard long. In one +end of it there was a point of a harpoon stuck in, and the other end of +it was lighted. He told the men to stand ready. Then he took hold of the +cable with both hands, and with one mighty blow he stuck that pointed +end deep in the whale's head, and then gave one jump into the boat, and +he cried out to the men, 'Row! row for your lives! To the tail end! If +you want to live, row!' And before that whale could turn round they were +safe aboard the ship! But now I'll tell you the best part of the whole +story. They didn't have any more long dark nights after that. They kept +throwing over bait to keep her chasing, and the great lamp blazed, and +as fast as the oil got hot it tried out more blubber, and that whale +burned as long as there was a bit of the inside of him left. Flared up, +and lighted up the sea, and drew the fishes, and they drew more whales; +and they got deep loaded, and might have loaded twenty more ships. And +when they left they took a couple in tow,--of whales,--and knocked out +their teeth for ivory, and then sold their carcasses to an empty +whaler." + +Dorry says some parts of this story are true. But he didn't say which +parts. Said I must look in the whale-book and find out. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I wish you would please to send me a silver three-cent piece or +five-cent. Two squaws have got a tent a little ways off, and the boys +are going to have their fortunes taken. But you have to cross the +squaws' hands with silver. + +W. H. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +_Georgianna's Letter to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER BILLY,-- + +O Billy, my pretty, darling little bird is dead! My kitty did it, and O, +I don't know what I shall do, for I love my kitty if she did kill my +birdie; but I don't forget about it, and I keep thinking of my birdie +every time my kitty comes in the room. I was putting some seeds in the +glass, and my birdie looked so cunning; and I held a lump of white +sugar in my lips, and let him peck it. And while I was thinking what a +dear little bird he was, I forgot he could fly out; but he could, for +the door was open, and he flew to the window. I didn't think anything +about kitty. It flew up to that bracket you made, and then it went away +up in the corner just as high as it could, on a wooden peg that was +there. I didn't know what made it flutter its wings and tremble so, but +grandmother pointed her finger down to the corner, on the floor, and +there was my kitty stretching out and looking up at my bird. And that +was what made poor birdie tremble so. And it dropped right down. Before +we could run across to catch kitty, he dropped right down into her +mouth. I never thought she could get him. I didn't know what made +grandmother hurry. I didn't know that kitties could charm birds, but +they do. She didn't have him a minute in her teeth, and I thought it +couldn't be dead. But, O Billy, my dear birdie never breathed again! I +warmed him in my hands, and tried to make him stir his wings, but he +never breathed again. Now the tears are coming again. I thought I wasn't +going to cry any more. But they come themselves; when I don't know it, +they come; and O, it was such a good birdie! When I came home from +school I used to run to the cage, and he would sing to meet me. And I +put chickweed over his cage. + +Grandmother has put away that empty cage now. She's sorry, too. Did you +think a grandmother would be sorry about a little bird as that? But +she'd rather give a good deal. When she put the plates on the table, and +rattled spoons, he used to sing louder and louder. And in the morning +he used to wake me up, singing away so loud! Now, when I first wake up, +I listen. But O, it is so still now! Then in a minute I remember all +about it. Sometimes kitty jumps up on the bed, and puts her nose close +down, and purrs. But I say, "No, kitty. Get down. You killed little +birdie. I don't want to see you." But she don't know what I mean. She +rubs her head on my face, and purrs loud, and wants me to stroke her +back, and don't seem as if she had been bad. She used to be such a dear +little kitty. And so she is. She's pretty as a pigeon. Aunt Phebe says +she never saw such a pretty little gray and white kitty as she is. I was +going to have her drowned. But then I should cry for kitty too. Then I +should think how she looked all drowned, down at the bottom, just the +same way I do now how my birdie looked when it couldn't stir its little +wings, and its eyes couldn't move. My father says that kitty didn't know +any better. I hope so. I took off that pretty chain she had round her +neck. But grandmother thinks I had better put it on again. Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy says, "Don't kye, Dordie, I'll _bung_ dat tat. I'll take a +tick and _bung_ dat tat!" He calls me Dordie, I guess I rather have +kitty alive than let her be drowned, don't you? Grandmother wants you +not to catch cold and be sick. + +From your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANNA. + +P. S. Grandmother showed me how to write this letter. + + * * * * * + +A caged bird is never a very interesting object to me. But this little +canary of Georgie's was really a beautiful creature, and very +intelligent. They used to think that he listened for her step at noon +and night; for no sooner was it heard in the entry than he peeped out +with his little bright eyes, and tuned up, and sang away, as if to say, +"Glad! glad! glad you've come! glad you've come!" + +Then she would go to the cage and talk to him, and let him take sugar +from her mouth, and would hang fresh chickweed about its cage. Mornings +she used to sing, from her bed, and the bird would answer. Indeed, he +really seemed quite a companion for her. + +At the time the accident happened I had been staying for a few weeks at +the hotel, a mile or two off, and called at the farm that very day. Lucy +Maria told me, as I stopped at their door, what the kitten had done, and +how Georgianna had cried and mourned and could not be comforted. + +I found her sitting on the doorstep. She had placed the bird in a small +round basket, lined with cotton-wool, and was bending over, and stroking +it. I had always noticed the bird a great deal, used to play with it, +and whistle to make it sing louder and louder. The sight of me brought +all this back to her mind, and she burst into tears again, sobbing out, +"O, he never--will sing--any more! Dear little birdie! He had to fall +down! He couldn't--help it!" + +I talked with her awhile, in a cheerful way, and when she had become +quite calm I held out my hand and said, "Come, Georgie, don't you want +to go with me and find a pretty place where we can put birdie away, +under the soft grass? And we will plant a flower there." + +The idea of the soft grass and the flower seemed to please her. She took +my hand, and we went to look about. + +We thought the garden not a very good place, because it was dug up every +year, and the field would be mowed and trampled upon. But just over the +fence, back of the garden, we came upon some uneven ground, where the +old summer-sweeting trees grew. In one place there was a sudden pitch +downwards, into a little hollow, which grass and plantain leaves made +almost forever green. For here was what they called the Boiling Spring. +The water bubbled out of the ground on the slope of the bank, and in +former times, before the well was dug, had been used in the family. +Several trees grew about there,--wild cherry, damson, and poplar,--and a +profusion of yellow flowers, wild ones. Some of these grandmother called +"Ladies' Slipper"; the others, "Sullendine." The spring had once been +stoned up and boxed over. But the boards were now rotting away, the +stones falling in, and our little hollow had quite a deserted look. The +water trickled out and ran away around the curve of the bank. + +Grandmother came with us, and Georgie's teacher, and Matilda and Tommy. +We hollowed out a little place under the wild-cherry tree, wrapped the +birdie in cotton-wool, lay him in, and covered him over with the green +sod. I then went down by the stone wall, where sweetbriers were growing, +dug up a very pretty little one, and set it out close by, so that it +might lean against the cherry-tree. Tommy kept very sober, and scarcely +spoke a word, till it was all over. He then said to me, in a very +earnest tone, "Mr. Fwy, now will another birdie grow up there?" I +suppose he was thinking of his father's planting corn and more corn +growing. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister._ + +MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER,-- + +I'm sorry your little birdie's dead! He was a nice singing birdie! But I +wouldn't cry. Maybe you'll have another one some time, if you're a good +little girl. Maybe father'll go to Boston and buy you one, or maybe +Cousin Joe will send one home to you, in a vessel, or maybe I'll catch +one, or maybe a man will come along with birds to sell, or maybe Aunt +Phebe's bird will lay an egg and hatch one out. I wouldn't feel bad +about it. It isn't any use to feel bad about it. Maybe, if he hadn't +been killed, he'd 'a' died. Dorry says, "Tell her, 'Don't you cry,' and +I'll give her something, catch her a rabbit or a squirrel!" Says he'll +tease his sister for her white mice. Says he'll tease her with the tears +in his eyes,--or else her banties. + +How do you like your teacher? Do you learn any lessons at school? You +must try to get up above all the other ones. We've got two new teachers +this year. One is clever, and we like that one, but the other one isn't +very. We call the good one Wedding Cake, and we call the other one Brown +Bread. Did grandmother tell you about the Fortune Tellers? We went +to-day and she told mine true. She said my father was a very kind man, +and said I was quick to get mad, and said I had just got something I'd +wanted a long time (watch, you know), and said I should have something +else that I wanted, but didn't say when. I wonder how she knew I wanted +a gun. I thought perhaps somebody told her, and laid it to Old Wonder +Boy, for we two had been talking about guns. But he flared up just like +a flash of powder. "There. Now you needn't blame that on to me!" says +he. "You fellers always do blame everything on to me!" Sometimes when +somebody touches him he hollers out, "Leave me loose! Leave me loose!" +Dorry says that's the way fellers talk down in Jersey. The Fortune +Teller told W. B. that he came from a long way off, and that he wanted +to be a soldier, but he'd better give up that, for he wouldn't dare to +go to war, without he went behind to sell pies. All of us laughed to +hear that, for Old Wonder Boy is quick to get scared. But he is always +straightening himself up, and looking big, and talking about his native +land, and what he would do for his native land, and how he would fight +for his native land, and how he would die for his native land. He says +that why she told him that kind of a fortune was because he gave her +pennies and not silver money. His uncle that goes cap'n of a vessel has +sent him a letter, and in the letter it said that he had a sailor aboard +his ship that used to come to this school. + +[Illustration] + +I was going to tell you a funny story about W. B.'s getting scared, but +Dorry he keeps teasing me to go somewhere. I made these joggly letters +when he tickled my ears with his paint-brush. Has your pullet begun to +lay yet? I hope my rooster won't be killed. Tell them not to. Benjie +says he had a grand great rooster. It was white and had green and purple +tail feathers, O, very long tail feathers, and stood 'most as high as a +barrel of flour, with great yellow legs, and had a beautiful crow, and +could drive away every other one that showed his head, and he set his +eyes by that rooster, but when he got home they had killed him for +broth, and when he asked 'em where his rooster was they brought out the +wish-bone and two tail feathers, and that was all there was left of him. +I wouldn't have poor little kitty drowned way down in the deep water +'cause to drown a kitty couldn't make a birdie alive again. Have your +flowers bloomed out yet? You must be a good little girl, and try to +please your grandmother all you can. + +From your affectionate brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Now Dorry's run to head off a loose horse, and I'll tell you about +Old Wonder Boy's getting scared. It was one night when--Now there comes +Dorry back again! But next time I will. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister, about Old Wonder Boy's Fright._ + +MY DEAR SISTER,-- + +I will put that little story I am going to tell you right at the +beginning, before Dorry and Bubby Short get back. I mean about W. B.'s +getting scared. But don't you be scared, for after all 't was--no, I +mean after all 't wasn't--but wait and you'll know by and by, when I +tell you. 'T was one night when Dorry and I and some more fellers were a +sitting here together, and we all of us heard some thick boots coming-a +hurrying up the stairs, and the door came a banging open, and W. B. +pitched in, just as pale as a sheet, and couldn't but just breathe. And +he tried to speak, but couldn't, only one word at once, and catching his +breath between, just so,--"Shut--the--door!--Do!--Do!--shut--the door!" +Then we shut up the door, and Bubby Short stood his back up against it +because 't wouldn't quite latch, and now I will tell you what it was +that scared him. Not at the first of it, but I shall tell it just the +same way we found it out. + +Says he, "I was making a box, and when I got it done 't was dark, but I +went to carry the carpenter's tools back to him, because I promised to. +And going along," says he, "I thought I heard a funny noise behind me, +but I didn't think very much about it, but I heard it again, and I +looked over my shoulder, and I saw something white behind me, a chasing +me. I went faster, and then that went faster. Then I went slower, and +then that went slower. And then I got scared and ran as fast as I could, +and looked over my shoulder and 't was keeping up. But it didn't run +with feet, nor with legs, for then I shouldn't 'a' been scared. But it +came--O, I don't know how it came, without anything to go on." + +Dorry asked him, "How did it look?" + +"O,--white. All over white," says W. B. + +"How big was it?" Bubby Short asked him. + +"O,--I don't know," says W. B. "First it looked about as big as a +pigeon, but every time I looked round it seemed to grow bigger and +bigger." + +"Maybe 't was a pigeon," says Dorry. "Did it have any wings?" + +"Not a wing," says W. B. + +"Maybe 't was a white cat," says Mr. Augustus. + +"O, poh, cat!" says W. B. + +"Or a poodle dog," says Benjie. + +"Nonsense, poodle dog!" says W. B. + +"Or a rabbit," says Bubby Short. + +"O, go 'way with your rabbit!" says W. B. "Didn't I tell you it hadn't +any feet or legs to go with?" + +"Then how could it go?" Mr. Augustus asked him. + +"That's the very thing," said W. B. + +"Snakes do," says Bubby Short. + +"But a snake wouldn't look white," says Benjie. + +"Without 't was scared," says Dorry. + +I said I guessed I knew. Like enough 't was a ghost of something. + +I said like enough of a robin or some kind of bird. + +"Of what?" then they all asked me. + +"That he'd stolen the eggs of," says Dorry. + +"O yes!" says Old Wonder Boy. "It's easy enough to laugh, in the light +here, but I guess you'd 'a' been scared, seeing something chasing you in +the dark, and going up and down, and going tick, tick, tick, every time +it touched ground, and sometimes it touched my side too." + +"For goodness gracious!" says Dorry. "Can't you tell what it seemed most +like?" + +"I tell you it didn't seem most like anything. It didn't run, nor walk, +nor fly, nor creep, nor glide along. And when I got to the Great +Elm-Tree, I cut round that tree, and ran this way, and that did too." + +"Where is it now?" Dorry asked him. + +"O, don't!" says W. B. "Don't open the door. 'T is out there." + +"Come, fellers," Dorry said, "let's go find it." + +Benjie said, "Let's take something to hit it with!" And he took an +umbrella and I took the bootjack, and Bubby Short took the towel horse, +and Mr. Augustus took a hair-brush, and Dorry took his boot with his arm +run down in it, and first we opened the door a crack and didn't go out, +but peeped out, but didn't see anything there. Then we went out a +little ways, and then we didn't see anything. And pretty soon, going +along towards the stairs, Bubby Short stepped on something. "What's +that?" says he. And he jumped, and we all flung our things at it. "Hold +the light!" Dorry cried out. + +[Illustration] + +Then W. B. brought out the light, and there wasn't anything there but a +carpenter's reel, with a chalk line wound up on it, and they picked it +up and began to wind up, and when they came to the end of it--where do +you s'pose the other end was? In W. B.'s pocket! and his ball and some +more things held it fast there, and that chalk-line reel was what went +bobbing up and down behind Old Wonder Boy every step he took,--bob, bob, +bobbing up and down, for there was a hitch in the line and it couldn't +unwind any more, and the line under the door was why 't wouldn't latch, +and O, but you ought to 've heard the fellers how they roared! and Bubby +Short rolled over on the floor, and Dorry he tumbled heels over head on +all the beds, and we all shouted and hurrahed so the other fellers came +running to see what was up, and then the teachers came to see who was +flinging things round so up here, and to see what was the matter, but +there couldn't anybody tell what the matter was for laughing, and W. B. +he looked so sheepish! O, if it wasn't gay! How do you like this story? +That part where it touched his side was when that reel caught on +something and so jerked the string some. Now I must study my lesson. + +Your affectionate brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. When you send a box don't send very many clothes in it, but send +goodies. I tell you things taste good when a feller's away from his +folks. Dorry's father had a picture taken of Dorry's little dog and sent +it to him, and it looks just as natural as some boys. Tell Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy he may sail my boat once. 'T is put away up garret in that +corner where I keep things, side of that great long-handled thing, +grandmother's warming-pan. I mean that little sloop boat I had when I's +a little feller. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +_Georgianna's Letter to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER BILLY,---- + +Kitty isn't drowned. I've got ever so many new dolls. My grandmother +went to town, not the same day my kitty did that, but the next day, and +she brought me home a new doll, and that same day she went there my +father went to Boston, and he brought me home a very big one,----no, not +very, but quite big,----and Aunt Phebe went a visiting to somebody's +house that very day, and she brought me home a doll, and while she was +gone away Hannah Jane dressed over one of Matilda's old ones new, and +none of the folks knew that the others were going to give me a doll, and +then Uncle J. said that if it was the family custom to give Georgianna a +doll, he would give Georgianna a doll, and he went to the field and +catched the colt, and tackled him up into the riding wagon on purpose, +and then he started off to town, and when he rode up to our back door +there was a great dolly, the biggest one I had, and she was sitting down +on the seat, just like a live one. And she had a waterfall, and she had +things to take off and on. Then Uncle J. asked me what I should do with +my old dollies that were 'most worn out. And I said I didn't know what I +should. And then Uncle J. said that he would take the lot, for +twenty-five cents a head, to put up in his garden, for scarecrows, and +he asked me if I would sell, and I said I would. And he put the little +ones on little poles and the big ones on tall poles, with their arms +stretched out, and the one with a long veil looked the funniest, and so +did the one dressed up like a sailor boy, but one arm was broke off of +him, and a good many of their noses too. The one that had on old woman's +clothes Uncle J. put a pipe in her mouth. And the one that had a pink +gauze dress, but 't is all faded out now, and a long train, but the +train was torn very much, that one has a great bunch of +flowers----paper----pinned on to her, and another in her hand, and the +puppy he barks at 'em like everything. My pullet lays, little ones, you +know. I hope she won't do like Lucy Maria's Leghorn hen. That one flies +into the bedroom window every morning, and lays eggs on the bedroom bed. +For maybe 't would come in before I got up. My class has begun to learn +geography, and my father has bought me a new geography. But I guess I +sha' n't like to learn it very much if the backside is hard as the +foreside is. Uncle J. says no need to worry your mind any about that old +fowl, for he's so tough he couldn't be killed. I wish you would tell me +how long he could live if it wasn't killed, for Uncle J. says they grow +tougher every year, and if you should let one live too long, then he +can't die. But I guess he's funning, do you? Our hens scratched and +scratched up some of my flowers, and so did the rain wash some up that +night it came down so hard, but one pretty one bloomed out this morning, +but it has budded back again now. Aunt Phebe says she sends her love to +you, tied up with this pretty piece of blue ribbon. She says, if you +want to, you can take the ribbon and wear it for a neck bow. Grandmother +says how do you know but that sailor that went to your school in Old +Wonder Boy's uncle's vessel is that big boy, that bad one that ran away, +you called Tom Cush? + +Father laughs to hear about Old Wonder Boy, and he says a bragger ought +to be laughed at, and bragging is a bad thing. But he don't want you to +pick out all the bad things about a boy to send home in your letters; +says next time you must send home a good thing about him, because he +thinks every boy you see has some good things as well as some bad +things. + +A dear little baby has moved in the house next to our house. It lets me +hold her, and its mother lets me drag her out. It's got little bits of +toes, and it's got a little bit of a nose, and it says "Da da! da da! da +da!" And when I was dragging her out, the wheel went over a poor little +butterfly, but I guess it was dead before. O, its wings were just as +soft! and 't was a yellow one. And I buried it up in the ground close to +where I buried up my little birdie, side of the spring. + +Your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANNA. + + * * * * * + +Among the other letters I find the following, from Tom Cush. As the +people at Summer Sweeting place had been told the circumstances of his +running away, it was not only proper, but just, that William Henry +should send them this letter. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter from Tom Cush to Dorry._ + +DEAR FRIEND,---- + +I have not seen you for a great while. I hope you are in good health. +Does William Henry go to school there now? And does Benjie go, and +little Bubby Short? I hope they are in good health. Do the Two Betseys +keep shop there now? Is Gapper Skyblue alive now? I am in very good +health. I go to sea now. That's where I went when I went away from +school. I suppose all the boys hate me, don't they? But I don't blame +them any for hating me. I should think they would all of them hate me. +For I didn't act very well when I went to that school. Our captain knows +about that school, for he is uncle to a boy that has begun to go. He's +sent a letter to him. I wish that boy would write a letter to him, +because he might tell about the ones I know. + +I've been making up my mind about telling you something. I've been +thinking about it, and thinking about it. I don't like to tell things +very well. But I am going to tell this to you. It isn't anything to +tell. I mean it isn't like news, or anything happening to anybody. But +it is something about when I was sick. For I had a fit of sickness. I +don't mean afterwards, when I was so very sick, but at the first +beginning of it. + +The captain he took some books out of his chest and said I might have +them to read if I wanted to. And I read about a man in one of them, and +the king wanted him to do something that the man thought wasn't right to +do; but the man said he would not do what was wrong. And for that he was +sent to row in a very large boat among all kinds of bad man, thieves and +murderers and the worst kind. They had to row every minute, and were +chained to their oars, and above their waists they had no clothes on. +They had overseers with long whips. The officers stayed on deck over the +rowers' heads, and when they wanted the vessel to go faster, the +overseers made their long whip-lashes cut into the men's backs till they +were all raw and bleeding. Nights the chains were not taken off, and +they slept all piled up on each other. Sometimes when the officers were +in a hurry, or when there were soldiers aboard, going to fight the +enemy's vessels, then the men wouldn't have even a minute to eat, and +were almost starved to death, and got so weak they would fall over, but +then they were whipped again. And when they got to the enemy's ships, +they had to sit and have cannons fired in among them. Then the dead ones +were picked up and thrown into the water. And the king told the man that +if he wanted to be free, and have plenty to eat and a nice house, and +good clothes to wear, all he had to do was to promise to do that wrong +thing. But the man said no. For to be chained there would only hurt his +body. But to do wrong would hurt his soul. + +And I read about some people that lived many hundred years ago and the +emperor of that country wanted these people to say that their religion +was wrong and his religion was the right one. But they said, "No. We +believe ours is true, and we cannot lie." Then the emperor took away all +their property, and pierced them with red-hot irons, and threw some into +a place where they kept wild beasts. But they still kept saying, "We +cannot lie, we must speak what we believe." And one was a boy only +fifteen years old. And the emperor thought he was so young they could +scare him very easy. And he said to him, "Now say you believe the way I +want you to, or I will have you shut up in a dark dungeon." But the boy +said, "I will not say what is false." And he was shut up in a dark +dungeon, underground. And one day the emperor said to him, "Say you +believe the way I want you to, or I will have you stretched upon a +rack." But the boy said, "I will not speak falsely." And he was +stretched upon a rack till his bones were almost pulled apart. Then the +emperor asked, "Now will you believe that my religion is right?" But the +boy could not say so. And the emperor said, "Then you'll be burned +alive!" The boy said, "I can suffer the burning, but I cannot lie." Then +he was brought out and the wood was piled up round him, and set on fire, +and the boy was burned up with the wood. And while he was burning up he +thanked God for having strength enough to suffer and not lie. + +Dorry, I want to tell you how much I've been thinking about that man and +that boy ever since. And I want to ask you to do something. I've been +thinking about how mean I was, and what I did there so as not to get +punished. And I want you to go see my mother and tell her that I'm +_ashamed_. Don't make any promises to my mother, but only just tell, +"_Tom's ashamed_." That's all. I don't want to make promises. But I know +myself just what I mean to do. But I sha' n't talk about that any. Give +my regards to all inquiring friends. + +Your affectionate friend, + +TOM. + +P.S. Can't you tell things about me to William Henry and the others, for +it is very hard to me to write a letter? Write soon. + +T. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Carver's visit to the Crooked Pond School alluded to in the +following letter was quite an event for my Summer Sweeting friends, and +caused an extra amount of cooking to be done in both families. Boys +don't half appreciate the blessing of not being too old to have goodies +sent them. Now goodies taste good to me, very good, but I haven't a +friend in the world who would think of boiling up a kettleful of +molasses into candy, or of making a waiterful of seed-cakes to send me. +_Too old_, they say,--in actions, if not in words. How cruelly we are +misjudged sometimes, and by those who ought to know us best! I shall +never be too old to receive a box like that of William Henry's, never, +never!--unless my whole constitution is altered and several _clauses_ +taken out of it. + +I remember of seeing that waiter of "good seed-cakes" on grandmother's +best room table, between the front windows, waiting to be packed in Mr. +Carver's valise. Mr. Carver's black silk neck-handkerchief, tall hat, +clean dickies, stockings, two red and white silk pocket-handkerchiefs, +and various other articles were distributed over the adjacent chairs, +and his umbrella, in a brown cambric covering, stood near by. I have the +impression that most of these things were ironed over, five or six +times, as grandmother felt that apparel going away from home could not +be too much ironed. Besides, it seemed to her impossible that such an +event as Billy's father setting out on his travels should take place +without extra exertions in some quarter. + +Mr. Carver had other business which took him from home, but as "going to +see Billy" was thought _enough to tell Mrs. Paulina_, why, it is enough +for me to tell. "Mrs. Paulina" was an elderly woman, the wife of Mr. +John Slade, one of the neighbors, and she was called "Mrs. Paulina," to +distinguish her from several other Mrs. Slades. + +Mrs. Paulina had her own opinion as to how money and time should be +spent,--everybody's money and time. She was one of the prying sort, and +had wonderful skill in ferreting out all the whys and wherefores of her +neighbor's proceedings. It was a common thing at the Farm to say, when +undertaking some new scheme, "Well, how much shall we tell Mrs. +Paulina?" It being a matter of course that she would inquire into it. +The girls often amused themselves by giving her _blinding_ answers just +to see how she would contrive to carry her point. I remember their +having great fun doing this, just after William Henry went away to +school. Lucy Maria said 't was just like a conundrum to Mrs. Paulina, a +great mammoth conundrum, and the poor thing must be told about "Old +Uncle Wallace," or she would wear herself out, wondering "how Mr. Carver +could possibly afford the money." + +The "Old Uncle Wallace" thus brought to the rescue of Mrs. Paulina would +probably not have came to her rescue, or to any woman's rescue, had he +been free to choose, seeing that he lived and died a bachelor, and a +stingy bachelor at that! The old miser was a distant uncle,--either +half-uncle, or grand-uncle, or half grand-uncle of the Mr. Carvers, and +lived, that is before he died, in a town some twenty miles off. Billy's +father was named for Uncle Wallace, and when a little boy, lived in the +same neighborhood, and was quite a favorite with him. + +The acquaintance with that distant branch of the family, however, had +not been kept up, in fact I have no recollection of a single member of +it ever coming to the Farm. They were people well to do in the world, +and neither Mr. Carver nor Uncle Jacob were men to "honey round" rich +relations. Certainly they never would have fawned upon the miserly old +fellow, who had the reputation of being mean and tricky as well as +miserly. + +It seems, however, that "Uncle Wallace" did not wholly forget his +namesake, for in his will he left him quite a valuable wood-lot near +Corry's Pond,--some six or eight miles from the Farm,--and a few hundred +dollars besides. + +This occurred not a great while before my first ride out with Uncle +Jacob. Mr. Carver had long felt that Billy was being spoiled at home, +and the Crooked Pond School being recommended at that time as "really +good," and "not too expensive," he resolved that while _feeling rich_ he +would place his son at that institution. And he was more especially +inclined to do so for the reason that an old friend of his lived near +there, and this friend's wife promised to see that the boy did not go +about in actual rags. She is probably the person to whom William Henry +refers in his first letters, as "the woman I go to have my buttons sewed +on to." + +The above circumstances were duly imparted to Mrs. Paulina, yet that +perplexed woman got no relief. True, it was something to know where the +money came from, but "How could a man," she asked, "spend so much money +on eddication, when it might be drawing interest, or put into land?" + +Mrs. Paulina couldn't guess. She gave it up. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,---- + +I suppose my father has got home again by this time. I like to have my +father come to see me. The boys all say my father is a tip-top one. I +guess they like to have a man treat them with so many peanuts and good +seed-cakes. I got back here to-day from Dorry's cousin's party. My +father let me go. I wish my sister could have seen that party. Tell her +when I get there I will tell her all about the little girls, and tell +her how cunning the little ones, as small as she, looked dancing, and +about the good things we had. O, I never saw such good things before! I +didn't know there were such kinds of good things in the world. + +Did my father tell you all about that letter that Tom Cush wrote to +Dorry? Ask him to. Dorry sent that letter right to Tom Cush's mother. +And when Dorry and I were walking along together the next morning after +the party, she was sitting at her window, and as soon as she saw us she +said, "Won't you come in, boys? Do come in!" And looked so glad! And +laughed, and about half cried, after we went in, and it was that same +room where we went before. But it didn't seem so lonesome now, not half. +It looked about as sunshiny as our kitchen does, and they had +flower-vases. I wish I could get some of those pretty seeds for my +sister, for she hasn't got any of that kind of flowers. + +She seemed just as glad to see us! And shook hands and looked so +smiling, and so did Tom's father when he came into the room. He had a +belt in his hand that Tom used to wear when he used to belong to that +Base-ball Club. And when we saw that Dorry said, "Why! has Tom got +back?" Tom's mother said, "O no." But his father said, "O yes! Tom's got +back. He hasn't got back to our house, but he's got back. He hasn't got +back to town, but he's got back. He hasn't got back to his own country, +but he's got back. For I call that getting back," says he, "when a boy +gets back to the right way of feeling." + +Then Tom's mother took that belt and hung it up where it used to be +before, for it had been taken down and put away, because they didn't +want to have it make them think of Tom so much. + +She said when Tom got back in earnest, back to the house, that we two, +Dorry and I, must come there and make a visit, and I hope we shall, for +they've got a pond at the bottom of their garden, and Tom's father owns +a boat, and you mustn't think I should tip over, for I sha' n't, and no +matter if I should, I can swim to shore easy. + +Your affectionate grandchild, + + WILLIAM HENRY. + +P.S. Bubby Short didn't mean to, but he sat down on my speckled straw +hat, and we couldn't get it out even again, and I didn't want him to, +but he would go to buy me a new one, and I went with him, but the man +didn't have any, for he said the man that made speckled straw hats was +dead and his shop was burnt down, and we found a brown straw hat, but I +wouldn't let Bubby Short pay any of his money, only eight cents, because +I didn't have quite enough. Don't shopkeepers have the most money of all +kinds of men? Wouldn't you be a shopkeeper when I grow up? It seems +just as easy! If you was me would you swap off your white-handled +jack-knife your father bought you for a four-blader? My sister said to +send some of W. B.'s good things. He wrote a very good composition about +heads, the teacher said, and I am going to send it, for that will be +sending one of his good things. It's got in it about two dozen kinds of +heads besides our own heads. W. B. is willing for me to copy it off. And +Bubby Short wrote a very cunning little one, and if you want to, you may +read it. The teacher told us a good deal about heads. + +W. H. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +_W. B.'s Composition._ + +HEADS. + +Heads are of different shapes and different sizes. They are full of +notions. Large heads do not always hold the most. Some persons can tell +just what a man is by the shape of his head. High heads are the best +kind. Very knowing people are called long-headed. A fellow that won't +stop for anything or anybody is called hot-headed. If he isn't quite so +bright, they call him soft-headed; if he won't be coaxed nor turned, +they call him pig-headed. Animals have very small heads. The heads of +fools slant back. When your head is cut off you are beheaded. Our heads +are all covered with hair, except baldheads. There are other kinds of +heads besides our heads. + +First, there are Barrel-heads. Second, there are Pin-heads. Third, Heads +of sermons,--sometimes a minister used to have fifteen heads to one +sermon. Fourth, Headwind. Fifth, Head of cattle,--when a farmer reckons +up his cows and oxen he calls them so many head of cattle. Sixth, +Drumheads,--drumheads are made of sheepskin. Seventh, Heads or +tails,--when you toss up pennies. Eighth, Doubleheaders,--when you let +off rockets. Ninth, Come to a head--like a boil or a rebellion. Tenth, +Cabbageheads,--dunces are called cabbageheads, and good enough for them. +Eleventh, At Loggerheads,--when you don't agree. Twelfth, Heads of +chapters. Thirteenth, Head him off,--when you want to stop a horse, or a +boy. Fourteenth, Head of the family. Fifteenth, A Blunderhead. +Sixteenth, The Masthead,--where they send sailors to punish them. +Seventeenth, get up to the head,--when you spell the word right. +Eighteenth, The Head of a stream,--where it begins. Nineteenth, Down by +the head,--when a vessel is deep loaded at the bows. Twentieth, a +Figurehead carved on a vessel. Twenty-first, The Cathead, and that's the +end of a stick of timber that a ship's anchor hangs by. Twenty-second, +A Headland, or cape. Twenty-third, A Head of tobacco. Twenty-fourth, A +Bulkhead, which is a partition in a ship. Twenty-fifth, Go ahead,--but +first be sure you are right. + + * * * * * + +_Bubby Short's Composition._ + +ON MORNING. + +It is very pleasant to get up in the morning and walk in the green +fields, and hear the birds sing. The morning is the earliest part of the +day. The sun rises in the morning. It is very good for our health to get +up early. It is very pleasant to see the sun rise in the morning. In the +morning the flowers bloom out and smell very good. If it thunders in the +morning, or there's a rainbow, 't will be rainy weather. Fish bite best +in the morning, when you go a fishing. I like to sleep in the morning. + +Here is a letter which, judging from the improvement shown in +handwriting, and from its rather more dashing style, seems to have been +written during William Henry's second school year. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter about the "Charade."_ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I never did in all my life have such a real tiptop time as we fellers +had last night. We acted charades, and I never did any before, and the +word was--no, I mustn't tell you, because it has to be guessed by +actions, and when you get the paper that I'm going to send you, soon as +I buy a two-cent stamp, then you'll see it all printed out in that +paper. The teacher the fellers call Wedding Cake, because he's such a +good one, asked all the ones that board here to come to his house last +night, and we acted charades, and his sister told us what to be, and +what things to put on, and everything. You'll see it printed there, but +you must please to send it back, for I promised to return. + +There weren't females enough, and so Dorry he was the Fat Woman, and we +all liked to ha' died a laughing, getting ready, but when we +were--there, I 'most told! + +O if you could ha' seen Bubby Short, a fiddling away, with old ragged +clothes and old shoes and his cap turned wrong side out, then he passed +round that cap--just as sober--much as we could do to keep in! I was a +clerk and had a real handsome mustache done under my nose with a piece +of burnt cork-stopple burned over the light. And she told me to act big, +like a clerk, and I did. + +Mr. Augustus was the dandy, and if he didn't strut, but he struts other +times too, but more then, and made all of us laugh. + +Old Wonder Boy was the boy that sold candy, and he spoke up smart and +quick, just as she told him to, and the teacher was the country feller +and acted just as funny, and so did his sister; his sister was the +shopping woman. Both of them like to play with boys, and they're grown +up, too. Should you think they would? And they like candy same as we do. +And when it came to the end, just as the curtain was dropping down, we +all took hold of the rounds of our chairs, and jerked ourselves all of a +sudden up in a heap together, and groaned, and so forth. + +I wish you all and Aunt Phebe's folks had been there. We had a treat, +and O, if 't wasn't a treat, why, I'll agree to treat myself. Three +kinds of ice-creams shaped up into pyramids and rabbits, and scalloped +cakes and candy, and _such_ a great floating island in a platter!--Dorry +said 't was a floating continent!--and had red jelly round the platter's +edge, and some of that red jelly was dipped out every dip. O, if he +isn't a tiptop teacher! Dorry says we ought to be ashamed of ourselves +if we have missing lessons, or cut up any for much as a week, and more +too, I say. + +And so I can't tell any more now, for I mean to study hard if I possibly +can, + +Your affectionate grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +Please lend it to Aunt Phebe's folks. + + * * * * * + +CHARADE. (_Carpet._) + +FIRST SYLLABLE. + +_Chairs placed in two rows, to represent seats of cars. Passengers enter +and take their seats. Placard stuck up, "Beware of Pickpockets," in +capitals._ + +_First._ Enter two school-girls, M. and A., with books strapped about, +lunch-box, &c. They are laughing and chatting. M. gives A. a letter to +read. A. smiles while reading it, M. watching her face, then both look +over it together. Afterwards, study their lessons. All this must be +going on while the other passengers are entering. + +_Second._ Business man and two clerks, one at a time. One takes out +little account-book, another reads paper, another sits quietly, after +putting ticket in his hat-band. + +_Third._ Fat woman, with old-fashioned carpet-bag, umbrella, and +bundles tied up in handkerchiefs; seats herself with difficulty. + +_Fourth._ A clergyman, all in black, very solemn, with white neckcloth +and spectacles. + +_Fifth._ Yankee fellow from the country, staring at all new-comers. + +_Sixth._ Dandy, with yellow gloves, slender cane, stunning necktie, +watch-chain, and eyeglass comes in with a flourish, lolls back in his +seat, using his eyeglass frequently. + +_Seventh._ Lady with infant (very large rag-baby, in cloak and +sunbonnet) and nurse girl. Baby, being fussy, has to be amused, trotted, +changed from one to the other. Lady takes things from her pocket to +please it, dancing them up and down before its face. + +_Eighth._ Plainly dressed, industrious woman, who knits. + +_Ninth._ Fashionable young lady, dressed in the extreme of fashion. She +minces up the aisle, looks at the others, seats herself apart from them, +first brushing the seat. Shakes the dust from her garments, fans +herself, takes out smelling-bottle, &c. (Shout is heard.) "All aboard!" + +_Tenth._ In a hurry, Lady that's been a-shopping, leading or pulling +along her little boy or girl. She carries a waterproof on her arm, and +has a shopping-bag and all sorts of paper parcels, besides a portfolio, +a roller cart, a wooden horse on wheels, a drum, a toy-whip (and various +other things). Doll's heads stick out of a paper. Lady drops a package. +Dandy picks it up with polite bow. Drops another. Yankee picks it up, +imitating Dandy's polite bow. Gets seated at last, arranges her +bonnet-strings, takes off the child's hat, smooths its hair, &c. + +Steam-whistle heard. Every passenger now begins the jerking, up-and-down +motion peculiar to the cars. This motion must be kept up by all, +whatever they are doing, and by every one who enters. + +Enter Conductor with an immense _badge_ on his hat, or coat. Calls out +"Have your tickets ready!" Then passes along the aisle, and calls out +again, "Tickets!" The tickets must be large and absurd. Passengers take +them from pocket-books, gloves, &c. Fat old woman fumbles long for hers +in different bundles, finds it at last in a huge leather pocket-book. +Conductor, after _nipping_ the tickets, passes out. + +Enter boy with papers, "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" +(Business man buys one.) "Mornin' papers! Herald, Journal, Traveller!" +(Clerk buys one.) Paper boy passes out. Conductor appears, calls out, +"Warburton! Warburton! Passengers for Bantam change cars!" (Noise heard +of brakes, jerking motion ceases, school-girls leave, with those little +hopping motions peculiar to school-girls. Yankee moves nearer +fashionable miss. Two laborers enter. Steam-whistle heard, jerking +motion resumed.) Candy boy enters. "Jessup's candy! All flavors! Five +cents a stick!" (Lady buys one for baby.) "Jessup's candy! All flavors! +Lemon, vanilla, pineapple, strorbry!" (Yankee buys one, offers half to +fashionable miss. She declines. Crunches it himself.) Boy passes out. + +Enter boy with picture-papers, which he distributes. Some examine them, +others let them lie. (Dandy buys one.) Boy collects them and passes +out. Enter a very little ragged boy, with fiddle, or accordion. After +playing awhile, passes round his hat. Most of the passengers drop +something in it. Exit boy. + +Enter Conductor. "Tickets!" Collects tickets. (Steam-whistle heard.) +Passengers pick up their things. Curtain drops just as the last one goes +out. (This scene might be ended by the passengers, at a given signal, +pulling their seats together, pitching over, and having the curtain fall +on a smash-up.) + +SECOND SYLLABLE. + +_LADY in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head +on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter MAGGIE with +tray._ + +_Maggie._ Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. 'T will cheer ye up like! + +_Lady (looking up)._ No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It +is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he's lost! + +_Maggie._ And did ye slape at arl, mum? + +_Lady._ Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude +boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, +or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, +cannot eat. + +_Exit MAGGIE with breakfast things. Enter MIKE with newspapers._ + +_Mike._ Mornin' paper, mum. + +_Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns)._ Let +me see if he is found. O, here! "Found! A diamond pin on--" Pshaw, +diamond pin! Here it is. "Dog found! Black and tan--" Faugh, black and +tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where's the notice of our +darling's being lost? + +_Mike._ Shure, an' it's to the side o' the house I put it, mum, arl writ +in illegant sizey litters, mum. + +_Lady (in alarm)._ And didn't you go to the printers at all? + +_Mike._ Shure an' be n't it better out in the brard daylight, mum, +laning aginst th' 'ouse convanient like, an' aisy to see, mum? + +_Lady._ O Mike, you've undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I +say. + +_Exit MIKE._ + +_Lady (solus)._ It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked +my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my +chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His +little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now? + +_Enter MIKE, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large +letters._ + + Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!! + +_Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger._ + +_Mike._ An' it's meeself larned the fine writin', mum, in th' ould +counthry. + +_Lady (excited)._ Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen +and paper! + +_Exit MIKE, muttering. Knock heard at door._ + +_Lady._ Come! + +_Enter_ MARKET-MAN, _in blue frock_. + +_Market-man._ Good day, ma'am. Heard you'd lost a dog. + +_Lady (eagerly, with hand extended)._ Yes, yes! Where is he? + +_Market-man._ Was he a curly, shaggy dog? + +_Lady._ Yes! O yes! Where did you find him? + +_Market-man._ Was your dog bright and playful? + +_Lady (in an excited manner)._ O, very! very! + +_Market-man._ Answered to the name of Carlo? + +_Lady._ Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms! + +_Market-man (in surprise)._ Arms, ma'am? Arms? 'T is a Newfoundland dog! +He could carry you in his arms! + +_Lady (dejected)._ O cruel, cruel disappointment! + +_Market-man._ What kind of a dog was yours? + +_Lady._ O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk! + +_Market-man (going)._ Good day, ma'am. If I see him, I'll fetch him. + +_Exit MARKET-MAN. MIKE enters with writing materials, and goes out +again. LADY begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud._ + +_Lady._ Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly--(_Tap at door._) Come! + +_Enter stupid-looking BOY, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large +hat._ + +_Lady._ Did you wish to see me? + +_Boy (drawling)._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ About a dog? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ Have you found one? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ Is it a very small dog? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Lady._ Sweet and playful? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am? + +_Lady._ Did you bring him with you? + +_Boy._ Yes, ma'am (_pointing_). Out there. + +_Lady (excited)._ O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If +it should! (BOY _brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted_.) + +_Lady (in disgust)._ O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take +him away! + +_Boy._ Isn't that your dog? + +_Lady._ No! no! O, can't you take the horrid animal away? + +_Boy (going)._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Exit_ BOY _with dog_. LADY _prepares to write_. + +_Lady._ Stupid thing! Now I'll write. (_Repeats._) LOST, STRAYED, OR +STOLEN. A CURLY, WHITE--(_Tap at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._) + +_Enter ragged BOY, with covered basket._ + +_Lady._ Have _you_ found a dog? + +_Boy._ No, I hain't found no dog. + +_Lady._ Then what do you want? + +_Boy._ Father sells puppies. Father said if you'd lost your dog, you'd +want to buy one of 'em. Said you could take your pick out o' these 'ere +five. (_Opens basket for her to look in._) + +_Lady (shuddering)._ Little wretches! Away with them! + +_Boy._ They'll grow, father said, high's the table. + +_Lady._ Carry them off, can't you? + +_Boy._ Father wants to know what you'll take for your dog, running. +Father said he'd give a dollar, an' risk the ketchin' on him. + +_Lady._ Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, +and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry +dollar! + +_Boy (going)._ Good mornin'. Guess I'll be goin'. If I find your dog, I +won't (_aside_) let you know. + +_Exit BOY, with bow and scrape._ + +_Lady (writes again, and repeats)._ LOST, STRAYED, OR STOLEN. A +CUR--(_Knock at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._) + +_Enter MRS. MULLIGAN._ + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ An' is it yourself lost a dog, thin? + +_Lady (eagerly)._ Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen +him? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ Och, no. But't was barkin' all night he was, behint th' +'ouse. An' the b'ys,--that's me Pat an' Tim, they _drooned_ him, mum, +bad luck to 'em, in the mornin' arly. + +_Lady._ And did you see him? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ No, shure. + +_Lady._ And where is he now? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ O, it's safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o' No +Bottom Pond, mum. + +_Lady._ And how do you know 't is my dog? + +_Mrs. Mulligan._ Faith, an' whose dog should it be, thin? + +_Lady._ Send your boys, and I'll speak with them. + +_Mrs. Mulligan (going)._ I'll send them, mum. Mornin' mum. + +_Exit MRS. MULLIGAN. Another tap at the door._ + +_Lady._ O, this is not to be borne! Come! + +_Enter COUNTRYWOMAN with bandbox,--not an old woman._ + +_Lady (earnestly)._ If it's about a dog, tell me all you know at once! +Is he living? + +_Countrywoman._ Yes'm, but he's quite poorly. I think dogs shows their +sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin's. + +_Lady._ Do tell quick. + +_Countrywoman._ Just what I want, for I'm in a hurry myself. So I'll +jump right inter the thick on 't. You see last night when my old man was +ridin' out o' town in his cart, with some o' his cabbages left over, for +garden sarse hadn't been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin' +out on account o' the off ox bein' some lame, and my old man ain't apt +to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, +you-- + +_Lady._ But about the dog! + +_Countrywoman._ Wal, the old man was a ridin' along, slow, you know,--I +alwers tell him he'll never set the great pond afire,--and a countin' +over his cabbageheads and settlin' the keg o' molasses amongst 'em, and +a little jug of--(_nods and winks and smiles_),--jest for a medicine, +you know. For we _never do_,--I nor the old man,--never, 'xcept in case +o' sickness. + +_Lady (impatiently)._ But what about the dog? + +_Countrywoman._ Wal, he was a ridin' along, and jest got to the +outskirts o' the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin' +which should have a dog,--a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur-- + +_Lady._ Yes! Go on! Go on! + +_Countrywoman._ And he asked 'em would they take fifty cents apiece and +give it up. For he knew 't would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they +took the fifty. + +_Lady (eagerly)._ And what did he do with him? Where is he now? + +_Countrywoman._ Why, I was goin' to ride in with the old man this +mornin' to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And +we happened to see that 'ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it +out! (_Opening bandbox._) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the +crown o' my bunnet Seems poorly, but he'll pick up. (_Takes out a white +lapdog._)[A] + +[Footnote A: A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.] + +_Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him)._ 'T is my Carlo. O my +precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and +put him to sleep. (_Rises to go out._) + +_Countrywoman._ But the five dollars, marm! + +_Lady._ O, you must call again. I can't think of any paltry five +dollars, now. (_Exit._) + +_Countrywoman (calling out)._ I'll wait, marm! + +_Enter MIKE._ + +_Mike._ An' what bisness are ye doin' here? + +_Countrywoman._ Waiting for my pay. + +_Mike._ Pay, is it? Och, she'll niver pay the day. She's owin' me wages, +an' owin' the cook, and Mrs. Flarty that scoors, and the millinery +lady, an' 't is "Carl agin," she sez. "Carl agin. Can't ye carl agin?" + +_Countrywoman._ Then I'll get mine now. (_Takes off shawl, and sits +down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning +on her knitting-sheath._) I don't budge, without the pay. + +_MIKE looks on admiringly. Curtain drops._ + + +WHOLE WORD. + +_CLERK standing behind counter, with shawls and various dry goods to +sell. Also rolls or pieces of carpet, oil and other kinds. Various +placards on the walls,--"No credit." "Goods marked down!" &c. Enter OLD +WOMAN._ + +_Old Woman (speaking in rather high key)._ Do you keep stockings? + +_Clerk (handing box of stockings)._ O yes. Here are some, very good +quality. + +_Old Woman (examining them)._ Mighty thin, them be. + +_Clerk._ I assure you, they are warranted to wear. + +_Old Woman._ To wear out, I guess. + +_Enter YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE._ + +_Clerk._ Good morning. Can we sell you anything to-day? + +_Wife (modestly)._ We wish to look at a few of your carpets. + +_Clerk._ This way, ma'am. + +_Husband._ Hem! (_Clearing his throat._) We will look at something for +parlors. + +_Clerk._ Here is a style very much admired. (_Unrolls carpet._) Elegant +pattern. We import all our goods, ma'am. That's a firm piece of goods. +You couldn't do better. We warrant it to wear. All fast colors. + +_Old Woman (coming near)._ A good rag carpet'll wear out two o' that. + +_Wife (to Husband)._ I think it is a lovely pattern. Don't you like it, +Charley? + +_Husband._ Hem--well, I have seen prettier. But then, 't is just as you +say, dear. + +_Wife._ O no, Charley. 'T is just as you say. I want to please you, +dear. + +_Old Woman (to Clerk)._ Have you got any crash towelling? + +_Husband._ What's the price of this carpet? + +_Clerk._ Three dollars a yard. Here's another style (_unrolls another_) +just brought in. (_Attends to Old Woman._) + +_Husband (speaking to Wife)._ Perhaps we'd better look at the other +articles you wanted. (_They go to another part of the store, examining +articles._) + +_Enter a spare, thin WOMAN, in plain dress and green veil._ + +_Clerk._ Can we sell you anything to-day? + +_Woman._ I was thinking of buying a carpet. + +_Clerk._ Step this way, ma'am. (_Shows them._) We have all styles, +ma'am. + +_Woman._ I want one that will last. (_Examining it._) + +_Clerk (taking hold of it)._ Firm as iron, ma'am. We've sold five +hundred pieces of that goods. If it don't wear, we'll agree to pay back +the money. + +_Woman._ I want one that won't show dirt. + +_Clerk._ Warranted not to show dirt, ma'am. We warrant all our goods. + +_Woman._ Can it be turned? + +_Clerk._ Perfectly well, ma'am. 'Twill turn as long as there's a bit of +it left. + +_Woman._ What do you ask? + +_Clerk._ Well, we have been selling that piece of goods for three fifty, +but you may have it for three dollars. + +_Woman._ Couldn't you take less? + +_Clerk._ Couldn't take a cent less. Cost more by wholesale. + +_Woman._ I think I'll look further. (_Going._) + +_Clerk._ Well, now seeing it's the last piece, you may have it for two +fifty. + +_Woman._ I wasn't expecting to give over two dollars a yard. (_Going._) + +_Clerk._ Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Say two and a quarter, and take +it. + +_Woman._ I have decided not to go over two dollars. (_Going._) + +_Clerk (crossly)._ Well. You can have it for that. But we lose on it. In +fact, we are selling now to keep the trade, nothing else. Twenty-five +yards? I'll measure it directly. + +_Old Woman._ Have you got any cotton flannel? + +_Enter FASHIONABLE LADY._ + +_Clerk (all attention, bowing)._ Good morning, madam. Can we sell you +anything to-day? + +_Fashionable Lady._ I am looking at carpets this morning. Have you +anything new? + +_Clerk._ This way, madam. We have several new lots, just imported. +(_Shows one._) + +_Fashionable Lady._ It must light up well, or it will never suit me. + +_Clerk._ Lights up beautifully, madam. + +_Fashionable Lady._ Is this real tapestry? + +_Clerk._ O, certainly, madam. We shouldn't think of showing you any +other. + +_Fashionable Lady._ What's the price? + +_Clerk._ Well, this is a Persian pattern, and we can't offer it for less +than six dollars. Mrs. Topothetree bought one off the same piece. + +_Fashionable Lady._ 'T is a lovely thing, and when a carpet suits me, +the price is no objection. + +_Old Woman (coming forward)._ Have you got any remnants? I wanted to get +a strip to lay down afore the fire. (_Speaking to Lady._) Goin' to give +six dollars a yard for that? Guess you better larn how to make a rag +carpet. Fust, take your old coats and trousers, and strip 'em up inter +narrer strips, and jine the strips together, and wind all that up in +great balls. That's your warp. Then take coarse yarn and color it all +colors. That's your fillin'. Then hire your carpet wove, and that +carpet'll last. + +_Enter POLICEMAN and a GENTLEMAN._ + +_Gentleman (pointing to Fashionable Lady)._ That is the person. + +_Policeman (placing his hand on her shoulder)._ This gentleman, madam, +thinks you have--_borrowed_ a quantity of his lace goods. + +_Fashionable Lady (with air of astonishment)._ I? Impossible! +Impossible, sir! + +_Gentleman._ I am sure of it. + +_Policeman._ Will you have the goodness, madam, to come with us? + +_Curtain drops, while all are gazing at each other in amazement._ + + * * * * * + +I procured a copy of the above charade for little Silas. There was a +sociable, one evening, at his school, got up for the purpose of raising +money to buy a melodeon, or a seraphine, I don't know which. I never do +know which is a melodeon and which is a seraphine. I have an idea the +first sounds more melodious. + +They wanted a charade to act, and I sent them this of William Henry's. +Silas took the character of the fellow from the country. They liked the +charade very much. The brake-man had the forward wheels of a baby +carriage for his brakes. Of course only one of the wheels was seen, and +he made a great ado turning it. + +At the end the cars ran off the track, and the curtain fell upon a +general smash-up. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +The puddles bear in the morning and next thing the pond will, and I want +to have my skates here all ready. 'Most all the boys have got all theirs +already, waiting for it to freeze. They hang up on that beam in the +sink-room chamber. Look under my trainer trousers that I had to play +trainer in when I's a little chap, on that great wooden peg, and you'll +find 'em hanging up under the trousers. And my sled too, for Dorry and I +are going to have double-runner together soon as snow comes. It's down +cellar. We went to be weighed, and the man said I was built of solid +timber. Dorry he hid some great iron dumb-bells in his pockets for fun, +and the man first he looked at Dorry and then at the figures, and then +at his weights; he didn't know what to make of it. For I've grown so +much faster that we're almost of a size. + +First of it Dorry kept a sober face, but pretty soon he began to laugh, +and took the dumb-bells out, and then weighed over, and guess what we +weighed? + +The fellers call us "Dorry & Co." because we keep together so much. When +he goes anywhere he says "Come, Sweet William!" and when I go anywhere I +say "Come, Old Dorrymas!" There's a flower named Sweet William. There +isn't any fish named Dorrymas, but there's one named Gurrymas. We keep +our goodies in the same box, and so we do our pencils and the rest of +our traps. His bed is 'most close to mine, and the one that wakes up +first pulls the other one's hair. One boy that comes here is a +funny-looking chap, and wears cinnamon-colored clothes, all faded out. +He isn't a very big feller. He has his clothes given to him. He comes +days and goes home nights, for he lives in this town. He's got great +eyes and a great mouth, and always looks as if he was just a-going to +laugh. Sometimes when the boys go by him they make a noise, sniff, +sniff, sniff, with their noses, making believe they smelt something +spicy, like cinnamon. I hope you'll find my skates, and send 'em right +off, for fear the pond might freeze over. They hang on that great wooden +peg in the sink-room chamber, that sticks in where two beams come +together, under my trainer trousers; you'll see the red stripes. + +Some of us have paid a quarter apiece to get a football, and shouldn't +you think 't was real mean for anybody to back out, and then come to +kick? One feller did. And he was one of the first ones to get it up too. +"Let's get up a good one while we're about it," says he, "that won't +kick right out." Dorry went to pick it out, and took his own money, and +all the rest paid in their quarters, and what was over the price we took +in peanuts. O, you ought to 've seen that bag of peanuts! Held about +half a bushel. When he found the boys were talking about him he told +somebody that when anybody said, "Let's get up something," it wasn't +just the same as to say he'd pay part. But we say 't is. And we talked +about it down to the Two Betseys' shop, and Lame Betsey said 't was mean +doings enough, and The Other Betsey said, "Anybody that won't pay their +part, I don't care _who_ they be." And I've seen him eating taffy three +times and more, too, since then, and figs. And he comes and kicks +sometimes, and when they offered some of the peanuts to him, to see if +he'd take any, he took some. + +Now Spicey won't do that. We said he might kick, but he don't want to, +not till he gets his quarter. He's going to earn it. If my skates don't +hang up on that wooden peg, like enough Aunt Phebe's little Tommy's been +fooling with 'em. Once he did, and they fell through that hole where a +piece of the floor is broke out. You'd better look down that hole. I'm +going to send home my Report next time. I couldn't get perfect every +time. Dorry says if a feller did that, he'd know too much to come to +school. But there's some that do. Not very many. Spicey did four days +running. I could 'a got more perfects, only one time I didn't know how +far to get, and another time I didn't hear what the question was he put +out to me, and another time I didn't stop to think and answered wrong +when I knew just as well as could be. And another time I missed in the +rules. You better believe they are hard things to get. Bubby Short says +he wishes they'd take out the rules and let us do our sums in peace, and +so I say. And then one more time some people came to visit the school, +and they looked right in my face, when the question came to me, and put +me out. I shouldn't think visitors would look a feller right in the +face, when he's trying to tell something. Dorry says that I blushed up +as red as fire-coals. I guess a red-header blushes up redder than any +other kind; don't you? I had some taken off my Deportment, because I +laughed out loud. I didn't mean to, but I'm easy to laugh. But Dorry he +can keep a sober face just when he wants to, and so can Bubby Short. I +was laughing at Bubby Short. He was snapping apple-seeds at Old Wonder +Boy's cheeks, and he couldn't tell who snapped 'em, for Bubby Short +would be studying away, just as sober. At last one hit hard, and W. B. +jumped and shook his fist at the wrong feller, and I felt a laugh +coming, and puckered my mouth up, and twisted round, but first thing I +knew, out it came, just as sudden, and that took off some. + +I shall keep the Report till next time, because this time I'm going to +send mine and Dorry's photographs taken together. We both paid half. We +got it taken in a saloon that travels about on wheels. 'T is stopping +here now. Course we didn't expect to look very handsome. But the man +says 't is wonderful what handsome pictures homely folks expect to make. +Says he tells 'em he has to take what's before him. Dorry says he's sure +we look very well for the first time taking. Says it needs practice to +make a handsome picture. Please send it back soon because he wants to +let his folks see it. Send it when you send the skates. Send the skates +soon as you can, for fear the pond might freeze over. Aunt Phebe's +little Tommy can have my old sharp-shooter for his own, if he wants it. +Remember me to my sister. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +As the photograph above mentioned had altogether too serious an +expression, a younger one was used in drawing the picture for the +frontispiece. Neither of the three do him justice, as neither of the +three can give his merry laugh. + + * * * * * + +_Grandmother to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BOY,-- + +Your father and all of us were very glad to see that photograph, for it +seemed next thing to seeing you, you dear child. We couldn't bear to +send it away so soon. I kept it on the mantel-piece, with my spectacles +close by, so that when I went past it I could take a look. We sent word +in to your aunt Phebe and in a few minutes little Tommy came running +across and said his "muzzer said he must bwing Billy's Pokerdaff in, +wight off." But I told him to tell his muzzer that Billy's Pokerdaff +must be sent back very soon, and wasn't going out of my sight a minute +while it stayed, and they must come in. And they did. We all think 't is +a very natural picture, only too sober. You ought to try to look smiling +at such times. I wish you'd had somebody to pull down your jacket, and +see to your collar's being even. But Aunt Phebe says 't is a wonder you +look as well as you do, with no woman to fix you. I should know Dorry's +picture anywhere. Uncle Jacob wants to know what you were both so cross +about? Says you look as if you'd go to fighting the minute you got up. + +Little Tommy is tickled enough with that sled, and keeps looking up in +the sky to see when snow is coming down, and drags it about on the bare +ground, if we don't watch him. + +I had almost a good mind to keep the skates at home. Boys are so +venturesome. They always think there's no danger. I said to your father, +"Now if anything should happen to Billy I should wish we'd never sent +them." But he's always afraid I shall make a Miss Nancy of you. Now I +don't want to do that. But there's reason in all things. And a boy +needn't drown himself to keep from being a Miss Nancy. He thinks you've +got sense enough not to skate on thin ice, and says the teachers won't +allow you to skate if the pond isn't safe. But I don't have faith in any +pond being safe. My dear boy, there's danger even if the thermometer is +below zero. There may be spring-holes. Never was a boy got drowned yet +skating, but what thought there was no danger. Do be careful. I know you +would if you only knew how I keep awake nights worrying about you. + +Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew +how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home +a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won't tell the price. They are +high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the +window of one of the grand stores, and thought he'd just step in and buy +them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I'm speaking of +the price. Now Georgie doesn't go to parties, and where the child can +wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to +meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the +broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won't do, because her meeting +dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege +dress to match 'em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he +heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, +he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has +sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at +the bottom he writes, "Company expected to appear in blue boots." So I +dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, and draw my plush +moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob takes her things, and +waits upon her to the table, and they have great fun out of it. + +My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears +cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won't be so cruel as to +laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don't depend +upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head +and his heart. When I was a little girl and went to school in the old +school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the +school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old +gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to +wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a +gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant +smile, that I haven't forgotten yet, though 't was a great many years +ago. After we'd read and spelt, and the writing-books and +ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to +address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every +time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I've +remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way. + +"I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear +them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And +because I love them so well, I don't want there should be anything bad +about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming;--I should be very +sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, +children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. +You can remember three words, can't you?" + +"Yes, sir," we would say. + +"Well, now, how long can you remember them?" he would ask,--"a week?" + +"Yes sir." + +"Two weeks?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"A month?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"A year?" + +"Guess so." + +"All your lives?" + +Then some would say, "Yes, sir," and some would say they guessed not, +and some didn't believe they could, and some knew they couldn't. + +"Well, children," he would say at last, "now I will tell you what the +three words are: Treat--everybody--well. Now what I want you to be +surest to remember is 'everybody.' Everybody is a word that takes in a +great many people, and a great many kinds of people,--takes in the +washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that +come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand +clothes, and the help in the kitchen,--takes in those we don't like and +even the ones that have done us harm. 'Treat--_everybody_--well.' For +you can afford to. A pleasant word don't cost anything to give, and is a +very pleasant thing to take." + +The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he +followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman +that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to +make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn't wear good +clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the +ones best that wore the best clothes. He'd seen children, and grown +folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and +then be ugly and snappish to poor people they'd hired to work for them. +A real lady or gentleman,--he used to end off with this,--"A real lady, +and a real gentleman will--treat--everybody--well." And I will end off +with this too. And don't you ever forget it. For that you may be, my +dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of + +Your loving Grandmother. + +P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, +there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that +picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I +forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. +And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. +And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for +your Report. + + * * * * * + +I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue +boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of +those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of +blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six +little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go +in and buy, and now I haven't one. + +Georgie's boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her +grandmother knit. And I couldn't see any harm in her wearing a red dress +with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for +me, and I'll never turn against them! + +"Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!" + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven't sniffed +my nose up any at Spicey. I'll tell you why. Because I remember when I +first came, and had a red head, and how bad 't was to be plagued all the +time. But I tell you if he isn't a queer-looking chap! Don't talk any, +hardly, but he's great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs +itself. But not out loud. Dorry says 't is a very wide smile. It comes +easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When +you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he +don't know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and +when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he +laughs. Though he don't have very much to give. But he can't say no. All +the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an +apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, "Give me a +taste." "Give me a taste," till 't was every bit tasted away. Then they +tried him on slate-pencils,--his had bully points to them,--and he gave +every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said +'t was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said +they'd done with 'em. Dorry says he's going to ask him for his nose some +day, and then see what he'll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he's +a clever chap. And he won't kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till +he's paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he +said, No, I thank you. "Why not?" Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he +guessed he'd rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and +guess he heard about that feller that wouldn't pay his part, and about +his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the school +about money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever +take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn't mean +what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year's Day, and all that. And +to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He'd heard +of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, +because they knew 't wouldn't be asked for. The feller I told you +about--the one that kicks and don't pay--he owes Gapper Sky Blue for +four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he +knows Gapper won't ask for two cents! Gapper let him have 'em for two +cents, because he'd had 'em a good while and the edges of 'em were some +crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won't say +anything ever, and so he's trying to keep from paying. I guess his left +ear burns sometimes! + +Gapper can't go round now, selling cakes, because he's lame, and has to +go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make +tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, +and sell 'em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if +'t isn't bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up +to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn't there +only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes +ever so far. Bubby Short 'most got run over by a sleigh. He was going +"knee-hacket" and didn't see where he was going to, and went like +lightning right between the horses' legs, and didn't hurt him a bit. + +Last night when the moon shone the teachers let us go out, and they +went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn't have +the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we'd drag it way up to the top, +and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, +and away we'd go. Once it 'most tipped over. O, I never did see anything +scream so loud as girls can when they're scared? I wish 't would be +winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question +we had last was, "Which is the best, Summer or Winter?" And we got so +fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers +to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns +firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter +to take notes, but I don't know as you can read them, he was in such a +hurry. + +"In summer you can fly kites. + +"In winter you can skate. + +"In summer you have longer time to play. + +"In winter you have best fun coasting evenings. + +"In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats. + +"In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings. + +"In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball. + +"In winter you can coast and make snow-forts. + +"In summer you can go a fishing. + +"So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch +on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole +in the ice and set a light to draw 'em, and then take a jobber and job +'em as fast as you're a mind to. + +"In summer you can go take a sail. + +"In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride. + +"In summer you don't freeze to death. + +"In winter you don't get sunstruck. + +"In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing. + +"In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the +icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the +sleigh-bells jingle. + +"In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other +berries. + +"In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and +preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) +and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!" + +(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time. + +"In summer you have Independent Day, and that's the best day there is. +For if it hadn't been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria. + +"In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather's Day and Christmas +and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that's +Washington's Birthday. And if it hadn't been for that we should have to +mind Queen Victoria." + +When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds +to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but +the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how +glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful +things all the year round. Bubby Short says he's sure he's glad, for if +a feller couldn't have fun what would he do? After we got out doors the +summer ones that didn't go over hollered out to the other ones that did, +"Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! 'Fore I'd be Winter killed! Frost +bit! Frost bit! 'Fore I'd be Frost bit!" + +I should like to see my sister's blue boots. I am very careful when I go +a skating. There isn't any spring-hole in our pond. I don't know where +my handkerchiefs go to. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Don't keep awake. I'll look out. Bubby Short's folks write just so +to him. And Dorry's. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be +drowned? + + * * * * * + +The boys must have been much interested in that "Debating Society." When +William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called +upon all to take sides. + + * * * * * + +_Georgiana to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BROTHER,-- + +Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe's to eat supper, and had on my light blue +boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over +because 't was snowing, for he said the party couldn't be put off +because they had got all ready. But the party wasn't anybody but me, but +he's all the time funning. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy he had some new +rubber boots, but they didn't get there till after supper, and then 't +was 'most his bedtime. But he got into the boots and walked all round +with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all +over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he +didn't want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots +stay on till he got asleep, and then pull 'em off softly as she could. +Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, +without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed +about his boots, because soon as they pulled 'em a little bit, he +reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then +she pulled 'em off softly and stood 'em up in the corner. I carried my +work with me, and 't was the handkerchief that is going to be put in +this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She +says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but +next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they +made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, +because I was the party, in the best waiter. + +And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped +on,--six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, +and she wouldn't take a mite of care of them. She won't let them get +close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on 'em all the time, +and broke one's leg. She's a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid +they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, +a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the +pigs. When 't was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he +put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put +ashes on the fire first, so they could keep warm all night. And in the +night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought +the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and +tumbled down on to the floor and 'most killed himself so he died +afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the +little pigs all night. For soon as 't was daylight, and before too, +Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with +him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his +bedroom window that he couldn't take a nap. He told me to send to you in +my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and +winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning? + +Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that +killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping +this last one in a warm place, for they don't dare to let it go into the +pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she's +worse than a cannibal. But I don't know what that is. He says they kill +men and eat them alive, but I guess he's funning. She dips a sponge in +milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge. + +Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. +Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs +every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and +waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn't get himself out, and +when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. +Then he cried. Tommy's cut off a piece of his own hair. + +Your affectionate sister, + +GEORGIANA. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Sister._ + +MY DEAR SISTER,-- + +You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky +Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. +You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed +that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long +stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that +was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby +Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I +read about the pigs I tell you if they didn't laugh! And when that +little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the +floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, "Let's play +have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob's question." And we did. +First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to +tell people 't was time to get up and to let everybody know they +themselves were up and stirring about. Said he'd lain awake mornings, +down in Jersey, and listened and heard 'em say just as plain as day. +"I'm up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!" + +Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the +other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they +didn't belong. Said he'd lain awake in the morning and heard 'em say, +just as plain as day, "If you do, I'll give it to you! I'll give it to +you oo oo oo!" + +But a little chap that had come to hear what was going on said 't was +more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he'd +lain awake in the morning and listened and heard 'em say, "Come on if +you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!" + +Then 't was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower +kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale +up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I'd lain awake in the +morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try +to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, "Open your mouth +wide and do as I do! Do as I do!" and then the young ones say, "Can't +quite do so! Can't quite do so!" + +Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what +anybody said, but he'd always understood they were talking about the +weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to +lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and +where there'd been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how +to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks' eggs. + +The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our +lessons, so the Debating Society stopped. + +Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? +The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We +had flags flying, and I tell you if 't wasn't a bully go! We went ten +miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and +they'd up and hurrah, and then we'd hurrah back again. And one lot of +fellers, if they didn't let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted our +driver to stop, and let us give it to 'em good. But he wouldn't do it. +One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn't get it unhitched +again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more +than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had +the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He +lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made +believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm 'em in the hay. +We 'most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, +where there wasn't very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We +all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held 'em in +tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and +then she was so scared she didn't know what to do, but just stood still +to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for +her to stand close up to the drift, and then there'd be room enough. + +[Illustration] + +When I got home I found my bundle and the tin box rolled up in that new +jacket, with all that good jelly in it. Old Wonder Boy peeped in and +says he, "O, there's quite some jelly in there, isn't there?" He says +down in Jersey they make nice quince-jelly out of apple-parings, and +said 't was true, for he'd eaten some. Dorry said he knew that was +common in Ireland, but never knew 't was done in this country. Dorry +says you must keep us posted about the last of the piggies. Keep your +pretty blue boots nice for Brother Billy to see, won't you? Thank you +for hemming that pretty handkerchief. I've counted my handkerchiefs a +good many times, but counting 'em don't make any difference. + +From your affectionate Brother, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +The course of true love it seems did not always ran smooth with Dorry +and William Henry. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +This is only a short letter that I am going to write to you, because I +don't feel like writing any. But when I don't write then you think I +have the measles, else drowned in the pond, and I'll write a little, but +I feel so sober I don't feel like writing very much. I suppose you will +say,--what are you feeling so sober about? Well, seems if I didn't have +any fun now, for Dorry and I we've got mad at each other. And he don't +hardly speak to me, and I don't to him either; and if he don't want to +be needn't, for I don't mean to be fooling round im, and trying to get +him to, if he don't want to. + +Last night we all went out to coast, and the teachers and a good many +ladies and girls, and we were going to see which was the champion sled. +But something else happened first. The top of the hill was all bare, +and before they all got there some of the fellers were scuffling +together for fun, and Dorry and I we tried to take each other down. +First of it 't was all in fun, but then it got more in earnest, and he +hit me in the face so hard it made me mad, and I hit him and he got mad +too. + +[Illustration] + +Then we began to coast, for the people had all got there. Dorry's and +mine were the two swiftest ones, and we kept near each other, but his +slewed round some, and he said I hit it with my foot he guessed, and +then we had some words, and I don't know what we did both say; but now +we keep away from each other, and it seems so funny I don't know what to +do. The teacher asked me to go over to the stable to-day, for he lost a +bunch of compositions and thought they might have dropped out of his +pocket, when we went to take that sleigh-ride. And I was just going to +say, "Come on, Old Dorrymas!" before I thought. + +But 't is the funniest in the morning. This morning I waked up early, +and he was fast asleep, and I thought, Now you'll catch it, old fellow, +and was just a going to pull his hair; but in a minute I remembered. +Then I dressed myself and thought I would take a walk out. I went just +as softly by his bed and stood still there a minute and set out to give +a little pull, for I don't feel half so mad as I did the first of it, +but was afraid he did. So I went out-doors and looked round. Went as far +as the Two Betseys' Shop and was going by, but The Other Betsey stood at +the door shaking a mat, and called to me, "Billy, where are you going +to?" + +"Only looking round," I said. She told me to come in and warm me, and I +thought I would go in just a minute or two. Lame Betsey was frying +flapjacks in a spider, a little mite of a spider, for breakfast. She +spread butter on one and made me take it to eat in a saucer, and I never +tasted of a better flapjack. There was a cinnamon colored jacket hanging +on the chair-back, and I said, "Why, that's Spicey's jacket!" "Who?" +they cried out both together. Then I called him by his right name, Jim +Mills. He's some relation to them, and his mother isn't well enough to +mend all his clothes, so Lame Betsey does it for nothing. He earns money +to pay for his schooling, and he wants to go to college, and they don't +doubt he will. They said he was the best boy that ever was. His mother +doesn't have anybody but him to do things for her, only his little +sister about the size of my little sister. He makes the fires and cuts +wood and splits kindling, and looks into the buttery to see when the +things are empty, and never waits to be told. When they talked about him +they both talked together, and Lame Betsey let one spiderful burn +forgetting to turn 'em over time enough. + +When I was coming away they said, "Where's Dorry? I thought you two +always kept together." For we did always go to buy things together. Then +I told her a little, but not all about it. + +"O, make up! make up!" they said. "Make up and be friends again!" I'm +willing to make up if he is. But I don't mean to be the first one to +make up. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +I guess you'll think 't is funny, getting another letter again from me +so soon, but I'm in a hurry to have my father send me some money to have +my skates mended; ask him if he won't please to send me thirty-three +cents, and we two have made up again and I thought you would like to +know. It had been 'most three days, and we hadn't been anywhere +together, or spoken hardly, and I hadn't looked him in the eye, or he +me. Old Wonder Boy he wanted to keep round me all the time, and have +double-runner together. He knew we two hadn't been such chums as we used +to be, so he came up to me and said, "Billy, I think that Dorry's a mean +sort of a chap, don't you?" + +"No, I don't," I said. "He don't know what 't is to be mean!" For I +wasn't going to have him coming any Jersey over me! + +"O, you needn't be so spunky about it!" says he. + +"I ain't spunky!" says I. + +Then I went into the schoolroom, to study over my Latin Grammar before +school began, and sat down amongst the boys that were all crowding round +the stove. And I was studying away, and didn't mind 'em fooling round +me, for I'd lost one mark day before, and didn't mean to lose any more, +for you know what my father promised me, if my next Report improved +much. And while I was sitting there, studying away, and drying my feet, +for we'd been having darings, and W. B. he stumped me to jump on a place +where 't was cracking, and I went in over tops of boots and wet my feet +sopping wet. And I didn't notice at first, for I wasn't looking round +much, but looking straight down on my Latin Grammar, and didn't notice +that 'most all the boys had gone out. Only about half a dozen left, and +one of 'em was Dorry, and he sat to the right of me, about a yard off, +studying his lesson. Then another boy went out, and then another, and by +and by every one of them was gone, and left us two sitting there. O, we +sat just as still! I kept my head down, and we made believe think of +nothing but just the lesson. First thing I knew he moved, and I looked +up, and there was Dorry looking me right in the eye! And held out his +hand--"How are you, Sweet William?" says he, and laughed some. Then I +clapped my hand on his shoulder, "Old Dorrymas, how are you?" says I. +And so you see we got over it then, right away. + +Dorry says he wasn't asleep that morning, when I stood there, only +making believe. Said he wished I'd pull, then he was going to pull too, +and wouldn't that been a funny way to make up, pulling hair? He's had a +letter from Tom Cush and he's got home, but is going away again, for he +means to be a regular sailor and get to be captain of a great ship. He's +coming here next week. I hope you won't forget that thirty-three. I'd +just as lives have fifty, and that would come better in the letter, +don't you believe it would? That photograph saloon has just gone by, and +the boys are running down to the road to chase it. When Dorry and I sat +there by the stove, it made me remember what Uncle Jacob said about our +picture. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +The reason that I've kept so long without writing is because I've had to +do so many things. We've been speaking dialogues and coasting and daring +and snowballing, and then we've had to review and review and review, +because 't is the last of the term, and he says he believes in reviews +more than the first time we get it. I tell you, the ones that didn't get +them the first time are bad off now. I wish now I'd begun at the first +of it and got every one of mine perfect, then I should have easier +times. The coast is wearing off some, and we carry water up and pour on +it, and let it freeze, and throw snow on. Now 't is moonshiny nights, +the teacher lets all the "perfects" go out to coast an hour. Sometimes I +get out. And guess where Bubby Short and Dorry and I are going to-night! +Now you can't guess, I know you can't. To a party! Now where do you +suppose the party is to be? You can't guess that either. In this town. +And not very far from this school-house. Somebody you've heard of. Two +somebodies you've heard of. Now don't you know? The Two Betseys! Suppose +you'll think 't is funny for them to have a party. But they're not a +going to have it themselves. Now I'll tell you, and not make you guess +any more. + +You know I told you Tom Cush was coming. He came to-day. He's grown just +as tall and as fat and as black and has some small whiskers. I didn't +know 'twas Tom Cush when I first looked at him. Bubby Short asked me +what man that was talking with Dorry, and I said I didn't know, but +afterwards we found out. He didn't know me either. Says I'm a staving +great fellow. He gave Dorry a ruler made of twelve different kinds of +wood, some light, some dark, brought from famous places. And gave Bubby +Short and me a four-blader, white handled. He's got a fur cap and fur +gloves, and is 'most as tall as Uncle Jacob. He told Dorry that he +thought if he didn't come back here and see everybody, he should feel +like a sneak all the rest of his life. + +We three went down to The Two Betseys' Shop with him, and when he saw +it, he said, "Why, is that the same old shop? It don't look much bigger +than a hen-house!" Says he could put about a thousand like it into one +big church he saw away. Said he shouldn't dare to climb up into the +apple-tree for fear he should break it down. Said he'd seen trees high +as a liberty-pole. And when he saw where he used to creep through the +rails he couldn't believe he ever did go through such a little place, +and tried to, but couldn't do it. So he took a run and jumped over, and +we after him, all but Bubby Short. We took down the top one for him. + +[Illustration] + +The Two Betseys didn't know him at first, not till we told them. Dorry +said, "Here's a little boy wants to buy a stick of candy." Then Tom +said he guessed he'd take the whole bottle full. And he took out a +silver half a dollar, and threw it down, but wouldn't take any change +back, and then treated us all, and a lot of little chaps that stood +there staring. Lame Betsey said, "Wal, I never!" and The Other Betsey +said, "Now did you ever? Now who'd believe 't was the same boy!" And Tom +said he hoped 't wasn't exactly, for he didn't think much of that Tom +Cush that used to be round here. Coming back he told us he was going to +stay till in the evening, and have a supper at the Two Betseys', us four +together, but not let them know till we got there. He's going to carry +the things. We went to see Gapper Sky Blue, and Tom bought every bit of +his molasses candy, and about all the seed-cakes. When I write another +letter, then you'll know about the party. + +Your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Do you think my father would let me go to sea? + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +We had it and they didn't know anything about it till we got there, and +then they didn't know what we came for. Guess who was there besides us +four! Gapper Sky Blue and little Rosy. Tom invited them. We left the +bundles inside and walked in. Not to the shop, but to the room back, +where they stay. They told us, "Do sit up to the fire, for 't is a +proper cold day." They'd got their tea a warming in a little round +tea-pot, a black one, and their dishes on a little round table, pulled +up close to Lame Betsey; seemed just like my sister, when she has +company, playing supper. The Other Betsey, she was holding a skein of +yarn for Lame Betsey to wind, and said their yarn-winders were come +apart. Dorry said, "Billy, let's you and I make some yarn-winders!" Now +what do you think we made them out of? Out of ourselves! We stood back +to back, with our elbows touching our sides, and our arms sticking out, +and our thumbs sticking up. Then Dorry told her to put on her yarn, and +we turned ourselves round, like yarn-winders. + +Pretty soon Gapper Sky Blue and Rosy came. Then we brought in the +bundles and let 'em know what was up, and they didn't know what to say. +All they could say was, "Wal, I never!" and "Now did you ever?" + +The Other Betsey said if they were having a party they must smart +themselves up some. So she got out their other caps, with white ruffles, +and put on her handkerchief with a bunch of flowers in the back corner, +but put a black silk cape on Lame Betsey that had a muslin ruffle round +it, or lace, or I don't know what, and a clean collar, that she worked +herself, when she was a young lady, and a bow of ribbon, that she used +to wear to parties, wide ribbon, striped, green and yellow, or pink, I +can't tell, and both of 'em clean aprons, figured aprons,--calico, I +think like enough,--with the creases all in 'em, and strings tied in +front. I tell you if the Two Betseys didn't look tiptop! Then they unset +that little round table, and we dragged out the great big one, that +hadn't been used for seventeen years. The Other Betsey's grandfather had +it, when he was first married. When 't isn't a table, 't is tipped up to +make into a chair, and had more legs than a spider. Little Rosy helped +set the table. She never went to a party before. + +O, but you ought to 've seen the plates! You know your pie-plates? Well, +these were just like them. All white, with scalloped edges, blue +scalloped edges. Only no bigger round than the top of your tin dipper. +The knives and forks--two-prongers--had green handles. And the +sugar-bowl and cream pitcher were dark blue. Tom brought a good deal of +sugar, all in white lumps, and a can of milk. He bought pies and jumbles +and turnovers and ginger-snaps and egg-crackers and cake and bread at +the bake-house, and butter and cheese and Bologna sausage--I can't bear +Bologna sausage--and some oranges, that he brought home from sea. And +the sweetest jelly you ever saw! Don't know what 't is made of, but they +call it guava jelly, and comes in little boxes. I believe I could eat +twenty boxes of that kind of jelly, if I could get it. Dorry says he +don't doubt they make it out of apple-parings down in Jersey. + +The Other Betsey stood up in a chair and took down her best china cups +and saucers, that used to be her grandmother's, and hadn't been took +down for a good many years, and wiped the dust off. Little mites of +things, with pictures on them. We boys didn't drink tea, only Tom Cush; +we had milk in mugs. Mine was a tall, slim one, not much bigger round +than an inkstand, and had pine-trees on it, blue pine-trees. Dorry had a +china one that was about as clear as glass, that Lame Betsey's brother +brought home when he went captain, and Bubby Short's had "A gift of +affection" on it. That was one her little niece used to drink out of +that died afterwards, when she was very little. + +I tell you if that supper-table didn't look like a supper-table when 't +was all ready! They set Lame Betsey at the head of the table, because +she couldn't get up, and Dorry said the one at the head must never get +up, for it wasn't polite. We took her right up in her chair to set her +there. Then there was some fun quarrelling which should sit at her right +hand, because that is a seat of honor. Tom said Gapper ought to, for he +was the oldest. But he said it ought to be Tom, because he was the most +like company. But at last she said 't wouldn't make any difference, +because she was left-handed. The Other Betsey brought some twisted +doughnuts out. + +Now I'll tell you how we sat. + +Lame Betsey at the head, and the Other Betsey at the other end; Gapper +Sky Blue and Rosy and Bubby Short on the right side, and Tom and Dorry +and I on the left. And if we didn't have a bully time! The Two Betseys +and Gapper used to know each other, and to go to school together, and +they told such funny stories, made us die a laughing, and when I get +home you'll hear some. Then Gapper told Tom Cush that now he was a +sailor he ought to spin us a yarn. When I come home I'll tell you the +yarn Tom spun. 'T was all about an alligator he saw, and about going +near it in a boat, and what the Arabs did, and what he did, and what the +alligator did. Wait till I come, then you'll hear about it. Both Betseys +kept putting down their knife and fork, and looking up at him, just as +scared, and kept saying, "Wal, I never!" "Now did you ever!" + +Tom acted it all out. First he cleared a place for a river. Then he took +a twisted doughnut for the alligator and a ginger-snap for a boat. I'll +tell you about it sometime. Guess 't wasn't all true, for you can put +anything you've a mind to in a yarn. He told us about the beautiful +birds, and when I told him about one my sister used to have, he said +he'd bring her home a Java sparrow. + +Then he told us about drinking "Hopshe!" I'll tell how, and I want all +of you to try it. + +Now suppose Hannah Jane was the one to try it. + +First, she takes a tumbler of water in her hand, then you all say +together, Hannah Jane and all, quite fast,-- + + "A blackbird sat on a swinging limb. + He looked at me and I at him. + Once so merrily,--Hopshe! + Twice so merrily,--Hopshe! + Thrice so merrily,--Hopshe!" + +Now I shall tell where the fun comes in. + +While all the rest say, "Once so merrily," Hannah Jane must drink one +swallow quick enough to say the "Hopshe!" with them. Then another +swallow while they say, "Twice so merrily," and another while they say, +"Thrice so merrily," and be ready to say the "Hopshe" with them, every +time. We tried it, and I tell you if the "Hopshe's" didn't come in all +sorts of funny ways! The Two Betseys told about some funny tricks they +used to try, to see who was going to be their beau. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I saw a dollar bill in Gapper Sky Blue's hand after Tom Cush bade +him good by. Dorry says how do I know but 't was more than a dollar +bill, and I don't. + +W. H. + +There was a good deal left for the Two Betseys to eat afterwards. I had +a letter from Mr. Fry. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR AUNT,-- + +There is going to be a dancing-school, and Dorry's mother wants him to +go, and he says he guesses he shall, so he may know what to do when he +goes to parties, and his cousin Arthur, that doesn't go to this school, +says 't is bully when you've learned how. Please ask my grandmother if I +may go if I want to. Dorry wants me to if he does, he says, and Bubby +Short says he means to too, if we two do, if his mother'll let him. +Dorry's mother says we shall get very good manners there, and learn how +to walk into a room. I know how now to walk into a room, I told him, +walk right in. But he says his mother means to _enter_ a room, and +there's more to it than walking right in. He don't mean an empty room, +but company and all that. I guess I should be scared to go, the first of +it; I guess I should be bashful, but Dorry's cousin says you get over +that when you're used to it. Good many fellers are going. Mr. Augustus, +and Old Wonder Boy, and Mr. O'Shirk. Now I suppose you can't think who +that is! Don't you know that one I wrote about, that kicked and didn't +pay, and that wouldn't help water the course? The great boys picked out +that name for him, Mr. O'Shirk. The O stands for owe, and Shirk stands +for itself. I send home a map to my grandmother, I've just been making, +and I tried hard as I could to do it right, and I hope she will excuse +mistakes, for I never made one before. 'T is the United States. Old +Wonder Boy says he should thought I'd stretched out "Yankee Land" a +little bigger. He calls the New England States "Yankee Land." And he +says they make a mighty poor show on the map. But Mr. Augustus told him +the brains of the whole country were kept in a little place up top, same +as in folks. So W. B. kept still till next time. Dorry said he'd heard +of folks going out of the world into Jersey. If I go to dancing-school, +I should like to have a bosom shirt, and quite a stylish bow. I think +I'm big enough, don't you, for bosom shirts? I had perfect this forenoon +in all. I've lost that pair of spotted mittens, and I don't know where, +I'm sure. I know I put them in my pocket. My hands get just as numb now +with cold! Seems as if things in my pockets got alive and jumped out. I +was clapping 'em and blowing 'em this morning, and that good, tiptop +Wedding Cake teacher told me to come in his house, and his wife found +some old gloves of his. I never saw a better lady than she is. When she +meets us she smiles and says, "How do you do, William Henry?" or Dorry, +or whatever boy it is. And when W. B. was sick one day she took care of +him. And she asks us to call and see her, and says she likes boys! Dorry +says he's willing to wipe his feet till he wears a hole in the mat, +before he goes in her house. For she don't keep eying your boots. Says +he has seen women brush up a feller's mud right before his face and +eyes. My hair grows darker colored now. And my freckles have 'most faded +out the color of my face. I'm glad of it. + +From your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_Aunt Phebe to William Henry._ + +MY DEAR BILLY,-- + +We are very much pleased indeed with your map. Dear me, how the United +States have altered since they were young, same as the rest of us! That +western part used to be all Territory. You couldn't have done anything +to please your grandmother better. She's hung it up in the front room, +between Napoleon and the Mourning Piece, and thinks everything of it. +Everybody that comes in she says, "Should you like to see the map my +little grandson made,--my little Billy?" You'll always be her little +Billy. She don't seem to think you are growing up so fast. Then she +throws a shawl over her head, and trots across the entry and opens the +shutters, and then she'll say, "Pretty good for a little boy." And +tells which is Maine, and which is New York, and points out the little +arrow and the printed capital letters. Folks admire fast as they can, +for that room is cold as a barn, winters. The last one she took in was +the minister. Your grandmother sets a sight o' store by you. She's proud +of you, Billy, and you must always act so as to give her reason to be, +and never bring her pride to shame. + +We are willing you should go. At first she was rather against it, though +she says she always meant you should learn to take the steps when you +got old enough, but she was afraid it might tend to making you +light-headed, and to unsteady your mind. This was the other night when +we were talking it over in your kitchen, sitting round the fire. Somehow +we get in there about every evening. Does seem so good to see the blaze. +Your father said if a boy had common sense he'd keep his balance +anywhere, and if dancing-school could spoil a fellow, he wasn't worth +spoiling, worth keeping, I mean. I said I thought it might tend to keep +you from toeing in, and being clumsy in your motions. Your Uncle J. said +he didn't think 't was worth while worrying about our Billy getting +spoiled going to dancing-school, or anybody's Billy, without 't was some +dandyfied coot. "Make the head right and the heart right," says he, "and +let the feet go,--if they want to." So you see, Billy, we expect your +head's right and your heart's right. Are they? + +The girls and I have turned to and cut and made you a couple of bosom +shirts and three bows, for of course you will have to dress rather +different, and think a little more about your looks. But not too much, +Billy! Not too much! And don't for gracious sake ever get the notion +that you're good-looking! Don't stick a breastpin in that shirt-bosom +and go about with a strut! I don't know what I hadn't as soon see as see +a vain young man. I do believe if I were to look out, and you should be +coming up my front yard gravel path with a strut, or any sort of +dandyfied airs, I should shut the door in your face. Much as I set by +you, I really believe I should. Lor! what are good looks? What are you +laying out to make of yourself? That's the question. Freckles are not so +bad as vanity. Anybody'd think I was a minister's wife, the way I talk. +But, Billy, you haven't got any mother, and I do think so much of you! +'T would break my heart to see you grow up into one of those +spick-and-span fellers, that are all made up of a bow and a scrape and a +genteel smile! Though I don't think there's much danger, for common +sense runs in the family. No need to go with muddy boots, though, or +linty, or have your bow upside down. You've always been more inclined +that way. Fact is, I want you should be just right. I haven't a minute's +more time to write. Your Uncle J. has promised to finish this. + + * * * * * + +DEAR COUSIN BILLY,-- + +This is Lucy Maria writing. The blacksmith sent word he was waiting to +sharpen the colt, and father had to go. He's glad of it, because he +never likes to write letters. I'm glad you are going to dancing-school. +Learn all the new steps you can, so as to show us how they're done. +Hannah Jane's beau has just been here. He lives six miles off, close by +where we went once to a clam-bake, when Dorry was here. Georgiana's +great doll, Seraphine, is engaged to a young officer across the road. He +was in the war, and draws a pension of a cent a week. The engagement +isn't out yet, but the family have known it several days, and he has +been invited to tea. He wore his best uniform. Seraphine is invited over +there, and Georgie is making her a spangled dress to wear. The wedding +is to come off next month. I do wish I could think of more news. Father +is the best hand to write news, if you can only get him at it. Once when +I was away, he wrote me a letter and told me what they had for dinner, +and what everybody was doing, and how many kittens the cat had, and how +much the calf weighed, and what Tommy said, and seemed 'most as if I'd +been home and seen them. Be sure and write how you get along at +dancing-school, and what the girls wear. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +MY DEAR AUNT,-- + +Thank you for the bosom shirts and the ones that helped make them. +They've come. I like them very much and the bows too. They're made +right. I lent Bubby Short one bow. His box hadn't come. He kept running +to the expressman's about every minute. We began to go last night. If we +miss any questions to-day, we shall have to stay away next night. That's +going to be the rule. O, you ought to 've seen Dorry and me at it with +the soap and towels, getting ready! We scrubbed our faces real bright +and shining, and he said he felt like a walking jack-o'-lantern. I +bought some slippers and had to put some cotton-wool in both the toes of +'em to jam my heels out where they belonged to. I don't like to wear +slippers. My bosom shirt sets bully, and I bought a linen-finish paper +collar. I haven't got any breastpin. I don't think I'm good looking. +Dorry doesn't either. I know he don't. That's girls' business. We had to +buy some gloves, because his cousin said the girls wore white ones, and +nice things, and 't wouldn't do if we didn't. Yellowish-brownish ones we +got, so as to keep clean longer. But trying on they split in good many +places, our fingers were so damp, washing 'em so long. Lame Betsey is +going to sew the holes up. When we got there we didn't dare to go in, +first of it, but stood peeking in the door, and by and by Old Wonder Boy +gave me a shove and made me tumble in. I jumped up quick, but there was +a great long row of girls, and they all went, "Tee hee hee! tee hee +hee!" Then Mr. Tornero stamped and put us in the gentlemen's row. Then +both rows had to stand up and take positions, and put one heel in the +hollow of t' other foot, and then t' other heel in that one's hollow, +and make bows and twist different ways. And right in front was a whole +row of girls, all looking. But they made mistakes theirselves sometimes. + +First thing we learned the graces, and that is to bend way over +sideways, with one hand up in the air, and the other 'most way down to +the floor, then shift about on t' other tack, then come down on one +knee, with one hand way behind, and the other one reached out ahead as +if 't was picking up something a good ways off. We have to do these +graces to make us limberer, so to dance easier. I tell you 't is mighty +tittlish, keeping on one knee and the other toe, and reaching both ways, +and looking up in the air. I did something funny. I'll tell you, but +don't tell Grandmother. Of course 't was bad, I know 't was, made 'em +all laugh, but I didn't think of their all pitching over. You see I was +at one end of the row and W. B. was next, and we were fixed all as I +said, kneeling down in that tittlish way, reaching out both ways, before +and behind, and looking up, and I remembered how he shoved me into the +room, and just gave him a little bit of a shove, and he pitched on to +the next one, and he on to the next, and that one on to the next, and so +that whole row went down, just like a row of bricks! Course everybody +laughed, and Mr. Tornero did too, but he soon stamped us still again. +And then just as they all got still again, I kept seeing how they all +went down, and I shut up my mouth, but all of a sudden that laugh shut +up inside made a funny sort of squelching sound, and he looked at me +cross and stamped his foot again. Now I suppose he'll think I'm a bad +one, just for that tumbling in and shoving that row down and then +laughing when I was trying to keep in! He wants we should practise the +graces between times, to limber us up. Dorry and I do them up in our +room. Guess you'd laugh if you could see, when we do that first part, +bending over sideways, one hand up and one down. I tried to draw us, but +'t is a good deal harder drawing crooked boys than 't is straight ones, +so 't isn't a very good picture. The boys that go keep practising in the +entries and everywhere, and the other ones do it to make fun of us, so +you keep seeing twisted boys everywhere. Bubby Short was kneeling down +out doors across the yard, on one knee, and I thought he was taking aim +at something, but he said he was doing the graces. I must study now. +Bubby Short got punished a real funny way at school to-day. I'll tell +you next time. I'm in a hurry to study now. + +Your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Dorry's just come in. He and Bubby Short and I bought "Seraphine" +some wedding presents and he's done 'em up in cotton-wool, and they'll +come to her in a pink envelope. Dorry sent that red-stoned ring and I +sent the blue-stoned. We thought they'd do for a doll's bracelets. Bubby +Short sends the artificial rosebud. He likes flowers,--he keeps a +geranium. We bought the presents at the Two Betseys' Shop. They said +they'd do for bracelets. Dorry says, "Don't mention the price, for 't +isn't likely everybody can make such dear presents, and might hurt their +feelings." We tried to make some poetry, but couldn't think of but two +lines. + + When you're a gallant soldier's wife, + May you be happy all your life! + +Dorry says that's enough, for she couldn't be any more than happy all +her life. "Can too!" W. B. said. "Can be good!" "O, poh!" Bubby Short +said; "she can't be happy without she's good, can she?" But I want to +study my lesson now. + +W. H. + +Those bosom shirts are the best things I ever had. + +W. H. + +Although it would have been a vast sacrifice, I think I would have +almost given my best pair of shoes for a chance of seeing Billy when +dressed to go to the dancing-school. A boy in his first bosom shirt is +such an amusing sight. You can easily pick one out in a crowd by his +satisfied air, and stiff gait; by the setting back of the shoulders, and +the throwing out of the chest,--as if that smooth, white, starched +expanse did not set out enough of itself! Some have a way of looking up +at gentlemen, as much as to say, _We_ wear bosom shirts! But of course +those of us boys and men who have passed through this experience +remember all about it. + + * * * * * + +_Lucy Maria to William Henry._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +That famous wedding came off yesterday afternoon. There were fifteen +invited. I do wish I had time to tell you all about it. Mother made a +real wedding-cake. Georgie has hardly slept a wink for a week, I do +believe, thinking about it. The young soldier wore his epaulets, having +been made General the day before. The bride was dressed in pure white, +of course, with a long veil, of course, too, and orange blossoms, real +orange blossoms that I made myself. The presents were spread out on the +baby-house table. Perhaps you don't know that Georgie has a baby-house. +It is made of a sugar-box, set up on end papered with housepaper inside, +and brown outside. It has a down below, an up stairs, and garret. I do +wish I had time to tell you all about the wedding, but Matilda's a +churning, and I promised to part the butter and work it over, if she +would fetch it. I do wish you could hear her singing away,-- + + "Come, butter, come! come, butter, come! + Peter stands at the gate, waiting for his buttered cake. + Come, butter, come!" + +Besides the baby-house table, the presents were laid on the roof of the +baby-house. There were sontags, shoes, hats and feathers, and all sorts +of clothes, the rosebud, your jewelry, and more besides, also spoons, +dishes, gridirons, vases and everything they could possibly want, to +keep house with, even to flatirons and a cooking-stove. The hands of the +happy couple were fastened together, and they stood up (there was a pile +of books behind them). Then the trouble was, who should be the minister? +At last we saw that funny Dicky Willis, your old crony, peeping in the +window, and made him come in and be the minister. He was just the right +one for it. He charged the bridegroom to give his wife everything she +asked for, and keep her in dry kindlings, and let her have her own way, +and always wipe his feet, and not smoke in the house, and never find +fault; and charged her to sew on his buttons, and have plum-pudding +often, and let him smoke in the house, and never want any new clothes, +and always mind her husband, and let him bring in mud on his feet, and +always have a smiling face, even if the baby-house was a burning down +over their heads, and then pronounced them man and wife. I could fill up +half a dozen sheets of paper, if I had time, but I'm afraid of that +butter. Everybody shook hands with them, and kissed them, and the +wedding-cake was passed round, and then the children played + + "Little Sally Waters, sitting in the sun, + Crying and weeping for her lost one." + +In the midst of everything Tommy came in with Georgiana's atlas, and +said he'd found "two kick-cases." He meant those two black hemispheres, +that are pictured out in the beginning. Mother put a raisin in his +mouth, and hushed him up. The happy couple have gone on a wedding tour +to Susie Snow's grandmother's _country_ _seat_. It is expected that they +will live half the time with Georgie, and half at the General's +head-quarters. But their plans may be altered; this is a changing world, +and a young couple can't always tell what's before them. I do wish you'd +write how you get on at dancing-school, and what the great girls wear, +about my age. O dear what an age it is! 'T is dreadful to think of! +'Most eighteen! Did you ever hear of anybody being so old? Now truly I'm +'most ashamed to own how old I am. Eighteen next month! Hush, don't +tell! Keep it private! I do wish I could grow backwards, and grow back +into a baby-house if 't were nothing but a sugar-box. I do long to cut +my hair off and go in a long-sleeved tier, and I've a good mind to. We +don't think you made a very good beginning. Guess your Mr.--I can't +think of his name--thought there was need enough of your learning to +enter a room. Mother's going to put a note in this letter. I've made her +promise not to scold you, but she's got something particular to say. +Father will too. I told him 't would be just what you would like, one of +his letters. Matilda says the butter has sent word it's coming. Write +soon. + +From your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + + * * * * * + +I was very sorry not to be able to attend the wedding. My present was +half a dozen holders. The woman with whom I board said I couldn't give a +bride anything more useful. Her little daughter made them for me, at the +rate of two cents apiece. They were an inch wide, and all had loops at +the corners. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Uncle Jacob._ + +HOW ARE YOU, YOUNG MAN? + +I am very glad you go to dancing-school. Boys, as a general thing, are +too fond of study, and 't is a good plan to have some contrivance to +take their minds off their books. I suppose you'd like to know what is +going on here at home. Your grandmother sits by the fire knitting some +mittens for you to lose, so be sure you do it. [She says, tell him to be +sure when he goes to dancing-school to wear his overcoat.] Your aunt +Phebe is making jelly tarts. Says I can't have any till meal-time. [Tell +him to be sure and get cooled off some before he comes away.] Your +grandmother can't help worrying about that dancing-school. Matilda is +picking over raisins for the pies. She won't sit very close to me. Now +Tommy has come in, crying with cold hands. Lucy Maria is soaking them in +cold water. I don't doubt he'll get a tart. Yes, he has. First he cries, +and then he takes a bite. [Tell him not to go and come in his slippers.] +Aunt Phebe says, "Now there's William Henry growing up, you ought to +give him some advice." But I tell her that a boy almost in his teens +knows himself what's right and what's wrong. Now Georgiana has come in +crying. Says she stepped her foot through a puddle of ice. Grandmother +has set her up to dry her foot. Now she'll get a tart, I suppose! Yes +she has. [Tell him to look right at the teacher's feet.] That's good +advice if you expect to learn how. Now your aunt says I'm such a good +boy to write letters she's going to give me this one that's burnt on the +edge. [Tell him to brush his clothes and not go linty.] More good +advice. I guess now I've got the tart I won't write any more. Of course +we expect you to do just about right. If you neglect your studies and so +waste your father's money, you'll be an ungrateful scamp. If you get +into any contemptible mean ways, we shall be ashamed to own you. Do you +mean to do anything or be anything now or ever? If you do, 't is time +you were thinking about it. + +UNCLE JACOB. + +All between the brackets are messages from your grandmother. + +J. U. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +When you get as far as choosing partners, there's a word I want to say +to you, though, as you're a pretty good dispositioned boy, maybe there's +no need; still you may not always think, so 'twill do no harm to say it. +There are always some girls that don't dance quite so well, or don't +look quite so well, or don't dress quite so well, or are not liked quite +so well, or are not quite so much acquainted. Now I don't want you to +all the time, but sometimes, say once in an evening, I want you to pick +out one of these for your partner. I know 't isn't the way boys do. But +you can. Suppose you don't have a good time that one dance. You weren't +sent into the world to have a good time every minute of your life! How +would you like to sit still all the evening? I've been spectator at such +times, and I've seen how things go on! Why, if boys would be more +thoughtful, every girl might have a good time, besides doing the boys +good to think of something besides their own comfort. If I were you I +wouldn't try to make fun, but try to learn, for though your father was +willing you should go, and wants to do everything he can for you, he has +to work hard for his money. Lucy Maria is waiting to hear how you get +on. + +Your affectionate + +AUNT PHEBE. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Lucy Maria._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +I was going to write to you before, how I was getting along, but have +had to study very hard. We've been five times. The girls wear slippers +and brown boots and other colors, and white dresses and blue and all +kinds, and long ribbons, and a good many pretty girls go. If girls +didn't go, I should like to go better. I mean till we know how, for I'd +rather make mistakes when only boys were looking. And I make a good +many, because he says I don't have time and tune. He says my feet come +down sometimes right square athwart the time. So I watched the rest, and +when they put their feet down, I did mine. But that was a stroke too +late, he said. Said "time and tune waits for no man." I like to +promenade, because a feller can go it some then. We learn all kinds of +waltzes and redowas and polkas. I can polka with one that knows how. +Whirling round makes me light-headed just as Grandmother said. But I get +over it some. We are going to do the German at the last of it. The worst +of it is cutting across the room to get your partners. He calls out when +we're all standing up in two rows, "First gentleman take the first +lady!" Now, supposing I'm first gentleman, I have to go way across to +first lady with all of 'em looking, and fix my feet right way, one heel +in the other hollow, and then make my bow, and then she has to make that +kind of kneeling-down bow that girls do, and then we wait till all of +'em get across one by one. Then we take the step a little while, and +then launch off round the hall, polking, or else get into quadrilles. +And if we do we make graces to the partners and the corners. I like +quadrilles best, because you can hop round some and have a good time, if +you have a good partner. You can dance good deal better with a good +partner. Last time I had that one the fellers call "real estate," +because you can't move her she don't ever get ready to start, and when +'t is time to turn stands still as a post. + +Dorry and I practise going across after partners, up in our room. You +ought to 've seen us yesterday! Dorry was the lady. If he didn't look +funny! He fixed the table-cloth off the entry table, to make it look +like his mother's opera-cape, and fastened a great sponge on for a +waterfall, and fizzled out his hair, and had a little tidy on top his +head, and that red bow you sent me right in front of it. Then he stood +out by the window, and kept looking at his opera-cape, and smoothing it +down, and poking his hair, and holding his handkerchief, the way girls +do, and kept whispering, or making believe, to Bubby Short, the way +girls do. Then I went across and made my bow, and he made that +kneeling-down bow, and then we tried to polka redowa, but our boots +tripped us up, and we couldn't stand up, and laughed so we tumbled down, +and didn't hear anybody coming till he knocked, and 't was the teacher, +come to see what the matter was. Not Wedding Cake, but Old Brown Bread, +and he said dancing mustn't be brought into our studies, and scolded +more, but I saw his eyes laughing, looking at Dorry. One of the boys +tumbled down stairs, doing the graces in the entry, too near the edge, +and it's forbidden now. Some of the first-class fellers put up a notice +one night in the entry, great printed letters. + +[Illustration: NO ADMITTANCE TO THE GRACES] + +That owl stands for Minerva. I couldn't make a very good one because I'm +in such a hurry to do my examples. The goddess of wisdom used to be +named Minerva. She was painted with an owl. I've been reading it in the +Classical Dictionary. Dorry and Bubby Short and I have just been to the +Two Betseys to get our gloves sewed up, and the Other Betsey said she +used to dance like a top. Then she held her dress up with her thumbs +and fingers, and took four different kinds of balances. Made us die a +laughing, she hopped up and down so. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S That TO isn't left out in the notice, it's my own mistake. + + * * * * * + +The remaining letters were probably written during his last term at the +school. + + * * * * * + +_Matilda's Letter to William Henry._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +Lucy Maria keeps telling me that I promised to write you a letter, but I +wish I hadn't promised to write you one, because I don't like to write +letters very well, for I can't think of anything to write. But Lucy +Maria she likes to, and that would do just as well as for me to. But +mother says I ought to often, so as to get me in the habit of it. I +don't have very much time to write very long letters, for the girls are +getting up a Fair, and I am helping do the old woman in her shoe, and +gentlemen's pincushions, and presents for the arrow table, where the +arrow swings round and points to your present, and so I don't get very +much time between schools. For we have to write compositions every week +now, and all the girls think the teacher is just as mean as he can be to +make us. We want he should take off some of the compositions and put +more on to our other lessons; but no. He thinks 't is the best thing we +can do. He don't care about anything else, I believe. Susie Snow says +she believes he's all made up of composition. Our next subject is +"Economy" and we've got to put in time wasted, and health wasted, and +money wasted. Susie Snow is going to put in hers that girls should never +waste their time writing compositions. + +I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in +a sandy desert, I believe. But she don't have to go to school. Hannah +Jane hasn't got home from Aunt Matilda's yet. The minister and his wife +and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond +of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe +brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. 'T is very pleasant +weather. I wish you'd come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are +thick as spatters, and I don't have much time. The dog stepped on my +sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven't come up. Father says I better +go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache, +that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that's in the +Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up +four times, and I've brought it in the house and stuck it in a +cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because 't was used to +pepper at home, but I can't tell what he means and what he don't, he +funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to. + +O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But 't is quite bad news. It +happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us +cried. I couldn't help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the +one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till 't was big +enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating +supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy +hadn't got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was. +Father said he didn't doubt he'd gone to find his turtle. He had a +turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he'd have to +have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep +things about for him when he don't come straight home to his meals. He'd +rather play than eat. 'T is only a little school he goes to. Not very +far off. Five scholars, that's all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell +about our cow. + +We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn't think what the matter +was. 'T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard, +crying and hollering both together, "Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!" Much +as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what 't was, for he +knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and +Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow! +She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises, +and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper +in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn't do anything. + +"Rails! rails!" they all called out, and we pulled them out of the +fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft +she sank in so they couldn't do anything with her. Much as they could do +to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a rotten rail, and it +broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two +canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to +go get some boards. There weren't any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade's +new house, and that was too far off, and father said 't was too late, +for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. 'Most all the women and +girls came away then, for we couldn't bear to stay any longer to see her +suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes +looked very mournful. + +In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got +her up, but not soon enough. She's buried now, under the poplar-tree, in +that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed +to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana +about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn't the best +breed, but she's part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not +very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent. +Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart, +that don't hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to +have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can't screw her +courage up, and can't take the time. Your father says he wants to see +her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she +might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy's trousers, +that would be natural. He's always making barn-doors in his trousers, +he's such a climbing fellow. + +L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and father's going to make +up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told +us about, and I'm going to be a music teacher, I guess. I'm going to +begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a +mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha' n't I be glad! But Susie Snow +says I shall sing another tune after I've taken a little while. Father +says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to +practise two hours a day. I'd just as soon promise that as not. 'T is +just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house. +Seems if I couldn't believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew +how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now, +William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as +possible. + +From your affectionate Cousin, + +MATILDA. + +P. S. Cousin Joe has sent me a smelling-bottle, a little gilt one he +brought home, that's got ninety-four different smells in it. Mother is +writing you a note. She says you can't dance on her carpet. Father says +he's sorry he didn't learn the graces, and means to when you come again. +We can dance in the barn. Tommy has just come in. He says he knows his B +A C's. He's a funny boy. He means A B C's. But he always gets the horse +before the cart. One day we tried to make conundrums, and Georgiana made +this,--see if you can answer it: Which is best, to have plum-cake for +supper and only have a little mite of a piece, or cookies, and have as +many as you want? + +Georgiana's kitty has just jumped over the fence. She's after my +morning-glories again. Just as fast as I fasten 'em up, she goes to +playing with the strings and claws 'em down again. Lucy Maria drew a +picture of her doing it. + +M. + + * * * * * + +_A Note from Dorry._ + +DEAR WILLIAM HENRY'S GRANDMOTHER,-- + +William Henry wants I should tell you not to be scared when you see +another boy's handwriting on the back of this letter, and not to think +he's got cold, or got anything else, like measles, or anything of that +kind, and not to feel worried about his not writing for so long, for he +is all right except the first joint of his forefinger. He crooked that +joint, or else uncrooked it, playing base ball. 'T was a heavy ball and +he took it whole on that joint, and 't is so stiff he can't handle a +penholder. He thinks you will all wonder why he doesn't write, and worry +about his getting sick or something, but he never felt better. Appetite +very good. He has received his cousin Matilda's letter, and will answer +it when he can. He wants to know what she'd think if she had to write +poetry for composition. Our teacher told us we must each write one verse +about June. I put three of them in for you to see, but don't put our +names. + + "O I love the verdant June, + When the birds are all in tune, + When the rowers go out to row, + When the mowers go out to mow, + O, sweetly smells the fragrant hay, + As we ride on the load and stow it away." + + "In June we can sail + In the gentle gale, + On the waters blue, + And catch cod-fish + That make a good dish, + And mackerel too." + + "In June the summer skies are clear, + And soon green apples do appear. + And though they're hard and sour, we know + That every day they'll better grow. + This teaches us that boys, also, + Every day should better grow." + +P. S. He wants I should tell you 't is tied up in a rag all right and +don't hinder his studying. Says he wishes his cousin Lucy Maria would +write him one of her kind of letters, that she knows how to write, and +tell what they are all doing and what they talk about, and when his +finger is well he will answer all the letters they will write to him. + +Very respectfully, + +BILLY'S FRIEND, DORRY. + + * * * * * + +_Aunt Phebe's Note._ + +MY DEAR BILLY,-- + +Grandmother worries about that finger. Do ask Dorry to write again, or +else take the penholder in your middle one, though we mistrust that's +damaged, or you'd have written before this. I've had my picture taken +and send you one to keep. Look at it often, and if you've done anything +wrong, think it shakes its head at you! Little wrong things, or big +ones, all the same. For little wrongs are more dangerous, because we +think they're of no account. But they show what's in a person, same as +a little pattern of goods tells what the whole piece is. Show me half an +inch of cotton and I'll tell you what color the whole spool is. + +I'd no idea of having my picture taken. I was right in the heart of +baking, when your Uncle J. drove up and said he'd harnessed up on +purpose. 'T was all a contrived plan between him and the girls. I saw +them smiling together when Mattie brought out my black alpaca. I thought +the girls seemed mighty ready to take hold and finish up the baking. But +he got caught in his own trap, for Lucy Maria went with us, to make sure +my collar and things looked fit to be taken, and she set her foot down +we shouldn't leave the saloon till he'd had his, for she was going to +have a locket with us both inside, and I had to be done over small. What +an operation it is to have your picture taken! If we could only take +ether and be carried through! He put my head in a clamp, and crossed my +hands, and pinned up a black rag for me to look at, and told me to look +easy and natural, and smile a very little! I'm sure I tried to, but your +Uncle J. says 't is a very melancholy face, and Lucy Maria says the +cheek-bones cast a shadow! Your father says the worst of it is, it does +look like me! I think it's too bad to make fun of it, after all I passed +through! Your Uncle J. took things easy and joked with the man, and was +laughing when the cover was taken off and didn't dare to unlaugh, he +says, so he came out all right, with a laughing face, as he always is. +The girls want we should be taken large and hang up, side by side, in +two oval frames, over the mantel-piece. But their father says he sha' +n't be hung up alive, if he can help himself. + +It isn't likely I shall write to you again very soon. Cousin Joe and his +accordion are coming, and he'll bring his sisters, and the young folks +about here know them, and I expect there'll be nothing but frolicking. +Then there'll be some of your Uncle J.'s folks after that, so you see +we'll be all in a hubbub and I shall have to be the very hub of the +hubbub, I suppose. Lucy Maria says, "Tell William Henry to send us a +charade, or something to amuse the company with." Write when you can. + +With a great deal of love, your affectionate + +AUNT PHEBE. + +P. S. Take good care of your finger. A finger-joint would be a great +loss. I think cold water is as good as anything. Grandmother wishes you +had some of her carrot salve. Let us hear from you in some way. +Grandmother wants to know if the Two Betseys don't make carrot salve. + + * * * * * + +I must add here that Lucy Maria was not the girl to give up those +pictures in "two oval frames." For by perseverance, and partly with my +assistance, the thing was secretly managed, and managed so well that +Uncle Jacob actually carried them out home himself, in a bundle to Lucy +Maria, without knowing it! And they now hang in triumph over the +fireplace in the "girls' chamber." + + * * * * * + +_Lucy Maria to William Henry._ + +DEAR BILLY,-- + +'T is a pity about that forefinger. Pray get it well enough to handle a +pen, 't is so long since you've written. So you want home matters +reported. Eatable matters of course will be most interesting. Milk and +butter, plenty. Gingerbread (plain), ditto. Gingerbread (fancy), scarce. +Cookies, quiet. Plum-cake, in demand. Snaps, lively. Brown-bread, firm. +White-bread (sliced), dull. Biscuits (hot), brisk. Custard, unsteady. +Preserves not in the market. + +What do we do, and what do we talk about? Why, we talk about our cousin +William Henry, and what we do can't be told within the bounds of one +letter. Think of seven cows' milk to churn into butter, besides a cheese +now and then, and besides working for the extra hands we hire this time +o' year! I should have written to you before, when we first heard of +your accident, if I could have got the time. Hannah Jane is away, and +we've let Mattie go with Susie Snow to Grandma Snow's again for a few +days. Grandma Snow likes to have Mattie come with Susie, for 't is +rather a still, dull place. So you must think we are quite lonesome here +now, and we are, especially mother. Father tells her she'd better +advertise for a companion. I've a good mind to advertise to be a +companion. What do companions do? The old lady might be cross, or the +old gentleman, but that wouldn't hurt me, so long as I kept clever +myself. Don't doubt I'd get fun out of it some way. There's fun in about +everything I think. + +I've been trying to get father and mother to go to Aunt Lucy's and stay +all night. But father thinks there wouldn't be anybody to shut the +barn-door, and mother thinks there wouldn't be anybody to do anything, +though I've promised to scald the pans, and do up the starched things, +and keep Tommy out of the sugar-bowl. He takes a lump every chance he +can get. Takes after his father. Father puts sugar on sweetened +puddings, if mother isn't looking! We've made some verses to plague +Tommy, and when Mattie gets her piano, they're going to be set to music. + +SONG. + +A SWEET TOMMY. + + As turns the needle to the pole, + So Tommy to the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + + Tommy always takes a toll + Going by the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + + Were Tommy blind as any mole, + He'd always find the sugar-bowl. + Tra la la, tra la la! + Sweet, sweet Tommy! + +He's a funny talking fellow. We took him into town last night, to see +the illumination. This morning we heard him and Frankie Snow telling +Benny Joyce about it. Father and I were listening behind the blinds. +Made father's eyes twinkle. Don't you know how they twinkle when he's +tickled? + +"You didn't see the _rumination_ and we did!" we heard Tommy say. + +"Rumination? What's a rumination?" asked Benny. + +"O hoo! hoo!" cried Tommy. "Denno what a rumination is!" + +"Why," said Frankie, "don't you know the _publicans_? Wal, that's it." + +"O poh!" said Benny. "Publicans and sinners! I knew they's coming!" + +"And soldiers!" said Frankie. "O my! All a marching together!" + +"O poh!" said Benny. "I see 'em go by. Paint-pots on their heads, and +brushes _in_ 'em! I wasn't goin' to chase!" + +"Guess nobody wouldn't let ye?" said Frankie. + +"Didn't either!" cried Tommy, "didn't have paint-pots!" + +"Did!" said Benny. "Guess my great brother knows!" + +"Guess we know," said Frankie, "when we went!" + +"And the town was all _celebrated_," said Tommy. And the houses all +_gloomed_ up! And horses! O my! + +"O poh!" said Benny. "When I grow up, I'm goin' to have a span!" + +If mother does go, she'll take Tommy, for she wouldn't sleep a wink away +from him over night. Father pretends he'd go if he had a handsome span. +Says he hasn't got a horse in the barn good enough to take mother out +riding. When Mammy Sarah was here washing, she told him how he could get +a good span. You know he's always joking about taking summer boarders. +Says Mammy Sarah, "Now 't is a wonder to me you don't do it, for summer +boarders is as good as a gold-mine. Money runs right out of their +pockets, and all you have to do is to catch it." She says we could make +enough out of a couple of them, in a month's time, to buy a handsome +span, and she isn't sure but the harness. + +I think we begin to be a little in earnest about summer boarders. For we +have rooms enough, in both houses together, and milk and vegetables, and +mother's a splendid cook. Mammy Sarah says, "They ain't diffikilt, and +after they've been in the country couple of weeks, they don't eat so +very much more than other folks." + +Father says he wants to take them more for the entertainment than the +money. He wants rich ones, but not the sensible kind, that know money +isn't the only thing worth having. Says what he wants is that silly, +stuck-up kind, that put on airs, and make fools of themselves, they'd be +so amusing! Thinks the best sort for our use would be specimens that +went up quite sudden from poor to rich, like balloons, all filled with +gas. I believe there'd be lots of fun to be made out of them. I've seen +one or two. Gracious! You'd think they weren't born on the same planet +with poor folks. Mother'd rather have the really well-informed, sensible +kind, that we may learn something from them. A couple of each would be +just the thing. How do you like mother's picture? We don't feel at all +satisfied with it. If she could only be taken at home! Then she'd look +natural. Father says the world is going ahead so fast, he believes the +time will come when every family will have its own picture-machine, much +as it has its own frying-pan. Then when folks have on their best +expressions, why, clap it right before them. Then they'll look homish. +Says what he wants is to have mother's face when she's just made a batch +of uncommon light biscuits, or when Tommy's said something smart. Won't +there be funny pictures when we can hold up a machine before anybody +any minute, like a frying-pan, and catch faces glad, or mad, or sad, or +any way? I made believe take Tommy's and then showed them to him on a +piece of paper. Guess I'll put them in the letter. They'll do to amuse +you. I draw an hour or so every day. First, I have to make my hour. +Sometimes I have to make more. For I will read a little, if the world +stops because of it. But about the faces. First one is when he was +crying because he couldn't have sugar on his potatoes. Next one is when +he was spunky at Frankie Snow for bursting his little red balloon. The +pleased-looking face is when father brought him home a little ship all +rigged, and the laughing one is when the cow put her head in the window. +We tell him we'll have them framed and hung up so he can see just how he +looks. Mother says 't is all very well to laugh at Tommy, but she +guesses some older ones' pictures wouldn't always look smiling and +pleasant, take them the year through! + +[Illustration] + +As soon as your finger is itself again do write, for we miss your +letters. We expect to have gay times here this summer. Company coming, +but we sha' n't make company of them. Except to have splendid times. +What shall we do evenings? If you go anywhere where there is anything +going on, do write us about it, so we can go on the same way. When are +you coming? Write me a good long letter when you can. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +LUCY MARIA. + +Your father is going to write you a letter. Quite wonderful for him. O +William Henry, you don't know how much I think of your father, and what +a good man he is! I guess you'd better write to your grandmother before +you do me; she's so pleased to have you write to her. + +Father wants to know when that ball hit you if you _bawled_. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Maria's "picture-taker" made a great deal of fun for them, and +possibly did some good. She constructed a queer long-handled affair, +and, at the most unexpected moments, this would be thrust before the +faces of different members of the family, more especially Tommy, +Matilda, or Georgiana, and their "pictures" would be sure to appear to +them soon after, "glad, or mad, or sad, or any way." + +And the plan of "summer boarders" also furnished entertainment. The talk +on this subject was quite amusing, particularly when it touched the +subject of "advertising." Lucy Maria suggested this ending:-- + +"None but the silly, or the really well-informed need apply." But Mr. +Carver thought such a notice would fail of bringing a single boarder. +For silly people did not know they were silly, and the really +well-informed were the very last ones to think themselves so. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Aunt Phebe._ + +DEAR AUNT PHEBE,-- + +I thank you for taking your time to write to me, when you have so much +work to do. My forefinger has about recovered the use of itself. The +middle one did go lame a spell, but now 't is very well, I thank you. +Mrs. Wedding Cake did them up for me. I think she's a very kind woman. +Dorry says he'd put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes, or lay +down his life, if she wanted him to, or anything else, for the only +woman he knows that will smile on boys' mud and on boys' noise. + +Ten of us went on an excursion with the teacher, half-price, to Boston, +and had a long ride in the cars, over forty miles. We went everywhere, +and saw lots of things. Went into the Natural History building. You can +go in for nothing. You stand on the floor, at the bottom and look way up +to the top. All round inside are galleries running round, with alcoves +letting out of them, where they keep all sorts of unknown beasts and +birds and bugs and snakes. Some of those great birds are regular +smashers! 'Most dazzles your eyes to look at their feathers, they're +such bright red! I'd just give a guess how tall they were, but don't +believe I'd come within a foot or two. Also butterflies of every kind, +besides skeletons of monkeys and children and minerals and all kinds of +grasses and seeds, and nuts there such as you never cracked or thought +of! They are there because they are seeds, not because they are nuts. +And there's a cast of a great ugly monster, big as several elephants, +that used to walk round the earth before any men lived in it. If he +wasn't a ripper! Could leave his hind feet on the ground and put his +fore paws up in the trees and eat the tops off! They call him a +Megotharium! I hope he's spelt right, though he ought not to expect it, +and I don't know as it makes much difference, seeing he lived thousands +of years before the flood, and lucky he did, Dorry says, for the old ark +couldn't have floated with many of that sort aboard. He wasn't named +till long after he was dead and buried. Patient waiter is no loser, +Dorry says, for he's got more name than the ones that live now, and is +taken more notice of. We saw a cannon-ball on the side of Brattle Street +Church, where 't was fired in the Revolution, and we went to the top of +the State House. Made our knees ache going up so many steps, but it +pays. For you can look all over the harbor, and all round the country, +and see the white towns, and steeples, for miles and miles. Boston was +built on three hills and the State House is on one of them. I can't +write any more, now. + +W. B. has left school, because his father got a place for him in New +York. His father thought he was old enough to begin. He's a good deal +older than I am. + +From your affectionate Nephew, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +[Illustration] + +How do you like this picture of that great Mego--I won't try to spell +him again--eating off the tree-tops? The leaves on the trees then were +different from the ones we have now. Dorry made the leaves, and I made +the creature. + + * * * * * + +_A Letter to William Henry from his Father._ + +MY DEAR SON,-- + +Perhaps you have thought that because I am rather a silent man, and do +not very often write you a letter, that I have not very much feeling and +do not take interest in you. But no one knows how closely I am watching +my boy as Time is bringing him up from boyhood to manhood. + +Sometimes your grandmother worries about your being where there may be +bad boys; but I tell her that among so many there must be both good and +bad, and if you choose the bad you show very poor judgment. I think if a +boy picks out bad companions it shows there is something bad in himself. + +She says I ought to keep giving you good advice, now you are just +starting in life, and charge you to be honest and truthful and so forth. +I tell her that would be something as it would be if you were just +starting on a pleasant journey, and I should say, "Now, William Henry, +don't put out your own eyes at the beginning, or cut the cords of your +legs!" Do you see what I mean? A boy that is _not_ honest and truthful +puts out his own eyes and cripples himself at the very beginning. + +There is a good deal said about arriving at honor and distinction. I +don't want you to think about _arriving_ at honor. I want you to take +honor to start with. And as for distinction, a man, in the long run, is +never distinguished for anything but what he really is. So make up your +mind just what you want to pass for, and be it. For you will pass for +what you are, not what you try to appear. Go into the woods and see how +easily you can tell one tree from another. You see oak leaves on one, +and you know that is oak all the way through. You see pine needles on +another, and you know that is pine all the way through. A pine-tree may +want to look like an oak, and try to look like an oak, and think it does +look like an oak, as it can't see itself. But nobody is cheated. So a +rascally fellow may want to appear fair and honest, and try to appear +fair and honest, and think he does appear fair and honest, as he can't +see himself. But, in the long run, nobody is cheated. For you can read a +man's character about as easy as you can the leaves on the trees. +Sometimes I sit down in a grocery store and hear the neighbors talked +about, and 't is curious to find how well everybody is known. It seems +as if every man walked round, labelled, as you may say, same as preserve +jars are labelled, currant, quince, &c. Only he don't know what his +label is. Just as likely as not a man may think his label is Quince +Marmelade, when 't is only Pickled String Beans! + +Just so with boys. Grown folks notice boys a great deal, though when I +was a boy, I never knew they did. The little affairs of play-time and +school-time, and their home-ways are all talked over, and by the time a +boy is twelve years old, it is pretty well known what sort of a man he +will make. + +Now don't mistake my meaning. I don't want you to be true because +people will know it if you are not, but because it is right and noble to +be so. I want you to be able to respect yourself. Never do anything that +you like yourself any the less for doing. + +A boy of your age is old enough to be looking ahead some, to see what he +is aiming at. I don't suppose you want to drift, like the sea-weed, that +lodges wherever the waves toss it up! Set up your mark, and a good high +one. And be sure and remember that, as a general thing, there is no such +thing as luck. If a man seems to be a lucky merchant, or lawyer, or +anything else, 't is because he has the talent, the industry, the +determined will, that make him so. People see the luck, but they don't +always see the "taking pains" that's behind it. I remember you wrote us +a letter once, and spoke of a nice house, with nice things inside, that +you meant to have by "trying hard enough." There's a good deal in that. +We've got to try hard, and try long, and try often, and try again, and +keep trying. That house never'll come down to you. You've got to climb +up to it, step by step. I don't know as I have anything to say about the +folly of riches. On the contrary, I think 't is a very good plan to have +money enough to buy books and other things worth having. I don't see why +a man can't be getting knowledge and growing better, at the same time he +is growing richer. Some poor folks have a prejudice against rich folks. +I haven't any. Rich people have follies, but poor people copy them if +they can. That is to say, we often see poor people making as big fools +of themselves as they can, with the means they have. Money won't hurt +you, Billy, so long as you keep common sense and a true heart. + +We are all watching you and thinking of you, here at home. If you +_should_ go wrong 't would be a sad blow for both families. Perhaps I +ought to tell you how I feel towards you, and how, ever since your +mother's death, my heart has been bound up in you and Georgie. You would +then know what a crushing thing it would be to me if you were found +wanting in principle. But I am not very good, either at talking or +writing, so do remember, dear boy, that even when I don't say a word, +I'm thinking about you and loving you always. God bless you! + +From your affectionate + +FATHER. + +W. B., it seems, from his own account, set sail on the great sea of +commerce with flying colors, and favorable winds,--probably the +Trade-winds. + + * * * * * + +_Old Wonder Boy to William Henry._ + +DEAR FRIEND,-- + +I like my place, and think it is a very excellent one. It is "Veazey & +Summ's." When you get a place it is my advice that you should procure +one in New York, as New York is greatly superior to Boston. Boston is a +one-horse place. I wouldn't be seen riding in that slow coach. +Washington Street could be put whole into Broadway, and not know it was +there hardly, for you could travel both sides and all round it. Our +store is a very excellent store. Some consider it greatly superior to +Stewart's. All our clerks dress in very superior style and go in very +good society, and so I learn to use very good language. We keep boys to +do the errands, and porters. All the stylish people do their trading +here. The young ladies like to trade with me very much. The New York +ladies are greatly superior to any other ladies. The firm think a great +deal of me, so I expect to be promoted quite fast. I am learning to +smoke. I have got a very handsome pipe. The head clerk thinks it has got +a very superior finish to it. We two are quite thick. How are all the +fellers? Write soon. Remember me to all inquiring friends, and excuse +handwriting. + +Your friend, + +WALTER BRIESDEN. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Matilda._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +Now I'm going to answer your letter, and then I sha' n't have to think +about it any longer. I was sorry to hear about poor Reddie. But if it +had been Tommy, then it would have been a great deal worse. Think of +that. Dorry and I have been wishing 'most a week about something, and +now I'll tell you what 't is about. About a party. 'T is going to be at +Colonel Grey's. He lives in a large light-colored brick house, with a +piazza round it, and a fountain, and bronze dogs, and everything lovely. +It is Maud Grey's birthday party. Sixteen years old. Old and young are +going to be invited, because her little sister's birthday comes next day +to hers. Now sometimes when there's a party some of the biggest of our +fellows get invited, because there are not very many young gentlemen in +town, and they are glad to take some from the school. But we two never +have yet. But Dorry thinks we stand a better chance now, for we've been +to dancing-school, and will do to fill up sets with. Maud Grey didn't +go as a scholar, but she went spectator sometimes, and took my partner's +place once, when her string of beads broke. Dorry was in the same set. I +never polkaed better in my life, for she took me round and made me keep +time whether I wanted to or not, but I told Dorry I felt just like a +little boy that had been lifted over a puddle. He's afraid she won't +remember us, but I guess I'm afraid she will, and then won't invite such +a bad dancer. We two thought we'd walk by the house, just for fun, and +make ourselves look tall. So we held up our chins, and swung two little +canes we'd cut, going along, for small chaps are plenty enough, but +young gentlemen go off to college, or stores, soon's they're of any +size. The blinds were all shut up, but Dorry said there was hope if the +slats were turned the right way. Blind slats here move all ways. +Yesterday, in school-time, I saw a colored man coming towards the +school-house, and thought 't was Cicero, the one that works for Colonel +Grey, coming with the invitations, and made a loud "hem!" for Dorry to +look up, and a hiss, to mean Cicero, and pointed out doors. 't wasn't +very loud, but that one we call Brown Bread, that has eyes in the back +of his head, and ears all over him, and smells rat where there isn't +any, and wears slippers, so you can't hear him, even if 'tis still +enough to drop a pin,--I thought he was over the other side of the room, +tending to his own affairs, but all of a sudden he was standing just +back of me, and I had to lose a recess just for that. And 't wasn't +Cicero after all, but the one that comes after the leavings.--(Somebody +knocks.) + +_Afternoon._--Hurrah! We're going! The one that knocked at the door was +Spicey, with our invitations. When I come home I'll bring them home to +show. They came through the post-office. We expect they all came to the +professor, with orders to pick out the ten tallest ones, for they are +directed in his writing. I never went to such a party, and shouldn't +know how to behave, if 't wasn't for Dorry. First thing you do is to go +up and speak to the lady of the house and the lady of the party. I mean +after you've been up stairs, and looked in the looking-glass and +smoothed down your hair. Mine always comes up again. I've tried water +and I've tried oil, and I've tried beef-marrow, but 't is bound to come +up. Dorry says I ought to put it in a net. Don't you remember that time +I had my head shaved off close, and how it looked like an orange? I'm +glad 't isn't so red as it was. 'T is considerable dark now. When you +come down you walk up to the lady of the house and say "How do you do?" +and shake hands, and when you go home you have to bid her good-night, +and say you've had a very pleasant time, and shake hands again. Not +shove out your fist, as if you were shoving a croquet-ball, but slow, +with the fingers about straight, and not speak it out blunt, as if you +were singing out "good-night!" to the fellers, but quite softly and +smiling. Dorry's been showing me beforehand. Bubby Short stood up in the +floor, and had the bedspread tied round him with a cod-line, for a +trail, and shavings for curls. He was the lady of the house and we +walked up to him, and said, "How do you do, Mrs. Grey?" and so forth. +Dorry drew this picture of us. He draws better than I do. I will write +about the party. + +[Illustration] + +From your Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to his Grandmother._ + +MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-- + +Now if you will be a good little grandmother, and promise never to worry +any more, then I'll tell you about that party. We had to wear white +gloves. I'll begin at the outside. The piazzas had colored lights +hanging round them, and there were colored lights hung in the trees and +the gateways. 'T was a foggy night, and those colored lights lighted up +the fog all around, so when you came towards the place it looked just +like a great bright spot in the midst of darkness. There was a tall +lady, standing in the middle of the room, with a splendid dress on, +dragging way behind her, and I went right up to her, and just got my +foot the way Mr. Tornero told us, and the palm of my hand right, when +Dorry jerked me back by my jacket and said she wasn't the right one. +You see we got belated, going back after our clean pocket-handkerchiefs, +and hurried so that Dorry fell down and muddied his trousers' knees, but +lucky 't was close to the Two Betseys' shop, for we went in there and +got sponged up, but we had to wait for 'em to dry. Lame Betsey said she +used to take care of Maud Grey when she was a little scrap, and she +wanted to make her a birthday present. So they both hunted round, to see +if they had anything. In the desk they found a little thin book, a +funny-looking old blue-covered book, "Advice to a Young Lady," that was +given to Lame Betsey when she was young. The title was on the blue +cover. 'T was a funny-looking thing and it smelt snuffy. She asked me to +give it to Maud, after she'd written her name in it. I tell you now Lame +Betsey makes quite good letters! I didn't want to take the book, but I +did, for both Betseys are clever women. + +[Illustration] + +All this was the reason we got belated, and Mrs. Grey had got mixed up +with the other people, but we found her and did the right thing by her. +And Maud too. I don't think any of you would believe that I could +behave so well! so polite I mean. Course I didn't feel bashful any! O +no! + +They had four pieces, and they played as if they knew how. I didn't +dance at the first of it. Didn't dare to. 'T was too light there. The +carpets were covered with white. Then chandeliers, and lamps, and wax +candles, and flowers everywhere they could be, set up in vases,--one +lady called vases, varzes,--and hanging-baskets. I never was in such a +beautiful place. The ladies sang at the piano, and the young gentlemen +turned their leaves over. O you ought to 've heard 'em when the tunes +went up, up, up! Enough to make you catch your breath! Seemed as if it +could never get down again. I don't like that kind. But Dorry said 'twas +opera style and nobody was to blame but me, if I didn't like it. Now +John Brown's Body, I like that, and when they all sang that, I joined +right in, same as any of them. For I knew I knew that tune. But first +one looked round at me, and then another looked round at me, as if +something was the matter. I thought I saw 'em smiling. Then I kept +still. But I didn't know I was singing wrong. O, I do wish I knew what +this singing is! Seems easy enough. Now when the tune goes up loud, I go +up loud, and when that goes down low, I go down low. But Dorry says it +isn't singing. Says 'tis discord. But I can't tell discord from any +other cord, and he says the harder I try, the worse noise I make. I do +wish I could roar out that Glory Hallelujah! for I feel the tune inside +of me, but it never comes out right. Dorry laughs when I set out to +sing. He says I chase the tune up and down all the way through, and +never hit it! Now, if 't is right inside, why can't it come out right? I +don't see! + +We went into a large room to eat refreshments, and I wish Aunt Phebe +could see the things we had. And taste of them too. I saved the frosting +off my cake for Tommy. 'T is wrapped up in a paper in my trunk. 'T is +different from your frosting, good deal harder. I had a sort of funny +time in that room. Somebody had to hit my elbow when I was passing +custard to a girl, and joggled over a mess of it on to her white dress +and my trousers. I whipped out my pocket-handkerchief to sop it up, and +whipped out that little blue book. Somebody picked it up, and one young +man, that had been cutting up all the evening, Maud Grey's cousin, he +got hold of it and read her name and called out to her to come get her +present, and made a good deal of fun about it, and began to read it +loud. She wanted to know who brought it, and somebody told her I was the +one. I began to grow red as fire, but all of a sudden I thought, Now, +Billy, what's the use? So I said very plain, "Miss Grey, Lame Betsey +sent you that book." She didn't laugh very much, only smiled and asked +me to tell Lame Betsey she was glad that she remembered her. Guess she +thought I looked bashful, for afterwards she asked me if I wouldn't try +a polka with her. I don't think she's very proud, for when I was looking +at a painted vase, she came and told me how it was done, for all I +wasn't much acquainted with her. She talked to me as easy and sociable +as if she'd been Lucy Maria. + +A company of us got together in one of the rooms and ate our ice-creams +there, and while we were eating them, we beheaded words. Lucy Maria must +read this letter, for she'll want to know how. When you behead a word +you take off the first letter. It's fun, when you get beheading them +fast. The spelling mustn't be changed. Dorry made some of these. I +didn't. I couldn't think fast enough. + +Behead an article of dress, and you leave a farming tool. + +Shoe--hoe. + +I'll put the rest of the answers at the bottom, so as to give all of you +a chance to guess what they are. + +1. Behead what leads men to fight, and you leave the cause of much +misery, sin, and death. + +2. Behead what young ladies are said to be fond of, and you leave a +young lady. + +3. Behead what comes nearest the hand, and you leave what comes nearest +the heart. + +4. Behead something sweet, and it leaves an address to the sweet. + +5. Behead part of a coach, and you leave part of yourself. Behead that, +and you leave a fish. + +6. Behead a rogue, and you leave a musician. + +7. Behead an old-fashioned occupation, and you leave what prevents many +a parting. + +8. Behead a part of ladies' apparel, and you leave what is higher than +the king. + +9. Behead what always comes hard, and you leave what makes things go +easy. + +10. Behead a weapon, and you leave a fruit. Behead that, and you leave +part of the body. + + 1. Drum, rum. + 2. Glass, lass. + 3. Glove, love. + 4. Molasses, O Lasses! + 5. Wheel, heel, eel. + 6. Sharper, harper. + 7. Spin, pin. + 8. Lace, ace. + 9. Toil, oil. + 10. Spear, pear, ear. + +Sometimes they make them in rhyme. + + Behead what is born in the fire, + And lives but a moment or so,-- + For it can't live long you know,-- + And you leave what all admire. + Where grass so green doth grow, + And trees in many a row. + Behead this last, and you leave in its place + What once preserved the human race. + +Spark, park, ark. + + Behead a musical term so sweet, + And you leave what runs without any feet. + Behead again, and, sad to tell, + You leave what is sick and never gets well. + To what is left add the letter D, + And you have a lawyer of high degree. + +Trill, rill, ill, "LL D." + +I've got something a good deal funnier to tell, but I'm going to write +all about that in Lucy Maria's letter. I guess she'll be very glad when +she gets that letter, for 'twill tell her how to do something very +funny. I will send her the story of it too, so she won't have to make up +anything herself. Don't you think I had a pretty good time? I hope my +sister is well, and hope you all are. Lucy Maria must read this letter. +She could make those beheadings quicker'n lightning. I am well. Don't +believe I shall ever be sick. + +From your affectionate Grandson, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. I've been to a lecture on good health. The man said there were two +parts to the air, a good part and a poison part, and every time we +breathe we keep in the good part, and breathe out the poison part. So if +a room were sealed up, air-tight, a man living in it would soon die, for +he would use up all the good part and leave the poison part. So we ought +to always let fresh air in, that hasn't been breathed. He says in a +crowded room, if there is no fresh air coming in, we have to use over +what other folks have breathed, whether they are sick or well. + +W. H. + + * * * * * + +What with our young friend's frequent visits to the Two Betseys, his +attendance at the dancing-school, and going to parties and to lectures, +it would seem as though his time was not wholly taken up with his +studies. Among William Henry's letters to Lucy Maria I find the +following one about the Dwarf, and with it, in Lucy Maria's handwriting, +I find a copy of the Narrative alluded to. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry to Lucy Maria._ + +DEAR COUSIN,-- + +I guess you will want to know how this was done, that I'm going to write +about, so I will tell you about it, then you will know how to make one +out of Tommy, but I guess a bigger boy would be better. It doesn't make +much difference about the size, if he can keep a sober face while +somebody tells a story about him, and do the things he's told to. I +couldn't guess how 't was done till Bubby Short told me. Bubby Short was +the dwarf. He was invited on purpose, because he is up to all kinds of +fun, and can act dialogues, be an old man, or old woman, or anything you +want him to. I will tell you exactly how 't was done, so you will know. +And I will send you the Narrative to copy. But you can't keep it very +long. It was given to Bubby Short. The showman was Maud Grey's cousin. +He was dressed in a turban, with long robes, and he had black rings made +round his eyes, and his face was tatooed with a lead-pencil. Course he +made up the story and made the pictures to it too. But he pretended he +got them in the dwarf's country, that was named "Empskutia." I thought +maybe you'd like to read it, then if you made one you could think of +something to say. 'T was only meant for the little ones, he said, but we +all liked to hear it. No matter if it was nonsense, we didn't care. Now, +I'll begin. + +First, they had a table, with a long table-cloth on it that touched the +floor. It must touch the floor, so as to hide the _real_ feet of the one +that's going to be the dwarf. When Bubby Short was all ready he sat down +to the table, same as if he'd been doing his examples or eating his +dinner,--sat facing the company and waited for the curtain to rise. +Course you have to have a curtain. The table-cloth covered the lower +part of him. His own hands and arms were turned into feet and legs for +the dwarf. I'll tell you how. The arms had little trousers on them, and +the hands were put into nice little button-boots, so they looked like +legs and feet. He was all stuffed out above his waist, and had on a +stiff shirt bosom, and breastpin, and necktie, and false whiskers, and a +wig made of black curled hair, and a tasselled cap, with a gilt band +round it. He crooked his arms at the elbows and laid them flat on the +table, with the button-boots towards the curtain, so when the curtain +went up it looked like a little dwarf sitting down, facing the company. +Now I must tell you where the dwarf's arms and hands came from. For you +know that Bubby Short's arms and hands were made into legs and feet for +the dwarf. Now to make arms, he had on a little coat, with the sleeves +of it stuffed out to look like arms, and then a stuffed pair of white +cotton gloves was sewed on to the sleeves, to look like hands, and these +gloves were pinned together by the fingers in front of his waist so as +to look like clasped hands. + +The showman asked him to do different things. Asked him to try to stand +up. Then Bubby Short began to get up, very slow, as if 't was tough work +to do it, and let his arms straighten themselves down, and looked just +as if there was a little short fellow standing on the table. I thought +like enough you'd like to know how, so as to make one some time, out of +Tommy or some bigger boy that knows how to whistle. The showman made his +dwarf whistle a funny tune, and told us 't was an air of his native +country. Then made him step out the tune with his little button-boots, +and it seemed just like a little dancing dwarf. The showman said that +was the national dance of his country. I guess Uncle Jacob would like to +see one. I guess his eyes would twinkle. + +When the curtain went up you ought to 've heard the folks roar! Some of +them thought 't was real. When the company asked him if he could move +his arms, he shook his head, no. Then the showman said he could make him +do it, by whispering a charm in his ear. So he went close up and +whispered, and took out the pin that pinned the gloves, in a secret way, +and then the arms dropped apart. All the way he could move his arms was +by shaking his body, and then only a little. The showman said the +fearful accident that stopped his growth lost him the use of his arms, +though he could dance and whistle and make a bow [_here he made him make +a bow_], and could scratch his ear with his boot [_here he scratched his +ear with the button-boot-toe_], but his brain was strong as anybody's. +Then afterwards he told how much he knew. But you can read about it in +the Narrative. He made him crook his knees sideways. He could do this +easy enough, for 't was only the elbows bending outwards. Then he made +him sit down again. I don't believe any of you ever saw anything so +funny. The showman kept a very sober face all the time, and 'most made +us believe every word of his story was true, and at the end he spoke +very loud and acted it out, like an orator. + +Your affectionate Cousin, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + +P. S. Will you please send back the picture of that creature we sent you +once? We want to do something with it. I put in the Narrative some of +the things the audience did. + + +NARRATIVE. + +MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-- + +Hyladdu Alizamrald, the unfortunate gentleman now before you, was born +in the country of Empskutia, on the borders of the great unknown region +of Phlezzogripotamia, which lies beyond the sources of the river +Phlezzra. He was the only child of a nobleman, whose wealth was +unbounded, and whose power was immense. The day of his birth was made a +day of rejoicing throughout the city. Not only were fountains of wine +set flowing, that none might go athirst (for the Empskutians are driest +when they're happiest), but living fountains of milk also, that every +child might, on that happy day, drink its fill of the pure infantine +fluid. It is perhaps needless to remark that these last were cows, +driven in from the surrounding plains. + +Hyladdu was an infant of great promise, and bade fair to become the +pride of his native land, instead of being--of being--pardon my emotion. +[_Showman puts handkerchief to his eyes. Hyladdu wipes away a tear with +his boot-toe._] Yes, gentlemen and ladies [_calmer_], at his birth there +seemed to be no reason why Hyladdu's head should not rise as far towards +the clouds as will yours, my smiling young friends before me. Briefly, +he was not born a dwarf. Shall I relate how this sweet flower of promise +was nipped in the bud? [_The audience cry, "Yes! yes!" Hyladdu takes his +handkerchief in both boots and wipes his eyes._] + +Listen, then. When Hyladdu had reached the age of eighty-one +days--eighty-one being the third multiple of three--his parents, +according to the custom of the country, summoned to the cradle of the +young child a Thulsk. + +The Thulski are a tall, mysterious race of prophets, known only in +Empskutia, who attain to an unknown age. Many of them cannot even +remember their own boyhood. These prophets are reverenced by all the +people. As year after year is added to their life, they grow thin, dark, +and shrivelled, like mummies. The skin is dry and hangs loose about the +bones. The hair is long and white, and every year adds to its length and +its whiteness, while the eyes seem blacker and more piercing. They wear +very high black caps, square, and carry in the hand a peculiar flower, a +snow-white flower, having five petals, which grows in secret places, and +which, even if found, no other person ever dare to pluck, lest its +peculiar smell should work a charm upon them. None but the Thulski +themselves know when and where the Thulski die. If they have graves they +are unknown graves, though it is a common belief in the country that the +mysterious white-petalled flower blooms only in their burial-places. +During life they live apart from all others, seldom speaking, even when +mingled in the busy crowd. + +The order of the Thulski is kept up in this way. Their chief, clad in +long dark robes, wanders silently the streets, and when, among the +children at play, he discovers one who has some peculiar mark about +him,--the nature of this mark is unknown,--he beckons, and the child +follows him. Must follow him. For that silent beckoning joins him to +their order. He is from that moment a Thulsk, and has no wish to +escape. + +Now, although to be a Thulsk is to be certain of long life, yet no +mother desires this fate for her child, but, on the contrary, children +are warned against them, and have among themselves a secret sign, a +rapid motion of the fingers, which means "scatter!" And if, when they +are at play, the white-haired prophet is seen, though even at a great +distance, this sign is rapidly made, and the little flock disappears so +instantly, one would suppose the earth had swallowed them. You will see, +before my melancholy story is finished, what all this has to do with +Hyladdu's misfortune. + +As I was saying, when he had attained the age of eighty-one +days,--eighty-one being the third multiple of three,--his parents, +according to the custom of the Empskutians, summoned one of these +prophets to the cradle of their child, that his fortunes might be +foretold. + +The weird, shrivelled old Thulsk, with his flowing white hair, wrapped +his dark robes about him, and sat silently at the low cradle, gazing +upon the sleeping child. At length he arose, with a look of sorrow, and +would have departed without uttering a single word. + +"Speak! speak!" cried the father. + +"Ah, do not speak!" murmured the mother; for she perceived that the +prophet foresaw evil. "Yet speak, yes, speak!" she cried. "Let us know +the worst, that we may prepare ourselves." + +The prophet then made a reply, of which these five words are a +translation:-- + +"Sorrow cometh sufficiently soon. Wait!" + +But, on being very earnestly entreated, he disclosed that before the +beautiful infant attained his sixth year--six being the double of +three--he would sustain injuries from a fall, by which either his mind +or his body would be blighted. Which, it was not given him to say. He +added that it grieved him to still further disclose that he himself +would be in some way connected with the child's misfortune, though in +what way even his prophetic vision could not foresee. + +Now it may readily be supposed that the parents spared no pains to ward +off from their child this unknown danger. The upper windows were +immediately fastened down, fresh air being secured by means of hinges on +each square of glass. As soon as he could walk sentinels were placed at +every flight of stairs, and to keep him out of the cellar, a neighboring +wine-merchant was invited to store his goods there, so that wine-butts +took up every inch of room, from floor to ceiling. Ladders and movable +steps he was not allowed the sight of, and as it seems as natural for +boys to climb trees as to breathe the air around them, every tree in the +grounds was protected by sharp iron teeth. + +The longing which every boy has to climb is called the climbing +instinct. In Hyladdu the climbing instinct was nipped in the +bud,--smothered, crushed, kept under. He was forbidden to swing on +gates, taught to avoid fence-posts, lamp-posts, and flag-staffs, and to +look upon hills as summits of danger. Of shinning, he knew but the name. +And that the very idea of climbing might be kept from his mind, all +climbing plants were rooted out from the grounds; not even a +morning-glory was allowed to run up a string! By these means the anxious +parents hoped to prevent what the Thulsk had foretold, from coming to +pass. "For," said they, "if he never goes up, he can never fall down." +But mark now how all these precautions were the very means of making the +prophecy prove true. For, had he only been taught to climb, and had been +accustomed to high places, that sad accident might not have taken place +and the blighted individual before you might now have been one of the +flowers of his country! [_Emotion._] Pardon me, friends. Tears come +unbidden. [_Showman holds handkerchief to his eyes. Dwarf ditto, with +boots._] + +Imagine now the dear child, grown a beautiful boy of five summers,--a +boy of beaming blue eyes, and a rosy cheek! of flaxen curls and a +graceful motion! The idol of his parents, the joy of his friends! Sweet +in disposition, of tender feelings, quick to learn, truthful, +affectionate, gentle in his manners, winning in his ways, no wonder that +he was so well beloved! + +It was only one short week before his sixth birthday, and his friends +were trembling with joy, that the fatal time had so nearly passed, when +the calamity which had so long hung over him like a cloud descended upon +him like a thunderbolt! In other words, he lacked but a week of six, and +all were rejoicing that the danger was nearly passed, when the event +happened. + +Hyladdu, being, like most boys, of a playful turn of mind, was sometimes +permitted to join in the games of other children, in front of his +father's mansion, attended always by a faithful servant. On this +particular day they were amusing themselves by playing with some +silver-coated marbles, a box of which had been presented to Hyladdu by +his grandmother, who was one of the court ladies. + +A very pretty group they were. The children of that country, like their +fathers, were dressed in long white robes, with bright sashes. On their +heads they wore caps of blue or scarlet, which turned up with points +before, behind, and at each side. On each point a little silver bell was +hung, that the servants might have less difficulty in following them +about. Their shoes were pointed at the toes. + +Among those silver marbles was an "alley" of great beauty, glistening +with rubies, and inlaid with pearl. This alley never was played for in +earnest. [_Here the dwarf beckons to the showman, and whispers in his +ear._] He informs me that the laws forbade playing in earnest. I will +now finish as rapidly as possible. + +In the course of the game, this precious "alley" rolled a long distance, +until it came to a brick in the pavement, which was set slanting, or had +become so by a sinking of the ground underneath. This brick gave the +"alley" a turn sideways to the left, and it rolled at last through a +crack in the garden fence, and hid itself in the grass. The servant, in +great haste, darted through the gate in search of it. + +Meanwhile, slowly down the street, though at a distance, a Thulsk was +approaching. It was the same who had nearly six years before sat by +Hyladdu's cradle. He walked silently on, his eyes cast down, his hands +clasped, holding between them the five-petalled flower. One of the boys, +perceiving him, made the sign of warning. Instantly they scattered, like +a flock of pigeons, leaving their little silver-belled caps on the +ground. Hyladdu, seeing the cellar open, would have hidden himself +there, but no space was left between the wine-butts. A much larger boy +seized his hand and pulled him into a strange house, and then, in his +fright, dragged him through long passage-ways, and up seven flights of +stairs; for the Empskutians build their houses to an immense height. +Here they sat down to breathe awhile, and Hyladdu begged the boy to go +for the faithful servant, that he might lead him home. + +Now no sooner was the boy gone than Hyladdu began to look about him, and +presently he discovered a slender staircase going still higher. Having +climbed seven flights with help, he felt no fear in attempting the +eighth alone. This slender staircase conducted him to the roof of the +building. [_Emotion and handkerchief._] Excuse my emotion. But when I +think what might have happened, if something else had not happened to +prevent, when I think that he might have fallen from that immense +height, to be dashed in pieces beneath, I--I--But I will let my story +take its course. + +And now let me tell you that the people of Empskutia were very fond of +the beautiful. The streets were adorned with ornamental trees, and over +the roofs of the houses were trained flowering vines, which ran to the +highest peak of cupola or chimney, and, blooming sweetly there, filled +the whole air with fragrance. It was the custom of the people to place +stout iron hooks along the eaves of their dwellings, from which were +suspended immense flower-pots of various beautiful designs. In these +pots the flowering vines took root and from thence not only climbed the +roof, but trailed gracefully down, thus giving the city a festive +appearance, like a never-ending gala-day. + +When Hyladdu looked out from the top of that last eighth flight, the +long-smothered instinct of climbing burst out like a hidden fire. It +would not be restrained. Ah, now will be seen the folly of crushing that +instinct. Had he only have been accustomed to dizzy heights, made +familiar with danger, how different might have been his fate! +[_Emotion._] + +The instinct of climbing, as I said, was now strong upon him! No sooner +did he perceive that there was still a height to gain than he resolved +to gain that height. Nothing less would satisfy him than sitting astride +the ridgepole, where a pair of bright-feathered birds had built their +nest, and were then feeding their young. He ventured out, made his way +cautiously up, holding on by the vines. Ah, could his parents have seen +him then! + +He arrived at the top, and there, seated on that lofty pinnacle, +surrounded by beautiful flowers, he gazed on the scene below, and +enjoyed a new happiness. For the first time in his life he looked down +from a height! for the first time in his life he gazed abroad over a +wide extended country! + +Such pleasure he had never known, and the faithful servant, anxiously +searching, might have found him there, still enjoying it, but for a +pretty little bluebird, that flew suddenly down and startled him, while +he was gazing at some object far away. This little bird came flying +through the air, and alighted for an instant on the child's head, +thinking perhaps to make its nest in the soft curls, or it might have +thought his rosy lips were cherries. The suddenness with which it came +startled Hyladdu. He trembled, he lost his hold, slipped, then caught +by a vine, it gave way, he slipped again, but, having no skill in +climbing, slipped lower and lower, and would have fallen from the roof +and been dashed in pieces, but for that custom which was mentioned just +now, of suspending large flower-pots from the eaves. It happened that +his course lay directly towards one of these iron hooks. He dropped, +therefore, into the immense flower-pot beneath, where he lay as secure +as a babe in its cradle! + +From this frightful position he was at length rescued by one of the hook +and ladder company of that city, and placed in his mother's arms. His +own arms were nearly paralyzed by his frantic efforts to cling to some +support, so that ever afterwards he could move them but very slightly, +as you perceive. [_Dwarf moves his arms slightly, by shaking his body._] +And though the child's life was spared, yet the terrible fright had the +effect of stopping his growth! Yes, my young friends, Hyladdu never grew +more, except in wisdom! The innocent cause of all this, the poor +sorrowing grandmother, died of remorse! + +And now my story becomes a more pleasing one to tell. Although the +child's body remained dwarfed in size, yet his heart grew in goodness, +and his mind grew in knowledge, and he was beloved and respected by all. +Debarred earthly mountains, he mounted the heights of learning. The +climbing instinct, which his body could not satisfy, was developed in +his mind. He craved books, he craved whole libraries. Teacher after +teacher came, all exhausting upon him their treasures of knowledge. +Music and drawing, studied scientifically, were his amusements. He +mastered astronomy, mineralogy, algebra, conchology, trigonometry, +physiology, engineering, metaphysics, technology, geology, phrenology, +also foreign languages unnumbered, with all the literature belonging to +each. [_Sensation in the audience._] And when at last the storehouses of +wisdom seemed exhausted, a report reached him of a great country beyond +the seas, called the United States of America, in whose excellent +schools there remains something yet to learn! [_Applause from the +audience._] + +He studied the written language of that country, read its history, and +resolved to seek its shores. For he longed to behold the land of the +Revolutionary War; to read the Declaration of Independence, and to stand +upon the grave of Old John Brown! [_Applause._] + +He had heard of Bunker's Hill. Travellers said that upon whomsoever +rested the shadow of its monument, that person possessed forever after +the unflinching bravery of those who bled and perished there! +[_Cheers._] He had heard of Plymouth Rock [_Cheers_], and been told that +his foot once planted firmly upon it, he would feel springing up within +him all the heroism, the self-sacrifice, and the everlasting +perseverance of the glorious Pilgrim Fathers! [_Prolonged cheering._] + +I have now, my young friends, told you, very briefly, the history of +this remarkable character. His age is thirty-four years. He is of a +cheerful disposition, having long ago resolved to look his misfortune +steadily in the face and make the best of it. In books, where are +treasures stored up by the scholars of all past time, he finds a +never-ending pleasure. Though dwarfed in stature, he is resolved to make +a man of himself, and will fight it out on that line if it takes all +summer. For he early adopted for his motto, these beautiful lines of Dr. +Watts,-- + + "Were I so tall as to reach the pole, + Or grasp the ocean in my span, + I should be measured by my soul. + The mind's the standard of the man." + +[_Applause._ + + (_Curtain falls._) + +I once heard the above narrative repeated by Joe in a truly theatrical +manner. On the same occasion I also saw the picture of the "creature" to +which William Henry refers in his postscript to the Dwarf Letter. + +Uncle Jacob hailed me one day as I was coming from my office, and after +driving close to the curbstone, informed me that Cousin Joe and his +accordion had arrived, both in good health and spirits. Also, that +Billy's school had met with a very sudden vacation, caused either by +flues, or furnaces, or both, having something the matter with them, and +the young rascal would be at home that evening, and I must come without +fail. "Of course you know," said he, "'tis a pretty hard thing for Billy +having to give up his studies, so he's coming home to his friends. +Nothing like being among friends when you're in trouble?" + +Now this was by no means a remarkable event. Only a boy coming home for +a few days to see his folks. Still, an occasion which worked Grandmother +up to the pitch of putting on her best cap should not be passed over in +silence. + +I went out to the Farm that evening, and on arriving found Cousin Joe, +and the accordion, and Aunt Phebe's family, with a few relatives whom I +had never met before, all assembled at Grandmother's. They had made up a +fire in the "Franklin fireplace." This "Franklin fireplace" was a sort +of iron framework, projecting from the chimney into the room. The top +was flat, with brass balls on the corners. It had iron sides, which +"flared out," and a rounded iron hearth of its own, about an inch above +the brick hearth, and shining brass andirons. + +No one could wish for a brighter room, I thought, for there was the +light from the fire, the light from the "lights," and the light from all +those smiling faces! An inviting supper-table was set out, covered +dishes were "keeping warm" on the hearth and "frame," and everything was +ready and waiting for William Henry. Mr. Carver had gone to the station, +and they were expected back every moment. + +Georgiana was very busy over a skein of blue sewing-silk. She informed +me that that was the first whole skein of sewing-silk she ever had in +all her life, and that it came from a bundle of all colors, which Cousin +Joe gave to Hannah Jane. It brought trouble with it, as it is said all +earthly possessions do, and snarled at all her attempts to coax it on to +a spool. Tommy, sober as a judge, was holding it for her to wind. He sat +in a little chair, with his legs crossed. His mother said he was very +particular to cross his legs, so as to seem more like a man. + +Lucy Maria had just persuaded Grandmother to put on her best, double +stringed, white-ribboned cap, in honor of William Henry. It was the very +one he brought her so long ago, but was still as good as new, having +very seldom seen the light of day, or of evening, since it first came +home in the bandbox. She had also been coaxed into her second-best +dress, and then into the rocking-chair. Lucy Maria tied her cap under +the chin, with the narrow strings, and smoothed down the wide ones. + +"You have no idea, Grandmother," said she. "You haven't the faintest +idea how well you look!" + +"'T is too dressy for me," said Grandmother. "It don't feel natural on +my head." + +"Now I should think," said Uncle Jacob, "that a cap would feel more +natural on anybody's head than anywhere!" + +"It looks natural," said Lucy Maria, "I'm sure it does. Looks as if it +grew there!" + +"And only think how 't will please Billy!" said Aunt. Phebe. + +[Illustration] + +The "_Map of the United States_" had been brought out of the front room, +and placed over the mantel-piece. And Lucy Maria, for fun, she said, and +to pay a delicate compliment to the artist, had fastened a few sprays of +upland cranberry around it. And, also, for fun, she pinned up near it a +little picture, which I had quite a laugh over, and which, she said, was +the renowned Megotharium, in the act of feeding drawn by the famous +artist, William Henry, assisted by his brother artist, Dorry. The +picture, she added, was not an _original_, but merely a copy done by a +female. A photograph of these two artists, sitting side by side, was +exhibited, underneath the picture. + +Cousin Joe said that _creature_ beat all his going to sea. This young +tailor, by the way, must have made a jolly shipmate. He was full of his +jokes and his tricks. Tried to twirl Tommy round, by rubbing him between +his two hands, as one does a top, telling him that was the way the +Hottentots did to take the mischief out of boys! + +Aunt Phebe said she thought if the Hottentots knew any way of taking the +mischief out of boys, and were out of work, they might find employment +in this country. + +Tommy begged to play "one tune," and was allowed to. Cousin Joe declared +that "that accordion was played every wave of the way across the +Atlantic," either by himself or by one of the sailors, and that +sometimes the mermaids sang to its music! Asked Tommy if he would like +to bear the tune the mermaids sang? Tommy said he should rather wait +till after supper. This was the way in which, company being present, the +young chap let it be known that he was hungry. + +Grandmother wondered, then, why they didn't come, and went to look out +of the window, putting up both hands, to keep the light of the room from +her eyes; then opened the outside door, to listen for the whistle; then +went to look at the kitchen clock; then came back, saying it was a good +deal past the time, and what could be the matter? + +She little knew who was behind, following her on tiptoe into the room. +William Henry himself! He was creeping in at the sink room door, just as +she turned to come back from looking at the clock, and followed softly +behind. She didn't notice how very smiling we all looked. Billy shook +his finger at us, to hush us. + +"I hope there hasn't anything happened to the cars," said she. + +"I hope so too!" shouted Billy. And, by a miraculous jump, he planted +himself, square foot, in front of his grandmother, who, of course, +walked straight into his arms! + +Then everybody shouted, and clapped, and shook hands, and kissed. The +cap got twisted about, and as if there were not confusion enough, Cousin +Joe began to caper about, and to play on his accordion tunes that were +never played before! + +Such a splendid fellow as Billy was! Such a hearty, laughing, breezy +fellow, with his thick head of hair, "not so red as it was," and his +honest, good-natured face! I didn't wonder they were all so glad to see +him. + +"Welcome home, shipmate!" shouted Cousin Joe. "Welcome home! How long'll +you be in port?" And worked away at Billy's hand as if he'd been pumping +out ship. + +"'Most a week," said Billy. "Mind my forefinger." + +"Don't take long to stay at home a week," said Cousin Joe, tossing up +his accordion. + +"That's so," said Uncle Jacob. "Come, let's be doing something!" + +"That means, let's be eating something," said Aunt Phebe. "Come, girls, +put everything on the table! Billy, how tall and spruce you do look! +Poor Grandmother, she's losing her little Billy!" + +"But what's her loss is his gain!" said Uncle Jacob. "I speak to sit +next the frosted cake. Where's Tommy?" + +Tommy came in, tugging Billy's carpet-bag, which he found in the +kitchen, hoping, no doubt, there were goodies inside for him. + +We had a delightful "supper-time," Grandmother, of course, piling +Billy's plate with everything good. + +"I see," said Mr. Carver, "that whatever boys eat at home grandmothers +expect will agree with them!" + +The happy "young rascal" meanwhile bore the separation from his studies +with amazing fortitude! Told no end of funny stories about the boys, and +about parties, and about the Two Betseys. And twice, during supper, he +exclaimed, "I do hope nothing has happened to those cars. They were such +good cars!" + +My visits to the farm were always delightful, but during that +supper-time, and during that evening, I grudged every moment as it flew +away. + +Uncle Jacob was in high glee, and insisted on being taught "the graces," +and on having his wife taught "the graces." Then Lucy Maria "set her +foot down" that every one should stand in the row, and Billy should be +Mr. Tornero. And, being a girl of resolution, she coaxed every one into +line, except Grandmother, who said her rheumatism should do her some +service then, if never before. + +"The graces" were then taught, and learned, amid shouts of laughter, +Cousin Joe playing for us, and I'll venture to say that had Mr. Tornero +been present, he would have been astonished at our steps, and also at +the music! + +Afterwards we had the dwarf shown off, Cousin Joe being the showman. He +declared after looking over the "Narrative," that Empskutia was a place +well known to him, and that he had often sailed up the "river Phlezzra," +to trade with the natives. Lucy Maria dressed him in a large-figured red +and green bedspread, pinned on to look like a loose robe, with flowing +sleeves, and girded about the waist with cords and tassels taken from +Aunt Phebe's parlor curtains. He wore an immense lace collar, and a +turban made of a white muslin handkerchief (one that was Grandmother's +mother's) and besprinkled with artificial flowers. His face was tattooed +with a lead-pencil, and dark circles drawn around his eyes. He held in +his hand a slender rod, or wand. + +The dwarf was a young cousin of William Henry's (not Tommy), and he did +his part well, whistling, bowing, dancing, sneezing, rising, sitting, +with a perfectly sober face. + +The showman then read the "Narrative," adding thereto such ridiculous +incidents, and such comical remarks, that the audience were convulsed +with laughter, and the face of the dwarf twitched alarmingly. These +twitchings, he (the showman) said, were not unusual, and were the +effects of the sad occurrence then being narrated. The closing portions +of the story were declaimed in a powerful voice. He "acted out" the +"pole" and the "span," and at the third line, "I must be measured by my +_soul_," laid his hand upon his heart in the most impressive manner, and +remained in that position till the curtain fell. + +After this "John Brown" was sung, and William Henry was permitted to +roar out that "Glory Hallelujah" as loudly as he pleased. + + * * * * * + +The following letter must have been written some time after William +Henry met with the _affliction_ which was so touchingly alluded to by +Uncle Jacob, as above related, and which that wretched youth felt could +only be endured in the bosom of his family! In the interval it appears +that he had been removed from the Crooked Pond School, and that Dorry +had left also, to finish preparing himself for college in some higher +seminary of learning. + + * * * * * + +_William Henry's Letter after leaving School._ + +DEAR DORRY,-- + +I didn't know I was going to come away from school so soon after you +did, but there was a new High School begun in our town about a mile and +a half off, and my father thought I could learn there, and learn to farm +it some too. But I don't think much of farming it. Course 't is fun to +see things grow, after you've planted the seeds, and then watched 'em +all the way up. My grandmother says my father likes his corn so well, +that he pities it in a dry time, and when a gale blows it down he pities +it as much as if he'd been blown down himself. Weeds are enough to make +a feller mad, coming up fast as you kill 'em and sucking all the +goodness out of the ground that don't belong to them. Suppose they think +'t is as much theirs as anybody's. + +I suppose you are studying away for college. I don't know whether I wish +I could go or not. I guess my head wouldn't hold all 't would have to be +put into it before I went, and in all that four years too! Now I want to +know if a feller can remember all that? I mean remember the beginning +after all the other has been piled top of it? I don't know what I shall +be yet. For there is something bad about everything, Grandmother says, +and I believe it. Now I don't want to be a farmer, because 't is hard +work and poor pay,--in these parts. I guess I should like to go to +Kansas. But there are the Indians after your scalp, and fever and ague, +and grasshoppers, and potato-bugs, and bean-bugs, and army-worms to eat +up everything, and droughts to dry up everything, and floods to wash it +away, and hurricanes to blow it down, and Uncle Jacob says if a man +comes through all these alive, with a few grains of corn, the man that +wants to buy 'em is a hundred miles off! But my father says, what is a +man good for that don't dare to go to sail without 't is on a mill-pond! +For smooth water can't make a sailor. And if a man is scared of lions, +how will he get through the woods. So I don't know yet what I shall be. +What should you, if you did n' go to college? Go into a store? I tell +you, Dorry, that if I was a dry-goods clerk, fenced in behind a counter, +I do believe I should ache to jump over and _put_ for somewhere and go +to doing something. But my father says you can't always tell a man by +what his business is. For you've got to allow for head work. And because +he sells shoe-strings, 't is no sign he hasn't got anything in his head +but shoe-strings; and because a man drives nails, 't is no sign he +hasn't got anything but nails in his head. "Now suppose," says he, "that +a man sells dry goods all day, can't he have some thoughts stowed away +in his brains that he got out of books, or got up himself? And when he's +walking along home and back, and evenings, can't he out with 'em and be +thinking 'em over?" I s'pose 't isn't time for me to have thoughts yet, +s'pose they'll be dropping along in a year or two, "or three at the +most," as Lord Lovell said. One thing I mean to have, and that is a good +house with all the fixings, and money to spend, and money to give away +if I want to. So whatever I get started on, I mean to pitch in and shove +up my sleeves, and go at it. Father says I must be thinking the matter +over, and not make my mind up right off. They say going to sea is a +dog's life. I should like to go long enough to see what Spain looks +like, and China, and other places. Maybe I shall learn a trade. Now, for +instance, a carpenter's. That don't seem much of a trade. Mostly +pounding. But they say if you keep on, and are smart at it, why, you get +to taking houses, and then you are not a carpenter any longer, but a +"builder," and money comes in. + +I'm going to let her rest a spell. Though I'm so old I can't help +looking ahead some sometimes, to see where I'm coming out. + +Didn't you feel homesick any when you were coming away from school? I +did,--"quite some," as W. B. used to say. I went round to all the +places, and paddled in the pond, and lay down on the grass to take one +more drink out of the brook, and climbed up in the Elm, and ran up and +down our stairs much as half a dozen times, without stopping, for I +thought I never should again. + +I whittled a great sliver off the base-ball field fence to fetch away; +didn't we use to have good times there? Bubby Short gave me his +pocket-book, and I gave him mine. They had about equal, inside. I went +to bid Gapper good-by, day before I came off, and gave Rosy my little +penknife. + +Then I went to bid the two Betseys good-by, and they wiped their eyes, +and seemed about as if they'd been my grandmothers, and said I _must_ +come to eat supper with them that afternoon. So I went. Me all alone! +Had a funny kind of a time. We sat at that round, three-legged stand, +and I'll tell you what we had. Bannock and butter, sausages, flapjacks, +and scalloped cakes. All set on in saucers, for there wasn't much room. +They had about supper enough for forty. For they said they knew their +appetites were nothing to judge a hungry boy by, and I must eat a good +deal and not go by them, and kept handing things to me, and every once +in a while they'd say, "Now don't be scared of it, there's more in the +buttery?" George! Dorry, I wish you could have seen that punkin-pie they +had! 'T was kept in a chair, a little ways off. I don't see what 't was +baked in. The Other Betsey said that was just such a kind of a pie as +her mother used to make. I out with my ruler, and asked if I might +measure it. 'T was about two feet across, and about four inches thick. +She said she thought 't was a good time to make one, when they were +going to have company. When I took my piece I had to hold my plate in my +hand, for there wasn't room on the stand. They wished you'd been there, +and so did I, and so would you, if you'd seen that pie. They didn't take +down their best dishes, that we had that other time, but called me one +of the family and used the poor ones. I had to look out about lifting up +the spoon-holder, because the bottom had been off, once, and mind which +sugar-bowl handle I took hold of, for one side it was glued on. But +everything held. I can't bear tea, but they said 't was very warming and +resting, and I'd better. I guess they put in about six spoonfuls of +sugar! They wanted to know all about you, and said you were a smart +fellow. + +They wanted me to take some little thing out of the store, to remember +them by. So I looked and looked to find something that didn't cost very +much, and at last I pitched upon a pocket-comb. The Other Betsey put on +her glasses and scratched a B. on it, and said it could stand for the +two of 'em. But I told her she better make two B.'s, for that would seem +more like the Two Betseys, and she did. Lame Betsey said one B. ought to +go lame, and the Other Betsey said she guessed they both would, for she +had poor eyesight, and her hand shook, and nothing but a darning-needle +to scratch with. If I do break the comb I shall keep the handle, for I +think the Two Betseys are tip-top. I wish they could come and see my +grandmother. Wouldn't the three of 'em have a good time! + +Send a feller a letter once in a while, can't ye? Say, now, you Dorry, +don't get too knowing to write to a feller? + +Your friend, + +WILLIAM HENRY. + + * * * * * + +At this point the correspondence properly closes. As a faithful editor, +I have endeavored to let it tell its own story, but must frankly +acknowledge that at times, the pleasant memories recalled by these +Letters have tempted me, too far, perhaps, beyond editorial bounds. This +fault I freely confess, hoping to be as freely forgiven. Were it known +how much I have left unsaid, while longing to say it, I should receive +not only forgiveness but praise. + +In closing, I cannot do better than to add to the collection an extract +from a letter written to Mr. Carver by the Principal of the Crooked Pond +School. + +It seems that William Henry's new teacher proposed his taking up Latin, +and that Mr. Carver being somewhat undecided about the matter, wrote to +the Principal of the Crooked School, asking his opinion. The Principal's +reply, in as far as it discusses the Latin question, would scarcely be +in order here. But the closing portion will, I know, be read with +pleasure by all who have taken an interest in William Henry. He speaks +of him thus:-- + + * * * * * + +.... Allow me, sir, in concluding, to congratulate you on the many good +qualities of your son. He is one of the boys that I feel sure of. We +regret exceedingly his leaving us, and I assure you that he carries with +him the best wishes of all here,--teachers, pupils, and townspeople. I +shall watch his course with deep interest. A boy of his manly bearing, +kind disposition, and high moral principle will surely win his way to +all hearts, as he has done to ours. + +With regard to his studies, though not, perhaps, a remarkably brilliant +scholar, he has, on the whole, done well. For the first few months, it +is true, we rather despaired of awakening an interest. He was too fond +of play, too unwilling to come under our pretty strict discipline. +Observing how heartily he entered into all games, and that he excelled +in them, it occurred to us, that if the same ambition and pluck shown on +the playground could be aroused in the schoolroom, our object would be +gained. This, by various means, we have tried to accomplish, and I am +happy to add, with good success. Your son, sir, is a boy to be proud of. + +Very truly yours, + +---- ---- + + * * * * * + +It so happened that I called at the Farm the very day on which this +reply was received, and just as Grandmother had finished reading it. + +As I entered the room she looked up, and without speaking handed me the +letter. Tears stood in her eyes, and I saw that something had touched +her deeply. + +"Any bad news?" I asked. + +"No," she answered, in a tremulous voice. "But to think of that +schoolmaster's finding out what was in that child!" + + + +Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILLIAM HENRY LETTERS*** + + +******* This file should be named 34335.txt or 34335.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/3/3/34335 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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