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diff --git a/old/54604-0.txt b/old/54604-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1a82541..0000000 --- a/old/54604-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3843 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Being a Boy, by Charles Dudley Warner - -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'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Being a Boy - -Author: Charles Dudley Warner - -Illustrator: Clifton Johnson - -Release Date: April 27, 2017 [EBook #54604] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEING A BOY *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Brian Wilsden and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -[Illustration: FISHING ON THE SWIMMING ROCK (page 169)] - - - - - Being a Boy - - by - - Charles Dudley - Warner - - [Illustration] - - _With Illustrations - from Photographs - by Clifton Johnson_ - - Boston and New York - Houghton, Mifflin and Company - - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - Mdcccxcvii - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1877, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD AND CO. - 1897, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND CO. - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - PREFACE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION vii - - I. BEING A BOY 1 - - II. THE BOY AS A FARMER 8 - - III. THE DELIGHTS OF FARMING 15 - - IV. NO FARMING WITHOUT A BOY 22 - - V. THE BOY'S SUNDAY 30 - - VI. THE GRINDSTONE OF LIFE 38 - - VII. FICTION AND SENTIMENT 47 - - VIII. THE COMING OF THANKSGIVING 56 - - IX. THE SEASON OF PUMPKIN-PIE 65 - - X. FIRST EXPERIENCE OF THE WORLD 73 - - XI. HOME INVENTIONS 82 - - XII. THE LONELY FARM-HOUSE 92 - - XIII. JOHN'S FIRST PARTY 101 - - XIV. THE SUGAR CAMP 113 - - XV. THE HEART OF NEW ENGLAND 123 - - XVI. JOHN'S REVIVAL 134 - - XVII. WAR 150 - - XVIII. COUNTRY SCENES 164 - - XIX. A CONTRAST TO THE NEW ENGLAND BOY 179 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - FISHING ON THE SWIMMING ROCK (see page 169) - _Frontispiece._ - - BEING A BOY 2 - - THE FARM OXEN 4 - - AT THE PASTURE BARS 8 - - IN THE CATTLE PASTURE 10 - - AFTER A CROW'S NEST 16 - - A STRING OF SPECKLED TROUT 20 - - WATCHING FOR SUNSET 28 - - RIDING BAREBACK 32 - - TURNING THE GRINDSTONE 36 - - SNARING SUCKERS 45 - - PICKING UP POTATOES 48 - - LEAP-FROG AT RECESS 50 - - POUNDING OFF SHUCKS 58 - - RUNNING ON THE STONE WALL 75 - - COASTING 83 - - IN SCHOOL 89 - - A REMOTE FARM-HOUSE 93 - - GOING HOME WITH CYNTHIA 111 - - A YOUNG SUGAR MAKER 119 - - WATCHING THE KETTLES 121 - - THE VILLAGE FROM THE HILL 127 - - TREEING A WOODCHUCK 131 - - LOOKING FOR FROGS 136 - - TROUT FISHING 140 - - FORCED TO GO TO BED 148 - - SLIPPERY WORK 165 - - RIGGING UP THE FISHING-TACKLE 169 - - WATCHING THE FISHES 170 - - ENTERING THE OLD BRIDGE 178 - - THE OLD WATERING TROUGH 180 - - THE NEW ENGLAND BOY 184 - - - - -PREFACE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION - - -This volume was first published over twenty years ago. If any of the -boys described in it were real, they have long since grown up, got -married, gone West, become selectmen or sheriffs, gone to Congress, -invented an electric churn, become editors or preachers or commercial -travelers, written a book, served a term as consul to a country the -language of which they did not know, or plodded along on a farm, -cultivating rheumatism and acquiring invaluable knowledge of the most -fickle weather known in a region which has all the fascination and all -the power of being disagreeable belonging to the most accomplished -coquette in the world. - -The rural life described is that of New England between 1830 and 1850, -in a period of darkness, before the use of lucifer matches; but when, -although religion had a touch of gloom and all pleasure was heightened -by a timorous apprehension that it was sin, the sun shone, the woods -were full of pungent scents, nature was strong in its invitations to -cheerfulness, and girls were as sweet and winsome as they are in the -old ballads. - -The object of the papers composing the volume—hough "object" is a -strong word to use about their waywardness—twas to recall scenes in -the boy-life of New England, or the impressions that a boy had of that -life. There was no attempt at the biography of any particular boy; the -experiences given were common to the boyhood of the time and place. -While the book, therefore, was not consciously biographical, it was of -necessity written out of a personal knowledge. And I may be permitted -to say that, as soon as I became conscious that I was dealing with a -young life of the past, I tried to be faithful to it, strictly so, and -to import into it nothing of later experience, either in feeling or -performance. I invented nothing,—not an adventure, not a scene, not -an emotion. I know from observation how difficult it is for an adult -to write about childhood. Invention is apt to supply details that -memory does not carry. The knowledge of the man insensibly inflates the -boyhood limitations. The temptation is to make a psychological analysis -of the boy's life and aspirations, and to interpret them according to -the man's view of life. It seems comparatively easy to write stories -about boys, and even biographies; but it is not easy to resist the -temptation of inventing scenes to make them interesting, indulging in -exaggerations both of adventure and of feeling which are not true to -experience, inventing details impossible to be recalled by the best -memory, and states of mind which are psychologically untrue to the -boy's consciousness. - -How far I succeeded in keeping the man out of the boy's life, my -readers can judge better than the writer. The volume originally made -no sensation—how could it, pitched in such a key?—but it has gone -on peacefully, and, I am glad to acknowledge, has made many valuable -friends. It started a brook, and a brook it has continued. In sending -out this new edition with Mr. Clifton Johnson's pictures, lovingly -taken from the real life and heart of New England, I may express the -hope that the boy of the remote generation will lose no friends. - - C. D. W. - - HARTFORD, May 8, 1897. - - - - -BEING A BOY - - - - -I - -BEING A BOY - - -One of the best things in the world to be is a boy; it requires no -experience, though it needs some practice to be a good one. The -disadvantage of the position is that it does not last long enough; -it is soon over; just as you get used to being a boy, you have to be -something else, with a good deal more work to do and not half so much -fun. And yet every boy is anxious to be a man, and is very uneasy with -the restrictions that are put upon him as a boy. Good fun as it is to -yoke up the calves and play work, there is not a boy on a farm but -would rather drive a yoke of oxen at real work. What a glorious feeling -it is, indeed, when a boy is for the first time given the long whip and -permitted to drive the oxen, walking by their side, swinging the long -lash, and shouting "Gee, Buck!" "Haw, Golden!" "Whoa, Bright!" and all -the rest of that remarkable language, until he is red in the face, and -all the neighbors for half a mile are aware that something unusual is -going on. If I were a boy, I am not sure but I would rather drive the -oxen than have a birthday. - -[Illustration: BEING A BOY] - -The proudest day of my life was one day when I rode on the neap of -the cart, and drove the oxen, all alone, with a load of apples to the -cider-mill. I was so little, that it was a wonder that I didn't fall -off, and get under the broad wheels. Nothing could make a boy, who -cared anything for his appearance, feel flatter than to be run over -by the broad tire of a cart-wheel. But I never heard of one who was, -and I don't believe one ever will be. As I said, it was a great day -for me, but I don't remember that the oxen cared much about it. They -sagged along in their great clumsy way, switching their tails in my -face occasionally, and now and then giving a lurch to this or that -side of the road, attracted by a choice tuft of grass. And then I -"came the Julius Cæsar" over them, if you will allow me to use such a -slang expression, a liberty I never should permit you. I don't know -that Julius Cæsar ever drove cattle, though he must often have seen the -peasants from the Campagna "haw" and "gee" them round the Forum (of -course in Latin, a language that those cattle understood as well as -ours do English); but what I mean is, that I stood up and "hollered" -with all my might, as everybody does with oxen, as if they were born -deaf, and whacked them with the long lash over the head, just as the -big folks did when they drove. I think now that it was a cowardly thing -to crack the patient old fellows over the face and eyes, and make them -wink in their meek manner. If I am ever a boy again on a farm, I shall -speak gently to the oxen, and not go screaming round the farm like a -crazy man; and I shall not hit them a cruel cut with the lash every few -minutes, because it looks big to do so and I cannot think of anything -else to do. I never liked lickings myself, and I don't know why an -ox should like them, especially as he cannot reason about the moral -improvement he is to get out of them. - -[Illustration: THE FARM OXEN] - -Speaking of Latin reminds me that I once taught my cows Latin. I don't -mean that I taught them to read it, for it is very difficult to teach a -cow to read Latin or any of the dead languages,—a cow cares more for -her cud than she does for all the classics put together. But if you -begin early you can teach a cow, or a calf (if you can teach a calf -anything, which I doubt), Latin as well as English. There were ten -cows, which I had to escort to and from pasture night and morning. To -these cows I gave the names of the Roman numerals, beginning with Unus -and Duo, and going up to Decem. Decem was of course the biggest cow of -the party, or at least she was the ruler of the others, and had the -place of honor in the stable and everywhere else. I admire cows, and -especially the exactness with which they define their social position. -In this case, Decem could "lick" Novem, and Novem could "lick" Octo, -and so on down to Unus, who couldn't lick anybody, except her own -calf. I suppose I ought to have called the weakest cow Una instead of -Unus, considering her sex; but I didn't care much to teach the cows -the declensions of adjectives, in which I was not very well up myself; -and besides it would be of little use to a cow. People who devote -themselves too severely to study of the classics are apt to become -dried up; and you should never do anything to dry up a cow. Well, these -ten cows knew their names after a while, at least they appeared to, and -would take their places as I called them. At least, if Octo attempted -to get before Novem in going through the bars (I have heard people -speak of a "pair of bars" when there were six or eight of them), or -into the stable, the matter of precedence was settled then and there, -and once settled there was no dispute about it afterwards. Novem either -put her horns into Octo's ribs, and Octo shambled to one side, or else -the two locked horns and tried the game of push and gore until one -gave up. Nothing is stricter than the etiquette of a party of cows. -There is nothing in royal courts equal to it; rank is exactly settled, -and the same individuals always have the precedence. You know that at -Windsor Castle, if the Royal Three-Ply Silver Stick should happen to -get in front of the Most Royal Double-and-Twisted Golden Rod, when the -court is going in to dinner, something so dreadful would happen that we -don't dare to think of it. It is certain that the soup would get cold -while the Golden Rod was pitching the Silver Stick out of the castle -window into the moat, and perhaps the island of Great Britain itself -would split in two. But the people are very careful that it never -shall happen, so we shall probably never know what the effect would -be. Among cows, as I say, the question is settled in short order, and -in a different manner from what it sometimes is in other society. It -is said that in other society there is sometimes a great scramble for -the first place, for the leadership as it is called, and that women, -and men too, fight for what is called position; and in order to be -first they will injure their neighbors by telling stories about them -and by backbiting, which is the meanest kind of biting there is, not -excepting the bite of fleas. But in cow society there is nothing of -this detraction in order to get the first place at the crib, or the -farther stall in the stable. If the question arises, the cows turn in, -horns and all, and settle it with one square fight, and that ends it. I -have often admired this trait in cows. - -Besides Latin, I used to try to teach the cows a little poetry, and -it is a very good plan. It does not benefit the cows much, but it is -excellent exercise for a boy farmer. I used to commit to memory as many -short poems as I could find (the cows liked to listen to Thanatopsis -about as well as anything), and repeat them when I went to the pasture, -and as I drove the cows home through the sweet ferns and down the rocky -slopes. It improves a boy's elocution a great deal more than driving -oxen. - -It is a fact, also, that if a boy repeats Thanatopsis while he is -milking, that operation acquires a certain dignity. - - - - -II - -THE BOY AS A FARMER - -[Illustration: AT THE PASTURE BARS] - - -Boys in general would be very good farmers if the current notions -about farming were not so very different from those they entertain. -What passes for laziness is very often an unwillingness to farm in a -particular way. For instance, some morning in early summer John is told -to catch the sorrel mare, harness her into the spring wagon, and put -in the buffalo and the best whip, for father is obliged to drive over -to the "Corners, to see a man" about some cattle, or talk with the -road commissioner, or go to the store for the "women folks," and to -attend to other important business; and very likely he will not be back -till sundown. It must be very pressing business, for the old gentleman -drives off in this way somewhere almost every pleasant day, and appears -to have a great deal on his mind. - -Meantime, he tells John that he can play ball after he has done up the -chores. As if the chores could ever be "done up" on a farm. He is first -to clean out the horse-stable; then to take a bill-hook and cut down -the thistles and weeds from the fence-corners in the home mowing-lot -and along the road towards the village; to dig up the docks round the -garden patch; to weed out the beet-bed; to hoe the early potatoes; to -rake the sticks and leaves out of the front yard; in short, there is -work enough laid out for John to keep him busy, it seems to him, till -he comes of age; and at half an hour to sundown he is to go for the -cows, and, mind he don't run 'em! - -"Yes, sir," says John, "is that all?" - -"Well, if you get through in good season, you might pick over those -potatoes in the cellar: they are sprouting; they ain't fit to eat." - -John is obliged to his father, for if there is any sort of chore more -cheerful to a boy than another, on a pleasant day, it is rubbing the -sprouts off potatoes in a dark cellar. And the old gentleman mounts -his wagon and drives away down the enticing road, with the dog -bounding along beside the wagon, and refusing to come back at John's -call. John half wishes he were the dog. The dog knows the part of -farming that suits him. He likes to run along the road and see all -the dogs and other people, and he likes best of all to lie on the -store steps at the Corners—while his master's horse is dozing at -the post and his master is talking politics in the store—with the -other dogs of his acquaintance, snapping at mutually annoying flies -and indulging in that delightful dog gossip which is expressed by a -wag of the tail and a sniff of the nose. Nobody knows how many dogs' -characters are destroyed in this gossip; or how a dog may be able to -insinuate suspicion by a wag of the tail as a man can by a shrug of the -shoulders, or sniff a slander as a man can suggest one by raising his -eyebrows. - -[Illustration: IN THE CATTLE PASTURE] - -John looks after the old gentleman driving off in state, with the -odorous buffalo-robe and the new whip, and he thinks that is the sort -of farming he would like to do. And he cries after his departing -parent,— - -"Say, father, can't I go over to the farther pasture and salt the -cattle?" John knows that he could spend half a day very pleasantly in -going over to that pasture, looking for bird's-nests and shying at red -squirrels on the way, and who knows but he might "see" a sucker in the -meadow brook, and perhaps get a "jab" at him with a sharp stick. He -knows a hole where there is a whopper; and one of his plans in life -is to go some day and snare him, and bring him home in triumph. It -therefore is strongly impressed upon his mind that the cattle want -salting. But his father, without turning his head, replies,— - -"No, they don't need salting any more'n you do!" And the old equipage -goes rattling down the road, and John whistles his disappointment. When -I was a boy on a farm, and I suppose it is so now, cattle were never -salted half enough. - -John goes to his chores, and gets through the stable as soon as he can, -for that must be done; but when it comes to the outdoor work, that -rather drags. There are so many things to distract the attention,—a -chipmunk in the fence, a bird on a near tree, and a hen-hawk circling -high in the air over the barn-yard. John loses a little time in stoning -the chipmunk, which rather likes the sport, and in watching the bird -to find where its nest is; and he convinces himself that he ought to -watch the hawk, lest it pounce upon the chickens, and, therefore, -with an easy conscience, he spends fifteen minutes in hallooing to -that distant bird, and follows it away out of sight over the woods, -and then wishes it would come back again. And then a carriage with -two horses, and a trunk on behind, goes along the road; and there is -a girl in the carriage who looks out at John, who is suddenly aware -that his trousers are patched on each knee and in two places behind; -and he wonders if she is rich, and whose name is on the trunk, and how -much the horses cost, and whether that nice-looking man is the girl's -father, and if that boy on the seat with the driver is her brother, and -if he has to do chores; and as the gay sight disappears John falls to -thinking about the great world beyond the farm, of cities, and people -who are always dressed up, and a great many other things of which he -has a very dim notion. And then a boy, whom John knows, rides by in -a wagon with his father, and the boy makes a face at John, and John -returns the greeting with a twist of his own visage and some symbolic -gestures. All these things take time. The work of cutting down the -big weeds gets on slowly, although it is not very disagreeable, or -would not be if it were play. John imagines that yonder big thistle is -some whiskered villain, of whom he has read in a fairy book, and he -advances on him with "Die, ruffian!" and slashes off his head with the -bill-hook; or he charges upon the rows of mullein-stalks as if they -were rebels in regimental ranks, and hews them down without mercy. -What fun it might be if there were only another boy there to help. But -even war, single-handed, gets to be tiresome. It is dinner-time before -John finishes the weeds, and it is cow-time before John has made much -impression on the garden. - -This garden John has no fondness for. He would rather hoe corn all day -than work in it. Father seems to think that it is easy work that John -can do, because it is near the house! John's continual plan in this -life is to go fishing. When there comes a rainy day, he attempts to -carry it out. But ten chances to one his father has different views. -As it rains so that work cannot be done outdoors, it is a good time to -work in the garden. He can run into the house during the heavy showers. -John accordingly detests the garden; and the only time he works briskly -in it is when he has a stent set, to do so much weeding before the -Fourth of July. If he is spry he can make an extra holiday the Fourth -and the day after. Two days of gunpowder and ballplaying! When I was -a boy, I supposed there was some connection between such and such an -amount of work done on the farm and our national freedom. I doubted -if there could be any Fourth of July if my stent was not done. I, at -least, worked for my Independence. - - - - -III - -THE DELIGHTS OF FARMING - - -There are so many bright spots in the life of a farm-boy, that I -sometimes think I should like to live the life over again; I should -almost be willing to be a girl if it were not for the chores. There -is a great comfort to a boy in the amount of work he can get rid of -doing. It is sometimes astonishing how slow he can go on an errand, he -who leads the school in a race. The world is new and interesting to -him, and there is so much to take his attention off, when he is sent -to do anything. Perhaps he couldn't explain, himself, why, when he is -sent to the neighbor's after yeast, he stops to stone the frogs; he -is not exactly cruel, but he wants to see if he can hit 'em. No other -living thing can go so slow as a boy sent on an errand. His legs seem -to be lead, unless he happens to espy a woodchuck in an adjoining -lot, when he gives chase to it like a deer; and it is a curious fact -about boys, that two will be a great deal slower in doing anything than -one, and that the more you have to help on a piece of work the less -is accomplished. Boys have a great power of helping each other to do -nothing; and they are so innocent about it, and unconscious. "I went as -quick as ever I could," says the boy: his father asks him why he didn't -stay all night, when he has been absent three hours on a ten-minute -errand. The sarcasm has no effect on the boy. - -[Illustration: AFTER A CROW'S NEST] - -Going after the cows was a serious thing in my day. I had to climb a -hill, which was covered with wild strawberries in the season. Could any -boy pass by those ripe berries? And then in the fragrant hill pasture -there were beds of wintergreen with red berries, tufts of columbine, -roots of sassafras to be dug, and dozens of things good to eat or to -smell, that I could not resist. It sometimes even lay in my way to -climb a tree to look for a crow's nest, or to swing in the top, and -to try if I could see the steeple of the village church. It became -very important sometimes for me to see that steeple; and in the midst -of my investigations the tin horn would blow a great blast from the -farm-house, which would send a cold chill down my back in the hottest -days. I knew what it meant. It had a frightfully impatient quaver in -it, not at all like the sweet note that called us to dinner from the -hayfield. It said, "Why on earth doesn't that boy come home? It is -almost dark, and the cows ain't milked!" And that was the time the cows -had to start into a brisk pace and make up for lost time. I wonder if -any boy ever drove the cows home late, who did not say that the cows -were at the very farther end of the pasture, and that "Old Brindle" was -hidden in the woods, and he couldn't find her for ever so long! The -brindle cow is the boy's scapegoat, many a time. - -No other boy knows how to appreciate a holiday as the farm-boy does; -and his best ones are of a peculiar kind. Going fishing is of course -one sort. The excitement of rigging up the tackle, digging the bait, -and the anticipation of great luck,—these are pure pleasures, enjoyed -because they are rare. Boys who can go a-fishing any time care but -little for it. Tramping all day through bush and brier, fighting flies -and mosquitoes, and branches that tangle the line, and snags that break -the hook, and returning home late and hungry, with wet feet and a -string of speckled trout on a willow twig, and having the family crowd -out at the kitchen door to look at 'em, and say, "Pretty well done for -you, bub; did you catch that big one yourself?"—this is also pure -happiness, the like of which the boy will never have again, not if he -comes to be selectman and deacon and to "keep store." - -But the holidays I recall with delight were the two days in spring and -fall, when we went to the distant pasture-land, in a neighboring town, -may be, to drive thither the young cattle and colts, and to bring them -back again. It was a wild and rocky upland where our great pasture -was, many miles from home, the road to it running by a brawling river, -and up a dashing brookside among great hills. What a day's adventure -it was! It was like a journey to Europe. The night before, I could -scarcely sleep for thinking of it, and there was no trouble about -getting me up at sunrise that morning. The breakfast was eaten, the -luncheon was packed in a large basket, with bottles of root beer and -a jug of switchel, which packing I superintended with the greatest -interest; and then the cattle were to be collected for the march, -and the horses hitched up. Did I shirk any duty? Was I slow? I think -not. I was willing to run my legs off after the frisky steers, who -seemed to have an idea they were going on a lark, and frolicked about, -dashing into all gates, and through all bars except the right ones; -and how cheerfully I did yell at them; it was a glorious chance to -"holler," and I have never since heard any public speaker on the stump -or at camp-meeting who could make more noise. I have often thought -it fortunate that the amount of noise in a boy does not increase in -proportion to his size; if it did the world could not contain it. - -The whole day was full of excitement and of freedom. We were away from -the farm, which to a boy is one of the best parts of farming; we saw -other farms and other people at work; I had the pleasure of marching -along, and swinging my whip, past boys whom I knew, who were picking -up stones. Every turn of the road, every bend and rapid of the river, -the great boulders by the wayside, the watering-troughs, the giant pine -that had been struck by lightning, the mysterious covered bridge over -the river where it was most swift and rocky and foamy, the chance eagle -in the blue sky, the sense of going somewhere,—why, as I recall all -these things I feel that even the Prince Imperial, as he used to dash -on horseback through the Bois de Boulogne, with fifty mounted hussars -clattering at his heels, and crowds of people cheering, could not have -been as happy as was I, a boy in short jacket and shorter pantaloons, -trudging in the dust that day behind the steers and colts, cracking my -black-stock whip. - -[Illustration: A STRING OF SPECKLED TROUT] - -I wish the journey would never end; but at last, by noon, we reach -the pastures and turn in the herd; and, after making the tour of -the lots to make sure there are no breaks in the fences, we take our -luncheon from the wagon and eat it under the trees by the spring. -This is the supreme moment of the day. This is the way to live; this -is like the Swiss Family Robinson, and all the rest of my delightful -acquaintances in romance. Baked beans, rye-and-indian bread (moist, -remember), doughnuts and cheese, pie, and root beer. What richness! -You may live to dine at Delmonico's, or, if those Frenchmen do not eat -each other up, at Philippe's, in the Rue Montorgueil in Paris, where -the dear old Thackeray used to eat as good a dinner as anybody; but you -will get there neither doughnuts, nor pie, nor root beer, nor anything -so good as that luncheon at noon in the old pasture, high among the -Massachusetts hills! Nor will you ever, if you live to be the oldest -boy in the world, have any holiday equal to the one I have described. -But I always regretted that I did not take along a fish-line, just to -"throw in" the brook we passed. I know there were trout there. - - - - -IV - -NO FARMING WITHOUT A BOY - - -Say what you will about the general usefulness of boys, it is my -impression that a farm without a boy would very soon come to grief. -What the boy does is the life of the farm. He is the factotum, always -in demand, always expected to do the thousand indispensable things that -nobody else will do. Upon him fall all the odds and ends, the most -difficult things. After everybody else is through, he has to finish up. -His work is like a woman's,—perpetual waiting on others. Everybody -knows how much easier it is to eat a good dinner than it is to wash the -dishes afterwards. Consider what a boy on a farm is required to do; -things that must be done, or life would actually stop. - -It is understood, in the first place, that he is to do all the errands, -to go to the store, to the post-office, and to carry all sorts of -messages. If he had as many legs as a centipede, they would tire before -night. His two short limbs seem to him entirely inadequate to the task. -He would like to have as many legs as a wheel has spokes, and rotate -about in the same way. This he sometimes tries to do; and people who -have seen him "turning cart-wheels" along the side of the road have -supposed that he was amusing himself, and idling his time; he was only -trying to invent a new mode of locomotion, so that he could economize -his legs and do his errands with greater dispatch. He practices -standing on his head, in order to accustom himself to any position. -Leap-frog is one of his methods of getting over the ground quickly. He -would willingly go an errand any distance if he could leap-frog it with -a few other boys. He has a natural genius for combining pleasure with -business. This is the reason why, when he is sent to the spring for a -pitcher of water, and the family are waiting at the dinner-table, he is -absent so long; for he stops to poke the frog that sits on the stone, -or, if there is a penstock, to put his hand over the spout and squirt -the water a little while. He is the one who spreads the grass when the -men have cut it; he mows it away in the barn; he rides the horse to -cultivate the corn, up and down the hot, weary rows; he picks up the -potatoes when they are dug; he drives the cows night and morning; he -brings wood and water and splits kindling; he gets up the horse and -puts out the horse; whether he is in the house or out of it, there is -always something for him to do. Just before school in winter he shovels -paths; in summer he turns the grindstone. He knows where there are lots -of wintergreen and sweet flag root, but instead of going for them he is -to stay indoors and pare apples and stone raisins and pound something -in a mortar. And yet, with his mind full of schemes of what he would -like to do, and his hands full of occupations, he is an idle boy who -has nothing to busy himself with but school and chores! He would gladly -do all the work if somebody else would do the chores, he thinks, and -yet I doubt if any boy ever amounted to anything in the world, or was -of much use as a man, who did not enjoy the advantages of a liberal -education in the way of chores. - -A boy on a farm is nothing without his pets; at least a dog, and -probably rabbits, chickens, ducks, and guinea hens. A guinea hen -suits a boy. It is entirely useless, and makes a more disagreeable -noise than a Chinese gong. I once domesticated a young fox which a -neighbor had caught. It is a mistake to suppose the fox cannot be -tamed. Jacko was a very clever little animal, and behaved, in all -respects, with propriety. He kept Sunday as well as any day, and all -the ten commandments that he could understand. He was a very graceful -playfellow, and seemed to have an affection for me. He lived in a -woodpile, in the dooryard, and when I lay down at the entrance to his -house and called him, he would come out and sit on his tail and lick -my face just like a grown person. I taught him a great many tricks and -all the virtues. That year I had a large number of hens, and Jacko went -about among them with the most perfect indifference, never looking on -them to lust after them, as I could see, and never touching an egg or -a feather. So excellent was his reputation that I would have trusted -him in the hen-roost in the dark without counting the hens. In short, -he was domesticated, and I was fond of him and very proud of him, -exhibiting him to all our visitors as an example of what affectionate -treatment would do in subduing the brute instincts. I preferred him -to my dog, whom I had, with much patience, taught to go up a long -hill alone and surround the cows, and drive them home from the remote -pasture. He liked the fun of it at first, but by and by he seemed to -get the notion that it was a "chore," and when I whistled for him to -go for the cows, he would turn tail and run the other way, and the -more I whistled and threw stones at him the faster he would run. His -name was Turk, and I should have sold him if he had not been the kind -of dog that nobody will buy. I suppose he was not a cow-dog, but what -they call a sheep-dog. At least, when he got big enough, he used to -get into the pasture and chase the sheep to death. That was the way -he got into trouble, and lost his valuable life. A dog is of great use -on a farm, and that is the reason a boy likes him. He is good to bite -peddlers and small children, and run out and yelp at wagons that pass -by, and to howl all night when the moon shines. And yet, if I were a -boy again, the first thing I would have should be a dog; for dogs are -great companions, and as active and spry as a boy at doing nothing. -They are also good to bark at woodchuck holes. - -A good dog will bark at a woodchuck hole long after the animal has -retired to a remote part of his residence, and escaped by another hole. -This deceives the woodchuck. Some of the most delightful hours of my -life have been spent in hiding and watching the hole where the dog -was not. What an exquisite thrill ran through my frame when the timid -nose appeared, was withdrawn, poked out again, and finally followed -by the entire animal, who looked cautiously about, and then hopped -away to feed on the clover. At that moment I rushed in, occupied -the "home base," yelled to Turk and then danced with delight at the -combat between the spunky woodchuck and the dog. They were about the -same size, but science and civilization won the day. I did not reflect -then that it would have been more in the interest of civilization if -the woodchuck had killed the dog. I do not know why it is that boys -so like to hunt and kill animals; but the excuse that I gave in this -case for the murder was, that the woodchuck ate the clover and trod it -down; and, in fact, was a woodchuck. It was not till long after that -I learned with surprise that he is a rodent mammal, of the species -_Arctomys monax_, is called at the West a ground-hog, and is eaten by -people of color with great relish. - -[Illustration: WATCHING FOR SUNSET] - -But I have forgotten my beautiful fox. Jacko continued to deport -himself well until the young chickens came; he was actually cured of -the fox vice of chicken-stealing. He used to go with me about the -coops, pricking up his ears in an intelligent manner, and with a -demure eye and the most virtuous droop of the tail. Charming fox! -If he had held out a little while longer, I should have put him into -a Sunday-school book. But I began to miss chickens. They disappeared -mysteriously in the night. I would not suspect Jacko at first, for he -looked so honest, and in the daytime he seemed to be as much interested -in the chickens as I was. But one morning, when I went to call him, -I found feathers at the entrance of his hole,—chicken feathers. He -couldn't deny it. He was a thief. His fox nature had come out under -severe temptation. And he died an unnatural death. He had a thousand -virtues and one crime. But that crime struck at the foundation of -society. He deceived and stole; he was a liar and a thief, and no -pretty ways could hide the fact. His intelligent, bright face couldn't -save him. If he had been honest, he might have grown up to be a large, -ornamental fox. - - - - -V - -THE BOY'S SUNDAY - - -Sunday in the New England hill towns used to begin Saturday night -at sundown; and the sun is lost to sight behind the hills there -before it has set by the almanac. I remember that we used to go by -the almanac Saturday night and by the visible disappearance Sunday -night. On Saturday night we very slowly yielded to the influences of -the holy time, which were settling down upon us, and submitted to -the ablutions which were as inevitable as Sunday; but when the sun -(and it never moved so slow) slid behind the hills Sunday night, the -effect upon the watching boy was like a shock from a galvanic battery; -something flashed through all his limbs and set them in motion, and -no "play" ever seemed so sweet to him as that between sundown and -dark Sunday night. This, however, was on the supposition that he -had conscientiously kept Sunday, and had not gone in swimming and -got drowned. This keeping of Saturday night instead of Sunday night -we did not very well understand; but it seemed, on the whole, a good -thing that we should rest Saturday night when we were tired, and play -Sunday night when we were rested. I supposed, however, that it was -an arrangement made to suit the big boys who wanted to go "courting" -Sunday night. Certainly they were not to be blamed, for Sunday was the -day when pretty girls were most fascinating, and I have never since -seen any so lovely as those who used to sit in the gallery and in the -singers' seats in the bare old meeting-houses. - -Sunday to the country farmer-boy was hardly the relief that it was to -the other members of the family; for the same chores must be done that -day as on others, and he could not divert his mind with whistling, -hand-springs, or sending the dog into the river after sticks. He had to -submit, in the first place, to the restraint of shoes and stockings. -He read in the Old Testament that when Moses came to holy ground he -put off his shoes; but the boy was obliged to put his on, upon the -holy day, not only to go to meeting, but while he sat at home. Only -the emancipated country-boy, who is as agile on his bare feet as a -young kid, and rejoices in the pressure of the warm soft earth, knows -what a hardship it is to tie on stiff shoes. The monks who put peas in -their shoes as a penance do not suffer more than the country-boy in his -penitential Sunday shoes. I recall the celerity with which he used to -kick them off at sundown. - -Sunday morning was not an idle one for the farmer-boy. He must rise -tolerably early, for the cows were to be milked and driven to pasture; -family prayers were a little longer than on other days; there were the -Sunday-school verses to be re-learned, for they did not stay in mind -over night; perhaps the wagon was to be greased before the neighbors -began to drive by; and the horse was to be caught out of the pasture, -ridden home bareback, and harnessed. - -[Illustration: RIDING BAREBACK] - -This catching the horse, perhaps two of them, was very good fun -usually, and would have broken the Sunday if the horse had not been -wanted for taking the family to meeting. It was so peaceful and still -in the pasture on Sunday morning; but the horses were never so playful, -the colts never so frisky. Round and round the lot the boy went, -calling, in an entreating Sunday voice, "Jock, jock, jock, jock," and -shaking his salt-dish, while the horses, with heads erect, and shaking -tails and flashing heels, dashed from corner to corner, and gave the -boy a pretty good race before he could coax the nose of one of them -into his dish. The boy got angry, and came very near saying "dum it," -but he rather enjoyed the fun, after all. - -The boy remembers how his mother's anxiety was divided between the set -of his turn-over collar, the parting of his hair, and his memory of -the Sunday-school verses; and what a wild confusion there was through -the house in getting off for meeting, and how he was kept running -hither and thither, to get the hymn-book, or a palm-leaf fan, or the -best whip, or to pick from the Sunday part of the garden the bunch -of caraway seed. Already the deacon's mare, with a wagon load of the -deacon's folks, had gone shambling past, head and tail drooping, clumsy -hoofs kicking up clouds of dust, while the good deacon sat jerking the -reins in an automatic way, and the "women-folks" patiently saw the dust -settle upon their best summer finery. Wagon after wagon went along -the sandy road, and when our boy's family started, they became part -of a long procession, which sent up a mile of dust and a pungent if -not pious smell of buffalo-robes. There were fiery horses in the train -which had to be held in, for it was neither etiquette nor decent to -pass anybody on Sunday. It was a great delight to the farmer-boy to see -all this procession of horses, and to exchange sly winks with the other -boys, who leaned over the wagon-seats for that purpose. Occasionally -a boy rode behind, with his back to the family, and his pantomime was -always something wonderful to see, and was considered very daring and -wicked. - -The meeting-house which our boy remembers was a high, square building, -without a steeple. Within, it had a lofty pulpit, with doors underneath -and closets where sacred things were kept, and where the tithing-men -were supposed to imprison bad boys. The pews were square, with seats -facing each other, those on one side low for the children, and all -with hinges, so that they could be raised when the congregation stood -up for prayers and leaned over the backs of the pews, as horses meet -each other across a pasture fence. After prayers these seats used to -be slammed down with a long-continued clatter, which seemed to the -boys about the best part of the exercises. The galleries were very -high, and the singers' seats, where the pretty girls sat, were the most -conspicuous of all. To sit in the gallery, away from the family, was a -privilege not often granted to the boy. The tithing-man, who carried -a long rod and kept order in the house, and outdoors at noontime, sat -in the gallery, and visited any boy who whispered or found curious -passages in the Bible and showed them to another boy. It was an -awful moment when the bushy-headed tithing-man approached a boy in -sermon-time. The eyes of the whole congregation were on him, and he -could feel the guilt ooze out of his burning face. - -At noon was Sunday-school, and after that, before the afternoon -service, in summer, the boys had a little time to eat their luncheon -together at the watering-trough, where some of the elders were likely -to be gathered, talking very solemnly about cattle; or they went over -to a neighboring barn to see the calves; or they slipped off down -the roadside to a place where they could dig sassafras or the root -of the sweet flag,—roots very fragrant in the mind of many a boy -with religious associations to this day. There was often an odor of -sassafras in the afternoon service. It used to stand in my mind as a -substitute for the Old Testament incense of the Jews. Something in the -same way the big bass-viol in the choir took the place of "David's harp -of solemn sound." - -[Illustration: TURNING THE GRINDSTONE] - -The going home from meeting was more cheerful and lively than the -coming to it. There was all the bustle of getting the horses out of the -sheds and bringing them round to the meeting-house steps. At noon the -boys sometimes sat in the wagons and swung the whips without cracking -them: now it was permitted to give them a little snap in order to bring -the horses up in good style; and the boy was rather proud of the horse -if it pranced a little while the timid "women-folks" were trying to get -in. The boy had an eye for whatever life and stir there was in a New -England Sunday. He liked to drive home fast. The old house and the farm -looked pleasant to him. There was an extra dinner when they reached -home, and a cheerful consciousness of duty performed made it a pleasant -dinner. Long before sundown the Sunday-school book had been read, and -the boy sat waiting in the house with great impatience the signal that -the "day of rest" was over. A boy may not be very wicked, and yet not -see the need of "rest." Neither his idea of rest nor work is that of -older farmers. - - - - -VI - -THE GRINDSTONE OF LIFE - - -If there is one thing more than another that hardens the lot of the -farmer-boy it is the grindstone. Turning grindstones to grind scythes -is one of those heroic but unobtrusive occupations for which one gets -no credit. It is a hopeless kind of task, and, however faithfully the -crank is turned, it is one that brings little reputation. There is a -great deal of poetry about haying—I mean for those not engaged in it. -One likes to hear the whetting of the scythes on a fresh morning and -the response of the noisy bobolink, who always sits upon the fence -and superintends the cutting of the dew-laden grass. There is a sort -of music in the "swish" and a rhythm in the swing of the scythes in -concert. The boy has not much time to attend to it, for it is lively -business "spreading" after half a dozen men who have only to walk -along and lay the grass low, while the boy has the whole hayfield on -his hands. He has little time for the poetry of haying, as he struggles -along, filling the air with the wet mass which he shakes over his head, -and picking his way with short legs and bare feet amid the short and -freshly cut stubble. - -But if the scythes cut well and swing merrily it is due to the boy -who turned the grindstone. Oh, it was nothing to do, just turn the -grindstone a few minutes for this and that one before breakfast; any -"hired man" was authorized to order the boy to turn the grindstone. -How they did bear on, those great strapping fellows! Turn, turn, turn, -what a weary go it was. For my part, I used to like a grindstone that -"wabbled" a good deal on its axis, for when I turned it fast, it put -the grinder on a lively lookout for cutting his hands, and entirely -satisfied his desire that I should "turn faster." It was some sport to -make the water fly and wet the grinder, suddenly starting up quickly -and surprising him when I was turning very slowly. I used to wish -sometimes that I could turn fast enough to make the stone fly into a -dozen pieces. Steady turning is what the grinders like, and any boy who -turns steadily, so as to give an even motion to the stone, will be much -praised, and will be in demand. I advise any boy who desires to do this -sort of work to turn steadily. If he does it by jerks and in a fitful -manner, the "hired men" will be very apt to dispense with his services -and turn the grindstone for each other. - -This is one of the most disagreeable tasks of the boy farmer, and, -hard as it is, I do not know why it is supposed to belong especially -to childhood. But it is, and one of the certain marks that second -childhood has come to a man on a farm is that he is asked to turn -the grindstone as if he were a boy again. When the old man is good -for nothing else, when he can neither mow nor pitch, and scarcely -"rake after," he can turn grindstone, and it is in this way that he -renews his youth. "Ain't you ashamed to have your granther turn the -grindstone?" asks the hired man of the boy. So the boy takes hold and -turns himself, till his little back aches. When he gets older he -wishes he had replied, "Ain't you ashamed to make either an old man or -a little boy do such hard grinding work?" - -Doing the regular work of this world is not much, the boy thinks, but -the wearisome part is the waiting on the people who do the work. And -the boy is not far wrong. This is what women and boys have to do on a -farm,—wait upon everybody who "works." The trouble with the boy's life -is that he has no time that he can call his own. He is, like a barrel -of beer, always on draught. The men-folks, having worked in the regular -hours, lie down and rest, stretch themselves idly in the shade at noon, -or lounge about after supper. Then the boy, who has done nothing all -day but turn grindstone, and spread hay, and rake after, and run his -little legs off at everybody's beck and call, is sent on some errand or -some household chore, in order that time shall not hang heavy on his -hands. The boy comes nearer to perpetual motion than anything else in -nature, only it is not altogether a voluntary motion. The time that -the farm-boy gets for his own is usually at the end of a stent. We used -to be given a certain piece of corn to hoe, or a certain quantity of -corn to husk in so many days. If we finished the task before the time -set, we had the remainder to ourselves. In my day it used to take very -sharp work to gain anything, but we were always anxious to take the -chance. I think we enjoyed the holiday in anticipation quite as much -as we did when we had won it. Unless it was training-day, or Fourth -of July, or the circus was coming, it was a little difficult to find -anything big enough to fill our anticipations of the fun we would have -in the day or the two or three days we had earned. We did not want to -waste the time on any common thing. Even going fishing in one of the -wild mountain brooks was hardly up to the mark, for we could sometimes -do that on a rainy day. Going down to the village store was not very -exciting, and was on the whole a waste of our precious time. Unless -we could get out our military company, life was apt to be a little -blank, even on the holidays for which we had worked so hard. If you -went to see another boy, he was probably at work in the hayfield or -the potato-patch, and his father looked at you askance. You sometimes -took hold and helped him, so that he could go and play with you; but -it was usually time to go for the cows before the task was done. There -has been a change, but the amusements of a boy in the country were -few then. Snaring "suckers" out of the deep meadow brook used to be -about as good as any that I had. The North American sucker is not an -engaging animal in all respects; his body is comely enough, but his -mouth is puckered up like that of a purse. The mouth is not formed for -the gentle angle-worm nor the delusive fly of the fishermen. It is -necessary therefore to snare the fish if you want him. In the sunny -days he lies in the deep pools, by some big stone or near the bank, -poising himself quite still, or only stirring his fins a little now -and then, as an elephant moves his ears. He will lie so for hours,—or -rather float,—in perfect idleness and apparent bliss. - -The boy who also has a holiday, but cannot keep still, comes along -and peeps over the bank. "Golly, ain't he a big one!" Perhaps he is -eighteen inches long, and weighs two or three pounds. He lies there -among his friends, little fish and big ones, quite a school of them, -perhaps a district school, that only keeps in warm days in the summer. -The pupils seem to have little to learn, except to balance themselves -and to turn gracefully with a flirt of the tail. Not much is taught -but "deportment," and some of the old suckers are perfect Turveydrops -in that. The boy is armed with a pole and a stout line, and on the end -of it a brass wire bent into a hoop, which is a slipnoose, and slides -together when anything is caught in it. The boy approaches the bank -and looks over. There he lies, calm as a whale. The boy devours him -with his eyes. He is almost too much excited to drop the snare into -the water without making a noise. A puff of wind comes and ruffles the -surface, so that he cannot see the fish. It is calm again, and there -he still is, moving his fins in peaceful security. The boy lowers his -snare behind the fish and slips it along. He intends to get it around -him just back of the gills and then elevate him with a sudden jerk. It -is a delicate operation, for the snare will turn a little, and if it -hits the fish he is off. However, it goes well, the wire is almost in -place, when suddenly the fish, as if he had a warning in a dream, for -he appears to see nothing, moves his tail just a little, glides out -of the loop, and, with no seeming appearance of frustrating any one's -plans, lounges over to the other side of the pool; and there he reposes -just as if he was not spoiling the boy's holiday. - -[Illustration: SNARING SUCKERS] - -This slight change of base on the part of the fish requires the boy to -reorganize his whole campaign, get a new position on the bank, a new -line of approach, and patiently wait for the wind and sun before he can -lower his line. This time, cunning and patience are rewarded. The hoop -encircles the unsuspecting fish. The boy's eyes almost start from his -head as he gives a tremendous jerk, and feels by the dead-weight that -he has got him fast. Out he comes, up he goes in the air, and the boy -runs to look at him. In this transaction, however, no one can be more -surprised than the sucker. - - - - -VII - -FICTION AND SENTIMENT - - -The boy farmer does not appreciate school vacations as highly as -his city cousin. When school keeps he has only to "do chores and go -to school,"—but between terms there are a thousand things on the -farm that have been left for the boy to do. Picking up stones in the -pastures and piling them in heaps used to be one of them. Some lots -appeared to grow stones, or else the sun every year drew them to the -surface, as it coaxes the round cantelopes out of the soft garden soil; -it is certain that there were fields that always gave the boys this -sort of fall work. And very lively work it was on frosty mornings for -the barefooted boys, who were continually turning up the larger stones -in order to stand for a moment in the warm place that had been covered -from the frost. A boy can stand on one leg as well as a Holland stork; -and the boy who found a warm spot for the sole of his foot was likely -to stand in it until the words, "Come, stir your stumps," broke in -discordantly upon his meditations. For the boy is very much given to -meditations. If he had his way he would do nothing in a hurry; he likes -to stop and think about things, and enjoy his work as he goes along. He -picks up potatoes as if each one was a lump of gold just turned out of -the dirt, and requiring careful examination. - -[Illustration: PICKING UP POTATOES] - -Although the country boy feels a little joy when school breaks up (as -he does when anything breaks up, or any change takes place), since he -is released from the discipline and restraint of it, yet the school -is his opening into the world,—his romance. Its opportunities for -enjoyment are numberless. He does not exactly know what he is set at -books for; he takes spelling rather as an exercise for his lungs, -standing up and shouting out the words with entire recklessness of -consequences; he grapples doggedly with arithmetic and geography as -something that must be cleared out of his way before recess, but -not at all with the zest he would dig a woodchuck out of his hole. But -recess! Was ever any enjoyment so keen as that with which a boy rushes -out of the school-house door for the ten minutes of recess? He is -like to burst with animal spirits; he runs like a deer; he can nearly -fly; and he throws himself into play with entire self-forgetfulness, -and an energy that would overturn the world if his strength were -proportioned to it. For ten minutes the world is absolutely his; -the weights are taken off, restraints are loosed, and he is his own -master for that brief time,—as he never again will be if he lives -to be as old as the king of Thule, and nobody knows how old he was. -And there is the nooning, a solid hour, in which vast projects can be -carried out which have been slyly matured during the school-hours; -expeditions are undertaken, wars are begun between the Indians on one -side and the settlers on the other, the military company is drilled -(without uniforms or arms), or games are carried on which involve -miles of running, and an expenditure of wind sufficient to spell the -spelling-book through at the highest pitch. - -[Illustration: LEAP FROG AT RECESS] - -Friendships are formed, too, which are fervent if not enduring, and -enmities contracted which are frequently "taken out" on the spot, -after a rough fashion boys have of settling as they go along; cases -of long credit, either in words or trade, are not frequent with boys; -boot on jack-knives must be paid on the nail; and it is considered -much more honorable to out with a personal grievance at once, even if -the explanation is made with the fists, than to pretend fair, and then -take a sneaking revenge on some concealed opportunity. The country -boy at the district school is introduced into a wider world than he -knew at home, in many ways. Some big boy brings to school a copy of -the Arabian Nights, a dog-eared copy, with cover, title-page, and the -last leaves missing, which is passed around, and slyly read under the -desk, and perhaps comes to the little boy whose parents disapprove -of novel-reading, and have no work of fiction in the house except a -pious fraud called "Six Months in a Convent," and the latest comic -almanac. The boy's eyes dilate as he steals some of the treasures out -of the wondrous pages, and he longs to lose himself in the land of -enchantment open before him. He tells at home that he has seen the most -wonderful book that ever was, and a big boy has promised to lend it to -him. "Is it a true book, John?" asks the grandmother; "because if it -isn't true, it is the worst thing that a boy can read." (This happened -years ago.) John cannot answer as to the truth of the book, and so does -not bring it home; but he borrows it, nevertheless, and conceals it in -the barn, and lying in the hay-mow is lost in its enchantments many an -odd hour when he is supposed to be doing chores. There were no chores -in the Arabian Nights; the boy there had but to rub the ring and summon -a genius, who would feed the calves and pick up chips and bring in wood -in a minute. It was through this emblazoned portal that the boy walked -into the world of books, which he soon found was larger than his own, -and filled with people he longed to know. - -And the farmer-boy is not without his sentiment and his secrets, though -he has never been at a children's party in his life, and, in fact, -never has heard that children go into society when they are seven, and -give regular wine-parties when they reach the ripe age of nine. But one -of his regrets at having the summer school close is dimly connected -with a little girl, whom he does not care much for,—would a great deal -rather play with a boy than with her at recess,—but whom he will not -see again for some time,—a sweet little thing, who is very friendly -with John, and with whom he has been known to exchange bits of candy -wrapped up in paper, and for whom he cut in two his lead-pencil, and -gave her half. At the last day of school she goes part way with John, -and then he turns and goes a longer distance towards her home, so that -it is late when he reaches his own. Is he late? He didn't know he was -late, he came straight home when school was dismissed, only going a -little way home with Alice Linton to help her carry her books. In a box -in his chamber, which he has lately put a padlock on, among fish-hooks -and lines and bait-boxes, odd pieces of brass, twine, early sweet -apples, popcorn, beech-nuts, and other articles of value, are some -little billets-doux, fancifully folded, three-cornered or otherwise, -and written, I will warrant, in red or beautifully blue ink. These -little notes are parting gifts at the close of school, and John, no -doubt, gave his own in exchange for them, though the writing was an -immense labor, and the folding was a secret bought of another boy for a -big piece of sweet flag-root baked in sugar, a delicacy which John used -to carry in his pantaloons pocket until his pocket was in such a state -that putting his fingers into them was about as good as dipping them -into the sugar-bowl at home. Each precious note contained a lock or -curl of girl's hair,—a rare collection of all colors, after John had -been in school many terms, and had passed through a great many parting -scenes,—black, brown, red, tow-color, and some that looked like spun -gold and felt like silk. The sentiment contained in the notes was that -which was common in the school, and expressed a melancholy foreboding -of early death, and a touching desire to leave hair enough this side -the grave to constitute a sort of strand of remembrance. With little -variation, the poetry that made the hair precious was in the words, -and, as a Cockney would say, set to the hair, following:— - - - "This lock of hair, - Which I did wear, - Was taken from my head; - When this you see, - Remember me, - Long after I am dead." - -John liked to read these verses, which always made a new and fresh -impression with each lock of hair, and he was not critical; they were -for him vehicles of true sentiment, and indeed they were what he used -when he inclosed a clip of his own sandy hair to a friend. And it did -not occur to him until he was a great deal older and less innocent to -smile at them. John felt that he would sacredly keep every lock of hair -intrusted to him, though death should come on the wings of cholera and -take away every one of these sad, red-ink correspondents. When John's -big brother one day caught sight of these treasures, and brutally told -him that he "had hair enough to stuff a horse-collar," John was so -outraged and shocked, as he should have been, at this rude invasion -of his heart, this coarse suggestion, this profanation of his most -delicate feeling, that he was only kept from crying by the resolution -to "lick" his brother as soon as ever he got big enough. - - - - -VIII - -THE COMING OF THANKSGIVING - - -One of the best things in farming is gathering the chestnuts, -hickory-nuts, butternuts, and even beech-nuts, in the late fall, -after the frosts have cracked the husks and the high winds have -shaken them, and the colored leaves have strewn the ground. On a -bright October day, when the air is full of golden sunshine, there is -nothing quite so exhilarating as going nutting. Nor is the pleasure of -it altogether destroyed for the boy by the consideration that he is -making himself useful in obtaining supplies for the winter household. -The getting-in of potatoes and corn is a different thing; that is the -prose, but nutting is the poetry, of farm life. I am not sure but the -boy would find it very irksome, though, if he were obliged to work at -nut-gathering in order to procure food for the family. He is willing -to make himself useful in his own way. The Italian boy, who works day -after day at a huge pile of pine-cones, pounding and cracking them and -taking out the long seeds, which are sold and eaten as we eat nuts (and -which are almost as good as pumpkin-seeds, another favorite with the -Italians), probably does not see the fun of nutting. Indeed, if the -farmer-boy here were set at pounding off the walnut-shucks and opening -the prickly chestnut-burs as a task, he would think himself an ill-used -boy. What a hardship the prickles in his fingers would be! But now he -digs them out with his jack-knife, and he enjoys the process, on the -whole. The boy is willing to do any amount of work if it is called play. - -In nutting, the squirrel is not more nimble and industrious than the -boy. I like to see a crowd of boys swarm over a chestnut-grove; they -leave a desert behind them like the seventeen-years locusts. To climb -a tree and shake it, to club it, to strip it of its fruit and pass -to the next, is the sport of a brief time. I have seen a legion of -boys scamper over our grassplot under the chestnut-trees, each one -as active as if he were a new patent picking-machine, sweeping the -ground clean of nuts, and disappear over the hill before I could go to -the door and speak to them about it. Indeed, I have noticed that boys -don't care much for conversation with the owners of fruit-trees. They -could speedily make their fortunes if they would work as rapidly in -cotton-fields. I have never seen anything like it except a flock of -turkeys removing the grasshoppers from a piece of pasture. - -[Illustration: POUNDING OFF SHUCKS] - -Perhaps it is not generally known that we get the idea of some of -our best military manoeuvres from the turkey. The deploying of the -skirmish-line in advance of an army is one of them. The drum-major -of our holiday militia companies is copied exactly from the turkey -gobbler; he has the same splendid appearance, the same proud step, -and the same martial aspect. The gobbler does not lead his forces -in the field, but goes behind them, like the colonel of a regiment, -so that he can see every part of the line and direct its movements. -This resemblance is one of the most singular things in natural -history. I like to watch the gobbler manoeuvring his forces in a -grasshopper-field. He throws out his company of two dozen turkeys in a -crescent-shaped skirmish-line, the number disposed at equal distances, -while he walks majestically in the rear. They advance rapidly, picking -right and left, with military precision, killing the foe and disposing -of the dead bodies with the same peck. Nobody has yet discovered how -many grasshoppers a turkey will hold; but he is very much like a boy at -a Thanksgiving dinner,—he keeps on eating as long as the supplies last. - -The gobbler, in one of these raids, does not condescend to grab a -single grasshopper,—at least, not while anybody is watching him. But I -suppose he makes up for it when his dignity cannot be injured by having -spectators of his voracity; perhaps he falls upon the grasshoppers when -they are driven into a corner of the field. But he is only fattening -himself for destruction; like all greedy persons, he comes to a bad -end. And if the turkeys had any Sunday-school, they would be taught -this. - -The New England boy used to look forward to Thanksgiving as the great -event of the year. He was apt to get stents set him,—so much corn to -husk, for instance, before that day, so that he could have an extra -play-spell; and in order to gain a day or two, he would work at his -task with the rapidity of half a dozen boys. He had the day after -Thanksgiving always as a holiday, and this was the day he counted on. -Thanksgiving itself was rather an awful festival,—very much like -Sunday, except for the enormous dinner, which filled his imagination -for months before as completely as it did his stomach for that day and -a week after. There was an impression in the house that that dinner -was the most important event since the landing from the Mayflower. -Heliogabalus, who did not resemble a Pilgrim Father at all, but who -had prepared for himself in his day some very sumptuous banquets in -Rome, and ate a great deal of the best he could get (and liked peacocks -stuffed with asafoetida, for one thing), never had anything like -a Thanksgiving dinner; for do you suppose that he, or Sardanapalus -either, ever had twenty-four different kinds of pie at one dinner? -Therein many a New England boy is greater than the Roman emperor or the -Assyrian king, and these were among the most luxurious eaters of their -day and generation. But something more is necessary to make good men -than plenty to eat, as Heliogabalus no doubt found when his head was -cut off. Cutting off the head was a mode the people had of expressing -disapproval of their conspicuous men. Nowadays they elect them to a -higher office, or give them a mission to some foreign country, if they -do not do well where they are. - -For days and days before Thanksgiving the boy was kept at work -evenings, pounding and paring and cutting up and mixing (not being -allowed to taste much), until the world seemed to him to be made of -fragrant spices, green fruit, raisins, and pastry,—a world that he -was only yet allowed to enjoy through his nose. How filled the house -was with the most delicious smells! The mince-pies that were made! -If John had been shut in solid walls with them piled about him, he -couldn't have eaten his way out in four weeks. There were dainties -enough cooked in those two weeks to have made the entire year luscious -with good living, if they had been scattered along in it. But people -were probably all the better for scrimping themselves a little in order -to make this a great feast. And it was not by any means over in a day. -There were weeks deep of chicken-pie and other pastry. The cold buttery -was a cave of Aladdin, and it took a long time to excavate all its -riches. - -Thanksgiving Day itself was a heavy day, the hilarity of it being -so subdued by going to meeting, and the universal wearing of the -Sunday clothes, that the boy couldn't see it. But if he felt -little exhilaration, he ate a great deal. The next day was the -real holiday. Then were the merry-making parties, and perhaps the -skatings and sleighrides, for the freezing weather came before the -governor's proclamation in many parts of New England. The night after -Thanksgiving occurred, perhaps, the first real party that the boy had -ever attended, with live girls in it, dressed so bewitchingly. And -there he heard those philandering songs, and played those sweet games -of forfeits, which put him quite beside himself, and kept him awake -that night till the rooster crowed at the end of his first chicken-nap. -What a new world did that party open to him! I think it likely that -he saw there, and probably did not dare say ten words to, some tall, -graceful girl, much older than himself, who seemed to him like a new -order of being. He could see her face just as plainly in the darkness -of his chamber. He wondered if she noticed how awkward he was, and how -short his trousers-legs were. He blushed as he thought of his rather -ill-fitting shoes; and determined, then and there, that he wouldn't -be put off with a ribbon any longer, but would have a young man's -necktie. It was somewhat painful thinking the party over, but it was -delicious too. He did not think, probably, that he would die for that -tall, handsome girl; he did not put it exactly in that way. But he -rather resolved to live for her,—which might in the end amount to the -same thing. At least, he thought that nobody would live to speak twice -disrespectfully of her in his presence. - - - - -IX - -THE SEASON OF PUMPKIN-PIE - - -What John said was, that he didn't care much for pumpkin-pie; but that -was after he had eaten a whole one. It seemed to him then that mince -would be better. - -The feeling of a boy towards pumpkin-pie has never been properly -considered. There is an air of festivity about its approach in the -fall. The boy is willing to help pare and cut up the pumpkin, and -he watches with the greatest interest the stirring-up process and -the pouring into the scalloped crust. When the sweet savor of the -baking reaches his nostrils, he is filled with the most delightful -anticipations. Why should he not be? He knows that for months to come -the buttery will contain golden treasures, and that it will require -only a slight ingenuity to get at them. - -The fact is, that the boy is as good in the buttery as in any part -of farming. His elders say that the boy is always hungry; but that is -a very coarse way to put it. He has only recently come into a world -that is full of good things to eat, and there is on the whole a very -short time in which to eat them; at least he is told, among the first -information he receives, that life is short. Life being brief, and pie -and the like fleeting, he very soon decides upon an active campaign. It -may be an old story to people who have been eating for forty or fifty -years, but it is different with a beginner. He takes the thick and thin -as it comes, as to pie, for instance. Some people do make them very -thin. I knew a place where they were not thicker than the poor man's -plaster; they were spread so thin upon the crust that they were better -fitted to draw out hunger than to satisfy it. They used to be made up -by the great oven-full and kept in the dry cellar, where they hardened -and dried to a toughness you would hardly believe. This was a long time -ago, and they make the pumpkin-pie in the country better now, or the -race of boys would have been so discouraged that I think they would -have stopped coming into the world. - -The truth is, that boys have always been so plenty that they are -not half appreciated. We have shown that a farm could not get along -without them, and yet their rights are seldom recognized. One of the -most amusing things is their effort to acquire personal property. The -boy has the care of the calves; they always need feeding or shutting -up or letting out; when the boy wants to play, there are those calves -to be looked after,—until he gets to hate the name of calf. But in -consideration of his faithfulness, two of them are given to him. There -is no doubt that they are his; he has the entire charge of them. When -they get to be steers, he spends all his holidays in breaking them in -to a yoke. He gets them so broken in that they will run like a pair -of deer all over the farm, turning the yoke, and kicking their heels, -while he follows in full chase, shouting the ox language till he is -red in the face. When the steers grow up to be cattle, a drover one -day comes along and takes them away, and the boy is told that he can -have another pair of calves; and so, with undiminished faith, he goes -back and begins over again to make his fortune. He owns lambs and young -colts in the same way, and makes just as much out of them. - -There are ways in which the farmer-boy can earn money, as by gathering -the early chestnuts and taking them to the Corner store, or by finding -turkeys' eggs and selling them to his mother; and another way is to -go without butter at the table,—but the money thus made is for the -heathen. John read in Dr. Livingstone that some of the tribes in -Central Africa (which is represented by a blank spot in the atlas) use -the butter to grease their hair, putting on pounds of it at a time; -and he said he had rather eat his butter than have it put to that use, -especially as it melted away so fast in that hot climate. - -Of course it was explained to John that the missionaries do not -actually carry butter to Africa, and that they must usually go without -it themselves there, it being almost impossible to make it good from -the milk in the cocoanuts. And it was further explained to him that, -even if the heathen never received his butter or the money for it, it -was an excellent thing for a boy to cultivate the habit of self-denial -and of benevolence, and if the heathen never heard of him he would be -blessed for his generosity. This was all true. - -But John said that he was tired of supporting the heathen out of his -butter, and he wished the rest of the family would also stop eating -butter and save the money for missions; and he wanted to know where the -other members of the family got their money to send to the heathen; and -his mother said that he was about half right, and that self-denial was -just as good for grown people as it was for little boys and girls. - -The boy is not always slow to take what he considers his rights. -Speaking of those thin pumpkin-pies kept in the cellar cupboard, I used -to know a boy who afterwards grew to be a selectman, and brushed his -hair straight up like General Jackson, and went to the legislature, -where he always voted against every measure that was proposed, in the -most honest manner, and got the reputation of being the "watch-dog of -the treasury." Rats in the cellar were nothing to be compared to this -boy for destructiveness in pies. He used to go down, whenever he could -make an excuse, to get apples for the family, or draw a mug of cider -for his dear old grandfather (who was a famous story-teller about the -Revolutionary War, and would no doubt have been wounded in battle if -he had not been as prudent as he was patriotic), and come up stairs -with a tallow candle in one hand and the apples or cider in the other, -looking as innocent and as unconscious as if he had never done anything -in his life except deny himself butter for the sake of the heathen. -And yet this boy would have buttoned under his jacket an entire round -pumpkin-pie. And the pie was so well made and so dry that it was not -injured in the least, and it never hurt the boy's clothes a bit more -than if it had been inside of him instead of outside; and this boy -would retire to a secluded place and eat it with another boy, being -never suspected, because he was not in the cellar long enough to eat a -pie, and he never appeared to have one about him. But he did something -worse than this. When his mother saw that pie after pie departed, she -told the family that she suspected the hired man; and the boy never -said a word, which was the meanest kind of lying. That hired man was -probably regarded with suspicion by the family to the end of his days, -and if he had been accused of robbing they would have believed him -guilty. - -I shouldn't wonder if that selectman occasionally has remorse now about -that pie; dreams, perhaps, that it is buttoned up under his jacket and -sticking to him like a breastplate; that it lies upon his stomach like -a round and red-hot nightmare, eating into his vitals. Perhaps not. It -is difficult to say exactly what was the sin of stealing that kind of -pie, especially if the one who stole it ate it. It could have been used -for the game of pitching quoits, and a pair of them would have made -very fair wheels for the dog-cart. And yet it is probably as wrong to -steal a thin pie as a thick one; and it made no difference because -it was easy to steal this sort. Easy stealing is no better than easy -lying, where detection of the lie is difficult. The boy who steals his -mother's pies has no right to be surprised when some other boy steals -his watermelons. Stealing is like charity in one respect,—it is apt to -begin at home. - - - - -X - -FIRST EXPERIENCE OF THE WORLD - - -If I were forced to be a boy, and a boy in the country,—the best kind -of boy to be in the summer,—I would be about ten years of age. As soon -as I got any older, I would quit it. The trouble with a boy is that -just as he begins to enjoy himself he is too old, and has to be set to -doing something else. If a country boy were wise he would stay at just -that age when he could enjoy himself most, and have the least expected -of him in the way of work. - -Of course the perfectly good boy will always prefer to work, and to do -"chores" for his father and errands for his mother and sisters, rather -than enjoy himself in his own way. I never saw but one such boy. He -lived in the town of Goshen,—not the place where the butter is made, -but a much better Goshen than that. And I never saw _him_, but I heard -of him; and being about the same age, as I supposed, I was taken once -from Zoar, where I lived, to Goshen to see him. But he was dead. He had -been dead almost a year, so that it was impossible to see him. He died -of the most singular disease: it was from _not_ eating green apples in -the season of them. This boy, whose name was Solomon, before he died -would rather split up kindling-wood for his mother than go a-fishing: -the consequence was, that he was kept at splitting kindling-wood -and such work most of the time, and grew a better and more useful -boy day by day. Solomon would not disobey his parents and eat green -apples,—not even when they were ripe enough to knock off with a -stick,—but he had such a longing for them that he pined and passed -away. If he had eaten the green apples he would have died of them, -probably; so that his example is a difficult one to follow. In fact, a -boy is a hard subject to get a moral from. All his little playmates who -ate green apples came to Solomon's funeral, and were very sorry for -what they had done. - -[Illustration: RUNNING ON THE STONE WALL] - -John was a very different boy from Solomon, not half so good, nor half -so dead. He was a farmer's boy, as Solomon was, but he did not take -so much interest in the farm. If John could have had his way he would -have discovered a cave full of diamonds, and lots of nail-kegs full of -gold-pieces and Spanish dollars, with a pretty little girl living in -the cave, and two beautifully caparisoned horses, upon which, taking -the jewels and money, they would have ridden off together, he did not -know where. John had got thus far in his studies, which were apparently -arithmetic and geography, but were in reality the Arabian Nights, and -other books of high and mighty adventure. He was a simple country boy, -and did not know much about the world as it is, but he had one of his -own imagination, in which he lived a good deal. I dare say he found out -soon enough what the world is, and he had a lesson or two when he was -quite young, in two incidents, which I may as well relate. - -If you had seen John at this time, you might have thought he was only -a shabbily dressed country lad, and you never would have guessed what -beautiful thoughts he sometimes had as he went stubbing his toes along -the dusty road, nor what a chivalrous little fellow he was. You would -have seen a short boy, barefooted, with trousers at once too big and -too short, held up, perhaps, by one suspender only; a checked cotton -shirt; and a hat of braided palm-leaf, frayed at the edges and bulged -up in the crown. It is impossible to keep a hat neat if you use it to -catch bumble-bees and whisk 'em; to bail the water from a leaky boat; -to catch minnows in; to put over honey-bees' nests; and to transport -pebbles, strawberries, and hens' eggs. John usually carried a sling -in his hand, or a bow, or a limber stick sharp at one end, from which -he could sling apples a great distance. If he walked in the road, he -walked in the middle of it, shuffling up the dust; or, if he went -elsewhere, he was likely to be running on the top of the fence or the -stone-wall, and chasing chipmunks. - -John knew the best place to dig sweet-flag in all the farm; it was in a -meadow by the river, where the bobolinks sang so gayly. He never liked -to hear the bobolink sing, however, for he said it always reminded -him of the whetting of a scythe, and _that_ reminded him of spreading -hay; and if there was anything he hated it was spreading hay after the -mowers. "I guess you wouldn't like it yourself," said John, "with the -stubs getting into your feet, and the hot sun, and the men getting -ahead of you, all you could do." - -Towards evening once, John was coming along the road home with some -stalks of the sweet-flag in his hand; there is a succulent pith in the -end of the stalk which is very good to eat, tender, and not so strong -as the root; and John liked to pull it, and carry home what he did -not eat on the way. As he was walking along he met a carriage, which -stopped opposite to him; he also stopped and bowed, as country boys -used to bow in John's day. A lady leaned from the carriage and said,— - -"What have you got, little boy?" - -She seemed to be the most beautiful woman John had ever seen; with -light hair, dark, tender eyes, and the sweetest smile. There was that -in her gracious mien and in her dress which reminded John of the -beautiful castle ladies, with whom he was well acquainted in books. He -felt that he knew her at once, and he also seemed to be a sort of young -prince himself. I fancy he didn't look much like one. But of his own -appearance he thought not at all, as he replied to the lady's question, -without the least embarrassment,— - -"It's sweet-flag stalk; would you like some?" - -"Indeed, I should like to taste it," said the lady, with a most winning -smile. "I used to be very fond of it when I was a little girl." - -John was delighted that the lady should like sweet-flag, and that she -was pleased to accept it from him. He thought himself that it was about -the best thing to eat he knew. He handed up a large bunch of it. The -lady took two or three stalks, and was about to return the rest, when -John said,— - -"Please keep it all, ma'am. I can get lots more. I know where it's ever -so thick." - -"Thank you, thank you," said the lady; and as the carriage started she -reached out her hand to John. He did not understand the motion, until -he saw a cent drop in the road at his feet. Instantly all his illusion -and his pleasure vanished. Something like tears were in his eyes as he -shouted,— - -"I don't want your cent. I don't sell flag!" - -John was intensely mortified. "I suppose," he said, "she thought I was -a sort of beggar-boy. To think of selling flag!" - -At any rate, he walked away and left the cent in the road, a humiliated -boy. The next day he told Jim Gates about it. Jim said he was green not -to take the money; he'd go and look for it now, if he would tell him -about where it dropped. And Jim did spend an hour poking about in the -dirt, but he did not find the cent. Jim, however, had an idea: he said -he was going to dig sweet-flag, and see if another carriage wouldn't -come along. - -John's next rebuff and knowledge of the world was of another sort. -He was again walking the road at twilight, when he was overtaken by -a wagon with one seat, upon which were two pretty girls, and a young -gentleman sat between them driving. It was a merry party, and John -could hear them laughing and singing as they approached him. The wagon -stopped when it overtook him, and one of the sweet-faced girls leaned -from the seat and said, quite seriously and pleasantly,— - -"Little boy, how's your mar?" - -John was surprised and puzzled for a moment. He had never seen the -young lady, but he thought that she perhaps knew his mother; at any -rate his instinct of politeness made him say,— - -"She's pretty well, I thank you." - -"Does she know you are out?" - -And thereupon all three in the wagon burst into a roar of laughter and -dashed on. - -It flashed upon John in a moment that he had been imposed on, and it -hurt him dreadfully. His self-respect was injured somehow, and he felt -as if his lovely, gentle mother had been insulted. He would like to -have thrown a stone at the wagon, and in a rage he cried,— - -"You're a nice"—But he couldn't think of any hard, bitter words quick -enough. - -Probably the young lady, who might have been almost any young lady, -never knew what a cruel thing she had done. - - - - -XI - -HOME INVENTIONS - - -The winter season is not all sliding down hill for the farmer-boy by -any means; yet he contrives to get as much fun out of it as from any -part of the year. There is a difference in boys: some are always jolly, -and some go scowling always through life as if they had a stone-bruise -on each heel. I like a jolly boy. - -I used to know one who came round every morning to sell molasses candy, -offering two sticks for a cent apiece; it was worth fifty cents a day -to see his cheery face. That boy rose in the world. He is now the owner -of a large town at the West. To be sure, there are no houses in it -except his own; but there is a map of it and roads and streets are laid -out on it, with dwellings and churches and academies and a college and -an opera-house, and you could scarcely tell it from Springfield or -Hartford, on paper. He and all his family have the fever and ague, and -shake worse than the people at Lebanon: but they do not mind it; it -makes them lively, in fact. Ed May is just as jolly as he used to be. -He calls his town Mayopolis, and expects to be mayor of it; his wife, -however, calls the town Maybe. - -[Illustration: COASTING] - -The farmer-boy likes to have winter come, for one thing, because it -freezes up the ground so that he can't dig in it; and it is covered -with snow, so that there is no picking up stones, nor driving the cows -to pasture. He would have a very easy time if it were not for the -getting up before daylight to build the fires and do the "chores." -Nature intended the long winter nights for the farmer-boy to sleep; -but in my day he was expected to open his sleepy eyes when the cock -crew, get out of the warm bed and light a candle, struggle into his -cold pantaloons, and pull on boots in which the thermometer would have -gone down to zero, rake open the coals on the hearth and start the -morning fire, and then go to the barn to "fodder." The frost was thick -on the kitchen windows; the snow was drifted against the door; and -the journey to the barn, in the pale light of dawn, over the creaking -snow, was like an exile's trip to Siberia. The boy was not half awake -when he stumbled into the cold barn, and was greeted by the lowing and -bleating and neighing of cattle waiting for their breakfast. How their -breath steamed up from the mangers, and hung in frosty spears from -their noses! Through the great lofts above the hay, where the swallows -nested, the winter wind whistled and the snow sifted. Those old barns -were well ventilated. - -I used to spend much valuable time in planning a barn that should be -tight and warm, with a fire in it if necessary in order to keep the -temperature somewhere near the freezing point. I couldn't see how the -cattle could live in a place where a lively boy, full of young blood, -would freeze to death in a short time if he did not swing his arms and -slap his hands, and jump about like a goat. I thought I would have a -sort of perpetual manger that should shake down the hay when it was -wanted, and a self-acting machine that should cut up the turnips and -pass them into the mangers, and water always flowing for the cattle -and horses to drink. With these simple arrangements I could lie in -bed, and know that the "chores" were doing themselves. It would also -be necessary, in order that I should not be disturbed, that the crow -should be taken out of the roosters, but I could think of no process -to do it. It seems to me that the hen-breeders, if they know as much -as they say they do, might raise a breed of crowless roosters, for the -benefit of boys, quiet neighborhoods, and sleepy families. - -There was another notion that I had, about kindling the kitchen fire, -that I never carried out. It was, to have a spring at the head of my -bed, connecting with a wire, which should run to a torpedo which I -would plant overnight in the ashes of the fireplace. By touching the -spring I could explode the torpedo, which would scatter the ashes and -uncover the live coals, and at the same time shake down the sticks -of wood which were standing by the side of the ashes in the chimney, -and the fire would kindle itself. This ingenious plan was frowned on -by the whole family, who said they did not want to be waked up every -morning by an explosion. And yet they expected me to wake up without -an explosion. A boy's plans for making life agreeable are hardly ever -heeded. - -I never knew a boy farmer who was not eager to go to the district -school in the winter. There is such a chance for learning, that he -must be a dull boy who does not come out in the spring a fair skater, -an accurate snowballer, and an accomplished slider downhill, with or -without a board, on his seat, on his stomach, or on his feet. Take a -moderate hill, with a foot-slide down it worn to icy smoothness, and a -"go-round" of boys on it, and there is nothing like it for whittling -away boot-leather. The boy is the shoemaker's friend. An active lad -can wear down a pair of cowhide soles in a week so that the ice will -scrape his toes. Sledding or coasting is also slow fun compared to -the "bareback" sliding down a steep hill over a hard, glistening -crust. It is not only dangerous, but it is destructive to jacket and -pantaloons to a degree to make a tailor laugh. If any other animal wore -out his skin as fast as a schoolboy wears out his clothes in winter, -it would need a new one once a month. In a country district-school, -patches were not by any means a sign of poverty, but of the boy's -courage and adventurous disposition. Our elders used to threaten to -dress us in leather and put sheet-iron seats in our trousers. The -boy _said_ that he wore out his trousers on the hard seats in the -school-house ciphering hard sums. For that extraordinary statement -he received two castigations,—one at home, that was mild, and one -from the schoolmaster, who was careful to lay the rod upon the boy's -sliding-place, punishing him, as he jocosely called it, on a sliding -scale, according to the thinness of his pantaloons. - -What I liked best at school, however, was the study of history, early -history, the Indian wars. We studied it mostly at noontime, and we had -it illustrated as the children nowadays have "object-lessons,"—though -our object was not so much to have lessons as it was to revive real -history. - -Back of the school-house rose a round hill, upon which tradition said -had stood in colonial times a block-house, built by the settlers for -defense against the Indians. For the Indians had the idea that the -whites were not settled enough, and used to come nights to settle them -with a tomahawk. It was called Fort Hill. It was very steep on each -side, and the river ran close by. It was a charming place in summer, -where one could find laurel, and checkerberries, and sassafras roots, -and sit in the cool breeze, looking at the mountains across the river, -and listening to the murmur of the Deerfield. The Methodists built a -meeting-house there afterwards, but the hill was so slippery in winter -that the aged could not climb it, and the wind raged so fiercely -that it blew nearly all the young Methodists away (many of whom were -afterwards heard of in the West), and finally the meeting-house -itself came down into the valley and grew a steeple, and enjoyed -itself ever afterwards. It used to be a notion in New England that a -meeting-house ought to stand as near heaven as possible. - -[Illustration: IN SCHOOL] - -The boys at our school divided themselves into two parties; one was the -Early Settlers and the other the Pequots, the latter the most numerous. -The Early Settlers built a snow fort on the hill, and a strong fortress -it was, constructed of snowballs rolled up to a vast size (larger than -the Cyclopean blocks of stone which form the ancient Etruscan walls -in Italy), piled one upon another, and the whole cemented by pouring -on water which froze and made the walls solid. The Pequots helped the -whites build it. It had a covered way under the snow, through which -only could it be entered, and it had bastions and towers and openings -to fire from, and a great many other things for which there are no -names in military books. And it had a glacis and a ditch outside. - -When it was completed, the Early Settlers, leaving the women in the -school-house, a prey to the Indians, used to retire into it, and await -the attack of the Pequots. There was only a handful of the garrison, -while the Indians were many, and also barbarous. It was agreed that -they should be barbarous. And it was in this light that the great -question was settled whether a boy might snowball with balls that he -had soaked over night in water and let freeze. They were as hard as -cobblestones, and if a boy should be hit in the head by one of them -he could not tell whether he was a Pequot or an Early Settler. It -was considered as unfair to use these ice-balls in an open fight, as -it is to use poisoned ammunition in real war. But as the whites were -protected by the fort, and the Indians were treacherous by nature, it -was decided that the latter might use the hard missiles. - -The Pequots used to come swarming up the hill, with hideous war-whoops, -attacking the fort on all sides with great noise and a shower of balls. -The garrison replied with yells of defiance and well-directed shots, -hurling back the invaders when they attempted to scale the walls. -The Settlers had the advantage of position, but they were sometimes -overpowered by numbers, and would often have had to surrender but for -the ringing of the school-bell. The Pequots were in great fear of the -school-bell. - -I do not remember that the whites ever hauled down their flag and -surrendered voluntarily; but once or twice the fort was carried by -storm and the garrison were massacred to a boy, and thrown out of the -fortress, having been first scalped. To take a boy's cap was to scalp -him, and after that he was dead, if he played fair. There were a great -many hard hits given and taken, but always cheerfully, for it was in -the cause of our early history. The history of Greece and Rome was -stuff compared to this. And we had many boys in our school who could -imitate the Indian war-whoop enough better than they could scan _arma, -virumque cano_. - - - - -XII - -THE LONELY FARM-HOUSE - - -The winter evenings of the farmer-boy in New England used not to be so -gay as to tire him of the pleasures of life before he became of age. -A remote farm-house, standing a little off the road, banked up with -sawdust and earth to keep the frost out of the cellar, blockaded with -snow, and flying a blue flag of smoke from its chimney, looks like -a besieged fort. On cold and stormy winter nights, to the traveler -wearily dragging along in his creaking sleigh, the light from its -windows suggests a house of refuge and the cheer of a blazing fire. But -it is no less a fort, into which the family retire when the New England -winter on the hills really sets in. - -The boy is an important part of the garrison. He is not only one of the -best means of communicating with the outer world, but he furnishes -half the entertainment and takes two thirds of the scolding of the -family circle. A farm would come to grief without a boy on it, but it -is impossible to think of a farm-house without a boy in it. - -[Illustration: A REMOTE FARM-HOUSE] - -"That boy" brings life into the house; his tracks are to be seen -everywhere, he leaves all the doors open, he hasn't half filled the -wood-box, he makes noise enough to wake the dead; or he is in a -brown-study by the fire and cannot be stirred, or he has fastened a -grip upon some Crusoe book which cannot easily be shaken off. I suppose -that the farmer-boy's evenings are not now what they used to be; that -he has more books, and less to do, and is not half so good a boy as -formerly, when he used to think the almanac was pretty lively reading, -and the comic almanac, if he could get hold of that, was a supreme -delight. - -Of course he had the evenings to himself after he had done the "chores" -at the barn, brought in the wood and piled it high in the box, ready to -be heaped upon the great open fire. It was nearly dark when he came -from school (with its continuation of snowballing and sliding), and he -always had an agreeable time stumbling and fumbling around in barn and -woodhouse in the waning light. - -John used to say that he supposed nobody would do his "chores" if he -did not get home till midnight; and he was never contradicted. Whatever -happened to him, and whatever length of days or sort of weather was -produced by the almanac, the cardinal rule was that he should be at -home before dark. - -John used to imagine what people did in the dark ages, and wonder -sometimes whether he wasn't still in them. - -Of course, John had nothing to do all the evening, after his -"chores,"—except little things. While he drew his chair up to the -table in order to get the full radiance of the tallow candle on his -slate or his book, the women of the house also sat by the table -knitting and sewing. The head of the house sat in his chair, tipped -back against the chimney; the hired man was in danger of burning his -boots in the fire. John might be deep in the excitement of a bear -story, or be hard at writing a "composition" on his greasy slate; -but, whatever he was doing, he was the only one who could always be -interrupted. It was he who must snuff the candles, and put on a stick -of wood, and toast the cheese, and turn the apples, and crack the -nuts. He knew where the fox-and-geese board was, and he could find the -twelve-men-Morris. Considering that he was expected to go to bed at -eight o'clock, one would say that the opportunity for study was not -great, and that his reading was rather interrupted. There seemed to be -always something for him to do, even when all the rest of the family -came as near being idle as is ever possible in a New England household. - -No wonder that John was not sleepy at eight o'clock: he had been flying -about while the others had been yawning before the fire. He would like -to sit up just to see how much more solemn and stupid it would become -as the night went on; he wanted to tinker his skates, to mend his sled, -to finish that chapter. Why should he go away from that bright blaze, -and the company that sat in its radiance, to the cold and solitude of -his chamber? Why didn't the people who were sleepy go to bed? - -How lonesome the old house was; how cold it was, away from that great -central fire in the heart of it; how its timbers creaked as if in the -contracting pinch of the frost; what a rattling there was of windows, -what a concerted attack upon the clapboards; how the floors squeaked, -and what gusts from round corners came to snatch the feeble flame of -the candle from the boy's hand! How he shivered, as he paused at the -staircase window to look out upon the great fields of snow, upon the -stripped forest, through which he could hear the wind raving in a kind -of fury, and up at the black flying clouds, amid which the young moon -was dashing and driven on like a frail shallop at sea! And his teeth -chattered more than ever when he got into the icy sheets, and drew -himself up into a ball in his flannel nightgown, like a fox in his hole. - -For a little time he could hear the noises downstairs, and an -occasional laugh; he could guess that now they were having cider, and -now apples were going round; and he could feel the wind tugging at the -house, even sometimes shaking the bed. But this did not last long. He -soon went away into a country he always delighted to be in; a calm -place where the wind never blew, and no one dictated the time of going -to bed to any one else. I like to think of him sleeping there, in such -rude surroundings, ingenuous, innocent, mischievous, with no thought -of the buffeting he is to get from a world that has a good many worse -places for a boy than the hearth of an old farm-house, and the sweet -though undemonstrative affection of its family life. - -But there were other evenings in the boy's life that were different -from these at home, and one of them he will never forget. It opened -a new world to John, and set him into a great flutter. It produced a -revolution in his mind in regard to neckties; it made him wonder if -greased boots were quite the thing compared with blacked boots; and he -wished he had a long looking-glass, so that he could see, as he walked -away from it, what was the effect of round patches on the portion of -his trousers he could not see except in a mirror; and if patches were -quite stylish, even on everyday trousers. And he began to be very much -troubled about the parting of his hair, and how to find out on which -side was the natural part. - -The evening to which I refer was that of John's first party. He knew -the girls at school, and he was interested in some of them with a -different interest from that he took in the boys. He never wanted to -"take it out" with one of them, for an insult, in a stand-up fight, -and he instinctively softened a boy's natural rudeness when he was -with them. He would help a timid little girl to stand erect and slide; -he would draw her on his sled, till his hands were stiff with cold, -without a murmur; he would generously give her red apples into which -he longed to set his own sharp teeth; and he would cut in two his -lead-pencil for a girl, when he would not for a boy. Had he not some of -the beautiful auburn tresses of Cynthia Rudd in his skate, spruce-gum, -and wintergreen box at home? And yet the grand sentiment of life was -little awakened in John. He liked best to be with boys, and their -rough play suited him better than the amusements of the shrinking, -fluttering, timid, and sensitive little girls. John had not learned -then that a spider-web is stronger than a cable; or that a pretty -little girl could turn him round her finger a great deal easier than a -big bully of a boy could make him cry "enough." - -John had indeed been at spelling-schools, and had accomplished the -feat of "going home with a girl" afterwards; and he had been growing -into the habit of looking around in meeting on Sunday, and noticing -how Cynthia was dressed, and not enjoying the service quite as much if -Cynthia was absent as when she was present. But there was very little -sentiment in all this, and nothing whatever to make John blush at -hearing her name. - -But now John was invited to a regular party. There was the invitation, -in a three-cornered billet, sealed with a transparent wafer: "Miss C. -Rudd requests the pleasure of the company of," etc., all in blue ink, -and the finest kind of pin-scratching writing. What a precious document -it was to John! It even exhaled a faint sort of perfume, whether of -lavender or caraway-seed he could not tell. He read it over a hundred -times, and showed it confidentially to his favorite cousin, who had -beaux of her own, and had even "sat up" with them in the parlor. And -from this sympathetic cousin John got advice as to what he should wear -and how he should conduct himself at the party. - - - - -XIII - -JOHN'S FIRST PARTY - - -It turned out that John did not go after all to Cynthia Rudd's party, -having broken through the ice on the river when he was skating that -day, and, as the boy who pulled him out said, "come within an inch of -his life." But he took care not to tumble into anything that should -keep him from the next party, which was given with due formality by -Melinda Mayhew. - -John had been many a time to the house of Deacon Mayhew, and -never with any hesitation, even if he knew that both the deacon's -daughters—Melinda and Sophronia—were at home. The only fear he had -felt was of the deacon's big dog, who always surlily watched him as -he came up the tanbark walk, and made a rush at him if he showed the -least sign of wavering. But upon the night of the party his courage -vanished, and he thought he would rather face all the dogs in town than -knock at the front door. - -The parlor was lighted up, and as John stood on the broad flagging -before the front door, by the lilac-bush, he could hear the sound of -voices—girls' voices—which set his heart in a flutter. He could -face the whole district school of girls without flinching,—he didn't -mind 'em in the meeting-house in their Sunday best; but he began to -be conscious that now he was passing to a new sphere, where the girls -are supreme and superior, and he began to feel for the first time that -he was an awkward boy. The girl takes to society as naturally as a -duckling does to the placid pond, but with a semblance of sly timidity; -the boy plunges in with a great splash, and hides his shy awkwardness -in noise and commotion. - -When John entered, the company had nearly all come. He knew them every -one, and yet there was something about them strange and unfamiliar. -They were all a little afraid of each other, as people are apt to be -when they are well dressed and met together for social purposes in the -country. To be at a real party was a novel thing for most of them, -and put a constraint upon them which they could not at once overcome. -Perhaps it was because they were in the awful parlor, that carpeted -room of haircloth furniture, which was so seldom opened. Upon the -wall hung two certificates framed in black,—one certifying that, by -the payment of fifty dollars, Deacon Mayhew was a life member of the -American Tract Society; and the other that, by a like outlay of bread -cast upon the waters, his wife was a life member of the A. B. C. F. M., -a portion of the alphabet which has an awful significance to all New -England childhood. These certificates are a sort of receipt in full for -charity, and are a constant and consoling reminder to the farmer that -he has discharged his religious duties. - -There was a fire on the broad hearth, and that, with the tallow candles -on the mantelpiece, made quite an illumination in the room, and enabled -the boys, who were mostly on one side of the room, to see the girls, -who were on the other, quite plainly. How sweet and demure the girls -looked, to be sure! Every boy was thinking if his hair was slick, and -feeling the full embarrassment of his entrance into fashionable life. -It was queer that these children, who were so free everywhere else, -should be so constrained now, and not know what to do with themselves. -The shooting of a spark out upon the carpet was a great relief, and was -accompanied by a deal of scrambling to throw it back into the fire, and -caused much giggling. It was only gradually that the formality was at -all broken, and the young people got together and found their tongues. - -John at length found himself with Cynthia Rudd, to his great delight -and considerable embarrassment, for Cynthia, who was older than John, -never looked so pretty. To his surprise he had nothing to say to her. -They had always found plenty to talk about before, but now nothing that -he could think of seemed worth saying at a party. - -"It is a pleasant evening," said John. - -"It is quite so," replied Cynthia. - -"Did you come in a cutter?" asked John, anxiously. - -"No; I walked on the crust, and it was perfectly lovely walking," said -Cynthia, in a burst of confidence. - -"Was it slippery?" continued John. - -"Not very." - -John hoped it would be slippery—very—when he walked home with -Cynthia, as he determined to do, but he did not dare to say so, and the -conversation ran aground again. John thought about his dog and his sled -and his yoke of steers, but he didn't see any way to bring them into -conversation. Had she read the "Swiss Family Robinson"? Only a little -ways. John said it was splendid, and he would lend it to her, for which -she thanked him, and said, with such a sweet expression, she should be -so glad to have it from him. That was encouraging. - -And then John asked Cynthia if she had seen Sally Hawkes since the -husking at their house, when Sally found so many red ears; and didn't -she think she was a real pretty girl? - -"Yes, she was right pretty;" and Cynthia guessed that Sally knew it -pretty well. But did John like the color of her eyes? - -No; John didn't like the color of her eyes exactly. - -"Her mouth would be well enough if she didn't laugh so much and show -her teeth." - -John said her mouth was her worst feature. - -"Oh no," said Cynthia, warmly; "her mouth is better than her nose." - -John didn't know but it was better than her nose, and he should like -her looks better if her hair wasn't so dreadful black. - -But Cynthia, who could afford to be generous now, said she liked black -hair, and she wished hers was dark. Whereupon John protested that he -liked light hair—auburn hair—of all things. - -And Cynthia said that Sally was a dear, good girl, and she didn't -believe one word of the story that she only really found one red ear at -the husking that night, and hid that and kept pulling it out as if it -were a new one. - -And so the conversation, once started, went on as briskly as -possible about the paring-bee and the spelling-school, and the new -singing-master who was coming, and how Jack Thompson had gone to -Northampton to be a clerk in a store, and how Elvira Reddington, in -the geography class at school, was asked what was the capital of -Massachusetts, and had answered "Northampton," and all the school -laughed. John enjoyed the conversation amazingly, and he half wished -that he and Cynthia were the whole of the party. - -But the party had meantime got into operation, and the formality was -broken up when the boys and girls had ventured out of the parlor into -the more comfortable living-room, with its easy-chairs and everyday -things, and even gone so far as to penetrate the kitchen in their -frolic. As soon as they forgot they were a party, they began to enjoy -themselves. - -But the real pleasure only began with the games. The party was nothing -without the games, and indeed it was made for the games. Very likely -it was one of the timid girls who proposed to play something, and when -the ice was once broken, the whole company went into the business -enthusiastically. There was no dancing. We should hope not. Not in -the deacon's house; not with the deacon's daughters, nor anywhere in -this good Puritanic society. Dancing was a sin in itself, and no one -could tell what it would lead to. But there was no reason why the boys -and girls shouldn't come together and kiss each other during a whole -evening occasionally. Kissing was a sign of peace, and was not at all -like taking hold of hands and skipping about to the scraping of a -wicked fiddle. - -In the games there was a great deal of clasping hands, of going round -in a circle, of passing under each other's elevated arms, of singing -about my true love, and the end was kisses distributed with more or -less partiality according to the rules of the play; but, thank Heaven, -there was no fiddler. John liked it all, and was quite brave about -paying all the forfeits imposed on him, even to the kissing all the -girls in the room; but he thought he could have amended that by kissing -a few of them a good many times instead of kissing them all once. - -But John was destined to have a damper put upon his enjoyment. They -were playing a most fascinating game, in which they all stand in a -circle and sing a philandering song, except one who is in the centre -of the ring and holds a cushion. At a certain word in the song, the -one in the centre throws the cushion at the feet of some one in the -ring, indicating thereby the choice of a mate, and then the two sweetly -kneel upon the cushion, like two meek angels, and—and so forth. Then -the chosen one takes the cushion and the delightful play goes on. It -is very easy, as it will be seen, to learn how to play it. Cynthia was -holding the cushion, and at the fatal word she threw it down,—not -before John, but in front of Ephraim Leggett. And they two kneeled, and -so forth. John was astounded. He had never conceived of such perfidy -in the female heart. He felt like wiping Ephraim off the face of the -earth, only Ephraim was older and bigger than he. When it came his -turn at length—thanks to a plain little girl for whose admiration he -didn't care a straw—he threw the cushion down before Melinda Mayhew -with all the devotion he could muster, and a dagger look at Cynthia. -And Cynthia's perfidious smile only enraged him the more. John felt -wronged, and worked himself up to pass a wretched evening. - -When supper came he never went near Cynthia, and busied himself in -carrying different kinds of pie and cake, and red apples and cider, -to the girls he liked the least. He shunned Cynthia, and when he was -accidentally near her, and she asked him if he would get her a glass of -cider, he rudely told her—like a goose as he was—that she had better -ask Ephraim. That seemed to him very smart; but he got more and more -miserable, and began to feel that he was making himself ridiculous. - -Girls have a great deal more good sense in such matters than boys. -Cynthia went to John, at length, and asked him simply what the -matter was. John blushed, and said that nothing was the matter. Cynthia -said that it wouldn't do for two people always to be together at a -party; and so they made up, and John obtained permission to "see" -Cynthia home. - -[Illustration: GOING HOME WITH CYNTHIA] - -It was after half past nine when the great festivities at the Deacon's -broke up, and John walked home with Cynthia over the shining crust and -under the stars. It was mostly a silent walk, for this was also an -occasion when it is difficult to find anything fit to say. And John -was thinking all the way how he should bid Cynthia goodnight; whether -it would do and whether it wouldn't do, this not being a game, and -no forfeits attaching to it. When they reached the gate there was an -awkward little pause. John said the stars were uncommonly bright. -Cynthia did not deny it, but waited a minute and then turned abruptly -away, with "Good-night, John!" - -"Good-night, Cynthia!" - -And the party was over, and Cynthia was gone, and John went home in a -kind of dissatisfaction with himself. - -It was long before he could go to sleep for thinking of the new world -opened to him, and imagining how he would act under a hundred different -circumstances, and what he would say, and what Cynthia would say; but a -dream at length came, and led him away to a great city and a brilliant -house; and while he was there he heard a loud rapping on the under -floor, and saw that it was daylight. - - - - -XIV - -THE SUGAR CAMP - - -I think there is no part of farming the boy enjoys more than the making -of maple sugar; it is better than "blackberrying," and nearly as good -as fishing. And one reason he likes this work is that somebody else -does the most of it. It is a sort of work in which he can appear to be -very active and yet not do much. - -And it exactly suits the temperament of a real boy to be very busy -about nothing. If the power, for instance, that is expended in play -by a boy between the ages of eight and fourteen could be applied to -some industry, we should see wonderful results. But a boy is like a -galvanic battery that is not in connection with anything: he generates -electricity and plays it off into the air with the most reckless -prodigality. And I, for one, wouldn't have it otherwise. It is as much -a boy's business to play off his energies into space as it is for a -flower to blow, or a catbird to sing snatches of the tunes of all the -other birds. - -In my day, maple-sugar making used to be something between picnicking -and being shipwrecked on a fertile island where one should save from -the wreck tubs and augers, and great kettles and pork, and hen's-eggs -and rye-and-indian bread, and begin at once to lead the sweetest life -in the world. I am told that it is something different nowadays, and -that there is more desire to save the sap, and make good, pure sugar, -and sell it for a large price, than there used to be, and that the -old fun and picturesqueness of the business are pretty much gone. I -am told that it is the custom to carefully collect the sap and bring -it to the house, where there are built brick arches, over which it is -evaporated in shallow pans; and that pains is taken to keep the leaves, -sticks, and ashes and coals out of it; and that the sugar is clarified; -and that, in short, it is a money-making business, in which there is -very little fun, and that the boy is not allowed to dip his paddle -into the kettle of boiling sugar and lick off the delicious sirup. The -prohibition may improve the sugar, but it is cruel to the boy. - -As I remember the New England boy (and I am very intimate with one), -he used to be on the _qui vive_ in the spring for the sap to begin -running. I think he discovered it as soon as anybody. Perhaps he knew -it by a feeling of something starting in his own veins,—a sort of -spring stir in his legs and arms, which tempted him to stand on his -head, or throw a handspring, if he could find a spot of ground from -which the snow had melted. The sap stirs early in the legs of a country -boy, and shows itself in uneasiness in the toes, which get tired of -boots, and want to come out and touch the soil just as soon as the sun -has warmed it a little. The country boy goes barefoot just as naturally -as the trees burst their buds, which were packed and varnished over in -the fall to keep the water and the frost out. Perhaps the boy has been -out digging into the maple-trees with his jack-knife; at any rate, he -is pretty sure to announce the discovery as he comes running into the -house in a great state of excitement—as if he had heard a hen cackle -in the barn—with, "Sap's runnin'!" - -And then, indeed, the stir and excitement begin. The sap-buckets, -which have been stored in the garret over the woodhouse, and which -the boy has occasionally climbed up to look at with another boy, for -they are full of sweet suggestions of the annual spring frolic,—the -sap-buckets are brought down and set out on the south side of the -house and scalded. The snow is still a foot or two feet deep in the -woods, and the ox-sled is got out to make a road to the sugar camp, -and the campaign begins. The boy is everywhere present, superintending -everything, asking questions, and filled with a desire to help the -excitement. - -It is a great day when the cart is loaded with the buckets and the -procession starts into the woods. The sun shines almost unobstructedly -into the forest, for there are only naked branches to bar it; the snow -is soft and beginning to sink down, leaving the young bushes spindling -up everywhere; the snow-birds are twittering about, and the noise -of shouting and of the blows of the axe echoes far and wide. This is -spring, and the boy can scarcely contain his delight that his outdoor -life is about to begin again. - -In the first place the men go about and tap the trees, drive in -the spouts, and hang the buckets under. The boy watches all these -operations with the greatest interest. He wishes that some time when a -hole is bored in a tree that the sap would spout out in a stream as it -does when a cider-barrel is tapped; but it never does, it only drops, -sometimes almost in a stream, but on the whole slowly, and the boy -learns that the sweet things of the world have to be patiently waited -for, and do not usually come otherwise than drop by drop. - -Then the camp is to be cleared of snow. The shanty is re-covered with -boughs. In front of it two enormous logs are rolled nearly together, -and a fire is built between them. Forked sticks are set at each end, -and a long pole is laid on them, and on this are hung the great caldron -kettles. The huge hogsheads are turned right side up, and cleaned out -to receive the sap that is gathered. And now, if there is a good "sap -run," the establishment is under full headway. - -The great fire that is kindled up is never let out, night or day, as -long as the season lasts. Somebody is always cutting wood to feed -it; somebody is busy most of the time gathering in the sap; somebody -is required to watch the kettles that they do not boil over, and to -fill them. It is not the boy, however; he is too busy with things in -general to be of any use in details. He has his own little sap-yoke -and small pails, with which he gathers the sweet liquid. He has a -little boiling-place of his own, with small logs and a tiny kettle. In -the great kettles the boiling goes on slowly, and the liquid, as it -thickens, is dipped from one to another, until in the end kettle it is -reduced to sirup, and is taken out to cool and settle, until enough is -made to "sugar off." To "sugar off" is to boil the sirup until it is -thick enough to crystallize into sugar. This is the grand event, and -it is only done once in two or three days. - -[Illustration: A YOUNG SUGAR-MAKER] - -But the boy's desire is to "sugar off" perpetually. He boils his kettle -down as rapidly as possible; he is not particular about chips, scum, or -ashes; he is apt to burn his sugar; but if he can get enough to make a -little wax on the snow, or to scrape from the bottom of the kettle with -his wooden paddle, he is happy. A good deal is wasted on his hands and -the outside of his face and on his clothes, but he does not care; he is -not stingy. - -To watch the operations of the big fire gives him constant pleasure. -Sometimes he is left to watch the boiling kettles, with a piece of -pork tied on the end of a stick, which he dips into the boiling mass -when it threatens to go over. He is constantly tasting of it, however, -to see if it is not almost sirup. He has a long round stick, whittled -smooth at one end, which he uses for this purpose, at the constant -risk of burning his tongue. The smoke blows in his face; he is grimy -with ashes; he is altogether such a mass of dirt, stickiness, and -sweetness, that his own mother wouldn't know him. - -He likes to boil eggs with the hired man in the hot sap; he likes to -roast potatoes in the ashes, and he would live in the camp day and -night if he were permitted. Some of the hired men sleep in the bough -shanty and keep the fire blazing all night. To sleep there with them, -and awake in the night and hear the wind in the trees, and see the -sparks fly up to the sky, is a perfect realization of all the stories -of adventures he has ever read. He tells the other boys afterwards that -he heard something in the night that sounded very much like a bear. The -hired man says that he was very much scared by the hooting of an owl. - -The great occasions for the boy, though, are the times of "sugaring -off." Sometimes this used to be done in the evening, and it was made -the excuse for a frolic in the camp. The neighbors were invited; -sometimes even the pretty girls from the village, who filled all -the woods with their sweet voices and merry laughter and little -affectations of fright. The white snow still lies on all the ground -except the warm spot about the camp. The tree branches all show -distinctly in the light of the fire, which sends its ruddy glare far -into the darkness, and lights up the bough shanty, the hogsheads, the -buckets on the trees, and the group about the boiling kettles, until -the scene is like something taken out of a fairy play. If Rembrandt -could have seen a sugar party in a New England wood, he would have -made out of its strong contrasts of light and shade one of the finest -pictures in the world. But Rembrandt was not born in Massachusetts; -people hardly ever do know where to be born until it is too late. Being -born in the right place is a thing that has been very much neglected. - -[Illustration: WATCHING THE KETTLES] - -At these sugar parties every one was expected to eat as much sugar as -possible; and those who are practiced in it can eat a great deal. It -is a peculiarity about eating warm maple-sugar that, though you may -eat so much of it one day as to be sick and loathe the thought of it, -you will want it the next day more than ever. At the "sugaring off" -they used to pour the hot sugar upon the snow, where it congealed, -without crystallizing, into a sort of wax, which I do suppose is the -most delicious substance that was ever invented. And it takes a great -while to eat it. If one should close his teeth firmly on a ball of it, -he would be unable to open his mouth until it dissolved. The sensation -while it is melting is very pleasant, but one cannot converse. - -The boy used to make a big lump of it and give it to the dog, who -seized it with great avidity, and closed his jaws on it, as dogs will -on anything. It was funny the next moment to see the expression of -perfect surprise on the dog's face when he found that he could not open -his jaws. He shook his head; he sat down in despair; he ran round in -a circle; he dashed into the woods and back again. He did everything -except climb a tree and howl. It would have been such a relief to him -if he could have howled! But that was the one thing he could not do. - - - - -XV - -THE HEART OF NEW ENGLAND - - -It is a wonder that every New England boy does not turn out a poet, or -a missionary, or a peddler. Most of them used to. There is everything -in the heart of the New England hills to feed the imagination of the -boy, and excite his longing for strange countries. I scarcely know what -the subtle influence is that forms him and attracts him in the most -fascinating and aromatic of all lands, and yet urges him away from -all the sweet delights of his home to become a roamer in literature -and in the world,—a poet and a wanderer. There is something in the -soil and the pure air, I suspect, that promises more romance than is -forthcoming, that excites the imagination without satisfying it, and -begets the desire of adventure. And the prosaic life of the sweet -home does not at all correspond to the boy's dreams of the world. -In the good old days, I am told, the boys on the coast ran away and -became sailors; the country boys waited till they grew big enough to -be missionaries, and then they sailed away, and met the coast boys in -foreign ports. - -John used to spend hours in the top of a slender hickory-tree that -a little detached itself from the forest which crowned the brow of -the steep and lofty pasture behind his house. He was sent to make -war on the bushes that constantly encroached upon the pasture land; -but John had no hostility to any growing thing, and a very little -bushwhacking satisfied him. When he had grubbed up a few laurels and -young treesprouts, he was wont to retire into his favorite post of -observation and meditation. Perhaps he fancied that the wide-swaying -stem to which he clung was the mast of a ship; that the tossing forest -behind him was the heaving waves of the sea; and that the wind which -moaned over the woods and murmured in the leaves, and now and then -sent him a wide circuit in the air, as if he had been a blackbird on -the tiptop of a spruce, was an ocean gale. What life and action and -heroism there was to him in the multitudinous roar of the forest, and -what an eternity of existence in the monologue of the river which -brawled far, far below him over its wide stony bed! How the river -sparkled and danced and went on—now in a smooth amber current, now -fretted by the pebbles, but always with that continuous busy song! John -never knew that noise to cease, and he doubted not if he stayed here a -thousand years that same loud murmur would fill the air. - -On it went, under the wide spans of the old wooden, covered bridge, -swirling around the great rocks on which the piers stood, spreading -away below in shallows, and taking the shadows of a row of maples that -lined the green shore. Save this roar, no sound reached him, except -now and then the rumble of a wagon on the bridge, or the muffled, -far-off voices of some chance passers on the road. Seen from this high -perch, the familiar village, sending its brown roofs and white spires -up through the green foliage, had a strange aspect, and was like -some town in a book, say a village nestled in the Swiss mountains, or -something in Bohemia. And there, beyond the purple hills of Bozrah, and -not so far as the stony pastures of Zoar, whither John had helped drive -the colts and young stock in the spring, might be perhaps Jerusalem -itself. John had himself once been to the land of Canaan with his -grandfather, when he was a very small boy; and he had once seen an -actual, no-mistake Jew, a mysterious person, with uncut beard and long -hair, who sold scythe-snaths in that region, and about whom there was a -rumor that he was once caught and shaved by the indignant farmers, who -apprehended in his long locks a contempt of the Christian religion. Oh, -the world had vast possibilities for John. Away to the south, up a vast -basin of forest, there was a notch in the horizon and an opening in the -line of woods, where the road ran. Through this opening John imagined -an army might appear, perhaps British, perhaps Turks, and banners of -red and of yellow advance, and a cannon wheel about and point its long -nose and open on the valley. He fancied the army, after this salute, -winding down the mountain road, deploying in the meadows, and giving -the valley to pillage and to flame. In which event his position would -be an excellent one for observation and for safety. While he was in the -height of this engagement, perhaps the horn would be blown from the -back porch, reminding him that it was time to quit cutting brush and go -for the cows. As if there were no better use for a warrior and a poet -in New England than to send him for the cows! - -[Illustration: THE VILLAGE FROM THE HILL] - -John knew a boy—a bad enough boy, I dare say—who afterwards became a -general in the war, and went to Congress and got to be a real governor, -who used also to be sent to cut brush in the back pastures, and hated -it in his very soul; and by his wrong conduct forecast what kind of a -man he would be. This boy, as soon as he had cut about one brush, would -seek for one of several holes in the ground (and he was familiar with -several), in which lived a white-and-black animal that must always be -nameless in a book, but an animal quite capable of the most pungent -defense of himself. This young aspirant to Congress would cut a long -stick, with a little crotch in the end of it, and run it into the hole; -and when the crotch was punched into the fur and skin of the animal, he -would twist the stick round till it got a good grip on the skin, and -then he would pull the beast out; and when he got the white-and-black -just out of the hole so that his dog could seize him, the boy would -take to his heels, and leave the two to fight it out, content to scent -the battle afar off. And this boy, who was in training for public -life, would do this sort of thing all the afternoon; and when the sun -told him that he had spent long enough time cutting brush, he would -industriously go home as innocent as anybody. There are few such boys -as this nowadays; and that is the reason why the New England pastures -are so much overgrown with brush. - -John himself preferred to hunt the pugnacious woodchuck. He bore a -special grudge against this clover-eater, beyond the usual hostility -that boys feel for any wild animal. One day on his way to school -a woodchuck crossed the road before him, and John gave chase. The -woodchuck scrambled into an orchard and climbed a small apple-tree. -John thought this a most cowardly and unfair retreat, and stood under -the tree and taunted the animal and stoned it. Thereupon the woodchuck -dropped down on John and seized him by the leg of his trousers. John -was both enraged and scared by this dastardly attack; the teeth of the -enemy went through the cloth and met; and there he hung. John then made -a pivot of one leg and whirled himself around, swinging the woodchuck -in the air, until he shook him off; but in his departure the woodchuck -carried away a large piece of John's summer trousers leg. The boy never -forgot it. And whenever he had a holiday he used to expend an amount -of labor and ingenuity in the pursuit of woodchucks that would have -made his fortune in any useful pursuit. There was a hill-pasture, down -on one side of which ran a small brook, and this pasture was full of -woodchuck-holes. It required the assistance of several boys to capture -a woodchuck. It was first necessary by patient watching to ascertain -that the woodchuck was at home. When one was seen to enter his burrow, -then all the entries to it except one—there are usually three—were -plugged up with stones. A boy and a dog were then left to watch the -open hole, while John and his comrades went to the brook and began to -dig a canal, to turn the water into the residence of the woodchuck. -This was often a difficult feat of engineering and a long job. Often -it took more than half a day of hard labor with shovel and hoe to dig -the canal. But when the canal was finished, and the water began to pour -into the hole, the excitement began. How long would it take to fill -the hole and drown out the woodchuck? Sometimes it seemed as if the -hole were a bottomless pit. But sooner or later the water would rise -in it, and then there was sure to be seen the nose of the woodchuck, -keeping itself on a level with the rising flood. It was piteous to see -the anxious look of the hunted, half-drowned creature as it came to -the surface and caught sight of the dog. There the dog stood, at the -mouth of the hole, quivering with excitement from his nose to the tip -of his tail, and behind him were the cruel boys dancing with joy and -setting the dog on. The poor creature would disappear in the water in -terror; but he must breathe, and out would come his nose again, nearer -the dog each time. At last the water ran out of the hole as well as in, -and the soaked beast came with it, and made a desperate rush. But in a -trice the dog had him, and the boys stood off in a circle, with stones -in their hands, to see what they called "fair play." They maintained -perfect "neutrality" so long as the dog was getting the best of the -woodchuck; but if the latter was likely to escape, they "interfered" -in the interest of peace and the "balance of power," and killed the -woodchuck. This is a boy's notion of justice; of course he'd no -business to be a woodchuck,—an "unspeakable woodchuck." - -[Illustration: TREEING A WOODCHUCK] - -I used the word "aromatic" in relation to the New England soil. John -knew very well all its sweet, aromatic, pungent, and medicinal -products, and liked to search for the scented herbs and the wild fruits -and exquisite flowers; but he did not then know, and few do know, -that there is no part of the globe where the subtle chemistry of the -earth produces more that is agreeable to the senses than a New England -hill-pasture and the green meadow at its foot. The poets have succeeded -in turning our attention from it to the comparatively barren Orient as -the land of sweet-smelling spices and odorous gums. And it is indeed a -constant surprise that this poor and stony soil elaborates and grows so -many delicate and aromatic products. - -John, it is true, did not care much for anything that did not appeal -to his taste and smell and delight in brilliant color; and he trod -down the exquisite ferns and the wonderful mosses without compunction. -But he gathered from the crevices of the rocks the columbine and the -eglantine and the blue harebell; he picked the high-flavored alpine -strawberry, the blueberry, the boxberry, wild currants and gooseberries -and fox-grapes; he brought home armfuls of the pink-and-white laurel -and the wild honeysuckle; he dug the roots of the fragrant sassafras -and of the sweet-flag; he ate the tender leaves of the wintergreen -and its red berries; he gathered the peppermint and the spearmint; -he gnawed the twigs of the black birch; there was a stout fern which -he called "brake," which he pulled up, and found that the soft end -"tasted good;" he dug the amber gum from the spruce-tree, and liked to -smell, though he could not chew, the gum of the wild cherry; it was -his melancholy duty to bring home such medicinal herbs for the garret -as the goldthread, the tansy, and the loathsome "boneset;" and he laid -in for the winter, like a squirrel, stores of beech-nuts, hazel-nuts, -hickory-nuts, chestnuts, and butternuts. But that which lives most -vividly in his memory and most strongly draws him back to the New -England hills is the aromatic sweet-fern: he likes to eat its spicy -seeds, and to crush in his hands its fragrant leaves; their odor is the -unique essence of New England. - - - - -XVI - -JOHN'S REVIVAL - - -The New England country boy of the last generation never heard of -Christmas. - -There was no such day in his calendar. If John ever came across it in -his reading, he attached no meaning to the word. - -If his curiosity had been aroused, and he had asked his elders -about it, he might have got the dim impression that it was a kind -of Popish holiday, the celebration of which was about as wicked -as "card-playing," or being a "democrat." John knew a couple of -desperately bad boys who were reported to play "seven-up" in a barn, -on the hay-mow, and the enormity of this practice made him shudder. -He had once seen a pack of greasy "playing-cards," and it seemed to -him to contain the quintessence of sin. If he had desired to defy all -Divine law and outrage all human society, he felt that he could do it -by shuffling them. And he was quite right. The two bad boys enjoyed -in stealth their scandalous pastime, because they knew it was the -most wicked thing they could do. If it had been as sinless as playing -marbles, they wouldn't have cared for it. John sometimes drove past -a brown, tumble-down farm-house, whose shiftless inhabitants, it was -said, were card-playing people; and it is impossible to describe how -wicked that house appeared to John. He almost expected to see its -shingles stand on end. In the old New England, one could not in any -other way so express his contempt of all holy and orderly life as by -playing cards for amusement. - -There was no element of Christmas in John's life, any more than there -was of Easter, and probably nobody about him could have explained -Easter; and he escaped all the demoralization attending Christmas -gifts. Indeed, he never had any presents of any kind, either on his -birthday or any other day. He expected nothing that he did not earn, -or make in the way of "trade" with another boy. He was taught to work -for what he received. He even earned, as I said, the extra holidays -of the day after the "Fourth" and the day after Thanksgiving. Of the -free grace and gifts of Christmas he had no conception. The single and -melancholy association he had with it was the quaking hymn which his -grandfather used to sing in a cracked and quavering voice,— - - "While shepherds watched their flocks by night, - All seated on the ground." - -The "glory" that "shone around" at the end of it—the doleful voice -always repeating, "and glory shone around"—made John as miserable as -"Hark! from the tombs." It was all one dreary expectation of something -uncomfortable. It was, in short, "religion." You'd got to have it -some time; that John believed. But it lay in his unthinking mind to -put off the "Hark! from the tombs" enjoyment as long as possible. He -experienced a kind of delightful wickedness in indulging his dislike of -hymns and of Sunday. - -[Illustration: LOOKING FOR FROGS] - -John was not a model boy, but I cannot exactly define in what his -wickedness consisted. He had no inclination to steal, nor much to lie; -and he despised "meanness" and stinginess, and had a chivalrous feeling -toward little girls. Probably it never occurred to him that there was -any virtue in not stealing and lying, for honesty and veracity were -in the atmosphere about him. He hated work, and he "got mad" easily; -but he did work, and he was always ashamed when he was over his fit of -passion. In short, you couldn't find a much better wicked boy than John. - -When the "revival" came, therefore, one summer, John was in a quandary. -Sunday meeting and Sunday school he didn't mind; they were a part of -regular life, and only temporarily interrupted a boy's pleasures. But -when there began to be evening meetings at the different houses, a -new element came into affairs. There was a kind of solemnity over the -community, and a seriousness in all faces. At first these twilight -assemblies offered a little relief to the monotony of farm-life; and -John liked to meet the boys and girls, and to watch the older people -coming in, dressed in their second best. I think John's imagination -was worked upon by the sweet and mournful hymns that were discordantly -sung in the stiff old parlors. There was a suggestion of Sunday, and -sanctity too, in the odor of caraway-seed that pervaded the room. The -windows were wide open also, and the scent of June roses came in with -all the languishing sounds of a summer night. All the little boys had a -scared look, but the little girls were never so pretty and demure as in -this their susceptible seriousness. If John saw a boy who did not come -to the evening meeting, but was wandering off with his sling down the -meadow, looking for frogs, maybe, that boy seemed to him a monster of -wickedness. - -After a time, as the meetings continued, John fell also under the -general impression of fright and seriousness. All the talk was -of "getting religion," and he heard over and over again that the -probability was, if he did not get it now he never would. The chance -did not come often, and, if this offer was not improved, John would -be given over to hardness of heart. His obstinacy would show that he -was not one of the elect. John fancied that he could feel his heart -hardening, and he began to look with a wistful anxiety into the faces -of the Christians to see what were the visible signs of being one of -the elect. John put on a good deal of a manner that he "didn't care," -and he never admitted his disquiet by asking any questions or standing -up in meeting to be prayed for. But he did care. He heard all the time -that all he had to do was to repent and believe. But there was nothing -that he doubted, and he was perfectly willing to repent if he could -think of anything to repent of. - -It was essential, he learned, that he should have a "conviction of -sin." This he earnestly tried to have. Other people, no better than -he, had it, and he wondered why he couldn't have it. Boys and girls -whom he knew were "under conviction," and John began to feel not only -panicky but lonesome. Cynthia Rudd had been anxious for days and days, -and not able to sleep at night, but now she had given herself up and -found peace. There was a kind of radiance in her face that struck John -with awe, and he felt that now there was a great gulf between him and -Cynthia. Everybody was going away from him, and his heart was getting -harder than ever. He couldn't feel wicked, all he could do. And there -was Ed Bates, his intimate friend, though older than he, a "whaling," -noisy kind of boy, who was under conviction and sure he was going to be -lost. How John envied him! And, pretty soon, Ed "experienced religion." -John anxiously watched the change in Ed's face when he became one of -the elect. And a change there was. And John wondered about another -thing. Ed Bates used to go trout-fishing, with a tremendously long -pole, in a meadow-brook near the river; and when the trout didn't bite -right off Ed would "get mad," and as soon as one took hold he would -give an awful jerk, sending the fish more than three hundred feet into -the air and landing it in the bushes the other side of the meadow, -crying out, "Gul darn ye, I'll learn ye." And John wondered if Ed -would take the little trout out any more gently now. - -[Illustration: TROUT FISHING] - -John felt more and more lonesome as one after another of his playmates -came out and made a profession. Cynthia (she too was older than John) -sat on Sunday in the singers' seat; her voice, which was going to be a -contralto, had a wonderful pathos in it for him, and he heard it with -a heartache. "There she is," thought John, "singing away like an angel -in heaven, and I am left out." During all his after life a contralto -voice was to John one of his most bitter and heart-wringing pleasures. -It suggested the immaculate scornful, the melancholy unattainable. - -If ever a boy honestly tried to work himself into a conviction of sin, -John tried. And what made him miserable was that he couldn't feel -miserable when everybody else was miserable. He even began to pretend -to be so. He put on a serious and anxious look like the others. He -pretended he didn't care for play; he refrained from chasing chipmunks -and snaring suckers; the songs of birds and the bright vivacity of -the summer time that used to make him turn hand-springs smote him as a -discordant levity. He was not a hypocrite at all, and he was getting -to be alarmed that he was not alarmed at himself. Every day and night -he heard that the spirit of the Lord would probably soon quit striving -with him, and leave him out. The phrase was that he would "grieve -away the Holy Spirit." John wondered if he was not doing it. He did -everything to put himself in the way of conviction, was constant at the -evening meetings, wore a grave face, refrained from play, and tried to -feel anxious. At length he concluded that he must do something. - -One night as he walked home from a solemn meeting, at which several of -his little playmates had "come forward," he felt that he could force -the crisis. He was alone on the sandy road: it was an enchanting summer -night; the stars danced overhead, and by his side the broad and shallow -river ran over its stony bed with a loud but soothing murmur that -filled all the air with entreaty, John did not then know that it sang, -"But I go on forever," yet there was in it for him something of the -solemn flow of the eternal world. When he came in sight of the house, -he knelt down in the dust by a pile of rails and prayed. He prayed -that he might feel bad, and be distressed about himself. As he prayed -he heard distinctly, and yet not as a disturbance, the multitudinous -croaking of the frogs by the meadow-spring. It was not discordant with -his thoughts; it had in it a melancholy pathos, as if it were a kind of -call to the unconverted. What is there in this sound that suggests the -tenderness of spring, the despair of a summer night, the desolateness -of young love? Years after it happened to John to be at twilight at -a railway station on the edge of the Ravenna marshes. A little way -over the purple plain he saw the darkening towers and heard "the -sweet bells of Imola." The Holy Pontiff Pius IX. was born at Imola, -and passed his boyhood in that serene and moist region. As the train -waited, John heard from miles of marshes round about the evening song -of millions of frogs, louder and more melancholy and entreating than -the vesper call of the bells. And instantly his mind went back—for the -association of sound is as subtle as that of odor—to the prayer, years -ago, by the roadside and the plaintive appeal of the unheeded frogs, -and he wondered if the little Pope had not heard the like importunity, -and perhaps, when he thought of himself as a little Pope, associated -his conversion with this plaintive sound. - -John prayed, but without feeling any worse, and then went desperately -into the house and told the family that he was in an anxious state of -mind. This was joyful news to the sweet and pious household, and the -little boy was urged to feel that he was a sinner, to repent, and to -become that night a Christian; he was prayed over, and told to read -the Bible, and put to bed with the injunction to repeat all the texts -of Scripture and hymns he could think of. John did this, and said -over and over the few texts he was master of, and tossed about in a -real discontent now, for he had a dim notion that he was playing the -hypocrite a little. But he was sincere enough in wanting to feel, as -the other boys and girls felt, that he was a wicked sinner. He tried to -think of his evil deeds; and one occurred to him, indeed, it often came -to his mind. It was a lie,—a deliberate, awful lie, that never injured -anybody but himself. John knew he was not wicked enough to tell a lie -to injure anybody else. - -This was the lie. One afternoon at school, just before John's class -was to recite in geography, his pretty cousin, a young lady he held -in great love and respect, came in to visit the school. John was a -favorite with her, and she had come to hear him recite. As it happened, -John felt shaky in the geographical lesson of that day, and he feared -to be humiliated in the presence of his cousin; he felt embarrassed to -that degree that he couldn't have "bounded" Massachusetts. So he stood -up and raised his hand, and said to the schoolma'am, "Please, ma'am, -I've got the stomach-ache; may I go home?" And John's character for -truthfulness was so high (and even this was ever a reproach to him) -that his word was instantly believed, and he was dismissed without -any medical examination. For a moment John was delighted to get out -of school so early; but soon his guilt took all the light out of the -summer sky and the pleasantness out of nature. He had to walk slowly, -without a single hop or jump, as became a diseased boy. The sight of a -woodchuck at a distance from his well-known hole tempted John, but he -restrained himself, lest somebody should see him, and know that chasing -a woodchuck was inconsistent with the stomach-ache. He was acting a -miserable part, but it had to be gone through with. He went home and -told his mother the reason he had left school, but he added that he -felt "some" better now. The "some" didn't save him. Genuine sympathy -was lavished on him. He had to swallow a stiff dose of nasty "picra," -the horror of all childhood, and he was put in bed immediately. The -world never looked so pleasant to John, but to bed he was forced to -go. He was excused from all chores; he was not even to go after the -cows. John said he thought he ought to go after the cows,—much as -he hated the business usually, he would now willingly have wandered -over the world after cows,—and for this heroic offer, in the condition -he was, he got credit for a desire to do his duty; and this unjust -confidence in him added to his torture. And he had intended to set his -hooks that night for eels. His cousin came home, and sat by his bedside -and condoled with him; his schoolma'am had sent word how sorry she was -for him, John was such a good boy. All this was dreadful. He groaned -in agony. Besides, he was not to have any supper; it would be very -dangerous to eat a morsel. The prospect was appalling. Never was there -such a long twilight; never before did he hear so many sounds outdoors -that he wanted to investigate. Being ill without any illness was a -horrible condition. And he began to have real stomach-ache now; and it -ached because it was empty. John was hungry enough to have eaten the -New England Primer. But by and by sleep came, and John forgot his woes -in dreaming that he knew where Madagascar was just as easy as anything. - -[Illustration: FORCED TO GO TO BED] - -It was this lie that came back to John the night he was trying to -be affected by the revival. And he was very much ashamed of it, and -believed he would never tell another. But then he fell thinking whether -with the "picra," and the going to bed in the afternoon, and the loss -of his supper, he had not been sufficiently paid for it. And in this -unhopeful frame of mind he dropped off in sleep. - -And the truth must be told, that in the morning John was no nearer to -realizing the terrors he desired to feel. But he was a conscientious -boy, and would do nothing to interfere with the influences of the -season. He not only put himself away from them all, but he refrained -from doing almost everything that he wanted to do. There came at that -time a newspaper, a secular newspaper, which had in it a long account -of the Long Island races, in which the famous horse "Lexington" was a -runner. John was fond of horses, he knew about Lexington, and he had -looked forward to the result of this race with keen interest. But -to read the account of it now he felt might destroy his seriousness -of mind, and—in all reverence and simplicity he felt it—be a means -of "grieving away the Holy Spirit." He therefore hid away the paper -in a table drawer, intending to read it when the revival should be -over. Weeks after, when he looked for the newspaper, it was not to be -found, and John never knew what "time" Lexington made, nor anything -about the race. This was to him a serious loss, but by no means so -deep as another feeling that remained with him; for when his little -world returned to its ordinary course, and long after, John had an -uneasy apprehension of his own separateness from other people in his -insensibility to the revival. Perhaps the experience was a damage to -him; and it is a pity that there was no one to explain that religion -for a little fellow like him is not a "scheme." - - - - -XVII - -WAR - - -Every boy who is good for anything is a natural savage. The scientists -who want to study the primitive man, and have so much difficulty in -finding one anywhere in this sophisticated age, couldn't do better than -to devote their attention to the common country boy. He has the primal, -vigorous instincts and impulses of the African savage, without any of -the vices inherited from a civilization long ago decayed, or developed -in an unrestrained barbaric society. You want to catch your boy young, -and study him before he has either virtues or vices, in order to -understand the primitive man. - -Every New England boy desires (or did desire a generation ago, before -children were born sophisticated, with a large library, and with the -word "culture" written on their brows) to live by hunting, fishing, -and war. The military instinct, which is the special mark of barbarism, -is strong in him. It arises not alone from his love of fighting, for -the boy is naturally as cowardly as the savage, but from his fondness -for display,—the same that a corporal or a general feels in decking -himself in tinsel and tawdry colors and strutting about in view of the -female sex. Half the pleasure in going out to murder another man with -a gun would be wanting if one did not wear feathers and gold lace and -stripes on his pantaloons. The law also takes this view of it, and will -not permit men to shoot each other in plain clothes. And the world also -makes some curious distinctions in the art of killing. To kill people -with arrows is barbarous; to kill them with smooth-bores and flintlock -muskets is semi-civilized; to kill them with breech-loading rifles is -civilized. That nation is the most civilized which has the appliances -to kill the most of another nation in the shortest time. This is the -result of six thousand years of constant civilization. By and by, when -the nations cease to be boys, perhaps they will not want to kill each -other at all. Some people think the world is very old; but here is an -evidence that it is very young, and, in fact, has scarcely yet begun to -be a world. When the volcanoes have done spouting, and the earthquakes -are quaked out, and you can tell what land is going to be solid and -keep its level twenty-four hours, and the swamps are filled up, and the -deltas of the great rivers, like the Mississippi and the Nile, become -_terra firma_, and men stop killing their fellows in order to get -their land and other property, then perhaps there will be a world that -an angel wouldn't weep over. Now one half the world are employed in -getting ready to kill the other half, some of them by marching about in -uniform, and the others by hard work to earn money to pay taxes to buy -uniforms and guns. - -John was not naturally very cruel, and it was probably the love of -display quite as much as of fighting that led him into a military -life; for he in common with all his comrades had other traits of the -savage. One of them was the same passion for ornament that induces -the African to wear anklets and bracelets of hide and of metal, and to -decorate himself with tufts of hair, and to tattoo his body. In John's -day there was a rage at school among the boys for wearing bracelets -woven of the hair of the little girls. Some of them were wonderful -specimens of braiding and twist. These were not captured in war, but -were sentimental tokens of friendship given by the young maidens -themselves. John's own hair was kept so short (as became a warrior) -that you couldn't have made a bracelet out of it, or anything except -a paint-brush; but the little girls were not under military law, and -they willingly sacrificed their tresses to decorate the soldiers they -esteemed. As the Indian is honored in proportion to the scalps he can -display, the boy at John's school was held in highest respect who could -show the most hair trophies on his wrist. John himself had a variety -that would have pleased a Mohawk, fine and coarse and of all colors. -There were the flaxen, the faded straw, the glossy black, the lustrous -brown, the dirty yellow, the undecided auburn, and the fiery red. -Perhaps his pulse beat more quickly under the red hair of Cynthia Rudd -than on account of all the other wristlets put together; it was a sort -of gold-tried-in-the-fire color to John, and burned there with a steady -flame. Now that Cynthia had become a Christian, this band of hair -seemed a more sacred if less glowing possession (for all detached hair -will fade in time), and if he had known anything about saints he would -have imagined that it was a part of the aureole that always goes with -a saint. But I am bound to say that, while John had a tender feeling -for this red string, his sentiment was not that of the man who becomes -entangled in the meshes of a woman's hair; and he valued rather the -number than the quality of these elastic wristlets. - -John burned with as real a military ardor as ever inflamed the -breast of any slaughterer of his fellows. He liked to read of war, -of encounters with the Indians, of any kind of wholesale killing in -glittering uniform, to the noise of the terribly exciting fife and -drum, which maddened the combatants and drowned the cries of the -wounded. In his future he saw himself a soldier with plume and sword -and snug-fitting, decorated clothes,—very different from his somewhat -roomy trousers and country-cut roundabout, made by Aunt Ellis, the -village tailoress, who cut out clothes, not according to the shape of -the boy, but to what he was expected to grow to,—going where glory -awaited him. In his observation of pictures, it was the common soldier -who was always falling and dying, while the officer stood unharmed in -the storm of bullets and waved his sword in a heroic attitude. John -determined to be an officer. - -It is needless to say that he was an ardent member of the military -company of his village. He had risen from the grade of corporal to that -of first lieutenant; the captain was a boy whose father was captain -of the grown militia company, and consequently had inherited military -aptness and knowledge. The old captain was a flaming son of Mars, whose -nose militia war, general training, and New England rum had painted -with the color of glory and disaster. He was one of the gallant old -soldiers of the peaceful days of our country, splendid in uniform, a -martinet in drill, terrible in oaths, a glorious object when he marched -at the head of his company of flintlock muskets, with the American -banner full high advanced, and the clamorous drum defying the world. -In this he fulfilled his duties of citizen, faithfully teaching his -uniformed companions how to march by the left leg, and to get reeling -drunk by sundown; otherwise he didn't amount to much in the community; -his house was unpainted, his fences were tumbled down, his farm was a -waste, his wife wore an old gown to meeting, to which the captain never -went; but he was a good trout-fisher, and there was no man in town who -spent more time at the country store and made more shrewd observations -upon the affairs of his neighbors. Although he had never been in an -asylum any more than he had been in war, he was almost as perfect a -drunkard as he was soldier. He hated the British, whom he had never -seen, as much as he loved rum, from which he was never separated. - -The company which his son commanded, wearing his father's belt and -sword, was about as effective as the old company, and more orderly. -It contained from thirty to fifty boys, according to the pressure of -"chores" at home, and it had its great days of parade and its autumn -manoeuvres, like the general training. It was an artillery company, -which gave every boy a chance to wear a sword; and it possessed a small -mounted cannon, which was dragged about and limbered and unlimbered -and fired, to the imminent danger of everybody, especially of the -company. In point of marching, with all the legs going together, and -twisting itself up and untwisting, breaking into single-file (for -Indian fighting) and forming platoons, turning a sharp corner, and -getting out of the way of a wagon, circling the town pump, frightening -horses, stopping short in front of the tavern, with ranks dressed and -eyes right and left, it was the equal of any military organization -I ever saw. It could train better than the big company, and I think -it did more good in keeping alive the spirit of patriotism and desire -to fight. Its discipline was strict. If a boy left the ranks to jab a -spectator, or make faces at a window, or "go for" a striped snake, he -was "hollered" at no end. - -It was altogether a very serious business; there was no levity about -the hot and hard marching, and as boys have no humor nothing ludicrous -occurred. John was very proud of his office, and of his ability to -keep the rear ranks closed up and ready to execute any manoeuvre when -the captain "hollered," which he did continually. He carried a real -sword, which his grandfather had worn in many a militia campaign on -the village green, the rust upon which John fancied was Indian blood; -he had various red and yellow insignia of military rank sewed upon -different parts of his clothes, and though his cocked hat was of -pasteboard, it was decorated with gilding and bright rosettes, and -floated a red feather that made his heart beat with martial fury -whenever he looked at it. The effect of this uniform upon the girls was -not a matter of conjecture. I think they really cared nothing about -it, but they pretended to think it fine, and they fed the poor boys' -vanity,—the weakness by which women govern the world. - -The exalted happiness of John in this military service I dare say was -never equalled in any subsequent occupation. The display of the company -in the village filled him with the loftiest heroism. There was nothing -wanting but an enemy to fight, but this could only be had by half the -company staining themselves with elderberry juice and going into the -woods as Indians, to fight the artillery from behind trees with bows -and arrows, or to ambush it and tomahawk the gunners. This, however, -was made to seem very like real war. Traditions of Indian cruelty -were still fresh in Western Massachusetts. Behind John's house in the -orchard were some old slate tombstones, sunken and leaning, which -recorded the names of Captain Moses Rice and Phineas Arms, who had been -killed by Indians in the last century while at work in the meadow by -the river, and who slept there in the hope of a glorious resurrection. -Phineas Arms—martial name—was long since dust; and even the mortal -part of the great Captain Moses Rice had been absorbed in the soil, -and passed perhaps with the sap up into the old but still blooming -apple-trees. It was a quiet place where they lay, but they might have -heard—if hear they could—the loud, continuous roar of the Deerfield, -and the stirring of the long grass on that sunny slope. There was a -tradition that years ago an Indian, probably the last of his race, had -been seen moving along the crest of the mountain, and gazing down into -the lovely valley which had been the favorite home of his tribe, upon -the fields where he grew his corn and the sparkling stream whence he -drew his fish. John used to fancy at times, as he sat there, that he -could see that red spectre gliding among the trees on the hill; and -if the tombstone suggested to him the trump of judgment, he could not -separate it from the war-whoop that had been the last sound in the ear -of Phineas Arms. The Indian always preceded murder by the war-whoop; -and this was an advantage that the artillery had in the fight with the -elderberry Indians. It was warned in time. If there was no war-whoop, -the killing didn't count; the artilleryman got up and killed the -Indian. The Indian usually had the worst of it; he not only got killed -by the regulars, but he got whipped by the home-guard at night for -staining himself and his clothes with the elderberry. - -But once a year the company had a superlative parade. This was when -the military company from the north part of the town joined the -villagers in a general muster. This was an infantry company, and not -to be compared with that of the village in point of evolutions. There -was a great and natural hatred between the north town boys and the -centre. I don't know why, but no contiguous African tribes could be -more hostile. It was all right for one of either section to "lick" the -other if he could, or for half a dozen to "lick" one of the enemy if -they caught him alone. The notion of honor, as of mercy, comes into -the boy only when he is pretty well grown; to some, neither ever comes. -And yet there was an artificial military courtesy (something like that -existing in the feudal age, no doubt) which put the meeting of these -two rival and mutually detested companies on a high plane of behavior. -It was beautiful to see the seriousness of this lofty and studied -condescension on both sides. For the time, everything was under martial -law. The village company being the senior, its captain commanded the -united battalion in the march, and this put John temporarily into the -position of captain, with the right to march at the head and "holler;" -a responsibility which realized all his hopes of glory. - -I suppose there has yet been discovered by man no gratification like -that of marching at the head of a column in uniform on parade,—unless -perhaps it is marching at their head when they are leaving a field of -battle. John experienced all the thrill of this conspicuous authority, -and I dare say that nothing in his later life has so exalted him -in his own esteem; certainly nothing has since happened that was so -important as the events of that parade day seemed. He satiated himself -with all the delights of war. - - - - -XVIII - -COUNTRY SCENES - - -It is impossible to say at what age a New England country boy becomes -conscious that his trousers-legs are too short, and is anxious about -the part of his hair and the fit of his woman-made roundabout. These -harrowing thoughts come to him later than to the city lad. At least, a -generation ago he served a long apprenticeship with nature only for a -master, absolutely unconscious of the artificialities of life. - -But I do not think his early education was neglected. And yet it is -easy to underestimate the influences that, unconsciously to him, were -expanding his mind and nursing in him heroic purposes. There was the -lovely but narrow valley, with its rapid mountain stream; there were -the great hills which he climbed only to see other hills stretching -away to a broken and tempting horizon; there were the rocky pastures, -and the wide sweeps of forest through which the winter tempests -howled, upon which hung the haze of summer heat, over which the great -shadows of summer clouds traveled; there were the clouds themselves, -shouldering up above the peaks, hurrying across the narrow sky,—the -clouds out of which the wind came, and the lightning and the sudden -dashes of rain; and there were days when the sky was ineffably blue and -distant, a fathomless vault of heaven where the hen-hawk and the eagle -poised on outstretched wings and watched for their prey. Can you say -how these things fed the imagination of the boy, who had few books and -no contact with the great world? Do you think any city lad could have -written "Thanatopsis" at eighteen? - -[Illustration: SLIPPERY WORK] - -If you had seen John, in his short and roomy trousers and ill-used -straw hat, picking his barefooted way over the rocks along the -river-bank of a cool morning to see if an eel had "got on," you -would not have fancied that he lived in an ideal world. Nor did -he consciously. So far as he knew, he had no more sentiment than a -jack-knife. Although he loved Cynthia Rudd devotedly, and blushed -scarlet one day when his cousin found a lock of Cynthia's flaming hair -in the box where John kept his fish-hooks, spruce gum, flag-root, -tickets of standing at the head, gimlet, billets-doux in blue ink, -a vile liquid in a bottle to make fish bite, and other precious -possessions, yet Cynthia's society had no attractions for him -comparable to a day's trout-fishing. She was, after all, only a single -and a very undefined item in his general ideal world, and there was -no harm in letting his imagination play about her illumined head. -Since Cynthia had "got religion" and John had got nothing, his love -was tempered with a little awe and a feeling of distance. He was not -fickle, and yet I cannot say that he was not ready to construct a new -romance in which Cynthia should be eliminated. Nothing was easier. -Perhaps it was a luxurious traveling-carriage, drawn by two splendid -horses in plated harness, driven along the sandy road. There were a -gentleman and a young lad on the front seat, and on the back seat a -handsome, pale lady with a little girl beside her. Behind, on the rack -with the trunk, was a colored boy, an imp out of a story-book. John was -told that the black boy was a slave, and that the carriage was from -Baltimore. Here was a chance for a romance. Slavery, beauty, wealth, -haughtiness, especially on the part of the slender boy on the front -seat,—here was an opening into a vast realm. The high-stepping horses -and the shining harness were enough to excite John's admiration, but -these were nothing to the little girl. His eyes had never before fallen -upon that kind of girl; he had hardly imagined that such a lovely -creature could exist. Was it the soft and dainty toilet, was it the -brown curls, or the large laughing eyes, or the delicate, finely cut -features, or the charming little figure of this fairy-like person? Was -this expression on her mobile face merely that of amusement at seeing a -country boy? Then John hated her. On the contrary, did she see in him -what John felt himself to be? Then he would go the world over to serve -her. In a moment he was self-conscious. His trousers seemed to creep -higher up his legs, and he could feel his very ankles blush. He hoped -that she had not seen the other side of him, for in fact the patches -were not of the exact shade of the rest of the cloth. The vision -flashed by him in a moment, but it left him with a resentful feeling. -Perhaps that proud little girl would be sorry some day, when he had -become a general, or written a book, or kept a store, to see him go -away and marry another. He almost made up his cruel mind on the instant -that he would never marry her, however bad she might feel. And yet he -couldn't get her out of his mind for days and days, and when her image -was present even Cynthia in the singers' seat on Sunday looked a little -cheap and common. Poor Cynthia! Long before John became a general, or -had his revenge on the Baltimore girl, she married a farmer and was the -mother of children, red-headed; and when John saw her years after, she -looked tired and discouraged, as one who has carried into womanhood -none of the romance of her youth. - -[Illustration: RIGGING UP THE FISHING TACKLE] - -Fishing and dreaming, I think, were the best amusements John had. The -middle pier of the long covered bridge over the river stood upon a -great rock, and this rock (which was known as the swimming-rock, whence -the boys on summer evenings dived into the deep pool by its side) was -a favorite spot with John when he could get an hour or two from the -everlasting "chores." Making his way out to it over the rocks at low -water with his fish-pole, there he was content to sit and observe the -world; and there he saw a great deal of life. He always expected to -catch the legendary trout which weighed two pounds and was believed to -inhabit that pool. He always did catch horned dace and shiners, which -he despised, and sometimes he snared a monstrous sucker a foot and a -half long. But in the summer the sucker is a flabby fish, and John was -not thanked for bringing him home. He liked, however, to lie with his -face close to the water and watch the long fishes panting in the clear -depths, and occasionally he would drop a pebble near one to see how -gracefully he would scud away with one wave of the tail into deeper -water. Nothing fears the little brown boy. The yellow-bird slants his -wings, almost touches the deep water before him, and then escapes away -under the bridge to the east with a glint of sunshine on his back; the -fish-hawk comes down with a swoop, dips one wing, and, his prey having -darted under a stone, is away again over the still hill, high soaring -on even-poised pinions, keeping an eye perhaps upon the great eagle -which is sweeping the sky in widening circles. - -[Illustration: WATCHING THE FISHES] - -But there is other life. A wagon rumbles over the bridge, and the -farmer and his wife, jogging along, do not know that they have startled -a lazy boy into a momentary fancy that a thunder-shower is coming up. -John can see, as he lies there on a still summer day with the fishes -and the birds for company, the road that comes down the left bank of -the river, a hot, sandy, well-traveled road, hidden from view here and -there by trees and bushes. The chief point of interest, however, is -an enormous sycamore-tree by the roadside and in front of John's house. -The house is more than a century old, and its timbers were hewed and -squared by Captain Moses Rice (who lies in his grave on the hillside -above it), in the presence of the Red Man who killed him with arrow -and tomahawk some time after his house was set in order. The gigantic -tree, struck with a sort of leprosy, like all its species, appears -much older, and of course has its tradition. They say it grew from a -green stake which the first land-surveyor planted there for one of -his points of sight. John was reminded of it years after when he sat -under the shade of the decrepit lime-tree in Freiberg and was told that -it was originally a twig which the breathless and bloody messenger -carried in his hand when he dropped exhausted in the square with the -word "Victory!" on his lips, announcing thus the result of the glorious -battle of Morat, where the Swiss in 1476 defeated Charles the Bold. -Under the broad but scanty shade of the great button-ball tree (as -it was called) stood an old watering-trough, with its half-decayed -penstock and well-worn spout pouring forever cold sparkling water into -the overflowing trough. It is fed by a spring near by, and the water -is sweeter and colder than any in the known world, unless it be the -well Zem-Zem, as generations of people and horses which have drunk of -it would testify if they could come back. And if they could file along -this road again, what a procession there would be riding down the -valley!—antiquated vehicles, rusty wagons adorned with the invariable -buffalo-robe even in the hottest days, lean and long-favored horses, -frisky colts, drawing generation after generation the sober and pious -saints that passed this way to meeting and to mill. - -What a refreshment is that water-spout! All day long there are pilgrims -to it, and John likes nothing better than to watch them. Here comes a -gray horse drawing a buggy with two men,—cattle-buyers probably. Out -jumps a man, down goes the check-rein. What a good draught the nag -takes! Here comes a long-stepping trotter in a sulky; man in a brown -linen coat and wide-awake hat,—dissolute, horsey-looking man. They -turn up, of course. Ah! there is an establishment he knows well; a -sorrel horse and an old chaise. The sorrel horse scents the water afar -off, and begins to turn up long before he reaches the trough, thrusting -out his nose in anticipation of the cool sensation. No check to let -down; he plunges his nose in nearly to his eyes in his haste to get at -it. Two maiden ladies—unmistakably such, though they appear neither -"anxious nor aimless"—within the scoop-top smile benevolently on the -sorrel back. It is the deacon's horse, a meeting-going nag, with a -sedate, leisurely jog as he goes; and these are two of the "salt of the -earth,"—the brevet rank of the women who stand and wait,—going down -to the village store to dicker. There come two men in a hurry, horse -driven up smartly and pulled up short; but as it is rising ground, and -the horse does not easily reach the water with the wagon pulling back, -the nervous man in the buggy hitches forward on his seat, as if that -would carry the wagon a little ahead! Next, lumber-wagon with load -of boards; horse wants to turn up, and driver switches him and cries -"G'lang," and the horse reluctantly goes by, turning his head wistfully -towards the flowing spout. Ah! here comes an equipage strange to these -parts, and John stands up to look: an elegant carriage and two horses; -trunks strapped on behind; gentleman and boy on front seat and two -ladies on back seat,—city people. The gentleman descends, unchecks the -horses, wipes his brow, takes a drink at the spout and looks around, -evidently remarking upon the lovely view, as he swings his handkerchief -in an explanatory manner. Judicious travelers! John would like to -know who they are. Perhaps they are from Boston, whence come all the -wonderfully painted peddlers' wagons drawn by six stalwart horses, -which the driver, using no rein, controls with his long whip and cheery -voice. If so, great is the condescension of Boston; and John follows -them with an undefined longing as they drive away toward the mountains -of Zoar. Here is a footman, dusty and tired, who comes with lagging -steps. He stops, removes his hat, as he should to such a tree, puts his -mouth to the spout, and takes a long pull at the lively water. And then -he goes on, perhaps to Zoar, perhaps to a worse place. - -So they come and go all the summer afternoon; but the great event of -the day is the passing down the valley of the majestic stage-coach, -the vast yellow-bodied, rattling vehicle. John can hear a mile off the -shaking of chains, traces, and whiffletrees, and the creaking of its -leathern braces, as the great bulk swings along piled high with trunks. -It represents to John, somehow, authority, government, the right of -way; the driver is an autocrat,—everybody must make way for the -stage-coach. It almost satisfies the imagination, this royal vehicle; -one can go in it to the confines of the world,—to Boston and to Albany. - -There were other influences that I dare say contributed to the boy's -education. I think his imagination was stimulated by a band of gypsies -who used to come every summer and pitch a tent on a little roadside -patch of green turf by the river-bank, not far from his house. It was -shaded by elms and butternut-trees, and a long spit of sand and pebbles -ran out from it into the brawling stream. Probably they were not a very -good kind of gypsy, although the story was that the men drank and beat -the women. John didn't know much about drinking; his experience of it -was confined to sweet cider; yet he had already set himself up as a -reformer, and joined the Cold Water Band. The object of this Band was -to walk in a procession under a banner that declared,— - - "So here we pledge perpetual hate - To all that can intoxicate;" - -and wear a badge with this legend, and above it the device of a -well-curb with a long sweep. It kept John and all the little boys and -girls from being drunkards till they were ten or eleven years of age; -though perhaps a few of them died meantime from eating loaf-cake and -pie and drinking ice-cold water at the celebrations of the Band. - -The gypsy camp had a strange fascination for John, mingled of -curiosity and fear. Nothing more alien could come into the New England -life than this tatterdemalion band. It was hardly credible that here -were actually people who lived outdoors, who slept in their covered -wagon or under their tent, and cooked in the open air; it was a visible -romance transferred from foreign lands and the remote times of the -story-books; and John took these city thieves, who were on their -annual foray into the country, trading and stealing horses and robbing -hen-roosts and cornfields, for the mysterious race who for thousands -of years have done these same things in all lands, by right of their -pure blood and ancient lineage. John was afraid to approach the camp -when any of the scowling and villanous men were lounging about, pipes -in mouth; but he took more courage when only women and children were -visible. The swarthy, black-haired women in dirty calico frocks were -anything but attractive, but they spoke softly to the boy, and told his -fortune, and wheedled him into bringing them any amount of cucumbers -and green corn in the course of the season. In front of the tent were -planted in the ground three poles that met together at the top, whence -depended a kettle. This was the kitchen, and it was sufficient. The -fuel for the fire was the driftwood of the stream. John noted that it -did not require to be sawed into stove-lengths; and, in short, that -the "chores" about this establishment were reduced to the minimum. And -an older person than John might envy the free life of these wanderers, -who paid neither rent nor taxes, and yet enjoyed all the delights of -nature. It seemed to the boy that affairs would go more smoothly in the -world if everybody would live in this simple manner. Nor did he then -know, or ever after find out, why it is that the world only permits -wicked people to be Bohemians. - -[Illustration: ENTERING THE OLD BRIDGE] - - - - -XIX - -A CONTRAST TO THE NEW ENGLAND BOY - - -One evening at vespers in Genoa, attracted by a burst of music from -the swinging curtain of the doorway, I entered a little church much -frequented by the common people. An unexpected and exceedingly pretty -sight rewarded me. - -It was All-Souls' Day. In Italy almost every day is set apart for some -festival, or belongs to some saint or another; and I suppose that when -leap-year brings around the extra day, there is a saint ready to claim -the 29th of February. Whatever the day was to the elders, the evening -was devoted to the children. The first thing I noticed was, that the -quaint old church was lighted up with innumerable wax-tapers,—an -uncommon sight, for the darkness of a Catholic church in the evening -is usually relieved only by a candle here and there, and by a blazing -pyramid of them on the high altar. The use of gas is held to be a -vulgar thing all over Europe, and especially unfit for a church or an -aristocratic palace. - -Then I saw that each taper belonged to a little boy or girl, and the -groups of children were scattered all about the church. There was a -group by every side altar and chapel, all the benches were occupied by -knots of them, and there were so many circles of them seated on the -pavement that I could with difficulty make my way among them. There -were hundreds of children in the church, all dressed in their holiday -apparel, and all intent upon the illumination, which seemed to be a -private affair to each one of them. - -[Illustration: THE OLD WATERING TROUGH] - -And not much effect had their tapers upon the darkness of the vast -vaults above them. The tapers were little spiral coils of wax, which -the children unrolled as fast as they burned, and when they were tired -of holding them they rested them on the ground and watched the burning. -I stood some time by a group of a dozen seated in a corner of the -church. They had massed all the tapers in the centre and formed a -ring about the spectacle, sitting with their legs straight out before -them and their toes turned up. The light shone full in their happy -faces, and made the group, enveloped otherwise in darkness, like one -of Correggio's pictures of children or angels. Correggio was a famous -Italian artist of the sixteenth century, who painted cherubs like -children who were just going to heaven, and children like cherubs who -had just come out of it. But then, he had the Italian children for -models, and they get the knack of being lovely very young. An Italian -child finds it as easy to be pretty as an American child to be good. - -One could not but be struck with the patience these little people -exhibited in their occupation, and the enjoyment they got out of it. -There was no noise; all conversed in subdued whispers and behaved in -the most gentle manner to each other, especially to the smallest, and -there were many of them so small that they could only toddle about by -the most judicious exercise of their equilibrium. I do not say this by -way of reproof to any other kind of children. - -These little groups, as I have said, were scattered all about the -church; and they made with their tapers little spots of light, which -looked in the distance very much like Correggio's picture which is at -Dresden,—the Holy Family at Night, and the light from the Divine Child -blazing in the faces of all the attendants. Some of the children were -infants in the nurse's arms, but no one was too small to have a taper, -and to run the risk of burning its fingers. - -There is nothing that a baby likes more than a lighted candle, and the -church has understood this longing in human nature, and found means to -gratify it by this festival of tapers. - -The groups do not all remain long in place, you may imagine; there is a -good deal of shifting about, and I see little stragglers wandering over -the church, like fairies lighted by fire-flies. Occasionally they form -a little procession and march from one altar to another, the lights -twinkling as they go. - -But all this time there is music pouring out of the organ-loft at the -end of the church, and flooding all its spaces with its volume. In -front of the organ is a choir of boys, led by a round-faced and jolly -monk, who rolls about as he sings, and lets the deep bass noise rumble -about a long time in his stomach before he pours it out of his mouth. -I can see the faces of all of them quite well, for each singer has a -candle to light his music-book. - -And next to the monk stands the boy,—the handsomest boy in the whole -world probably at this moment. I can see now his great, liquid, dark -eyes and his exquisite face, and the way he tossed back his long waving -hair when he struck into his part. He resembled the portraits of -Raphael, when that artist was a boy; only I think he looked better than -Raphael, and without trying, for he seemed to be a spontaneous sort of -boy. And how that boy did sing! He was the soprano of the choir, and he -had a voice of heavenly sweetness. When he opened his mouth and tossed -back his head, he filled the church with exquisite melody. - -He sang like a lark, or like an angel. As we never heard an angel sing, -that comparison is not worth much. I have seen pictures of angels -singing,—there is one by Jan and Hubert Van Eyck in the gallery at -Berlin,—and they open their mouths like this boy, but I can't say as -much for their singing. The lark, which you very likely never heard -either,—for larks are as scarce in America as angels,—is a bird that -springs up from the meadow and begins to sing as he rises in a spiral -flight, and the higher he mounts the sweeter he sings, until you think -the notes are dropping out of heaven itself, and you hear him when he -is gone from sight, and you think you hear him long after all sound has -ceased. - -And yet this boy sang better than a lark, because he had more notes and -a greater compass and more volume, although he shook out his voice in -the same gleesome abundance. - -[Illustration: THE NEW ENGLAND BOY] - -I am sorry that I cannot add that this ravishingly beautiful boy was -a good boy. He was probably one of the most mischievous boys that was -ever in an organ-loft. All time that he was singing the vespers he -was skylarking like an imp. While he was pouring out the most divine -melody, he would take the opportunity of kicking the shins of the boy -next to him; and while he was waiting for his part he would kick out -behind at any one who was incautious enough to approach him. There -never was such a vicious boy; he kept the whole loft in a ferment. When -the monk rumbled his bass in his stomach, the boy cut up monkey-shines -that set every other boy into a laugh, or he stirred up a row that set -them all at fisticuffs. - -And yet this boy was a great favorite. The jolly monk loved him best -of all, and bore with his wildest pranks. When he was wanted to sing -his part and was skylarking in the rear, the fat monk took him by the -ear and brought him forward; and when he gave the boy's ear a twist, -the boy opened his lovely mouth and poured forth such a flood of melody -as you never heard. And he didn't mind his notes; he seemed to know -his notes by heart, and could sing and look off like a nightingale -on a bough. He knew his power, that boy; and he stepped forward to -his stand when he pleased, certain that he would be forgiven as soon -as he began to sing. And such spirit and life as he threw into the -performance, rollicking through the Vespers with a perfect abandon of -carriage, as if he could sing himself out of his skin if he liked! - -While the little angels down below were pattering about with their wax -tapers, keeping the holy fire burning, suddenly the organ stopped, the -monk shut his book with a bang, the boys blew out the candles, and I -heard them all tumbling down stairs in a gale of noise and laughter. -The beautiful boy I saw no more. - -About him plays the light of tender memory; but were he twice as -lovely, I could never think of him as having either the simple -manliness or the good fortune of the New England boy. - - - - - The Riverside Press - CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A. - ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY - H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO. - - - - - * * * * * - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES. - -1. Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. -2. Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors have been silently - corrected. -3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. -4. Some page numbers in the "List of Illustrations" have been changed as - many of the illustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph - break. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Being a Boy, by Charles Dudley Warner - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEING A BOY *** - -***** This file should be named 54604-0.txt or 54604-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/6/0/54604/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Brian Wilsden and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -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. 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