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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:30:24 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7865-8.txt b/7865-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c81d4e --- /dev/null +++ b/7865-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4045 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and +Other Stories, by Juliana Horatio Ewing + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and Other Stories + +Author: Juliana Horatio Ewing + +Release Date: May 24, 2007 [EBook #7865] +[This file was first posted in etext 05 as 8jckn10.txt on May 28, 2003 +and updated in April, 2005 ] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACKANAPES, DADDY DARWIN'S *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + +JACKANAPES + +DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOT + +AND OTHER STORIES + + +By + +JULIANA HORATIO EWING. + + +with + +Illustrations + + +By + +Randolph + +Caldecott + + + +[Illustration] + + "If I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her + favors, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a + Jackanapes, never off!" + + KING HENRY V, Act 5, Scene 2. + + + + +JACKANAPES + + +CHAPTER I. + + + Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, + Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, + The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, + The morn the marshalling in arms--the day + Battle's magnificently stern array! + The thunder clouds close o'er it, which when rent + The earth is covered thick with other clay, + Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, + Rider and horse:--friend, foe,--in one red burial blent. + + Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine: + Yet one would I select from that proud throng. + ----to thee, to thousands, of whom each + And one as all a ghastly gap did make + In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach + Forgetfuluess were mercy for their sake; + The Archangel's trump, not glory's, must awake + Those whom they thirst for. + --BYRON. + +[Illustration] + +Two Donkeys and the Geese lived on the Green, and all other residents of +any social standing lived in houses round it. The houses had no names. +Everybody's address was, "The Green," but the Postman and the people of +the place knew where each family lived. As to the rest of the world, +what has one to do with the rest of the world, when he is safe at home +on his own Goose Green? Moreover, if a stranger did come on any lawful +business, he might ask his way at the shop. + +Most of the inhabitants were long-lived, early deaths (like that of the +little Miss Jessamine) being exceptional; and most of the old people +were proud of their age, especially the sexton, who would be ninety-nine +come Martinmas, and whose father remembered a man who had carried +arrows, as a boy, for the battle of Flodden Field. The Grey Goose and +the big Miss Jessamine were the only elderly persons who kept their ages +secret. Indeed, Miss Jessamine never mentioned any one's age, or +recalled the exact year in which anything had happened. She said that +she had been taught that it was bad manners to do so "in a mixed +assembly." + +The Grey Goose also avoided dates, but this was partly because her +brain, though intelligent, was not mathematical, and computation was +beyond her. She never got farther than "last Michaelmas," "the +Michaelmas before that," and "the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas +before that." After this her head, which was small, became confused, and +she said, "Ga, ga!" and changed the subject. + +But she remembered the little Miss Jessamine, the Miss Jessamine with +the "conspicuous" hair. Her aunt, the big Miss Jessamine, said it was +her only fault. The hair was clean, was abundant, was glossy, but do +what you would with it, it never looked like other people's. And at +church, after Saturday night's wash, it shone like the best brass fender +after a Spring cleaning. In short, it was conspicuous, which does not +become a young woman--especially in church. + +Those were worrying times altogether, and the Green was used for strange +purposes. A political meeting was held on it with the village Cobbler in +the chair, and a speaker who came by stage coach from the town, where +they had wrecked the bakers' shops, and discussed the price of bread. He +came a second time, by stage, but the people had heard something about +him in the meanwhile, and they did not keep him on the Green. They took +him to the pond and tried to make him swim, which he could not do, and +the whole affair was very disturbing to all quiet and peaceable fowls. +After which another man came, and preached sermons on the Green, and a +great many people went to hear him; for those were "trying times," and +folk ran hither and thither for comfort. And then what did they do but +drill the ploughboys on the Green, to get them ready to fight the +French, and teach them the goose-step! However, that came to an end at +last, for Bony was sent to St. Helena, and the ploughboys were sent back +to the plough. + +Everybody lived in fear of Bony in those days, especially the naughty +children, who were kept in order during the day by threats of, "Bony +shall have you," and who had nightmares about him in the dark. They +thought he was an Ogre in a cocked hat. The Grey Goose thought he was a +fox, and that all the men of England were going out in red coats to hunt +him. It was no use to argue the point, for she had a very small head, +and when one idea got into it there was no room for another. + +Besides, the Grey Goose never saw Bony, nor did the children, which +rather spoilt the terror of him, so that the Black Captain became more +effective as a Bogy with hardened offenders. The Grey Goose remembered +_his_ coming to the place perfectly. What he came for she did not +pretend to know. It was all part and parcel of the war and bad times. He +was called the Black Captain, partly because of himself, and partly +because of his wonderful black mare. Strange stories were afloat of how +far and how fast that mare could go, when her master's hand was on her +mane and he whispered in her ear. Indeed, some people thought we might +reckon ourselves very lucky if we were not out of the frying-pan into +the fire, and had not got a certain well-known Gentleman of the Road to +protect us against the French. But that, of course, made him none the +less useful to the Johnson's Nurse, when the little Miss Johnsons were +naughty. + +"You leave off crying this minnit, Miss Jane, or I'll give you right +away to that horrid wicked officer. Jemima! just look out o' the windy, +if you please, and see if the Black Cap'n's a-coming with his horse to +carry away Miss Jane." + +And there, sure enough, the Black Captain strode by, with his sword +clattering as if it did not know whose head to cut off first. But he did +not call for Miss Jane that time. He went on to the Green, where he came +so suddenly upon the eldest Master Johnson, sitting in a puddle on +purpose, in his new nankeen skeleton suit, that the young gentleman +thought judgment had overtaken him at last, and abandoned himself to the +howlings of despair. His howls were redoubled when he was clutched from +behind and swung over the Black Captain's shoulder, but in five minutes +his tears were stanched, and he was playing with the officer's +accoutrements. All of which the Grey Goose saw with her own eyes, and +heard afterwards that that bad boy had been whining to go back to the +Black Captain ever since, which showed how hardened he was, and that +nobody but Bonaparte himself could be expected to do him any good. + +But those were "trying times." It was bad enough when the pickle of a +large and respectable family cried for the Black Captain; when it came +to the little Miss Jessamine crying for him, one felt that the sooner +the French landed and had done with it the better. + +The big Miss Jessamine's objection to him was that he was a soldier, and +this prejudice was shared by all the Green. "A soldier," as the speaker +from the town had observed, "is a bloodthirsty, unsettled sort of a +rascal; that the peaceable, home-loving, bread-winning citizen can never +conscientiously look on as a brother, till he has beaten his sword into +a ploughshare, and his spear into a pruning-hook." + +On the other hand there was some truth in what the Postman (an old +soldier) said in reply; that the sword has to cut a way for us out of +many a scrape into which our bread-winners get us when they drive their +ploughshares into fallows that don't belong to them. Indeed, whilst our +most peaceful citizens were prosperous chiefly by means of cotton, of +sugar, and of the rise and fall of the money-market (not to speak of +such salable matters as opium, firearms, and "black ivory"), +disturbances were apt to arise in India, Africa and other outlandish +parts, where the fathers of our domestic race were making fortunes for +their families. And, for that matter, even on the Green, we did not wish +the military to leave us in the lurch, so long as there was any fear +that the French were coming.[1] + +[Footnote 1: "'The political men declare war, and generally for +commercial interests; but when the nation is thus embroiled with its +neighbors the soldier ... draws the sword, at the command of his +country.... One word as to thy comparison of military and commercial +persons. What manner of men be they who have supplied the Caffres with +the firearms and ammunition to maintain their savage and deplorable +wars? Assuredly they are not military.... Cease then, if thou would'st +be counted among the just, to vilify soldiers."--W. Napier, Lieut. +General, _November_, 1851.] + + +II + +[Illustration] + +To let the Black Captain have little Miss Jessamine, however, was +another matter. Her Aunt would not hear of it; and then, to crown all, +it appeared that the Captain's father did not think the young lady good +enough for his son. Never was any affair more clearly brought to a +conclusion. But those were "trying times;" and one moon-light night, +when the Grey Goose was sound asleep upon one leg, the Green was rudely +shaken under her by the thud of a horse's feet. "Ga, ga!" said she, +putting down the other leg, and running away. + +By the time she returned to her place not a thing was to be seen or +heard. The horse had passed like a shot. But next day, there was +hurrying and skurrying and cackling at a very early hour, all about the +white house with the black beams, where Miss Jessamine lived. And when +the sun was so low, and the shadows so long on the grass that the Grey +Goose felt ready to run away at the sight of her own neck, little Miss +Jane Johnson, and her "particular friend" Clarinda, sat under the big +oak-tree on the Green, and Jane pinched Clarinda's little finger till +she found that she could keep a secret, and then she told her in +confidence that she had heard from Nurse and Jemima that Miss +Jessamine's niece had been a very naughty girl, and that that horrid +wicked officer had come for her on his black horse, and carried her +right away. + +"Will she never come back?" asked Clarinda. + +"Oh, no!" said Jane decidedly. "Bony never brings people back." + +"Not never no more?" sobbed Clarinda, for she was weak-minded, and could +not bear to think that Bony never, never let naughty people go home +again. + +Next day Jane had heard more. + +"He has taken her to a Green?" + +"A Goose Green?" asked Clarinda. + +"No. A Gretna Green. Don't ask so many questions, child," said Jane; +who, having no more to tell, gave herself airs. + +Jane was wrong on one point. Miss Jessamine's niece did come back, and +she and her husband were forgiven. The Grey Goose remembered it well, it +was Michaelmastide, the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas before the +Michaelmas--but ga, ga! What does the date matter? It was autumn, +harvest-time, and everybody was so busy prophesying and praying about +the crops, that the young couple wandered through the lanes, and got +blackberries for Miss Jessamine's celebrated crab and blackberry jam, +and made guys of themselves with bryony-wreaths, and not a soul troubled +his head about them, except the children, and the Postman. The children +dogged the Black Captain's footsteps (his bubble reputation as an Ogre +having burst), clamoring for a ride on the black mare. And the Postman +would go somewhat out of his postal way to catch the Captain's dark eye, +and show that he had not forgotten how to salute an officer. + +But they were "trying times." One afternoon the black mare was stepping +gently up and down the grass, with her head at her master's shoulder, +and as many children crowded on to her silky back as if she had been an +elephant in a menagerie; and the next afternoon she carried him away, +sword and _sabre-tache_ clattering war-music at her side, and the +old Postman waiting for them, rigid with salutation, at the four cross +roads. + +War and bad times! It was a hard winter, and the big Miss Jessamine and +the little Miss Jessamine (but she was Mrs. Black-Captain now), lived +very economically that they might help their poorer neighbors. They +neither entertained nor went into company, but the young lady always +went up the village as far as the _George and Dragon_, for air and +exercise, when the London Mail[2] came in. + +[Footnote 2: The Mail Coach it was that distributed over the face of the +land, like the opening of apocalyptic vials, the heart-shaking news of +Trafalgar, of Salamanca, of Vittoria, of Waterloo.... The grandest +chapter of our experience, within the whole Mail Coach service, was on +those occasions when we went down from London with the news of Victory. +Five years of life it was worth paying down for the privilege of an +outside place. DE QUINCEY.] + +One day (it was a day in the following June) it came in earlier than +usual, and the young lady was not there to meet it. + +But a crowd soon gathered round the _George and Dragon_, gaping to +see the Mail Coach dressed with flowers and oak-leaves, and the guard +wearing a laurel wreath over and above his royal livery. The ribbons +that decked the horses were stained and flecked with the warmth and foam +of the pace at which they had come, for they had pressed on with the +news of Victory. + +Miss Jessamine was sitting with her niece under the oak-tree on the +Green, when the Postman put a newspaper silently into her hand. Her +niece turned quickly--"Is there news?" + +"Don't agitate yourself, my dear," said her aunt. "I will read it aloud, +and then we can enjoy it together; a far more comfortable method, my +love, than when you go up the village, and come home out of breath, +having snatched half the news as you run." + +"I am all attention, dear aunt," said the little lady, clasping her +hands tightly on her lap. + +Then Miss Jessamine read aloud--she was proud of her reading--and the +old soldier stood at attention behind her, with such a blending of pride +and pity on his face as it was strange to see:-- + + "DOWNING STREET, + + "_June_ 22, 1815, 1 A.M." + +"That's one in the morning," gasped the Postman; "beg your pardon, mum." + +But though he apologized, he could not refrain from echoing here and +there a weighty word. "Glorious victory,"--"Two hundred pieces of +artillery,"--"Immense quantity of ammunition,"--and so forth. + +"The loss of the British Army upon this occasion has unfortunately been +most severe. It had not been possible to make out a return of the killed +and wounded when Major Percy left headquarters. The names of the +officers killed and wounded, as far as they can be collected, are +annexed. + +"I have the honor----" + +"The list, aunt! Read the list!" + +"My love--my darling--let us go in and----" + +"No. Now! now!" + +To one thing the supremely afflicted are entitled in their sorrow--to be +obeyed--and yet it is the last kindness that people commonly will do +them. But Miss Jessamine did. Steadying her voice, as best she might, +she read on, and the old soldier stood bareheaded to hear that first +Roll of the Dead at Waterloo, which began with the Duke of Brunswick, +and ended with Ensign Brown.[3] Five-and-thirty British Captains fell +asleep that day on the bed of Honor, and the Black Captain slept among +them. + +[Footnote 3: "Brunswick's fated chieftain" fell at Quatre Bras, the day +before Waterloo, but this first (very imperfect) list, as it appeared in +the newspapers of the day, did begin with his name, and end with that of +an Ensign Brown.] + + * * * * * + +There are killed and wounded by war, of whom no returns reach Downing +Street. + +Three days later, the Captain's wife had joined him, and Miss Jessamine +was kneeling by the cradle of their orphan son, a purple-red morsel of +humanity, with conspicuously golden hair. + +"Will he live, Doctor?" + +"Live? GOD bless my soul, ma'am! Look at him! The young Jackanapes!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + + And he wandered away and away + With Nature, the dear old Nurse. + + LONGFELLOW. + +[Illustration] + + +The Grey Goose remembered quite well the year that Jackanapes began to +walk, for it was the year that the speckled hen for the first time in +all her motherly life got out of patience when she was sitting. She had +been rather proud of the eggs--they are unusually large--but she never +felt quite comfortable on them; and whether it was because she used to +get cramp, and got off the nest, or because the season was bad, or what, +she never could tell, but every egg was addled but one, and the one that +did hatch gave her more trouble than any chick she had ever reared. + +It was a fine, downy, bright yellow little thing, but it had a monstrous +big nose and feet, and such an ungainly walk as she knew no other +instance of in her well-bred and high-stepping family. And as to +behavior, it was not that it was either quarrelsome or moping, but +simply unlike the rest. When the other chicks hopped and cheeped on the +Green all at their mother's feet, this solitary yellow one went waddling +off on its own responsibility, and do or cluck what the spreckled hen +would, it went to play in the pond. + +It was off one day as usual, and the hen was fussing and fuming after +it, when the Postman, going to deliver a letter at Miss Jessamine's +door, was nearly knocked over by the good lady herself, who, bursting +out of the house with her cap just off and her bonnet just not on, +fell into his arms, crying-- + +"Baby! Baby! Jackanapes! Jackanapes!" + +If the Postman loved anything on earth, he loved the Captain's +yellow-haired child, so propping Miss Jessamine against her own +door-post, he followed the direction of her trembling fingers and made +for the Green. + +Jackanapes had had the start of the Postman by nearly ten minutes. The +world--the round green world with an oak tree on it--was just becoming +very interesting to him. He had tried, vigorously but ineffectually, to +mount a passing pig the last time he was taken out walking; but then he +was encumbered with a nurse. Now he was his own master, and might, by +courage and energy, become the master of that delightful, downy, dumpy, +yellow thing, that was bobbing along over the green grass in front of +him. Forward! Charge! He aimed well, and grabbed it, but only to feel +the delicious downiness and dumpiness slipping through his fingers as he +fell upon his face. "Quawk!" said the yellow thing, and wobbled off +sideways. It was this oblique movement that enabled Jackanapes to come +up with it, for it was bound for the Pond, and therefore obliged to come +back into line. He failed again from top-heaviness, and his prey escaped +sideways as before, and, as before, lost ground in getting back to the +direct road to the Pond. + +[Illustration] + +And at the Pond the Postman found them both, one yellow thing rocking +safely on the ripples that lie beyond duck-weed, and the other washing +his draggled frock with tears, because he too had tried to sit upon the +Pond, and it wouldn't hold him. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + + ... If studious, copie fair what time hath blurred, + Redeem truth from his jawes; if souldier, + Chase brave employments with a naked sword + Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have, + If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. + + * * * * * + + In brief, acquit thee bravely: play the man. + Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. + Defer not the least vertue: life's poore span + Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe. + If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains. + If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. + + GEORGE HERBERT. + +[Illustration] + + +Young Mrs. Johnson, who was a mother of many, hardly knew which to pity +more; Miss Jessamine for having her little ways and her antimacassars +rumpled by a young Jackanapes; or the boy himself, for being brought up +by an old maid. + +Oddly enough, she would probably have pitied neither, had Jackanapes +been a girl. (One is so apt to think that what works smoothest works to +the highest ends, having no patience for the results of friction.) That +Father in GOD, who bade the young men to be pure, and the maidens brave, +greatly disturbed a member of his congregation, who thought that the +great preacher had made a slip of the tongue. + +"That the girls should have purity, and the boys courage, is what you +would say, good Father?" + +"Nature has done that," was the reply; "I meant what I said." + +In good sooth, a young maid is all the better for learning some robuster +virtues than maidenliness and not to move the antimacassars. And the +robuster virtues require some fresh air and freedom. As, on the other +hand, Jackanapes (who had a boy's full share of the little beast and the +young monkey in his natural composition) was none the worse, at his +tender years, for learning some maidenliness--so far as maidenliness +means decency, pity, unselfishness and pretty behavior. + +And it is due to him to say that he was an obedient boy, and a boy whose +word could be depended on, long before his grandfather the General came +to live at the Green. + +He was obedient; that is he did what his great aunt told him. But--oh +dear! oh dear!--the pranks he played, which it had never entered into +her head to forbid! + +It was when he had just been put into skeletons (frocks never suited +him) that he became very friendly with Master Tony Johnson, a younger +brother of the young gentleman who sat in the puddle on purpose. Tony +was not enterprising, and Jackanapes led him by the nose. One summer's +evening they were out late, and Miss Jessamine was becoming anxious, +when Jackanapes presented himself with a ghastly face all besmirched +with tears. He was unusually subdued. + +"I'm afraid," he sobbed; "if you please, I'm very much afraid that Tony +Johnson's dying in the churchyard." + +Miss Jessamine was just beginning to be distracted, when she smelt +Jackanapes. + +"You naughty, naughty boys! Do you mean to tell me that you've been +smoking?" + +"Not pipes," urged Jackanapes; "upon my honor, Aunty, not pipes. Only +segars like Mr. Johnson's! and only made of brown paper with a very, +very little tobacco from the shop inside them." + +Whereupon, Miss Jessamine sent a servant to the churchyard, who found +Tony Johnson lying on a tomb-stone, very sick, and having ceased to +entertain any hopes of his own recovery. + +If it could be possible that any "unpleasantness" could arise between +two such amiable neighbors as Miss Jessamine and Mrs. Johnson--and if +the still more incredible paradox can be that ladies may differ over a +point on which they are agreed--that point was the admitted fact that +Tony Johnson was "delicate," and the difference lay chiefly in this: +Mrs. Johnson said that Tony was delicate--meaning that he was more +finely strung, more sensitive, a properer subject for pampering and +petting than Jackanapes, and that, consequently, Jackanapes was to blame +for leading Tony into scrapes which resulted in his being chilled, +frightened, or (most frequently) sick. But when Miss Jessamine said that +Tony Johnson was delicate, she meant that he was more puling, less +manly, and less healthily brought up than Jackanapes, who, when they got +into mischief together, was certainly not to blame because his friend +could not get wet, sit a kicking donkey, ride in the giddy-go-round, +bear the noise of a cracker, or smoke brown paper with impunity, as he +could. + +Not that there was ever the slightest quarrel between the ladies. It +never even came near it, except the day after Tony had been so very sick +with riding Bucephalus in the giddy-go-round. Mrs. Johnson had explained +to Miss Jessamine that the reason Tony was so easily upset, was the +unusual sensitiveness (as a doctor had explained it to her) of the +nervous centres in her family--"Fiddlestick!" So Mrs. Johnson +understood Miss Jessamine to say, but it appeared that she only said +"Treaclestick!" which is quite another thing, and of which Tony was +undoubtedly fond. It was at the fair that Tony was made ill by riding on +Bucephalus. Once a year the Goose Green became the scene of a carnival. +First of all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and +night. Jackanapes could hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly +sleep for speculating what booths and whirligigs he should find fairly +established; when he and his dog Spitfire went out after breakfast. As a +matter of fact, he seldom had to wait long for news of the Fair. The +Postman knew the window out of which Jackanapes' yellow head would come, +and was ready with his report. + +"Royal Theayter, Master Jackanapes, in the old place, but be careful o' +them seats, sir; they're rickettier than ever. Two sweets and a +ginger-beer under the oak tree, and the Flying Boats is just a-coming +along the road." + +No doubt it was partly because he had already suffered severely in the +Flying Boats, that Tony collapsed so quickly in the giddy-go-round. He +only mounted Bucephalus (who was spotted, and had no tail) because +Jackanapes urged him, and held out the ingenious hope that the +round-and-round feeling would very likely cure the up-and-down +sensation. It did not, however, and Tony tumbled off during the first +revolution. + +[Illustration] + +Jackanapes was not absolutely free from qualms, but having once mounted +the Black Prince he stuck to him as a horseman should. During the first +round he waved his hat, and observed with some concern that the Black +Prince had lost an ear since last Fair; at the second, he looked a little +pale but sat upright, though somewhat unnecessarily rigid; at the +third round he shut his eyes. During the fourth his hat fell off, and he +clasped his horse's neck. By the fifth he had laid his yellow head +against the Black Prince's mane, and so clung anyhow till the +hobby-horses stopped, when the proprietor assisted him to alight, and he +sat down rather suddenly and said he had enjoyed it very much. + +The Grey Goose always ran away at the first approach of the caravans, +and never came back to the Green till there was nothing left of the Fair +but footmarks and oyster-shells. Running away was her pet principle; the +only system, she maintained, by which you can live long and easily, and +lose nothing. If you run away when you see danger, you can come back +when all is safe. Run quickly, return slowly, hold your head high, and +gabble as loud as you can, and you'll preserve the respect of the Goose +Green to a peaceful old age. Why should you struggle and get hurt, if +you can lower your head and swerve, and not lose a feather? Why in the +world should any one spoil the pleasure of life, or risk his skin, if he +can help it? + + "'What's the use' + Said the Goose." + +Before answering which one might have to consider what world--which +life--whether his skin were a goose-skin; but the Grey Goose's head +would never have held all that. + +Grass soon grows over footprints, and the village children took the +oyster-shells to trim their gardens with; but the year after Tony rode +Bucephalus there lingered another relic of Fairtime, in which Jackanapes +was deeply interested. "The Green" proper was originally only part of a +straggling common, which in its turn merged into some wilder waste land +where gipsies sometimes squatted if the authorities would allow them, +especially after the annual Fair. And it was after the Fair that +Jackanapes, out rambling by himself, was knocked over by the Gipsy's son +riding the Gipsy's red-haired pony at break-neck pace across the common. + +Jackanapes got up and shook himself, none the worse, except for being +heels over head in love with the red-haired pony. What a rate he went +at! How he spurned the ground with his nimble feet! How his red coat +shone in the sunshine! And what bright eyes peeped out of his dark +forelock as it was blown by the wind! + +The Gipsy boy had had a fright, and he was willing enough to reward +Jackanapes for not having been hurt, by consenting to let him have a +ride. + +"Do you mean to kill the little fine gentleman, and swing us all on the +gibbet, you rascal?" screamed the Gipsy-mother, who came up just as +Jackanapes and the pony set off. + +"He would get on," replied her son. "It'll not kill him. He'll fall on +his yellow head, and it's as tough as a cocoanut." + +But Jackanapes did not fall. He stuck to the red-haired pony as he had +stuck to the hobbyhorse; but oh, how different the delight of this wild +gallop with flesh and blood! Just as his legs were beginning to feel as +if he did not feel them, the Gipsy boy cried "Lollo!" Round went the +pony so unceremoniously, that, with as little ceremony, Jackanapes clung +to his neck, and he did not properly recover himself before Lollo +stopped with a jerk at the place where they had started. + +"Is his name Lollo?" asked Jackanapes, his hand lingering in the wiry +mane. + +"Yes." + +"What does Lollo mean?" + +"Red." + +"Is Lollo your pony?" + +"No. My father's." And the Gipsy boy led Lollo away. + +At the first opportunity Jackanapes stole away again to the common. This +time he saw the Gipsy-father, smoking a dirty pipe. + +"Lollo is your pony, isn't he?" said Jackanapes. + +"Yes." + +"He's a very nice one." + +"He's a racer." + +"You don't want to sell him, do you?" + +"Fifteen pounds," said the Gipsy-father; and Jackanapes sighed and went +home again. That very afternoon he and Tony rode the two donkeys, and +Tony managed to get thrown, and even Jackanapes' donkey kicked. But it +was jolting, clumsy work after the elastic swiftness and the dainty +mischief of the red-haired pony. + +A few days later Miss Jessamine spoke very seriously to Jackanapes. She +was a good deal agitated as she told him that his grandfather, the +General, was coming to the Green, and that he must be on his very best +behavior during the visit. If it had been feasible to leave off calling +him Jackanapes and to get used to his baptismal name of Theodore before +the day after to-morrow (when the General was due), it would have been +satisfactory. But Miss Jessamine feared it would be impossible in +practice, and she had scruples about it on principle. It would not seem +quite truthful, although she had always most fully intended that he +should be called Theodore when he had outgrown the ridiculous +appropriateness of his nickname. The fact was that he had not outgrown +it, but he must take care to remember who was meant when his grandfather +said Theodore. + +Indeed for that matter he must take care all along. + +"You are apt to be giddy, Jackanapes," said Miss Jessamine. + +"Yes aunt," said Jackanapes, thinking of the hobby-horses. + +"You are a good boy, Jackanapes. Thank GOD, I can tell your grandfather +that. An obedient boy, an honorable boy, and a kind-hearted boy. But you +are--in short, you _are_ a Boy, Jackanapes. And I hope,"--added +Miss Jessamine, desperate with the results of experience--"that the +General knows that Boys will be Boys." + +[Illustration] + +What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against. +He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over his +catechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair of +his smooth--("It's the wind that blows it, Aunty," said +Jackanapes--"I'll send by the coach for some bear's-grease," said Miss +Jessamine, tying a knot in her pocket-handkerchief)--not to burst in at +the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to crumple his +Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to be sure to +say "sir" to the General, to be careful about rubbing his shoes on the +doormat, and to bring his lesson-books to his aunt at once that she +might iron down the dogs' ears. The General arrived, and for the first +day all went well, except that Jackanapes' hair was as wild as usual, +for the hair-dresser had no bear's-grease left. He began to feel more at +ease with his grandfather, and disposed to talk confidentially with him, +as he did with the Postman. All that the General felt it would take too +long to tell, but the result was the same. He was disposed to talk +confidentially with Jackanapes. + +"Mons'ous pretty place this," he said, looking out of the lattice on to +the Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset, and the shadows were +long and peaceful. + +"You should see it in Fair-week, sir," said Jackanapes, shaking his +yellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendale armchairs +in which they sat. + +"A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left +eye. (The other was glass.) + +Jackanapes shook his hair once more. "I enjoyed this last one the best +of all," he said. "I'd so much money." + +"By George, it's not a common complaint in these bad times. How much had +ye?" + +"I'd two shillings. A new shilling Aunty gave me, and elevenpence I had +saved up, and a penny from the Postman--_sir_!" added Jackanapes +with a jerk, having forgotten it. + +"And how did ye spend it--_sir_?" inquired the General. Jackanapes +spread his ten fingers on the arms of his chair, and shut his eyes that +he might count the more conscientiously. + +"Watch-stand for Aunty, threepence. Trumpet for myself, twopence, that's +fivepence. Ginger-nuts for Tony, twopence, and a mug with a Grenadier on +for the Postman, fourpence, that's elevenpence. Shooting-gallery a +penny, that's a shilling. Giddy-go-round, a penny, that's one and a +penny. Treating Tony, one and twopence. Flying Boats (Tony paid for +himself), a penny, one and threepence. Shooting-gallery again, one and +four-pence; Fat Woman a penny, one and fivepence. Giddy-go-round again, +one and sixpence. Shooting-gallery, one and sevenpence. Treating Tony, +and then he wouldn't shoot, so I did, one and eightpence. Living +Skeleton, a penny--no, Tony treated me, the Living Skeleton doesn't +count. Skittles, a penny, one and ninepence Mermaid (but when we got +inside she was dead), a penny, one and tenpence. Theatre, a penny +(Priscilla Partington, or the Green Lane Murder. A beautiful young lady, +sir, with pink cheeks and a real pistol), that's one and elevenpence. +Ginger beer, a penny (I _was_ so thirsty!) two shillings. And then +the Shooting-gallery man gave me a turn for nothing, because, he said, I +was a real gentleman, and spent my money like a man." + +"So you do, sir, so you do!" cried the General. "Why, sir, you spend it +like a prince--And now I suppose you've not got a penny in your pocket?" + +"Yes I have," said Jackanapes. "Two pennies. They are saving up." And +Jackanapes jingled them with his hand. + +"You don't want money except at fair-times, I suppose?" said the +General. + +Jackanapes shook his mop. + +"If I could have as much as I want, I should know what to buy," said he. + +"And how much do you want, if you could get it?" + +"Wait a minute, sir, till I think what twopence from fifteen pounds +leaves. Two from nothing you can't, but borrow twelve. Two from twelve, +ten, and carry one. Please remember ten, sir, when I ask you. One from +nothing you can't, borrow twenty. One from twenty, nineteen, and carry +one. One from fifteen, fourteen. Fourteen pounds nineteen and--what did I +tell you to remember?" + +"Ten," said the General. + +"Fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and ten-pence then, is what I want," +said Jackanapes. + +"Bless my soul, what for?" + +"To buy Lollo with. Lollo means red, sir. The Gipsy's red-haired pony, +sir. Oh, he is beautiful! You should see his coat in the sunshine! You +should see his mane! You should see his tail! Such little feet, sir, and +they go like lightning! Such a dear face, too, and eyes like a mouse! +But he's a racer, and the Gipsy wants fifteen pounds for him." + +"If he's a racer, you couldn't ride him. Could you?" + +"No--o, sir, but I can stick to him. I did the other day." + +"You did, did you? Well, I'm fond of riding myself, and if the beast is +as good as you say, he might suit me." + +"You're too tall for Lollo, I think," said Jackanapes, measuring his +grandfather with his eye. + +"I can double up my legs, I suppose. We'll have a look at him +to-morrow." + +"Don't you weigh a good deal?" asked Jackanapes. + +"Chiefly waistcoats," said the General, slapping the breast of his +military frock-coat. "We'll have the little racer on the Green the first +thing in the morning. Glad you mentioned it, grandson. Glad you +mentioned it." + +The General was as good as his word. Next morning the Gipsy and Lollo, +Miss Jessamine, Jackanapes and his grandfather and his dog Spitfire, +were all gathered at one end of the Green in a group, which so aroused +the innocent curiosity of Mrs. Johnson, as she saw it from one of her +upper windows, that she and the children took their early promenade +rather earlier than usual. The General talked to the Gipsy, and +Jackanapes fondled Lollo's mane, and did not know whether he should be +more glad or miserable if his grandfather bought him. + +"Jackanapes!" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"I've bought Lollo, but I believe you were right. He hardly stands high +enough for me. If you can ride him to the other end of the Green, I'll +give him to you." + +How Jackanapes tumbled on to Lollo's back he never knew. He had just +gathered up the reins when the Gipsy-father took him by the arm. + +"If you want to make Lollo go fast, my little gentleman--" + +"_I_ can make him go!" said Jackanapes, and drawing from his pocket +the trumpet he had bought in the fair, he blew a blast both loud and +shrill. + +Away went Lollo, and away went Jackanapes' hat. His golden hair flew out, +an aureole from which his cheeks shone red and distended with +trumpeting. Away went Spitfire, mad with the rapture of the race, and +the wind in his silky ears. Away went the geese, the cocks, the hens, +and the whole family of Johnson. Lucy clung to her mamma, Jane saved +Emily by the gathers of her gown, and Tony saved himself by a +somersault. + +[Illustration] + +The Grey Goose was just returning when Jackanapes and Lollo rode back, +Spitfire panting behind. + +"Good, my little gentleman, good!" said the Gipsy. "You were born to the +saddle. You've the flat thigh, the strong knee, the wiry back, and the +light caressing hand, all you want is to learn the whisper Come here!" + +"What was that dirty fellow talking about, grandson?" asked the General. + +"I can't tell you, sir. It's a secret." + +They were sitting in the window again, in the two Chippendale +arm-chairs, the General devouring every line of his grandson's face, +with strange spasms crossing his own. + +"You must love your aunt very much, Jackanapes?" + +"I do, sir," said Jackanapes warmly. + +"And whom do you love next best to your aunt?" + +The ties of blood were pressing very strongly on the General himself, +and perhaps he thought of Lollo. But Love is not bought in a day, even +with fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and ten-pence. Jackanapes +answered quite readily, "The Postman." + +"Why the Postman?" + +"He knew my father," said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him, and +about his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He died +at Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too." "So you shall, +my boy. So you shall." + +"Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier for fear +of being killed." + +"Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and stay +there? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt, if you were a +butter-merchant!" + +"So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! I +say, do you think my father knew the Gipsy's secret? The Postman says he +used to whisper to his black mare." + +"Your father was taught to ride as a child, by one of those horsemen of +the East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows in +autumn. Grandson! Love me a little too. I can tell you more about your +father than the Postman can." + +"I do love you," said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened. I'd +no notion you were so nice." + +"Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--God help +me--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you! There shall never be +a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We're imperfect +enough, all of us, we needn't be so bitter; and life is uncertain enough +at its safest, we needn't waste its opportunities. Look at me! Here sit +I, after a dozen battles and some of the worst climates in the world, +and by yonder lych gate lies your mother, who didn't move five miles, I +suppose, from your aunt's apron-strings,--dead in her teens; my +golden-haired daughter, whom I never saw." + +Jackanapes was terribly troubled. + +"Don't cry, grandfather," he pleaded, his own blue eyes round with +tears. "I will love you very much, and I will try to be very good. But I +should like to be a soldier." + +"You shall, my boy, you shall. You've more claims for a commission than +you know of. Cavalry, I suppose; eh, ye young Jackanapes? Well, well; if +you live to be an honor to your country, this old heart shall grow young +again with pride for you; and if you die in the service of your +country--GOD bless me, it can but break for ye!" + +And beating the region which he said was all waistcoats, as if they +stifled him, the old man got up and strode out on to the Green. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + + "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his + life for his friends."--JOHN XV. 13. + +[Illustration] + + +Twenty and odd years later the Grey Goose was still alive, and in full +possession of her faculties, such as they were. She lived slowly and +carefully, and she lived long. So did Miss Jessamine; but the General +was dead. + +He had lived on the Green for many years, during which he and the +Postman saluted each other with a punctiliousness that it almost drilled +one to witness. He would have completely spoiled Jackanapes if Miss +Jessamine's conscience would have let him; otherwise he somewhat +dragooned his neighbors, and was as positive about parish matters as a +ratepayer about the army. A stormy-tempered, tender-hearted soldier, +irritable with the suffering of wounds of which he never spoke, whom all +the village followed to his grave with tears. + +The General's death was a great shock to Miss Jessamine, and her nephew +stayed with her for some little time after the funeral. Then he was +obliged to join his regiment, which was ordered abroad. + +One effect of the conquest which the General had gained over the +affections of the village, was a considerable abatement of the popular +prejudice against "the military." Indeed the village was now somewhat +importantly represented in the army. There was the General himself, and +the Postman, and the Black Captain's tablet in the church, and +Jackanapes, and Tony Johnson, and a Trumpeter. + +Tony Johnson had no more natural taste for fighting than for riding, but +he was as devoted as ever to Jackanapes, and that was how it came about +that Mr. Johnson bought him a commission in the same cavalry regiment +that the General's grandson (whose commission had been given him by the +Iron Duke) was in, and that he was quite content to be the butt of the +mess where Jackanapes was the hero; and that when Jackanapes wrote home +to Miss Jessamine, Tony wrote with the same purpose to his mother; +namely, to demand her congratulations that they were on active service +at last, and were ordered to the front. And he added a postscript to the +effect that she could have no idea how popular Jackanapes was, nor how +splendidly he rode the wonderful red charger whom he had named after his +old friend Lollo. + + * * * * * + +"Sound Retire!" + +A Boy Trumpeter, grave with the weight of responsibilities and +accoutrements beyond his years, and stained, so that his own mother +would not have known him, with the sweat and dust of battle, did as he +was bid; and then pushing his trumpet pettishly aside, adjusted his +weary legs for the hundredth time to the horse which was a world too big +for him, and muttering, "'Tain't a pretty tune," tried to see something +of this, his first engagement, before it came to an end. + +Being literally in the thick of it, he could hardly have seen less or +known less of what happened in that particular skirmish if he had been +at home in England. For many good reasons; including dust and smoke, and +that what attention he dared distract from his commanding officer was +pretty well absorbed by keeping his hard-mouthed troop-horse in hand, +under pain of execration by his neighbors in the melée. By-and-by, when +the newspapers came out, if he could get a look at one before it was +thumbed to bits, he would learn that the enemy had appeared from ambush +in overwhelming numbers, and that orders had been given to fall back, +which was done slowly and in good order, the men fighting as they +retired. + +[Illustration] + +Born and bred on the Goose Green, the youngest of Mr. Johnson's +gardener's numerous off-spring, the boy had given his family "no peace" +till they let him "go for a soldier" with Master Tony and Master +Jackanapes. They consented at last, with more tears than they shed when +an elder son was sent to jail for poaching, and the boy was perfectly +happy in his life, and full of _esprit de corps_. It was this which +had been wounded by having to sound retreat for "the young gentlemen's +regiment," the first time he served with it before the enemy, and he was +also harassed by having completely lost sight of Master Tony. There had +been some hard fighting before the backward movement began, and he had +caught sight of him once, but not since. On the other hand, all the +pulses of his village pride had been stirred by one or two visions of +Master Jackanapes whirling about on his wonderful horse. He had been +easy to distinguish, since an eccentric blow had bared his head without +hurting it, for his close golden mop of hair gleamed in the hot sunshine +as brightly as the steel of the sword flashing round it. + +Of the missiles that fell pretty thickly, the Boy Trumpeter did not take +much notice. First, one can't attend to everything, and his hands were +full. Secondly, one gets used to anything. Thirdly, experience soon +teaches one, in spite of proverbs, how very few bullets find their +billet. Far more unnerving is the mere suspicion of fear or even of +anxiety in the human mass around you. The Boy was beginning to wonder if +there were any dark reason for the increasing pressure, and whether they +would be allowed to move back more quickly, when the smoke in front +lifted for a moment, and he could see the plain, and the enemy's line +some two hundred yards away. + +And across the plain between them, he saw Master Jackanapes galloping +alone at the top of Lollo's speed, their faces to the enemy, his golden +head at Lollo's ear. + +But at this moment noise and smoke seemed to burst out on every side, +the officer shouted to him to sound retire, and between trumpeting and +bumping about on his horse, he saw and heard no more of the incidents of +his first battle. + +Tony Johnson was always unlucky with horses, from the days of the +giddy-go-round onwards. On this day--of all days in the year--his own +horse was on the sick list, and he had to ride an inferior, +ill-conditioned beast, and fell off that, at the very moment when it was +a matter of life or death to be able to ride away. The horse fell on +him, but struggled up again, and Tony managed to keep hold of it. It was +in trying to remount that he discovered, by helplessness and anguish, +that one of his legs was crushed and broken, and that no feat of which +he was master would get him into the saddle. Not able even to stand +alone, awkwardly, agonizingly unable to mount his restive horse, his +life was yet so strong within him! And on one side of him rolled the +dust and smoke-cloud of his advancing foe, and on the other, that which +covered his retreating friends. + +He turned one piteous gaze after them, with a bitter twinge, not of +reproach, but of loneliness; and then, dragging himself up by the side +of his horse, he turned the other way and drew out his pistol, and +waited for the end. Whether he waited seconds or minutes he never knew, +before some one gripped him by the arm. + +"Jackanapes! GOD bless you! It's my left leg. If you could get me on--" + +It was like Tony's luck that his pistol went off at his horse's tail, +and made it plunge; but Jackanapes threw him across the saddle. + +"Hold on anyhow, and stick your spur in. I'll lead him. Keep your head +down, they're firing high." + +And Jackanapes laid his head down--to Lollo's ear. + +It was when they were fairly off, that a sudden upspringing of the enemy +in all directions had made it necessary to change the gradual retirement +of our force into as rapid a retreat as possible. And when Jackanapes +became aware of this, and felt the lagging and swerving of Tony's horse, +he began to wish he had thrown his friend across his own saddle, and +left their lives to Lollo. + +When Tony became aware of it, several things came into his head. 1. That +the dangers of their ride for life were now more than doubled. 2. That +if Jackanapes and Lollo were not burdened with him they would +undoubtedly escape. 3. That Jackanapes' life was infinitely valuable, +and his--Tony's--was not. 4. That this--if he could seize it--was the +supremest of all the moments in which he had tried to assume the virtues +which Jackanapes had by nature; and that if he could be courageous and +unselfish now-- + +He caught at his own reins and spoke very loud-- + +"Jackanapes! It won't do. You and Lollo must go on. Tell the fellows I +gave you back to them, with all my heart. Jackanapes, if you love me, +leave me!" + +There was a daffodil light over the evening sky in front of them, and it +shone strangely on Jackanapes' hair and face. He turned with an odd look +in his eyes that a vainer man than Tony Johnson might have taken for +brotherly pride. Then he shook his mop and laughed at him. + +[Illustration] + +"_Leave you?_ To save my skin? No, Tony, not to save my soul!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + + Mr. VALIANT _summoned. His will. His last words._ + + Then, said he, "I am going to my Father's.... My Sword I + give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my + Courage and Skill to him that can get it." ... And as he + went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy Victory?" + + So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on + the other side. + BUNYAN'S _Pilgrim's, Progress_. + +[Illustration] + + +Coming out of a hospital-tent, at headquarters, the surgeon cannonaded +against, and rebounded from, another officer; a sallow man, not young, +with a face worn more by ungentle experiences than by age; with weary +eyes that kept their own counsel, iron gray hair, and a moustache that +was as if a raven had laid its wing across his lips and sealed them. + +"Well?" + +"Beg pardon, Major. Didn't see you. Oh, compound fracture and bruises, +but it's all right. He'll pull through." + +"Thank GOD." + +It was probably an involuntary expression, for prayer and praise were +not much in the Major's line, as a jerk of the surgeon's head would have +betrayed to an observer. He was a bright little man, with his feelings +showing all over him, but with gallantry and contempt of death enough +for both sides of his profession; who took a cool head, a white +handkerchief and a case of instruments, where other men went hot-blooded +with weapons, and who was the biggest gossip, male or female, of the +regiment. Not even the Major's taciturnity daunted him. + +"Didn't think he'd as much pluck about him as he has. He'll do all right +if he doesn't fret himself into a fever about poor Jackanapes." + +"Whom are you talking about?" asked the Major hoarsely. + +"Young Johnson. He--" + +"What about Jackanapes?" + +"Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought him +in; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung--" + +"Will he recover?" + +"No. Sad business." + +"What a frame--what limbs--what health--and what good looks? Finest +young fellow--" + +"Where is he?" + +"In his own tent," said the surgeon sadly. + +The Major wheeled and left him. + + * * * * * + +"Can I do anything else for you?" + +"Nothing, thank you. Except--Major! I wish I could get you to appreciate +Johnson." + +"This is not an easy moment, Jackanapes." + +"Let me tell you, sir--_he_ never will--that if he could have +driven me from him, he would be lying yonder at this moment, and I +should be safe and sound." + +The Major laid his hand over his mouth, as if to keep back a wish he +would have been ashamed to utter. + +"I've known old Tony from a child. He's a fool on impulse, a good man +and a gentleman in principle. And he acts on principle, which it's not +every--some water, please! Thank you, sir. It's very hot, and yet one's +feet get uncommonly cold. Oh, thank you, thank you. He's no fire-eater, +but he has a trained conscience and a tender heart, and he'll do his +duty when a braver and more selfish man might fail you. But he wants +encouragement; and when I'm gone----" + +"He shall have encouragement. You have my word for it. Can I do nothing +else?" + +"Yes, Major. A favor." + +"Thank you, Jackanapes." + +"Be Lollo's master, and love him as well as you can. He's used to it." + +"Wouldn't you rather Johnson had him?" + +The blue eyes twinkled in spite of mortal pain. + +"Tony _rides_ on principle, Major. His legs are bolsters, and will +be to the end of the chapter. I couldn't insult dear Lollo, but if you +don't care----" + +"Whilst I live----which will be longer than I desire or +deserve----Lollo shall want nothing, but----you. I have too little +tenderness for----my dear boy, you're faint. Can you spare me for a +moment?" + +"No, stay--Major!" + +"What? What?" + +"My head drifts so--if you wouldn't mind." + +"Yes! Yes!" + +"Say a prayer by me. Out loud please, I am getting deaf." + +"My dearest Jackanapes--my dear boy----" + +"One of the Church Prayers--Parade Service, you know----" + +"I see. But the fact is--GOD forgive me, Jackanapes--I'm a very +different sort of fellow to some of you youngsters. Look here, let me +fetch--" + +But Jackanapes' hand was in his, and it wouldn't let go. + +There was a brief and bitter silence. + +"'Pon my soul I can only remember the little one at the end." + +"Please," whispered Jackanapes. + +Pressed by the conviction that what little he could do it was his duty +to do, the Major--kneeling--bared his head, and spoke loudly, clearly, +and very reverently-- + +"The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--" + +Jackanapes moved his left hand to his right one, which still held the +Major's-- + +"--The love of GOD." + +And with that--Jackanapes died. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +[Illustration] + + "Und so ist der blaue Himmel grösser als jedes + Gewolk darin, und dauerhafter dazu." + JEAN PAUL RICHTER. + + +Jackanapes' death was sad news for the Goose Green, a sorrow justly +qualified by honorable pride in his gallantry and devotion. Only the +Cobbler dissented, but that was his way. He said he saw nothing in it +but foolhardiness and vainglory. They might both have been killed, as +easy as not, and then where would ye have been? A man's life was a man's +life, and one life was as good as another. No one would catch him +throwing his away. And, for that matter, Mrs. Johnson could spare a +child a great deal better than Miss Jessamine. + +But the parson preached Jackanapes' funeral sermon on the text, +"Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his +life for My sake shall find it;" and all the village went and wept to +hear him. + +Nor did Miss Jessamine see her loss from the Cobbler's point of view. On +the contrary, Mrs. Johnson said she never to her dying day should forget +how, when she went to condole with her, the old lady came forward, with +gentle-womanly self-control, and kissed her, and thanked GOD that her +dear nephew's effort had been blessed with success, and that this sad +war had made no gap in her friend's large and happy home circle. + +"But she's a noble, unselfish woman," sobbed Mrs. Johnson, "and she +taught Jackanapes to be the same, and that's how it is that my Tony has +been spared to me. And it must be sheer goodness in Miss Jessamine, for +what can she know of a mother's feelings? And I'm sure most people seem +to think that if you've a large family you don't know one from another +any more than they do, and that a lot of children are like a lot of +store-apples, if one's taken it won't be missed." + +Lollo--the first Lollo, the Gipsy's Lollo--very aged, draws Miss +Jessamine's bath-chair slowly up and down the Goose Green in the +sunshine. + +The Ex-postman walks beside him, which Lollo tolerates to the level of +his shoulder. If the Postman advances any nearer to his head, Lollo +quickens his pace, and were the Postman to persist in the injudicious +attempt, there is, as Miss Jessamine says, no knowing what might happen. + +In the opinion of the Goose Green, Miss Jessamine has borne her troubles +"wonderfully." Indeed, to-day, some of the less delicate and less +intimate of those who see everything from the upper windows, say (well +behind her back) that "the old lady seems quite lively with her military +beaux again." + +[Illustration] + +The meaning of this is, that Captain Johnson is leaning over one side of +her chair, whilst by the other bends a brother officer who is staying +with him, and who has manifested an extraordinary interest in Lollo. He +bends lower and lower, and Miss Jessamine calls to the Postman to +request Lollo to be kind enough to stop, whilst she is fumbling for +something which always hangs by her side, and has got entangled with her +spectacles. + +It is a two-penny trumpet, bought years ago in the village fair, and +over it she and Captain Johnson tell, as best they can, between them, +the story of Jackanapes' ride across the Goose Green; and how he won +Lollo--the Gipsy's Lollo--the racer Lollo--dear Lollo--faithful +Lollo--Lollo the never vanquished--Lollo the tender servant of his old +mistress. And Lollo's ears twitch at every mention of his name. + +Their hearer does not speak, but he never moves his eyes from the +trumpet, and when the tale is told, he lifts Miss Jessamine's hand and +presses his heavy black moustache in silence to her trembling fingers. + +The sun, betting gently to his rest, embroiders the sombre foliage of +the oak-tree with threads of gold. The Grey Goose is sensible of an +atmosphere of repose, and puts up one leg for the night. The grass glows +with a more vivid green, and, in answer to a ringing call from Tony, his +sisters, fluttering over the daisies in pale-hued muslins, come out of +their ever-open door, like pretty pigeons form a dovecote. + +And, if the good gossips, eyes do not deceive them, all the Miss +Johnsons, and both the officers, go wandering off into the lanes, where +bryony wreaths still twine about the brambles. + + * * * * * + +A sorrowful story, and ending badly? + +Nay, Jackanapes, for the end is not yet. + +A life wasted that might have been useful? + +Men who have died for men, in all ages, forgive the thought! + +There is a heritage of heroic example and noble obligation, not reckoned +in the Wealth of Nations, but essential to a nation's life; the contempt +of which, in any people, may, not slowly, mean even its commercial fall. +Very sweet are the uses of prosperity, the harvests of peace and +progress, the fostering sunshine of health and happiness, and length of +days in the land. + +But there be things--oh, sons of what has deserved the name of Great +Britain, forget it not!--"the good of" which and "the use of" which are +beyond all calculation of worldly goods and earthly uses; things such as +Love, and Honor, and the Soul of Man, which cannot be bought with a +price, and which do not die with death. "And they who would fain live +happily EVER after, should not leave these things out of the lessons of +their lives." + + + + +DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOT. + + * * * * * + +PREAMBLE. + + +A summer's afternoon. Early in the summer, and late in the afternoon; +with odors and colors deepening, and shadows lengthening, towards +evening. + +Two gaffers gossiping, seated side by side upon a Yorkshire wall. A wall +of sandstone of many colors, glowing redder and yellower as the sun goes +down; well cushioned with moss and lichen, and deep set in rank grass on +this side, where the path runs, and in blue hyacinths on that side, +where the wood is, and where--on the gray and still naked branches of +young oaks--sit divers crows, not less solemn than the gaffers, and also +gossiping. + +One gaffer in work-day clothes, not unpicturesque of form and hue. Gray, +home-knit stockings, and coat and knee-breeches of corduroy, which takes +tints from Time and Weather as harmoniously as wooden palings do; so +that field laborers (like some insects) seem to absorb or mimic the +colors of the vegetation round them and of their native soil. That is, +on work-days. Sunday-best is a different matter, and in this the other +gaffer was clothed. He was dressed like the crows above him, _fit +excepted_: the reason for which was, that he was only a visitor, a +revisitor to the home of his youth, and wore his Sunday (and funeral) +suit to mark the holiday. + +Continuing the path, a stone pack-horse track, leading past a hedge +snow-white with may, and down into a little wood, from the depths of +which one could hear a brook babbling. Then up across the sunny field +beyond, and yet up over another field to where the brow of the hill is +crowned by old farm-buildings standing against the sky. + +Down this stone path a young man going whistling home to tea. Then +staying to bend a swarthy face to the white may to smell it, and then +plucking a huge branch on which the blossom lies like a heavy fall of +snow, and throwing that aside for a better, and tearing off another and +yet another, with the prodigal recklessness of a pauper; and so, +whistling, on into the wood with his arms full. + +Down the sunny field, as he goes up it, a woman coming to meet him--with +_her_ arms full. Filled by a child with a may-white frock, and hair +shining with the warm colors of the sandstone. A young woman, having a +fair forehead visible a long way off, and buxom cheeks, and steadfast +eyes. When they meet he kisses her, and she pulls his dark hair and +smooths her own, and cuffs him in country fashion. Then they change +burdens, and she takes the may into her apron (stooping to pick up +fallen bits), and the child sits on the man's shoulder, and cuffs and +lugs its father as the mother did, and is chidden by her and kissed by +him. And all the babbling of their chiding and crowing and laughter +comes across the babbling of the brook to the ears of the old gaffers +gossiping on the wall. + +Gaffer I. spits out an over-munched stalk of meadow soft-grass, and +speaks: + +"D'ye see yon chap?" + +Gaffer II. takes up his hat and wipes it round with a spotted +handkerchief (for your Sunday hat is a heating thing for work-day wear), +and puts it on, and makes reply: + +"Aye. But he beats me. And--see there!--he's t'first that's beat me yet. +Why, lad! I've met young chaps to-day I could ha' sworn to for mates of +mine forty years back--if I hadn't ha' been i't' churchyard spelling +over their fathers' tumstuns!" + +"Aye. There's a many old standards gone home o' lately." + +"What do they call _him?_" + +"T' young chap?" + +"Aye." + +"They _call_ him--Darwin." + +"Dar--win? I should known a Darwin. They're old standards, is Darwins. +What's he to Daddy Darwin of t' Dovecot yonder?" + +"He _owns_ t' Dovecot. Did ye see t' lass?" + +"Aye. Shoo's his missus, I reckon?" + +"Aye." + +"What did they call her?" + +"Phoebe Shaw they called her. And if she'd been _my_ lass--but +that's nother here nor there, and he's got t' Dovecot." + +"Shaw? _They're_ old standards, is Shaws. Phoebe? They called her +mother Phoebe. Phoebe Johnson. She were a dainty lass! My father were +very fond of Phoebe Johnson. He said she allus put him i' mind of our +orchard on drying days; pink and white apple-blossom and clean clothes. +And yon's her daughter? Where d'ye say t'young chap come from? He don't +look like hereabouts." + +"He don't come from hereabouts. And yet he do come from hereabouts, as +one may say. Look ye here. He come from t' wukhus. That's the short and +the long of it." + +"_The workhouse!_" + +"Aye." + +Stupefaction. The crows chattering wildly overhead. + +"And he owns Darwin's Dovecot?" + +"He owns Darwin's Dovecot." + +"And how i' t' name o' all things did that come about'!" + +"Why, I'll tell thee. It was i' this fashion." + + * * * * * + +Not without reason does the wary writer put gossip in the mouths of +gaffers rather than of gammers. Male gossips love scandal as dearly as +female gossips do, and they bring to it the stronger relish and energies +of their sex. But these were country gaffers, whose speech--like +shadows--grows lengthy in the leisurely hours of eventide. The gentle +reader shall have the tale in plain narration. + +NOTE--It will be plain to the reader that the birds here described are +Rooks (_corvus frugilegus_). I have allowed myself to speak of them +by their generic or family name of Crow, this being a common country +practice. The genus _corvus_, or _Crow_, includes the Raven, +the Carrion Crow, the Hooded Crow, the Jackdaw, and the Rook. + + + +SCENE I. + + +One Saturday night (some eighteen years earlier than the date of this +gaffer-gossiping) the parson's daughter sat in her own room before the +open drawer of a bandy-legged black oak table, _balancing her +bags_. The bags were money-bags, and the matter shall be made clear +at once. + +In this parish, as in others, progress and the multiplication of weapons +with which civilization and the powers of goodness push their conquests +over brutality and the powers of evil, had added to the original duties +of the parish priest, a multifarious and all but impracticable variety +of offices; which, in ordinary and late conditions, would have been +performed by several more or less salaried clerks, bankers, accountants, +secretaries, librarians, club-committees, teachers, lecturers, discount +for ready-money dealers in clothing, boots, blankets, and coal, +domestic-servant agencies, caterers for the public amusement, and +preservers of the public peace. + +The country parson (no less than statesmen and princes, than men of +science and of letters) is responsible for a great deal of his work that +is really done by the help-mate--woman. This explains why five out of +the young lady's moneybags bore the following inscriptions in +marking-ink: "Savings' bank," "Clothing club," "Library," "Magazines and +hymn-books," "Three-halfpenny club"--and only three bore reference to +private funds, as--"House-money"--"Allowance "--"Charity." + +It was the bag bearing this last and greatest name which the parson's +daughter now seized and emptied into her lap. A ten-shilling piece, some +small silver, and twopence halfpenny jingled together, and roused a +silver-haired, tawny-pawed terrier, who left the hearthrug and came to +smell what was the matter. His mistress's right hand--absently +caressing--quieted his feelings; and with the left she held the +ten-shilling piece between finger and thumb, and gazed thoughtfully at +the other bags as they squatted in a helpless row, with twine-tied +mouths hanging on all sides. It was only after anxious consultation with +an account-book that the half-sovereign was exchanged for silver; thanks +to the clothing-club bag, which looked leaner for the accommodation. In +the three-halfpenny bag (which bulged with pence) some silver was +further solved into copper, and the charity bag was handsomely distended +before the whole lot was consigned once more to the table-drawer. + +Any one accustomed to book-keeping must smile at this bag-keeping of +accounts; but the parson's daughter could never "bring her mind" to +keeping the funds apart on paper, and mixing the actual cash. Indeed, +she could never have brought her conscience to it. Unless she had taken +the tenth for "charity" from her dress and pocket-money in coin, and put +it then and there into the charity bag, this self-imposed rule of the +duty of almsgiving would not have been performed to her soul's peace. + +The problem which had been exercising her mind that Saturday night was +how to spend what was left of her benevolent fund in a treat for the +children of the neighboring work-house. The fund was low, and this had +decided the matter. The following Wednesday would be her twenty-first +birthday. If the children came to tea with her, the foundation of the +entertainment would, in the natural course of things, be laid in the +Vicarage kitchen. The charity bag would provide the extras of the feast. +Nuts, toys, and the like. + +When the parson's daughter locked the drawer of the bandy-legged table, +she did so with the vigor of one who has made up her mind, and set about +the rest of her Saturday night's duties without further delay. + +She put out her Sunday clothes, and her Bible and Prayer-book, and +class-book and pencil, on the oak chest at the foot of the bed. She +brushed and combed the silver-haired terrier, who looked abjectly +depressed whilst this was doing, and preposterously proud when it was +done. She washed her own hair, and studied her Sunday-school lesson for +the morrow whilst it was drying. She spread a colored quilt at the foot +of her white one for the terrier to sleep on--a slur which he always +deeply resented. + +Then she went to bed, and slept as one ought to sleep on Saturday night, +who is bound to be at the Sunday School by 9.15 on the following +morning, with a clear mind on the Rudiments of the Faith, the history of +the Prophet Elisha, and the destinations of each of the parish +magazines. + + + +SCENE II. + + +Fatherless--motherless--homeless! + +A little work-house-boy, with a swarthy face and tidily-cropped black +hair, as short and thick as the fur of a mole, was grubbing, not quite +so cleverly as a mole, in the work-house garden. + +He had been set to weed, but the weeding was very irregularly performed, +for his eyes and heart were in the clouds, as he could see them over the +big boundary wall. For there--now dark against the white, now white +against the gray--some Air Tumbler pigeons were turning somersaults on +their homeward way, at such short and regular intervals that they seemed +to be tying knots in their lines of flight. + +It was too much! The small gardener shamelessly abandoned his duties, +and, curving his dirty paws on each side of his mouth, threw his whole +soul into shouting words of encouragement to the distant birds. + +"That's a good un! On with thee! Over ye go! Oo--ooray!" + +It was this last prolonged cheer which drowned the sound of footsteps on +the path behind him, so that if he had been a tumbler pigeon himself he +could not have jumped more nimbly when a man's hand fell upon his +shoulder. Up went his arms to shield his ears from a well-merited +cuffing; but fate was kinder to him than he deserved. It was only an old +man (prematurely aged with drink and consequent poverty), whose faded +eyes seemed to rekindle as he also gazed after the pigeons, and spoke as +one who knows. + +"Yon's Daddy Darwin's Tumblers." + +This old pauper had only lately come into "the House" (the house that +never was a home!), and the boy clung eagerly to his flannel sleeve, and +plied him thick and fast with questions about the world without the +workhouse-walls, and about the happy owner of those yet happier +creatures who were free not only on the earth, but in the skies. + +The poor old pauper was quite as willing to talk as the boy was to +listen. It restored some of that self-respect which we lose under the +consequences of our follies to be able to say that Daddy Darwin and he +had been mates together, and had had pigeon-fancying in common "many a +long year afore" he came into the House. + +And so these two made friendship over such matters as will bring man and +boy together to the end of time. And the old pauper waxed eloquent on +the feats of Homing Birds and Tumblers, and on the points of Almonds and +Barbs, Fantails and Pouters; sprinkling his narrative also with high +sounding and heterogeneous titles, such as Dragons and Archangels, Blue +Owls and Black Priests, Jacobines, English Horsemen and Trumpeters. And +through much boasting of the high stakes he had had on this and that +pigeon-match then, and not a few bitter complaints of the harsh +hospitality of the House he "had come to" now, it never seemed to occur +to him to connect the two, or to warn the lad who hung upon his lips +that one cannot eat his cake with the rash appetites of youth, and yet +hope to have it for the support and nourishment of his old age. + +The longest story the old man told was of a "bit of a trip" he had made +to Liverpool, to see some Antwerp Carriers flown from thence to Ghent, +and he fixed the date of this by remembering that his twin sons were +born in his absence, and that though their birthday was the very day of +the race, his "missus turned stoopid," as women (he warned the boy) are +apt to do, and refused to have them christened by uncommon names +connected with the fancy. All the same, he bet the lads would have been +nicknamed the Antwerp Carriers, and known as such to the day of their +death, if this had not come so soon and so suddenly, of croup; when (as +it oddly chanced) he was off on another "bit of a holiday" to fly some +pigeons of his own in Lincolnshire. + +This tale had not come to an end when a voice of authority called for +"Jack March," who rubbed his mole-like head, and went ruefully off, +muttering that he should "catch it now." + +"Sure enough! sure enough!" chuckled the unamiable old pauper. + +But again fate was kinder to the lad than his friend. His negligent +weeding passed unnoticed, because he was wanted in a hurry to join the +other children in the school-room. The parson's daughter had come, the +children were about to sing to her, and Jack's voice could not be +dispensed with. + +He "cleaned himself" with alacrity, and taking his place in the circle +of boys standing with their hands behind their backs, he lifted up a +voice worthy of a cathedral choir, whilst varying the monotony of sacred +song by secretly snatching at the tail of the terrier as it went +snuffing round the legs of the group. And in this feat he proved as much +superior to the rest of the boys (who also tried it) as he excelled them +in the art of singing. + +Later on he learned that the young lady had come to invite them all to +have tea with her on her birthday. Later still he found the old pauper +once more, and questioned him closely about the village and the +Vicarage, and as to which of the parishioners kept pigeons, and where. + +And when he went to his straw bed that night, and his black head +throbbed with visions and high hopes, these were not entirely of the +honor of drinking tea with a pretty young lady, and how one should +behave himself in such abashing circumstances. He did not even dream +principally of the possibility of getting hold of that silver-haired, +tawny-pawed dog by the tail under freer conditions than those of this +afternoon, though that was a refreshing thought. + +What kept him long awake was thinking of this. From the top of an old +walnut-tree at the top of a field at the back of the Vicarage, you could +see a hill, and on the top of the hill some farm buildings. And it was +here (so the old pauper had told him) that those pretty pigeons lived, +who, though free to play about among the clouds, yet condescended to +make an earthly home--in Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. + + + +SCENE III. + + +Two and two, girls and boys, the young lady's guests marched down to the +Vicarage. The school-mistress was anxious that each should carry his and +her tin mug, so as to give as little trouble as possible; but this was +resolutely declined, much to the children's satisfaction, who had their +walk with free hands, and their tea out of teacups and saucers, like +anybody else. + +It was a fine day, and all went well. The children enjoyed themselves, +and behaved admirably into the bargain. There was only one suspicion of +misconduct, and the matter was so far from clear that the parson's +daughter hushed it up, and, so to speak, dismissed the case. + +The children were playing at some game in which Jack March was supposed +to excel, but when they came to look for him he could nowhere be found. +At last he was discovered, high up among the branches of an old +walnut-tree at the top of the field, and though his hands were unstained +and his pockets empty, the gardener, who had been the first to spy him, +now loudly denounced him as an ungrateful young thief. Jack, with +swollen eyes and cheeks besmirched with angry tears, was vehemently +declaring that he had only climbed the tree to "have a look at Master +Darwin's pigeons," and had not picked so much as a leaf, let alone a +walnut; and the gardener, "shaking the truth out of him" by the collar +of his fustian jacket, was preaching loudly on the sin of adding +falsehood to theft, when the parson's daughter came up, and, in the end, +acquitted poor Jack, and gave him leave to amuse himself as he pleased. + +It did not please Jack to play with his comrades just then. He felt +sulky and aggrieved. He would have liked to play with the terrier who +had stood by him in his troubles, and barked at the gardener; but that +little friend now trotted after his mistress, who had gone to +choir-practice. + +Jack wandered about among the shrubberies. By-and-by he heard sounds of +music, and led by these he came to a gate in a wall, dividing the +Vicarage garden from the churchyard. Jack loved music, and the organ and +the voices drew him on till he reached the church porch; but there he +was startled by a voice that was not only not the voice of song, but was +the utterance of a moan so doleful that it seemed the outpouring of all +his lonely, and outcast, and injured feelings in one comprehensive howl. + +It was the voice of the silver-haired terrier. He was sitting in the +porch, his nose up, his ears down, his eyes shut, his mouth open, +bewailing in bitterness of spirit the second and greater crook of his +lot. + +To what purpose were all the caresses and care and indulgence of his +mistress, the daily walks, the weekly washings and combings, the +constant companionship, when she betrayed her abiding sense of his +inferiority, first, by not letting him sleep on the white quilt, and +secondly, by never allowing him to go to church? + +Jack shared the terrier's mood. What were tea and plum-cake to him, when +his pauper-breeding was so stamped upon him that the gardener was free +to say--"A nice tale too! What's thou to do wi' doves, and thou a +work'us lad?"--and to take for granted that he would thieve and lie if +he got the chance? + +His disabilities were not the dog's, however. The parish church was his +as well as another's, and he crept inside and leaned against one of the +stone pillars, as if it were a big, calm friend. + +Far away, under the transept, a group of boys and men held their music +near to their faces in the waning light. Among them towered the burly +choirmaster, baton in hand. The parson's daughter was at the organ. Well +accustomed to produce his voice to good purpose, the choirmaster's words +were clearly to be heard throughout the building, and it was on the +subject of articulation and emphasis, and the like, that he was +speaking; now and then throwing in an extra aspirate in the energy of +that enthusiasm without which teaching is not worth the name. + +"That'll not do. We must have it altogether different. You two lads are +singing like bumblebees in a pitcher--border there, boys!--it's no +laughing matter--put down those papers and keep your eyes on me--inflate +the chest--" (his own seemed to fill the field of vision) "and try and +give forth those noble words as if you'd an idea what they meant." + +No satire was intended or taken here, but the two boys, who were +practicing their duet in an anthem, laid down the music, and turned +their eyes on their teacher. + +"I'll run through the recitative," he added, "and take your time from +the stick. And mind that OH." + +The parson's daughter struck a chord, and then the burly choirmaster +spoke with the voice of melody: + +"My heart is disquieted within me. My heart--my heart is disquieted +within me. And the fear of death is fallen--is fallen upon me." + +The terrier moaned without, and Jack thought no boy's voice could be +worth listening to after that of the choirmaster. But he was wrong. A +few more notes from the organ, and then, as night-stillness in a wood is +broken by the nightingale, so upon the silence of the church a +boy-alto's voice broke forth in obedience to the choirmaster's uplifted +hand: + +"_Then_, I said--I said----" + +Jack gasped, but even as he strained his eyes to see what such a singer +could look like, with higher, clearer notes the soprano rose above him +--"Then I sa--a--id," and the duet began: + +"Oh that I had wings--O that I had wings like a dove!" + +_Soprano_.--"Then would I flee away." _Alto_.--"Then would I +flee away." _Together_.--"And be at rest--flee away and be at +rest." + +The clear young voices soared and chased each other among the arches, as +if on the very pinions for which they prayed. Then--swept from their +seats by an upward sweep of the choirmaster's arms--the chorus rose, as +birds rise, and carried on the strain. + +It was not a very fine composition, but this final chorus had the +singular charm of fugue. And as the voices mourned like doves, "Oh that +I had wings!" and pursued each other with the plaintive passage, "Then +would I flee away--then would I flee away----," Jack's ears knew no +weariness of the repetition. It was strangely like watching the rising +and falling of Daddy Darwin's pigeons, as they tossed themselves by +turns upon their homeward flight. + +After the fashion of the piece and period, the chorus was repeated, and +the singers rose to supreme effort. The choirmaster's hands flashed +hither and thither, controlling, inspiring, directing. He sang among the +tenors. + +Jack's voice nearly choked him with longing to sing too. Could words of +man go more deeply home to a young heart caged within workhouse walls? + +"Oh that I had wings like a dove! Then would I flee away--" the +choirmaster's white hands were fluttering downwards in the dusk, and the +chorus sank with them--"flee away and be at rest!" + + + +SCENE IV. + + +Jack March had a busy little brain, and his nature was not of the limp +type that sits down with a grief. That most memorable tea-party had +fired his soul with two distinct ambitions. First, to be a choir-boy; +and, secondly, to dwell in Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. He turned the matter +over in his mind, and patched together the following facts: + +The Board of Guardians meant to apprentice him, Jack, to some master, at +the earliest opportunity. Daddy Darwin (so the old pauper told him) was +a strange old man, who had come down in the world, and now lived quite +alone, with not a soul to help him in the house or outside it. He was +"not to say _mazelin_ yet, but getting helpless, and uncommon +mean." + +A nephew came one fine day and fetched away the old pauper, to his great +delight. It was by their hands that Jack despatched a letter, which the +nephew stamped and posted for him, and which was duly delivered on the +following morning to Mr. Darwin of the Dovecot. + +The old man had no correspondents, and he looked long at the letter +before he opened it. It did credit to the teaching of the workhouse +schoolmistress: + + "HONORED SIR, + + "They call me Jack March. I'm a workhouse lad, but, sir, I'm a + good one, and the Board means to 'prentice me next time. Sir, + if you face the Board and take me out you shall never regret it. + Though I says it as shouldn't I'm a handy lad. I'll clean a floor + with any one, and am willing to work early and late, and at your + time of life you're not what you was, and them birds must take a + deal of seeing to. I can see them from the garden when I'm set + to weed, and I never saw nought like them. Oh, sir, I do beg and + pray you let me mind your pigeons. You'll be none the worse of a + lad about the place, and I shall be happy all the days of my life. + Sir, I'm not unthankful, but please GOD, I should like to have + a home, and to be with them house doves. + + "From your humble servent--hoping to be-- + + "JACK MARCH." + +"Mr. Darwin, Sir. I love them Tumblers as if they was my own." + +Daddy Darwin thought hard and thought long over that letter. He changed +his mind fifty times a day. But Friday was the Board day, and when +Friday came he "faced the Board." And the little workhouse lad went home +to Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. + + + +SCENE V. + + +The bargain was oddly made, but it worked well. Whatever Jack's +parentage may have been (and he was named after the stormy month in +which he had been born), the blood that ran in his veins could not have +been beggar's blood. There was no hopeless, shiftless, invincible +idleness about him. He found work for himself when it was not given him +to do, and he attached himself passionately and proudly to all the +belongings of his new home. + +"Yon lad of yours seem handy enough, Daddy;--for a vagrant, as one may +say." Daddy Darwin was smoking over his garden wall, and Mrs. Shaw, from +the neighboring farm, had paused in her walk for a chat. She was a +notable housewife, and there was just a touch of envy in her sense of +the improved appearance of the doorsteps and other visible points of the +Dovecot. Daddy Darwin took his pipe out of his mouth to make way for the +force of his reply: + +"_Vagrant!_ Nay, missus, yon's no vagrant. _He's fettling up all +along._ Jack's the sort if he finds a key he'll look for the lock; if +ye give him a knife-blade he'll fashion a heft. Why, a vagrant's a chap +that, if he'd all your maester owns to-morrow, he'd be on the tramp +again afore t' year were out, and three years wouldn't repair the +mischief he'd leave behind him. A vagrant's a chap that if ye lend him a +thing he loses it; if ye give him a thing he abuses it----" + +"That's true enough, and there's plenty servant-girls the same," put in +Mrs. Shaw. + +"Maybe there be, ma'am--maybe there be; vagrants' children, I reckon. +But yon little chap I got from t' House comes of folk that's had stuff +o' their own, and cared for it--choose who they were." + +"Well, Daddy," said his neighbor, not without malice, "I'll wish you a +good evening. You've got a good bargain out of the parish, it seems." + +But Daddy Darwin only chuckled, and stirred up the ashes in the bowl of +his pipe. + +"The same to you, ma'am--the same to you. Aye! he's a good bargain--a +very good bargain is Jack March." + +It might be supposed from the foregoing dialogue that Daddy Darwin was a +model householder, and the little workhouse boy the neatest creature +breathing. But the gentle reader who may imagine this is much mistaken. + +Daddy Darwin's Dovecot was freehold, and when he inherited it from his +father there was, still attached to it a good bit of the land that had +passed from father to son through more generations than the church +registers were old enough to record. But the few remaining acres were so +heavily mortgaged that they had to be sold. So that a bit of house +property elsewhere, and the old homestead itself, were all that was +left. And Daddy Darwin had never been the sort of man to retrieve his +luck at home, or to seek it abroad. + +That he had inherited a somewhat higher and more refined nature than his +neighbors had rather hindered than helped him to prosper. And he had +been unlucky in love. When what energies he had were in their prime, his +father's death left him with such poor prospects that the old farmer to +whose daughter he was betrothed broke off the match and married her +elsewhere. His Alice was not long another man's wife. She died within a +year from her wedding-day, and her husband married again within a year +from her death. Her old lover was no better able to mend his broken +heart than his broken fortunes. He only banished women from the Dovecot, +and shut himself up from the coarse consolation of his neighbors. + +In this loneliness, eating a kindly heart out in bitterness of spirit, +with all that he ought to have had-- + + To plough and sow + And reap and mow-- + +gone from him, and in the hands of strangers; the pigeons, for which the +Dovecot had always been famous, became the business and the pleasure of +his life. But of late years his stock had dwindled, and he rarely went +to pigeon-matches or competed in shows and races. A more miserable fancy +rivalled his interest in pigeon fancying. His new hobby was hoarding; +and money that, a few years back, he would have freely spent to improve +his breed of Tumblers or back his Homing Birds he now added with +stealthy pleasure to the store behind the secret panel of a fine old oak +bedstead that had belonged to the Darwyn who owned Dovecot when the +sixteenth century was at its latter end. In this bedstead Daddy slept +lightly of late, as old men will, and he had horrid dreams, which old +men need not have. The queer faces carved on the panels (one of which +hid the money hole) used to frighten him when he was a child. They did +not frighten him now by their grotesque ugliness, but when he looked at +them, _and knew which was which_, he dreaded the dying out of +twilight into dark, and dreamed of aged men living alone, who had been +murdered for their savings. These growing fears had had no small share +in deciding him to try Jack March; and to see the lad growing stronger, +nimbler, and more devoted to his master's interests day by day, was a +nightly comfort to the poor old hoarder in the bed-head. + +As to his keen sense of Jack's industry and carefulness, it was part of +the incompleteness of Daddy Darwin's nature, and the ill-luck of his +career, that he had a sensitive perception of order and beauty, and a +shrewd observation of ways of living and qualities of character, and yet +had allowed his early troubles to blight him so completely that he never +put forth an effort to rise above the ruin, of which he was at least as +conscious as his neighbors. + +That Jack was not the neatest creature breathing, one look at him, as he +stood with pigeons on his head and arms and shoulders, would have been +enough to prove. As the first and readiest repudiation of his workhouse +antecedents he had let his hair grow till it hung in the wildest +elf-locks, and though the terms of his service with Daddy Darwin would +not, in any case, have provided him with handsome clothes, such as he +had were certainly not the better for any attention he bestowed upon +them. As regarded the Dovecot, however, Daddy Darwin had not done more +than justice to his bargain. A strong and grateful attachment to his +master, and a passionate love for the pigeons he tended, kept Jack +constantly busy in the service of both; the old pigeon-fancier taught +him the benefits of scrupulous cleanliness in the pigeon-cote, and Jack +"stoned" the kitchen-floor and the doorsteps on his own responsibility. +The time did come when he tidied up himself. + + + +SCENE VI. + + +Daddy Darwin had made the first breach in his solitary life of his own +free will, but it was fated to widen. The parson's daughter soon heard +that he had got a lad from the workhouse, the very boy who sang so well +and had climbed the walnut-tree to look at Daddy Darwin's pigeons. The +most obvious parish questions at once presented themselves to the young +lady's mind. "Had the boy been christened? Did he go to Church and +Sunday School? Did he say his prayers and know his Catechism? Had he a +Sunday suit? Would he do for the choir?" + +Then, supposing (a not uncommon case) that the boy _had_ been +christened, _said_ he said his prayers, _knew_ his Catechism, +and _was_ ready for school, church, and choir, but had not got a +Sunday suit--a fresh series of riddles propounded themselves to her busy +brain. Would her father yield up his everyday coat and take his Sunday +one into weekday wear? Could the charity bag do better than pay the +tailor's widow for adapting this old coat to the new chorister's back, +taking it in at the seams, turning it wrong-side out, and getting new +sleeves out of the old tails? Could she herself spare the boots which +the village cobbler had just re-soled for her--somewhat clumsily--and +would the "allowance" bag bear this strain? Might she hope to coax an +old pair of trowsers out of her cousin, who was spending his Long +Vacation at the Vicarage, and who never reckoned very closely with +_his_ allowance, and kept no charity bag at all? Lastly would "that +old curmudgeon at the Dovecot" let his little farm-boy go to church and +school and choir? + +"I must go and persuade him," said the young lady. + +What she said, and what (at the time) Daddy Darwin said, Jack never +knew. He was at high sport with the terrier round the big sweet-brier +bush, when he saw his old master slitting the seams of his +weather-beaten coat in the haste with which he plucked crimson clove +carnations as if they had been dandelions, and presented them, not +ungracefully, to the parson's daughter. + +Jack knew why she had come, and strained his ears to catch his own name. +But Daddy Darwin was promising pipings of the cloves. + +"They are such dear old-fashioned things," said she, burying her nose in +the bunch. + +"We're old-fashioned altogether, here, Miss," said Daddy Darwin, looking +wistfully at the tumble-down house behind them. + +"You're very pretty here," said she, looking also, and thinking what a +sketch it would make, if she could keep on friendly terms with this old +recluse, and get leave to sit in the garden. Then her conscience smiting +her for selfishness, she turned her big eyes on him and put out her +small hand. + +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Darwin, very much obliged to you +indeed. And I hope that Jack will do credit to your kindness. And thank +you so much for the cloves," she added, hastily changing a subject which +had cost some argument, and which she did not wish to have reopened. + +Daddy Darwin had thoughts of reopening it. He was slowly getting his +ideas together to say that the lad should see how he got along with the +school before trying the choir, when he found the young lady's hand in +his, and had to take care not to hurt it, whilst she rained thanks on +him for the flowers. + +"You're freely welcome, Miss," was what he did say after all. + +In the evening, however, he was very moody, but Jack was dying of +curiosity, and at last could contain himself no longer. + +"What did Miss Jenny want, Daddy?" he asked. + +The old man looked very grim. + +"First to make a fool of me, and i' t' second place to make a fool of +thee," was his reply. And he added with pettish emphasis, "They're all +alike, gentle and simple. Lad, lad! If ye'd have any peace of your life +never let a woman's foot across your threshold. Steek t' door of your +house--if ye own one--and t' door o' your heart--if ye own one--and then +ye'll never rue. Look at this coat!" + +And the old man went grumpily to bed, and dreamed that Miss Jenny had +put her little foot over his threshold, and that he had shown her the +secret panel, and let her take away his savings. + +And Jack went to bed, and dreamed that he went to school, and showed +himself to Phoebe Shaw in his Sunday suit. + +This dainty little damsel had long been making havoc in Jack's heart. +The attraction must have been one of contrast, for whereas Jack was +black and grubby, and had only week-day clothes--which were ragged at +that--Phoebe was fair, and exquisitely clean, and quite terribly tidy. +Her mother was the neatest woman in the parish. It was she who was wont +to say to her trembling handmaid, "I hope I can black a grate without +blacking myself." But little Phoebe promised so far to out-do her +mother, that it seemed doubtful if she could "black herself" if she +tried. Only the bloom of childhood could have resisted the polishing +effects of yellow soap, as Phoebe's brow and cheeks did resist it. Her +shining hair was--compressed into a plait that would have done credit to +a rope-maker. Her pinafores were speckless, and as to her white Whitsun +frock--Jack could think of nothing the least like Phoebe in that, except +a snowy fantail strutting about the Dovecot roof; and, to say the truth, +the likeness was most remarkable. + +It has been shown that Jack March had a mind to be master of his fate, +and he did succeed in making friends with little Phoebe Shaw. This was +before Miss Jenny's visit, but the incident shall be recorded here. + +Early on Sunday mornings it was Jack's custom to hide his work-day garb +in an angle of the ivy-covered wall of the Dovecot garden, only letting +his head appear over the top, from whence he watched to see Phoebe pass +on her way to Sunday School, and to bewilder himself with the sight of +her starched frock, and her airs with her Bible and Prayer-book, and +class card, and clean pocket-handkerchief. + +Now, amongst the rest of her Sunday paraphernalia, Phoebe always carried +a posy, made up with herbs and some strong smelling flowers. +Countrywomen take mint and southernwood to a long hot service, as fine +ladies take smelling-bottles (for it is a pleasant delusion with some +writers that the weaker sex is a strong sex in the working classes). And +though Phoebe did not suffer from "fainty feels" like her mother, she +and her little playmates took posies to Sunday School, and refreshed +their nerves in the stream of question and answer, and hair oil and +corduroy, with all the airs of their elders. + +One day she lost her posy on her way to school, and her loss was Jack's +opportunity. He had been waiting half-an-hour among the ivy, when he saw +her just below him, fuzzling round and round like a kitten chasing +its tail. He sprang to the top of the wall. + +"Have ye lost something?" he gasped. + +"My posy," said poor Phoebe, lifting her sweet eyes, which were full of +tears. + +A second spring brought Jack into the dust at her feet, where he +searched most faithfully, and was wandering along the path by which she +had come, when she called him back. + +"Never mind," she said. "They'll most likely be dusty by now." + +Jack was not used to think the worse of anything for a coating of dust; +but he paused, trying to solve the perpetual problem of his situation, +and find out what the little maid really wanted. + +"'Twas only Old Man and marygolds," said she. "They're common enough." + +A light illumined Jack's understanding. + +"We've Old Man i' plenty. Wait, and I'll get thee a fresh posy." And he +began to reclimb the wall. + +But Phoebe drew nearer. She stroked down her frock, and spoke mincingly +but confidentially. "My mother says Daddy Darwin has red bergamot i' his +garden. We've none i' ours. My mother always says there's nothing like +red bergamot to take to church. She says it's a deal more refreshing +than Old Man, and not so common. My mother says she's always meaning to +ask Daddy Darwin to let us have a root to set; but she doesn't often see +him, and when she does she doesn't think on. But she always says there's +nothing like red bergamot, and my Aunt Nancy, she says the same." + +"_Red_ is it?" cried Jack. "You wait there, love." And before +Phoebe could say him nay, he was over the wall and back again with his +arms full. + +"Is it any o' this lot?" he inquired, dropping a small haycock of +flowers at her feet. + +"Don't ye know one from t'other?" asked Phoebe, with round eyes of +reproach. And spreading her clean kerchief on the grass she laid her +Bible and Prayer-book and class card on it, and set vigorously and +nattily to work, picking one flower and another from the fragrant +confusion, nipping the stalks to even lengths, rejecting withered +leaves, and instructing Jack as she proceeded. + +"I suppose ye know a rose? That's a double velvet.[4] They dry sweeter +than lavender for linen. These dark red things is pheasants' eyes; but, +dear, dear, what a lad! Ye'd dragged it up by the roots! And eh! what +will Master Darwin say when he misses these pink hollyhocks And only in +bud, too! _There's_ red Bergamot: smell it!"[5] + +[Footnote 4: Double velvet, an old summer rose, not common now It is +described by Parkinson.] + +[Footnote 5: Red Bergamot, or Twinflower; _Monarda Didyma_.] + +It had barely touched Jack's willing nose when it was hastily withdrawn. +Phoebe had caught sight of Polly and Susan Smith coming to school, and +crying that she should be late and must run, the little maid picked up +her paraphernalia (not forgetting the red bergamot), and fled down the +lane. And Jack, with equal haste, snatched up the tell-tale heap of +flowers and threw them into a disused pig-sty, where it was unlikely +that Daddy Darwin would go to look for his poor pink hollyhocks. + + + +SCENE VII. + + +April was a busy month in the Dovecot. Young birds were chipping the +egg, parent birds were feeding their young or relieving each other on +the nest, and Jack and his master were constantly occupied and excited. + +One night Daddy Darwin went to bed; but, though he was tired, he did not +sleep long. He had sold a couple of handsome but quarrelsome pigeons, to +advantage, and had added their price to the hoard in the bed-head. This +had renewed his old fears, for the store was becoming very valuable; and +he wondered if it had really escaped Jack's quick observation, or +whether the boy knew about it, and, perhaps, talked about it. As he lay +and worried himself he fancied he heard sounds without--the sound of +footsteps and of voices. Then his heart beat till he could hear nothing +else; then he could undoubtedly hear nothing at all; then he certainly +heard something which probably was rats. And so he lay in a cold sweat, +and pulled the rug over his face, and made up his mind to give the money +to the parson, for the poor, if he was spared till daylight. + +He _was_ spared till daylight, and had recovered himself, and +settled to leave the money where it was, when Jack rushed in from the +pigeon-house with a face of dire dismay. He made one or two futile +efforts to speak, and then unconsciously used the words Shakespeare has +put into the mouth of Macduff, "All my pretty 'uns!" and so burst into +tears. + +And when the old man made his way to the pigeon-house, followed by poor +Jack, he found that the eggs were cold and the callow young shivering in +deserted nests, and that every bird was gone. And then he remembered the +robbers, and was maddened by the thought that whilst he lay expecting +thieves to break in and steal his money he had let them get safely off +with his whole stock of pigeons. + +Daddy Darwin had never taken up arms against his troubles, and this one +crushed him. + +The fame and beauty of his house-doves were all that was left of +prosperity about the place, and now there was nothing left-- +_nothing_! Below this dreary thought lay a far more bitter one, +which he dared not confide to Jack. He had heard the robbers; he +might have frightened them away; he might at least have given the lad a +chance to save his pets, and not a care had crossed his mind except for +the safety of his own old bones, and of those miserable savings in the +bed-head, which he was enduring so much to scrape together (oh satire!) +for a distant connection whom he had never seen. He crept back to the +kitchen, and dropped in a heap upon the settle, and muttered to himself. +Then his thoughts wandered. Supposing the pigeons were gone for good, +would he ever make up his mind to take that money out of the money-hole, +and buy a fresh stock? He knew he never would, and shrank into a meaner +heap upon the settle as he said so to himself. He did not like to look +his faithful lad in the face. + +Jack looked him in the face, and, finding no help there, acted pretty +promptly behind his back. He roused the parish constable, and fetched +that functionary to the Dovecot before he had had bite or sup to break +his fast. He spread a meal for him and Daddy, and borrowed the Shaws' +light cart whilst they were eating it. The Shaws were good farmer-folk, +they sympathized most fully; and Jack was glad of a few words of pity +from Phoebe. She said she had watched the pretty pets "many a score of +times," which comforted more than one of Jack's heartstrings. Phoebe's +mother paid respect to his sense and promptitude. He had acted exactly +as she would have done. + +"Daddy was right enough about yon lad," she admitted. "He's not one to +let the grass grow under his feet." + +And she gave him a good breakfast whilst the horse was being "put to." +It pleased her that Jack jumped up and left half a delicious cold +tea-cake behind him when the cart-wheels grated outside. Mrs. Shaw sent +Phoebe to put the cake in his pocket, and "the Measter" helped Jack in +and took the reins. He said he would "see Daddy Darwin through it," and +added the weight of his opinion to that of the constable, that the +pigeons had been taken to "a beastly low place" (as he put it) that had +lately been set up for pigeon-shooting in the outskirts of the +neighboring town. + +They paused no longer at the Dovecot than was needed to hustle Daddy +Darwin on to the seat beside Master Shaw, and for Jack to fill his +pockets with peas, and take his place beside the constable. He had +certain ideas of his own on the matter, which were not confused by the +jogtrot of the light cart, which did give a final jumble to poor Daddy +Darwin's faculties. + +No wonder they were jumbled! The terrors of the night past, the shock of +the morning, the completeness of the loss, the piteous sight in the +pigeon-house, remorseful shame, and then--after all these years, during +which he had not gone half a mile from his own hearthstone--to be set up +for all the world to see, on the front seat of a market-cart, back to +back with the parish constable, and jogged off as if miles were nothing, +and crowded streets were nothing, and the Beaulieu Gardens were nothing; +Master Shaw talking away as easily as if they were sitting in two +armchairs, and making no more of "stepping into" a lawyer's office, and +"going on" to the Town Hall, than if he were talking of stepping up to +his own bedchamber or going out into the garden! + +That day passed like a dream, and Daddy Darwin remembered what happened +in it as one remembers visions of the night. + +He had a vision (a very unpleasing vision) of the proprietor of the +Beaulieu Gardens, a big greasy man, with sinister eyes very close +together, and a hook nose, and a heavy watch chain, and a bullying +voice. He browbeat the constable very soon, and even bullied Master Shaw +into silence. No help was to be had from him in his loud indignation at +being supposed to traffic with thieves. + +When he turned the tables by talking of slander, loss of time, and +compensation, Daddy Darwin smelt money, and tremblingly whispered to +Master Shaw to apologize and get out of it. "They're gone for good," he +almost sobbed: "Gone for good, like all t' rest! And I'll not be long +after 'em." + +But even as he spoke he heard a sound which made him lift up his head. +It was Jack's call at feeding-time to the pigeons at the Dovecot. And +quick following on this most musical and most familiar sound there came +another. The old man put both his lean hands behind his ears to be sure +that he heard it aright--the sound of wings--the wings of a dove! + +The other men heard it and ran in. Whilst they were wrangling, Jack had +slipped past them, and had made his way into a weird enclosure in front +of the pigeon-house. And there they found him, with all the captive +pigeons coming to his call; flying, fluttering, strutting, nestling from +head to foot of him, he scattering peas like hail. + +He was the first to speak, and not a choke in his voice. His iron +temperament was at white heat, and, as he afterwards said, he "cared no +more for yon dirty chap wi' the big nose, nor if he were a _ratten_[6] +in a hay-loft!" + +[Footnote 6: _Anglicé_ Rat.] + +"These is ours," he said, shortly. "I'll count 'em over, and see if +they're right. There was only one young 'un that could fly. A white +'un." ("It's here," interpolated Master Shaw.) "I'll pack 'em i' yon," +and Jack turned his thumb to a heap of hampers in a corner. "T' carrier +can leave t' baskets at t' toll-bar next Saturday, and ye may send your +lad for 'em, if ye keep one." + +The proprietor of the Beaulieu Gardens was not a man easily abashed, but +most of the pigeons were packed before he had fairly resumed his +previous powers of speech. Then, as Master Shaw said, he talked "on the +other side of his mouth." Most willing was he to help to bring to +justice the scoundrels who had deceived him and robbed Mr. Darwin, but +he feared they would be difficult to trace. His own feeling was that of +wishing for pleasantness among neighbors. The pigeons had been found at +the Gardens. That was enough. He would be glad to settle the business +out of court. + +Daddy Darwin heard the chink of the dirty man's money, and would have +compounded the matter then and there. But not so the parish constable, +who saw himself famous; and not so Jack, who turned eyes of smouldering +fire on Master Shaw. + +"Maester Shaw! you'll not let them chaps get off? Daddy's mazelin' wi' +trouble, sir, but I reckon you'll see to it." + +"If it costs t' worth of the pigeons ten times over, I'll see to it, my +lad," was Master Shaw's reply. And the parish constable rose even to a +vein of satire as he avenged himself of the man who had slighted his +office. "Settle it out of court? Aye! I dare say. And send t' same chaps +to fetch 'em away again t' night after. Nay--bear a hand with this +hamper, Maester Shaw, if you please--if it's all t' same to you, Mr. +Proprietor, I think we shall have to trouble you to step up to t' Town +Hall by-and-by, and see if we can't get shut of them mistaking friends +o' yours for three months any way." + +If that day was a trying one to Daddy Darwin the night that followed it +was far worse. The thieves were known to the police, and the case was +down to come on at the Town Hall the following morning; but meanwhile +the constable thought fit to keep the pigeons under his own charge in +the village lock-up. Jack refused to be parted from his birds, and +remained with them, leaving Daddy Darwin alone in the Dovecot. He dared +not go to bed, and it was not a pleasant night that he spent, dozing +with weariness, and starting up with fright, in an arm-chair facing the +money-hole. + +Some things that he had been nervous about he got quite used to, +however. He bore himself with sufficient dignity in the publicity of the +Town Hall, where a great sensation was created by the pigeons being let +loose without, and coming to Jack's call. Some of them fed from the +boy's lips, and he was the hero of the hour, to Daddy Darwin's delight. + +Then the lawyer and the lawyer's office proved genial and comfortable to +him. He liked civil ways and smooth speech, and understood them far +better than Master Shaw's brevity and uncouthness. The lawyer chatted +kindly and intelligently; he gave Daddy Darwin wine and biscuit, and +talked of the long standing of the Darwin family and its vicissitudes; +he even took down some fat yellow books, and showed the old man how many +curious laws had been made from time to time for the special protection +of pigeons in Dovecots, very ancient statutes making the killing of a +house-dove felony. Then 1 James I. c. 29 awarded three months' +imprisonment "without bail or main price" to any person who should +"shoot at, kill, or destroy with any gun, crossbow, stone-bow, or +longbow, any house-dove or pigeon;" but allowed an alternative fine of +twenty shillings to be paid to the churchwardens of the parish for the +benefit of the poor. Daddy Darwin hoped there was no such alternative in +this case, and it proved that by 2 Geo. III. c. 29, the twenty-shilling +fine was transferred to the owner of birds; at which point another +client called, and the polite lawyer left Daddy to study the laws by +himself. + +It was when Jack as helping Master Shaw to put the horse into the cart, +after the trial was over, that the farmer said to him, "I don't want to +put you about, my lad, but I'm afraid you won't keep your master long. +T'old gentleman's breaking up, mark my words! Constable and me was going +into the _George_ for a glass, and Master Darwin left us and went +back to the office. I says, 'What are ye going back to t' lawyer for?' +and he says, 'I don't mind telling you, Master Shaw, but it's to make my +will.' And off he goes. Now, there's only two more things between that +and death, Jack March! And one's the parson, and t' other's the doctor." + + + +SCENE VIII. + + +Little Phoebe Shaw coming out of the day school, and picking her way +home to tea, was startled by folk running past her, and by a sound of +cheering from the far end of the village, which gradually increased in +volume, and was caught up by the bystanders as they ran. When Phoebe +heard that it was "Constable, and Master Shaw, and Daddy Darwin and his +lad, coming home, and the pigeons along wi' 'em," she felt inclined to +run too; but a fit of shyness came over her, and she demurely decided to +wait by the school-gate till they came her way. They did not come. They +stopped. What were they doing? Another bystander explained, "They're +shaking hands wi' Daddy, and I reckon they're making him put up t' birds +here, to see 'em go home to t' Dovecot." + +Phoebe ran as if for her life. She loved beast and bird as well as Jack +himself, and the fame of Daddy Darwin's doves was great. To see them put +up by him to fly home after such an adventure was a sight not lightly to +be forgone. + +The crowd had moved to a hillock in a neighboring field before she +touched its outskirts. By that time it pretty well numbered the +population of the village, from the oldest inhabitant to the youngest +that could run. Phoebe had her mother's courage and resource. Chirping +out feebly but clearly, "I'm Maester Shaw's little lass, will ye let me +through?" she was passed from hand to hand, till her little fingers +found themselves in Jack's tight clasp, and he fairly lifted her to her +father's side. + +She was just in time. Some of the birds had hung about Jack, nervous, or +expecting peas; but the hesitation was past. Free in the sweet +sunshine--beating down the evening air with silver wings and their +feathers like gold--ignorant of cold eggs and callow young dead in +deserted nests--sped on their way by such a roar as rarely shook the +village in its body corporate--they flew straight home--to Daddy +Darwin's Dovecot. + + + +SCENE IX. + + +Daddy Darwin lived a good many years after making his will, and the +Dovecot prospered in his hands. + +It would be more just to say that it prospered in the hands of Jack +March. + +By hook and by crook he increased the live stock about the place. Folk +were kind to one who had set so excellent an example to other farm lads, +though he lacked the primal virtue of belonging to the neighborhood. He +bartered pigeons for fowls, and some one gave him a sitting of eggs to +"see what he would make of 'em." Master Shaw gave him a little pig, with +kind words and good counsel; and Jack cleaned out the disused pigstys, +which were never disused again. He scrubbed his pigs with soap and water +as if they had been Christians, and the admirable animals regardless of +the pork they were coming to, did him infinite credit, and brought him a +profit into the bargain, which he spent on ducks' eggs, and other +additions to his farmyard family. + +The Shaws were very kind to him; and if Mrs. Shaw's secrets must be +told, it was because Phoebe was so unchangeably and increasingly kind to +him, that she sent the pretty maid (who had a knack of knowing her own +mind about things) to service. + +Jack March was a handsome, stalwart youth now, of irreproachable +conduct, and with qualities which Mrs. Shaw particularly prized; but he +was but a farm-lad, and no match for her daughter. + +Jack only saw his sweetheart once during several years. She had not been +well, and was at home for the benefit of "native air." He walked over +the hill with her as they returned from church, and lived on the +remembrance of that walk for two or three years more. Phoebe had given +him her Prayer-book to carry, and he had found a dead flower in it, and +had been jealous. She had asked if he knew what it was, and he had +replied fiercely that he did not, and was not sure that he cared to +know. + +"Ye never did know much about flowers," said Phoebe, demurely, "it's red +bergamot." + +"I love--red bergamot," he whispered penitently. "And thou owes me a +bit. I gave thee some once." And Phoebe had let him put the withered +bits into his own hymn-book, which was more than he deserved. + +Jack was still in the choir, and taught in the Sunday School where he +used to learn. The parson's daughter had had her own way; Daddy Darwin +grumbled at first, but in the end he got a bottle-green Sunday-coat out +of the oak-press that matched the bedstead, and put the house-key into +his pocket, and went to church too. Now, for years past he had not +failed to take his place, week by week, in the pew that was +traditionally appropriated to the use of the Darwins of Dovecot. In such +an hour the sordid cares of the secret panel weighed less heavily on his +soul, and the things that are not seen came nearer--the house not made +with hands, the treasures that rust and moth corrupt not, and which +thieves do not break through to steal. + +Daddy Darwin died of old age. As his health failed, Jack nursed him with +the tenderness of a woman; and kind inquiries, and dainties which Jack +could not have cooked, came in from many quarters where it pleased the +old man to find that he was held in respect and remembrance. + +One afternoon, coming in from the farmyard, Jack found him sitting by +the kitchen-table as he lad left him, but with a dread look of change +upon his face. At first he feared there had been "a stroke," but Daddy +Darwin's mind was clear and his voice firmer than usual. + +"My lad," he said, "fetch me yon tea-pot out of the corner cupboard. T' +one wi' a pole-house[7] painted on it, and some letters. Take care how +ye shift it. It were t' merry feast-pot[8] at my christening, and yon's +t' letters of my father's and mother's names. Take off t' lid. There's +two bits of paper in the inside." + +[Footnote 7: A _pole-house_ is a small dovecot on the top of a pole.] + +[Footnote 8: "Merry feast-pot" is a name given to old pieces of ware, +made in local potteries for local festivals.] + +Jack did as he was bid, and laid the papers (one small and yellow with +age, the other bigger, and blue, and neatly written upon) at his +master's right hand. + +"Read yon," said the old man, pushing the small one towards him. Jack +took it up wondering. It was the letter he had written from the +workhouse fifteen years before. That was all he could see. The past +surged up too thickly before his eyes, and tossing it impetuously from +him, he dropped on a chair by the table, and snatching Daddy Darwin's +hands he held them to his face with tears. + +"GOD bless thee!" he sobbed. "You've been a good maester to me!" + +"_Daddy_," wheezed the old man. "_Daddy_, not maester." And +drawing his right hand away, he laid it solemnly on the young man's +head. "GOD bless _thee_, and reward thee. What have I done i' my +feckless life to deserve a son? But if ever a lad earned a father and a +home, thou hast earned 'em, Jack March." + +He moved his hand again and laid it trembling on the paper. + +"Every word i' this letter ye've made good. Every word, even to t' bit +at the end. 'I love them tumblers as if they were my own,' says you. +Lift thee head, lad, and look at me. _They are thy own!_... Yon +blue paper's my last will and testament, made many a year back by Mr. +Brown, of Green Street, Solicitor, and a very nice gentleman too; and +witnessed by his clerks, two decent young chaps, and civil enough, but +with too much watchchain for their situation. Jack March, my son, I have +left thee maester of Dovecot and all that I have. And there's a bit of +money in t' bed-head that'll help thee to make a fair start, and to bury +me decently atop of my father and mother. Ye may let Bill Sexton toll an +hour-bell for me, for I'm a old standard, if I never were good for much. +Maybe I might ha' done better if things had happened in a different +fashion; but the Lord knows all. I'd like a hymn at the grave, Jack, if +the Vicar has no objections, and do thou sing if thee can. Don't fret, +my son, thou'fet no cause. Twas that sweet voice o' thine took me back +again to public worship, and it's not t' least of all I owe thee, Jack +March. A poor reason lad, for taking up with a neglected duty--a poor +reason--but the Lord is a GOD of mercy, or there'd be small chance for +most on us. If Miss Jenny and her husband come to t' Vicarage this +summer, say I left her my duty and an old man's blessing; and if she +wants any roots out of t' garden, give 'em her, and give her yon old +chest that stands in the back chamber. It belonged to an uncle of my +mother's--a Derbyshire man. They say her husband's a rich gentleman, and +treats her very well. I reckon she may have what she's a mind, new and +polished, but she's always for old lumber. They're a whimsical lot, +gentle and simple. A talking of _women_, Jack, I've a word to say, +if I can fetch my breath to say it. Lad! as sure as you're maester of +Dovecot, you'll give it a missus. Now take heed to me. If ye fetch any +woman home here but Phoebe Shaw, I'll _walk_, and scare ye away +from t' old place. I'm willing for Phoebe, and I charge ye to tell the +lass so hereafter. And tell her it's not because she's fair--too many on +'em are that; and not because she's thrifty and houseproud--her mother's +that, and she's no favorite of mine; but because I've watched her +whenever t' ould cat 's let her be at home, and it's my belief that she +loves ye, knowing nought of _this_" (he laid his hand upon the +will), "and that she'll stick to ye, choose what her folks may say. Aye, +aye, she's not one of t' sort that quits a falling house--_like +rattens_." + +Language fails to convey the bitterness which the old man put into these +last two words. It exhausted him, and his mind wandered. When he had to +some extent recovered himself he spoke again, but very feebly. + +"Tak' my duty to the Vicar, lad, Daddy Darwin's duty, and say he's at t' +last feather of the shuttle, and would be thankful for the Sacrament." + +The Parson had come and gone. Daddy Darwin did not care to lie down, he +breathed with difficulty; so Jack made him easy in a big armchair, and +raked up the fire with cinders, and took a chair on the other side of +the hearth to watch with him. The old man slept comfortably and at last, +much wearied, the young man dozed also. + +He awoke because Daddy Darwin moved, but for a moment he thought he must +be dreaming. So erect the old man stood, and with such delight in his +wide-open eyes. They were looking over Jack's head. + +All that the lad had never seen upon his face seemed to have come back +to it--youth, hope, resolution, tenderness. His lips were trembling with +the smile of acutest joy. + +Suddenly he stretched out his arms, and crying, "Alice!" started forward +and fell--dead--on the breast of his adopted son. + + * * * * * + +Craw! Craw! Craw! The crows flapped slowly home, and the Gaffers moved +off too. The sun was down, and "damps" are bad for "rheumatics." + +"It's a strange tale," said Gaffer II., "but if all's true ye tell me, +there's not too many like him." + +"That's right enough," Gaffer I. admitted. "He's been t' same all +through, and ye should ha' seen the burying he gave t' old chap. He was +rare and good to him by all accounts, and never gainsaid him ought, +except i' not lifting his voice as he should ha' done at t' grave. Jacks +sings a bass solo as well as any man i' t' place, but he stood yonder, +for all t' world like one of them crows, black o' visage, and black wi' +funeral clothes, and choked with crying like a child i'stead of a man." + +"Well, well, t' old chap were all he had, I reckon," said Gaffer II. + +"_That's_ right enough; and for going backwards, as ye may say, and +setting a wild graff on an old standard, yon will's done well for DADDY +DARWIN'S DOVECOT." + + + + +THE BLIND MAN AND THE TALKING DOG. + + +There was once an old man whom Fortune (whose own eyes are bandaged) had +deprived of his sight. She had taken his hearing also, so that he was +deaf. Poor he had always been, and as Time had stolen his youth and +strength from him, they had only left a light burden for Death to carry +when he should come the old man's way. + +But Love (who is blind also) had given the Blind Man a Dog, who led him +out in the morning to a seat in the sun under the crab-tree, and held +his hat for wayside alms, and brought him safely home at sunset. + +The Dog was wise and faithful--as dogs often are--but the wonder of him +was that he could talk. In which will be seen the difference between +dogs and men, most of whom can talk; whilst it is a matter for +admiration if they are wise and faithful. + +One day the Mayor's little son came down the road, and by the hand he +held his playmate Aldegunda. + +"Give the poor Blind Man a penny," said she. + +"You are always wanting me to give away my money," replied the boy +peevishly. "It is well that my father is the richest man in the town, +and that I have a whole silver crown yet in my pocket." + +But he put the penny into the hat which the Dog held out, and the Dog +gave it to his master. + +"Heaven bless you," said the Blind Man. + +"Amen," said the Dog. + +"Aldegunda! Aldegunda!" cried the boy, dancing with delight. "Here is a +dog who can talk. I would give my silver crown for him. Old man, I say, +old man! Will you sell me your dog for a silver crown?" + +"My master is deaf as well as blind," said the Dog. + +"What a miserable old creature he must be," said the boy +compassionately. + +"Men do not smile when they are miserable, do they?" said the Dog; "and +my master smiles sometimes--when the sun warms right through our coats +to our bones; when he feels the hat shake against his knee as the +pennies drop in; and when I lick his hand." + +"But for all that, he is a poor wretched old beggar, in want of +everything," persisted the boy. "Now I am the Mayor's only son, and he +is the richest man in the town. Come and live with me, and I will give +the Blind Man my silver crown. I should be perfectly happy if I had a +talking dog of my own." + +"It is worth thinking of," said the Dog. "I should certainly like a +master who was perfectly happy. You are sure that there is nothing else +that you wish for?" + +"I wish I were a man," replied the boy. "To do exactly as I chose, and +have plenty of money to spend, and holidays all the year round." + +"That sounds well," said the Dog. "Perhaps I had better wait till you +grow up. There is nothing else that you want, I suppose?" + +"I want a horse," said the boy, "a real black charger. My father ought +to know that I am too old for a hobby-horse. It vexes me to look at it." + +"I must wait for the charger, I see," said the Dog. "Nothing vexes you +but the hobby-horse, I hope?" + +"Aldegunda vexes me more than anything," answered the boy, with an +aggrieved air; "and it's very hard when I am so fond of her. She always +tumbles down when we run races, her legs are so short. It's her birthday +to-day, but she toddles as badly as she did yesterday, though she's a +year older." + +"She will have learned to run by the time that you are a man," said the +Dog. "So nice a little lady can give you no other cause of annoyance, I +am sure?" + +The boy frowned. + +"She is always wanting something. She wants something now, I see. What +do you want, Aldegunda?" + +"I wish--" said Aldegunda, timidly,--"I should like--the blind man to +have the silver crown, and for us to keep the penny, if you can get it +back out of the hat." + +"That's just the way you go on," said the boy, angrily. "You always +think differently from me. Now remember, Aldegunda, I won't marry you +when you grow big, unless you agree with what I do, like the wife in the +story of 'What the Goodman does is sure to be right.'" + +On hearing this Aldegunda sobbed till she burst the strings of her hat, +and the boy had to tie them afresh. + +"I won't marry you at all if you cry," said he. + +But at that she only cried the more, and they went away bickering into +the green lanes. + +As to the old man, he had heard nothing; and when the dog licked his +withered hand he smiled. + +Many a time did the boy return with his playmate to try and get the +Talking Dog. But the Dog always asked if he had yet got all that he +wanted, and, being an honorable child, the boy was too truthful to say +that he was content when he was not. + +"The day that you want nothing more but me I will be your dog," it said. +"Unless, indeed, my present master should have attained perfect +happiness before you." + +"I am not afraid of that," said the boy. + +In time the Mayor died, and his widow moved to her native town and took +her son with her. + +Years passed, and the Blind Man lived on; for when one gets very old and +keeps very quiet in his little corner of the world, Death seems +sometimes to forget to remove him. + +Years passed, and the Mayor's son became a man, and was strong and rich, +and had a fine black charger. Aldegunda grew up also. She was very +beautiful, wonderfully beautiful, and Love (who is blind) gave her to +her old playmate. + +The wedding was a fine one, and when it was over the bridegroom mounted +his black charger and took his bride behind him, and rode away into the +green lanes. + +"Ah, what delight!" he said. "Now we will ride through the town where we +lived when we were children; and if the Blind Man is still alive, you +shall give him a silver crown; and if the Talking Dog is alive, I shall +claim him, for to-day I am perfectly happy and want nothing." + +Aldegunda thought to herself--"We are so happy, and have so much, that I +do not like to take the Blind Man's dog from him;" but she did not dare +to say so. One--if not two--must bear and forbear to be happy even on +one's wedding day. + +By-and-bye they rode under the crab-tree, but the seat was empty. "What +has become of the Blind Man?" the Mayor's son asked of a peasant who was +near. + +"He died two days ago," said the peasant. "He is buried to-day, and the +priest and chanters are now returning from the grave." + +"And the Talking Dog?" asked the young man. + +"He is at the grave now," said the peasant; "but he has neither spoken +nor eaten since his master died." + +"We have come in the nick of time," said the young man triumphantly, and +he rode to the churchyard. + +By the grave was the dog, as the man had said, and up the winding path +came the priest and his young chanters, who sang with shrill, clear +voices--"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." + +"Come and live with me, now your old master is gone," said the young +man, stooping over the dog. But he made no reply. + +"I think he is dead, sir," said the grave-digger. + +"I don't believe it," said the young man fretfully. "He was an Enchanted +Dog, and he promised I should have him when I could say what I am ready +to say now. He should have kept his promise." + +But Aldegunda had taken the dog's cold head into her arms, and her tears +fell fast over it. + +"You forget," she said; "he only promised to come to you when you were +happy, if his old master were not happier first; and, perhaps--" + +"I remember that you always disagree with me," said the young man, +impatiently. "You always did do so. Tears on our wedding-day, too! I +suppose the truth is that no one is happy." + +Aldegunda made no answer, for it is not from those one loves that he +will willingly learn that with a selfish and imperious temper happiness +never dwells. + +And as they rode away again into the green lanes, the shrill voices of +the chanters followed them--"Blessed are the dead. Blessed are the +dead." + + + + +"SO-SO." + + +"Be sure, my child," said the widow to her little daughter, "that you +always do just as you are told." + +"Very well, Mother." + +"Or at any rate do what will do just as well," said the small house-dog, +as he lay blinking at the fire. + +"You darling!" cried little Joan, and she sat down on the hearth and +hugged him. But he got up and shook himself, and moved three turns +nearer the oven, to be out of the way; for though her arms were soft she +had kept her doll in them, and that was made of wood, which hurts. + +"What a dear, kind house-dog you are!" said little Joan, and she meant +what she said, for it does feel nice to have the sharp edges of one's +duty a little softened off for one. + +He was no particular kind of a dog, but he was very smooth to stroke, +and had a nice way of blinking with his eyes, which it was soothing to +see. There had been a difficulty about his name. The name of the +house-dog before him was Faithful, and well it became him, as his +tombstone testified. The one before that was called Wolf. He was very +wild, and ended his days on the gallows, for worrying sheep. The little +house-dog never chased anything, to the widow's knowledge. There was no +reason whatever for giving him a bad name, and she thought of several +good ones, such as Faithful, and Trusty, and Keeper, which are fine +old-fashioned titles, but none of these seemed quite perfectly to suit +him. So he was called So-so; and a very nice soft name it is. + +The widow was only a poor woman, though she contrived by her industry to +keep a decent home together, and to get now one and now another little +comfort for herself and her child. + +One day she was going out on business, and she called her little +daughter and said to her, "I am going out for two hours. You are too +young to protect yourself and the house, and So-so is not as strong as +Faithful was. But when I go, shut the house-door and bolt the big wooden +bar, and be sure that you do not open it for any reason whatever till I +return. If strangers come, So-so may bark, which he can do as well as a +bigger dog. Then they will go away. With this summer's savings I have +bought a quilted petticoat for you and a duffle cloak for myself against +the winter, and if I get the work I am going after to-day, I shall buy +enough wool to knit warm stockings for us both. So be patient till I +return, and then we will have the plumcake that is in the cupboard for +tea." + +"Thank you, Mother." + +"Good-bye, my child. Be sure you do just as I have told you," said the +widow. + +"Very well, Mother." + +Little Joan laid down her doll, and shut the house-door, and fastened +the big bolt. It was very heavy, and the kitchen looked gloomy when she +had done it. + +"I wish Mother had taken us all three with her, and had locked the house +and put the key in her big pocket, as she has done before," said little +Joan, as she got into the rocking-chair, to put her doll to sleep. + +"Yes, it would have done just as well," So-so replied as he stretched +himself on the hearth. + +By-and-bye Joan grew tired of hushabying the doll, who looked none the +sleepier for it, and she took the three-legged stool and sat down in +front of the clock to watch the hands. After a while she drew a deep +sigh. + +"There are sixty seconds in every single minute, So-so," said she. + +"So I have heard," said So-so. He was snuffing in the back place, which +was not usually allowed. + +"And sixty whole minutes in every hour, So-so." + +"You don't say so!" growled So-so. He had not found a bit, and the cake +was on the top shelf. There was not so much as a spilt crumb, though he +snuffed in every corner of the kitchen, till he stood snuffing under the +house-door. + +"The air smells fresh," he said. + +"It's a beautiful day, I know," said little Joan. "I wish Mother had +allowed us to sit on the doorstep. We could have taken care of the +house--" + +"Just as well," said So-so. + +Little Joan came to smell the air at the keyhole, and, as So-so had +said, it smelt very fresh. Besides, one could see from the window how +fine the evening was. + +"It's not exactly what Mother told us to do," said Joan, "but I do +believe--" + +"It would do just as well," said So-so. + +By-and-bye little Joan unfastened the bar, and opened the door, and she +and the doll and So-so went out and sat on the doorstep. + +Not a stranger was to be seen. The sun shone delightfully. An evening +sun, and not too hot. All day it had been ripening the corn in the field +close by, and this glowed and waved in the breeze. + +"It does just as well, and better," said little Joan, "for if anyone +comes we can see him coming up the field-path." + +"Just so," said So-so, blinking in the sunshine. + +Suddenly Joan jumped up. + +"Oh!" cried she, "there's a bird, a big bird. Dear So-so, can you see +him? I can't, because of the sun. What a queer noise he makes. Crake! +crake! Oh, I can see him now! He is not flying, he is running, and he +has gone into the corn. I do wish I were in the corn, I would catch him, +and put him in a cage." + +"I'll catch him," said So-so, and he put up his tail, and started off. + +"No, no!" cried Joan. "You are not to go. You must stay and take care of +the house, and bark if any one comes." + +"You could scream, and that would do just as well," replied So-so, with +his tail still up. + +"No, it wouldn't," cried little Joan. + +"Yes, it would," reiterated So-so. + +Whilst they were bickering, an old woman came up to the door; she had a +brown face, and black hair, and a very old red cloak. + +"Good evening, my little dear," said she. "Are you all at home this fine +evening?" + +"Only three of us," said Joan; "I, and my doll, and So-so. Mother' has +gone to the town on business, and we are taking care of the house, but +So-so wants to go after the bird we saw run into the corn." + +"Was it a pretty bird, my little dear?" asked the old woman. + +"It was a very curious one," said Joan, "and I should like to go after +it myself, but we can't leave the house." + +"Dear, dear! Is there no neighbor would sit on the doorstep for you and +keep the house till you just slip down to the field after the curious +bird?" said the old woman. + +"I'm afraid not," said little Joan. "Old Martha, our neighbor, is now +bedridden. Of course, if she had been able to mind the house instead of +us, it would have done just as well." + +"I have some distance to go this evening," said the old woman, "but I do +not object to a few minutes' rest, and sooner than that you should lose +the bird I will sit on the doorstep to oblige you, while you run down to +the cornfield." + +"But can you bark if any one comes?" asked little Joan. "For if you +can't, So-so must stay with you." + +"I can call you and the dog if I see any one coming, and that will do +just as well," said the old woman. + +"So it will," replied little Joan, and off she ran to the cornfield, +where, for that matter, So-so had run before her, and was bounding and +barking and springing among the wheat stalks. + +They did not catch the bird, though they stayed longer than they had +intended, and though So-so seemed to know more about hunting than was +supposed. + +"I dare say mother has come home," said little Joan, as they went back +up the field-path. "I hope she won't think we ought to have stayed in +the house." + +"It was taken care of," said So-so, "and that must do just as well." + +When they reached the house, the widow had not come home. + +But the old woman had gone, and she had taken the quilted petticoat and +the duffle cloak, and the plum-cake from the top shelf away with her; +and no more was ever heard of any of the lot. + +"For the future, my child," said the widow, "I hope you will always do +just as you are told, whatever So-so may say." + +"I will, Mother," said little Joan (And she did.) But the house-dog sat +and blinked. He dared not speak, he was in disgrace. + +I do not feel quite sure about So-so. Wild dogs often amend their ways +far on this side of the gallows, and the faithful sometimes fall; but +when any one begins by being only So-so, he is very apt to be So-so to +the end. So-sos so seldom change. + +But this one was _very_ soft and nice, and he got no cake that +tea-time. On the whole, we will hope that he lived to be a good dog ever +after. + + + + +THE TRINITY FLOWER. + +A LEGEND. + + + "Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own + The wiser love severely kind: + Since, richer for its chastening grown, + I see, whereas I once was blind." + _The Clear Vision, J. G. Whittler_ + + +In days of yore there was once a certain hermit, who dwelt in a cell, +which he had fashioned for himself from a natural cave in the side of a +hill. + +Now this hermit had a great love for flowers, and was moreover learned +in the virtues of herbs, and in that great mystery of healing which lies +hidden among the green things of God. And so it came to pass that the +country people from all parts came to him for the simples which grew in +the little garden which he had made before his cell. And as his fame +spread, and more people came to him, he added more and more to the plat +which he had reclaimed from the waste land around. + +But after many years there came a spring when the colors of the flowers +seemed paler to the hermit than they used to be; and as summer drew on +their shapes became indistinct, and he mistook one plant for another; +and when autumn came, he told them by their various scents, and by their +form, rather than by sight; and when the flowers were gone, and winter +had come, the hermit was quite blind. + +Now in the hamlet below there lived a boy who had become known to the +hermit on this manner. On the edge of the hermit's garden there grew two +crab trees, from the fruit of which he made every year a certain +confection which was very grateful to the sick. One year many of these +crab-apples were stolen, and the sick folk of the hamlet had very little +conserve. So the following year, as the fruit was ripening, the hermit +spoke every day to those who came to his cell, saying:-- + +"I pray you, good people, to make it known that he who robs these crab +trees, robs not me alone, which is dishonest, but the sick, which is +inhuman." + +And yet once more the crab-apples were taken. + +The following evening, as the hermit sat on the side of the hill, he +overheard two boys disputing about the theft. + +"It must either have been a very big man, or a small boy to do it," said +one. "So I say, and I have my reason." + +"And what is thy reason, Master Wiseacre?" asked the other. + +"The fruit is too high to be plucked except by a very big man," said the +first boy. "And the branches are not strong enough for any but a child +to climb." + +"Canst thou think of no other way to rob an apple-tree but by standing +a-tip-toe, or climbing up to the apples, when they should come down to +thee?" said the second boy. "Truly thy head will never save thy heels; +but here's a riddle for thee: + + "Riddle me riddle me re, + Four big brothers are we; + We gather the fruit, but climb never a tree. + +"Who are they?" + +"Four tall robbers, I suppose," said the other. + +"Tush!" cried his comrade. "They are the four winds; and when they +whistle, down falls the ripest. But others can shake besides the winds, +as I will show thee if thou hast any doubts in the matter." + +And as he spoke he sprang to catch the other boy, who ran from him; and +they chased each other down the hill, and the hermit heard no more. + +But as he turned to go home he said, "The thief was not far away when +thou stoodst near. Nevertheless, I will have patience. It needs not that +I should go to seek thee, for what saith the Scripture? _Thy sin_ +will find thee out." And he made conserve of such apples as were left, +and said nothing. + +Now after a certain time a plague broke out in the hamlet; and it was so +sore, and there were so few to nurse the many who were sick, that, +though it was not the wont of the hermit ever to leave his place, yet in +their need he came down and ministered to the people in the village. And +one day, as he passed a certain house, he heard moans from within, and +entering, he saw lying upon a bed a boy who tossed and moaned in fever, +and cried out most miserably that his throat was parched and burning. +And when the hermit looked upon his face, behold it was the boy who had +given the riddle of the four winds upon the side of the hill. + +Then the hermit fed him with some of the confection which he had with +him, and it was so grateful to the boy's parched palate, that he thanked +and blessed the hermit aloud, and prayed him to leave a morsel of it +behind, to soothe his torments in the night. + +Then said the hermit, "My Son, I would that I had more of this +confection, for the sake of others as well as for thee. But indeed I +have only two trees which bear the fruit whereof this is made; and in +two successive years have the apples been stolen by some thief, thereby +robbing not only me, which is dishonest, but the poor, which is +inhuman." + +Then the boy's theft came back to his mind, and he burst into tears, and +cried, "My Father, I took the crab-apples!" + +And after awhile he recovered his health; the plague also abated in the +hamlet, and the hermit went back to his cell. But the boy would +thenceforth never leave him, always wishing to show his penitence and +gratitude. And though the hermit sent him away, he ever returned, +saying, + +"Of what avail is it to drive me from thee, since I am resolved to serve +thee, even as Samuel served Eli, and Timothy ministered unto St. Paul?" + +But the hermit said, "My rule is to live alone, and without companions; +wherefore begone." + +And when the boy still came, he drove him from the garden. + +Then the boy wandered far and wide, over moor and bog, and gathered rare +plants and herbs, and laid them down near the hermit's cell. And when +the hermit was inside, the boy came into the garden, and gathered the +stones and swept the paths, and tied up such plants as were drooping, +and did all neatly and well, for he was a quick and skilful lad. And +when the hermit said, + +"Thou hast done well, and I thank thee; but now begone," he only +answered, + +"What avails it, when I am resolved to serve thee?" + +So at last there came a day when the hermit said, "It may be that it is +ordained; wherefore abide, my Son." + +And the boy answered, "Even so, for I am resolved to serve thee." + +Thus he remained. And thenceforward the hermit's garden throve as it had +never thriven before. For, though he had skill, the hermit was old and +feeble; but the boy was young and active, and he worked hard, and it was +to him a labor of love. And being a clever boy, he quickly knew the +names and properties of the plants as well as the hermit himself. And +when he was not working, he would go far afield to seek for new herbs. +And he always returned to the village at night. + +Now when the hermit's sight began to fail, the boy put him right if he +mistook one plant for another; and when the hermit became quite blind, +he relied completely upon the boy to gather for him the herbs that he +wanted. And when anything new was planted, the boy led the old man to +the spot, that he might know that it was so many paces in such a +direction from the cell, and might feel the shape and texture of the +leaves, and learn its scent. And through the skill and knowledge of the +boy, the hermit was in no wise hindered from preparing his accustomed +remedies, for he knew the names and virtues of the herbs, and where +every plant grew. And when the sun shone, the boy would guide his +master's steps into the garden, and would lead him up to certain +flowers; but to those which had a perfume of their own the old man could +go without help, being guided by the scent. And as he fingered their +leaves and breathed their fragrance, he would say, "Blessed be GOD for +every herb of the field, but thrice blessed for those that smell." + +And at the end of the garden was a set bush of rosemary. "For," said the +hermit, "to this we must all come." Because rosemary is the herb they +scatter over the dead. And he knew where almost everything grew, and +what he did not know the boy told him. + +Yet for all this, and though he had embraced poverty and solitude with +joy, in the service of GOD and man, yet so bitter was blindness to him, +that he bewailed the loss of his sight, with a grief that never +lessened. + +"For," said he, "if it had pleased our Lord to send me any other +affliction, such as a continual pain or a consuming sickness, I would +have borne it gladly, seeing it would have left me free to see these +herbs, which I use for the benefit of the poor. But now the sick suffer +through my blindness, and to this boy also I am a continual burden." + +And when the boy called him at the hours of prayer, saying, "My Father, +it is now time for the Nones office, for the marygold is closing," or +"The Vespers bell will soon sound from the valley, for the bindweed +bells are folded," and the hermit recited the appointed prayers, he +always added, + +"I beseech Thee take away my blindness, as Thou didst heal Thy servant +the son of Timaeus." + +And as the boy and he sorted herbs, he cried, + +"Is there no balm in Gilead?" + +And the boy answered, "The balm of Gilead grows six full paces from the +gate, my Father." + +But the hermit said, "I spoke in a figure, my son I meant not that herb. +But, alas! Is there no remedy to heal the physician? No cure for the +curer?" + +And the boy's heart grew heavier day by day, because of the hermit's +grief. For he loved him. + +Now one morning as the boy came up from the village, the hermit met him, +groping painfully with his hands, but with joy in his countenance, and +he said, "Is that thy step, my son? Come in, for I have somewhat to tell +thee." + +And he said, "A vision has been vouchsafed to me, even a dream. +Moreover, I believe that there shall be a cure for my blindness." Then +the boy was glad, and begged of the hermit to relate his dream, which he +did as follows:-- + +"I dreamed, and behold I stood in the garden--thou also with me--and +many people were gathered at the gate, to whom, with thy help, I gave +herbs of healing in such fashion as I have been able since this +blindness came upon me. And when they were gone, I smote upon my +forehead, and said, 'Where is the herb that shall heal my affliction?' +And a voice beside me said, 'Here, my son,' And I cried to thee, 'Who +spoke?' And thou saidst, 'It is a man in pilgrim's weeds, and lo, he +hath a strange flower in his hand.' Then said the Pilgrim, 'It is a +Trinity Flower. Moreover, I suppose that when thou hast it, thou wilt +see clearly.' Then I thought that thou didst take the flower from the +Pilgrim and put it in my hand. And lo, my eyes were opened, and I saw +clearly. And I knew the Pilgrim's face, though where I have seen him I +cannot yet recall. But I believed him to be Raphael the Archangel--he +who led Tobias, and gave sight to his father. And even as it came to me +to know him, he vanished; and I saw him no more." + +"And what was the Trinity Flower like, my Father?" asked the boy. + +"It was about the size of Herb Paris, my son," replied the hermit. "But +instead of being fourfold every way, it numbered the mystic Three. Every +part was threefold. The leaves were three, the petals three, the sepals +three. The flower was snow-white, but on each of the three parts it was +stained with crimson stripes, like white garments dyed in blood." +[Footnote: _Trillium erythrocarpum._ North America.] + +Then the boy started up, saying, "If there be such a plant on the earth +I will find it for thee." + +But the hermit laid his hand on him, and said, "Nay, my son, leave me +not, for I have need of thee. And the flower will come yet, and then I +shall see." + +And all day long the old man murmured to himself, "Then I shall see." + +"And didst thou see me, and the garden, in thy dream, my Father?" asked +the boy. + +"Ay, that I did, my son. And I meant to say to thee that it much +pleaseth me that thou art grown so well, and of such a strangely fair +countenance. Also the garden is such as I have never before beheld it, +which must needs be due to thy care. But wherefore didst thou not tell +me of those fair palms that have grown where the thorn hedge was wont to +be? I was but just stretching out my hand for some, when I awoke." + +"There are no palms there, my Father," said the boy. + +"Now, indeed it is thy youth that makes thee so little observant," said +the hermit. "However, I pardon thee, if it were only for that good +thought which moved thee to plant a yew beyond the rosemary bush; seeing +that the yew is the emblem of eternal life, which lies beyond the +grave." + +But the boy said, "There is no yew there, my Father." + +"Have I not seen it, even in a vision?" cried the hermit. "Thou wilt say +next that all the borders are not set with heart's-ease, which indeed +must be through thy industry; and whence they come I know not, but they +are most rare and beautiful, and my eyes long sore to see them again." + +"Alas, my Father!" cried the boy, "the borders are set with rue, and +there are but a few clumps of heart's-ease here and there." + +"Could I forget what I saw in an hour?" asked the old man, angrily. "And +did not the holy Raphael himself point to them, saying, 'Blessed are the +eyes that behold this garden, where the borders are set with +heart's-ease, and the hedges crowned with palm!' But thou wouldst know +better than an archangel, forsooth." + +Then the boy wept; and when the hermit heard him weeping, he put his arm +round him and said, + +"Weep not, my dear son. And I pray thee, pardon me that I spoke harshly +to thee. For indeed I am ill-tempered by reason of my infirmities; and +as for thee, GOD will reward thee for thy goodness to me, as I never +can. Moreover, I believe it is thy modesty, which is as great as thy +goodness, that hath hindered thee from telling me of all that thou hast +done for my garden, even to those fair and sweet everlasting flowers, +the like of which I never saw before, which thou hast set in the east +border, and where even now I hear the bees humming in the sun." + +Then the boy looked sadly out into the garden, and answered, "I cannot +lie to thee. There are no everlasting flowers. It is the flowers of the +thyme in which the bees are rioting. And in the hedge bottom there +creepeth the bitter-sweet." + +But the hermit heard him not. He had groped his way out into the +sunshine, and wandered up and down the walks, murmuring to himself, +"Then I shall see." + +Now when the Summer was past, one autumn morning there came to the +garden gate a man in pilgrim's weeds; and when he saw the boy he +beckoned to him, and giving him a small tuber root, he said, + +"Give this to thy master. It is the root of the Trinity Flower." + +And he passed on down towards the valley. + +Then the boy ran hastily to the hermit; and when he had told him, and +given him the root, he said, + +"The face of the pilgrim is known to me also, O my Father! For I +remember when I lay sick of the plague, that ever it seemed to me as if +a shadowy figure passed in and out, and went up and down the streets, +and his face was as the face of this pilgrim. But--I cannot deceive +thee--methought it was the Angel of Death." + +Then the hermit mused; and after a little space he answered, + +"It was then also that I saw him. I remember now. Nevertheless, let us +plant the root, and abide what GOD shall send." + +And thus they did. + +And as the Autumn and Winter went by, the hermit became very feeble, but +the boy constantly cheered him, saying, "Patience, my Father. Thou shalt +see yet!" + +But the hermit replied, "My son, I repent me that I have not been +patient under affliction. Moreover, I have set thee an ill example, in +that I have murmured at that which GOD--Who knowest best--ordained for +me." + +And when the boy ofttimes repeated, "Thou shalt yet see," the hermit +answered, "If GOD will. When GOD will. As GOD will." + +And when he said the prayers for the Hours, he no longer added what he +had added beforetime, but evermore repeated, "If THOU wilt. When THOU +wilt. As THOU wilt!" + +And so the Winter passed; and when the snow lay on the ground the boy +and the hermit talked of the garden; and the boy no longer contradicted +the old man, though he spoke continually of the heart's-ease, and the +everlasting flowers, and the palm. For he said, "When Spring comes I may +be able to get these plants, and fit the garden to his vision." + +And at length the Spring came. And with it rose the Trinity Flower. And +when the leaves unfolded, they were three, as the hermit had said. Then +the boy was wild with joy and with impatience. + +And when the sun shone for two days together, he would kneel by the +flower, and say, "I pray thee, Lord, send showers, that it may wax +apace." And when it rained, he said, "I pray Thee, send sunshine, that +it may blossom speedily." For he knew not what to ask. And he danced +about the hermit, and cried, "Soon shalt them see." + +But the hermit trembled, and said, "Not as I will, but as THOU wilt!" + +And so the bud formed. And at length one evening before he went down to +the hamlet, the boy came to the hermit and said, "The bud is almost +breaking, my Father. To-morrow thou shalt see." + +Then the hermit moved his hands till he laid them on the boy's head, and +he said, + +"The Lord repay thee sevenfold for all thou hast done for me, dear +child. And now I pray thee, my son, give me thy pardon for all in which +I have sinned against thee by word or deed, for indeed my thoughts of +thee have ever been tender." And when the boy wept, the hermit still +pressed him, till he said that he forgave him. And as they unwillingly +parted, the hermit said, "I pray thee, dear son, to remember that, +though late, I conformed myself to the will of GOD." + +Saying which, the hermit went into his cell, and the boy returned to the +village. + +But so great was his anxiety, that he could not rest; and he returned to +the garden ere it was light, and sat by the flower till the dawn. + +And with the first dim light he saw that the Trinity Flower was in +bloom. And as the hermit had said, it was white, and stained with +crimson as with blood. + +Then the boy shed tears of joy, and he plucked the flower and ran into +the hermit's cell, where the hermit lay very still upon his couch. And +the boy said, "I will not disturb him. When he wakes he will find the +flower." And he went out and sat down outside the cell and waited. And +being weary as he waited, he fell asleep. + +Now before sunrise, whilst it was yet early, he was awakened by the +voice of the hermit crying, "My son, my dear son!" and he jumped up, +saying, "My Father!" + +But as he spoke the hermit passed him. And as he passed he turned, and +the boy saw that his eyes were open. And the hermit fixed them long and +tenderly on him. + +Then the boy cried, "Ah, tell me, my Father, dost thou see?" + +And he answered, _"I see now!"_ and so passed on down the walk. + +And as he went through the garden, in the still dawn, the boy trembled, +for the hermit's footsteps gave no sound. And he passed beyond the +rosemary bush, and came not again. + +And when the day wore on, and the hermit did not return, the boy went +into his cell. + +Without, the sunshine dried the dew from paths on which the hermit's +feet had left no prints, and cherished the spring flowers bursting into +bloom. But within, the hermit's dead body lay stretched upon his pallet, +and the Trinity Flower was in his hand. + + + + +THE KYRKEGRIM TURNED PREACHER. + +A LEGEND. + + +It is said that in Norway every church has its own Niss, or Brownie. + +They are of the same race as the Good People, who haunt farm houses, and +do the maids' work for a pot of cream. They are the size of a year-old +child, but their faces are the faces of aged men. Their common dress is +of gray home-spun, with red peaked caps; but on Michaelmas Day they wear +round hats. + +The Church Niss is called Kyrkegrim. His duty is to keep the church +clean, and to scatter the marsh-marigold flowers on the floor before +service. He also keeps order in the congregation, pinches those who fall +asleep, cuffs irreverent boys, and hustles mothers with crying children +out of church as quickly and decorously as possible. + +But his business is not with church-brawlers alone. + +When the last snow avalanche has slipped from the high-pitched roof, and +the gentian is bluer than the sky, and Baldur's Eyebrow blossoms in the +hot Spring sun, pious folk are wont to come to church some time before +service, and to bring their spades, and rakes, and watering-pots with +them, to tend the graves of the dead. The Kyrkegrim sits on the Lych +Gate and overlooks them. + +At those who do not lay by their tools in good time he throws pebbles, +crying to each, _"Skynde dig!"_ (Make haste!), and so drives them +in. And when the bells begin, should any man fail to bow to the church +as the custom is, the Kyrkegrim snatches his hat from behind, and he +sees it no more. + +Nothing displeases the Kyrkegrim more than when people fall asleep +during the sermon. This will be seen in the following story. + +Once upon a time there was a certain country church, which was served by +a very mild and excellent priest, and haunted by a most active +Kyrkegrim. + +Not a speck of dust was to be seen from the altar to the porch, and the +behavior of the congregation was beyond reproach. + +But there was one fat farmer who slept during the sermon, and do what +the Kyrkegrim would, he could not keep him awake. Again and again did he +pinch him, nudge him, or let in a cold draught of wind upon his neck. +The fat farmer shook himself, pulled up his neck-kerchief, and dozed off +again. + +"Doubtless the fault is in my sermons," said the priest, when the +Kyrkegrim complained to him. For he was humble-minded. + +But the Kyrkegrim knew that this was not the case, for there was no +better preacher in all the district. + +And yet when he overheard the farmer's sharp-tongued little wife speak +of this and that in the discourse, he began to think it might be so. No +doubt the preacher spoke somewhat fast or slow, a little too loud or too +soft. And he was not "stirring" enough, said the farmer's wife; a +failing which no one had ever laid at her door. + +"His soul is in my charge," sighed the good priest, "and I cannot even +make him hear what I have got to say. A heavy reckoning will be demanded +of me!" + +"The sermons are in fault, beyond a doubt," the Kyrkegrim said. "The +farmer's wife is quite right. She's a sensible woman, and can use a mop +as well as myself." + +"Hoot, hoot!" cried the church owl, pushing his head out of the +ivy-bush. "And shall she be Kyrkegrim when thou art turned preacher, and +the preacher sits on the judgment seat? Not so, little Miss! Dust thou +the pulpit, and leave the parson to preach, and let the Maker of souls +reckon with them." + +"If the preacher cannot keep the people awake, it is time that another +took his place," said the Kyrkegrim. + +"He is not bound to find ears as well as arguments," retorted the owl, +and he drew back into his ivy-bush. + +But the Kyrkegrim settled his red cap firmly on his head, and betook +himself to the priest, whose meekness (as is apt to be the case) +encouraged the opposite qualities in those with whom he had to do. + +"The farmer must be roused somehow," said he. "It is a disgrace to us +all, and what, in all the hundreds of years I have been Kyrkegrim, never +befell me before. It will be well if next Sunday you preach a stirring +sermon on some very important subject." + +So the preacher preached on Sin--fair of flower, and bitter of +fruit!--and as he preached his own cheeks grew pale for other men's +perils, and the Kyrkegrim trembled as he sat listening in the porch, +though he had no soul to lose. + +"Was that stirring enough?" he asked, twitching the sleeve of the +farmer's wife as she flounced out after service. + +"Splendid!" said she, "and must have hit some folk pretty hard too." + +"It kept your husband awake this time, I should think," said the +Kyrkegrim. + +"Heighty teighty!" cried the farmer's wife. "I'd have you to know my +good man is as decent a body as any in the parish, if he does take a nap +on Sundays! He is no sinner if he is no saint, thank Heaven, and the +parson knows better than to preach at him." + +"Next Sunday," said the Kyrkegrim to the priest, "preach about something +which concerns every one; respectable people as well as others." + +So the preacher preached of Death--whom tears cannot move, nor riches +bribe, nor power defy. The uncertain interruption and the only certain +end of all life's labors! And as he preached, the women sitting in their +seats wept for the dead whose graves they had been tending, and down the +aged cheeks of the Kyrkegrim there stole tears of pity for poor men, +whose love and labors are cut short so soon. + +But the farmer slept as before. + +"Do you not expect to die?" asked the Kyrkegrim. + +"Surely," replied the farmer, "we must all die some day, and one does +not need a preacher to tell him that. But it was a funeral sermon, my +wife thinks. There has been bereavement in the miller's family." + +"Men are a strange race," thought the Kyrkegrim; but he went to the +priest and said--"The farmer is not afraid of death. You must find some +subject of which men really stand in awe." + +So when Sunday came round again, the preacher preached of judgment--that +dread Avenger who dogs the footsteps of trespass, even now! That awful +harvest of whirlwind and corruption which they must reap who sow to the +wind and to the flesh! Lightly regarded, but biding its time, till a +man's forgotten follies find him out at last. + +But the farmer slept on. He did not wake when the preacher spoke of +judgment to come, the reckoning that cannot be shunned, the trump of the +Archangel, and the Day of Doom. + +"On Michaelmas Day I shall preach myself," said the Kyrkegrim, "and if I +cannot rouse him, I shall give up my charge here." + +This troubled the poor priest, for so good a Kyrkegrim was not likely to +be found again. + +Nevertheless he consented, for he was very meek, and when Michaelmas Day +came the Kyrkegrim pulled a preacher's gown over his homespun coat, and +laid his round hat on the desk by the iron-clamped Bible, and began his +sermon. + +"I shall give no text," said he, "but when I have said what seems good +to me, it is for those who hear to see if the Scriptures bear me out." + +This was an uncommon beginning, and most of the good folk pricked their +ears, the farmer among them, for novelty is agreeable in church as +elsewhere. + +"I speak," said the Kyrkegrim, "of that which is the last result of sin, +the worst of deaths, and the beginning of judgment--hardness of heart." + +The farmer looked a little uncomfortable, and the Kyrkegrim went bravely +on. + +"Let us seek examples in Scripture. We will speak of Pharaoh." + +But when the Kyrkegrim spoke of Pharaoh the farmer was at ease again. +And by-and-bye a film stole gently before his eyes, and he nodded in his +seat. + +This made the Kyrkegrim very angry, for he did not wish to give up his +place, and yet a Niss may not break his word. + +"Let us look at the punishment of Pharaoh," he cried. But the farmer's +eyes were still closed and the Kyrkegrim became agitated, and turned +hastily over the leaves of the iron-clamped Bible before him. + +"We will speak of the plagues," said he. "The plague of blood, the +plague of frogs, the plague of lice, the plague of flies--" + +At this moment the farmer snored. + +For a brief instant, anger and dismay kept the Kyrkegrim silent. Then +shutting the iron clamps he pushed the Book on one side, and scrambling +on to a stool, stretched his little body well over the desk, and said, +"But these flies were as nothing to the fly that is coming in the +turnip-crop!" + +The words were hardly out of his mouth when the farmer sat suddenly +upright, and half rising from his place, cried anxiously, "Eh, what sir? +What does he say, wife? A new fly among the turnips?" + +"Ah, soul of clay!" yelled the indignant Kyrkegrim, as he hurled his +round hat at the gaping farmer. "Is it indeed for such as thee that +Eternal Life is kept in store?" + +And drawing the preacher's gown over his head, he left it in the pulpit, +and scrambling down the steps hastened out of church. + + * * * * * + +As he had been successful in rousing the sleepy farmer the Kyrkegrim did +not abandon his duties; but it is said that thenceforward he kept to +them alone, and left heavier responsibilities in higher hands. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and +Other Stories, by Juliana Horatio Ewing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACKANAPES, DADDY DARWIN'S *** + +***** This file should be named 7865-8.txt or 7865-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/6/7865/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and Other Stories + +Author: Juliana Horatio Ewing + +Release Date: May 24, 2007 [EBook #7865] +[This file was first posted in etext 05 as 8jckn10h.htm on May 28, 2003 +and updated in April, 2005 ] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACKANAPES, DADDY DARWIN'S *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>JACKANAPES</h1> + +<h1>DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOT</h1> + +<h2>AND OTHER STORIES</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>By</h3> + +<h2>JULIANA HORATIO EWING.</h2> +<p> </p> +<h4>with</h4> + +<h3>Illustrations </h3> +<p> </p> +<h4>By</h4> + +<h2>Randolph<br /> Caldecott</h2> +<p> </p> +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/002.png"><img src="images/002th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "If I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her<br> + favors, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a<br> + Jackanapes, never off!" +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + KING HENRY V, Act 5, Scene 2. +</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>JACKANAPES</H2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p class="ind"> + Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,<br> + Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,<br> + The midnight brought the signal sound of strife,<br> + The morn the marshalling in arms--the day<br> + Battle's magnificently stern array!<br> + The thunder clouds close o'er it, which when rent<br> + The earth is covered thick with other clay,<br> + Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,<br> + Rider and horse:--friend, foe,--in one red burial blent. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine:<br> + Yet one would I select from that proud throng.<br> + ----to thee, to thousands, of whom each<br> + And one as all a ghastly gap did make<br> + In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach<br> + Forgetfuluess were mercy for their sake;<br> + The Archangel's trump, not glory's, must awake<br> + Those whom they thirst for.<br> + --BYRON. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/005.png"><img src="images/005th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +Two Donkeys and the Geese lived on the Green, and all other residents of +any social standing lived in houses round it. The houses had no names. +Everybody's address was, "The Green," but the Postman and the people of +the place knew where each family lived. As to the rest of the world, +what has one to do with the rest of the world, when he is safe at home +on his own Goose Green? Moreover, if a stranger did come on any lawful +business, he might ask his way at the shop. +</p> + +<p> +Most of the inhabitants were long-lived, early deaths (like that of the +little Miss Jessamine) being exceptional; and most of the old people +were proud of their age, especially the sexton, who would be ninety-nine +come Martinmas, and whose father remembered a man who had carried +arrows, as a boy, for the battle of Flodden Field. The Grey Goose and +the big Miss Jessamine were the only elderly persons who kept their ages +secret. Indeed, Miss Jessamine never mentioned any one's age, or +recalled the exact year in which anything had happened. She said that +she had been taught that it was bad manners to do so "in a mixed +assembly." +</p> + +<p> +The Grey Goose also avoided dates, but this was partly because her +brain, though intelligent, was not mathematical, and computation was +beyond her. She never got farther than "last Michaelmas," "the +Michaelmas before that," and "the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas +before that." After this her head, which was small, became confused, and +she said, "Ga, ga!" and changed the subject. +</p> + +<p> +But she remembered the little Miss Jessamine, the Miss Jessamine with +the "conspicuous" hair. Her aunt, the big Miss Jessamine, said it was +her only fault. The hair was clean, was abundant, was glossy, but do +what you would with it, it never looked like other people's. And at +church, after Saturday night's wash, it shone like the best brass fender +after a Spring cleaning. In short, it was conspicuous, which does not +become a young woman--especially in church. +</p> + +<p> +Those were worrying times altogether, and the Green was used for strange +purposes. A political meeting was held on it with the village Cobbler in +the chair, and a speaker who came by stage coach from the town, where +they had wrecked the bakers' shops, and discussed the price of bread. He +came a second time, by stage, but the people had heard something about +him in the meanwhile, and they did not keep him on the Green. They took +him to the pond and tried to make him swim, which he could not do, and +the whole affair was very disturbing to all quiet and peaceable fowls. +After which another man came, and preached sermons on the Green, and a +great many people went to hear him; for those were "trying times," and +folk ran hither and thither for comfort. And then what did they do but +drill the ploughboys on the Green, to get them ready to fight the +French, and teach them the goose-step! However, that came to an end at +last, for Bony was sent to St. Helena, and the ploughboys were sent back +to the plough. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody lived in fear of Bony in those days, especially the naughty +children, who were kept in order during the day by threats of, "Bony +shall have you," and who had nightmares about him in the dark. They +thought he was an Ogre in a cocked hat. The Grey Goose thought he was a +fox, and that all the men of England were going out in red coats to hunt +him. It was no use to argue the point, for she had a very small head, +and when one idea got into it there was no room for another. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, the Grey Goose never saw Bony, nor did the children, which +rather spoilt the terror of him, so that the Black Captain became more +effective as a Bogy with hardened offenders. The Grey Goose remembered +<i>his</i> coming to the place perfectly. What he came for she did not +pretend to know. It was all part and parcel of the war and bad times. He +was called the Black Captain, partly because of himself, and partly +because of his wonderful black mare. Strange stories were afloat of how +far and how fast that mare could go, when her master's hand was on her +mane and he whispered in her ear. Indeed, some people thought we might +reckon ourselves very lucky if we were not out of the frying-pan into +the fire, and had not got a certain well-known Gentleman of the Road to +protect us against the French. But that, of course, made him none the +less useful to the Johnson's Nurse, when the little Miss Johnsons were +naughty. +</p> + +<p> +"You leave off crying this minnit, Miss Jane, or I'll give you right +away to that horrid wicked officer. Jemima! just look out o' the windy, +if you please, and see if the Black Cap'n's a-coming with his horse to +carry away Miss Jane." +</p> + +<p> +And there, sure enough, the Black Captain strode by, with his sword +clattering as if it did not know whose head to cut off first. But he did +not call for Miss Jane that time. He went on to the Green, where he came +so suddenly upon the eldest Master Johnson, sitting in a puddle on +purpose, in his new nankeen skeleton suit, that the young gentleman +thought judgment had overtaken him at last, and abandoned himself to the +howlings of despair. His howls were redoubled when he was clutched from +behind and swung over the Black Captain's shoulder, but in five minutes +his tears were stanched, and he was playing with the officer's +accoutrements. All of which the Grey Goose saw with her own eyes, and +heard afterwards that that bad boy had been whining to go back to the +Black Captain ever since, which showed how hardened he was, and that +nobody but Bonaparte himself could be expected to do him any good. +</p> + +<p> +But those were "trying times." It was bad enough when the pickle of a +large and respectable family cried for the Black Captain; when it came +to the little Miss Jessamine crying for him, one felt that the sooner +the French landed and had done with it the better. +</p> + +<p> +The big Miss Jessamine's objection to him was that he was a soldier, and +this prejudice was shared by all the Green. "A soldier," as the speaker +from the town had observed, "is a bloodthirsty, unsettled sort of a +rascal; that the peaceable, home-loving, bread-winning citizen can never +conscientiously look on as a brother, till he has beaten his sword into +a ploughshare, and his spear into a pruning-hook." +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand there was some truth in what the Postman (an old +soldier) said in reply; that the sword has to cut a way for us out of +many a scrape into which our bread-winners get us when they drive their +ploughshares into fallows that don't belong to them. Indeed, whilst our +most peaceful citizens were prosperous chiefly by means of cotton, of +sugar, and of the rise and fall of the money-market (not to speak of +such salable matters as opium, firearms, and "black ivory"), +disturbances were apt to arise in India, Africa and other outlandish +parts, where the fathers of our domestic race were making fortunes for +their families. And, for that matter, even on the Green, we did not wish +the military to leave us in the lurch, so long as there was any fear +that the French were coming. [<a href="#f1">1</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f1">1.</a> "'The political men declare +war, and generally for commercial interests; but when the nation is thus +embroiled with its neighbors the soldier ... draws the sword, at the +command of his country.... One word as to thy comparison of military and +commercial persons. What manner of men be they who have supplied the +Caffres with the firearms and ammunition to maintain their savage and +deplorable wars? Assuredly they are not military.... Cease then, if thou +would'st be counted among the just, to vilify soldiers."--W. Napier, +Lieut. General, <i>November</i>, 1851. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<b>II</b> +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/011.png"><img src="images/011th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +To let the Black Captain have little Miss Jessamine, however, was +another matter. Her Aunt would not hear of it; and then, to crown all, +it appeared that the Captain's father did not think the young lady good +enough for his son. Never was any affair more clearly brought to a +conclusion. But those were "trying times;" and one moon-light night, +when the Grey Goose was sound asleep upon one leg, the Green was rudely +shaken under her by the thud of a horse's feet. "Ga, ga!" said she, +putting down the other leg, and running away. +</p> + +<p> +By the time she returned to her place not a thing was to be seen or +heard. The horse had passed like a shot. But next day, there was +hurrying and skurrying and cackling at a very early hour, all about the +white house with the black beams, where Miss Jessamine lived. And when +the sun was so low, and the shadows so long on the grass that the Grey +Goose felt ready to run away at the sight of her own neck, little Miss +Jane Johnson, and her "particular friend" Clarinda, sat under the big +oak-tree on the Green, and Jane pinched Clarinda's little finger till +she found that she could keep a secret, and then she told her in +confidence that she had heard from Nurse and Jemima that Miss +Jessamine's niece had been a very naughty girl, and that that horrid +wicked officer had come for her on his black horse, and carried her +right away. +</p> + +<p> +"Will she never come back?" asked Clarinda. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no!" said Jane decidedly. "Bony never brings people back." +</p> + +<p> +"Not never no more?" sobbed Clarinda, for she was weak-minded, and could +not bear to think that Bony never, never let naughty people go home +again. +</p> + +<p> +Next day Jane had heard more. +</p> + +<p> +"He has taken her to a Green?" +</p> + +<p> +"A Goose Green?" asked Clarinda. +</p> + +<p> +"No. A Gretna Green. Don't ask so many questions, child," said Jane; +who, having no more to tell, gave herself airs. +</p> + +<p> +Jane was wrong on one point. Miss Jessamine's niece did come back, and +she and her husband were forgiven. The Grey Goose remembered it well, it +was Michaelmastide, the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas before the +Michaelmas--but ga, ga! What does the date matter? It was autumn, +harvest-time, and everybody was so busy prophesying and praying about +the crops, that the young couple wandered through the lanes, and got +blackberries for Miss Jessamine's celebrated crab and blackberry jam, +and made guys of themselves with bryony-wreaths, and not a soul troubled +his head about them, except the children, and the Postman. The children +dogged the Black Captain's footsteps (his bubble reputation as an Ogre +having burst), clamoring for a ride on the black mare. And the Postman +would go somewhat out of his postal way to catch the Captain's dark eye, +and show that he had not forgotten how to salute an officer. +</p> + +<p> +But they were "trying times." One afternoon the black mare was stepping +gently up and down the grass, with her head at her master's shoulder, +and as many children crowded on to her silky back as if she had been an +elephant in a menagerie; and the next afternoon she carried him away, +sword and <i>sabre-tache</i> clattering war-music at her side, and the +old Postman waiting for them, rigid with salutation, at the four cross +roads. +</p> + +<p> +War and bad times! It was a hard winter, and the big Miss Jessamine and +the little Miss Jessamine (but she was Mrs. Black-Captain now), lived +very economically that they might help their poorer neighbors. They +neither entertained nor went into company, but the young lady always +went up the village as far as the <i>George and Dragon</i>, for air and +exercise, when the London Mail [<a href="#f2">2</a>] came in. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f2">2.</a> The Mail Coach it was that +distributed over the face of the land, like the opening of apocalyptic +vials, the heart-shaking news of Trafalgar, of Salamanca, of Vittoria, +of Waterloo.... The grandest chapter of our experience, within the whole +Mail Coach service, was on those occasions when we went down from London +with the news of Victory. Five years of life it was worth paying down +for the privilege of an outside place. DE QUINCEY. +</p> + +<p> +One day (it was a day in the following June) it came in earlier than +usual, and the young lady was not there to meet it. +</p> + +<p> +But a crowd soon gathered round the <i>George and Dragon</i>, gaping to +see the Mail Coach dressed with flowers and oak-leaves, and the guard +wearing a laurel wreath over and above his royal livery. The ribbons +that decked the horses were stained and flecked with the warmth and foam +of the pace at which they had come, for they had pressed on with the +news of Victory. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jessamine was sitting with her niece under the oak-tree on the +Green, when the Postman put a newspaper silently into her hand. Her +niece turned quickly--"Is there news?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't agitate yourself, my dear," said her aunt. "I will read it aloud, +and then we can enjoy it together; a far more comfortable method, my +love, than when you go up the village, and come home out of breath, +having snatched half the news as you run." +</p> + +<p> +"I am all attention, dear aunt," said the little lady, clasping her +hands tightly on her lap. +</p> + +<p> +Then Miss Jessamine read aloud--she was proud of her reading--and the +old soldier stood at attention behind her, with such a blending of pride +and pity on his face as it was strange to see:-- +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "DOWNING STREET, +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "<i>June</i> 22, 1815, 1 A.M." +</p> + +<p> +"That's one in the morning," gasped the Postman; "beg your pardon, mum." +</p> + +<p> +But though he apologized, he could not refrain from echoing here and +there a weighty word. "Glorious victory,"--"Two hundred pieces of +artillery,"--"Immense quantity of ammunition,"--and so forth. +</p> + +<p> +"The loss of the British Army upon this occasion has unfortunately been +most severe. It had not been possible to make out a return of the killed +and wounded when Major Percy left headquarters. The names of the +officers killed and wounded, as far as they can be collected, are +annexed. +</p> + +<p> +"I have the honor----" +</p> + +<p> +"The list, aunt! Read the list!" +</p> + +<p> +"My love--my darling--let us go in and----" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Now! now!" +</p> + +<p> +To one thing the supremely afflicted are entitled in their sorrow--to be +obeyed--and yet it is the last kindness that people commonly will do +them. But Miss Jessamine did. Steadying her voice, as best she might, +she read on, and the old soldier stood bareheaded to hear that first +Roll of the Dead at Waterloo, which began with the Duke of Brunswick, +and ended with Ensign Brown. [<a href="#f3">3</a>] Five-and-thirty +British Captains fell asleep that day on the bed of Honor, and the Black +Captain slept among them. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f3">3.</a> "Brunswick's fated chieftain" +fell at Quatre Bras, the day before Waterloo, but this first (very +imperfect) list, as it appeared in the newspapers of the day, did begin +with his name, and end with that of an Ensign Brown. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +There are killed and wounded by war, of whom no returns reach Downing +Street. +</p> + +<p> +Three days later, the Captain's wife had joined him, and Miss Jessamine +was kneeling by the cradle of their orphan son, a purple-red morsel of +humanity, with conspicuously golden hair. +</p> + +<p> +"Will he live, Doctor?" +</p> + +<p> +"Live? GOD bless my soul, ma'am! Look at him! The young Jackanapes!" +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + + + +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p class="ind"> + And he wandered away and away<br> + With Nature, the dear old Nurse. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + LONGFELLOW. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/018.png"><img src="images/018th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + + +<p> +The Grey Goose remembered quite well the year that Jackanapes began to +walk, for it was the year that the speckled hen for the first time in +all her motherly life got out of patience when she was sitting. She had +been rather proud of the eggs--they are unusually large--but she never +felt quite comfortable on them; and whether it was because she used to +get cramp, and got off the nest, or because the season was bad, or what, +she never could tell, but every egg was addled but one, and the one that +did hatch gave her more trouble than any chick she had ever reared. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fine, downy, bright yellow little thing, but it had a monstrous +big nose and feet, and such an ungainly walk as she knew no other +instance of in her well-bred and high-stepping family. And as to +behavior, it was not that it was either quarrelsome or moping, but +simply unlike the rest. When the other chicks hopped and cheeped on the +Green all at their mother's feet, this solitary yellow one went waddling +off on its own responsibility, and do or cluck what the spreckled hen +would, it went to play in the pond. +</p> + +<p> +It was off one day as usual, and the hen was fussing and fuming after +it, when the Postman, going to deliver a letter at Miss Jessamine's +door, was nearly knocked over by the good lady herself, who, bursting +out of the house with her cap just off and her bonnet just not on, +fell into his arms, crying-- +</p> + +<p> +"Baby! Baby! Jackanapes! Jackanapes!" +</p> + +<p> +If the Postman loved anything on earth, he loved the Captain's +yellow-haired child, so propping Miss Jessamine against her own +door-post, he followed the direction of her trembling fingers and made +for the Green. +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes had had the start of the Postman by nearly ten minutes. The +world--the round green world with an oak tree on it--was just becoming +very interesting to him. He had tried, vigorously but ineffectually, to +mount a passing pig the last time he was taken out walking; but then he +was encumbered with a nurse. Now he was his own master, and might, by +courage and energy, become the master of that delightful, downy, dumpy, +yellow thing, that was bobbing along over the green grass in front of +him. Forward! Charge! He aimed well, and grabbed it, but only to feel +the delicious downiness and dumpiness slipping through his fingers as he +fell upon his face. "Quawk!" said the yellow thing, and wobbled off +sideways. It was this oblique movement that enabled Jackanapes to come +up with it, for it was bound for the Pond, and therefore obliged to come +back into line. He failed again from top-heaviness, and his prey escaped +sideways as before, and, as before, lost ground in getting back to the +direct road to the Pond. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/020.png"><img src="images/020th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +And at the Pond the Postman found them both, one yellow thing rocking +safely on the ripples that lie beyond duck-weed, and the other washing +his draggled frock with tears, because he too had tried to sit upon the +Pond, and it wouldn't hold him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p class="ind"> + ... If studious, copie fair what time hath blurred,<br> + Redeem truth from his jawes; if souldier,<br> + Chase brave employments with a naked sword<br> + Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have,<br> + If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p class="ind"> + In brief, acquit thee bravely: play the man.<br> + Look not on pleasures as they come, but go.<br> + Defer not the least vertue: life's poore span<br> + Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe.<br> + If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains.<br> + If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + GEORGE HERBERT. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/022.png"><img src="images/022th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +Young Mrs. Johnson, who was a mother of many, hardly knew which to pity +more; Miss Jessamine for having her little ways and her antimacassars +rumpled by a young Jackanapes; or the boy himself, for being brought up +by an old maid. +</p> + +<p> +Oddly enough, she would probably have pitied neither, had Jackanapes +been a girl. (One is so apt to think that what works smoothest works to +the highest ends, having no patience for the results of friction.) That +Father in GOD, who bade the young men to be pure, and the maidens brave, +greatly disturbed a member of his congregation, who thought that the +great preacher had made a slip of the tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"That the girls should have purity, and the boys courage, is what you +would say, good Father?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nature has done that," was the reply; "I meant what I said." +</p> + +<p> +In good sooth, a young maid is all the better for learning some robuster +virtues than maidenliness and not to move the antimacassars. And the +robuster virtues require some fresh air and freedom. As, on the other +hand, Jackanapes (who had a boy's full share of the little beast and the +young monkey in his natural composition) was none the worse, at his +tender years, for learning some maidenliness--so far as maidenliness +means decency, pity, unselfishness and pretty behavior. +</p> + +<p> +And it is due to him to say that he was an obedient boy, and a boy whose +word could be depended on, long before his grandfather the General came +to live at the Green. +</p> + +<p> +He was obedient; that is he did what his great aunt told him. But--oh +dear! oh dear!--the pranks he played, which it had never entered into +her head to forbid! +</p> + +<p> +It was when he had just been put into skeletons (frocks never suited +him) that he became very friendly with Master Tony Johnson, a younger +brother of the young gentleman who sat in the puddle on purpose. Tony +was not enterprising, and Jackanapes led him by the nose. One summer's +evening they were out late, and Miss Jessamine was becoming anxious, +when Jackanapes presented himself with a ghastly face all besmirched +with tears. He was unusually subdued. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid," he sobbed; "if you please, I'm very much afraid that Tony +Johnson's dying in the churchyard." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jessamine was just beginning to be distracted, when she smelt +Jackanapes. +</p> + +<p> +"You naughty, naughty boys! Do you mean to tell me that you've been +smoking?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not pipes," urged Jackanapes; "upon my honor, Aunty, not pipes. Only +segars like Mr. Johnson's! and only made of brown paper with a very, +very little tobacco from the shop inside them." +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon, Miss Jessamine sent a servant to the churchyard, who found +Tony Johnson lying on a tomb-stone, very sick, and having ceased to +entertain any hopes of his own recovery. +</p> + +<p> +If it could be possible that any "unpleasantness" could arise between +two such amiable neighbors as Miss Jessamine and Mrs. Johnson--and if +the still more incredible paradox can be that ladies may differ over a +point on which they are agreed--that point was the admitted fact that +Tony Johnson was "delicate," and the difference lay chiefly in this: +Mrs. Johnson said that Tony was delicate--meaning that he was more +finely strung, more sensitive, a properer subject for pampering and +petting than Jackanapes, and that, consequently, Jackanapes was to blame +for leading Tony into scrapes which resulted in his being chilled, +frightened, or (most frequently) sick. But when Miss Jessamine said that +Tony Johnson was delicate, she meant that he was more puling, less +manly, and less healthily brought up than Jackanapes, who, when they got +into mischief together, was certainly not to blame because his friend +could not get wet, sit a kicking donkey, ride in the giddy-go-round, +bear the noise of a cracker, or smoke brown paper with impunity, as he +could. +</p> + +<p> +Not that there was ever the slightest quarrel between the ladies. It +never even came near it, except the day after Tony had been so very sick +with riding Bucephalus in the giddy-go-round. Mrs. Johnson had explained +to Miss Jessamine that the reason Tony was so easily upset, was the +unusual sensitiveness (as a doctor had explained it to her) of the +nervous centres in her family--"Fiddlestick!" So Mrs. Johnson +understood Miss Jessamine to say, but it appeared that she only said +"Treaclestick!" which is quite another thing, and of which Tony was +undoubtedly fond. It was at the fair that Tony was made ill by riding on +Bucephalus. Once a year the Goose Green became the scene of a carnival. +First of all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and +night. Jackanapes could hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly +sleep for speculating what booths and whirligigs he should find fairly +established; when he and his dog Spitfire went out after breakfast. As a +matter of fact, he seldom had to wait long for news of the Fair. The +Postman knew the window out of which Jackanapes' yellow head would come, +and was ready with his report. +</p> + +<p> +"Royal Theayter, Master Jackanapes, in the old place, but be careful o' +them seats, sir; they're rickettier than ever. Two sweets and a +ginger-beer under the oak tree, and the Flying Boats is just a-coming +along the road." +</p> + +<p> +No doubt it was partly because he had already suffered severely in the +Flying Boats, that Tony collapsed so quickly in the giddy-go-round. He +only mounted Bucephalus (who was spotted, and had no tail) because +Jackanapes urged him, and held out the ingenious hope that the +round-and-round feeling would very likely cure the up-and-down +sensation. It did not, however, and Tony tumbled off during the first +revolution. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/027.png"><img src="images/027th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes was not absolutely free from qualms, but having once mounted +the Black Prince he stuck to him as a horseman should. During the first +round he waved his hat, and observed with some concern that the Black +Prince had lost an ear since last Fair; at the second, he looked a little +pale but sat upright, though somewhat unnecessarily rigid; at the +third round he shut his eyes. During the fourth his hat fell off, and he +clasped his horse's neck. By the fifth he had laid his yellow head +against the Black Prince's mane, and so clung anyhow till the +hobby-horses stopped, when the proprietor assisted him to alight, and he +sat down rather suddenly and said he had enjoyed it very much. +</p> + +<p> +The Grey Goose always ran away at the first approach of the caravans, +and never came back to the Green till there was nothing left of the Fair +but footmarks and oyster-shells. Running away was her pet principle; the +only system, she maintained, by which you can live long and easily, and +lose nothing. If you run away when you see danger, you can come back +when all is safe. Run quickly, return slowly, hold your head high, and +gabble as loud as you can, and you'll preserve the respect of the Goose +Green to a peaceful old age. Why should you struggle and get hurt, if +you can lower your head and swerve, and not lose a feather? Why in the +world should any one spoil the pleasure of life, or risk his skin, if he +can help it? +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "'What's the use'<br> + Said the Goose." +</p> + +<p> +Before answering which one might have to consider what world--which +life--whether his skin were a goose-skin; but the Grey Goose's head +would never have held all that. +</p> + +<p> +Grass soon grows over footprints, and the village children took the +oyster-shells to trim their gardens with; but the year after Tony rode +Bucephalus there lingered another relic of Fairtime, in which Jackanapes +was deeply interested. "The Green" proper was originally only part of a +straggling common, which in its turn merged into some wilder waste land +where gipsies sometimes squatted if the authorities would allow them, +especially after the annual Fair. And it was after the Fair that +Jackanapes, out rambling by himself, was knocked over by the Gipsy's son +riding the Gipsy's red-haired pony at break-neck pace across the common. +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes got up and shook himself, none the worse, except for being +heels over head in love with the red-haired pony. What a rate he went +at! How he spurned the ground with his nimble feet! How his red coat +shone in the sunshine! And what bright eyes peeped out of his dark +forelock as it was blown by the wind! +</p> + +<p> +The Gipsy boy had had a fright, and he was willing enough to reward +Jackanapes for not having been hurt, by consenting to let him have a +ride. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean to kill the little fine gentleman, and swing us all on the +gibbet, you rascal?" screamed the Gipsy-mother, who came up just as +Jackanapes and the pony set off. +</p> + +<p> +"He would get on," replied her son. "It'll not kill him. He'll fall on +his yellow head, and it's as tough as a cocoanut." +</p> + +<p> +But Jackanapes did not fall. He stuck to the red-haired pony as he had +stuck to the hobbyhorse; but oh, how different the delight of this wild +gallop with flesh and blood! Just as his legs were beginning to feel as +if he did not feel them, the Gipsy boy cried "Lollo!" Round went the +pony so unceremoniously, that, with as little ceremony, Jackanapes clung +to his neck, and he did not properly recover himself before Lollo +stopped with a jerk at the place where they had started. +</p> + +<p> +"Is his name Lollo?" asked Jackanapes, his hand lingering in the wiry +mane. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"What does Lollo mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Red." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Lollo your pony?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. My father's." And the Gipsy boy led Lollo away. +</p> + +<p> +At the first opportunity Jackanapes stole away again to the common. This +time he saw the Gipsy-father, smoking a dirty pipe. +</p> + +<p> +"Lollo is your pony, isn't he?" said Jackanapes. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"He's a very nice one." +</p> + +<p> +"He's a racer." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't want to sell him, do you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Fifteen pounds," said the Gipsy-father; and Jackanapes sighed and went +home again. That very afternoon he and Tony rode the two donkeys, and +Tony managed to get thrown, and even Jackanapes' donkey kicked. But it +was jolting, clumsy work after the elastic swiftness and the dainty +mischief of the red-haired pony. +</p> + +<p> +A few days later Miss Jessamine spoke very seriously to Jackanapes. She +was a good deal agitated as she told him that his grandfather, the +General, was coming to the Green, and that he must be on his very best +behavior during the visit. If it had been feasible to leave off calling +him Jackanapes and to get used to his baptismal name of Theodore before +the day after to-morrow (when the General was due), it would have been +satisfactory. But Miss Jessamine feared it would be impossible in +practice, and she had scruples about it on principle. It would not seem +quite truthful, although she had always most fully intended that he +should be called Theodore when he had outgrown the ridiculous +appropriateness of his nickname. The fact was that he had not outgrown +it, but he must take care to remember who was meant when his grandfather +said Theodore. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed for that matter he must take care all along. +</p> + +<p> +"You are apt to be giddy, Jackanapes," said Miss Jessamine. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes aunt," said Jackanapes, thinking of the hobby-horses. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a good boy, Jackanapes. Thank GOD, I can tell your grandfather +that. An obedient boy, an honorable boy, and a kind-hearted boy. But you +are--in short, you <i>are</i> a Boy, Jackanapes. And I hope,"--added +Miss Jessamine, desperate with the results of experience--"that the +General knows that Boys will be Boys." +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/033.png"><img src="images/033th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against. +He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over his +catechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair of +his smooth--("It's the wind that blows it, Aunty," said +Jackanapes--"I'll send by the coach for some bear's-grease," said Miss +Jessamine, tying a knot in her pocket-handkerchief)--not to burst in at +the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to crumple his +Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to be sure to +say "sir" to the General, to be careful about rubbing his shoes on the +doormat, and to bring his lesson-books to his aunt at once that she +might iron down the dogs' ears. The General arrived, and for the first +day all went well, except that Jackanapes' hair was as wild as usual, +for the hair-dresser had no bear's-grease left. He began to feel more at +ease with his grandfather, and disposed to talk confidentially with him, +as he did with the Postman. All that the General felt it would take too +long to tell, but the result was the same. He was disposed to talk +confidentially with Jackanapes. +</p> + +<p> +"Mons'ous pretty place this," he said, looking out of the lattice on to +the Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset, and the shadows were +long and peaceful. +</p> + +<p> +"You should see it in Fair-week, sir," said Jackanapes, shaking his +yellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendale armchairs +in which they sat. +</p> + +<p> +"A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left +eye. (The other was glass.) +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes shook his hair once more. "I enjoyed this last one the best +of all," he said. "I'd so much money." +</p> + +<p> +"By George, it's not a common complaint in these bad times. How much had +ye?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'd two shillings. A new shilling Aunty gave me, and elevenpence I had +saved up, and a penny from the Postman--<i>sir</i>!" added Jackanapes +with a jerk, having forgotten it. +</p> + +<p> +"And how did ye spend it--<i>sir</i>?" inquired the General. Jackanapes +spread his ten fingers on the arms of his chair, and shut his eyes that +he might count the more conscientiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Watch-stand for Aunty, threepence. Trumpet for myself, twopence, that's +fivepence. Ginger-nuts for Tony, twopence, and a mug with a Grenadier on +for the Postman, fourpence, that's elevenpence. Shooting-gallery a +penny, that's a shilling. Giddy-go-round, a penny, that's one and a +penny. Treating Tony, one and twopence. Flying Boats (Tony paid for +himself), a penny, one and threepence. Shooting-gallery again, one and +four-pence; Fat Woman a penny, one and fivepence. Giddy-go-round again, +one and sixpence. Shooting-gallery, one and sevenpence. Treating Tony, +and then he wouldn't shoot, so I did, one and eightpence. Living +Skeleton, a penny--no, Tony treated me, the Living Skeleton doesn't +count. Skittles, a penny, one and ninepence Mermaid (but when we got +inside she was dead), a penny, one and tenpence. Theatre, a penny +(Priscilla Partington, or the Green Lane Murder. A beautiful young lady, +sir, with pink cheeks and a real pistol), that's one and elevenpence. +Ginger beer, a penny (I <i>was</i> so thirsty!) two shillings. And then +the Shooting-gallery man gave me a turn for nothing, because, he said, I +was a real gentleman, and spent my money like a man." +</p> + +<p> +"So you do, sir, so you do!" cried the General. "Why, sir, you spend it +like a prince--And now I suppose you've not got a penny in your pocket?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes I have," said Jackanapes. "Two pennies. They are saving up." And +Jackanapes jingled them with his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't want money except at fair-times, I suppose?" said the +General. +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes shook his mop. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could have as much as I want, I should know what to buy," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"And how much do you want, if you could get it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute, sir, till I think what twopence from fifteen pounds +leaves. Two from nothing you can't, but borrow twelve. Two from twelve, +ten, and carry one. Please remember ten, sir, when I ask you. One from +nothing you can't, borrow twenty. One from twenty, nineteen, and carry +one. One from fifteen, fourteen. Fourteen pounds nineteen and--what did I +tell you to remember?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ten," said the General. +</p> + +<p> +"Fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and ten-pence then, is what I want," +said Jackanapes. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless my soul, what for?" +</p> + +<p> +"To buy Lollo with. Lollo means red, sir. The Gipsy's red-haired pony, +sir. Oh, he is beautiful! You should see his coat in the sunshine! You +should see his mane! You should see his tail! Such little feet, sir, and +they go like lightning! Such a dear face, too, and eyes like a mouse! +But he's a racer, and the Gipsy wants fifteen pounds for him." +</p> + +<p> +"If he's a racer, you couldn't ride him. Could you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No--o, sir, but I can stick to him. I did the other day." +</p> + +<p> +"You did, did you? Well, I'm fond of riding myself, and if the beast is +as good as you say, he might suit me." +</p> + +<p> +"You're too tall for Lollo, I think," said Jackanapes, measuring his +grandfather with his eye. +</p> + +<p> +"I can double up my legs, I suppose. We'll have a look at him +to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you weigh a good deal?" asked Jackanapes. +</p> + +<p> +"Chiefly waistcoats," said the General, slapping the breast of his +military frock-coat. "We'll have the little racer on the Green the first +thing in the morning. Glad you mentioned it, grandson. Glad you +mentioned it." +</p> + +<p> +The General was as good as his word. Next morning the Gipsy and Lollo, +Miss Jessamine, Jackanapes and his grandfather and his dog Spitfire, +were all gathered at one end of the Green in a group, which so aroused +the innocent curiosity of Mrs. Johnson, as she saw it from one of her +upper windows, that she and the children took their early promenade +rather earlier than usual. The General talked to the Gipsy, and +Jackanapes fondled Lollo's mane, and did not know whether he should be +more glad or miserable if his grandfather bought him. +</p> + +<p> +"Jackanapes!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir!" +</p> + +<p> +"I've bought Lollo, but I believe you were right. He hardly stands high +enough for me. If you can ride him to the other end of the Green, I'll +give him to you." +</p> + +<p> +How Jackanapes tumbled on to Lollo's back he never knew. He had just +gathered up the reins when the Gipsy-father took him by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"If you want to make Lollo go fast, my little gentleman--" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>I</i> can make him go!" said Jackanapes, and drawing from his pocket +the trumpet he had bought in the fair, he blew a blast both loud and +shrill. +</p> + +<p> +Away went Lollo, and away went Jackanapes' hat. His golden hair flew out, +an aureole from which his cheeks shone red and distended with +trumpeting. Away went Spitfire, mad with the rapture of the race, and +the wind in his silky ears. Away went the geese, the cocks, the hens, +and the whole family of Johnson. Lucy clung to her mamma, Jane saved +Emily by the gathers of her gown, and Tony saved himself by a +somersault. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/039.png"><img src="images/039th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +The Grey Goose was just returning when Jackanapes and Lollo rode back, +Spitfire panting behind. +</p> + +<p> +"Good, my little gentleman, good!" said the Gipsy. "You were born to the +saddle. You've the flat thigh, the strong knee, the wiry back, and the +light caressing hand, all you want is to learn the whisper Come here!" +</p> + +<p> +"What was that dirty fellow talking about, grandson?" asked the General. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't tell you, sir. It's a secret." +</p> + +<p> +They were sitting in the window again, in the two Chippendale +arm-chairs, the General devouring every line of his grandson's face, +with strange spasms crossing his own. +</p> + +<p> +"You must love your aunt very much, Jackanapes?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do, sir," said Jackanapes warmly. +</p> + +<p> +"And whom do you love next best to your aunt?" +</p> + +<p> +The ties of blood were pressing very strongly on the General himself, +and perhaps he thought of Lollo. But Love is not bought in a day, even +with fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and ten-pence. Jackanapes +answered quite readily, "The Postman." +</p> + +<p> +"Why the Postman?" +</p> + +<p> +"He knew my father," said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him, and +about his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He died +at Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too." "So you shall, +my boy. So you shall." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier for fear +of being killed." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and stay +there? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt, if you were a +butter-merchant!" +</p> + +<p> +"So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! I +say, do you think my father knew the Gipsy's secret? The Postman says he +used to whisper to his black mare." +</p> + +<p> +"Your father was taught to ride as a child, by one of those horsemen of +the East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows in +autumn. Grandson! Love me a little too. I can tell you more about your +father than the Postman can." +</p> + +<p> +"I do love you," said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened. I'd +no notion you were so nice." +</p> + +<p> +"Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--God help +me--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you! There shall never be +a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We're imperfect +enough, all of us, we needn't be so bitter; and life is uncertain enough +at its safest, we needn't waste its opportunities. Look at me! Here sit +I, after a dozen battles and some of the worst climates in the world, +and by yonder lych gate lies your mother, who didn't move five miles, I +suppose, from your aunt's apron-strings,--dead in her teens; my +golden-haired daughter, whom I never saw." +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes was terribly troubled. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't cry, grandfather," he pleaded, his own blue eyes round with +tears. "I will love you very much, and I will try to be very good. But I +should like to be a soldier." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall, my boy, you shall. You've more claims for a commission than +you know of. Cavalry, I suppose; eh, ye young Jackanapes? Well, well; if +you live to be an honor to your country, this old heart shall grow young +again with pride for you; and if you die in the service of your +country--GOD bless me, it can but break for ye!" +</p> + +<p> +And beating the region which he said was all waistcoats, as if they +stifled him, the old man got up and strode out on to the Green. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p class="ind"> + "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his<br> + life for his friends."--JOHN XV. 13. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/043.png"><img src="images/043th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +Twenty and odd years later the Grey Goose was still alive, and in full +possession of her faculties, such as they were. She lived slowly and +carefully, and she lived long. So did Miss Jessamine; but the General +was dead. +</p> + +<p> +He had lived on the Green for many years, during which he and the +Postman saluted each other with a punctiliousness that it almost drilled +one to witness. He would have completely spoiled Jackanapes if Miss +Jessamine's conscience would have let him; otherwise he somewhat +dragooned his neighbors, and was as positive about parish matters as a +ratepayer about the army. A stormy-tempered, tender-hearted soldier, +irritable with the suffering of wounds of which he never spoke, whom all +the village followed to his grave with tears. +</p> + +<p> +The General's death was a great shock to Miss Jessamine, and her nephew +stayed with her for some little time after the funeral. Then he was +obliged to join his regiment, which was ordered abroad. +</p> + +<p> +One effect of the conquest which the General had gained over the +affections of the village, was a considerable abatement of the popular +prejudice against "the military." Indeed the village was now somewhat +importantly represented in the army. There was the General himself, and +the Postman, and the Black Captain's tablet in the church, and +Jackanapes, and Tony Johnson, and a Trumpeter. +</p> + +<p> +Tony Johnson had no more natural taste for fighting than for riding, but +he was as devoted as ever to Jackanapes, and that was how it came about +that Mr. Johnson bought him a commission in the same cavalry regiment +that the General's grandson (whose commission had been given him by the +Iron Duke) was in, and that he was quite content to be the butt of the +mess where Jackanapes was the hero; and that when Jackanapes wrote home +to Miss Jessamine, Tony wrote with the same purpose to his mother; +namely, to demand her congratulations that they were on active service +at last, and were ordered to the front. And he added a postscript to the +effect that she could have no idea how popular Jackanapes was, nor how +splendidly he rode the wonderful red charger whom he had named after his +old friend Lollo. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +"Sound Retire!" +</p> + +<p> +A Boy Trumpeter, grave with the weight of responsibilities and +accoutrements beyond his years, and stained, so that his own mother +would not have known him, with the sweat and dust of battle, did as he +was bid; and then pushing his trumpet pettishly aside, adjusted his +weary legs for the hundredth time to the horse which was a world too big +for him, and muttering, "'Tain't a pretty tune," tried to see something +of this, his first engagement, before it came to an end. +</p> + +<p> +Being literally in the thick of it, he could hardly have seen less or +known less of what happened in that particular skirmish if he had been +at home in England. For many good reasons; including dust and smoke, and +that what attention he dared distract from his commanding officer was +pretty well absorbed by keeping his hard-mouthed troop-horse in hand, +under pain of execration by his neighbors in the melée. By-and-by, when +the newspapers came out, if he could get a look at one before it was +thumbed to bits, he would learn that the enemy had appeared from ambush +in overwhelming numbers, and that orders had been given to fall back, +which was done slowly and in good order, the men fighting as they +retired. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/046.png"><img src="images/046th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +Born and bred on the Goose Green, the youngest of Mr. Johnson's +gardener's numerous off-spring, the boy had given his family "no peace" +till they let him "go for a soldier" with Master Tony and Master +Jackanapes. They consented at last, with more tears than they shed when +an elder son was sent to jail for poaching, and the boy was perfectly +happy in his life, and full of <i>esprit de corps</i>. It was this which +had been wounded by having to sound retreat for "the young gentlemen's +regiment," the first time he served with it before the enemy, and he was +also harassed by having completely lost sight of Master Tony. There had +been some hard fighting before the backward movement began, and he had +caught sight of him once, but not since. On the other hand, all the +pulses of his village pride had been stirred by one or two visions of +Master Jackanapes whirling about on his wonderful horse. He had been +easy to distinguish, since an eccentric blow had bared his head without +hurting it, for his close golden mop of hair gleamed in the hot sunshine +as brightly as the steel of the sword flashing round it. +</p> + +<p> +Of the missiles that fell pretty thickly, the Boy Trumpeter did not take +much notice. First, one can't attend to everything, and his hands were +full. Secondly, one gets used to anything. Thirdly, experience soon +teaches one, in spite of proverbs, how very few bullets find their +billet. Far more unnerving is the mere suspicion of fear or even of +anxiety in the human mass around you. The Boy was beginning to wonder if +there were any dark reason for the increasing pressure, and whether they +would be allowed to move back more quickly, when the smoke in front +lifted for a moment, and he could see the plain, and the enemy's line +some two hundred yards away. +</p> + +<p> +And across the plain between them, he saw Master Jackanapes galloping +alone at the top of Lollo's speed, their faces to the enemy, his golden +head at Lollo's ear. +</p> + +<p> +But at this moment noise and smoke seemed to burst out on every side, +the officer shouted to him to sound retire, and between trumpeting and +bumping about on his horse, he saw and heard no more of the incidents of +his first battle. +</p> + +<p> +Tony Johnson was always unlucky with horses, from the days of the +giddy-go-round onwards. On this day--of all days in the year--his own +horse was on the sick list, and he had to ride an inferior, +ill-conditioned beast, and fell off that, at the very moment when it was +a matter of life or death to be able to ride away. The horse fell on +him, but struggled up again, and Tony managed to keep hold of it. It was +in trying to remount that he discovered, by helplessness and anguish, +that one of his legs was crushed and broken, and that no feat of which +he was master would get him into the saddle. Not able even to stand +alone, awkwardly, agonizingly unable to mount his restive horse, his +life was yet so strong within him! And on one side of him rolled the +dust and smoke-cloud of his advancing foe, and on the other, that which +covered his retreating friends. +</p> + +<p> +He turned one piteous gaze after them, with a bitter twinge, not of +reproach, but of loneliness; and then, dragging himself up by the side +of his horse, he turned the other way and drew out his pistol, and +waited for the end. Whether he waited seconds or minutes he never knew, +before some one gripped him by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Jackanapes! GOD bless you! It's my left leg. If you could get me on--" +</p> + +<p> +It was like Tony's luck that his pistol went off at his horse's tail, +and made it plunge; but Jackanapes threw him across the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold on anyhow, and stick your spur in. I'll lead him. Keep your head +down, they're firing high." +</p> + +<p> +And Jackanapes laid his head down--to Lollo's ear. +</p> + +<p> +It was when they were fairly off, that a sudden upspringing of the enemy +in all directions had made it necessary to change the gradual retirement +of our force into as rapid a retreat as possible. And when Jackanapes +became aware of this, and felt the lagging and swerving of Tony's horse, +he began to wish he had thrown his friend across his own saddle, and +left their lives to Lollo. +</p> + +<p> +When Tony became aware of it, several things came into his head. 1. That +the dangers of their ride for life were now more than doubled. 2. That +if Jackanapes and Lollo were not burdened with him they would +undoubtedly escape. 3. That Jackanapes' life was infinitely valuable, +and his--Tony's--was not. 4. That this--if he could seize it--was the +supremest of all the moments in which he had tried to assume the virtues +which Jackanapes had by nature; and that if he could be courageous and +unselfish now-- +</p> + +<p> +He caught at his own reins and spoke very loud-- +</p> + +<p> +"Jackanapes! It won't do. You and Lollo must go on. Tell the fellows I +gave you back to them, with all my heart. Jackanapes, if you love me, +leave me!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a daffodil light over the evening sky in front of them, and it +shone strangely on Jackanapes' hair and face. He turned with an odd look +in his eyes that a vainer man than Tony Johnson might have taken for +brotherly pride. Then he shook his mop and laughed at him. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/051.png"><img src="images/051th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Leave you?</i> To save my skin? No, Tony, not to save my soul!" +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p class="ind"> + Mr. VALIANT <i>summoned. His will. His last words.</i> +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + Then, said he, "I am going to my Father's.... My Sword I<br> + give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my<br> + Courage and Skill to him that can get it." ... And as he<br> + went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy Victory?" +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on<br> + the other side.<br> + BUNYAN'S <i>Pilgrim's, Progress</i>. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/052.png"><img src="images/052th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +Coming out of a hospital-tent, at headquarters, the surgeon cannonaded +against, and rebounded from, another officer; a sallow man, not young, +with a face worn more by ungentle experiences than by age; with weary +eyes that kept their own counsel, iron gray hair, and a moustache that +was as if a raven had laid its wing across his lips and sealed them. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"Beg pardon, Major. Didn't see you. Oh, compound fracture and bruises, +but it's all right. He'll pull through." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank GOD." +</p> + +<p> +It was probably an involuntary expression, for prayer and praise were +not much in the Major's line, as a jerk of the surgeon's head would have +betrayed to an observer. He was a bright little man, with his feelings +showing all over him, but with gallantry and contempt of death enough +for both sides of his profession; who took a cool head, a white +handkerchief and a case of instruments, where other men went hot-blooded +with weapons, and who was the biggest gossip, male or female, of the +regiment. Not even the Major's taciturnity daunted him. +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't think he'd as much pluck about him as he has. He'll do all right +if he doesn't fret himself into a fever about poor Jackanapes." +</p> + +<p> +"Whom are you talking about?" asked the Major hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +"Young Johnson. He--" +</p> + +<p> +"What about Jackanapes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought him +in; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung--" +</p> + +<p> +"Will he recover?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Sad business." +</p> + +<p> +"What a frame--what limbs--what health--and what good looks? Finest +young fellow--" +</p> + +<p> +"Where is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"In his own tent," said the surgeon sadly. +</p> + +<p> +The Major wheeled and left him. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +"Can I do anything else for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, thank you. Except--Major! I wish I could get you to appreciate +Johnson." +</p> + +<p> +"This is not an easy moment, Jackanapes." +</p> + +<p> +"Let me tell you, sir--<i>he</i> never will--that if he could have +driven me from him, he would be lying yonder at this moment, and I +should be safe and sound." +</p> + +<p> +The Major laid his hand over his mouth, as if to keep back a wish he +would have been ashamed to utter. +</p> + +<p> +"I've known old Tony from a child. He's a fool on impulse, a good man +and a gentleman in principle. And he acts on principle, which it's not +every--some water, please! Thank you, sir. It's very hot, and yet one's +feet get uncommonly cold. Oh, thank you, thank you. He's no fire-eater, +but he has a trained conscience and a tender heart, and he'll do his +duty when a braver and more selfish man might fail you. But he wants +encouragement; and when I'm gone----" +</p> + +<p> +"He shall have encouragement. You have my word for it. Can I do nothing +else?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Major. A favor." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Jackanapes." +</p> + +<p> +"Be Lollo's master, and love him as well as you can. He's used to it." +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't you rather Johnson had him?" +</p> + +<p> +The blue eyes twinkled in spite of mortal pain. +</p> + +<p> +"Tony <i>rides</i> on principle, Major. His legs are bolsters, and will +be to the end of the chapter. I couldn't insult dear Lollo, but if you +don't care"---- + +"Whilst I live----which will be longer than I desire or +deserve----Lollo shall want nothing, but----you. I have too little +tenderness for----my dear boy, you're faint. Can you spare me for a +moment?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, stay--Major!" +</p> + +<p> +"What? What?" +</p> + +<p> +"My head drifts so--if you wouldn't mind." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! Yes!" +</p> + +<p> +"Say a prayer by me. Out loud please, I am getting deaf." +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest Jackanapes--my dear boy----" +</p> + +<p> +"One of the Church Prayers--Parade Service, you know----" +</p> + +<p> +"I see. But the fact is--GOD forgive me, Jackanapes--I'm a very +different sort of fellow to some of you youngsters. Look here, let me +fetch--" +</p> + +<p> +But Jackanapes' hand was in his, and it wouldn't let go. +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief and bitter silence. +</p> + +<p> +"'Pon my soul I can only remember the little one at the end." +</p> + +<p> +"Please," whispered Jackanapes. +</p> + +<p> +Pressed by the conviction that what little he could do it was his duty +to do, the Major--kneeling--bared his head, and spoke loudly, clearly, +and very reverently-- +</p> + +<p> +"The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--" +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes moved his left hand to his right one, which still held the +Major's-- +</p> + +<p> +"--The love of GOD." +</p> + +<p> +And with that--Jackanapes died. +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/057.png"><img src="images/057th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "Und so ist der blaue Himmel grösser als jedes<br> + Gewolk darin, und dauerhafter dazu."<br> + JEAN PAUL RICHTER. +</p> + +<p> +Jackanapes' death was sad news for the Goose Green, a sorrow justly +qualified by honorable pride in his gallantry and devotion. Only the +Cobbler dissented, but that was his way. He said he saw nothing in it +but foolhardiness and vainglory. They might both have been killed, as +easy as not, and then where would ye have been? A man's life was a man's +life, and one life was as good as another. No one would catch him +throwing his away. And, for that matter, Mrs. Johnson could spare a +child a great deal better than Miss Jessamine. +</p> + +<p> +But the parson preached Jackanapes' funeral sermon on the text, +"Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his +life for My sake shall find it;" and all the village went and wept to +hear him. +</p> + +<p> +Nor did Miss Jessamine see her loss from the Cobbler's point of view. On +the contrary, Mrs. Johnson said she never to her dying day should forget +how, when she went to condole with her, the old lady came forward, with +gentle-womanly self-control, and kissed her, and thanked GOD that her +dear nephew's effort had been blessed with success, and that this sad +war had made no gap in her friend's large and happy home circle. +</p> + +<p> +"But she's a noble, unselfish woman," sobbed Mrs. Johnson, "and she +taught Jackanapes to be the same, and that's how it is that my Tony has +been spared to me. And it must be sheer goodness in Miss Jessamine, for +what can she know of a mother's feelings? And I'm sure most people seem +to think that if you've a large family you don't know one from another +any more than they do, and that a lot of children are like a lot of +store-apples, if one's taken it won't be missed." +</p> + +<p> +Lollo--the first Lollo, the Gipsy's Lollo--very aged, draws Miss +Jessamine's bath-chair slowly up and down the Goose Green in the +sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +The Ex-postman walks beside him, which Lollo tolerates to the level of +his shoulder. If the Postman advances any nearer to his head, Lollo +quickens his pace, and were the Postman to persist in the injudicious +attempt, there is, as Miss Jessamine says, no knowing what might happen. +</p> + +<p> +In the opinion of the Goose Green, Miss Jessamine has borne her troubles +"wonderfully." Indeed, to-day, some of the less delicate and less +intimate of those who see everything from the upper windows, say (well +behind her back) that "the old lady seems quite lively with her military +beaux again." +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<a href="images/059.png"><img src="images/059th.png" alt=""></a> +</p> + +<p> +The meaning of this is, that Captain Johnson is leaning over one side of +her chair, whilst by the other bends a brother officer who is staying +with him, and who has manifested an extraordinary interest in Lollo. He +bends lower and lower, and Miss Jessamine calls to the Postman to +request Lollo to be kind enough to stop, whilst she is fumbling for +something which always hangs by her side, and has got entangled with her +spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +It is a two-penny trumpet, bought years ago in the village fair, and +over it she and Captain Johnson tell, as best they can, between them, +the story of Jackanapes' ride across the Goose Green; and how he won +Lollo--the Gipsy's Lollo--the racer Lollo--dear Lollo--faithful +Lollo--Lollo the never vanquished--Lollo the tender servant of his old +mistress. And Lollo's ears twitch at every mention of his name. +</p> + +<p> +Their hearer does not speak, but he never moves his eyes from the +trumpet, and when the tale is told, he lifts Miss Jessamine's hand and +presses his heavy black moustache in silence to her trembling fingers. +</p> + +<p> +The sun, betting gently to his rest, embroiders the sombre foliage of +the oak-tree with threads of gold. The Grey Goose is sensible of an +atmosphere of repose, and puts up one leg for the night. The grass glows +with a more vivid green, and, in answer to a ringing call from Tony, his +sisters, fluttering over the daisies in pale-hued muslins, come out of +their ever-open door, like pretty pigeons form a dovecote. +</p> + +<p> +And, if the good gossips, eyes do not deceive them, all the Miss +Johnsons, and both the officers, go wandering off into the lanes, where +bryony wreaths still twine about the brambles. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +A sorrowful story, and ending badly? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, Jackanapes, for the end is not yet. +</p> + +<p> +A life wasted that might have been useful? +</p> + +<p> +Men who have died for men, in all ages, forgive the thought! +</p> + +<p> +There is a heritage of heroic example and noble obligation, not reckoned +in the Wealth of Nations, but essential to a nation's life; the contempt +of which, in any people, may, not slowly, mean even its commercial fall. +Very sweet are the uses of prosperity, the harvests of peace and +progress, the fostering sunshine of health and happiness, and length of +days in the land. +</p> + +<p> +But there be things--oh, sons of what has deserved the name of Great +Britain, forget it not!--"the good of" which and "the use of" which are +beyond all calculation of worldly goods and earthly uses; things such as +Love, and Honor, and the Soul of Man, which cannot be bought with a +price, and which do not die with death. "And they who would fain live +happily EVER after, should not leave these things out of the lessons of +their lives." +<br> +<br> +<br> +</p> + + +<h2>DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOT.</h2> + +<hr> + +<h3> +PREAMBLE. +</h3> + +<p> +A summer's afternoon. Early in the summer, and late in the afternoon; +with odors and colors deepening, and shadows lengthening, towards +evening. +</p> + +<p> +Two gaffers gossiping, seated side by side upon a Yorkshire wall. A wall +of sandstone of many colors, glowing redder and yellower as the sun goes +down; well cushioned with moss and lichen, and deep set in rank grass on +this side, where the path runs, and in blue hyacinths on that side, +where the wood is, and where--on the gray and still naked branches of +young oaks--sit divers crows, not less solemn than the gaffers, and also +gossiping. +</p> + +<p> +One gaffer in work-day clothes, not unpicturesque of form and hue. Gray, +home-knit stockings, and coat and knee-breeches of corduroy, which takes +tints from Time and Weather as harmoniously as wooden palings do; so +that field laborers (like some insects) seem to absorb or mimic the +colors of the vegetation round them and of their native soil. That is, +on work-days. Sunday-best is a different matter, and in this the other +gaffer was clothed. He was dressed like the crows above him, <i>fit +excepted</i>: the reason for which was, that he was only a visitor, a +revisitor to the home of his youth, and wore his Sunday (and funeral) +suit to mark the holiday. +</p> + +<p> +Continuing the path, a stone pack-horse track, leading past a hedge +snow-white with may, and down into a little wood, from the depths of +which one could hear a brook babbling. Then up across the sunny field +beyond, and yet up over another field to where the brow of the hill is +crowned by old farm-buildings standing against the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Down this stone path a young man going whistling home to tea. Then +staying to bend a swarthy face to the white may to smell it, and then +plucking a huge branch on which the blossom lies like a heavy fall of +snow, and throwing that aside for a better, and tearing off another and +yet another, with the prodigal recklessness of a pauper; and so, +whistling, on into the wood with his arms full. +</p> + +<p> +Down the sunny field, as he goes up it, a woman coming to meet him--with +<i>her</i> arms full. Filled by a child with a may-white frock, and hair +shining with the warm colors of the sandstone. A young woman, having a +fair forehead visible a long way off, and buxom cheeks, and steadfast +eyes. When they meet he kisses her, and she pulls his dark hair and +smooths her own, and cuffs him in country fashion. Then they change +burdens, and she takes the may into her apron (stooping to pick up +fallen bits), and the child sits on the man's shoulder, and cuffs and +lugs its father as the mother did, and is chidden by her and kissed by +him. And all the babbling of their chiding and crowing and laughter +comes across the babbling of the brook to the ears of the old gaffers +gossiping on the wall. +</p> + +<p> +Gaffer I. spits out an over-munched stalk of meadow soft-grass, and +speaks: +</p> + +<p> +"D'ye see yon chap?" +</p> + +<p> +Gaffer II. takes up his hat and wipes it round with a spotted +handkerchief (for your Sunday hat is a heating thing for work-day wear), +and puts it on, and makes reply: +</p> + +<p> +"Aye. But he beats me. And--see there!--he's t'first that's beat me yet. +Why, lad! I've met young chaps to-day I could ha' sworn to for mates of +mine forty years back--if I hadn't ha' been i't' churchyard spelling +over their fathers' tumstuns!" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye. There's a many old standards gone home o' lately." +</p> + +<p> +"What do they call <i>him?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"T' young chap?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye." +</p> + +<p> +"They <i>call</i> him--Darwin." +</p> + +<p> +"Dar--win? I should known a Darwin. They're old standards, is Darwins. +What's he to Daddy Darwin of t' Dovecot yonder?" +</p> + +<p> +"He <i>owns</i> t' Dovecot. Did ye see t' lass?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye. Shoo's his missus, I reckon?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye." +</p> + +<p> +"What did they call her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Phoebe Shaw they called her. And if she'd been <i>my</i> lass--but +that's nother here nor there, and he's got t' Dovecot." +</p> + +<p> +"Shaw? <i>They're</i> old standards, is Shaws. Phoebe? They called her +mother Phoebe. Phoebe Johnson. She were a dainty lass! My father were +very fond of Phoebe Johnson. He said she allus put him i' mind of our +orchard on drying days; pink and white apple-blossom and clean clothes. +And yon's her daughter? Where d'ye say t'young chap come from? He don't +look like hereabouts." +</p> + +<p> +"He don't come from hereabouts. And yet he do come from hereabouts, as +one may say. Look ye here. He come from t' wukhus. That's the short and +the long of it." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>The workhouse!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Aye." +</p> + +<p> +Stupefaction. The crows chattering wildly overhead. +</p> + +<p> +"And he owns Darwin's Dovecot?" +</p> + +<p> +"He owns Darwin's Dovecot." +</p> + +<p> +"And how i' t' name o' all things did that come about'!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I'll tell thee. It was i' this fashion." +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +Not without reason does the wary writer put gossip in the mouths of +gaffers rather than of gammers. Male gossips love scandal as dearly as +female gossips do, and they bring to it the stronger relish and energies +of their sex. But these were country gaffers, whose speech--like +shadows--grows lengthy in the leisurely hours of eventide. The gentle +reader shall have the tale in plain narration. +</p> + +<p> +NOTE--It will be plain to the reader that the birds here described are +Rooks (<i>corvus frugilegus</i>). I have allowed myself to speak of them +by their generic or family name of Crow, this being a common country +practice. The genus <i>corvus</i>, or <i>Crow</i>, includes the Raven, +the Carrion Crow, the Hooded Crow, the Jackdaw, and the Rook. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE I. +</h3> + +<p> +One Saturday night (some eighteen years earlier than the date of this +gaffer-gossiping) the parson's daughter sat in her own room before the +open drawer of a bandy-legged black oak table, <i>balancing her +bags</i>. The bags were money-bags, and the matter shall be made clear +at once. +</p> + +<p> +In this parish, as in others, progress and the multiplication of weapons +with which civilization and the powers of goodness push their conquests +over brutality and the powers of evil, had added to the original duties +of the parish priest, a multifarious and all but impracticable variety +of offices; which, in ordinary and late conditions, would have been +performed by several more or less salaried clerks, bankers, accountants, +secretaries, librarians, club-committees, teachers, lecturers, discount +for ready-money dealers in clothing, boots, blankets, and coal, +domestic-servant agencies, caterers for the public amusement, and +preservers of the public peace. +</p> + +<p> +The country parson (no less than statesmen and princes, than men of +science and of letters) is responsible for a great deal of his work that +is really done by the help-mate--woman. This explains why five out of +the young lady's moneybags bore the following inscriptions in +marking-ink: "Savings' bank," "Clothing club," "Library," "Magazines and +hymn-books," "Three-halfpenny club"--and only three bore reference to +private funds, as--"House-money"--"Allowance "--"Charity." +</p> + +<p> +It was the bag bearing this last and greatest name which the parson's +daughter now seized and emptied into her lap. A ten-shilling piece, some +small silver, and twopence halfpenny jingled together, and roused a +silver-haired, tawny-pawed terrier, who left the hearthrug and came to +smell what was the matter. His mistress's right hand--absently +caressing--quieted his feelings; and with the left she held the +ten-shilling piece between finger and thumb, and gazed thoughtfully at +the other bags as they squatted in a helpless row, with twine-tied +mouths hanging on all sides. It was only after anxious consultation with +an account-book that the half-sovereign was exchanged for silver; thanks +to the clothing-club bag, which looked leaner for the accommodation. In +the three-halfpenny bag (which bulged with pence) some silver was +further solved into copper, and the charity bag was handsomely distended +before the whole lot was consigned once more to the table-drawer. +</p> + +<p> +Any one accustomed to book-keeping must smile at this bag-keeping of +accounts; but the parson's daughter could never "bring her mind" to +keeping the funds apart on paper, and mixing the actual cash. Indeed, +she could never have brought her conscience to it. Unless she had taken +the tenth for "charity" from her dress and pocket-money in coin, and put +it then and there into the charity bag, this self-imposed rule of the +duty of almsgiving would not have been performed to her soul's peace. +</p> + +<p> +The problem which had been exercising her mind that Saturday night was +how to spend what was left of her benevolent fund in a treat for the +children of the neighboring work-house. The fund was low, and this had +decided the matter. The following Wednesday would be her twenty-first +birthday. If the children came to tea with her, the foundation of the +entertainment would, in the natural course of things, be laid in the +Vicarage kitchen. The charity bag would provide the extras of the feast. +Nuts, toys, and the like. +</p> + +<p> +When the parson's daughter locked the drawer of the bandy-legged table, +she did so with the vigor of one who has made up her mind, and set about +the rest of her Saturday night's duties without further delay. +</p> + +<p> +She put out her Sunday clothes, and her Bible and Prayer-book, and +class-book and pencil, on the oak chest at the foot of the bed. She +brushed and combed the silver-haired terrier, who looked abjectly +depressed whilst this was doing, and preposterously proud when it was +done. She washed her own hair, and studied her Sunday-school lesson for +the morrow whilst it was drying. She spread a colored quilt at the foot +of her white one for the terrier to sleep on--a slur which he always +deeply resented. +</p> + +<p> +Then she went to bed, and slept as one ought to sleep on Saturday night, +who is bound to be at the Sunday School by 9.15 on the following +morning, with a clear mind on the Rudiments of the Faith, the history of +the Prophet Elisha, and the destinations of each of the parish +magazines. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE II. +</h3> + +<p> +Fatherless--motherless--homeless! +</p> + +<p> +A little work-house-boy, with a swarthy face and tidily-cropped black +hair, as short and thick as the fur of a mole, was grubbing, not quite +so cleverly as a mole, in the work-house garden. +</p> + +<p> +He had been set to weed, but the weeding was very irregularly performed, +for his eyes and heart were in the clouds, as he could see them over the +big boundary wall. For there--now dark against the white, now white +against the gray--some Air Tumbler pigeons were turning somersaults on +their homeward way, at such short and regular intervals that they seemed +to be tying knots in their lines of flight. +</p> + +<p> +It was too much! The small gardener shamelessly abandoned his duties, +and, curving his dirty paws on each side of his mouth, threw his whole +soul into shouting words of encouragement to the distant birds. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a good un! On with thee! Over ye go! Oo--ooray!" +</p> + +<p> +It was this last prolonged cheer which drowned the sound of footsteps on +the path behind him, so that if he had been a tumbler pigeon himself he +could not have jumped more nimbly when a man's hand fell upon his +shoulder. Up went his arms to shield his ears from a well-merited +cuffing; but fate was kinder to him than he deserved. It was only an old +man (prematurely aged with drink and consequent poverty), whose faded +eyes seemed to rekindle as he also gazed after the pigeons, and spoke as +one who knows. +</p> + +<p> +"Yon's Daddy Darwin's Tumblers." +</p> + +<p> +This old pauper had only lately come into "the House" (the house that +never was a home!), and the boy clung eagerly to his flannel sleeve, and +plied him thick and fast with questions about the world without the +workhouse-walls, and about the happy owner of those yet happier +creatures who were free not only on the earth, but in the skies. +</p> + +<p> +The poor old pauper was quite as willing to talk as the boy was to +listen. It restored some of that self-respect which we lose under the +consequences of our follies to be able to say that Daddy Darwin and he +had been mates together, and had had pigeon-fancying in common "many a +long year afore" he came into the House. +</p> + +<p> +And so these two made friendship over such matters as will bring man and +boy together to the end of time. And the old pauper waxed eloquent on +the feats of Homing Birds and Tumblers, and on the points of Almonds and +Barbs, Fantails and Pouters; sprinkling his narrative also with high +sounding and heterogeneous titles, such as Dragons and Archangels, Blue +Owls and Black Priests, Jacobines, English Horsemen and Trumpeters. And +through much boasting of the high stakes he had had on this and that +pigeon-match then, and not a few bitter complaints of the harsh +hospitality of the House he "had come to" now, it never seemed to occur +to him to connect the two, or to warn the lad who hung upon his lips +that one cannot eat his cake with the rash appetites of youth, and yet +hope to have it for the support and nourishment of his old age. +</p> + +<p> +The longest story the old man told was of a "bit of a trip" he had made +to Liverpool, to see some Antwerp Carriers flown from thence to Ghent, +and he fixed the date of this by remembering that his twin sons were +born in his absence, and that though their birthday was the very day of +the race, his "missus turned stoopid," as women (he warned the boy) are +apt to do, and refused to have them christened by uncommon names +connected with the fancy. All the same, he bet the lads would have been +nicknamed the Antwerp Carriers, and known as such to the day of their +death, if this had not come so soon and so suddenly, of croup; when (as +it oddly chanced) he was off on another "bit of a holiday" to fly some +pigeons of his own in Lincolnshire. +</p> + +<p> +This tale had not come to an end when a voice of authority called for +"Jack March," who rubbed his mole-like head, and went ruefully off, +muttering that he should "catch it now." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure enough! sure enough!" chuckled the unamiable old pauper. +</p> + +<p> +But again fate was kinder to the lad than his friend. His negligent +weeding passed unnoticed, because he was wanted in a hurry to join the +other children in the school-room. The parson's daughter had come, the +children were about to sing to her, and Jack's voice could not be +dispensed with. +</p> + +<p> +He "cleaned himself" with alacrity, and taking his place in the circle +of boys standing with their hands behind their backs, he lifted up a +voice worthy of a cathedral choir, whilst varying the monotony of sacred +song by secretly snatching at the tail of the terrier as it went +snuffing round the legs of the group. And in this feat he proved as much +superior to the rest of the boys (who also tried it) as he excelled them +in the art of singing. +</p> + +<p> +Later on he learned that the young lady had come to invite them all to +have tea with her on her birthday. Later still he found the old pauper +once more, and questioned him closely about the village and the +Vicarage, and as to which of the parishioners kept pigeons, and where. +</p> + +<p> +And when he went to his straw bed that night, and his black head +throbbed with visions and high hopes, these were not entirely of the +honor of drinking tea with a pretty young lady, and how one should +behave himself in such abashing circumstances. He did not even dream +principally of the possibility of getting hold of that silver-haired, +tawny-pawed dog by the tail under freer conditions than those of this +afternoon, though that was a refreshing thought. +</p> + +<p> +What kept him long awake was thinking of this. From the top of an old +walnut-tree at the top of a field at the back of the Vicarage, you could +see a hill, and on the top of the hill some farm buildings. And it was +here (so the old pauper had told him) that those pretty pigeons lived, +who, though free to play about among the clouds, yet condescended to +make an earthly home--in Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE III. + +</h3> +<p> +Two and two, girls and boys, the young lady's guests marched down to the +Vicarage. The school-mistress was anxious that each should carry his and +her tin mug, so as to give as little trouble as possible; but this was +resolutely declined, much to the children's satisfaction, who had their +walk with free hands, and their tea out of teacups and saucers, like +anybody else. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fine day, and all went well. The children enjoyed themselves, +and behaved admirably into the bargain. There was only one suspicion of +misconduct, and the matter was so far from clear that the parson's +daughter hushed it up, and, so to speak, dismissed the case. +</p> + +<p> +The children were playing at some game in which Jack March was supposed +to excel, but when they came to look for him he could nowhere be found. +At last he was discovered, high up among the branches of an old +walnut-tree at the top of the field, and though his hands were unstained +and his pockets empty, the gardener, who had been the first to spy him, +now loudly denounced him as an ungrateful young thief. Jack, with +swollen eyes and cheeks besmirched with angry tears, was vehemently +declaring that he had only climbed the tree to "have a look at Master +Darwin's pigeons," and had not picked so much as a leaf, let alone a +walnut; and the gardener, "shaking the truth out of him" by the collar +of his fustian jacket, was preaching loudly on the sin of adding +falsehood to theft, when the parson's daughter came up, and, in the end, +acquitted poor Jack, and gave him leave to amuse himself as he pleased. +</p> + +<p> +It did not please Jack to play with his comrades just then. He felt +sulky and aggrieved. He would have liked to play with the terrier who +had stood by him in his troubles, and barked at the gardener; but that +little friend now trotted after his mistress, who had gone to +choir-practice. +</p> + +<p> +Jack wandered about among the shrubberies. By-and-by he heard sounds of +music, and led by these he came to a gate in a wall, dividing the +Vicarage garden from the churchyard. Jack loved music, and the organ and +the voices drew him on till he reached the church porch; but there he +was startled by a voice that was not only not the voice of song, but was +the utterance of a moan so doleful that it seemed the outpouring of all +his lonely, and outcast, and injured feelings in one comprehensive howl. +</p> + +<p> +It was the voice of the silver-haired terrier. He was sitting in the +porch, his nose up, his ears down, his eyes shut, his mouth open, +bewailing in bitterness of spirit the second and greater crook of his +lot. +</p> + +<p> +To what purpose were all the caresses and care and indulgence of his +mistress, the daily walks, the weekly washings and combings, the +constant companionship, when she betrayed her abiding sense of his +inferiority, first, by not letting him sleep on the white quilt, and +secondly, by never allowing him to go to church? +</p> + +<p> +Jack shared the terrier's mood. What were tea and plum-cake to him, when +his pauper-breeding was so stamped upon him that the gardener was free +to say--"A nice tale too! What's thou to do wi' doves, and thou a +work'us lad?"--and to take for granted that he would thieve and lie if +he got the chance? +</p> + +<p> +His disabilities were not the dog's, however. The parish church was his +as well as another's, and he crept inside and leaned against one of the +stone pillars, as if it were a big, calm friend. +</p> + +<p> +Far away, under the transept, a group of boys and men held their music +near to their faces in the waning light. Among them towered the burly +choirmaster, baton in hand. The parson's daughter was at the organ. Well +accustomed to produce his voice to good purpose, the choirmaster's words +were clearly to be heard throughout the building, and it was on the +subject of articulation and emphasis, and the like, that he was +speaking; now and then throwing in an extra aspirate in the energy of +that enthusiasm without which teaching is not worth the name. +</p> + +<p> +"That'll not do. We must have it altogether different. You two lads are +singing like bumblebees in a pitcher--border there, boys!--it's no +laughing matter--put down those papers and keep your eyes on me--inflate +the chest--" (his own seemed to fill the field of vision) "and try and +give forth those noble words as if you'd an idea what they meant." +</p> + +<p> +No satire was intended or taken here, but the two boys, who were +practicing their duet in an anthem, laid down the music, and turned +their eyes on their teacher. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll run through the recitative," he added, "and take your time from +the stick. And mind that OH." +</p> + +<p> +The parson's daughter struck a chord, and then the burly choirmaster +spoke with the voice of melody: +</p> + +<p> +"My heart is disquieted within me. My heart--my heart is disquieted +within me. And the fear of death is fallen--is fallen upon me." +</p> + +<p> +The terrier moaned without, and Jack thought no boy's voice could be +worth listening to after that of the choirmaster. But he was wrong. A +few more notes from the organ, and then, as night-stillness in a wood is +broken by the nightingale, so upon the silence of the church a +boy-alto's voice broke forth in obedience to the choirmaster's uplifted +hand: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Then</i>, I said--I said----" +</p> + +<p> +Jack gasped, but even as he strained his eyes to see what such a singer +could look like, with higher, clearer notes the soprano rose above him +--"Then I sa--a--id," and the duet began: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh that I had wings--O that I had wings like a dove!" +</p> + +<p> +<i>Soprano</i>.--"Then would I flee away." <i>Alto</i>.--"Then would I +flee away." <i>Together</i>.--"And be at rest--flee away and be at +rest." +</p> + +<p> +The clear young voices soared and chased each other among the arches, as +if on the very pinions for which they prayed. Then--swept from their +seats by an upward sweep of the choirmaster's arms--the chorus rose, as +birds rise, and carried on the strain. +</p> + +<p> +It was not a very fine composition, but this final chorus had the +singular charm of fugue. And as the voices mourned like doves, "Oh that +I had wings!" and pursued each other with the plaintive passage, "Then +would I flee away--then would I flee away----," Jack's ears knew no +weariness of the repetition. It was strangely like watching the rising +and falling of Daddy Darwin's pigeons, as they tossed themselves by +turns upon their homeward flight. +</p> + +<p> +After the fashion of the piece and period, the chorus was repeated, and +the singers rose to supreme effort. The choirmaster's hands flashed +hither and thither, controlling, inspiring, directing. He sang among the +tenors. +</p> + +<p> +Jack's voice nearly choked him with longing to sing too. Could words of +man go more deeply home to a young heart caged within workhouse walls? +</p> + +<p> +"Oh that I had wings like a dove! Then would I flee away--" the +choirmaster's white hands were fluttering downwards in the dusk, and the +chorus sank with them--"flee away and be at rest!" +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE IV. +</h3> + +<p> +Jack March had a busy little brain, and his nature was not of the limp +type that sits down with a grief. That most memorable tea-party had +fired his soul with two distinct ambitions. First, to be a choir-boy; +and, secondly, to dwell in Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. He turned the matter +over in his mind, and patched together the following facts: +</p> + +<p> +The Board of Guardians meant to apprentice him, Jack, to some master, at +the earliest opportunity. Daddy Darwin (so the old pauper told him) was +a strange old man, who had come down in the world, and now lived quite +alone, with not a soul to help him in the house or outside it. He was +"not to say <i>mazelin</i> yet, but getting helpless, and uncommon +mean." +</p> + +<p> +A nephew came one fine day and fetched away the old pauper, to his great +delight. It was by their hands that Jack despatched a letter, which the +nephew stamped and posted for him, and which was duly delivered on the +following morning to Mr. Darwin of the Dovecot. +</p> + +<p> +The old man had no correspondents, and he looked long at the letter +before he opened it. It did credit to the teaching of the workhouse +schoolmistress: +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "HONORED SIR, +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "They call me Jack March. I'm a workhouse lad, but, sir, I'm a<br> + good one, and the Board means to 'prentice me next time. Sir,<br> + if you face the Board and take me out you shall never regret it.<br> + Though I says it as shouldn't I'm a handy lad. I'll clean a floor<br> + with any one, and am willing to work early and late, and at your<br> + time of life you're not what you was, and them birds must take a<br> + deal of seeing to. I can see them from the garden when I'm set<br> + to weed, and I never saw nought like them. Oh, sir, I do beg and<br> + pray you let me mind your pigeons. You'll be none the worse of a<br> + lad about the place, and I shall be happy all the days of my life.<br> + Sir, I'm not unthankful, but please GOD, I should like to have<br> + a home, and to be with them house doves. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "From your humble servent--hoping to be-- +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "JACK MARCH." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Darwin, Sir. I love them Tumblers as if they was my own." +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin thought hard and thought long over that letter. He changed +his mind fifty times a day. But Friday was the Board day, and when +Friday came he "faced the Board." And the little workhouse lad went home +to Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE V. +</h3> + +<p> +The bargain was oddly made, but it worked well. Whatever Jack's +parentage may have been (and he was named after the stormy month in +which he had been born), the blood that ran in his veins could not have +been beggar's blood. There was no hopeless, shiftless, invincible +idleness about him. He found work for himself when it was not given him +to do, and he attached himself passionately and proudly to all the +belongings of his new home. +</p> + +<p> +"Yon lad of yours seem handy enough, Daddy;--for a vagrant, as one may +say." Daddy Darwin was smoking over his garden wall, and Mrs. Shaw, from +the neighboring farm, had paused in her walk for a chat. She was a +notable housewife, and there was just a touch of envy in her sense of +the improved appearance of the doorsteps and other visible points of the +Dovecot. Daddy Darwin took his pipe out of his mouth to make way for the +force of his reply: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vagrant!</i> Nay, missus, yon's no vagrant. <i>He's fettling up all +along.</i> Jack's the sort if he finds a key he'll look for the lock; if +ye give him a knife-blade he'll fashion a heft. Why, a vagrant's a chap +that, if he'd all your maester owns to-morrow, he'd be on the tramp +again afore t' year were out, and three years wouldn't repair the +mischief he'd leave behind him. A vagrant's a chap that if ye lend him a +thing he loses it; if ye give him a thing he abuses it----" +</p> + +<p> +"That's true enough, and there's plenty servant-girls the same," put in +Mrs. Shaw. +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe there be, ma'am--maybe there be; vagrants' children, I reckon. +But yon little chap I got from t' House comes of folk that's had stuff +o' their own, and cared for it--choose who they were." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Daddy," said his neighbor, not without malice, "I'll wish you a +good evening. You've got a good bargain out of the parish, it seems." +</p> + +<p> +But Daddy Darwin only chuckled, and stirred up the ashes in the bowl of +his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +"The same to you, ma'am--the same to you. Aye! he's a good bargain--a +very good bargain is Jack March." +</p> + +<p> +It might be supposed from the foregoing dialogue that Daddy Darwin was a +model householder, and the little workhouse boy the neatest creature +breathing. But the gentle reader who may imagine this is much mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin's Dovecot was freehold, and when he inherited it from his +father there was, still attached to it a good bit of the land that had +passed from father to son through more generations than the church +registers were old enough to record. But the few remaining acres were so +heavily mortgaged that they had to be sold. So that a bit of house +property elsewhere, and the old homestead itself, were all that was +left. And Daddy Darwin had never been the sort of man to retrieve his +luck at home, or to seek it abroad. +</p> + +<p> +That he had inherited a somewhat higher and more refined nature than his +neighbors had rather hindered than helped him to prosper. And he had +been unlucky in love. When what energies he had were in their prime, his +father's death left him with such poor prospects that the old farmer to +whose daughter he was betrothed broke off the match and married her +elsewhere. His Alice was not long another man's wife. She died within a +year from her wedding-day, and her husband married again within a year +from her death. Her old lover was no better able to mend his broken +heart than his broken fortunes. He only banished women from the Dovecot, +and shut himself up from the coarse consolation of his neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +In this loneliness, eating a kindly heart out in bitterness of spirit, +with all that he ought to have had-- +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + To plough and sow<br> + And reap and mow-- +</p> + +<p> +gone from him, and in the hands of strangers; the pigeons, for which the +Dovecot had always been famous, became the business and the pleasure of +his life. But of late years his stock had dwindled, and he rarely went +to pigeon-matches or competed in shows and races. A more miserable fancy +rivalled his interest in pigeon fancying. His new hobby was hoarding; +and money that, a few years back, he would have freely spent to improve +his breed of Tumblers or back his Homing Birds he now added with +stealthy pleasure to the store behind the secret panel of a fine old oak +bedstead that had belonged to the Darwyn who owned Dovecot when the +sixteenth century was at its latter end. In this bedstead Daddy slept +lightly of late, as old men will, and he had horrid dreams, which old +men need not have. The queer faces carved on the panels (one of which +hid the money hole) used to frighten him when he was a child. They did +not frighten him now by their grotesque ugliness, but when he looked at +them, <i>and knew which was which</i>, he dreaded the dying out of +twilight into dark, and dreamed of aged men living alone, who had been +murdered for their savings. These growing fears had had no small share +in deciding him to try Jack March; and to see the lad growing stronger, +nimbler, and more devoted to his master's interests day by day, was a +nightly comfort to the poor old hoarder in the bed-head. +</p> + +<p> +As to his keen sense of Jack's industry and carefulness, it was part of +the incompleteness of Daddy Darwin's nature, and the ill-luck of his +career, that he had a sensitive perception of order and beauty, and a +shrewd observation of ways of living and qualities of character, and yet +had allowed his early troubles to blight him so completely that he never +put forth an effort to rise above the ruin, of which he was at least as +conscious as his neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +That Jack was not the neatest creature breathing, one look at him, as he +stood with pigeons on his head and arms and shoulders, would have been +enough to prove. As the first and readiest repudiation of his workhouse +antecedents he had let his hair grow till it hung in the wildest +elf-locks, and though the terms of his service with Daddy Darwin would +not, in any case, have provided him with handsome clothes, such as he +had were certainly not the better for any attention he bestowed upon +them. As regarded the Dovecot, however, Daddy Darwin had not done more +than justice to his bargain. A strong and grateful attachment to his +master, and a passionate love for the pigeons he tended, kept Jack +constantly busy in the service of both; the old pigeon-fancier taught +him the benefits of scrupulous cleanliness in the pigeon-cote, and Jack +"stoned" the kitchen-floor and the doorsteps on his own responsibility. +The time did come when he tidied up himself. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE VI. +</h3> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin had made the first breach in his solitary life of his own +free will, but it was fated to widen. The parson's daughter soon heard +that he had got a lad from the workhouse, the very boy who sang so well +and had climbed the walnut-tree to look at Daddy Darwin's pigeons. The +most obvious parish questions at once presented themselves to the young +lady's mind. "Had the boy been christened? Did he go to Church and +Sunday School? Did he say his prayers and know his Catechism? Had he a +Sunday suit? Would he do for the choir?" +</p> + +<p> +Then, supposing (a not uncommon case) that the boy <i>had</i> been +christened, <i>said</i> he said his prayers, <i>knew</i> his Catechism, +and <i>was</i> ready for school, church, and choir, but had not got a +Sunday suit--a fresh series of riddles propounded themselves to her busy +brain. Would her father yield up his everyday coat and take his Sunday +one into weekday wear? Could the charity bag do better than pay the +tailor's widow for adapting this old coat to the new chorister's back, +taking it in at the seams, turning it wrong-side out, and getting new +sleeves out of the old tails? Could she herself spare the boots which +the village cobbler had just re-soled for her--somewhat clumsily--and +would the "allowance" bag bear this strain? Might she hope to coax an +old pair of trowsers out of her cousin, who was spending his Long +Vacation at the Vicarage, and who never reckoned very closely with +<i>his</i> allowance, and kept no charity bag at all? Lastly would "that +old curmudgeon at the Dovecot" let his little farm-boy go to church and +school and choir? +</p> + +<p> +"I must go and persuade him," said the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +What she said, and what (at the time) Daddy Darwin said, Jack never +knew. He was at high sport with the terrier round the big sweet-brier +bush, when he saw his old master slitting the seams of his +weather-beaten coat in the haste with which he plucked crimson clove +carnations as if they had been dandelions, and presented them, not +ungracefully, to the parson's daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Jack knew why she had come, and strained his ears to catch his own name. +But Daddy Darwin was promising pipings of the cloves. +</p> + +<p> +"They are such dear old-fashioned things," said she, burying her nose in +the bunch. +</p> + +<p> +"We're old-fashioned altogether, here, Miss," said Daddy Darwin, looking +wistfully at the tumble-down house behind them. +</p> + +<p> +"You're very pretty here," said she, looking also, and thinking what a +sketch it would make, if she could keep on friendly terms with this old +recluse, and get leave to sit in the garden. Then her conscience smiting +her for selfishness, she turned her big eyes on him and put out her +small hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Darwin, very much obliged to you +indeed. And I hope that Jack will do credit to your kindness. And thank +you so much for the cloves," she added, hastily changing a subject which +had cost some argument, and which she did not wish to have reopened. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin had thoughts of reopening it. He was slowly getting his +ideas together to say that the lad should see how he got along with the +school before trying the choir, when he found the young lady's hand in +his, and had to take care not to hurt it, whilst she rained thanks on +him for the flowers. +</p> + +<p> +"You're freely welcome, Miss," was what he did say after all. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening, however, he was very moody, but Jack was dying of +curiosity, and at last could contain himself no longer. +</p> + +<p> +"What did Miss Jenny want, Daddy?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The old man looked very grim. +</p> + +<p> +"First to make a fool of me, and i' t' second place to make a fool of +thee," was his reply. And he added with pettish emphasis, "They're all +alike, gentle and simple. Lad, lad! If ye'd have any peace of your life +never let a woman's foot across your threshold. Steek t' door of your +house--if ye own one--and t' door o' your heart--if ye own one--and then +ye'll never rue. Look at this coat!" +</p> + +<p> +And the old man went grumpily to bed, and dreamed that Miss Jenny had +put her little foot over his threshold, and that he had shown her the +secret panel, and let her take away his savings. +</p> + +<p> +And Jack went to bed, and dreamed that he went to school, and showed +himself to Phoebe Shaw in his Sunday suit. +</p> + +<p> +This dainty little damsel had long been making havoc in Jack's heart. +The attraction must have been one of contrast, for whereas Jack was +black and grubby, and had only week-day clothes--which were ragged at +that--Phoebe was fair, and exquisitely clean, and quite terribly tidy. +Her mother was the neatest woman in the parish. It was she who was wont +to say to her trembling handmaid, "I hope I can black a grate without +blacking myself." But little Phoebe promised so far to out-do her +mother, that it seemed doubtful if she could "black herself" if she +tried. Only the bloom of childhood could have resisted the polishing +effects of yellow soap, as Phoebe's brow and cheeks did resist it. Her +shining hair was--compressed into a plait that would have done credit to +a rope-maker. Her pinafores were speckless, and as to her white Whitsun +frock--Jack could think of nothing the least like Phoebe in that, except +a snowy fantail strutting about the Dovecot roof; and, to say the truth, +the likeness was most remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +It has been shown that Jack March had a mind to be master of his fate, +and he did succeed in making friends with little Phoebe Shaw. This was +before Miss Jenny's visit, but the incident shall be recorded here. +</p> + +<p> +Early on Sunday mornings it was Jack's custom to hide his work-day garb +in an angle of the ivy-covered wall of the Dovecot garden, only letting +his head appear over the top, from whence he watched to see Phoebe pass +on her way to Sunday School, and to bewilder himself with the sight of +her starched frock, and her airs with her Bible and Prayer-book, and +class card, and clean pocket-handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +Now, amongst the rest of her Sunday paraphernalia, Phoebe always carried +a posy, made up with herbs and some strong smelling flowers. +Countrywomen take mint and southernwood to a long hot service, as fine +ladies take smelling-bottles (for it is a pleasant delusion with some +writers that the weaker sex is a strong sex in the working classes). And +though Phoebe did not suffer from "fainty feels" like her mother, she +and her little playmates took posies to Sunday School, and refreshed +their nerves in the stream of question and answer, and hair oil and +corduroy, with all the airs of their elders. +</p> + +<p> +One day she lost her posy on her way to school, and her loss was Jack's +opportunity. He had been waiting half-an-hour among the ivy, when he saw +her just below him, fuzzling round and round like a kitten chasing +its tail. He sprang to the top of the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"Have ye lost something?" he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +"My posy," said poor Phoebe, lifting her sweet eyes, which were full of +tears. +</p> + +<p> +A second spring brought Jack into the dust at her feet, where he +searched most faithfully, and was wandering along the path by which she +had come, when she called him back. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind," she said. "They'll most likely be dusty by now." +</p> + +<p> +Jack was not used to think the worse of anything for a coating of dust; +but he paused, trying to solve the perpetual problem of his situation, +and find out what the little maid really wanted. +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas only Old Man and marygolds," said she. "They're common enough." +</p> + +<p> +A light illumined Jack's understanding. +</p> + +<p> +"We've Old Man i' plenty. Wait, and I'll get thee a fresh posy." And he +began to reclimb the wall. +</p> + +<p> +But Phoebe drew nearer. She stroked down her frock, and spoke mincingly +but confidentially. "My mother says Daddy Darwin has red bergamot i' his +garden. We've none i' ours. My mother always says there's nothing like +red bergamot to take to church. She says it's a deal more refreshing +than Old Man, and not so common. My mother says she's always meaning to +ask Daddy Darwin to let us have a root to set; but she doesn't often see +him, and when she does she doesn't think on. But she always says there's +nothing like red bergamot, and my Aunt Nancy, she says the same." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Red</i> is it?" cried Jack. "You wait there, love." And before +Phoebe could say him nay, he was over the wall and back again with his +arms full. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it any o' this lot?" he inquired, dropping a small haycock of +flowers at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't ye know one from t'other?" asked Phoebe, with round eyes of +reproach. And spreading her clean kerchief on the grass she laid her +Bible and Prayer-book and class card on it, and set vigorously and +nattily to work, picking one flower and another from the fragrant +confusion, nipping the stalks to even lengths, rejecting withered +leaves, and instructing Jack as she proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose ye know a rose? That's a double velvet. [<a href="#f4">4</a>] +They dry sweeter than lavender for linen. These dark red +things is pheasants' eyes; but, dear, dear, what a lad! Ye'd dragged it +up by the roots! And eh! what will Master Darwin say when he misses +these pink hollyhocks And only in bud, too! <i>There's</i> red Bergamot: +smell it!" [<a href="#f5">5</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f4">4.</a> Double +velvet, an old summer rose, not common now It is described by +Parkinson. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f5">5.</a> Red Bergamot, or Twinflower; <i>Monarda +Didyma</i>. +</p> + +<p> +It had barely touched Jack's willing nose when it was hastily withdrawn. +Phoebe had caught sight of Polly and Susan Smith coming to school, and +crying that she should be late and must run, the little maid picked up +her paraphernalia (not forgetting the red bergamot), and fled down the +lane. And Jack, with equal haste, snatched up the tell-tale heap of +flowers and threw them into a disused pig-sty, where it was unlikely +that Daddy Darwin would go to look for his poor pink hollyhocks. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE VII. +</h3> + +<p> +April was a busy month in the Dovecot. Young birds were chipping the +egg, parent birds were feeding their young or relieving each other on +the nest, and Jack and his master were constantly occupied and excited. +</p> + +<p> +One night Daddy Darwin went to bed; but, though he was tired, he did not +sleep long. He had sold a couple of handsome but quarrelsome pigeons, to +advantage, and had added their price to the hoard in the bed-head. This +had renewed his old fears, for the store was becoming very valuable; and +he wondered if it had really escaped Jack's quick observation, or +whether the boy knew about it, and, perhaps, talked about it. As he lay +and worried himself he fancied he heard sounds without--the sound of +footsteps and of voices. Then his heart beat till he could hear nothing +else; then he could undoubtedly hear nothing at all; then he certainly +heard something which probably was rats. And so he lay in a cold sweat, +and pulled the rug over his face, and made up his mind to give the money +to the parson, for the poor, if he was spared till daylight. +</p> + +<p> +He <i>was</i> spared till daylight, and had recovered himself, and +settled to leave the money where it was, when Jack rushed in from the +pigeon-house with a face of dire dismay. He made one or two futile +efforts to speak, and then unconsciously used the words Shakespeare has +put into the mouth of Macduff, "All my pretty 'uns!" and so burst into +tears. +</p> + +<p> +And when the old man made his way to the pigeon-house, followed by poor +Jack, he found that the eggs were cold and the callow young shivering in +deserted nests, and that every bird was gone. And then he remembered the +robbers, and was maddened by the thought that whilst he lay expecting +thieves to break in and steal his money he had let them get safely off +with his whole stock of pigeons. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin had never taken up arms against his troubles, and this one +crushed him. +</p> + +<p> +The fame and beauty of his house-doves were all that was left of +prosperity about the place, and now there was nothing +left--<i>nothing</i>! Below this dreary thought lay a far more bitter +one, which he dared not confide to Jack. He had heard the robbers; he +might have frightened them away; he might at least have given the lad a +chance to save his pets, and not a care had crossed his mind except for +the safety of his own old bones, and of those miserable savings in the +bed-head, which he was enduring so much to scrape together (oh satire!) +for a distant connection whom he had never seen. He crept back to the +kitchen, and dropped in a heap upon the settle, and muttered to himself. +Then his thoughts wandered. Supposing the pigeons were gone for good, +would he ever make up his mind to take that money out of the money-hole, +and buy a fresh stock? He knew he never would, and shrank into a meaner +heap upon the settle as he said so to himself. He did not like to look +his faithful lad in the face. +</p> + +<p> +Jack looked him in the face, and, finding no help there, acted pretty +promptly behind his back. He roused the parish constable, and fetched +that functionary to the Dovecot before he had had bite or sup to break +his fast. He spread a meal for him and Daddy, and borrowed the Shaws' +light cart whilst they were eating it. The Shaws were good farmer-folk, +they sympathized most fully; and Jack was glad of a few words of pity +from Phoebe. She said she had watched the pretty pets "many a score of +times," which comforted more than one of Jack's heartstrings. Phoebe's +mother paid respect to his sense and promptitude. He had acted exactly +as she would have done. +</p> + +<p> +"Daddy was right enough about yon lad," she admitted. "He's not one to +let the grass grow under his feet." +</p> + +<p> +And she gave him a good breakfast whilst the horse was being "put to." +It pleased her that Jack jumped up and left half a delicious cold +tea-cake behind him when the cart-wheels grated outside. Mrs. Shaw sent +Phoebe to put the cake in his pocket, and "the Measter" helped Jack in +and took the reins. He said he would "see Daddy Darwin through it," and +added the weight of his opinion to that of the constable, that the +pigeons had been taken to "a beastly low place" (as he put it) that had +lately been set up for pigeon-shooting in the outskirts of the +neighboring town. +</p> + +<p> +They paused no longer at the Dovecot than was needed to hustle Daddy +Darwin on to the seat beside Master Shaw, and for Jack to fill his +pockets with peas, and take his place beside the constable. He had +certain ideas of his own on the matter, which were not confused by the +jogtrot of the light cart, which did give a final jumble to poor Daddy +Darwin's faculties. +</p> + +<p> +No wonder they were jumbled! The terrors of the night past, the shock of +the morning, the completeness of the loss, the piteous sight in the +pigeon-house, remorseful shame, and then--after all these years, during +which he had not gone half a mile from his own hearthstone--to be set up +for all the world to see, on the front seat of a market-cart, back to +back with the parish constable, and jogged off as if miles were nothing, +and crowded streets were nothing, and the Beaulieu Gardens were nothing; +Master Shaw talking away as easily as if they were sitting in two +armchairs, and making no more of "stepping into" a lawyer's office, and +"going on" to the Town Hall, than if he were talking of stepping up to +his own bedchamber or going out into the garden! +</p> + +<p> +That day passed like a dream, and Daddy Darwin remembered what happened +in it as one remembers visions of the night. +</p> + +<p> +He had a vision (a very unpleasing vision) of the proprietor of the +Beaulieu Gardens, a big greasy man, with sinister eyes very close +together, and a hook nose, and a heavy watch chain, and a bullying +voice. He browbeat the constable very soon, and even bullied Master Shaw +into silence. No help was to be had from him in his loud indignation at +being supposed to traffic with thieves. +</p> + +<p> +When he turned the tables by talking of slander, loss of time, and +compensation, Daddy Darwin smelt money, and tremblingly whispered to +Master Shaw to apologize and get out of it. "They're gone for good," he +almost sobbed: "Gone for good, like all t' rest! And I'll not be long +after 'em." +</p> + +<p> +But even as he spoke he heard a sound which made him lift up his head. +It was Jack's call at feeding-time to the pigeons at the Dovecot. And +quick following on this most musical and most familiar sound there came +another. The old man put both his lean hands behind his ears to be sure +that he heard it aright--the sound of wings--the wings of a dove! +</p> + +<p> +The other men heard it and ran in. Whilst they were wrangling, Jack had +slipped past them, and had made his way into a weird enclosure in front +of the pigeon-house. And there they found him, with all the captive +pigeons coming to his call; flying, fluttering, strutting, nestling from +head to foot of him, he scattering peas like hail. +</p> + +<p> +He was the first to speak, and not a choke in his voice. His iron +temperament was at white heat, and, as he afterwards said, he "cared no +more for yon dirty chap wi' the big nose, nor if he were a <i>ratten</i> +[<a href="#f6">6</a>] in a hay-loft!" +</p> + +<a name="f6">6</a>. <i>Anglicé</i> Rat. + +<p> +"These is ours," he said, shortly. "I'll count 'em over, and see if +they're right. There was only one young 'un that could fly. A white +'un." ("It's here," interpolated Master Shaw.) "I'll pack 'em i' yon," +and Jack turned his thumb to a heap of hampers in a corner. "T' carrier +can leave t' baskets at t' toll-bar next Saturday, and ye may send your +lad for 'em, if ye keep one." +</p> + +<p> +The proprietor of the Beaulieu Gardens was not a man easily abashed, but +most of the pigeons were packed before he had fairly resumed his +previous powers of speech. Then, as Master Shaw said, he talked "on the +other side of his mouth." Most willing was he to help to bring to +justice the scoundrels who had deceived him and robbed Mr. Darwin, but +he feared they would be difficult to trace. His own feeling was that of +wishing for pleasantness among neighbors. The pigeons had been found at +the Gardens. That was enough. He would be glad to settle the business +out of court. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin heard the chink of the dirty man's money, and would have +compounded the matter then and there. But not so the parish constable, +who saw himself famous; and not so Jack, who turned eyes of smouldering +fire on Master Shaw. +</p> + +<p> +"Maester Shaw! you'll not let them chaps get off? Daddy's mazelin' wi' +trouble, sir, but I reckon you'll see to it." +</p> + +<p> +"If it costs t' worth of the pigeons ten times over, I'll see to it, my +lad," was Master Shaw's reply. And the parish constable rose even to a +vein of satire as he avenged himself of the man who had slighted his +office. "Settle it out of court? Aye! I dare say. And send t' same chaps +to fetch 'em away again t' night after. Nay--bear a hand with this +hamper, Maester Shaw, if you please--if it's all t' same to you, Mr. +Proprietor, I think we shall have to trouble you to step up to t' Town +Hall by-and-by, and see if we can't get shut of them mistaking friends +o' yours for three months any way." +</p> + +<p> +If that day was a trying one to Daddy Darwin the night that followed it +was far worse. The thieves were known to the police, and the case was +down to come on at the Town Hall the following morning; but meanwhile +the constable thought fit to keep the pigeons under his own charge in +the village lock-up. Jack refused to be parted from his birds, and +remained with them, leaving Daddy Darwin alone in the Dovecot. He dared +not go to bed, and it was not a pleasant night that he spent, dozing +with weariness, and starting up with fright, in an arm-chair facing the +money-hole. +</p> + +<p> +Some things that he had been nervous about he got quite used to, +however. He bore himself with sufficient dignity in the publicity of the +Town Hall, where a great sensation was created by the pigeons being let +loose without, and coming to Jack's call. Some of them fed from the +boy's lips, and he was the hero of the hour, to Daddy Darwin's delight. +</p> + +<p> +Then the lawyer and the lawyer's office proved genial and comfortable to +him. He liked civil ways and smooth speech, and understood them far +better than Master Shaw's brevity and uncouthness. The lawyer chatted +kindly and intelligently; he gave Daddy Darwin wine and biscuit, and +talked of the long standing of the Darwin family and its vicissitudes; +he even took down some fat yellow books, and showed the old man how many +curious laws had been made from time to time for the special protection +of pigeons in Dovecots, very ancient statutes making the killing of a +house-dove felony. Then 1 James I. c. 29 awarded three months' +imprisonment "without bail or main price" to any person who should +"shoot at, kill, or destroy with any gun, crossbow, stone-bow, or +longbow, any house-dove or pigeon;" but allowed an alternative fine of +twenty shillings to be paid to the churchwardens of the parish for the +benefit of the poor. Daddy Darwin hoped there was no such alternative in +this case, and it proved that by 2 Geo. III. c. 29, the twenty-shilling +fine was transferred to the owner of birds; at which point another +client called, and the polite lawyer left Daddy to study the laws by +himself. +</p> + +<p> +It was when Jack as helping Master Shaw to put the horse into the cart, +after the trial was over, that the farmer said to him, "I don't want to +put you about, my lad, but I'm afraid you won't keep your master long. +T'old gentleman's breaking up, mark my words! Constable and me was going +into the <i>George</i> for a glass, and Master Darwin left us and went +back to the office. I says, 'What are ye going back to t' lawyer for?' +and he says, 'I don't mind telling you, Master Shaw, but it's to make my +will.' And off he goes. Now, there's only two more things between that +and death, Jack March! And one's the parson, and t' other's the doctor." +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE VIII. +</h3> + +<p> +Little Phoebe Shaw coming out of the day school, and picking her way +home to tea, was startled by folk running past her, and by a sound of +cheering from the far end of the village, which gradually increased in +volume, and was caught up by the bystanders as they ran. When Phoebe +heard that it was "Constable, and Master Shaw, and Daddy Darwin and his +lad, coming home, and the pigeons along wi' 'em," she felt inclined to +run too; but a fit of shyness came over her, and she demurely decided to +wait by the school-gate till they came her way. They did not come. They +stopped. What were they doing? Another bystander explained, "They're +shaking hands wi' Daddy, and I reckon they're making him put up t' birds +here, to see 'em go home to t' Dovecot." +</p> + +<p> +Phoebe ran as if for her life. She loved beast and bird as well as Jack +himself, and the fame of Daddy Darwin's doves was great. To see them put +up by him to fly home after such an adventure was a sight not lightly to +be forgone. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd had moved to a hillock in a neighboring field before she +touched its outskirts. By that time it pretty well numbered the +population of the village, from the oldest inhabitant to the youngest +that could run. Phoebe had her mother's courage and resource. Chirping +out feebly but clearly, "I'm Maester Shaw's little lass, will ye let me +through?" she was passed from hand to hand, till her little fingers +found themselves in Jack's tight clasp, and he fairly lifted her to her +father's side. +</p> + +<p> +She was just in time. Some of the birds had hung about Jack, nervous, or +expecting peas; but the hesitation was past. Free in the sweet +sunshine--beating down the evening air with silver wings and their +feathers like gold--ignorant of cold eggs and callow young dead in +deserted nests--sped on their way by such a roar as rarely shook the +village in its body corporate--they flew straight home--to Daddy +Darwin's Dovecot. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3> +SCENE IX. +</h3> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin lived a good many years after making his will, and the +Dovecot prospered in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +It would be more just to say that it prospered in the hands of Jack +March. +</p> + +<p> +By hook and by crook he increased the live stock about the place. Folk +were kind to one who had set so excellent an example to other farm lads, +though he lacked the primal virtue of belonging to the neighborhood. He +bartered pigeons for fowls, and some one gave him a sitting of eggs to +"see what he would make of 'em." Master Shaw gave him a little pig, with +kind words and good counsel; and Jack cleaned out the disused pigstys, +which were never disused again. He scrubbed his pigs with soap and water +as if they had been Christians, and the admirable animals regardless of +the pork they were coming to, did him infinite credit, and brought him a +profit into the bargain, which he spent on ducks' eggs, and other +additions to his farmyard family. +</p> + +<p> +The Shaws were very kind to him; and if Mrs. Shaw's secrets must be +told, it was because Phoebe was so unchangeably and increasingly kind to +him, that she sent the pretty maid (who had a knack of knowing her own +mind about things) to service. +</p> + +<p> +Jack March was a handsome, stalwart youth now, of irreproachable +conduct, and with qualities which Mrs. Shaw particularly prized; but he +was but a farm-lad, and no match for her daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Jack only saw his sweetheart once during several years. She had not been +well, and was at home for the benefit of "native air." He walked over +the hill with her as they returned from church, and lived on the +remembrance of that walk for two or three years more. Phoebe had given +him her Prayer-book to carry, and he had found a dead flower in it, and +had been jealous. She had asked if he knew what it was, and he had +replied fiercely that he did not, and was not sure that he cared to +know. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye never did know much about flowers," said Phoebe, demurely, "it's red +bergamot." +</p> + +<p> +"I love--red bergamot," he whispered penitently. "And thou owes me a +bit. I gave thee some once." And Phoebe had let him put the withered +bits into his own hymn-book, which was more than he deserved. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was still in the choir, and taught in the Sunday School where he +used to learn. The parson's daughter had had her own way; Daddy Darwin +grumbled at first, but in the end he got a bottle-green Sunday-coat out +of the oak-press that matched the bedstead, and put the house-key into +his pocket, and went to church too. Now, for years past he had not +failed to take his place, week by week, in the pew that was +traditionally appropriated to the use of the Darwins of Dovecot. In such +an hour the sordid cares of the secret panel weighed less heavily on his +soul, and the things that are not seen came nearer--the house not made +with hands, the treasures that rust and moth corrupt not, and which +thieves do not break through to steal. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Darwin died of old age. As his health failed, Jack nursed him with +the tenderness of a woman; and kind inquiries, and dainties which Jack +could not have cooked, came in from many quarters where it pleased the +old man to find that he was held in respect and remembrance. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, coming in from the farmyard, Jack found him sitting by +the kitchen-table as he lad left him, but with a dread look of change +upon his face. At first he feared there had been "a stroke," but Daddy +Darwin's mind was clear and his voice firmer than usual. +</p> + +<p> +"My lad," he said, "fetch me yon tea-pot out of the corner cupboard. T' +one wi' a pole-house [<a href="#f7">7</a>] painted on it, and some letters. Take care how ye +shift it. It were t' merry feast-pot [<a href="#f8">8</a>] at my christening, and yon's t' letters of my father's and +mother's names. Take off t' lid. There's two bits of paper in the +inside." +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f7">7</a>. A <i>pole-house</i> is a small dovecot +on the top of a pole. +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f8">8</a>. "Merry feast-pot" is a +name given to old pieces of ware, made in local potteries for local +festivals. +</p> + +<p> +Jack did as he was bid, and laid the papers (one small and yellow with +age, the other bigger, and blue, and neatly written upon) at his +master's right hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Read yon," said the old man, pushing the small one towards him. Jack +took it up wondering. It was the letter he had written from the +workhouse fifteen years before. That was all he could see. The past +surged up too thickly before his eyes, and tossing it impetuously from +him, he dropped on a chair by the table, and snatching Daddy Darwin's +hands he held them to his face with tears. +</p> + +<p> +"GOD bless thee!" he sobbed. "You've been a good maester to me!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Daddy</i>," wheezed the old man. "<i>Daddy</i>, not maester." And +drawing his right hand away, he laid it solemnly on the young man's +head. "GOD bless <i>thee</i>, and reward thee. What have I done i' my +feckless life to deserve a son? But if ever a lad earned a father and a +home, thou hast earned 'em, Jack March." +</p> + +<p> +He moved his hand again and laid it trembling on the paper. +</p> + +<p> +"Every word i' this letter ye've made good. Every word, even to t' bit +at the end. 'I love them tumblers as if they were my own,' says you. +Lift thee head, lad, and look at me. <i>They are thy own!</i>... Yon +blue paper's my last will and testament, made many a year back by Mr. +Brown, of Green Street, Solicitor, and a very nice gentleman too; and +witnessed by his clerks, two decent young chaps, and civil enough, but +with too much watchchain for their situation. Jack March, my son, I have +left thee maester of Dovecot and all that I have. And there's a bit of +money in t' bed-head that'll help thee to make a fair start, and to bury +me decently atop of my father and mother. Ye may let Bill Sexton toll an +hour-bell for me, for I'm a old standard, if I never were good for much. +Maybe I might ha' done better if things had happened in a different +fashion; but the Lord knows all. I'd like a hymn at the grave, Jack, if +the Vicar has no objections, and do thou sing if thee can. Don't fret, +my son, thou'fet no cause. Twas that sweet voice o' thine took me back +again to public worship, and it's not t' least of all I owe thee, Jack +March. A poor reason lad, for taking up with a neglected duty--a poor +reason--but the Lord is a GOD of mercy, or there'd be small chance for +most on us. If Miss Jenny and her husband come to t' Vicarage this +summer, say I left her my duty and an old man's blessing; and if she +wants any roots out of t' garden, give 'em her, and give her yon old +chest that stands in the back chamber. It belonged to an uncle of my +mother's--a Derbyshire man. They say her husband's a rich gentleman, and +treats her very well. I reckon she may have what she's a mind, new and +polished, but she's always for old lumber. They're a whimsical lot, +gentle and simple. A talking of <i>women</i>, Jack, I've a word to say, +if I can fetch my breath to say it. Lad! as sure as you're maester of +Dovecot, you'll give it a missus. Now take heed to me. If ye fetch any +woman home here but Phoebe Shaw, I'll <i>walk</i>, and scare ye away +from t' old place. I'm willing for Phoebe, and I charge ye to tell the +lass so hereafter. And tell her it's not because she's fair--too many on +'em are that; and not because she's thrifty and houseproud--her mother's +that, and she's no favorite of mine; but because I've watched her +whenever t' ould cat 's let her be at home, and it's my belief that she +loves ye, knowing nought of <i>this</i>" (he laid his hand upon the +will), "and that she'll stick to ye, choose what her folks may say. Aye, +aye, she's not one of t' sort that quits a falling house--<i>like +rattens</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Language fails to convey the bitterness which the old man put into these +last two words. It exhausted him, and his mind wandered. When he had to +some extent recovered himself he spoke again, but very feebly. +</p> + +<p> +"Tak' my duty to the Vicar, lad, Daddy Darwin's duty, and say he's at t' +last feather of the shuttle, and would be thankful for the Sacrament." +</p> + +<p> +The Parson had come and gone. Daddy Darwin did not care to lie down, he +breathed with difficulty; so Jack made him easy in a big armchair, and +raked up the fire with cinders, and took a chair on the other side of +the hearth to watch with him. The old man slept comfortably and at last, +much wearied, the young man dozed also. +</p> + +<p> +He awoke because Daddy Darwin moved, but for a moment he thought he must +be dreaming. So erect the old man stood, and with such delight in his +wide-open eyes. They were looking over Jack's head. +</p> + +<p> +All that the lad had never seen upon his face seemed to have come back +to it--youth, hope, resolution, tenderness. His lips were trembling with +the smile of acutest joy. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he stretched out his arms, and crying, "Alice!" started forward +and fell--dead--on the breast of his adopted son. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +Craw! Craw! Craw! The crows flapped slowly home, and the Gaffers moved +off too. The sun was down, and "damps" are bad for "rheumatics." +</p> + +<p> +"It's a strange tale," said Gaffer II., "but if all's true ye tell me, +there's not too many like him." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right enough," Gaffer I. admitted. "He's been t' same all +through, and ye should ha' seen the burying he gave t' old chap. He was +rare and good to him by all accounts, and never gainsaid him ought, +except i' not lifting his voice as he should ha' done at t' grave. Jacks +sings a bass solo as well as any man i' t' place, but he stood yonder, +for all t' world like one of them crows, black o' visage, and black wi' +funeral clothes, and choked with crying like a child i'stead of a man." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, t' old chap were all he had, I reckon," said Gaffer II. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>That's</i> right enough; and for going backwards, as ye may say, and +setting a wild graff on an old standard, yon will's done well for DADDY +DARWIN'S DOVECOT." +</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>THE BLIND MAN AND THE TALKING DOG.</h2> + +<p> +There was once an old man whom Fortune (whose own eyes are bandaged) had +deprived of his sight. She had taken his hearing also, so that he was +deaf. Poor he had always been, and as Time had stolen his youth and +strength from him, they had only left a light burden for Death to carry +when he should come the old man's way. +</p> + +<p> +But Love (who is blind also) had given the Blind Man a Dog, who led him +out in the morning to a seat in the sun under the crab-tree, and held +his hat for wayside alms, and brought him safely home at sunset. +</p> + +<p> +The Dog was wise and faithful--as dogs often are--but the wonder of him +was that he could talk. In which will be seen the difference between +dogs and men, most of whom can talk; whilst it is a matter for +admiration if they are wise and faithful. +</p> + +<p> +One day the Mayor's little son came down the road, and by the hand he +held his playmate Aldegunda. +</p> + +<p> +"Give the poor Blind Man a penny," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"You are always wanting me to give away my money," replied the boy +peevishly. "It is well that my father is the richest man in the town, +and that I have a whole silver crown yet in my pocket." +</p> + +<p> +But he put the penny into the hat which the Dog held out, and the Dog +gave it to his master. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven bless you," said the Blind Man. +</p> + +<p> +"Amen," said the Dog. +</p> + +<p> +"Aldegunda! Aldegunda!" cried the boy, dancing with delight. "Here is a +dog who can talk. I would give my silver crown for him. Old man, I say, +old man! Will you sell me your dog for a silver crown?" +</p> + +<p> +"My master is deaf as well as blind," said the Dog. +</p> + +<p> +"What a miserable old creature he must be," said the boy +compassionately. +</p> + +<p> +"Men do not smile when they are miserable, do they?" said the Dog; "and +my master smiles sometimes--when the sun warms right through our coats +to our bones; when he feels the hat shake against his knee as the +pennies drop in; and when I lick his hand." +</p> + +<p> +"But for all that, he is a poor wretched old beggar, in want of +everything," persisted the boy. "Now I am the Mayor's only son, and he +is the richest man in the town. Come and live with me, and I will give +the Blind Man my silver crown. I should be perfectly happy if I had a +talking dog of my own." +</p> + +<p> +"It is worth thinking of," said the Dog. "I should certainly like a +master who was perfectly happy. You are sure that there is nothing else +that you wish for?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I were a man," replied the boy. "To do exactly as I chose, and +have plenty of money to spend, and holidays all the year round." +</p> + +<p> +"That sounds well," said the Dog. "Perhaps I had better wait till you +grow up. There is nothing else that you want, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"I want a horse," said the boy, "a real black charger. My father ought +to know that I am too old for a hobby-horse. It vexes me to look at it." +</p> + +<p> +"I must wait for the charger, I see," said the Dog. "Nothing vexes you +but the hobby-horse, I hope?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aldegunda vexes me more than anything," answered the boy, with an +aggrieved air; "and it's very hard when I am so fond of her. She always +tumbles down when we run races, her legs are so short. It's her birthday +to-day, but she toddles as badly as she did yesterday, though she's a +year older." +</p> + +<p> +"She will have learned to run by the time that you are a man," said the +Dog. "So nice a little lady can give you no other cause of annoyance, I +am sure?" +</p> + +<p> +The boy frowned. +</p> + +<p> +"She is always wanting something. She wants something now, I see. What +do you want, Aldegunda?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish--" said Aldegunda, timidly,--"I should like--the blind man to +have the silver crown, and for us to keep the penny, if you can get it +back out of the hat." +</p> + +<p> +"That's just the way you go on," said the boy, angrily. "You always +think differently from me. Now remember, Aldegunda, I won't marry you +when you grow big, unless you agree with what I do, like the wife in the +story of 'What the Goodman does is sure to be right.'" +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this Aldegunda sobbed till she burst the strings of her hat, +and the boy had to tie them afresh. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't marry you at all if you cry," said he. +</p> + +<p> +But at that she only cried the more, and they went away bickering into +the green lanes. +</p> + +<p> +As to the old man, he had heard nothing; and when the dog licked his +withered hand he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +Many a time did the boy return with his playmate to try and get the +Talking Dog. But the Dog always asked if he had yet got all that he +wanted, and, being an honorable child, the boy was too truthful to say +that he was content when he was not. +</p> + +<p> +"The day that you want nothing more but me I will be your dog," it said. +"Unless, indeed, my present master should have attained perfect +happiness before you." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not afraid of that," said the boy. +</p> + +<p> +In time the Mayor died, and his widow moved to her native town and took +her son with her. +</p> + +<p> +Years passed, and the Blind Man lived on; for when one gets very old and +keeps very quiet in his little corner of the world, Death seems +sometimes to forget to remove him. +</p> + +<p> +Years passed, and the Mayor's son became a man, and was strong and rich, +and had a fine black charger. Aldegunda grew up also. She was very +beautiful, wonderfully beautiful, and Love (who is blind) gave her to +her old playmate. +</p> + +<p> +The wedding was a fine one, and when it was over the bridegroom mounted +his black charger and took his bride behind him, and rode away into the +green lanes. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, what delight!" he said. "Now we will ride through the town where we +lived when we were children; and if the Blind Man is still alive, you +shall give him a silver crown; and if the Talking Dog is alive, I shall +claim him, for to-day I am perfectly happy and want nothing." +</p> + +<p> +Aldegunda thought to herself--"We are so happy, and have so much, that I +do not like to take the Blind Man's dog from him;" but she did not dare +to say so. One--if not two--must bear and forbear to be happy even on +one's wedding day. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-bye they rode under the crab-tree, but the seat was empty. "What +has become of the Blind Man?" the Mayor's son asked of a peasant who was +near. +</p> + +<p> +"He died two days ago," said the peasant. "He is buried to-day, and the +priest and chanters are now returning from the grave." +</p> + +<p> +"And the Talking Dog?" asked the young man. +</p> + +<p> +"He is at the grave now," said the peasant; "but he has neither spoken +nor eaten since his master died." +</p> + +<p> +"We have come in the nick of time," said the young man triumphantly, and +he rode to the churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +By the grave was the dog, as the man had said, and up the winding path +came the priest and his young chanters, who sang with shrill, clear +voices--"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." +</p> + +<p> +"Come and live with me, now your old master is gone," said the young +man, stooping over the dog. But he made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +"I think he is dead, sir," said the grave-digger. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe it," said the young man fretfully. "He was an Enchanted +Dog, and he promised I should have him when I could say what I am ready +to say now. He should have kept his promise." +</p> + +<p> +But Aldegunda had taken the dog's cold head into her arms, and her tears +fell fast over it. +</p> + +<p> +"You forget," she said; "he only promised to come to you when you were +happy, if his old master were not happier first; and, perhaps--" +</p> + +<p> +"I remember that you always disagree with me," said the young man, +impatiently. "You always did do so. Tears on our wedding-day, too! I +suppose the truth is that no one is happy." +</p> + +<p> +Aldegunda made no answer, for it is not from those one loves that he +will willingly learn that with a selfish and imperious temper happiness +never dwells. +</p> + +<p> +And as they rode away again into the green lanes, the shrill voices of +the chanters followed them--"Blessed are the dead. Blessed are the +dead." +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h2> +"SO-SO." +</h2> + +<p> +"Be sure, my child," said the widow to her little daughter, "that you +always do just as you are told." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Or at any rate do what will do just as well," said the small house-dog, +as he lay blinking at the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"You darling!" cried little Joan, and she sat down on the hearth and +hugged him. But he got up and shook himself, and moved three turns +nearer the oven, to be out of the way; for though her arms were soft she +had kept her doll in them, and that was made of wood, which hurts. +</p> + +<p> +"What a dear, kind house-dog you are!" said little Joan, and she meant +what she said, for it does feel nice to have the sharp edges of one's +duty a little softened off for one. +</p> + +<p> +He was no particular kind of a dog, but he was very smooth to stroke, +and had a nice way of blinking with his eyes, which it was soothing to +see. There had been a difficulty about his name. The name of the +house-dog before him was Faithful, and well it became him, as his +tombstone testified. The one before that was called Wolf. He was very +wild, and ended his days on the gallows, for worrying sheep. The little +house-dog never chased anything, to the widow's knowledge. There was no +reason whatever for giving him a bad name, and she thought of several +good ones, such as Faithful, and Trusty, and Keeper, which are fine +old-fashioned titles, but none of these seemed quite perfectly to suit +him. So he was called So-so; and a very nice soft name it is. +</p> + +<p> +The widow was only a poor woman, though she contrived by her industry to +keep a decent home together, and to get now one and now another little +comfort for herself and her child. +</p> + +<p> +One day she was going out on business, and she called her little +daughter and said to her, "I am going out for two hours. You are too +young to protect yourself and the house, and So-so is not as strong as +Faithful was. But when I go, shut the house-door and bolt the big wooden +bar, and be sure that you do not open it for any reason whatever till I +return. If strangers come, So-so may bark, which he can do as well as a +bigger dog. Then they will go away. With this summer's savings I have +bought a quilted petticoat for you and a duffle cloak for myself against +the winter, and if I get the work I am going after to-day, I shall buy +enough wool to knit warm stockings for us both. So be patient till I +return, and then we will have the plumcake that is in the cupboard for +tea." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, my child. Be sure you do just as I have told you," said the +widow. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Mother." +</p> + +<p> +Little Joan laid down her doll, and shut the house-door, and fastened +the big bolt. It was very heavy, and the kitchen looked gloomy when she +had done it. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish Mother had taken us all three with her, and had locked the house +and put the key in her big pocket, as she has done before," said little +Joan, as she got into the rocking-chair, to put her doll to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it would have done just as well," So-so replied as he stretched +himself on the hearth. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-bye Joan grew tired of hushabying the doll, who looked none the +sleepier for it, and she took the three-legged stool and sat down in +front of the clock to watch the hands. After a while she drew a deep +sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"There are sixty seconds in every single minute, So-so," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"So I have heard," said So-so. He was snuffing in the back place, which +was not usually allowed. +</p> + +<p> +"And sixty whole minutes in every hour, So-so." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't say so!" growled So-so. He had not found a bit, and the cake +was on the top shelf. There was not so much as a spilt crumb, though he +snuffed in every corner of the kitchen, till he stood snuffing under the +house-door. +</p> + +<p> +"The air smells fresh," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a beautiful day, I know," said little Joan. "I wish Mother had +allowed us to sit on the doorstep. We could have taken care of the +house--" +</p> + +<p> +"Just as well," said So-so. +</p> + +<p> +Little Joan came to smell the air at the keyhole, and, as So-so had +said, it smelt very fresh. Besides, one could see from the window how +fine the evening was. +</p> + +<p> +"It's not exactly what Mother told us to do," said Joan, "but I do +believe--" +</p> + +<p> +"It would do just as well," said So-so. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-bye little Joan unfastened the bar, and opened the door, and she +and the doll and So-so went out and sat on the doorstep. +</p> + +<p> +Not a stranger was to be seen. The sun shone delightfully. An evening +sun, and not too hot. All day it had been ripening the corn in the field +close by, and this glowed and waved in the breeze. +</p> + +<p> +"It does just as well, and better," said little Joan, "for if anyone +comes we can see him coming up the field-path." +</p> + +<p> +"Just so," said So-so, blinking in the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Joan jumped up. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" cried she, "there's a bird, a big bird. Dear So-so, can you see +him? I can't, because of the sun. What a queer noise he makes. Crake! +crake! Oh, I can see him now! He is not flying, he is running, and he +has gone into the corn. I do wish I were in the corn, I would catch him, +and put him in a cage." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll catch him," said So-so, and he put up his tail, and started off. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no!" cried Joan. "You are not to go. You must stay and take care of +the house, and bark if any one comes." +</p> + +<p> +"You could scream, and that would do just as well," replied So-so, with +his tail still up. +</p> + +<p> +"No, it wouldn't," cried little Joan. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it would," reiterated So-so. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst they were bickering, an old woman came up to the door; she had a +brown face, and black hair, and a very old red cloak. +</p> + +<p> +"Good evening, my little dear," said she. "Are you all at home this fine +evening?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only three of us," said Joan; "I, and my doll, and So-so. Mother' has +gone to the town on business, and we are taking care of the house, but +So-so wants to go after the bird we saw run into the corn." +</p> + +<p> +"Was it a pretty bird, my little dear?" asked the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a very curious one," said Joan, "and I should like to go after +it myself, but we can't leave the house." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear, dear! Is there no neighbor would sit on the doorstep for you and +keep the house till you just slip down to the field after the curious +bird?" said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid not," said little Joan. "Old Martha, our neighbor, is now +bedridden. Of course, if she had been able to mind the house instead of +us, it would have done just as well." +</p> + +<p> +"I have some distance to go this evening," said the old woman, "but I do +not object to a few minutes' rest, and sooner than that you should lose +the bird I will sit on the doorstep to oblige you, while you run down to +the cornfield." +</p> + +<p> +"But can you bark if any one comes?" asked little Joan. "For if you +can't, So-so must stay with you." +</p> + +<p> +"I can call you and the dog if I see any one coming, and that will do +just as well," said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +"So it will," replied little Joan, and off she ran to the cornfield, +where, for that matter, So-so had run before her, and was bounding and +barking and springing among the wheat stalks. +</p> + +<p> +They did not catch the bird, though they stayed longer than they had +intended, and though So-so seemed to know more about hunting than was +supposed. +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say mother has come home," said little Joan, as they went back +up the field-path. "I hope she won't think we ought to have stayed in +the house." +</p> + +<p> +"It was taken care of," said So-so, "and that must do just as well." +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the house, the widow had not come home. +</p> + +<p> +But the old woman had gone, and she had taken the quilted petticoat and +the duffle cloak, and the plum-cake from the top shelf away with her; +and no more was ever heard of any of the lot. +</p> + +<p> +"For the future, my child," said the widow, "I hope you will always do +just as you are told, whatever So-so may say." +</p> + +<p> +"I will, Mother," said little Joan (And she did.) But the house-dog sat +and blinked. He dared not speak, he was in disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +I do not feel quite sure about So-so. Wild dogs often amend their ways +far on this side of the gallows, and the faithful sometimes fall; but +when any one begins by being only So-so, he is very apt to be So-so to +the end. So-sos so seldom change. +</p> + +<p> +But this one was <i>very</i> soft and nice, and he got no cake that +tea-time. On the whole, we will hope that he lived to be a good dog ever +after. +</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>THE TRINITY FLOWER.</h2> + +<h3>A LEGEND.</h3> + +<p class="ind"> + "Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own<br> + The wiser love severely kind:<br> + Since, richer for its chastening grown,<br> + I see, whereas I once was blind."<br> + <i>The Clear Vision, J. G. Whittler</i> +</p> + +<p> +In days of yore there was once a certain hermit, who dwelt in a cell, +which he had fashioned for himself from a natural cave in the side of a +hill. +</p> + +<p> +Now this hermit had a great love for flowers, and was moreover learned +in the virtues of herbs, and in that great mystery of healing which lies +hidden among the green things of God. And so it came to pass that the +country people from all parts came to him for the simples which grew in +the little garden which he had made before his cell. And as his fame +spread, and more people came to him, he added more and more to the plat +which he had reclaimed from the waste land around. +</p> + +<p> +But after many years there came a spring when the colors of the flowers +seemed paler to the hermit than they used to be; and as summer drew on +their shapes became indistinct, and he mistook one plant for another; +and when autumn came, he told them by their various scents, and by their +form, rather than by sight; and when the flowers were gone, and winter +had come, the hermit was quite blind. +</p> + +<p> +Now in the hamlet below there lived a boy who had become known to the +hermit on this manner. On the edge of the hermit's garden there grew two +crab trees, from the fruit of which he made every year a certain +confection which was very grateful to the sick. One year many of these +crab-apples were stolen, and the sick folk of the hamlet had very little +conserve. So the following year, as the fruit was ripening, the hermit +spoke every day to those who came to his cell, saying:-- +</p> + +<p> +"I pray you, good people, to make it known that he who robs these crab +trees, robs not me alone, which is dishonest, but the sick, which is +inhuman." +</p> + +<p> +And yet once more the crab-apples were taken. +</p> + +<p> +The following evening, as the hermit sat on the side of the hill, he +overheard two boys disputing about the theft. +</p> + +<p> +"It must either have been a very big man, or a small boy to do it," said +one. "So I say, and I have my reason." +</p> + +<p> +"And what is thy reason, Master Wiseacre?" asked the other. +</p> + +<p> +"The fruit is too high to be plucked except by a very big man," said the +first boy. "And the branches are not strong enough for any but a child +to climb." +</p> + +<p> +"Canst thou think of no other way to rob an apple-tree but by standing +a-tip-toe, or climbing up to the apples, when they should come down to +thee?" said the second boy. "Truly thy head will never save thy heels; +but here's a riddle for thee: +</p> + +<p class="ind"> + "Riddle me riddle me re,<br> + Four big brothers are we;<br> + We gather the fruit, but climb never a tree. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are they?" +</p> + +<p> +"Four tall robbers, I suppose," said the other. +</p> + +<p> +"Tush!" cried his comrade. "They are the four winds; and when they +whistle, down falls the ripest. But others can shake besides the winds, +as I will show thee if thou hast any doubts in the matter." +</p> + +<p> +And as he spoke he sprang to catch the other boy, who ran from him; and +they chased each other down the hill, and the hermit heard no more. +</p> + +<p> +But as he turned to go home he said, "The thief was not far away when +thou stoodst near. Nevertheless, I will have patience. It needs not that +I should go to seek thee, for what saith the Scripture? <i>Thy sin</i> +will find thee out." And he made conserve of such apples as were left, +and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Now after a certain time a plague broke out in the hamlet; and it was so +sore, and there were so few to nurse the many who were sick, that, +though it was not the wont of the hermit ever to leave his place, yet in +their need he came down and ministered to the people in the village. And +one day, as he passed a certain house, he heard moans from within, and +entering, he saw lying upon a bed a boy who tossed and moaned in fever, +and cried out most miserably that his throat was parched and burning. +And when the hermit looked upon his face, behold it was the boy who had +given the riddle of the four winds upon the side of the hill. +</p> + +<p> +Then the hermit fed him with some of the confection which he had with +him, and it was so grateful to the boy's parched palate, that he thanked +and blessed the hermit aloud, and prayed him to leave a morsel of it +behind, to soothe his torments in the night. +</p> + +<p> +Then said the hermit, "My Son, I would that I had more of this +confection, for the sake of others as well as for thee. But indeed I +have only two trees which bear the fruit whereof this is made; and in +two successive years have the apples been stolen by some thief, thereby +robbing not only me, which is dishonest, but the poor, which is +inhuman." +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy's theft came back to his mind, and he burst into tears, and +cried, "My Father, I took the crab-apples!" +</p> + +<p> +And after awhile he recovered his health; the plague also abated in the +hamlet, and the hermit went back to his cell. But the boy would +thenceforth never leave him, always wishing to show his penitence and +gratitude. And though the hermit sent him away, he ever returned, +saying, +</p> + +<p> +"Of what avail is it to drive me from thee, since I am resolved to serve +thee, even as Samuel served Eli, and Timothy ministered unto St. Paul?" +</p> + +<p> +But the hermit said, "My rule is to live alone, and without companions; +wherefore begone." +</p> + +<p> +And when the boy still came, he drove him from the garden. +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy wandered far and wide, over moor and bog, and gathered rare +plants and herbs, and laid them down near the hermit's cell. And when +the hermit was inside, the boy came into the garden, and gathered the +stones and swept the paths, and tied up such plants as were drooping, +and did all neatly and well, for he was a quick and skilful lad. And +when the hermit said, +</p> + +<p> +"Thou hast done well, and I thank thee; but now begone," he only +answered, +</p> + +<p> +"What avails it, when I am resolved to serve thee?" +</p> + +<p> +So at last there came a day when the hermit said, "It may be that it is +ordained; wherefore abide, my Son." +</p> + +<p> +And the boy answered, "Even so, for I am resolved to serve thee." +</p> + +<p> +Thus he remained. And thenceforward the hermit's garden throve as it had +never thriven before. For, though he had skill, the hermit was old and +feeble; but the boy was young and active, and he worked hard, and it was +to him a labor of love. And being a clever boy, he quickly knew the +names and properties of the plants as well as the hermit himself. And +when he was not working, he would go far afield to seek for new herbs. +And he always returned to the village at night. +</p> + +<p> +Now when the hermit's sight began to fail, the boy put him right if he +mistook one plant for another; and when the hermit became quite blind, +he relied completely upon the boy to gather for him the herbs that he +wanted. And when anything new was planted, the boy led the old man to +the spot, that he might know that it was so many paces in such a +direction from the cell, and might feel the shape and texture of the +leaves, and learn its scent. And through the skill and knowledge of the +boy, the hermit was in no wise hindered from preparing his accustomed +remedies, for he knew the names and virtues of the herbs, and where +every plant grew. And when the sun shone, the boy would guide his +master's steps into the garden, and would lead him up to certain +flowers; but to those which had a perfume of their own the old man could +go without help, being guided by the scent. And as he fingered their +leaves and breathed their fragrance, he would say, "Blessed be GOD for +every herb of the field, but thrice blessed for those that smell." +</p> + +<p> +And at the end of the garden was a set bush of rosemary. "For," said the +hermit, "to this we must all come." Because rosemary is the herb they +scatter over the dead. And he knew where almost everything grew, and +what he did not know the boy told him. +</p> + +<p> +Yet for all this, and though he had embraced poverty and solitude with +joy, in the service of GOD and man, yet so bitter was blindness to him, +that he bewailed the loss of his sight, with a grief that never +lessened. +</p> + +<p> +"For," said he, "if it had pleased our Lord to send me any other +affliction, such as a continual pain or a consuming sickness, I would +have borne it gladly, seeing it would have left me free to see these +herbs, which I use for the benefit of the poor. But now the sick suffer +through my blindness, and to this boy also I am a continual burden." +</p> + +<p> +And when the boy called him at the hours of prayer, saying, "My Father, +it is now time for the Nones office, for the marygold is closing," or +"The Vespers bell will soon sound from the valley, for the bindweed +bells are folded," and the hermit recited the appointed prayers, he +always added, +</p> + +<p> +"I beseech Thee take away my blindness, as Thou didst heal Thy servant +the son of Timaeus." +</p> + +<p> +And as the boy and he sorted herbs, he cried, +</p> + +<p> +"Is there no balm in Gilead?" +</p> + +<p> +And the boy answered, "The balm of Gilead grows six full paces from the +gate, my Father." +</p> + +<p> +But the hermit said, "I spoke in a figure, my son I meant not that herb. +But, alas! Is there no remedy to heal the physician? No cure for the +curer?" +</p> + +<p> +And the boy's heart grew heavier day by day, because of the hermit's +grief. For he loved him. +</p> + +<p> +Now one morning as the boy came up from the village, the hermit met him, +groping painfully with his hands, but with joy in his countenance, and +he said, "Is that thy step, my son? Come in, for I have somewhat to tell +thee." +</p> + +<p> +And he said, "A vision has been vouchsafed to me, even a dream. +Moreover, I believe that there shall be a cure for my blindness." Then +the boy was glad, and begged of the hermit to relate his dream, which he +did as follows:-- +</p> + +<p> +"I dreamed, and behold I stood in the garden--thou also with me--and +many people were gathered at the gate, to whom, with thy help, I gave +herbs of healing in such fashion as I have been able since this +blindness came upon me. And when they were gone, I smote upon my +forehead, and said, 'Where is the herb that shall heal my affliction?' +And a voice beside me said, 'Here, my son,' And I cried to thee, 'Who +spoke?' And thou saidst, 'It is a man in pilgrim's weeds, and lo, he +hath a strange flower in his hand.' Then said the Pilgrim, 'It is a +Trinity Flower. Moreover, I suppose that when thou hast it, thou wilt +see clearly.' Then I thought that thou didst take the flower from the +Pilgrim and put it in my hand. And lo, my eyes were opened, and I saw +clearly. And I knew the Pilgrim's face, though where I have seen him I +cannot yet recall. But I believed him to be Raphael the Archangel--he +who led Tobias, and gave sight to his father. And even as it came to me +to know him, he vanished; and I saw him no more." +</p> + +<p> +"And what was the Trinity Flower like, my Father?" asked the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"It was about the size of Herb Paris, my son," replied the hermit. "But +instead of being fourfold every way, it numbered the mystic Three. Every +part was threefold. The leaves were three, the petals three, the sepals +three. The flower was snow-white, but on each of the three parts it was +stained with crimson stripes, like white garments dyed in blood." +[<a href="#f9">9</a>] +</p> + +<p class="ind"> +<a name="f9">9.</a> <i>Trillium erythrocarpum.</i> North America. +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy started up, saying, "If there be such a plant on the earth +I will find it for thee." +</p> + +<p> +But the hermit laid his hand on him, and said, "Nay, my son, leave me +not, for I have need of thee. And the flower will come yet, and then I +shall see." +</p> + +<p> +And all day long the old man murmured to himself, "Then I shall see." +</p> + +<p> +"And didst thou see me, and the garden, in thy dream, my Father?" asked +the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, that I did, my son. And I meant to say to thee that it much +pleaseth me that thou art grown so well, and of such a strangely fair +countenance. Also the garden is such as I have never before beheld it, +which must needs be due to thy care. But wherefore didst thou not tell +me of those fair palms that have grown where the thorn hedge was wont to +be? I was but just stretching out my hand for some, when I awoke." +</p> + +<p> +"There are no palms there, my Father," said the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, indeed it is thy youth that makes thee so little observant," said +the hermit. "However, I pardon thee, if it were only for that good +thought which moved thee to plant a yew beyond the rosemary bush; seeing +that the yew is the emblem of eternal life, which lies beyond the +grave." +</p> + +<p> +But the boy said, "There is no yew there, my Father." +</p> + +<p> +"Have I not seen it, even in a vision?" cried the hermit. "Thou wilt say +next that all the borders are not set with heart's-ease, which indeed +must be through thy industry; and whence they come I know not, but they +are most rare and beautiful, and my eyes long sore to see them again." +</p> + +<p> +"Alas, my Father!" cried the boy, "the borders are set with rue, and +there are but a few clumps of heart's-ease here and there." +</p> + +<p> +"Could I forget what I saw in an hour?" asked the old man, angrily. "And +did not the holy Raphael himself point to them, saying, 'Blessed are the +eyes that behold this garden, where the borders are set with +heart's-ease, and the hedges crowned with palm!' But thou wouldst know +better than an archangel, forsooth." +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy wept; and when the hermit heard him weeping, he put his arm +round him and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Weep not, my dear son. And I pray thee, pardon me that I spoke harshly +to thee. For indeed I am ill-tempered by reason of my infirmities; and +as for thee, GOD will reward thee for thy goodness to me, as I never +can. Moreover, I believe it is thy modesty, which is as great as thy +goodness, that hath hindered thee from telling me of all that thou hast +done for my garden, even to those fair and sweet everlasting flowers, +the like of which I never saw before, which thou hast set in the east +border, and where even now I hear the bees humming in the sun." +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy looked sadly out into the garden, and answered, "I cannot +lie to thee. There are no everlasting flowers. It is the flowers of the +thyme in which the bees are rioting. And in the hedge bottom there +creepeth the bitter-sweet." +</p> + +<p> +But the hermit heard him not. He had groped his way out into the +sunshine, and wandered up and down the walks, murmuring to himself, +"Then I shall see." +</p> + +<p> +Now when the Summer was past, one autumn morning there came to the +garden gate a man in pilgrim's weeds; and when he saw the boy he +beckoned to him, and giving him a small tuber root, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"Give this to thy master. It is the root of the Trinity Flower." +</p> + +<p> +And he passed on down towards the valley. +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy ran hastily to the hermit; and when he had told him, and +given him the root, he said, +</p> + +<p> +"The face of the pilgrim is known to me also, O my Father! For I +remember when I lay sick of the plague, that ever it seemed to me as if +a shadowy figure passed in and out, and went up and down the streets, +and his face was as the face of this pilgrim. But--I cannot deceive +thee--methought it was the Angel of Death." +</p> + +<p> +Then the hermit mused; and after a little space he answered, +</p> + +<p> +"It was then also that I saw him. I remember now. Nevertheless, let us +plant the root, and abide what GOD shall send." +</p> + +<p> +And thus they did. +</p> + +<p> +And as the Autumn and Winter went by, the hermit became very feeble, but +the boy constantly cheered him, saying, "Patience, my Father. Thou shalt +see yet!" +</p> + +<p> +But the hermit replied, "My son, I repent me that I have not been +patient under affliction. Moreover, I have set thee an ill example, in +that I have murmured at that which GOD--Who knowest best--ordained for +me." +</p> + +<p> +And when the boy ofttimes repeated, "Thou shalt yet see," the hermit +answered, "If GOD will. When GOD will. As GOD will." +</p> + +<p> +And when he said the prayers for the Hours, he no longer added what he +had added beforetime, but evermore repeated, "If THOU wilt. When THOU +wilt. As THOU wilt!" +</p> + +<p> +And so the Winter passed; and when the snow lay on the ground the boy +and the hermit talked of the garden; and the boy no longer contradicted +the old man, though he spoke continually of the heart's-ease, and the +everlasting flowers, and the palm. For he said, "When Spring comes I may +be able to get these plants, and fit the garden to his vision." +</p> + +<p> +And at length the Spring came. And with it rose the Trinity Flower. And +when the leaves unfolded, they were three, as the hermit had said. Then +the boy was wild with joy and with impatience. +</p> + +<p> +And when the sun shone for two days together, he would kneel by the +flower, and say, "I pray thee, Lord, send showers, that it may wax +apace." And when it rained, he said, "I pray Thee, send sunshine, that +it may blossom speedily." For he knew not what to ask. And he danced +about the hermit, and cried, "Soon shalt them see." +</p> + +<p> +But the hermit trembled, and said, "Not as I will, but as THOU wilt!" +</p> + +<p> +And so the bud formed. And at length one evening before he went down to +the hamlet, the boy came to the hermit and said, "The bud is almost +breaking, my Father. To-morrow thou shalt see." +</p> + +<p> +Then the hermit moved his hands till he laid them on the boy's head, and +he said, +</p> + +<p> +"The Lord repay thee sevenfold for all thou hast done for me, dear +child. And now I pray thee, my son, give me thy pardon for all in which +I have sinned against thee by word or deed, for indeed my thoughts of +thee have ever been tender." And when the boy wept, the hermit still +pressed him, till he said that he forgave him. And as they unwillingly +parted, the hermit said, "I pray thee, dear son, to remember that, +though late, I conformed myself to the will of GOD." +</p> + +<p> +Saying which, the hermit went into his cell, and the boy returned to the +village. +</p> + +<p> +But so great was his anxiety, that he could not rest; and he returned to +the garden ere it was light, and sat by the flower till the dawn. +</p> + +<p> +And with the first dim light he saw that the Trinity Flower was in +bloom. And as the hermit had said, it was white, and stained with +crimson as with blood. +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy shed tears of joy, and he plucked the flower and ran into +the hermit's cell, where the hermit lay very still upon his couch. And +the boy said, "I will not disturb him. When he wakes he will find the +flower." And he went out and sat down outside the cell and waited. And +being weary as he waited, he fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Now before sunrise, whilst it was yet early, he was awakened by the +voice of the hermit crying, "My son, my dear son!" and he jumped up, +saying, "My Father!" +</p> + +<p> +But as he spoke the hermit passed him. And as he passed he turned, and +the boy saw that his eyes were open. And the hermit fixed them long and +tenderly on him. +</p> + +<p> +Then the boy cried, "Ah, tell me, my Father, dost thou see?" +</p> + +<p> +And he answered, <i>"I see now!"</i> and so passed on down the walk. +</p> + +<p> +And as he went through the garden, in the still dawn, the boy trembled, +for the hermit's footsteps gave no sound. And he passed beyond the +rosemary bush, and came not again. +</p> + +<p> +And when the day wore on, and the hermit did not return, the boy went +into his cell. +</p> + +<p> +Without, the sunshine dried the dew from paths on which the hermit's +feet had left no prints, and cherished the spring flowers bursting into +bloom. But within, the hermit's dead body lay stretched upon his pallet, +and the Trinity Flower was in his hand. +</p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>THE KYRKEGRIM TURNED PREACHER.</h2> + +<h3>A LEGEND.</h3> + +<p> +It is said that in Norway every church has its own Niss, or Brownie. +</p> + +<p> +They are of the same race as the Good People, who haunt farm houses, and +do the maids' work for a pot of cream. They are the size of a year-old +child, but their faces are the faces of aged men. Their common dress is +of gray home-spun, with red peaked caps; but on Michaelmas Day they wear +round hats. +</p> + +<p> +The Church Niss is called Kyrkegrim. His duty is to keep the church +clean, and to scatter the marsh-marigold flowers on the floor before +service. He also keeps order in the congregation, pinches those who fall +asleep, cuffs irreverent boys, and hustles mothers with crying children +out of church as quickly and decorously as possible. +</p> + +<p> +But his business is not with church-brawlers alone. +</p> + +<p> +When the last snow avalanche has slipped from the high-pitched roof, and +the gentian is bluer than the sky, and Baldur's Eyebrow blossoms in the +hot Spring sun, pious folk are wont to come to church some time before +service, and to bring their spades, and rakes, and watering-pots with +them, to tend the graves of the dead. The Kyrkegrim sits on the Lych +Gate and overlooks them. +</p> + +<p> +At those who do not lay by their tools in good time he throws pebbles, +crying to each, <i>"Skynde dig!"</i> (Make haste!), and so drives them +in. And when the bells begin, should any man fail to bow to the church +as the custom is, the Kyrkegrim snatches his hat from behind, and he +sees it no more. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing displeases the Kyrkegrim more than when people fall asleep +during the sermon. This will be seen in the following story. +</p> + +<p> +Once upon a time there was a certain country church, which was served by +a very mild and excellent priest, and haunted by a most active +Kyrkegrim. +</p> + +<p> +Not a speck of dust was to be seen from the altar to the porch, and the +behavior of the congregation was beyond reproach. +</p> + +<p> +But there was one fat farmer who slept during the sermon, and do what +the Kyrkegrim would, he could not keep him awake. Again and again did he +pinch him, nudge him, or let in a cold draught of wind upon his neck. +The fat farmer shook himself, pulled up his neck-kerchief, and dozed off +again. +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless the fault is in my sermons," said the priest, when the +Kyrkegrim complained to him. For he was humble-minded. +</p> + +<p> +But the Kyrkegrim knew that this was not the case, for there was no +better preacher in all the district. +</p> + +<p> +And yet when he overheard the farmer's sharp-tongued little wife speak +of this and that in the discourse, he began to think it might be so. No +doubt the preacher spoke somewhat fast or slow, a little too loud or too +soft. And he was not "stirring" enough, said the farmer's wife; a +failing which no one had ever laid at her door. +</p> + +<p> +"His soul is in my charge," sighed the good priest, "and I cannot even +make him hear what I have got to say. A heavy reckoning will be demanded +of me!" +</p> + +<p> +"The sermons are in fault, beyond a doubt," the Kyrkegrim said. "The +farmer's wife is quite right. She's a sensible woman, and can use a mop +as well as myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Hoot, hoot!" cried the church owl, pushing his head out of the +ivy-bush. "And shall she be Kyrkegrim when thou art turned preacher, and +the preacher sits on the judgment seat? Not so, little Miss! Dust thou +the pulpit, and leave the parson to preach, and let the Maker of souls +reckon with them." +</p> + +<p> +"If the preacher cannot keep the people awake, it is time that another +took his place," said the Kyrkegrim. +</p> + +<p> +"He is not bound to find ears as well as arguments," retorted the owl, +and he drew back into his ivy-bush. +</p> + +<p> +But the Kyrkegrim settled his red cap firmly on his head, and betook +himself to the priest, whose meekness (as is apt to be the case) +encouraged the opposite qualities in those with whom he had to do. +</p> + +<p> +"The farmer must be roused somehow," said he. "It is a disgrace to us +all, and what, in all the hundreds of years I have been Kyrkegrim, never +befell me before. It will be well if next Sunday you preach a stirring +sermon on some very important subject." +</p> + +<p> +So the preacher preached on Sin--fair of flower, and bitter of +fruit!--and as he preached his own cheeks grew pale for other men's +perils, and the Kyrkegrim trembled as he sat listening in the porch, +though he had no soul to lose. +</p> + +<p> +"Was that stirring enough?" he asked, twitching the sleeve of the +farmer's wife as she flounced out after service. +</p> + +<p> +"Splendid!" said she, "and must have hit some folk pretty hard too." +</p> + +<p> +"It kept your husband awake this time, I should think," said the +Kyrkegrim. +</p> + +<p> +"Heighty teighty!" cried the farmer's wife. "I'd have you to know my +good man is as decent a body as any in the parish, if he does take a nap +on Sundays! He is no sinner if he is no saint, thank Heaven, and the +parson knows better than to preach at him." +</p> + +<p> +"Next Sunday," said the Kyrkegrim to the priest, "preach about something +which concerns every one; respectable people as well as others." +</p> + +<p> +So the preacher preached of Death--whom tears cannot move, nor riches +bribe, nor power defy. The uncertain interruption and the only certain +end of all life's labors! And as he preached, the women sitting in their +seats wept for the dead whose graves they had been tending, and down the +aged cheeks of the Kyrkegrim there stole tears of pity for poor men, +whose love and labors are cut short so soon. +</p> + +<p> +But the farmer slept as before. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not expect to die?" asked the Kyrkegrim. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely," replied the farmer, "we must all die some day, and one does +not need a preacher to tell him that. But it was a funeral sermon, my +wife thinks. There has been bereavement in the miller's family." +</p> + +<p> +"Men are a strange race," thought the Kyrkegrim; but he went to the +priest and said--"The farmer is not afraid of death. You must find some +subject of which men really stand in awe." +</p> + +<p> +So when Sunday came round again, the preacher preached of judgment--that +dread Avenger who dogs the footsteps of trespass, even now! That awful +harvest of whirlwind and corruption which they must reap who sow to the +wind and to the flesh! Lightly regarded, but biding its time, till a +man's forgotten follies find him out at last. +</p> + +<p> +But the farmer slept on. He did not wake when the preacher spoke of +judgment to come, the reckoning that cannot be shunned, the trump of the +Archangel, and the Day of Doom. + +"On Michaelmas Day I shall preach myself," said the Kyrkegrim, "and if I +cannot rouse him, I shall give up my charge here." +</p> + +<p> +This troubled the poor priest, for so good a Kyrkegrim was not likely to +be found again. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless he consented, for he was very meek, and when Michaelmas Day +came the Kyrkegrim pulled a preacher's gown over his homespun coat, and +laid his round hat on the desk by the iron-clamped Bible, and began his +sermon. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall give no text," said he, "but when I have said what seems good +to me, it is for those who hear to see if the Scriptures bear me out." +</p> + +<p> +This was an uncommon beginning, and most of the good folk pricked their +ears, the farmer among them, for novelty is agreeable in church as +elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +"I speak," said the Kyrkegrim, "of that which is the last result of sin, +the worst of deaths, and the beginning of judgment--hardness of heart." +</p> + +<p> +The farmer looked a little uncomfortable, and the Kyrkegrim went bravely +on. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us seek examples in Scripture. We will speak of Pharaoh." +</p> + +<p> +But when the Kyrkegrim spoke of Pharaoh the farmer was at ease again. +And by-and-bye a film stole gently before his eyes, and he nodded in his +seat. +</p> + +<p> +This made the Kyrkegrim very angry, for he did not wish to give up his +place, and yet a Niss may not break his word. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us look at the punishment of Pharaoh," he cried. But the farmer's +eyes were still closed and the Kyrkegrim became agitated, and turned +hastily over the leaves of the iron-clamped Bible before him. +</p> + +<p> +"We will speak of the plagues," said he. "The plague of blood, the +plague of frogs, the plague of lice, the plague of flies--" +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the farmer snored. +</p> + +<p> +For a brief instant, anger and dismay kept the Kyrkegrim silent. Then +shutting the iron clamps he pushed the Book on one side, and scrambling +on to a stool, stretched his little body well over the desk, and said, +"But these flies were as nothing to the fly that is coming in the +turnip-crop!" +</p> + +<p> +The words were hardly out of his mouth when the farmer sat suddenly +upright, and half rising from his place, cried anxiously, "Eh, what sir? +What does he say, wife? A new fly among the turnips?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, soul of clay!" yelled the indignant Kyrkegrim, as he hurled his +round hat at the gaping farmer. "Is it indeed for such as thee that +Eternal Life is kept in store?" +</p> + +<p> +And drawing the preacher's gown over his head, he left it in the pulpit, +and scrambling down the steps hastened out of church. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +As he had been successful in rousing the sleepy farmer the Kyrkegrim did +not abandon his duties; but it is said that thenceforward he kept to +them alone, and left heavier responsibilities in higher hands. +</p> + +<hr> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and +Other Stories, by Juliana Horatio Ewing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACKANAPES, DADDY DARWIN'S *** + +***** This file should be named 7865-h.htm or 7865-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/6/7865/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and Other Stories + +Author: Juliana Horatio Ewing + +Release Date: May 24, 2007 [EBook #7865] +[This file was first posted in etext 05 as 7jckn10.txt on May 28, 2003 +and updated in April, 2005 ] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACKANAPES, DADDY DARWIN'S *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + +JACKANAPES + +DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOT + +AND OTHER STORIES + + +By + +JULIANA HORATIO EWING. + + +with + +Illustrations + + +By + +Randolph + +Caldecott + + + +[Illustration] + + "If I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her + favors, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a + Jackanapes, never off!" + + KING HENRY V, Act 5, Scene 2. + + + + +JACKANAPES + + +CHAPTER I. + + + Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, + Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, + The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, + The morn the marshalling in arms--the day + Battle's magnificently stern array! + The thunder clouds close o'er it, which when rent + The earth is covered thick with other clay, + Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, + Rider and horse:--friend, foe,--in one red burial blent. + + Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine: + Yet one would I select from that proud throng. + ----to thee, to thousands, of whom each + And one as all a ghastly gap did make + In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach + Forgetfuluess were mercy for their sake; + The Archangel's trump, not glory's, must awake + Those whom they thirst for. + --BYRON. + +[Illustration] + +Two Donkeys and the Geese lived on the Green, and all other residents of +any social standing lived in houses round it. The houses had no names. +Everybody's address was, "The Green," but the Postman and the people of +the place knew where each family lived. As to the rest of the world, +what has one to do with the rest of the world, when he is safe at home +on his own Goose Green? Moreover, if a stranger did come on any lawful +business, he might ask his way at the shop. + +Most of the inhabitants were long-lived, early deaths (like that of the +little Miss Jessamine) being exceptional; and most of the old people +were proud of their age, especially the sexton, who would be ninety-nine +come Martinmas, and whose father remembered a man who had carried +arrows, as a boy, for the battle of Flodden Field. The Grey Goose and +the big Miss Jessamine were the only elderly persons who kept their ages +secret. Indeed, Miss Jessamine never mentioned any one's age, or +recalled the exact year in which anything had happened. She said that +she had been taught that it was bad manners to do so "in a mixed +assembly." + +The Grey Goose also avoided dates, but this was partly because her +brain, though intelligent, was not mathematical, and computation was +beyond her. She never got farther than "last Michaelmas," "the +Michaelmas before that," and "the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas +before that." After this her head, which was small, became confused, and +she said, "Ga, ga!" and changed the subject. + +But she remembered the little Miss Jessamine, the Miss Jessamine with +the "conspicuous" hair. Her aunt, the big Miss Jessamine, said it was +her only fault. The hair was clean, was abundant, was glossy, but do +what you would with it, it never looked like other people's. And at +church, after Saturday night's wash, it shone like the best brass fender +after a Spring cleaning. In short, it was conspicuous, which does not +become a young woman--especially in church. + +Those were worrying times altogether, and the Green was used for strange +purposes. A political meeting was held on it with the village Cobbler in +the chair, and a speaker who came by stage coach from the town, where +they had wrecked the bakers' shops, and discussed the price of bread. He +came a second time, by stage, but the people had heard something about +him in the meanwhile, and they did not keep him on the Green. They took +him to the pond and tried to make him swim, which he could not do, and +the whole affair was very disturbing to all quiet and peaceable fowls. +After which another man came, and preached sermons on the Green, and a +great many people went to hear him; for those were "trying times," and +folk ran hither and thither for comfort. And then what did they do but +drill the ploughboys on the Green, to get them ready to fight the +French, and teach them the goose-step! However, that came to an end at +last, for Bony was sent to St. Helena, and the ploughboys were sent back +to the plough. + +Everybody lived in fear of Bony in those days, especially the naughty +children, who were kept in order during the day by threats of, "Bony +shall have you," and who had nightmares about him in the dark. They +thought he was an Ogre in a cocked hat. The Grey Goose thought he was a +fox, and that all the men of England were going out in red coats to hunt +him. It was no use to argue the point, for she had a very small head, +and when one idea got into it there was no room for another. + +Besides, the Grey Goose never saw Bony, nor did the children, which +rather spoilt the terror of him, so that the Black Captain became more +effective as a Bogy with hardened offenders. The Grey Goose remembered +_his_ coming to the place perfectly. What he came for she did not +pretend to know. It was all part and parcel of the war and bad times. He +was called the Black Captain, partly because of himself, and partly +because of his wonderful black mare. Strange stories were afloat of how +far and how fast that mare could go, when her master's hand was on her +mane and he whispered in her ear. Indeed, some people thought we might +reckon ourselves very lucky if we were not out of the frying-pan into +the fire, and had not got a certain well-known Gentleman of the Road to +protect us against the French. But that, of course, made him none the +less useful to the Johnson's Nurse, when the little Miss Johnsons were +naughty. + +"You leave off crying this minnit, Miss Jane, or I'll give you right +away to that horrid wicked officer. Jemima! just look out o' the windy, +if you please, and see if the Black Cap'n's a-coming with his horse to +carry away Miss Jane." + +And there, sure enough, the Black Captain strode by, with his sword +clattering as if it did not know whose head to cut off first. But he did +not call for Miss Jane that time. He went on to the Green, where he came +so suddenly upon the eldest Master Johnson, sitting in a puddle on +purpose, in his new nankeen skeleton suit, that the young gentleman +thought judgment had overtaken him at last, and abandoned himself to the +howlings of despair. His howls were redoubled when he was clutched from +behind and swung over the Black Captain's shoulder, but in five minutes +his tears were stanched, and he was playing with the officer's +accoutrements. All of which the Grey Goose saw with her own eyes, and +heard afterwards that that bad boy had been whining to go back to the +Black Captain ever since, which showed how hardened he was, and that +nobody but Bonaparte himself could be expected to do him any good. + +But those were "trying times." It was bad enough when the pickle of a +large and respectable family cried for the Black Captain; when it came +to the little Miss Jessamine crying for him, one felt that the sooner +the French landed and had done with it the better. + +The big Miss Jessamine's objection to him was that he was a soldier, and +this prejudice was shared by all the Green. "A soldier," as the speaker +from the town had observed, "is a bloodthirsty, unsettled sort of a +rascal; that the peaceable, home-loving, bread-winning citizen can never +conscientiously look on as a brother, till he has beaten his sword into +a ploughshare, and his spear into a pruning-hook." + +On the other hand there was some truth in what the Postman (an old +soldier) said in reply; that the sword has to cut a way for us out of +many a scrape into which our bread-winners get us when they drive their +ploughshares into fallows that don't belong to them. Indeed, whilst our +most peaceful citizens were prosperous chiefly by means of cotton, of +sugar, and of the rise and fall of the money-market (not to speak of +such salable matters as opium, firearms, and "black ivory"), +disturbances were apt to arise in India, Africa and other outlandish +parts, where the fathers of our domestic race were making fortunes for +their families. And, for that matter, even on the Green, we did not wish +the military to leave us in the lurch, so long as there was any fear +that the French were coming.[1] + +[Footnote 1: "'The political men declare war, and generally for +commercial interests; but when the nation is thus embroiled with its +neighbors the soldier ... draws the sword, at the command of his +country.... One word as to thy comparison of military and commercial +persons. What manner of men be they who have supplied the Caffres with +the firearms and ammunition to maintain their savage and deplorable +wars? Assuredly they are not military.... Cease then, if thou would'st +be counted among the just, to vilify soldiers."--W. Napier, Lieut. +General, _November_, 1851.] + + +II + +[Illustration] + +To let the Black Captain have little Miss Jessamine, however, was +another matter. Her Aunt would not hear of it; and then, to crown all, +it appeared that the Captain's father did not think the young lady good +enough for his son. Never was any affair more clearly brought to a +conclusion. But those were "trying times;" and one moon-light night, +when the Grey Goose was sound asleep upon one leg, the Green was rudely +shaken under her by the thud of a horse's feet. "Ga, ga!" said she, +putting down the other leg, and running away. + +By the time she returned to her place not a thing was to be seen or +heard. The horse had passed like a shot. But next day, there was +hurrying and skurrying and cackling at a very early hour, all about the +white house with the black beams, where Miss Jessamine lived. And when +the sun was so low, and the shadows so long on the grass that the Grey +Goose felt ready to run away at the sight of her own neck, little Miss +Jane Johnson, and her "particular friend" Clarinda, sat under the big +oak-tree on the Green, and Jane pinched Clarinda's little finger till +she found that she could keep a secret, and then she told her in +confidence that she had heard from Nurse and Jemima that Miss +Jessamine's niece had been a very naughty girl, and that that horrid +wicked officer had come for her on his black horse, and carried her +right away. + +"Will she never come back?" asked Clarinda. + +"Oh, no!" said Jane decidedly. "Bony never brings people back." + +"Not never no more?" sobbed Clarinda, for she was weak-minded, and could +not bear to think that Bony never, never let naughty people go home +again. + +Next day Jane had heard more. + +"He has taken her to a Green?" + +"A Goose Green?" asked Clarinda. + +"No. A Gretna Green. Don't ask so many questions, child," said Jane; +who, having no more to tell, gave herself airs. + +Jane was wrong on one point. Miss Jessamine's niece did come back, and +she and her husband were forgiven. The Grey Goose remembered it well, it +was Michaelmastide, the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas before the +Michaelmas--but ga, ga! What does the date matter? It was autumn, +harvest-time, and everybody was so busy prophesying and praying about +the crops, that the young couple wandered through the lanes, and got +blackberries for Miss Jessamine's celebrated crab and blackberry jam, +and made guys of themselves with bryony-wreaths, and not a soul troubled +his head about them, except the children, and the Postman. The children +dogged the Black Captain's footsteps (his bubble reputation as an Ogre +having burst), clamoring for a ride on the black mare. And the Postman +would go somewhat out of his postal way to catch the Captain's dark eye, +and show that he had not forgotten how to salute an officer. + +But they were "trying times." One afternoon the black mare was stepping +gently up and down the grass, with her head at her master's shoulder, +and as many children crowded on to her silky back as if she had been an +elephant in a menagerie; and the next afternoon she carried him away, +sword and _sabre-tache_ clattering war-music at her side, and the +old Postman waiting for them, rigid with salutation, at the four cross +roads. + +War and bad times! It was a hard winter, and the big Miss Jessamine and +the little Miss Jessamine (but she was Mrs. Black-Captain now), lived +very economically that they might help their poorer neighbors. They +neither entertained nor went into company, but the young lady always +went up the village as far as the _George and Dragon_, for air and +exercise, when the London Mail[2] came in. + +[Footnote 2: The Mail Coach it was that distributed over the face of the +land, like the opening of apocalyptic vials, the heart-shaking news of +Trafalgar, of Salamanca, of Vittoria, of Waterloo.... The grandest +chapter of our experience, within the whole Mail Coach service, was on +those occasions when we went down from London with the news of Victory. +Five years of life it was worth paying down for the privilege of an +outside place. DE QUINCEY.] + +One day (it was a day in the following June) it came in earlier than +usual, and the young lady was not there to meet it. + +But a crowd soon gathered round the _George and Dragon_, gaping to +see the Mail Coach dressed with flowers and oak-leaves, and the guard +wearing a laurel wreath over and above his royal livery. The ribbons +that decked the horses were stained and flecked with the warmth and foam +of the pace at which they had come, for they had pressed on with the +news of Victory. + +Miss Jessamine was sitting with her niece under the oak-tree on the +Green, when the Postman put a newspaper silently into her hand. Her +niece turned quickly--"Is there news?" + +"Don't agitate yourself, my dear," said her aunt. "I will read it aloud, +and then we can enjoy it together; a far more comfortable method, my +love, than when you go up the village, and come home out of breath, +having snatched half the news as you run." + +"I am all attention, dear aunt," said the little lady, clasping her +hands tightly on her lap. + +Then Miss Jessamine read aloud--she was proud of her reading--and the +old soldier stood at attention behind her, with such a blending of pride +and pity on his face as it was strange to see:-- + + "DOWNING STREET, + + "_June_ 22, 1815, 1 A.M." + +"That's one in the morning," gasped the Postman; "beg your pardon, mum." + +But though he apologized, he could not refrain from echoing here and +there a weighty word. "Glorious victory,"--"Two hundred pieces of +artillery,"--"Immense quantity of ammunition,"--and so forth. + +"The loss of the British Army upon this occasion has unfortunately been +most severe. It had not been possible to make out a return of the killed +and wounded when Major Percy left headquarters. The names of the +officers killed and wounded, as far as they can be collected, are +annexed. + +"I have the honor----" + +"The list, aunt! Read the list!" + +"My love--my darling--let us go in and----" + +"No. Now! now!" + +To one thing the supremely afflicted are entitled in their sorrow--to be +obeyed--and yet it is the last kindness that people commonly will do +them. But Miss Jessamine did. Steadying her voice, as best she might, +she read on, and the old soldier stood bareheaded to hear that first +Roll of the Dead at Waterloo, which began with the Duke of Brunswick, +and ended with Ensign Brown.[3] Five-and-thirty British Captains fell +asleep that day on the bed of Honor, and the Black Captain slept among +them. + +[Footnote 3: "Brunswick's fated chieftain" fell at Quatre Bras, the day +before Waterloo, but this first (very imperfect) list, as it appeared in +the newspapers of the day, did begin with his name, and end with that of +an Ensign Brown.] + + * * * * * + +There are killed and wounded by war, of whom no returns reach Downing +Street. + +Three days later, the Captain's wife had joined him, and Miss Jessamine +was kneeling by the cradle of their orphan son, a purple-red morsel of +humanity, with conspicuously golden hair. + +"Will he live, Doctor?" + +"Live? GOD bless my soul, ma'am! Look at him! The young Jackanapes!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + + And he wandered away and away + With Nature, the dear old Nurse. + + LONGFELLOW. + +[Illustration] + + +The Grey Goose remembered quite well the year that Jackanapes began to +walk, for it was the year that the speckled hen for the first time in +all her motherly life got out of patience when she was sitting. She had +been rather proud of the eggs--they are unusually large--but she never +felt quite comfortable on them; and whether it was because she used to +get cramp, and got off the nest, or because the season was bad, or what, +she never could tell, but every egg was addled but one, and the one that +did hatch gave her more trouble than any chick she had ever reared. + +It was a fine, downy, bright yellow little thing, but it had a monstrous +big nose and feet, and such an ungainly walk as she knew no other +instance of in her well-bred and high-stepping family. And as to +behavior, it was not that it was either quarrelsome or moping, but +simply unlike the rest. When the other chicks hopped and cheeped on the +Green all at their mother's feet, this solitary yellow one went waddling +off on its own responsibility, and do or cluck what the spreckled hen +would, it went to play in the pond. + +It was off one day as usual, and the hen was fussing and fuming after +it, when the Postman, going to deliver a letter at Miss Jessamine's +door, was nearly knocked over by the good lady herself, who, bursting +out of the house with her cap just off and her bonnet just not on, +fell into his arms, crying-- + +"Baby! Baby! Jackanapes! Jackanapes!" + +If the Postman loved anything on earth, he loved the Captain's +yellow-haired child, so propping Miss Jessamine against her own +door-post, he followed the direction of her trembling fingers and made +for the Green. + +Jackanapes had had the start of the Postman by nearly ten minutes. The +world--the round green world with an oak tree on it--was just becoming +very interesting to him. He had tried, vigorously but ineffectually, to +mount a passing pig the last time he was taken out walking; but then he +was encumbered with a nurse. Now he was his own master, and might, by +courage and energy, become the master of that delightful, downy, dumpy, +yellow thing, that was bobbing along over the green grass in front of +him. Forward! Charge! He aimed well, and grabbed it, but only to feel +the delicious downiness and dumpiness slipping through his fingers as he +fell upon his face. "Quawk!" said the yellow thing, and wobbled off +sideways. It was this oblique movement that enabled Jackanapes to come +up with it, for it was bound for the Pond, and therefore obliged to come +back into line. He failed again from top-heaviness, and his prey escaped +sideways as before, and, as before, lost ground in getting back to the +direct road to the Pond. + +[Illustration] + +And at the Pond the Postman found them both, one yellow thing rocking +safely on the ripples that lie beyond duck-weed, and the other washing +his draggled frock with tears, because he too had tried to sit upon the +Pond, and it wouldn't hold him. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + + ... If studious, copie fair what time hath blurred, + Redeem truth from his jawes; if souldier, + Chase brave employments with a naked sword + Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have, + If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. + + * * * * * + + In brief, acquit thee bravely: play the man. + Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. + Defer not the least vertue: life's poore span + Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe. + If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains. + If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. + + GEORGE HERBERT. + +[Illustration] + + +Young Mrs. Johnson, who was a mother of many, hardly knew which to pity +more; Miss Jessamine for having her little ways and her antimacassars +rumpled by a young Jackanapes; or the boy himself, for being brought up +by an old maid. + +Oddly enough, she would probably have pitied neither, had Jackanapes +been a girl. (One is so apt to think that what works smoothest works to +the highest ends, having no patience for the results of friction.) That +Father in GOD, who bade the young men to be pure, and the maidens brave, +greatly disturbed a member of his congregation, who thought that the +great preacher had made a slip of the tongue. + +"That the girls should have purity, and the boys courage, is what you +would say, good Father?" + +"Nature has done that," was the reply; "I meant what I said." + +In good sooth, a young maid is all the better for learning some robuster +virtues than maidenliness and not to move the antimacassars. And the +robuster virtues require some fresh air and freedom. As, on the other +hand, Jackanapes (who had a boy's full share of the little beast and the +young monkey in his natural composition) was none the worse, at his +tender years, for learning some maidenliness--so far as maidenliness +means decency, pity, unselfishness and pretty behavior. + +And it is due to him to say that he was an obedient boy, and a boy whose +word could be depended on, long before his grandfather the General came +to live at the Green. + +He was obedient; that is he did what his great aunt told him. But--oh +dear! oh dear!--the pranks he played, which it had never entered into +her head to forbid! + +It was when he had just been put into skeletons (frocks never suited +him) that he became very friendly with Master Tony Johnson, a younger +brother of the young gentleman who sat in the puddle on purpose. Tony +was not enterprising, and Jackanapes led him by the nose. One summer's +evening they were out late, and Miss Jessamine was becoming anxious, +when Jackanapes presented himself with a ghastly face all besmirched +with tears. He was unusually subdued. + +"I'm afraid," he sobbed; "if you please, I'm very much afraid that Tony +Johnson's dying in the churchyard." + +Miss Jessamine was just beginning to be distracted, when she smelt +Jackanapes. + +"You naughty, naughty boys! Do you mean to tell me that you've been +smoking?" + +"Not pipes," urged Jackanapes; "upon my honor, Aunty, not pipes. Only +segars like Mr. Johnson's! and only made of brown paper with a very, +very little tobacco from the shop inside them." + +Whereupon, Miss Jessamine sent a servant to the churchyard, who found +Tony Johnson lying on a tomb-stone, very sick, and having ceased to +entertain any hopes of his own recovery. + +If it could be possible that any "unpleasantness" could arise between +two such amiable neighbors as Miss Jessamine and Mrs. Johnson--and if +the still more incredible paradox can be that ladies may differ over a +point on which they are agreed--that point was the admitted fact that +Tony Johnson was "delicate," and the difference lay chiefly in this: +Mrs. Johnson said that Tony was delicate--meaning that he was more +finely strung, more sensitive, a properer subject for pampering and +petting than Jackanapes, and that, consequently, Jackanapes was to blame +for leading Tony into scrapes which resulted in his being chilled, +frightened, or (most frequently) sick. But when Miss Jessamine said that +Tony Johnson was delicate, she meant that he was more puling, less +manly, and less healthily brought up than Jackanapes, who, when they got +into mischief together, was certainly not to blame because his friend +could not get wet, sit a kicking donkey, ride in the giddy-go-round, +bear the noise of a cracker, or smoke brown paper with impunity, as he +could. + +Not that there was ever the slightest quarrel between the ladies. It +never even came near it, except the day after Tony had been so very sick +with riding Bucephalus in the giddy-go-round. Mrs. Johnson had explained +to Miss Jessamine that the reason Tony was so easily upset, was the +unusual sensitiveness (as a doctor had explained it to her) of the +nervous centres in her family--"Fiddlestick!" So Mrs. Johnson +understood Miss Jessamine to say, but it appeared that she only said +"Treaclestick!" which is quite another thing, and of which Tony was +undoubtedly fond. It was at the fair that Tony was made ill by riding on +Bucephalus. Once a year the Goose Green became the scene of a carnival. +First of all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and +night. Jackanapes could hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly +sleep for speculating what booths and whirligigs he should find fairly +established; when he and his dog Spitfire went out after breakfast. As a +matter of fact, he seldom had to wait long for news of the Fair. The +Postman knew the window out of which Jackanapes' yellow head would come, +and was ready with his report. + +"Royal Theayter, Master Jackanapes, in the old place, but be careful o' +them seats, sir; they're rickettier than ever. Two sweets and a +ginger-beer under the oak tree, and the Flying Boats is just a-coming +along the road." + +No doubt it was partly because he had already suffered severely in the +Flying Boats, that Tony collapsed so quickly in the giddy-go-round. He +only mounted Bucephalus (who was spotted, and had no tail) because +Jackanapes urged him, and held out the ingenious hope that the +round-and-round feeling would very likely cure the up-and-down +sensation. It did not, however, and Tony tumbled off during the first +revolution. + +[Illustration] + +Jackanapes was not absolutely free from qualms, but having once mounted +the Black Prince he stuck to him as a horseman should. During the first +round he waved his hat, and observed with some concern that the Black +Prince had lost an ear since last Fair; at the second, he looked a little +pale but sat upright, though somewhat unnecessarily rigid; at the +third round he shut his eyes. During the fourth his hat fell off, and he +clasped his horse's neck. By the fifth he had laid his yellow head +against the Black Prince's mane, and so clung anyhow till the +hobby-horses stopped, when the proprietor assisted him to alight, and he +sat down rather suddenly and said he had enjoyed it very much. + +The Grey Goose always ran away at the first approach of the caravans, +and never came back to the Green till there was nothing left of the Fair +but footmarks and oyster-shells. Running away was her pet principle; the +only system, she maintained, by which you can live long and easily, and +lose nothing. If you run away when you see danger, you can come back +when all is safe. Run quickly, return slowly, hold your head high, and +gabble as loud as you can, and you'll preserve the respect of the Goose +Green to a peaceful old age. Why should you struggle and get hurt, if +you can lower your head and swerve, and not lose a feather? Why in the +world should any one spoil the pleasure of life, or risk his skin, if he +can help it? + + "'What's the use' + Said the Goose." + +Before answering which one might have to consider what world--which +life--whether his skin were a goose-skin; but the Grey Goose's head +would never have held all that. + +Grass soon grows over footprints, and the village children took the +oyster-shells to trim their gardens with; but the year after Tony rode +Bucephalus there lingered another relic of Fairtime, in which Jackanapes +was deeply interested. "The Green" proper was originally only part of a +straggling common, which in its turn merged into some wilder waste land +where gipsies sometimes squatted if the authorities would allow them, +especially after the annual Fair. And it was after the Fair that +Jackanapes, out rambling by himself, was knocked over by the Gipsy's son +riding the Gipsy's red-haired pony at break-neck pace across the common. + +Jackanapes got up and shook himself, none the worse, except for being +heels over head in love with the red-haired pony. What a rate he went +at! How he spurned the ground with his nimble feet! How his red coat +shone in the sunshine! And what bright eyes peeped out of his dark +forelock as it was blown by the wind! + +The Gipsy boy had had a fright, and he was willing enough to reward +Jackanapes for not having been hurt, by consenting to let him have a +ride. + +"Do you mean to kill the little fine gentleman, and swing us all on the +gibbet, you rascal?" screamed the Gipsy-mother, who came up just as +Jackanapes and the pony set off. + +"He would get on," replied her son. "It'll not kill him. He'll fall on +his yellow head, and it's as tough as a cocoanut." + +But Jackanapes did not fall. He stuck to the red-haired pony as he had +stuck to the hobbyhorse; but oh, how different the delight of this wild +gallop with flesh and blood! Just as his legs were beginning to feel as +if he did not feel them, the Gipsy boy cried "Lollo!" Round went the +pony so unceremoniously, that, with as little ceremony, Jackanapes clung +to his neck, and he did not properly recover himself before Lollo +stopped with a jerk at the place where they had started. + +"Is his name Lollo?" asked Jackanapes, his hand lingering in the wiry +mane. + +"Yes." + +"What does Lollo mean?" + +"Red." + +"Is Lollo your pony?" + +"No. My father's." And the Gipsy boy led Lollo away. + +At the first opportunity Jackanapes stole away again to the common. This +time he saw the Gipsy-father, smoking a dirty pipe. + +"Lollo is your pony, isn't he?" said Jackanapes. + +"Yes." + +"He's a very nice one." + +"He's a racer." + +"You don't want to sell him, do you?" + +"Fifteen pounds," said the Gipsy-father; and Jackanapes sighed and went +home again. That very afternoon he and Tony rode the two donkeys, and +Tony managed to get thrown, and even Jackanapes' donkey kicked. But it +was jolting, clumsy work after the elastic swiftness and the dainty +mischief of the red-haired pony. + +A few days later Miss Jessamine spoke very seriously to Jackanapes. She +was a good deal agitated as she told him that his grandfather, the +General, was coming to the Green, and that he must be on his very best +behavior during the visit. If it had been feasible to leave off calling +him Jackanapes and to get used to his baptismal name of Theodore before +the day after to-morrow (when the General was due), it would have been +satisfactory. But Miss Jessamine feared it would be impossible in +practice, and she had scruples about it on principle. It would not seem +quite truthful, although she had always most fully intended that he +should be called Theodore when he had outgrown the ridiculous +appropriateness of his nickname. The fact was that he had not outgrown +it, but he must take care to remember who was meant when his grandfather +said Theodore. + +Indeed for that matter he must take care all along. + +"You are apt to be giddy, Jackanapes," said Miss Jessamine. + +"Yes aunt," said Jackanapes, thinking of the hobby-horses. + +"You are a good boy, Jackanapes. Thank GOD, I can tell your grandfather +that. An obedient boy, an honorable boy, and a kind-hearted boy. But you +are--in short, you _are_ a Boy, Jackanapes. And I hope,"--added +Miss Jessamine, desperate with the results of experience--"that the +General knows that Boys will be Boys." + +[Illustration] + +What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against. +He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over his +catechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair of +his smooth--("It's the wind that blows it, Aunty," said +Jackanapes--"I'll send by the coach for some bear's-grease," said Miss +Jessamine, tying a knot in her pocket-handkerchief)--not to burst in at +the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to crumple his +Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to be sure to +say "sir" to the General, to be careful about rubbing his shoes on the +doormat, and to bring his lesson-books to his aunt at once that she +might iron down the dogs' ears. The General arrived, and for the first +day all went well, except that Jackanapes' hair was as wild as usual, +for the hair-dresser had no bear's-grease left. He began to feel more at +ease with his grandfather, and disposed to talk confidentially with him, +as he did with the Postman. All that the General felt it would take too +long to tell, but the result was the same. He was disposed to talk +confidentially with Jackanapes. + +"Mons'ous pretty place this," he said, looking out of the lattice on to +the Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset, and the shadows were +long and peaceful. + +"You should see it in Fair-week, sir," said Jackanapes, shaking his +yellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendale armchairs +in which they sat. + +"A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left +eye. (The other was glass.) + +Jackanapes shook his hair once more. "I enjoyed this last one the best +of all," he said. "I'd so much money." + +"By George, it's not a common complaint in these bad times. How much had +ye?" + +"I'd two shillings. A new shilling Aunty gave me, and elevenpence I had +saved up, and a penny from the Postman--_sir_!" added Jackanapes +with a jerk, having forgotten it. + +"And how did ye spend it--_sir_?" inquired the General. Jackanapes +spread his ten fingers on the arms of his chair, and shut his eyes that +he might count the more conscientiously. + +"Watch-stand for Aunty, threepence. Trumpet for myself, twopence, that's +fivepence. Ginger-nuts for Tony, twopence, and a mug with a Grenadier on +for the Postman, fourpence, that's elevenpence. Shooting-gallery a +penny, that's a shilling. Giddy-go-round, a penny, that's one and a +penny. Treating Tony, one and twopence. Flying Boats (Tony paid for +himself), a penny, one and threepence. Shooting-gallery again, one and +four-pence; Fat Woman a penny, one and fivepence. Giddy-go-round again, +one and sixpence. Shooting-gallery, one and sevenpence. Treating Tony, +and then he wouldn't shoot, so I did, one and eightpence. Living +Skeleton, a penny--no, Tony treated me, the Living Skeleton doesn't +count. Skittles, a penny, one and ninepence Mermaid (but when we got +inside she was dead), a penny, one and tenpence. Theatre, a penny +(Priscilla Partington, or the Green Lane Murder. A beautiful young lady, +sir, with pink cheeks and a real pistol), that's one and elevenpence. +Ginger beer, a penny (I _was_ so thirsty!) two shillings. And then +the Shooting-gallery man gave me a turn for nothing, because, he said, I +was a real gentleman, and spent my money like a man." + +"So you do, sir, so you do!" cried the General. "Why, sir, you spend it +like a prince--And now I suppose you've not got a penny in your pocket?" + +"Yes I have," said Jackanapes. "Two pennies. They are saving up." And +Jackanapes jingled them with his hand. + +"You don't want money except at fair-times, I suppose?" said the +General. + +Jackanapes shook his mop. + +"If I could have as much as I want, I should know what to buy," said he. + +"And how much do you want, if you could get it?" + +"Wait a minute, sir, till I think what twopence from fifteen pounds +leaves. Two from nothing you can't, but borrow twelve. Two from twelve, +ten, and carry one. Please remember ten, sir, when I ask you. One from +nothing you can't, borrow twenty. One from twenty, nineteen, and carry +one. One from fifteen, fourteen. Fourteen pounds nineteen and--what did I +tell you to remember?" + +"Ten," said the General. + +"Fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and ten-pence then, is what I want," +said Jackanapes. + +"Bless my soul, what for?" + +"To buy Lollo with. Lollo means red, sir. The Gipsy's red-haired pony, +sir. Oh, he is beautiful! You should see his coat in the sunshine! You +should see his mane! You should see his tail! Such little feet, sir, and +they go like lightning! Such a dear face, too, and eyes like a mouse! +But he's a racer, and the Gipsy wants fifteen pounds for him." + +"If he's a racer, you couldn't ride him. Could you?" + +"No--o, sir, but I can stick to him. I did the other day." + +"You did, did you? Well, I'm fond of riding myself, and if the beast is +as good as you say, he might suit me." + +"You're too tall for Lollo, I think," said Jackanapes, measuring his +grandfather with his eye. + +"I can double up my legs, I suppose. We'll have a look at him +to-morrow." + +"Don't you weigh a good deal?" asked Jackanapes. + +"Chiefly waistcoats," said the General, slapping the breast of his +military frock-coat. "We'll have the little racer on the Green the first +thing in the morning. Glad you mentioned it, grandson. Glad you +mentioned it." + +The General was as good as his word. Next morning the Gipsy and Lollo, +Miss Jessamine, Jackanapes and his grandfather and his dog Spitfire, +were all gathered at one end of the Green in a group, which so aroused +the innocent curiosity of Mrs. Johnson, as she saw it from one of her +upper windows, that she and the children took their early promenade +rather earlier than usual. The General talked to the Gipsy, and +Jackanapes fondled Lollo's mane, and did not know whether he should be +more glad or miserable if his grandfather bought him. + +"Jackanapes!" + +"Yes, sir!" + +"I've bought Lollo, but I believe you were right. He hardly stands high +enough for me. If you can ride him to the other end of the Green, I'll +give him to you." + +How Jackanapes tumbled on to Lollo's back he never knew. He had just +gathered up the reins when the Gipsy-father took him by the arm. + +"If you want to make Lollo go fast, my little gentleman--" + +"_I_ can make him go!" said Jackanapes, and drawing from his pocket +the trumpet he had bought in the fair, he blew a blast both loud and +shrill. + +Away went Lollo, and away went Jackanapes' hat. His golden hair flew out, +an aureole from which his cheeks shone red and distended with +trumpeting. Away went Spitfire, mad with the rapture of the race, and +the wind in his silky ears. Away went the geese, the cocks, the hens, +and the whole family of Johnson. Lucy clung to her mamma, Jane saved +Emily by the gathers of her gown, and Tony saved himself by a +somersault. + +[Illustration] + +The Grey Goose was just returning when Jackanapes and Lollo rode back, +Spitfire panting behind. + +"Good, my little gentleman, good!" said the Gipsy. "You were born to the +saddle. You've the flat thigh, the strong knee, the wiry back, and the +light caressing hand, all you want is to learn the whisper Come here!" + +"What was that dirty fellow talking about, grandson?" asked the General. + +"I can't tell you, sir. It's a secret." + +They were sitting in the window again, in the two Chippendale +arm-chairs, the General devouring every line of his grandson's face, +with strange spasms crossing his own. + +"You must love your aunt very much, Jackanapes?" + +"I do, sir," said Jackanapes warmly. + +"And whom do you love next best to your aunt?" + +The ties of blood were pressing very strongly on the General himself, +and perhaps he thought of Lollo. But Love is not bought in a day, even +with fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and ten-pence. Jackanapes +answered quite readily, "The Postman." + +"Why the Postman?" + +"He knew my father," said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him, and +about his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He died +at Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too." "So you shall, +my boy. So you shall." + +"Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier for fear +of being killed." + +"Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and stay +there? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt, if you were a +butter-merchant!" + +"So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! I +say, do you think my father knew the Gipsy's secret? The Postman says he +used to whisper to his black mare." + +"Your father was taught to ride as a child, by one of those horsemen of +the East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows in +autumn. Grandson! Love me a little too. I can tell you more about your +father than the Postman can." + +"I do love you," said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened. I'd +no notion you were so nice." + +"Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--God help +me--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you! There shall never be +a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We're imperfect +enough, all of us, we needn't be so bitter; and life is uncertain enough +at its safest, we needn't waste its opportunities. Look at me! Here sit +I, after a dozen battles and some of the worst climates in the world, +and by yonder lych gate lies your mother, who didn't move five miles, I +suppose, from your aunt's apron-strings,--dead in her teens; my +golden-haired daughter, whom I never saw." + +Jackanapes was terribly troubled. + +"Don't cry, grandfather," he pleaded, his own blue eyes round with +tears. "I will love you very much, and I will try to be very good. But I +should like to be a soldier." + +"You shall, my boy, you shall. You've more claims for a commission than +you know of. Cavalry, I suppose; eh, ye young Jackanapes? Well, well; if +you live to be an honor to your country, this old heart shall grow young +again with pride for you; and if you die in the service of your +country--GOD bless me, it can but break for ye!" + +And beating the region which he said was all waistcoats, as if they +stifled him, the old man got up and strode out on to the Green. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + + "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his + life for his friends."--JOHN XV. 13. + +[Illustration] + + +Twenty and odd years later the Grey Goose was still alive, and in full +possession of her faculties, such as they were. She lived slowly and +carefully, and she lived long. So did Miss Jessamine; but the General +was dead. + +He had lived on the Green for many years, during which he and the +Postman saluted each other with a punctiliousness that it almost drilled +one to witness. He would have completely spoiled Jackanapes if Miss +Jessamine's conscience would have let him; otherwise he somewhat +dragooned his neighbors, and was as positive about parish matters as a +ratepayer about the army. A stormy-tempered, tender-hearted soldier, +irritable with the suffering of wounds of which he never spoke, whom all +the village followed to his grave with tears. + +The General's death was a great shock to Miss Jessamine, and her nephew +stayed with her for some little time after the funeral. Then he was +obliged to join his regiment, which was ordered abroad. + +One effect of the conquest which the General had gained over the +affections of the village, was a considerable abatement of the popular +prejudice against "the military." Indeed the village was now somewhat +importantly represented in the army. There was the General himself, and +the Postman, and the Black Captain's tablet in the church, and +Jackanapes, and Tony Johnson, and a Trumpeter. + +Tony Johnson had no more natural taste for fighting than for riding, but +he was as devoted as ever to Jackanapes, and that was how it came about +that Mr. Johnson bought him a commission in the same cavalry regiment +that the General's grandson (whose commission had been given him by the +Iron Duke) was in, and that he was quite content to be the butt of the +mess where Jackanapes was the hero; and that when Jackanapes wrote home +to Miss Jessamine, Tony wrote with the same purpose to his mother; +namely, to demand her congratulations that they were on active service +at last, and were ordered to the front. And he added a postscript to the +effect that she could have no idea how popular Jackanapes was, nor how +splendidly he rode the wonderful red charger whom he had named after his +old friend Lollo. + + * * * * * + +"Sound Retire!" + +A Boy Trumpeter, grave with the weight of responsibilities and +accoutrements beyond his years, and stained, so that his own mother +would not have known him, with the sweat and dust of battle, did as he +was bid; and then pushing his trumpet pettishly aside, adjusted his +weary legs for the hundredth time to the horse which was a world too big +for him, and muttering, "'Tain't a pretty tune," tried to see something +of this, his first engagement, before it came to an end. + +Being literally in the thick of it, he could hardly have seen less or +known less of what happened in that particular skirmish if he had been +at home in England. For many good reasons; including dust and smoke, and +that what attention he dared distract from his commanding officer was +pretty well absorbed by keeping his hard-mouthed troop-horse in hand, +under pain of execration by his neighbors in the melee. By-and-by, when +the newspapers came out, if he could get a look at one before it was +thumbed to bits, he would learn that the enemy had appeared from ambush +in overwhelming numbers, and that orders had been given to fall back, +which was done slowly and in good order, the men fighting as they +retired. + +[Illustration] + +Born and bred on the Goose Green, the youngest of Mr. Johnson's +gardener's numerous off-spring, the boy had given his family "no peace" +till they let him "go for a soldier" with Master Tony and Master +Jackanapes. They consented at last, with more tears than they shed when +an elder son was sent to jail for poaching, and the boy was perfectly +happy in his life, and full of _esprit de corps_. It was this which +had been wounded by having to sound retreat for "the young gentlemen's +regiment," the first time he served with it before the enemy, and he was +also harassed by having completely lost sight of Master Tony. There had +been some hard fighting before the backward movement began, and he had +caught sight of him once, but not since. On the other hand, all the +pulses of his village pride had been stirred by one or two visions of +Master Jackanapes whirling about on his wonderful horse. He had been +easy to distinguish, since an eccentric blow had bared his head without +hurting it, for his close golden mop of hair gleamed in the hot sunshine +as brightly as the steel of the sword flashing round it. + +Of the missiles that fell pretty thickly, the Boy Trumpeter did not take +much notice. First, one can't attend to everything, and his hands were +full. Secondly, one gets used to anything. Thirdly, experience soon +teaches one, in spite of proverbs, how very few bullets find their +billet. Far more unnerving is the mere suspicion of fear or even of +anxiety in the human mass around you. The Boy was beginning to wonder if +there were any dark reason for the increasing pressure, and whether they +would be allowed to move back more quickly, when the smoke in front +lifted for a moment, and he could see the plain, and the enemy's line +some two hundred yards away. + +And across the plain between them, he saw Master Jackanapes galloping +alone at the top of Lollo's speed, their faces to the enemy, his golden +head at Lollo's ear. + +But at this moment noise and smoke seemed to burst out on every side, +the officer shouted to him to sound retire, and between trumpeting and +bumping about on his horse, he saw and heard no more of the incidents of +his first battle. + +Tony Johnson was always unlucky with horses, from the days of the +giddy-go-round onwards. On this day--of all days in the year--his own +horse was on the sick list, and he had to ride an inferior, +ill-conditioned beast, and fell off that, at the very moment when it was +a matter of life or death to be able to ride away. The horse fell on +him, but struggled up again, and Tony managed to keep hold of it. It was +in trying to remount that he discovered, by helplessness and anguish, +that one of his legs was crushed and broken, and that no feat of which +he was master would get him into the saddle. Not able even to stand +alone, awkwardly, agonizingly unable to mount his restive horse, his +life was yet so strong within him! And on one side of him rolled the +dust and smoke-cloud of his advancing foe, and on the other, that which +covered his retreating friends. + +He turned one piteous gaze after them, with a bitter twinge, not of +reproach, but of loneliness; and then, dragging himself up by the side +of his horse, he turned the other way and drew out his pistol, and +waited for the end. Whether he waited seconds or minutes he never knew, +before some one gripped him by the arm. + +"Jackanapes! GOD bless you! It's my left leg. If you could get me on--" + +It was like Tony's luck that his pistol went off at his horse's tail, +and made it plunge; but Jackanapes threw him across the saddle. + +"Hold on anyhow, and stick your spur in. I'll lead him. Keep your head +down, they're firing high." + +And Jackanapes laid his head down--to Lollo's ear. + +It was when they were fairly off, that a sudden upspringing of the enemy +in all directions had made it necessary to change the gradual retirement +of our force into as rapid a retreat as possible. And when Jackanapes +became aware of this, and felt the lagging and swerving of Tony's horse, +he began to wish he had thrown his friend across his own saddle, and +left their lives to Lollo. + +When Tony became aware of it, several things came into his head. 1. That +the dangers of their ride for life were now more than doubled. 2. That +if Jackanapes and Lollo were not burdened with him they would +undoubtedly escape. 3. That Jackanapes' life was infinitely valuable, +and his--Tony's--was not. 4. That this--if he could seize it--was the +supremest of all the moments in which he had tried to assume the virtues +which Jackanapes had by nature; and that if he could be courageous and +unselfish now-- + +He caught at his own reins and spoke very loud-- + +"Jackanapes! It won't do. You and Lollo must go on. Tell the fellows I +gave you back to them, with all my heart. Jackanapes, if you love me, +leave me!" + +There was a daffodil light over the evening sky in front of them, and it +shone strangely on Jackanapes' hair and face. He turned with an odd look +in his eyes that a vainer man than Tony Johnson might have taken for +brotherly pride. Then he shook his mop and laughed at him. + +[Illustration] + +"_Leave you?_ To save my skin? No, Tony, not to save my soul!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + + Mr. VALIANT _summoned. His will. His last words._ + + Then, said he, "I am going to my Father's.... My Sword I + give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my + Courage and Skill to him that can get it." ... And as he + went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy Victory?" + + So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on + the other side. + BUNYAN'S _Pilgrim's, Progress_. + +[Illustration] + + +Coming out of a hospital-tent, at headquarters, the surgeon cannonaded +against, and rebounded from, another officer; a sallow man, not young, +with a face worn more by ungentle experiences than by age; with weary +eyes that kept their own counsel, iron gray hair, and a moustache that +was as if a raven had laid its wing across his lips and sealed them. + +"Well?" + +"Beg pardon, Major. Didn't see you. Oh, compound fracture and bruises, +but it's all right. He'll pull through." + +"Thank GOD." + +It was probably an involuntary expression, for prayer and praise were +not much in the Major's line, as a jerk of the surgeon's head would have +betrayed to an observer. He was a bright little man, with his feelings +showing all over him, but with gallantry and contempt of death enough +for both sides of his profession; who took a cool head, a white +handkerchief and a case of instruments, where other men went hot-blooded +with weapons, and who was the biggest gossip, male or female, of the +regiment. Not even the Major's taciturnity daunted him. + +"Didn't think he'd as much pluck about him as he has. He'll do all right +if he doesn't fret himself into a fever about poor Jackanapes." + +"Whom are you talking about?" asked the Major hoarsely. + +"Young Johnson. He--" + +"What about Jackanapes?" + +"Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought him +in; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung--" + +"Will he recover?" + +"No. Sad business." + +"What a frame--what limbs--what health--and what good looks? Finest +young fellow--" + +"Where is he?" + +"In his own tent," said the surgeon sadly. + +The Major wheeled and left him. + + * * * * * + +"Can I do anything else for you?" + +"Nothing, thank you. Except--Major! I wish I could get you to appreciate +Johnson." + +"This is not an easy moment, Jackanapes." + +"Let me tell you, sir--_he_ never will--that if he could have +driven me from him, he would be lying yonder at this moment, and I +should be safe and sound." + +The Major laid his hand over his mouth, as if to keep back a wish he +would have been ashamed to utter. + +"I've known old Tony from a child. He's a fool on impulse, a good man +and a gentleman in principle. And he acts on principle, which it's not +every--some water, please! Thank you, sir. It's very hot, and yet one's +feet get uncommonly cold. Oh, thank you, thank you. He's no fire-eater, +but he has a trained conscience and a tender heart, and he'll do his +duty when a braver and more selfish man might fail you. But he wants +encouragement; and when I'm gone----" + +"He shall have encouragement. You have my word for it. Can I do nothing +else?" + +"Yes, Major. A favor." + +"Thank you, Jackanapes." + +"Be Lollo's master, and love him as well as you can. He's used to it." + +"Wouldn't you rather Johnson had him?" + +The blue eyes twinkled in spite of mortal pain. + +"Tony _rides_ on principle, Major. His legs are bolsters, and will +be to the end of the chapter. I couldn't insult dear Lollo, but if you +don't care----" + +"Whilst I live----which will be longer than I desire or +deserve----Lollo shall want nothing, but----you. I have too little +tenderness for----my dear boy, you're faint. Can you spare me for a +moment?" + +"No, stay--Major!" + +"What? What?" + +"My head drifts so--if you wouldn't mind." + +"Yes! Yes!" + +"Say a prayer by me. Out loud please, I am getting deaf." + +"My dearest Jackanapes--my dear boy----" + +"One of the Church Prayers--Parade Service, you know----" + +"I see. But the fact is--GOD forgive me, Jackanapes--I'm a very +different sort of fellow to some of you youngsters. Look here, let me +fetch--" + +But Jackanapes' hand was in his, and it wouldn't let go. + +There was a brief and bitter silence. + +"'Pon my soul I can only remember the little one at the end." + +"Please," whispered Jackanapes. + +Pressed by the conviction that what little he could do it was his duty +to do, the Major--kneeling--bared his head, and spoke loudly, clearly, +and very reverently-- + +"The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--" + +Jackanapes moved his left hand to his right one, which still held the +Major's-- + +"--The love of GOD." + +And with that--Jackanapes died. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +[Illustration] + + "Und so ist der blaue Himmel groesser als jedes + Gewolk darin, und dauerhafter dazu." + JEAN PAUL RICHTER. + + +Jackanapes' death was sad news for the Goose Green, a sorrow justly +qualified by honorable pride in his gallantry and devotion. Only the +Cobbler dissented, but that was his way. He said he saw nothing in it +but foolhardiness and vainglory. They might both have been killed, as +easy as not, and then where would ye have been? A man's life was a man's +life, and one life was as good as another. No one would catch him +throwing his away. And, for that matter, Mrs. Johnson could spare a +child a great deal better than Miss Jessamine. + +But the parson preached Jackanapes' funeral sermon on the text, +"Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his +life for My sake shall find it;" and all the village went and wept to +hear him. + +Nor did Miss Jessamine see her loss from the Cobbler's point of view. On +the contrary, Mrs. Johnson said she never to her dying day should forget +how, when she went to condole with her, the old lady came forward, with +gentle-womanly self-control, and kissed her, and thanked GOD that her +dear nephew's effort had been blessed with success, and that this sad +war had made no gap in her friend's large and happy home circle. + +"But she's a noble, unselfish woman," sobbed Mrs. Johnson, "and she +taught Jackanapes to be the same, and that's how it is that my Tony has +been spared to me. And it must be sheer goodness in Miss Jessamine, for +what can she know of a mother's feelings? And I'm sure most people seem +to think that if you've a large family you don't know one from another +any more than they do, and that a lot of children are like a lot of +store-apples, if one's taken it won't be missed." + +Lollo--the first Lollo, the Gipsy's Lollo--very aged, draws Miss +Jessamine's bath-chair slowly up and down the Goose Green in the +sunshine. + +The Ex-postman walks beside him, which Lollo tolerates to the level of +his shoulder. If the Postman advances any nearer to his head, Lollo +quickens his pace, and were the Postman to persist in the injudicious +attempt, there is, as Miss Jessamine says, no knowing what might happen. + +In the opinion of the Goose Green, Miss Jessamine has borne her troubles +"wonderfully." Indeed, to-day, some of the less delicate and less +intimate of those who see everything from the upper windows, say (well +behind her back) that "the old lady seems quite lively with her military +beaux again." + +[Illustration] + +The meaning of this is, that Captain Johnson is leaning over one side of +her chair, whilst by the other bends a brother officer who is staying +with him, and who has manifested an extraordinary interest in Lollo. He +bends lower and lower, and Miss Jessamine calls to the Postman to +request Lollo to be kind enough to stop, whilst she is fumbling for +something which always hangs by her side, and has got entangled with her +spectacles. + +It is a two-penny trumpet, bought years ago in the village fair, and +over it she and Captain Johnson tell, as best they can, between them, +the story of Jackanapes' ride across the Goose Green; and how he won +Lollo--the Gipsy's Lollo--the racer Lollo--dear Lollo--faithful +Lollo--Lollo the never vanquished--Lollo the tender servant of his old +mistress. And Lollo's ears twitch at every mention of his name. + +Their hearer does not speak, but he never moves his eyes from the +trumpet, and when the tale is told, he lifts Miss Jessamine's hand and +presses his heavy black moustache in silence to her trembling fingers. + +The sun, betting gently to his rest, embroiders the sombre foliage of +the oak-tree with threads of gold. The Grey Goose is sensible of an +atmosphere of repose, and puts up one leg for the night. The grass glows +with a more vivid green, and, in answer to a ringing call from Tony, his +sisters, fluttering over the daisies in pale-hued muslins, come out of +their ever-open door, like pretty pigeons form a dovecote. + +And, if the good gossips, eyes do not deceive them, all the Miss +Johnsons, and both the officers, go wandering off into the lanes, where +bryony wreaths still twine about the brambles. + + * * * * * + +A sorrowful story, and ending badly? + +Nay, Jackanapes, for the end is not yet. + +A life wasted that might have been useful? + +Men who have died for men, in all ages, forgive the thought! + +There is a heritage of heroic example and noble obligation, not reckoned +in the Wealth of Nations, but essential to a nation's life; the contempt +of which, in any people, may, not slowly, mean even its commercial fall. +Very sweet are the uses of prosperity, the harvests of peace and +progress, the fostering sunshine of health and happiness, and length of +days in the land. + +But there be things--oh, sons of what has deserved the name of Great +Britain, forget it not!--"the good of" which and "the use of" which are +beyond all calculation of worldly goods and earthly uses; things such as +Love, and Honor, and the Soul of Man, which cannot be bought with a +price, and which do not die with death. "And they who would fain live +happily EVER after, should not leave these things out of the lessons of +their lives." + + + + +DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOT. + + * * * * * + +PREAMBLE. + + +A summer's afternoon. Early in the summer, and late in the afternoon; +with odors and colors deepening, and shadows lengthening, towards +evening. + +Two gaffers gossiping, seated side by side upon a Yorkshire wall. A wall +of sandstone of many colors, glowing redder and yellower as the sun goes +down; well cushioned with moss and lichen, and deep set in rank grass on +this side, where the path runs, and in blue hyacinths on that side, +where the wood is, and where--on the gray and still naked branches of +young oaks--sit divers crows, not less solemn than the gaffers, and also +gossiping. + +One gaffer in work-day clothes, not unpicturesque of form and hue. Gray, +home-knit stockings, and coat and knee-breeches of corduroy, which takes +tints from Time and Weather as harmoniously as wooden palings do; so +that field laborers (like some insects) seem to absorb or mimic the +colors of the vegetation round them and of their native soil. That is, +on work-days. Sunday-best is a different matter, and in this the other +gaffer was clothed. He was dressed like the crows above him, _fit +excepted_: the reason for which was, that he was only a visitor, a +revisitor to the home of his youth, and wore his Sunday (and funeral) +suit to mark the holiday. + +Continuing the path, a stone pack-horse track, leading past a hedge +snow-white with may, and down into a little wood, from the depths of +which one could hear a brook babbling. Then up across the sunny field +beyond, and yet up over another field to where the brow of the hill is +crowned by old farm-buildings standing against the sky. + +Down this stone path a young man going whistling home to tea. Then +staying to bend a swarthy face to the white may to smell it, and then +plucking a huge branch on which the blossom lies like a heavy fall of +snow, and throwing that aside for a better, and tearing off another and +yet another, with the prodigal recklessness of a pauper; and so, +whistling, on into the wood with his arms full. + +Down the sunny field, as he goes up it, a woman coming to meet him--with +_her_ arms full. Filled by a child with a may-white frock, and hair +shining with the warm colors of the sandstone. A young woman, having a +fair forehead visible a long way off, and buxom cheeks, and steadfast +eyes. When they meet he kisses her, and she pulls his dark hair and +smooths her own, and cuffs him in country fashion. Then they change +burdens, and she takes the may into her apron (stooping to pick up +fallen bits), and the child sits on the man's shoulder, and cuffs and +lugs its father as the mother did, and is chidden by her and kissed by +him. And all the babbling of their chiding and crowing and laughter +comes across the babbling of the brook to the ears of the old gaffers +gossiping on the wall. + +Gaffer I. spits out an over-munched stalk of meadow soft-grass, and +speaks: + +"D'ye see yon chap?" + +Gaffer II. takes up his hat and wipes it round with a spotted +handkerchief (for your Sunday hat is a heating thing for work-day wear), +and puts it on, and makes reply: + +"Aye. But he beats me. And--see there!--he's t'first that's beat me yet. +Why, lad! I've met young chaps to-day I could ha' sworn to for mates of +mine forty years back--if I hadn't ha' been i't' churchyard spelling +over their fathers' tumstuns!" + +"Aye. There's a many old standards gone home o' lately." + +"What do they call _him?_" + +"T' young chap?" + +"Aye." + +"They _call_ him--Darwin." + +"Dar--win? I should known a Darwin. They're old standards, is Darwins. +What's he to Daddy Darwin of t' Dovecot yonder?" + +"He _owns_ t' Dovecot. Did ye see t' lass?" + +"Aye. Shoo's his missus, I reckon?" + +"Aye." + +"What did they call her?" + +"Phoebe Shaw they called her. And if she'd been _my_ lass--but +that's nother here nor there, and he's got t' Dovecot." + +"Shaw? _They're_ old standards, is Shaws. Phoebe? They called her +mother Phoebe. Phoebe Johnson. She were a dainty lass! My father were +very fond of Phoebe Johnson. He said she allus put him i' mind of our +orchard on drying days; pink and white apple-blossom and clean clothes. +And yon's her daughter? Where d'ye say t'young chap come from? He don't +look like hereabouts." + +"He don't come from hereabouts. And yet he do come from hereabouts, as +one may say. Look ye here. He come from t' wukhus. That's the short and +the long of it." + +"_The workhouse!_" + +"Aye." + +Stupefaction. The crows chattering wildly overhead. + +"And he owns Darwin's Dovecot?" + +"He owns Darwin's Dovecot." + +"And how i' t' name o' all things did that come about'!" + +"Why, I'll tell thee. It was i' this fashion." + + * * * * * + +Not without reason does the wary writer put gossip in the mouths of +gaffers rather than of gammers. Male gossips love scandal as dearly as +female gossips do, and they bring to it the stronger relish and energies +of their sex. But these were country gaffers, whose speech--like +shadows--grows lengthy in the leisurely hours of eventide. The gentle +reader shall have the tale in plain narration. + +NOTE--It will be plain to the reader that the birds here described are +Rooks (_corvus frugilegus_). I have allowed myself to speak of them +by their generic or family name of Crow, this being a common country +practice. The genus _corvus_, or _Crow_, includes the Raven, +the Carrion Crow, the Hooded Crow, the Jackdaw, and the Rook. + + + +SCENE I. + + +One Saturday night (some eighteen years earlier than the date of this +gaffer-gossiping) the parson's daughter sat in her own room before the +open drawer of a bandy-legged black oak table, _balancing her +bags_. The bags were money-bags, and the matter shall be made clear +at once. + +In this parish, as in others, progress and the multiplication of weapons +with which civilization and the powers of goodness push their conquests +over brutality and the powers of evil, had added to the original duties +of the parish priest, a multifarious and all but impracticable variety +of offices; which, in ordinary and late conditions, would have been +performed by several more or less salaried clerks, bankers, accountants, +secretaries, librarians, club-committees, teachers, lecturers, discount +for ready-money dealers in clothing, boots, blankets, and coal, +domestic-servant agencies, caterers for the public amusement, and +preservers of the public peace. + +The country parson (no less than statesmen and princes, than men of +science and of letters) is responsible for a great deal of his work that +is really done by the help-mate--woman. This explains why five out of +the young lady's moneybags bore the following inscriptions in +marking-ink: "Savings' bank," "Clothing club," "Library," "Magazines and +hymn-books," "Three-halfpenny club"--and only three bore reference to +private funds, as--"House-money"--"Allowance "--"Charity." + +It was the bag bearing this last and greatest name which the parson's +daughter now seized and emptied into her lap. A ten-shilling piece, some +small silver, and twopence halfpenny jingled together, and roused a +silver-haired, tawny-pawed terrier, who left the hearthrug and came to +smell what was the matter. His mistress's right hand--absently +caressing--quieted his feelings; and with the left she held the +ten-shilling piece between finger and thumb, and gazed thoughtfully at +the other bags as they squatted in a helpless row, with twine-tied +mouths hanging on all sides. It was only after anxious consultation with +an account-book that the half-sovereign was exchanged for silver; thanks +to the clothing-club bag, which looked leaner for the accommodation. In +the three-halfpenny bag (which bulged with pence) some silver was +further solved into copper, and the charity bag was handsomely distended +before the whole lot was consigned once more to the table-drawer. + +Any one accustomed to book-keeping must smile at this bag-keeping of +accounts; but the parson's daughter could never "bring her mind" to +keeping the funds apart on paper, and mixing the actual cash. Indeed, +she could never have brought her conscience to it. Unless she had taken +the tenth for "charity" from her dress and pocket-money in coin, and put +it then and there into the charity bag, this self-imposed rule of the +duty of almsgiving would not have been performed to her soul's peace. + +The problem which had been exercising her mind that Saturday night was +how to spend what was left of her benevolent fund in a treat for the +children of the neighboring work-house. The fund was low, and this had +decided the matter. The following Wednesday would be her twenty-first +birthday. If the children came to tea with her, the foundation of the +entertainment would, in the natural course of things, be laid in the +Vicarage kitchen. The charity bag would provide the extras of the feast. +Nuts, toys, and the like. + +When the parson's daughter locked the drawer of the bandy-legged table, +she did so with the vigor of one who has made up her mind, and set about +the rest of her Saturday night's duties without further delay. + +She put out her Sunday clothes, and her Bible and Prayer-book, and +class-book and pencil, on the oak chest at the foot of the bed. She +brushed and combed the silver-haired terrier, who looked abjectly +depressed whilst this was doing, and preposterously proud when it was +done. She washed her own hair, and studied her Sunday-school lesson for +the morrow whilst it was drying. She spread a colored quilt at the foot +of her white one for the terrier to sleep on--a slur which he always +deeply resented. + +Then she went to bed, and slept as one ought to sleep on Saturday night, +who is bound to be at the Sunday School by 9.15 on the following +morning, with a clear mind on the Rudiments of the Faith, the history of +the Prophet Elisha, and the destinations of each of the parish +magazines. + + + +SCENE II. + + +Fatherless--motherless--homeless! + +A little work-house-boy, with a swarthy face and tidily-cropped black +hair, as short and thick as the fur of a mole, was grubbing, not quite +so cleverly as a mole, in the work-house garden. + +He had been set to weed, but the weeding was very irregularly performed, +for his eyes and heart were in the clouds, as he could see them over the +big boundary wall. For there--now dark against the white, now white +against the gray--some Air Tumbler pigeons were turning somersaults on +their homeward way, at such short and regular intervals that they seemed +to be tying knots in their lines of flight. + +It was too much! The small gardener shamelessly abandoned his duties, +and, curving his dirty paws on each side of his mouth, threw his whole +soul into shouting words of encouragement to the distant birds. + +"That's a good un! On with thee! Over ye go! Oo--ooray!" + +It was this last prolonged cheer which drowned the sound of footsteps on +the path behind him, so that if he had been a tumbler pigeon himself he +could not have jumped more nimbly when a man's hand fell upon his +shoulder. Up went his arms to shield his ears from a well-merited +cuffing; but fate was kinder to him than he deserved. It was only an old +man (prematurely aged with drink and consequent poverty), whose faded +eyes seemed to rekindle as he also gazed after the pigeons, and spoke as +one who knows. + +"Yon's Daddy Darwin's Tumblers." + +This old pauper had only lately come into "the House" (the house that +never was a home!), and the boy clung eagerly to his flannel sleeve, and +plied him thick and fast with questions about the world without the +workhouse-walls, and about the happy owner of those yet happier +creatures who were free not only on the earth, but in the skies. + +The poor old pauper was quite as willing to talk as the boy was to +listen. It restored some of that self-respect which we lose under the +consequences of our follies to be able to say that Daddy Darwin and he +had been mates together, and had had pigeon-fancying in common "many a +long year afore" he came into the House. + +And so these two made friendship over such matters as will bring man and +boy together to the end of time. And the old pauper waxed eloquent on +the feats of Homing Birds and Tumblers, and on the points of Almonds and +Barbs, Fantails and Pouters; sprinkling his narrative also with high +sounding and heterogeneous titles, such as Dragons and Archangels, Blue +Owls and Black Priests, Jacobines, English Horsemen and Trumpeters. And +through much boasting of the high stakes he had had on this and that +pigeon-match then, and not a few bitter complaints of the harsh +hospitality of the House he "had come to" now, it never seemed to occur +to him to connect the two, or to warn the lad who hung upon his lips +that one cannot eat his cake with the rash appetites of youth, and yet +hope to have it for the support and nourishment of his old age. + +The longest story the old man told was of a "bit of a trip" he had made +to Liverpool, to see some Antwerp Carriers flown from thence to Ghent, +and he fixed the date of this by remembering that his twin sons were +born in his absence, and that though their birthday was the very day of +the race, his "missus turned stoopid," as women (he warned the boy) are +apt to do, and refused to have them christened by uncommon names +connected with the fancy. All the same, he bet the lads would have been +nicknamed the Antwerp Carriers, and known as such to the day of their +death, if this had not come so soon and so suddenly, of croup; when (as +it oddly chanced) he was off on another "bit of a holiday" to fly some +pigeons of his own in Lincolnshire. + +This tale had not come to an end when a voice of authority called for +"Jack March," who rubbed his mole-like head, and went ruefully off, +muttering that he should "catch it now." + +"Sure enough! sure enough!" chuckled the unamiable old pauper. + +But again fate was kinder to the lad than his friend. His negligent +weeding passed unnoticed, because he was wanted in a hurry to join the +other children in the school-room. The parson's daughter had come, the +children were about to sing to her, and Jack's voice could not be +dispensed with. + +He "cleaned himself" with alacrity, and taking his place in the circle +of boys standing with their hands behind their backs, he lifted up a +voice worthy of a cathedral choir, whilst varying the monotony of sacred +song by secretly snatching at the tail of the terrier as it went +snuffing round the legs of the group. And in this feat he proved as much +superior to the rest of the boys (who also tried it) as he excelled them +in the art of singing. + +Later on he learned that the young lady had come to invite them all to +have tea with her on her birthday. Later still he found the old pauper +once more, and questioned him closely about the village and the +Vicarage, and as to which of the parishioners kept pigeons, and where. + +And when he went to his straw bed that night, and his black head +throbbed with visions and high hopes, these were not entirely of the +honor of drinking tea with a pretty young lady, and how one should +behave himself in such abashing circumstances. He did not even dream +principally of the possibility of getting hold of that silver-haired, +tawny-pawed dog by the tail under freer conditions than those of this +afternoon, though that was a refreshing thought. + +What kept him long awake was thinking of this. From the top of an old +walnut-tree at the top of a field at the back of the Vicarage, you could +see a hill, and on the top of the hill some farm buildings. And it was +here (so the old pauper had told him) that those pretty pigeons lived, +who, though free to play about among the clouds, yet condescended to +make an earthly home--in Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. + + + +SCENE III. + + +Two and two, girls and boys, the young lady's guests marched down to the +Vicarage. The school-mistress was anxious that each should carry his and +her tin mug, so as to give as little trouble as possible; but this was +resolutely declined, much to the children's satisfaction, who had their +walk with free hands, and their tea out of teacups and saucers, like +anybody else. + +It was a fine day, and all went well. The children enjoyed themselves, +and behaved admirably into the bargain. There was only one suspicion of +misconduct, and the matter was so far from clear that the parson's +daughter hushed it up, and, so to speak, dismissed the case. + +The children were playing at some game in which Jack March was supposed +to excel, but when they came to look for him he could nowhere be found. +At last he was discovered, high up among the branches of an old +walnut-tree at the top of the field, and though his hands were unstained +and his pockets empty, the gardener, who had been the first to spy him, +now loudly denounced him as an ungrateful young thief. Jack, with +swollen eyes and cheeks besmirched with angry tears, was vehemently +declaring that he had only climbed the tree to "have a look at Master +Darwin's pigeons," and had not picked so much as a leaf, let alone a +walnut; and the gardener, "shaking the truth out of him" by the collar +of his fustian jacket, was preaching loudly on the sin of adding +falsehood to theft, when the parson's daughter came up, and, in the end, +acquitted poor Jack, and gave him leave to amuse himself as he pleased. + +It did not please Jack to play with his comrades just then. He felt +sulky and aggrieved. He would have liked to play with the terrier who +had stood by him in his troubles, and barked at the gardener; but that +little friend now trotted after his mistress, who had gone to +choir-practice. + +Jack wandered about among the shrubberies. By-and-by he heard sounds of +music, and led by these he came to a gate in a wall, dividing the +Vicarage garden from the churchyard. Jack loved music, and the organ and +the voices drew him on till he reached the church porch; but there he +was startled by a voice that was not only not the voice of song, but was +the utterance of a moan so doleful that it seemed the outpouring of all +his lonely, and outcast, and injured feelings in one comprehensive howl. + +It was the voice of the silver-haired terrier. He was sitting in the +porch, his nose up, his ears down, his eyes shut, his mouth open, +bewailing in bitterness of spirit the second and greater crook of his +lot. + +To what purpose were all the caresses and care and indulgence of his +mistress, the daily walks, the weekly washings and combings, the +constant companionship, when she betrayed her abiding sense of his +inferiority, first, by not letting him sleep on the white quilt, and +secondly, by never allowing him to go to church? + +Jack shared the terrier's mood. What were tea and plum-cake to him, when +his pauper-breeding was so stamped upon him that the gardener was free +to say--"A nice tale too! What's thou to do wi' doves, and thou a +work'us lad?"--and to take for granted that he would thieve and lie if +he got the chance? + +His disabilities were not the dog's, however. The parish church was his +as well as another's, and he crept inside and leaned against one of the +stone pillars, as if it were a big, calm friend. + +Far away, under the transept, a group of boys and men held their music +near to their faces in the waning light. Among them towered the burly +choirmaster, baton in hand. The parson's daughter was at the organ. Well +accustomed to produce his voice to good purpose, the choirmaster's words +were clearly to be heard throughout the building, and it was on the +subject of articulation and emphasis, and the like, that he was +speaking; now and then throwing in an extra aspirate in the energy of +that enthusiasm without which teaching is not worth the name. + +"That'll not do. We must have it altogether different. You two lads are +singing like bumblebees in a pitcher--border there, boys!--it's no +laughing matter--put down those papers and keep your eyes on me--inflate +the chest--" (his own seemed to fill the field of vision) "and try and +give forth those noble words as if you'd an idea what they meant." + +No satire was intended or taken here, but the two boys, who were +practicing their duet in an anthem, laid down the music, and turned +their eyes on their teacher. + +"I'll run through the recitative," he added, "and take your time from +the stick. And mind that OH." + +The parson's daughter struck a chord, and then the burly choirmaster +spoke with the voice of melody: + +"My heart is disquieted within me. My heart--my heart is disquieted +within me. And the fear of death is fallen--is fallen upon me." + +The terrier moaned without, and Jack thought no boy's voice could be +worth listening to after that of the choirmaster. But he was wrong. A +few more notes from the organ, and then, as night-stillness in a wood is +broken by the nightingale, so upon the silence of the church a +boy-alto's voice broke forth in obedience to the choirmaster's uplifted +hand: + +"_Then_, I said--I said----" + +Jack gasped, but even as he strained his eyes to see what such a singer +could look like, with higher, clearer notes the soprano rose above him +--"Then I sa--a--id," and the duet began: + +"Oh that I had wings--O that I had wings like a dove!" + +_Soprano_.--"Then would I flee away." _Alto_.--"Then would I +flee away." _Together_.--"And be at rest--flee away and be at +rest." + +The clear young voices soared and chased each other among the arches, as +if on the very pinions for which they prayed. Then--swept from their +seats by an upward sweep of the choirmaster's arms--the chorus rose, as +birds rise, and carried on the strain. + +It was not a very fine composition, but this final chorus had the +singular charm of fugue. And as the voices mourned like doves, "Oh that +I had wings!" and pursued each other with the plaintive passage, "Then +would I flee away--then would I flee away----," Jack's ears knew no +weariness of the repetition. It was strangely like watching the rising +and falling of Daddy Darwin's pigeons, as they tossed themselves by +turns upon their homeward flight. + +After the fashion of the piece and period, the chorus was repeated, and +the singers rose to supreme effort. The choirmaster's hands flashed +hither and thither, controlling, inspiring, directing. He sang among the +tenors. + +Jack's voice nearly choked him with longing to sing too. Could words of +man go more deeply home to a young heart caged within workhouse walls? + +"Oh that I had wings like a dove! Then would I flee away--" the +choirmaster's white hands were fluttering downwards in the dusk, and the +chorus sank with them--"flee away and be at rest!" + + + +SCENE IV. + + +Jack March had a busy little brain, and his nature was not of the limp +type that sits down with a grief. That most memorable tea-party had +fired his soul with two distinct ambitions. First, to be a choir-boy; +and, secondly, to dwell in Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. He turned the matter +over in his mind, and patched together the following facts: + +The Board of Guardians meant to apprentice him, Jack, to some master, at +the earliest opportunity. Daddy Darwin (so the old pauper told him) was +a strange old man, who had come down in the world, and now lived quite +alone, with not a soul to help him in the house or outside it. He was +"not to say _mazelin_ yet, but getting helpless, and uncommon +mean." + +A nephew came one fine day and fetched away the old pauper, to his great +delight. It was by their hands that Jack despatched a letter, which the +nephew stamped and posted for him, and which was duly delivered on the +following morning to Mr. Darwin of the Dovecot. + +The old man had no correspondents, and he looked long at the letter +before he opened it. It did credit to the teaching of the workhouse +schoolmistress: + + "HONORED SIR, + + "They call me Jack March. I'm a workhouse lad, but, sir, I'm a + good one, and the Board means to 'prentice me next time. Sir, + if you face the Board and take me out you shall never regret it. + Though I says it as shouldn't I'm a handy lad. I'll clean a floor + with any one, and am willing to work early and late, and at your + time of life you're not what you was, and them birds must take a + deal of seeing to. I can see them from the garden when I'm set + to weed, and I never saw nought like them. Oh, sir, I do beg and + pray you let me mind your pigeons. You'll be none the worse of a + lad about the place, and I shall be happy all the days of my life. + Sir, I'm not unthankful, but please GOD, I should like to have + a home, and to be with them house doves. + + "From your humble servent--hoping to be-- + + "JACK MARCH." + +"Mr. Darwin, Sir. I love them Tumblers as if they was my own." + +Daddy Darwin thought hard and thought long over that letter. He changed +his mind fifty times a day. But Friday was the Board day, and when +Friday came he "faced the Board." And the little workhouse lad went home +to Daddy Darwin's Dovecot. + + + +SCENE V. + + +The bargain was oddly made, but it worked well. Whatever Jack's +parentage may have been (and he was named after the stormy month in +which he had been born), the blood that ran in his veins could not have +been beggar's blood. There was no hopeless, shiftless, invincible +idleness about him. He found work for himself when it was not given him +to do, and he attached himself passionately and proudly to all the +belongings of his new home. + +"Yon lad of yours seem handy enough, Daddy;--for a vagrant, as one may +say." Daddy Darwin was smoking over his garden wall, and Mrs. Shaw, from +the neighboring farm, had paused in her walk for a chat. She was a +notable housewife, and there was just a touch of envy in her sense of +the improved appearance of the doorsteps and other visible points of the +Dovecot. Daddy Darwin took his pipe out of his mouth to make way for the +force of his reply: + +"_Vagrant!_ Nay, missus, yon's no vagrant. _He's fettling up all +along._ Jack's the sort if he finds a key he'll look for the lock; if +ye give him a knife-blade he'll fashion a heft. Why, a vagrant's a chap +that, if he'd all your maester owns to-morrow, he'd be on the tramp +again afore t' year were out, and three years wouldn't repair the +mischief he'd leave behind him. A vagrant's a chap that if ye lend him a +thing he loses it; if ye give him a thing he abuses it----" + +"That's true enough, and there's plenty servant-girls the same," put in +Mrs. Shaw. + +"Maybe there be, ma'am--maybe there be; vagrants' children, I reckon. +But yon little chap I got from t' House comes of folk that's had stuff +o' their own, and cared for it--choose who they were." + +"Well, Daddy," said his neighbor, not without malice, "I'll wish you a +good evening. You've got a good bargain out of the parish, it seems." + +But Daddy Darwin only chuckled, and stirred up the ashes in the bowl of +his pipe. + +"The same to you, ma'am--the same to you. Aye! he's a good bargain--a +very good bargain is Jack March." + +It might be supposed from the foregoing dialogue that Daddy Darwin was a +model householder, and the little workhouse boy the neatest creature +breathing. But the gentle reader who may imagine this is much mistaken. + +Daddy Darwin's Dovecot was freehold, and when he inherited it from his +father there was, still attached to it a good bit of the land that had +passed from father to son through more generations than the church +registers were old enough to record. But the few remaining acres were so +heavily mortgaged that they had to be sold. So that a bit of house +property elsewhere, and the old homestead itself, were all that was +left. And Daddy Darwin had never been the sort of man to retrieve his +luck at home, or to seek it abroad. + +That he had inherited a somewhat higher and more refined nature than his +neighbors had rather hindered than helped him to prosper. And he had +been unlucky in love. When what energies he had were in their prime, his +father's death left him with such poor prospects that the old farmer to +whose daughter he was betrothed broke off the match and married her +elsewhere. His Alice was not long another man's wife. She died within a +year from her wedding-day, and her husband married again within a year +from her death. Her old lover was no better able to mend his broken +heart than his broken fortunes. He only banished women from the Dovecot, +and shut himself up from the coarse consolation of his neighbors. + +In this loneliness, eating a kindly heart out in bitterness of spirit, +with all that he ought to have had-- + + To plough and sow + And reap and mow-- + +gone from him, and in the hands of strangers; the pigeons, for which the +Dovecot had always been famous, became the business and the pleasure of +his life. But of late years his stock had dwindled, and he rarely went +to pigeon-matches or competed in shows and races. A more miserable fancy +rivalled his interest in pigeon fancying. His new hobby was hoarding; +and money that, a few years back, he would have freely spent to improve +his breed of Tumblers or back his Homing Birds he now added with +stealthy pleasure to the store behind the secret panel of a fine old oak +bedstead that had belonged to the Darwyn who owned Dovecot when the +sixteenth century was at its latter end. In this bedstead Daddy slept +lightly of late, as old men will, and he had horrid dreams, which old +men need not have. The queer faces carved on the panels (one of which +hid the money hole) used to frighten him when he was a child. They did +not frighten him now by their grotesque ugliness, but when he looked at +them, _and knew which was which_, he dreaded the dying out of +twilight into dark, and dreamed of aged men living alone, who had been +murdered for their savings. These growing fears had had no small share +in deciding him to try Jack March; and to see the lad growing stronger, +nimbler, and more devoted to his master's interests day by day, was a +nightly comfort to the poor old hoarder in the bed-head. + +As to his keen sense of Jack's industry and carefulness, it was part of +the incompleteness of Daddy Darwin's nature, and the ill-luck of his +career, that he had a sensitive perception of order and beauty, and a +shrewd observation of ways of living and qualities of character, and yet +had allowed his early troubles to blight him so completely that he never +put forth an effort to rise above the ruin, of which he was at least as +conscious as his neighbors. + +That Jack was not the neatest creature breathing, one look at him, as he +stood with pigeons on his head and arms and shoulders, would have been +enough to prove. As the first and readiest repudiation of his workhouse +antecedents he had let his hair grow till it hung in the wildest +elf-locks, and though the terms of his service with Daddy Darwin would +not, in any case, have provided him with handsome clothes, such as he +had were certainly not the better for any attention he bestowed upon +them. As regarded the Dovecot, however, Daddy Darwin had not done more +than justice to his bargain. A strong and grateful attachment to his +master, and a passionate love for the pigeons he tended, kept Jack +constantly busy in the service of both; the old pigeon-fancier taught +him the benefits of scrupulous cleanliness in the pigeon-cote, and Jack +"stoned" the kitchen-floor and the doorsteps on his own responsibility. +The time did come when he tidied up himself. + + + +SCENE VI. + + +Daddy Darwin had made the first breach in his solitary life of his own +free will, but it was fated to widen. The parson's daughter soon heard +that he had got a lad from the workhouse, the very boy who sang so well +and had climbed the walnut-tree to look at Daddy Darwin's pigeons. The +most obvious parish questions at once presented themselves to the young +lady's mind. "Had the boy been christened? Did he go to Church and +Sunday School? Did he say his prayers and know his Catechism? Had he a +Sunday suit? Would he do for the choir?" + +Then, supposing (a not uncommon case) that the boy _had_ been +christened, _said_ he said his prayers, _knew_ his Catechism, +and _was_ ready for school, church, and choir, but had not got a +Sunday suit--a fresh series of riddles propounded themselves to her busy +brain. Would her father yield up his everyday coat and take his Sunday +one into weekday wear? Could the charity bag do better than pay the +tailor's widow for adapting this old coat to the new chorister's back, +taking it in at the seams, turning it wrong-side out, and getting new +sleeves out of the old tails? Could she herself spare the boots which +the village cobbler had just re-soled for her--somewhat clumsily--and +would the "allowance" bag bear this strain? Might she hope to coax an +old pair of trowsers out of her cousin, who was spending his Long +Vacation at the Vicarage, and who never reckoned very closely with +_his_ allowance, and kept no charity bag at all? Lastly would "that +old curmudgeon at the Dovecot" let his little farm-boy go to church and +school and choir? + +"I must go and persuade him," said the young lady. + +What she said, and what (at the time) Daddy Darwin said, Jack never +knew. He was at high sport with the terrier round the big sweet-brier +bush, when he saw his old master slitting the seams of his +weather-beaten coat in the haste with which he plucked crimson clove +carnations as if they had been dandelions, and presented them, not +ungracefully, to the parson's daughter. + +Jack knew why she had come, and strained his ears to catch his own name. +But Daddy Darwin was promising pipings of the cloves. + +"They are such dear old-fashioned things," said she, burying her nose in +the bunch. + +"We're old-fashioned altogether, here, Miss," said Daddy Darwin, looking +wistfully at the tumble-down house behind them. + +"You're very pretty here," said she, looking also, and thinking what a +sketch it would make, if she could keep on friendly terms with this old +recluse, and get leave to sit in the garden. Then her conscience smiting +her for selfishness, she turned her big eyes on him and put out her +small hand. + +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Darwin, very much obliged to you +indeed. And I hope that Jack will do credit to your kindness. And thank +you so much for the cloves," she added, hastily changing a subject which +had cost some argument, and which she did not wish to have reopened. + +Daddy Darwin had thoughts of reopening it. He was slowly getting his +ideas together to say that the lad should see how he got along with the +school before trying the choir, when he found the young lady's hand in +his, and had to take care not to hurt it, whilst she rained thanks on +him for the flowers. + +"You're freely welcome, Miss," was what he did say after all. + +In the evening, however, he was very moody, but Jack was dying of +curiosity, and at last could contain himself no longer. + +"What did Miss Jenny want, Daddy?" he asked. + +The old man looked very grim. + +"First to make a fool of me, and i' t' second place to make a fool of +thee," was his reply. And he added with pettish emphasis, "They're all +alike, gentle and simple. Lad, lad! If ye'd have any peace of your life +never let a woman's foot across your threshold. Steek t' door of your +house--if ye own one--and t' door o' your heart--if ye own one--and then +ye'll never rue. Look at this coat!" + +And the old man went grumpily to bed, and dreamed that Miss Jenny had +put her little foot over his threshold, and that he had shown her the +secret panel, and let her take away his savings. + +And Jack went to bed, and dreamed that he went to school, and showed +himself to Phoebe Shaw in his Sunday suit. + +This dainty little damsel had long been making havoc in Jack's heart. +The attraction must have been one of contrast, for whereas Jack was +black and grubby, and had only week-day clothes--which were ragged at +that--Phoebe was fair, and exquisitely clean, and quite terribly tidy. +Her mother was the neatest woman in the parish. It was she who was wont +to say to her trembling handmaid, "I hope I can black a grate without +blacking myself." But little Phoebe promised so far to out-do her +mother, that it seemed doubtful if she could "black herself" if she +tried. Only the bloom of childhood could have resisted the polishing +effects of yellow soap, as Phoebe's brow and cheeks did resist it. Her +shining hair was--compressed into a plait that would have done credit to +a rope-maker. Her pinafores were speckless, and as to her white Whitsun +frock--Jack could think of nothing the least like Phoebe in that, except +a snowy fantail strutting about the Dovecot roof; and, to say the truth, +the likeness was most remarkable. + +It has been shown that Jack March had a mind to be master of his fate, +and he did succeed in making friends with little Phoebe Shaw. This was +before Miss Jenny's visit, but the incident shall be recorded here. + +Early on Sunday mornings it was Jack's custom to hide his work-day garb +in an angle of the ivy-covered wall of the Dovecot garden, only letting +his head appear over the top, from whence he watched to see Phoebe pass +on her way to Sunday School, and to bewilder himself with the sight of +her starched frock, and her airs with her Bible and Prayer-book, and +class card, and clean pocket-handkerchief. + +Now, amongst the rest of her Sunday paraphernalia, Phoebe always carried +a posy, made up with herbs and some strong smelling flowers. +Countrywomen take mint and southernwood to a long hot service, as fine +ladies take smelling-bottles (for it is a pleasant delusion with some +writers that the weaker sex is a strong sex in the working classes). And +though Phoebe did not suffer from "fainty feels" like her mother, she +and her little playmates took posies to Sunday School, and refreshed +their nerves in the stream of question and answer, and hair oil and +corduroy, with all the airs of their elders. + +One day she lost her posy on her way to school, and her loss was Jack's +opportunity. He had been waiting half-an-hour among the ivy, when he saw +her just below him, fuzzling round and round like a kitten chasing +its tail. He sprang to the top of the wall. + +"Have ye lost something?" he gasped. + +"My posy," said poor Phoebe, lifting her sweet eyes, which were full of +tears. + +A second spring brought Jack into the dust at her feet, where he +searched most faithfully, and was wandering along the path by which she +had come, when she called him back. + +"Never mind," she said. "They'll most likely be dusty by now." + +Jack was not used to think the worse of anything for a coating of dust; +but he paused, trying to solve the perpetual problem of his situation, +and find out what the little maid really wanted. + +"'Twas only Old Man and marygolds," said she. "They're common enough." + +A light illumined Jack's understanding. + +"We've Old Man i' plenty. Wait, and I'll get thee a fresh posy." And he +began to reclimb the wall. + +But Phoebe drew nearer. She stroked down her frock, and spoke mincingly +but confidentially. "My mother says Daddy Darwin has red bergamot i' his +garden. We've none i' ours. My mother always says there's nothing like +red bergamot to take to church. She says it's a deal more refreshing +than Old Man, and not so common. My mother says she's always meaning to +ask Daddy Darwin to let us have a root to set; but she doesn't often see +him, and when she does she doesn't think on. But she always says there's +nothing like red bergamot, and my Aunt Nancy, she says the same." + +"_Red_ is it?" cried Jack. "You wait there, love." And before +Phoebe could say him nay, he was over the wall and back again with his +arms full. + +"Is it any o' this lot?" he inquired, dropping a small haycock of +flowers at her feet. + +"Don't ye know one from t'other?" asked Phoebe, with round eyes of +reproach. And spreading her clean kerchief on the grass she laid her +Bible and Prayer-book and class card on it, and set vigorously and +nattily to work, picking one flower and another from the fragrant +confusion, nipping the stalks to even lengths, rejecting withered +leaves, and instructing Jack as she proceeded. + +"I suppose ye know a rose? That's a double velvet.[4] They dry sweeter +than lavender for linen. These dark red things is pheasants' eyes; but, +dear, dear, what a lad! Ye'd dragged it up by the roots! And eh! what +will Master Darwin say when he misses these pink hollyhocks And only in +bud, too! _There's_ red Bergamot: smell it!"[5] + +[Footnote 4: Double velvet, an old summer rose, not common now It is +described by Parkinson.] + +[Footnote 5: Red Bergamot, or Twinflower; _Monarda Didyma_.] + +It had barely touched Jack's willing nose when it was hastily withdrawn. +Phoebe had caught sight of Polly and Susan Smith coming to school, and +crying that she should be late and must run, the little maid picked up +her paraphernalia (not forgetting the red bergamot), and fled down the +lane. And Jack, with equal haste, snatched up the tell-tale heap of +flowers and threw them into a disused pig-sty, where it was unlikely +that Daddy Darwin would go to look for his poor pink hollyhocks. + + + +SCENE VII. + + +April was a busy month in the Dovecot. Young birds were chipping the +egg, parent birds were feeding their young or relieving each other on +the nest, and Jack and his master were constantly occupied and excited. + +One night Daddy Darwin went to bed; but, though he was tired, he did not +sleep long. He had sold a couple of handsome but quarrelsome pigeons, to +advantage, and had added their price to the hoard in the bed-head. This +had renewed his old fears, for the store was becoming very valuable; and +he wondered if it had really escaped Jack's quick observation, or +whether the boy knew about it, and, perhaps, talked about it. As he lay +and worried himself he fancied he heard sounds without--the sound of +footsteps and of voices. Then his heart beat till he could hear nothing +else; then he could undoubtedly hear nothing at all; then he certainly +heard something which probably was rats. And so he lay in a cold sweat, +and pulled the rug over his face, and made up his mind to give the money +to the parson, for the poor, if he was spared till daylight. + +He _was_ spared till daylight, and had recovered himself, and +settled to leave the money where it was, when Jack rushed in from the +pigeon-house with a face of dire dismay. He made one or two futile +efforts to speak, and then unconsciously used the words Shakespeare has +put into the mouth of Macduff, "All my pretty 'uns!" and so burst into +tears. + +And when the old man made his way to the pigeon-house, followed by poor +Jack, he found that the eggs were cold and the callow young shivering in +deserted nests, and that every bird was gone. And then he remembered the +robbers, and was maddened by the thought that whilst he lay expecting +thieves to break in and steal his money he had let them get safely off +with his whole stock of pigeons. + +Daddy Darwin had never taken up arms against his troubles, and this one +crushed him. + +The fame and beauty of his house-doves were all that was left of +prosperity about the place, and now there was nothing left-- +_nothing_! Below this dreary thought lay a far more bitter one, +which he dared not confide to Jack. He had heard the robbers; he +might have frightened them away; he might at least have given the lad a +chance to save his pets, and not a care had crossed his mind except for +the safety of his own old bones, and of those miserable savings in the +bed-head, which he was enduring so much to scrape together (oh satire!) +for a distant connection whom he had never seen. He crept back to the +kitchen, and dropped in a heap upon the settle, and muttered to himself. +Then his thoughts wandered. Supposing the pigeons were gone for good, +would he ever make up his mind to take that money out of the money-hole, +and buy a fresh stock? He knew he never would, and shrank into a meaner +heap upon the settle as he said so to himself. He did not like to look +his faithful lad in the face. + +Jack looked him in the face, and, finding no help there, acted pretty +promptly behind his back. He roused the parish constable, and fetched +that functionary to the Dovecot before he had had bite or sup to break +his fast. He spread a meal for him and Daddy, and borrowed the Shaws' +light cart whilst they were eating it. The Shaws were good farmer-folk, +they sympathized most fully; and Jack was glad of a few words of pity +from Phoebe. She said she had watched the pretty pets "many a score of +times," which comforted more than one of Jack's heartstrings. Phoebe's +mother paid respect to his sense and promptitude. He had acted exactly +as she would have done. + +"Daddy was right enough about yon lad," she admitted. "He's not one to +let the grass grow under his feet." + +And she gave him a good breakfast whilst the horse was being "put to." +It pleased her that Jack jumped up and left half a delicious cold +tea-cake behind him when the cart-wheels grated outside. Mrs. Shaw sent +Phoebe to put the cake in his pocket, and "the Measter" helped Jack in +and took the reins. He said he would "see Daddy Darwin through it," and +added the weight of his opinion to that of the constable, that the +pigeons had been taken to "a beastly low place" (as he put it) that had +lately been set up for pigeon-shooting in the outskirts of the +neighboring town. + +They paused no longer at the Dovecot than was needed to hustle Daddy +Darwin on to the seat beside Master Shaw, and for Jack to fill his +pockets with peas, and take his place beside the constable. He had +certain ideas of his own on the matter, which were not confused by the +jogtrot of the light cart, which did give a final jumble to poor Daddy +Darwin's faculties. + +No wonder they were jumbled! The terrors of the night past, the shock of +the morning, the completeness of the loss, the piteous sight in the +pigeon-house, remorseful shame, and then--after all these years, during +which he had not gone half a mile from his own hearthstone--to be set up +for all the world to see, on the front seat of a market-cart, back to +back with the parish constable, and jogged off as if miles were nothing, +and crowded streets were nothing, and the Beaulieu Gardens were nothing; +Master Shaw talking away as easily as if they were sitting in two +armchairs, and making no more of "stepping into" a lawyer's office, and +"going on" to the Town Hall, than if he were talking of stepping up to +his own bedchamber or going out into the garden! + +That day passed like a dream, and Daddy Darwin remembered what happened +in it as one remembers visions of the night. + +He had a vision (a very unpleasing vision) of the proprietor of the +Beaulieu Gardens, a big greasy man, with sinister eyes very close +together, and a hook nose, and a heavy watch chain, and a bullying +voice. He browbeat the constable very soon, and even bullied Master Shaw +into silence. No help was to be had from him in his loud indignation at +being supposed to traffic with thieves. + +When he turned the tables by talking of slander, loss of time, and +compensation, Daddy Darwin smelt money, and tremblingly whispered to +Master Shaw to apologize and get out of it. "They're gone for good," he +almost sobbed: "Gone for good, like all t' rest! And I'll not be long +after 'em." + +But even as he spoke he heard a sound which made him lift up his head. +It was Jack's call at feeding-time to the pigeons at the Dovecot. And +quick following on this most musical and most familiar sound there came +another. The old man put both his lean hands behind his ears to be sure +that he heard it aright--the sound of wings--the wings of a dove! + +The other men heard it and ran in. Whilst they were wrangling, Jack had +slipped past them, and had made his way into a weird enclosure in front +of the pigeon-house. And there they found him, with all the captive +pigeons coming to his call; flying, fluttering, strutting, nestling from +head to foot of him, he scattering peas like hail. + +He was the first to speak, and not a choke in his voice. His iron +temperament was at white heat, and, as he afterwards said, he "cared no +more for yon dirty chap wi' the big nose, nor if he were a _ratten_[6] +in a hay-loft!" + +[Footnote 6: _Anglice_ Rat.] + +"These is ours," he said, shortly. "I'll count 'em over, and see if +they're right. There was only one young 'un that could fly. A white +'un." ("It's here," interpolated Master Shaw.) "I'll pack 'em i' yon," +and Jack turned his thumb to a heap of hampers in a corner. "T' carrier +can leave t' baskets at t' toll-bar next Saturday, and ye may send your +lad for 'em, if ye keep one." + +The proprietor of the Beaulieu Gardens was not a man easily abashed, but +most of the pigeons were packed before he had fairly resumed his +previous powers of speech. Then, as Master Shaw said, he talked "on the +other side of his mouth." Most willing was he to help to bring to +justice the scoundrels who had deceived him and robbed Mr. Darwin, but +he feared they would be difficult to trace. His own feeling was that of +wishing for pleasantness among neighbors. The pigeons had been found at +the Gardens. That was enough. He would be glad to settle the business +out of court. + +Daddy Darwin heard the chink of the dirty man's money, and would have +compounded the matter then and there. But not so the parish constable, +who saw himself famous; and not so Jack, who turned eyes of smouldering +fire on Master Shaw. + +"Maester Shaw! you'll not let them chaps get off? Daddy's mazelin' wi' +trouble, sir, but I reckon you'll see to it." + +"If it costs t' worth of the pigeons ten times over, I'll see to it, my +lad," was Master Shaw's reply. And the parish constable rose even to a +vein of satire as he avenged himself of the man who had slighted his +office. "Settle it out of court? Aye! I dare say. And send t' same chaps +to fetch 'em away again t' night after. Nay--bear a hand with this +hamper, Maester Shaw, if you please--if it's all t' same to you, Mr. +Proprietor, I think we shall have to trouble you to step up to t' Town +Hall by-and-by, and see if we can't get shut of them mistaking friends +o' yours for three months any way." + +If that day was a trying one to Daddy Darwin the night that followed it +was far worse. The thieves were known to the police, and the case was +down to come on at the Town Hall the following morning; but meanwhile +the constable thought fit to keep the pigeons under his own charge in +the village lock-up. Jack refused to be parted from his birds, and +remained with them, leaving Daddy Darwin alone in the Dovecot. He dared +not go to bed, and it was not a pleasant night that he spent, dozing +with weariness, and starting up with fright, in an arm-chair facing the +money-hole. + +Some things that he had been nervous about he got quite used to, +however. He bore himself with sufficient dignity in the publicity of the +Town Hall, where a great sensation was created by the pigeons being let +loose without, and coming to Jack's call. Some of them fed from the +boy's lips, and he was the hero of the hour, to Daddy Darwin's delight. + +Then the lawyer and the lawyer's office proved genial and comfortable to +him. He liked civil ways and smooth speech, and understood them far +better than Master Shaw's brevity and uncouthness. The lawyer chatted +kindly and intelligently; he gave Daddy Darwin wine and biscuit, and +talked of the long standing of the Darwin family and its vicissitudes; +he even took down some fat yellow books, and showed the old man how many +curious laws had been made from time to time for the special protection +of pigeons in Dovecots, very ancient statutes making the killing of a +house-dove felony. Then 1 James I. c. 29 awarded three months' +imprisonment "without bail or main price" to any person who should +"shoot at, kill, or destroy with any gun, crossbow, stone-bow, or +longbow, any house-dove or pigeon;" but allowed an alternative fine of +twenty shillings to be paid to the churchwardens of the parish for the +benefit of the poor. Daddy Darwin hoped there was no such alternative in +this case, and it proved that by 2 Geo. III. c. 29, the twenty-shilling +fine was transferred to the owner of birds; at which point another +client called, and the polite lawyer left Daddy to study the laws by +himself. + +It was when Jack as helping Master Shaw to put the horse into the cart, +after the trial was over, that the farmer said to him, "I don't want to +put you about, my lad, but I'm afraid you won't keep your master long. +T'old gentleman's breaking up, mark my words! Constable and me was going +into the _George_ for a glass, and Master Darwin left us and went +back to the office. I says, 'What are ye going back to t' lawyer for?' +and he says, 'I don't mind telling you, Master Shaw, but it's to make my +will.' And off he goes. Now, there's only two more things between that +and death, Jack March! And one's the parson, and t' other's the doctor." + + + +SCENE VIII. + + +Little Phoebe Shaw coming out of the day school, and picking her way +home to tea, was startled by folk running past her, and by a sound of +cheering from the far end of the village, which gradually increased in +volume, and was caught up by the bystanders as they ran. When Phoebe +heard that it was "Constable, and Master Shaw, and Daddy Darwin and his +lad, coming home, and the pigeons along wi' 'em," she felt inclined to +run too; but a fit of shyness came over her, and she demurely decided to +wait by the school-gate till they came her way. They did not come. They +stopped. What were they doing? Another bystander explained, "They're +shaking hands wi' Daddy, and I reckon they're making him put up t' birds +here, to see 'em go home to t' Dovecot." + +Phoebe ran as if for her life. She loved beast and bird as well as Jack +himself, and the fame of Daddy Darwin's doves was great. To see them put +up by him to fly home after such an adventure was a sight not lightly to +be forgone. + +The crowd had moved to a hillock in a neighboring field before she +touched its outskirts. By that time it pretty well numbered the +population of the village, from the oldest inhabitant to the youngest +that could run. Phoebe had her mother's courage and resource. Chirping +out feebly but clearly, "I'm Maester Shaw's little lass, will ye let me +through?" she was passed from hand to hand, till her little fingers +found themselves in Jack's tight clasp, and he fairly lifted her to her +father's side. + +She was just in time. Some of the birds had hung about Jack, nervous, or +expecting peas; but the hesitation was past. Free in the sweet +sunshine--beating down the evening air with silver wings and their +feathers like gold--ignorant of cold eggs and callow young dead in +deserted nests--sped on their way by such a roar as rarely shook the +village in its body corporate--they flew straight home--to Daddy +Darwin's Dovecot. + + + +SCENE IX. + + +Daddy Darwin lived a good many years after making his will, and the +Dovecot prospered in his hands. + +It would be more just to say that it prospered in the hands of Jack +March. + +By hook and by crook he increased the live stock about the place. Folk +were kind to one who had set so excellent an example to other farm lads, +though he lacked the primal virtue of belonging to the neighborhood. He +bartered pigeons for fowls, and some one gave him a sitting of eggs to +"see what he would make of 'em." Master Shaw gave him a little pig, with +kind words and good counsel; and Jack cleaned out the disused pigstys, +which were never disused again. He scrubbed his pigs with soap and water +as if they had been Christians, and the admirable animals regardless of +the pork they were coming to, did him infinite credit, and brought him a +profit into the bargain, which he spent on ducks' eggs, and other +additions to his farmyard family. + +The Shaws were very kind to him; and if Mrs. Shaw's secrets must be +told, it was because Phoebe was so unchangeably and increasingly kind to +him, that she sent the pretty maid (who had a knack of knowing her own +mind about things) to service. + +Jack March was a handsome, stalwart youth now, of irreproachable +conduct, and with qualities which Mrs. Shaw particularly prized; but he +was but a farm-lad, and no match for her daughter. + +Jack only saw his sweetheart once during several years. She had not been +well, and was at home for the benefit of "native air." He walked over +the hill with her as they returned from church, and lived on the +remembrance of that walk for two or three years more. Phoebe had given +him her Prayer-book to carry, and he had found a dead flower in it, and +had been jealous. She had asked if he knew what it was, and he had +replied fiercely that he did not, and was not sure that he cared to +know. + +"Ye never did know much about flowers," said Phoebe, demurely, "it's red +bergamot." + +"I love--red bergamot," he whispered penitently. "And thou owes me a +bit. I gave thee some once." And Phoebe had let him put the withered +bits into his own hymn-book, which was more than he deserved. + +Jack was still in the choir, and taught in the Sunday School where he +used to learn. The parson's daughter had had her own way; Daddy Darwin +grumbled at first, but in the end he got a bottle-green Sunday-coat out +of the oak-press that matched the bedstead, and put the house-key into +his pocket, and went to church too. Now, for years past he had not +failed to take his place, week by week, in the pew that was +traditionally appropriated to the use of the Darwins of Dovecot. In such +an hour the sordid cares of the secret panel weighed less heavily on his +soul, and the things that are not seen came nearer--the house not made +with hands, the treasures that rust and moth corrupt not, and which +thieves do not break through to steal. + +Daddy Darwin died of old age. As his health failed, Jack nursed him with +the tenderness of a woman; and kind inquiries, and dainties which Jack +could not have cooked, came in from many quarters where it pleased the +old man to find that he was held in respect and remembrance. + +One afternoon, coming in from the farmyard, Jack found him sitting by +the kitchen-table as he lad left him, but with a dread look of change +upon his face. At first he feared there had been "a stroke," but Daddy +Darwin's mind was clear and his voice firmer than usual. + +"My lad," he said, "fetch me yon tea-pot out of the corner cupboard. T' +one wi' a pole-house[7] painted on it, and some letters. Take care how +ye shift it. It were t' merry feast-pot[8] at my christening, and yon's +t' letters of my father's and mother's names. Take off t' lid. There's +two bits of paper in the inside." + +[Footnote 7: A _pole-house_ is a small dovecot on the top of a pole.] + +[Footnote 8: "Merry feast-pot" is a name given to old pieces of ware, +made in local potteries for local festivals.] + +Jack did as he was bid, and laid the papers (one small and yellow with +age, the other bigger, and blue, and neatly written upon) at his +master's right hand. + +"Read yon," said the old man, pushing the small one towards him. Jack +took it up wondering. It was the letter he had written from the +workhouse fifteen years before. That was all he could see. The past +surged up too thickly before his eyes, and tossing it impetuously from +him, he dropped on a chair by the table, and snatching Daddy Darwin's +hands he held them to his face with tears. + +"GOD bless thee!" he sobbed. "You've been a good maester to me!" + +"_Daddy_," wheezed the old man. "_Daddy_, not maester." And +drawing his right hand away, he laid it solemnly on the young man's +head. "GOD bless _thee_, and reward thee. What have I done i' my +feckless life to deserve a son? But if ever a lad earned a father and a +home, thou hast earned 'em, Jack March." + +He moved his hand again and laid it trembling on the paper. + +"Every word i' this letter ye've made good. Every word, even to t' bit +at the end. 'I love them tumblers as if they were my own,' says you. +Lift thee head, lad, and look at me. _They are thy own!_... Yon +blue paper's my last will and testament, made many a year back by Mr. +Brown, of Green Street, Solicitor, and a very nice gentleman too; and +witnessed by his clerks, two decent young chaps, and civil enough, but +with too much watchchain for their situation. Jack March, my son, I have +left thee maester of Dovecot and all that I have. And there's a bit of +money in t' bed-head that'll help thee to make a fair start, and to bury +me decently atop of my father and mother. Ye may let Bill Sexton toll an +hour-bell for me, for I'm a old standard, if I never were good for much. +Maybe I might ha' done better if things had happened in a different +fashion; but the Lord knows all. I'd like a hymn at the grave, Jack, if +the Vicar has no objections, and do thou sing if thee can. Don't fret, +my son, thou'fet no cause. Twas that sweet voice o' thine took me back +again to public worship, and it's not t' least of all I owe thee, Jack +March. A poor reason lad, for taking up with a neglected duty--a poor +reason--but the Lord is a GOD of mercy, or there'd be small chance for +most on us. If Miss Jenny and her husband come to t' Vicarage this +summer, say I left her my duty and an old man's blessing; and if she +wants any roots out of t' garden, give 'em her, and give her yon old +chest that stands in the back chamber. It belonged to an uncle of my +mother's--a Derbyshire man. They say her husband's a rich gentleman, and +treats her very well. I reckon she may have what she's a mind, new and +polished, but she's always for old lumber. They're a whimsical lot, +gentle and simple. A talking of _women_, Jack, I've a word to say, +if I can fetch my breath to say it. Lad! as sure as you're maester of +Dovecot, you'll give it a missus. Now take heed to me. If ye fetch any +woman home here but Phoebe Shaw, I'll _walk_, and scare ye away +from t' old place. I'm willing for Phoebe, and I charge ye to tell the +lass so hereafter. And tell her it's not because she's fair--too many on +'em are that; and not because she's thrifty and houseproud--her mother's +that, and she's no favorite of mine; but because I've watched her +whenever t' ould cat 's let her be at home, and it's my belief that she +loves ye, knowing nought of _this_" (he laid his hand upon the +will), "and that she'll stick to ye, choose what her folks may say. Aye, +aye, she's not one of t' sort that quits a falling house--_like +rattens_." + +Language fails to convey the bitterness which the old man put into these +last two words. It exhausted him, and his mind wandered. When he had to +some extent recovered himself he spoke again, but very feebly. + +"Tak' my duty to the Vicar, lad, Daddy Darwin's duty, and say he's at t' +last feather of the shuttle, and would be thankful for the Sacrament." + +The Parson had come and gone. Daddy Darwin did not care to lie down, he +breathed with difficulty; so Jack made him easy in a big armchair, and +raked up the fire with cinders, and took a chair on the other side of +the hearth to watch with him. The old man slept comfortably and at last, +much wearied, the young man dozed also. + +He awoke because Daddy Darwin moved, but for a moment he thought he must +be dreaming. So erect the old man stood, and with such delight in his +wide-open eyes. They were looking over Jack's head. + +All that the lad had never seen upon his face seemed to have come back +to it--youth, hope, resolution, tenderness. His lips were trembling with +the smile of acutest joy. + +Suddenly he stretched out his arms, and crying, "Alice!" started forward +and fell--dead--on the breast of his adopted son. + + * * * * * + +Craw! Craw! Craw! The crows flapped slowly home, and the Gaffers moved +off too. The sun was down, and "damps" are bad for "rheumatics." + +"It's a strange tale," said Gaffer II., "but if all's true ye tell me, +there's not too many like him." + +"That's right enough," Gaffer I. admitted. "He's been t' same all +through, and ye should ha' seen the burying he gave t' old chap. He was +rare and good to him by all accounts, and never gainsaid him ought, +except i' not lifting his voice as he should ha' done at t' grave. Jacks +sings a bass solo as well as any man i' t' place, but he stood yonder, +for all t' world like one of them crows, black o' visage, and black wi' +funeral clothes, and choked with crying like a child i'stead of a man." + +"Well, well, t' old chap were all he had, I reckon," said Gaffer II. + +"_That's_ right enough; and for going backwards, as ye may say, and +setting a wild graff on an old standard, yon will's done well for DADDY +DARWIN'S DOVECOT." + + + + +THE BLIND MAN AND THE TALKING DOG. + + +There was once an old man whom Fortune (whose own eyes are bandaged) had +deprived of his sight. She had taken his hearing also, so that he was +deaf. Poor he had always been, and as Time had stolen his youth and +strength from him, they had only left a light burden for Death to carry +when he should come the old man's way. + +But Love (who is blind also) had given the Blind Man a Dog, who led him +out in the morning to a seat in the sun under the crab-tree, and held +his hat for wayside alms, and brought him safely home at sunset. + +The Dog was wise and faithful--as dogs often are--but the wonder of him +was that he could talk. In which will be seen the difference between +dogs and men, most of whom can talk; whilst it is a matter for +admiration if they are wise and faithful. + +One day the Mayor's little son came down the road, and by the hand he +held his playmate Aldegunda. + +"Give the poor Blind Man a penny," said she. + +"You are always wanting me to give away my money," replied the boy +peevishly. "It is well that my father is the richest man in the town, +and that I have a whole silver crown yet in my pocket." + +But he put the penny into the hat which the Dog held out, and the Dog +gave it to his master. + +"Heaven bless you," said the Blind Man. + +"Amen," said the Dog. + +"Aldegunda! Aldegunda!" cried the boy, dancing with delight. "Here is a +dog who can talk. I would give my silver crown for him. Old man, I say, +old man! Will you sell me your dog for a silver crown?" + +"My master is deaf as well as blind," said the Dog. + +"What a miserable old creature he must be," said the boy +compassionately. + +"Men do not smile when they are miserable, do they?" said the Dog; "and +my master smiles sometimes--when the sun warms right through our coats +to our bones; when he feels the hat shake against his knee as the +pennies drop in; and when I lick his hand." + +"But for all that, he is a poor wretched old beggar, in want of +everything," persisted the boy. "Now I am the Mayor's only son, and he +is the richest man in the town. Come and live with me, and I will give +the Blind Man my silver crown. I should be perfectly happy if I had a +talking dog of my own." + +"It is worth thinking of," said the Dog. "I should certainly like a +master who was perfectly happy. You are sure that there is nothing else +that you wish for?" + +"I wish I were a man," replied the boy. "To do exactly as I chose, and +have plenty of money to spend, and holidays all the year round." + +"That sounds well," said the Dog. "Perhaps I had better wait till you +grow up. There is nothing else that you want, I suppose?" + +"I want a horse," said the boy, "a real black charger. My father ought +to know that I am too old for a hobby-horse. It vexes me to look at it." + +"I must wait for the charger, I see," said the Dog. "Nothing vexes you +but the hobby-horse, I hope?" + +"Aldegunda vexes me more than anything," answered the boy, with an +aggrieved air; "and it's very hard when I am so fond of her. She always +tumbles down when we run races, her legs are so short. It's her birthday +to-day, but she toddles as badly as she did yesterday, though she's a +year older." + +"She will have learned to run by the time that you are a man," said the +Dog. "So nice a little lady can give you no other cause of annoyance, I +am sure?" + +The boy frowned. + +"She is always wanting something. She wants something now, I see. What +do you want, Aldegunda?" + +"I wish--" said Aldegunda, timidly,--"I should like--the blind man to +have the silver crown, and for us to keep the penny, if you can get it +back out of the hat." + +"That's just the way you go on," said the boy, angrily. "You always +think differently from me. Now remember, Aldegunda, I won't marry you +when you grow big, unless you agree with what I do, like the wife in the +story of 'What the Goodman does is sure to be right.'" + +On hearing this Aldegunda sobbed till she burst the strings of her hat, +and the boy had to tie them afresh. + +"I won't marry you at all if you cry," said he. + +But at that she only cried the more, and they went away bickering into +the green lanes. + +As to the old man, he had heard nothing; and when the dog licked his +withered hand he smiled. + +Many a time did the boy return with his playmate to try and get the +Talking Dog. But the Dog always asked if he had yet got all that he +wanted, and, being an honorable child, the boy was too truthful to say +that he was content when he was not. + +"The day that you want nothing more but me I will be your dog," it said. +"Unless, indeed, my present master should have attained perfect +happiness before you." + +"I am not afraid of that," said the boy. + +In time the Mayor died, and his widow moved to her native town and took +her son with her. + +Years passed, and the Blind Man lived on; for when one gets very old and +keeps very quiet in his little corner of the world, Death seems +sometimes to forget to remove him. + +Years passed, and the Mayor's son became a man, and was strong and rich, +and had a fine black charger. Aldegunda grew up also. She was very +beautiful, wonderfully beautiful, and Love (who is blind) gave her to +her old playmate. + +The wedding was a fine one, and when it was over the bridegroom mounted +his black charger and took his bride behind him, and rode away into the +green lanes. + +"Ah, what delight!" he said. "Now we will ride through the town where we +lived when we were children; and if the Blind Man is still alive, you +shall give him a silver crown; and if the Talking Dog is alive, I shall +claim him, for to-day I am perfectly happy and want nothing." + +Aldegunda thought to herself--"We are so happy, and have so much, that I +do not like to take the Blind Man's dog from him;" but she did not dare +to say so. One--if not two--must bear and forbear to be happy even on +one's wedding day. + +By-and-bye they rode under the crab-tree, but the seat was empty. "What +has become of the Blind Man?" the Mayor's son asked of a peasant who was +near. + +"He died two days ago," said the peasant. "He is buried to-day, and the +priest and chanters are now returning from the grave." + +"And the Talking Dog?" asked the young man. + +"He is at the grave now," said the peasant; "but he has neither spoken +nor eaten since his master died." + +"We have come in the nick of time," said the young man triumphantly, and +he rode to the churchyard. + +By the grave was the dog, as the man had said, and up the winding path +came the priest and his young chanters, who sang with shrill, clear +voices--"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." + +"Come and live with me, now your old master is gone," said the young +man, stooping over the dog. But he made no reply. + +"I think he is dead, sir," said the grave-digger. + +"I don't believe it," said the young man fretfully. "He was an Enchanted +Dog, and he promised I should have him when I could say what I am ready +to say now. He should have kept his promise." + +But Aldegunda had taken the dog's cold head into her arms, and her tears +fell fast over it. + +"You forget," she said; "he only promised to come to you when you were +happy, if his old master were not happier first; and, perhaps--" + +"I remember that you always disagree with me," said the young man, +impatiently. "You always did do so. Tears on our wedding-day, too! I +suppose the truth is that no one is happy." + +Aldegunda made no answer, for it is not from those one loves that he +will willingly learn that with a selfish and imperious temper happiness +never dwells. + +And as they rode away again into the green lanes, the shrill voices of +the chanters followed them--"Blessed are the dead. Blessed are the +dead." + + + + +"SO-SO." + + +"Be sure, my child," said the widow to her little daughter, "that you +always do just as you are told." + +"Very well, Mother." + +"Or at any rate do what will do just as well," said the small house-dog, +as he lay blinking at the fire. + +"You darling!" cried little Joan, and she sat down on the hearth and +hugged him. But he got up and shook himself, and moved three turns +nearer the oven, to be out of the way; for though her arms were soft she +had kept her doll in them, and that was made of wood, which hurts. + +"What a dear, kind house-dog you are!" said little Joan, and she meant +what she said, for it does feel nice to have the sharp edges of one's +duty a little softened off for one. + +He was no particular kind of a dog, but he was very smooth to stroke, +and had a nice way of blinking with his eyes, which it was soothing to +see. There had been a difficulty about his name. The name of the +house-dog before him was Faithful, and well it became him, as his +tombstone testified. The one before that was called Wolf. He was very +wild, and ended his days on the gallows, for worrying sheep. The little +house-dog never chased anything, to the widow's knowledge. There was no +reason whatever for giving him a bad name, and she thought of several +good ones, such as Faithful, and Trusty, and Keeper, which are fine +old-fashioned titles, but none of these seemed quite perfectly to suit +him. So he was called So-so; and a very nice soft name it is. + +The widow was only a poor woman, though she contrived by her industry to +keep a decent home together, and to get now one and now another little +comfort for herself and her child. + +One day she was going out on business, and she called her little +daughter and said to her, "I am going out for two hours. You are too +young to protect yourself and the house, and So-so is not as strong as +Faithful was. But when I go, shut the house-door and bolt the big wooden +bar, and be sure that you do not open it for any reason whatever till I +return. If strangers come, So-so may bark, which he can do as well as a +bigger dog. Then they will go away. With this summer's savings I have +bought a quilted petticoat for you and a duffle cloak for myself against +the winter, and if I get the work I am going after to-day, I shall buy +enough wool to knit warm stockings for us both. So be patient till I +return, and then we will have the plumcake that is in the cupboard for +tea." + +"Thank you, Mother." + +"Good-bye, my child. Be sure you do just as I have told you," said the +widow. + +"Very well, Mother." + +Little Joan laid down her doll, and shut the house-door, and fastened +the big bolt. It was very heavy, and the kitchen looked gloomy when she +had done it. + +"I wish Mother had taken us all three with her, and had locked the house +and put the key in her big pocket, as she has done before," said little +Joan, as she got into the rocking-chair, to put her doll to sleep. + +"Yes, it would have done just as well," So-so replied as he stretched +himself on the hearth. + +By-and-bye Joan grew tired of hushabying the doll, who looked none the +sleepier for it, and she took the three-legged stool and sat down in +front of the clock to watch the hands. After a while she drew a deep +sigh. + +"There are sixty seconds in every single minute, So-so," said she. + +"So I have heard," said So-so. He was snuffing in the back place, which +was not usually allowed. + +"And sixty whole minutes in every hour, So-so." + +"You don't say so!" growled So-so. He had not found a bit, and the cake +was on the top shelf. There was not so much as a spilt crumb, though he +snuffed in every corner of the kitchen, till he stood snuffing under the +house-door. + +"The air smells fresh," he said. + +"It's a beautiful day, I know," said little Joan. "I wish Mother had +allowed us to sit on the doorstep. We could have taken care of the +house--" + +"Just as well," said So-so. + +Little Joan came to smell the air at the keyhole, and, as So-so had +said, it smelt very fresh. Besides, one could see from the window how +fine the evening was. + +"It's not exactly what Mother told us to do," said Joan, "but I do +believe--" + +"It would do just as well," said So-so. + +By-and-bye little Joan unfastened the bar, and opened the door, and she +and the doll and So-so went out and sat on the doorstep. + +Not a stranger was to be seen. The sun shone delightfully. An evening +sun, and not too hot. All day it had been ripening the corn in the field +close by, and this glowed and waved in the breeze. + +"It does just as well, and better," said little Joan, "for if anyone +comes we can see him coming up the field-path." + +"Just so," said So-so, blinking in the sunshine. + +Suddenly Joan jumped up. + +"Oh!" cried she, "there's a bird, a big bird. Dear So-so, can you see +him? I can't, because of the sun. What a queer noise he makes. Crake! +crake! Oh, I can see him now! He is not flying, he is running, and he +has gone into the corn. I do wish I were in the corn, I would catch him, +and put him in a cage." + +"I'll catch him," said So-so, and he put up his tail, and started off. + +"No, no!" cried Joan. "You are not to go. You must stay and take care of +the house, and bark if any one comes." + +"You could scream, and that would do just as well," replied So-so, with +his tail still up. + +"No, it wouldn't," cried little Joan. + +"Yes, it would," reiterated So-so. + +Whilst they were bickering, an old woman came up to the door; she had a +brown face, and black hair, and a very old red cloak. + +"Good evening, my little dear," said she. "Are you all at home this fine +evening?" + +"Only three of us," said Joan; "I, and my doll, and So-so. Mother' has +gone to the town on business, and we are taking care of the house, but +So-so wants to go after the bird we saw run into the corn." + +"Was it a pretty bird, my little dear?" asked the old woman. + +"It was a very curious one," said Joan, "and I should like to go after +it myself, but we can't leave the house." + +"Dear, dear! Is there no neighbor would sit on the doorstep for you and +keep the house till you just slip down to the field after the curious +bird?" said the old woman. + +"I'm afraid not," said little Joan. "Old Martha, our neighbor, is now +bedridden. Of course, if she had been able to mind the house instead of +us, it would have done just as well." + +"I have some distance to go this evening," said the old woman, "but I do +not object to a few minutes' rest, and sooner than that you should lose +the bird I will sit on the doorstep to oblige you, while you run down to +the cornfield." + +"But can you bark if any one comes?" asked little Joan. "For if you +can't, So-so must stay with you." + +"I can call you and the dog if I see any one coming, and that will do +just as well," said the old woman. + +"So it will," replied little Joan, and off she ran to the cornfield, +where, for that matter, So-so had run before her, and was bounding and +barking and springing among the wheat stalks. + +They did not catch the bird, though they stayed longer than they had +intended, and though So-so seemed to know more about hunting than was +supposed. + +"I dare say mother has come home," said little Joan, as they went back +up the field-path. "I hope she won't think we ought to have stayed in +the house." + +"It was taken care of," said So-so, "and that must do just as well." + +When they reached the house, the widow had not come home. + +But the old woman had gone, and she had taken the quilted petticoat and +the duffle cloak, and the plum-cake from the top shelf away with her; +and no more was ever heard of any of the lot. + +"For the future, my child," said the widow, "I hope you will always do +just as you are told, whatever So-so may say." + +"I will, Mother," said little Joan (And she did.) But the house-dog sat +and blinked. He dared not speak, he was in disgrace. + +I do not feel quite sure about So-so. Wild dogs often amend their ways +far on this side of the gallows, and the faithful sometimes fall; but +when any one begins by being only So-so, he is very apt to be So-so to +the end. So-sos so seldom change. + +But this one was _very_ soft and nice, and he got no cake that +tea-time. On the whole, we will hope that he lived to be a good dog ever +after. + + + + +THE TRINITY FLOWER. + +A LEGEND. + + + "Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own + The wiser love severely kind: + Since, richer for its chastening grown, + I see, whereas I once was blind." + _The Clear Vision, J. G. Whittler_ + + +In days of yore there was once a certain hermit, who dwelt in a cell, +which he had fashioned for himself from a natural cave in the side of a +hill. + +Now this hermit had a great love for flowers, and was moreover learned +in the virtues of herbs, and in that great mystery of healing which lies +hidden among the green things of God. And so it came to pass that the +country people from all parts came to him for the simples which grew in +the little garden which he had made before his cell. And as his fame +spread, and more people came to him, he added more and more to the plat +which he had reclaimed from the waste land around. + +But after many years there came a spring when the colors of the flowers +seemed paler to the hermit than they used to be; and as summer drew on +their shapes became indistinct, and he mistook one plant for another; +and when autumn came, he told them by their various scents, and by their +form, rather than by sight; and when the flowers were gone, and winter +had come, the hermit was quite blind. + +Now in the hamlet below there lived a boy who had become known to the +hermit on this manner. On the edge of the hermit's garden there grew two +crab trees, from the fruit of which he made every year a certain +confection which was very grateful to the sick. One year many of these +crab-apples were stolen, and the sick folk of the hamlet had very little +conserve. So the following year, as the fruit was ripening, the hermit +spoke every day to those who came to his cell, saying:-- + +"I pray you, good people, to make it known that he who robs these crab +trees, robs not me alone, which is dishonest, but the sick, which is +inhuman." + +And yet once more the crab-apples were taken. + +The following evening, as the hermit sat on the side of the hill, he +overheard two boys disputing about the theft. + +"It must either have been a very big man, or a small boy to do it," said +one. "So I say, and I have my reason." + +"And what is thy reason, Master Wiseacre?" asked the other. + +"The fruit is too high to be plucked except by a very big man," said the +first boy. "And the branches are not strong enough for any but a child +to climb." + +"Canst thou think of no other way to rob an apple-tree but by standing +a-tip-toe, or climbing up to the apples, when they should come down to +thee?" said the second boy. "Truly thy head will never save thy heels; +but here's a riddle for thee: + + "Riddle me riddle me re, + Four big brothers are we; + We gather the fruit, but climb never a tree. + +"Who are they?" + +"Four tall robbers, I suppose," said the other. + +"Tush!" cried his comrade. "They are the four winds; and when they +whistle, down falls the ripest. But others can shake besides the winds, +as I will show thee if thou hast any doubts in the matter." + +And as he spoke he sprang to catch the other boy, who ran from him; and +they chased each other down the hill, and the hermit heard no more. + +But as he turned to go home he said, "The thief was not far away when +thou stoodst near. Nevertheless, I will have patience. It needs not that +I should go to seek thee, for what saith the Scripture? _Thy sin_ +will find thee out." And he made conserve of such apples as were left, +and said nothing. + +Now after a certain time a plague broke out in the hamlet; and it was so +sore, and there were so few to nurse the many who were sick, that, +though it was not the wont of the hermit ever to leave his place, yet in +their need he came down and ministered to the people in the village. And +one day, as he passed a certain house, he heard moans from within, and +entering, he saw lying upon a bed a boy who tossed and moaned in fever, +and cried out most miserably that his throat was parched and burning. +And when the hermit looked upon his face, behold it was the boy who had +given the riddle of the four winds upon the side of the hill. + +Then the hermit fed him with some of the confection which he had with +him, and it was so grateful to the boy's parched palate, that he thanked +and blessed the hermit aloud, and prayed him to leave a morsel of it +behind, to soothe his torments in the night. + +Then said the hermit, "My Son, I would that I had more of this +confection, for the sake of others as well as for thee. But indeed I +have only two trees which bear the fruit whereof this is made; and in +two successive years have the apples been stolen by some thief, thereby +robbing not only me, which is dishonest, but the poor, which is +inhuman." + +Then the boy's theft came back to his mind, and he burst into tears, and +cried, "My Father, I took the crab-apples!" + +And after awhile he recovered his health; the plague also abated in the +hamlet, and the hermit went back to his cell. But the boy would +thenceforth never leave him, always wishing to show his penitence and +gratitude. And though the hermit sent him away, he ever returned, +saying, + +"Of what avail is it to drive me from thee, since I am resolved to serve +thee, even as Samuel served Eli, and Timothy ministered unto St. Paul?" + +But the hermit said, "My rule is to live alone, and without companions; +wherefore begone." + +And when the boy still came, he drove him from the garden. + +Then the boy wandered far and wide, over moor and bog, and gathered rare +plants and herbs, and laid them down near the hermit's cell. And when +the hermit was inside, the boy came into the garden, and gathered the +stones and swept the paths, and tied up such plants as were drooping, +and did all neatly and well, for he was a quick and skilful lad. And +when the hermit said, + +"Thou hast done well, and I thank thee; but now begone," he only +answered, + +"What avails it, when I am resolved to serve thee?" + +So at last there came a day when the hermit said, "It may be that it is +ordained; wherefore abide, my Son." + +And the boy answered, "Even so, for I am resolved to serve thee." + +Thus he remained. And thenceforward the hermit's garden throve as it had +never thriven before. For, though he had skill, the hermit was old and +feeble; but the boy was young and active, and he worked hard, and it was +to him a labor of love. And being a clever boy, he quickly knew the +names and properties of the plants as well as the hermit himself. And +when he was not working, he would go far afield to seek for new herbs. +And he always returned to the village at night. + +Now when the hermit's sight began to fail, the boy put him right if he +mistook one plant for another; and when the hermit became quite blind, +he relied completely upon the boy to gather for him the herbs that he +wanted. And when anything new was planted, the boy led the old man to +the spot, that he might know that it was so many paces in such a +direction from the cell, and might feel the shape and texture of the +leaves, and learn its scent. And through the skill and knowledge of the +boy, the hermit was in no wise hindered from preparing his accustomed +remedies, for he knew the names and virtues of the herbs, and where +every plant grew. And when the sun shone, the boy would guide his +master's steps into the garden, and would lead him up to certain +flowers; but to those which had a perfume of their own the old man could +go without help, being guided by the scent. And as he fingered their +leaves and breathed their fragrance, he would say, "Blessed be GOD for +every herb of the field, but thrice blessed for those that smell." + +And at the end of the garden was a set bush of rosemary. "For," said the +hermit, "to this we must all come." Because rosemary is the herb they +scatter over the dead. And he knew where almost everything grew, and +what he did not know the boy told him. + +Yet for all this, and though he had embraced poverty and solitude with +joy, in the service of GOD and man, yet so bitter was blindness to him, +that he bewailed the loss of his sight, with a grief that never +lessened. + +"For," said he, "if it had pleased our Lord to send me any other +affliction, such as a continual pain or a consuming sickness, I would +have borne it gladly, seeing it would have left me free to see these +herbs, which I use for the benefit of the poor. But now the sick suffer +through my blindness, and to this boy also I am a continual burden." + +And when the boy called him at the hours of prayer, saying, "My Father, +it is now time for the Nones office, for the marygold is closing," or +"The Vespers bell will soon sound from the valley, for the bindweed +bells are folded," and the hermit recited the appointed prayers, he +always added, + +"I beseech Thee take away my blindness, as Thou didst heal Thy servant +the son of Timaeus." + +And as the boy and he sorted herbs, he cried, + +"Is there no balm in Gilead?" + +And the boy answered, "The balm of Gilead grows six full paces from the +gate, my Father." + +But the hermit said, "I spoke in a figure, my son I meant not that herb. +But, alas! Is there no remedy to heal the physician? No cure for the +curer?" + +And the boy's heart grew heavier day by day, because of the hermit's +grief. For he loved him. + +Now one morning as the boy came up from the village, the hermit met him, +groping painfully with his hands, but with joy in his countenance, and +he said, "Is that thy step, my son? Come in, for I have somewhat to tell +thee." + +And he said, "A vision has been vouchsafed to me, even a dream. +Moreover, I believe that there shall be a cure for my blindness." Then +the boy was glad, and begged of the hermit to relate his dream, which he +did as follows:-- + +"I dreamed, and behold I stood in the garden--thou also with me--and +many people were gathered at the gate, to whom, with thy help, I gave +herbs of healing in such fashion as I have been able since this +blindness came upon me. And when they were gone, I smote upon my +forehead, and said, 'Where is the herb that shall heal my affliction?' +And a voice beside me said, 'Here, my son,' And I cried to thee, 'Who +spoke?' And thou saidst, 'It is a man in pilgrim's weeds, and lo, he +hath a strange flower in his hand.' Then said the Pilgrim, 'It is a +Trinity Flower. Moreover, I suppose that when thou hast it, thou wilt +see clearly.' Then I thought that thou didst take the flower from the +Pilgrim and put it in my hand. And lo, my eyes were opened, and I saw +clearly. And I knew the Pilgrim's face, though where I have seen him I +cannot yet recall. But I believed him to be Raphael the Archangel--he +who led Tobias, and gave sight to his father. And even as it came to me +to know him, he vanished; and I saw him no more." + +"And what was the Trinity Flower like, my Father?" asked the boy. + +"It was about the size of Herb Paris, my son," replied the hermit. "But +instead of being fourfold every way, it numbered the mystic Three. Every +part was threefold. The leaves were three, the petals three, the sepals +three. The flower was snow-white, but on each of the three parts it was +stained with crimson stripes, like white garments dyed in blood." +[Footnote: _Trillium erythrocarpum._ North America.] + +Then the boy started up, saying, "If there be such a plant on the earth +I will find it for thee." + +But the hermit laid his hand on him, and said, "Nay, my son, leave me +not, for I have need of thee. And the flower will come yet, and then I +shall see." + +And all day long the old man murmured to himself, "Then I shall see." + +"And didst thou see me, and the garden, in thy dream, my Father?" asked +the boy. + +"Ay, that I did, my son. And I meant to say to thee that it much +pleaseth me that thou art grown so well, and of such a strangely fair +countenance. Also the garden is such as I have never before beheld it, +which must needs be due to thy care. But wherefore didst thou not tell +me of those fair palms that have grown where the thorn hedge was wont to +be? I was but just stretching out my hand for some, when I awoke." + +"There are no palms there, my Father," said the boy. + +"Now, indeed it is thy youth that makes thee so little observant," said +the hermit. "However, I pardon thee, if it were only for that good +thought which moved thee to plant a yew beyond the rosemary bush; seeing +that the yew is the emblem of eternal life, which lies beyond the +grave." + +But the boy said, "There is no yew there, my Father." + +"Have I not seen it, even in a vision?" cried the hermit. "Thou wilt say +next that all the borders are not set with heart's-ease, which indeed +must be through thy industry; and whence they come I know not, but they +are most rare and beautiful, and my eyes long sore to see them again." + +"Alas, my Father!" cried the boy, "the borders are set with rue, and +there are but a few clumps of heart's-ease here and there." + +"Could I forget what I saw in an hour?" asked the old man, angrily. "And +did not the holy Raphael himself point to them, saying, 'Blessed are the +eyes that behold this garden, where the borders are set with +heart's-ease, and the hedges crowned with palm!' But thou wouldst know +better than an archangel, forsooth." + +Then the boy wept; and when the hermit heard him weeping, he put his arm +round him and said, + +"Weep not, my dear son. And I pray thee, pardon me that I spoke harshly +to thee. For indeed I am ill-tempered by reason of my infirmities; and +as for thee, GOD will reward thee for thy goodness to me, as I never +can. Moreover, I believe it is thy modesty, which is as great as thy +goodness, that hath hindered thee from telling me of all that thou hast +done for my garden, even to those fair and sweet everlasting flowers, +the like of which I never saw before, which thou hast set in the east +border, and where even now I hear the bees humming in the sun." + +Then the boy looked sadly out into the garden, and answered, "I cannot +lie to thee. There are no everlasting flowers. It is the flowers of the +thyme in which the bees are rioting. And in the hedge bottom there +creepeth the bitter-sweet." + +But the hermit heard him not. He had groped his way out into the +sunshine, and wandered up and down the walks, murmuring to himself, +"Then I shall see." + +Now when the Summer was past, one autumn morning there came to the +garden gate a man in pilgrim's weeds; and when he saw the boy he +beckoned to him, and giving him a small tuber root, he said, + +"Give this to thy master. It is the root of the Trinity Flower." + +And he passed on down towards the valley. + +Then the boy ran hastily to the hermit; and when he had told him, and +given him the root, he said, + +"The face of the pilgrim is known to me also, O my Father! For I +remember when I lay sick of the plague, that ever it seemed to me as if +a shadowy figure passed in and out, and went up and down the streets, +and his face was as the face of this pilgrim. But--I cannot deceive +thee--methought it was the Angel of Death." + +Then the hermit mused; and after a little space he answered, + +"It was then also that I saw him. I remember now. Nevertheless, let us +plant the root, and abide what GOD shall send." + +And thus they did. + +And as the Autumn and Winter went by, the hermit became very feeble, but +the boy constantly cheered him, saying, "Patience, my Father. Thou shalt +see yet!" + +But the hermit replied, "My son, I repent me that I have not been +patient under affliction. Moreover, I have set thee an ill example, in +that I have murmured at that which GOD--Who knowest best--ordained for +me." + +And when the boy ofttimes repeated, "Thou shalt yet see," the hermit +answered, "If GOD will. When GOD will. As GOD will." + +And when he said the prayers for the Hours, he no longer added what he +had added beforetime, but evermore repeated, "If THOU wilt. When THOU +wilt. As THOU wilt!" + +And so the Winter passed; and when the snow lay on the ground the boy +and the hermit talked of the garden; and the boy no longer contradicted +the old man, though he spoke continually of the heart's-ease, and the +everlasting flowers, and the palm. For he said, "When Spring comes I may +be able to get these plants, and fit the garden to his vision." + +And at length the Spring came. And with it rose the Trinity Flower. And +when the leaves unfolded, they were three, as the hermit had said. Then +the boy was wild with joy and with impatience. + +And when the sun shone for two days together, he would kneel by the +flower, and say, "I pray thee, Lord, send showers, that it may wax +apace." And when it rained, he said, "I pray Thee, send sunshine, that +it may blossom speedily." For he knew not what to ask. And he danced +about the hermit, and cried, "Soon shalt them see." + +But the hermit trembled, and said, "Not as I will, but as THOU wilt!" + +And so the bud formed. And at length one evening before he went down to +the hamlet, the boy came to the hermit and said, "The bud is almost +breaking, my Father. To-morrow thou shalt see." + +Then the hermit moved his hands till he laid them on the boy's head, and +he said, + +"The Lord repay thee sevenfold for all thou hast done for me, dear +child. And now I pray thee, my son, give me thy pardon for all in which +I have sinned against thee by word or deed, for indeed my thoughts of +thee have ever been tender." And when the boy wept, the hermit still +pressed him, till he said that he forgave him. And as they unwillingly +parted, the hermit said, "I pray thee, dear son, to remember that, +though late, I conformed myself to the will of GOD." + +Saying which, the hermit went into his cell, and the boy returned to the +village. + +But so great was his anxiety, that he could not rest; and he returned to +the garden ere it was light, and sat by the flower till the dawn. + +And with the first dim light he saw that the Trinity Flower was in +bloom. And as the hermit had said, it was white, and stained with +crimson as with blood. + +Then the boy shed tears of joy, and he plucked the flower and ran into +the hermit's cell, where the hermit lay very still upon his couch. And +the boy said, "I will not disturb him. When he wakes he will find the +flower." And he went out and sat down outside the cell and waited. And +being weary as he waited, he fell asleep. + +Now before sunrise, whilst it was yet early, he was awakened by the +voice of the hermit crying, "My son, my dear son!" and he jumped up, +saying, "My Father!" + +But as he spoke the hermit passed him. And as he passed he turned, and +the boy saw that his eyes were open. And the hermit fixed them long and +tenderly on him. + +Then the boy cried, "Ah, tell me, my Father, dost thou see?" + +And he answered, _"I see now!"_ and so passed on down the walk. + +And as he went through the garden, in the still dawn, the boy trembled, +for the hermit's footsteps gave no sound. And he passed beyond the +rosemary bush, and came not again. + +And when the day wore on, and the hermit did not return, the boy went +into his cell. + +Without, the sunshine dried the dew from paths on which the hermit's +feet had left no prints, and cherished the spring flowers bursting into +bloom. But within, the hermit's dead body lay stretched upon his pallet, +and the Trinity Flower was in his hand. + + + + +THE KYRKEGRIM TURNED PREACHER. + +A LEGEND. + + +It is said that in Norway every church has its own Niss, or Brownie. + +They are of the same race as the Good People, who haunt farm houses, and +do the maids' work for a pot of cream. They are the size of a year-old +child, but their faces are the faces of aged men. Their common dress is +of gray home-spun, with red peaked caps; but on Michaelmas Day they wear +round hats. + +The Church Niss is called Kyrkegrim. His duty is to keep the church +clean, and to scatter the marsh-marigold flowers on the floor before +service. He also keeps order in the congregation, pinches those who fall +asleep, cuffs irreverent boys, and hustles mothers with crying children +out of church as quickly and decorously as possible. + +But his business is not with church-brawlers alone. + +When the last snow avalanche has slipped from the high-pitched roof, and +the gentian is bluer than the sky, and Baldur's Eyebrow blossoms in the +hot Spring sun, pious folk are wont to come to church some time before +service, and to bring their spades, and rakes, and watering-pots with +them, to tend the graves of the dead. The Kyrkegrim sits on the Lych +Gate and overlooks them. + +At those who do not lay by their tools in good time he throws pebbles, +crying to each, _"Skynde dig!"_ (Make haste!), and so drives them +in. And when the bells begin, should any man fail to bow to the church +as the custom is, the Kyrkegrim snatches his hat from behind, and he +sees it no more. + +Nothing displeases the Kyrkegrim more than when people fall asleep +during the sermon. This will be seen in the following story. + +Once upon a time there was a certain country church, which was served by +a very mild and excellent priest, and haunted by a most active +Kyrkegrim. + +Not a speck of dust was to be seen from the altar to the porch, and the +behavior of the congregation was beyond reproach. + +But there was one fat farmer who slept during the sermon, and do what +the Kyrkegrim would, he could not keep him awake. Again and again did he +pinch him, nudge him, or let in a cold draught of wind upon his neck. +The fat farmer shook himself, pulled up his neck-kerchief, and dozed off +again. + +"Doubtless the fault is in my sermons," said the priest, when the +Kyrkegrim complained to him. For he was humble-minded. + +But the Kyrkegrim knew that this was not the case, for there was no +better preacher in all the district. + +And yet when he overheard the farmer's sharp-tongued little wife speak +of this and that in the discourse, he began to think it might be so. No +doubt the preacher spoke somewhat fast or slow, a little too loud or too +soft. And he was not "stirring" enough, said the farmer's wife; a +failing which no one had ever laid at her door. + +"His soul is in my charge," sighed the good priest, "and I cannot even +make him hear what I have got to say. A heavy reckoning will be demanded +of me!" + +"The sermons are in fault, beyond a doubt," the Kyrkegrim said. "The +farmer's wife is quite right. She's a sensible woman, and can use a mop +as well as myself." + +"Hoot, hoot!" cried the church owl, pushing his head out of the +ivy-bush. "And shall she be Kyrkegrim when thou art turned preacher, and +the preacher sits on the judgment seat? Not so, little Miss! Dust thou +the pulpit, and leave the parson to preach, and let the Maker of souls +reckon with them." + +"If the preacher cannot keep the people awake, it is time that another +took his place," said the Kyrkegrim. + +"He is not bound to find ears as well as arguments," retorted the owl, +and he drew back into his ivy-bush. + +But the Kyrkegrim settled his red cap firmly on his head, and betook +himself to the priest, whose meekness (as is apt to be the case) +encouraged the opposite qualities in those with whom he had to do. + +"The farmer must be roused somehow," said he. "It is a disgrace to us +all, and what, in all the hundreds of years I have been Kyrkegrim, never +befell me before. It will be well if next Sunday you preach a stirring +sermon on some very important subject." + +So the preacher preached on Sin--fair of flower, and bitter of +fruit!--and as he preached his own cheeks grew pale for other men's +perils, and the Kyrkegrim trembled as he sat listening in the porch, +though he had no soul to lose. + +"Was that stirring enough?" he asked, twitching the sleeve of the +farmer's wife as she flounced out after service. + +"Splendid!" said she, "and must have hit some folk pretty hard too." + +"It kept your husband awake this time, I should think," said the +Kyrkegrim. + +"Heighty teighty!" cried the farmer's wife. "I'd have you to know my +good man is as decent a body as any in the parish, if he does take a nap +on Sundays! He is no sinner if he is no saint, thank Heaven, and the +parson knows better than to preach at him." + +"Next Sunday," said the Kyrkegrim to the priest, "preach about something +which concerns every one; respectable people as well as others." + +So the preacher preached of Death--whom tears cannot move, nor riches +bribe, nor power defy. The uncertain interruption and the only certain +end of all life's labors! And as he preached, the women sitting in their +seats wept for the dead whose graves they had been tending, and down the +aged cheeks of the Kyrkegrim there stole tears of pity for poor men, +whose love and labors are cut short so soon. + +But the farmer slept as before. + +"Do you not expect to die?" asked the Kyrkegrim. + +"Surely," replied the farmer, "we must all die some day, and one does +not need a preacher to tell him that. But it was a funeral sermon, my +wife thinks. There has been bereavement in the miller's family." + +"Men are a strange race," thought the Kyrkegrim; but he went to the +priest and said--"The farmer is not afraid of death. You must find some +subject of which men really stand in awe." + +So when Sunday came round again, the preacher preached of judgment--that +dread Avenger who dogs the footsteps of trespass, even now! That awful +harvest of whirlwind and corruption which they must reap who sow to the +wind and to the flesh! Lightly regarded, but biding its time, till a +man's forgotten follies find him out at last. + +But the farmer slept on. He did not wake when the preacher spoke of +judgment to come, the reckoning that cannot be shunned, the trump of the +Archangel, and the Day of Doom. + +"On Michaelmas Day I shall preach myself," said the Kyrkegrim, "and if I +cannot rouse him, I shall give up my charge here." + +This troubled the poor priest, for so good a Kyrkegrim was not likely to +be found again. + +Nevertheless he consented, for he was very meek, and when Michaelmas Day +came the Kyrkegrim pulled a preacher's gown over his homespun coat, and +laid his round hat on the desk by the iron-clamped Bible, and began his +sermon. + +"I shall give no text," said he, "but when I have said what seems good +to me, it is for those who hear to see if the Scriptures bear me out." + +This was an uncommon beginning, and most of the good folk pricked their +ears, the farmer among them, for novelty is agreeable in church as +elsewhere. + +"I speak," said the Kyrkegrim, "of that which is the last result of sin, +the worst of deaths, and the beginning of judgment--hardness of heart." + +The farmer looked a little uncomfortable, and the Kyrkegrim went bravely +on. + +"Let us seek examples in Scripture. We will speak of Pharaoh." + +But when the Kyrkegrim spoke of Pharaoh the farmer was at ease again. +And by-and-bye a film stole gently before his eyes, and he nodded in his +seat. + +This made the Kyrkegrim very angry, for he did not wish to give up his +place, and yet a Niss may not break his word. + +"Let us look at the punishment of Pharaoh," he cried. But the farmer's +eyes were still closed and the Kyrkegrim became agitated, and turned +hastily over the leaves of the iron-clamped Bible before him. + +"We will speak of the plagues," said he. "The plague of blood, the +plague of frogs, the plague of lice, the plague of flies--" + +At this moment the farmer snored. + +For a brief instant, anger and dismay kept the Kyrkegrim silent. Then +shutting the iron clamps he pushed the Book on one side, and scrambling +on to a stool, stretched his little body well over the desk, and said, +"But these flies were as nothing to the fly that is coming in the +turnip-crop!" + +The words were hardly out of his mouth when the farmer sat suddenly +upright, and half rising from his place, cried anxiously, "Eh, what sir? +What does he say, wife? A new fly among the turnips?" + +"Ah, soul of clay!" yelled the indignant Kyrkegrim, as he hurled his +round hat at the gaping farmer. "Is it indeed for such as thee that +Eternal Life is kept in store?" + +And drawing the preacher's gown over his head, he left it in the pulpit, +and scrambling down the steps hastened out of church. + + * * * * * + +As he had been successful in rousing the sleepy farmer the Kyrkegrim did +not abandon his duties; but it is said that thenceforward he kept to +them alone, and left heavier responsibilities in higher hands. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and +Other Stories, by Juliana Horatio Ewing + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACKANAPES, DADDY DARWIN'S *** + +***** This file should be named 7865.txt or 7865.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/6/7865/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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