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( i!^}'

■%

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

'• ain't you got no nrrroxs in all dis big stor '.

»';>•)

(X'^^

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

AND OTHER STORIES OF
CHILDREN

CLARA MORRIS

AUTHOR OF "A SILENT SINGER"

NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO. ,

1899

Property of the Library
University of Waterloo

Copyriglit. 1H09. l)y Curtis Pdrlirhino Co.

M "B 3

-V

The DeVinne Press.

TO
DR. JOHN McENTEE WETMORE

Revered Physician and Loyal Friend
I Gratefully Dedicate this Book

CLARA MORRIS HARRIOTT

CONTENTS

TAOK

Little *^Jim Crow" ix

My Pirate 39

"Shins" 01

"My Mr. Edward" 71

The Gallant Theophilus 103

A Pretty Plan . 125

An Amateur Santa Glaus . . . . . 143

"Marty Many-Things" 155

A Little Royal Princess . . . . . 179
The Princess Porcelain . . , . . .195

The Hermits 207

Vll

/»:/•?

LITTLE "JIM CROW

..^

-"^a

LITTLE "JIM CROW

'• n

\ A;

HE strange power which or-
dains that each member of a
colored family should be of a
different shade from every
other member must have been in full
force when little "Jim Crow's" case was
under consideration, for he was black-
uncompromisingly black.

He had a buff sister, a brown mother,
and a red-brown brother ; but, for all that,
his own smooth, fine-grained skin was
decidedly black.

Jim Crow, by the way, was not Jim
Crow, save by the grace of a woman's
whim— mine, to be exact. He was Wil-
liam Jones, or had been until my eye fell
upon him, when I instantly hailed him as
my little "Jim Crow," a name which his
mother, our cook, soon adopted; the
neighborhood followed suit, and he him-

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

self seemed to regard it as an honorary
title to be proud of.

He was as pretty as a little eupid. He
had all the malicious mischievousness of
a monkey old in sin, allied to the bound-
less love of life of a young puppy. He
could sing, he could dance, he could climb,
turn somersaults, stand on his woolly
head, and did a surprising amount of his
walking upon his hands, with heels in air.

The house we lived in belonged to an
uncle who had formerly been the mayor
of New York, this fact being proved by
the presence of two extra lamps before the
front door, gas being the medium through
which that city honors its chief officer.
These very large lamps in their tall stan-
dards, and the broa^l stone steps they
flanked, were immediately turned by my
little Jim Crow into a sort of private gym-
nasium.

My husband, like every one else, was
fond of this tiny black man, but he never
gave his entire approval to this gymna-
sium business. He did not mind, for him-
self; his conscience was clear and his

■*■>■■. I,.- ^-

orary

ss of
ound-
He

limb,

coolly

>f his

a air.

to an

layor

'd bv

•ethe

ough

3ficei*.

scan-

they

' my

?ym-

was
ever
ana-
lim-

his

LITTLE ''JIM CROW* 8

nerves steady; but some of our friends
had nerves that were not always under
perfect control. These people were apt
to feel a sort of knee-loosening shock at
being suddenly addressed by a person
hanging upside down somewhere over
their heads. :

With his toes inside the lamp, his head
hanging down, and his arms all abroad,
Jim Crow looked like some strange foreign
fruit which had failed to ripen.

One poor lady was brought to the point
of smelling-salts, wine, and much fanning,
through seeing, as she declared, "a very
small person coming down your steps, my
dear, who had no head ! "—Jim Crow in
the dusk having been practising walking
on his hands.

All the marked characteristics of his
strange race could be learned from this
small black volume. Here was the love
of music, dance, and color, the boastful-
ness, the intense devotion to special mem-
bers of the white race, the easy, graceful
romancing, the warm-hearted generosity,
with the occasional gleams of treachery,

'vTT

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

all cropping out in this tiny black man of
five years.

Both his mother and sister were in our
employ, and between them Jim Crow re-
ceived "more kicks than ha'pence," and
more cuffs than kisses.

Injustice sometimes stirred him to re-
venge, and then— I think I have said he
was generous, but never, never did he
show such cheerfully boundless generosity
as when he was "giving away" his
mother and his sister. The methods of
his betrayals were amusing in the ex-
treme, since he invariably set them to
music. Usually he sang his ac usations
to the tune of an old Methodist hymn.

On one occasion, a large, imposing
chicken-pie had been built and furnished
forth on Monday, and on Tuesday my lord
and master desired its presence, that he
might make an assault upon it.

But there was no chicken-pie !

"Why? What? What has become of
it?" was the next inquiry.
, " The rats ate it, sir ! "

We shuddered. What awful rats!

lan of

In our
>w re-
I" and

|to re-
id he
id he
rosity
' his
ds of
e ex-
m to

itions
n.

osing
ished
'' lord
it he

le of

ats !

LITTLE "JIM CROW" 6

What size, what ferocity ! To be able to
demolish such a structure, and in one
night !

Two days later my mother had occasion
to press out some lace for me, and Jim
Crow at once placed himself by the iron-
ing-board. He stood upon one bare foot,
and tenderly stroked his shin with the
pale sole of the other foot, now and then
pausing a moment to scratch the calf of
his leg with a slow and thoughtful toe;
and while doing this he sang in his sweet
child's voice these words, to the tune of
" Old Hundred " :

" Rats, rats, rats, rats, rats, rats !
Little rats, big rats, bigger rats I
Some more-ore rats ! "

The continued repetition of that one
word attracted her attention, as it was in-
tended to do, and the moment her eyes
met his maliciously sparkling ones there
flashed into her mind the memory of cer-
tain cries and lamentations which had
issued from the basement that very morn-

LITTLE "JIM CROW'

ing, and she understood that this was to
be revenge ; in fact, Jim Crow was chant-
ing his war-song :

" — i*ats, rats, rats !
Sometimes rats eat things ;
Sometimes they don^t ! "

A quick, angiy voice from the next

room suddenly cried:

" You Jim Crow, come in yere ! "

But Jim Crow sang s^.^'eetly though

somewhat hurriedly on :

" Eats eats some chicken-pies, not ours.'^

Voice: "Jim Crow, are yer coming?"
" Rats did n*t eat our chicken-pie ! "

A large brown hand was thrust through
the doorway ; it grasped Jim Crow by the
back of his wee shirt and dragged him out
of the room backward; but even as he
made that unwilling and ignominious exit,
he shouted loud and clear his last line :

" Naygars eat dat pie ! Naygars eat it all I "

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

Shortly after the pie episode I found
Jim Crow holding in his arms some small
object upon which he lavished the tender-
est terms of endearment. As soon as he
saw me he gave the three standing jumps
and the whoop which were his usual morn-
ing gi'eeting, then exclaimed :

" Now, den, honey, stan' on yo' foots, an'
show yersel' to MiSS Cla'h ! "

"Honey" obeyed. It seemed like a
sneer at misery to call the creature a
kitten. As it wavered toward me on its
weak little legs, and piteously raised its
one green and only eye to my face, I felt
the tears coming. In the scheme of its
structure fur had not been considered an
important item, and flesh had not been
considered at all; but the amount of tail
used in the make-up of that one small slip
of a cat was something wonderful. I took
up the little scrap of metropolitan misery,
and a vibration in its skinny throat told
me it was trying to purr, but was literally
too weak to make a sound; though when
I obtained some warm milk for it, its sav-
age hunger forced it to clamber into the

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

dish, where it stood ankle-deep in the
strength-giving fluid.

While pussy was engaged in the milk-
storage business, Jim Crow conversed
pleasantly on the peculiarities of cats in
their relations to the different races of
men, white or black. With a wise wag of
his head, he remarked :

"Miss Cla'h, dat ain't no white man's
cat."

" Why ?" I asked.

He gave me a surprised look, and an-
swered: "Hain't got eyes enuf. White
man's cat always has two eyes."

" Well," I said, " it 's a dreadfully ugly
little thing. I am sure no one wants it."

Then was Jim Crow angry. With his
brows knit and his under iip thrust out,
he had for a moment an expression as
black as his skin. But it lasted only a
moment ; then the roguish look was back,
and with his usual white-toothed smile he
exclaimed: "Miss Cla'h, don' you know
dat cat 's a niggah man's cat ! Wh-wh-
why, dat 's a lucky cat ; an', Miss Cla'h—"
He stopped to put his finger in his mouth,

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

hung his head, and worked one foot round
and round a figure in the carpet; then,
with a world of persuasion in his voice, of
entreaty in his dark eyes, he laid a little
pleading hand on my knee, and almost
whispered, "Miss Cla'h, dat little cat wiv
one eye 'u'd jist 'bout suit me to deff."

That ended it. Jim Crow had his way,
and his cat. A few days later there was
to be seen, walking slowly around the
gi'ass-plot, a very small cat which had the
appearance of having swallowed whole a
large, hard, and very round apple, so dis-
tended were her sides, so thin her frame.

I wish I could say I never, never had
cause to regret my kind act, but as a
strictly truthful woman I cannot say it.
You see, this was an ash-barrel cat,— one
should always remember that,— and she
("Misery" was her name, though Jim
Crow always called her " Mis'sy ") matured
early. Almost before we knew it. Misery
had the reputation of being able to spit
farther at one hiss, tear longer splinters
out of the fences, sing more ear-piercing
songs, and give a more soul-harrowing

T. T

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

high C than any cat on tho block, bar
none. But thoro! let 's have done with
Misery (would we could!); it 's of Jim
Crow I would speak.

When ho became a member of our
household he had a limited wardrobe and
absolutely no manners, so I proceeded to
add something to his outfit in both direc-
tions. He was bright, quick, and had a
good memory, and if he could only be
kept still long enough to absorb your
meaning he was nearly sure to remember
your lesson.

But he gave me some trying moments,
I must confess. For instance, while I
would be trying to explain to him those
laws of politeness which rule the actions
of little gentlemen, Jim Crow, with his
eyes fixed solemnly on my face, would
lean his elbows on my knees, and kick
himself in the rear with a vigor and rapid-
ity truly surprising. On one of these
occasions I told Jim Crow that he need
not do that, as doubtless through his
whole life other people would do the kick-
ing for him. This greatly amused him;

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

bar
with
Jim

lio laughcnl iiiimodemtoly, and when ho
wont down-stairs ho told his niothor that
" Miss Cla'h said that ho was to do nutt'on,
and other pussons would kick holes clean
frou his life ! "

And thereupon that irascible bondwo-
man delivered her sentiments to the effect
that : " Law sakes ! She wished dey 'u'd
begin right away! That she 'd like to
kick him full o' holes herseP, beca'so o' that
ornery, no-account, one-eyed cat o' hisn,"
etc.

It was not long before Jim Crow com-
prehended that certain benefits followed
in the train of good manners. First of
all, there was the keen delight of bowing
deeply and gracefully to his own reflection
in the basement windows. Then there
was the charm of hearing his own voice
declaiming loudly all his manners in one
breath, if his lungs permitted it, thus:
" Yes, sir ; no, sir ; yes, 'um ; no, mum ; if
you please ; thank yer ; howdy do ? good-
by; can I 'sist you? is there anythin' I
can do?" Then there were the admir-
ing exclamations, not unaccompanied by

lii

I':

(■ .■

i •

:i)

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

nickels, of ladies who were charmed by
his deep bow and the graceful sweep of
his little arm as he removed the crown of
his hat before them. There were no brims
to Jim Crow's hats, and I feel sure that
had there been brims, then there would
have been no crowns.

I also led Jim Crow a short, a very-
short, distance along the paths of educa-
tion. He could count up to six with tem-
perate calmness, but beyond that point
his figuring was directed by an absolutely
tropical imagination; while his joyous
greeting of A, B, C, and D was in marked
contrast to his doubtful acknowledgment
of E and his absolute non-recognition
of F.

Only a modicum of his time was spent
in pursuit of education and manners;
the other part he gave to a search for
some new way of almost breaking his
neck.

What was left of his day had many
claims upon it. Misery had to be fed
often and to be talked to. Everything I
tried to teach Jim Crow up-stairs he tried

namLr gifrj!^;

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

to teach his cat down-stairs. Then he
had to romance a good deal about Misery
to the neighboring servants, that they
might be brought to appreciate all her
remarkable qualities as a lucky cat.

Besides all this, he had to exercise that
faculty which he had inherited from un-
countable ancestors— the faculty of sleep.
If his growii-up sister slept with all the
stops open, leaning against any largish
piece of furniture that came handy, and
his mother— I have seen her standing
before a chopping-bowl, taking a refresh-
ing nap, with her hand still holding the
raised knife. When she awoke the knife
descended; operations were resumed.
There was no yawning, no rubbing of
eyes; she had been asleep, she was now
awake, that 's all, and— "What of it?"
Oh, nothing, Maria, nothing! I am only
saying, now, that if the grown-up women
required this refreshment, how much
greater was the need of Jim Crow, who
was burdened with the additional duty of
having to grow a little bit each day,
unless he wished to become a freak.

LITTLE <'JIM CROW"

$■
*

\ I

Therefore it was not surprising to find
him in the somewhat ridgy embrace of
the willow clothes-basket, or lying across
the flagged walk, with his head pillowed
on the grass-plot, or sitting upon an over-
turned horse-bucket, with his head against
the stable door, and his face lifted up full
to God's great search-light, the sun, whose
fierce rays brought out no stain of sin,
no vestige of vice, upon the black little
countenance, innocent, as yet, as any
white baby's in the land.

In the winter Jim Crow's favorite place
of retirement from carking cares was un-
der the kitchen table, well back against
the wall, where his fingers and toes were
safe from the far-reaching " tromp " of the
African feet about him.

With his head painfully close to the
nearly red-hot range, his feet in the direct
and icy draft of an outer door, he would
sleep happy and comfortable. Indeed, he
found himself so comfortable that he often
remained there some time after he had
awakened, on which occasions he was very
apt to interject certain remarks into such

LITTLE ''JIM CROW

conversation as was going on; and, odd
as it may seem, these remarks were rarely
received with approbation by his hearers.
For instance, a visitor said, one day, to
his mother:

"Sis' Jones, whatever yo' gwine to do
wiv dat yere boy o' yourn 1 "

To which Maria,, utterly oblivious of
Jim Crow's presence, excitedly replied :

"Yo' ast me dat. Sis' Jackson? Yo'
bettah ast me w'at he 's gwine to do wiv
me. He 's dat obstrep'rous I 'se clean
frustrated wiv him. I 'se made him a
subjeck of prayer, I has; yaas, 'm; I 'se
been down on my old knees, and prayed
and prayed—"

Then came an emphatic young voice
from under the table, saying:

"Why, Mee-ri er, jo^ hain't prayed on
yo' knees since bef o' I was born ! "

However, much as these happenings
might amuse us up-stairs, they certainly
did not endear him to his own people down-
stairs, and time and again I had to fling
the shield of my authority above little
Jim Crow's head to save him from the

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

vengeful wrath of his buff and sullen
sister. His mother was not to be feared.
True, she " barked " loudly and often ; but
her "bite" was rare and exceeding mild,
for you see she was his mother, even
though he had never called her so. To
him she was Maria, only he had the
queerest way of saying it. He pro-
nounced the name in three distinct syl-
lables, drawling each one out, and
making an absolute pause between the
second and third, something like this:
" Mee-ri er."

Poor old brown-black mother! w]io
"never had no time down in Richmon',
honey, to teach chilluns to say *muver,'
but was called by 'em jus' plain ^ Maria.'"

Of all Jim Crow's long, long busy day,
the dearest, sweetest moments were those
he spent with the white children of the
neighborhood. They were all the cliildren
of the rich or well-to-do, and the love and
admiration for them that filled his honest
little heart was something to wonder at.
He would watch so longingly for them to
come from school, and as they appeared

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

iveiV

ia.' "

^^y,

fca

hose

the -^

^■'^

iren

and

■)

aest

at.

I to

red

■?

he would hug himself and stamp and
shout with joy. Then he would rush out
and turn a somersault before them, after
which he would draw back to the side-
walk's edge, put his finger to his mouth,
and smile deprecatingly at them. If they
laughed, that was enough; he leaped,
danced, sang, and wore himseK completely
out for their amusement.

Sometimes the boys would play a bit
with him, when the child's joy was simply
boundless. If one of them chanced to get
dust or mud on his garment, Jim Crow
would fly to the rescue, and with his
quick and willing little hands rub away
every vestige of soil, and then hug him-
self and laugh.

It was in December that I noticed a
growing dullness or sadness on Jim Crow's
part, and at about the same time I ob-
served the absence of the usual noisy after-
noon group of youngsters in front of the
house. A few days after this, on return-
ing from my drive, I was shocked to see
crouched upon my door-step, shivering
like a little homeless cur, my Jim Crow,

LITTLE ''JIM CROW"

\y. I

I *

his woolly head bent down upon his knees,
and all his little body shaken and strained
by convulsive sobs. I lifted him, and led
him, blindly stumbling as he walked, into
the extension at the back of the dining-
room, that we might be quite alone, and,
taking off my cloak and hat, I began to
question him.

Was he sick? A shake of his heavily
drooping head was his only answer. Had
his sister hurt him? Had his mother
punished him ? Still that vehement shake
of the head, and still those dreadful sobs.
At last I cried : " It 's Misery ! Jim Crow,
have you lost Misery ? "

This time for answer he impatiently
raised one hand and pointed through the
window. I turned my head and looked,
and there stood Misery on the fence, and
her arched back and distended tail told
me quite plainly she was well and about
to try some new music.

What was I to do? The little fellow
had fallen forward on my knee, and his
grief was pitiful. For one moment North-
ern shrinking from the unaccustomed
contact held me back, and then the

?iS

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

5 knees,
trained
and led
3d, into
dining-
©, and,
gan to

leavily
Had
nother
shake
I sobs.
Crow,

iently
:h the
►oked,
>, and
told
ibout

3II0W
i his
)rth-
med
the

■i:

woman's pity for a grieving child con-
quered. He was but a baby, and I took
him in my arms and let him hide his tear-
stained, sodden little face upon my breast ;
and when I coaxed him once again to tell
me what was the matter, he raised his
poor drowned eyes one moment to my
face, and gasped: "Oh, Miss Cla'h, dey,
my little white cuzzens, won't speak to me
any more!" then hid his face again in
shame and sorrow. Oh, poor black baby !
I had a hysterical desire to laugh at the
queer degree of relationship he had claimed
with the white children ; yet, in spite of
that desire, I saw two great tears shining
on the woolly head upon my breast, and
knew I must have shed them.

Oh, Jim Crow ! Poor little man ! The
gall and wormwood that are ever mixed
in black blood had risen that day for the
first time to his child's lips, and he had
tasted the bitterness thereof! The cruel
lash of race had fallen for the first time
across his baby shoulders, and the pain
was the deeper because children's hands
had given the blow !

Hitherto it had been an easy matter to

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

dispel Jim Crow's troubles. A kind word
or two, a penny, a promise of a ride around
to the stable on the coachman's box— all
these had proved successful in the past;
while for a whipping, a real old-fashioned
warming, I had found nothing so sooth-
ing, so strengthening and sustaining, as a
large piece of butter-scotch.

But now, alas! all these offers were
rejected. I talked long and earnestly to
him, telling him the white children cared
for him as much as ever, only it was
almost time for Santa Claus to come, and
they could think of nothing else just now.
" By and by they '11—" But no ; it would
not do. One well-dressed little savage
had struck Jim Crow aside with rough
words, and called him a name which,
when applied in anger or contempt, will
cut to the very heart of any black man or
woman in the world, and rankle there
worse than any word of contempt or
abuse in the English language— the name
" Nigger."

I sat for a little, helpless ; then I had a
veritable inspiration.

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

" Jim Crow," I cried, " listen ! No, no ;
it 's not about the children; it 's some
thing else. I want to ask you something.
Jim Crow, how big must a boy be to have
a pair of long, red-topped boots ? "

Like a flash came his answer :

" As big as me ! "

At last victory perched on my banner.
I had won his attention. At that very
moment Misery began the first wailing
notes of a duet with a friend in dark
gray, who sat in the coal-box next door,
and Jim Crow, rubbing his tearful eyes
with his knuckles, proudly sighed :

" Mis'sy can yowl the loudest ; can't she,
MissCla'h?"

Needless to say, I agreed with him. I
should have done so anyway; but really
and truly Misery could out-yowl not only
her young friend in gray and the old gen-
tleman in rusty black,— who seemed
to have charge of the church across the
street, since he came from its basement
every week-day in a dusty condition, and
washed himself habitually on its lower
steps," but she could and did quite sing

LITTLE "JIM CROW

down the only basso in the block, a red-
haired party, through whose sensitive
whiskers many a wintry blast had blown,
whose torn and jagged ears and fiercely
rounded yellow eyes betrayed more of his
real nature than he could have wished.

So you see her master really had some
grounds for his pride in Misery. Some-
times I thought he might be right in
calling her a lucky cat. She had, you
know, but one eye, and yet her power of
watchfulness seemed double that of other
ladies of her race. Her ability to dodge
rapidly moving objects was remarkable,
particularly when bodies were torn from
their natural orbits, so to speak, and came
hurtUng through the air. On one occa-
sion, very late at night, she was entertain-
ing a friend on the veranda steps ; perhaps
she was a trifle noisy about it. At any
id/ie, a third-story neighbor hurled a great
common soap-dish at Misery's head; and
she, feeling that her friend could see this
danger with two eyes as well as she could
see it with one eye, said nothing, but
calmly leaped aside, and let the dish go

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

whack into the visitor's ribs! Many
things were broken that night: a com-
mandment, the soap-dish, a friendship,
and three ribs.

I had encouraged Jim Crow to speak as
much as he would of Misery's virtues and
talents. She had fewer of the first than
the last, I fear. The conversation was
beginning to lag when that occurred
which put an end to it. The duet was in-
terrupted by the swift passing of about
three fourths of a large arctic overshoe.
Even here Misery showed her superior
nerve; for while her friend in the gray
suit sprang wildly into an abandoned
wash-boiler for protection. Misery, with
truly French aplomb, held her position
on the fence- top, spitting at all hands with
an energy that bordered on ferocity.

I saw Jim Crow's mind was returning
to his trouble, so I hastily brought the
boot question forward again. Once more
I caught his attention, and we proceeded
to discuss most thoroughly the question
of dress.

I am afraid I did not understand him as

LITTtE "JIM CUOW"

well as usual, for his excited and minute
description of what he most admired in
clothing left the impression on my mind
thnt he desired greatly a suit composed
entirely of buttons.

Our interview finally ended in a double-
barreled promise. One barrel was Jim
Crow's vow not to make any advance
whatever to the white children, but to
answer nicely should they speak to him
first. In return, I promised to buy on the
very next day a suit of clothes for Jim
Crow, allowing him to select his own store
and his own suit. This being settled,
the little fellow slipped from my lap,
made me his profound bow, and left the
room. In a moment I heard him whizz
down the banisters on the way to the
kitchen.

Next forenoon I sallied foi ili, one hand
holding a pocket-book, the other leading
a little black imp, whose gleaming teeth,
flashing eyes, and roguish face caused
every one to smile who looked at him;
and many turned to look again.

Once he released my hand, and for a

-^.

LITTLE ''JIM

moment disappeared behind mo^ nmj^
most directly ho was back, holding ^vr>^
fingers tightly, and dancing along the ^^^^f}^*
pavement at my side. It was very shortly
after this that I noticed a decided broaden-
ing in the smiles we met, and then, yeS;
the smiles became laughter behind us.
What was it? I glanced at my reflection
in the windows. My attire seemed all
right ; nothing coming off, nothing stick-
ing to me. No; it was Jim Crow they
were laughing at ; but why f

Suddenly I asked him to run ahead a
few steps, and then I saw— I saw a great
tear in the seat of his tiny trousers, and
through this tear there jubilantly waved
upon the chilly air a— snow-white flag of
truce.

With burning cheeks I shunted Jim
Crow into a side street, exclaiming, " Oh,
Jim Crow ! why did n't your sister mend
your trousers before you came out % "

" She did mend 'em wiv a pin, but de
pin stick-ed me so, I pulled it out a ways
back ! " answered my small friend. Then,
seeing me still vexed, he added affably :

111

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

"It don' hurt now, Miss Cla'h, and de
wind ain't col' a bit."

Having sought and found the privacy
of some one's hallway, I knelt down and
mended the smallest pair of trousers I ever
saw with the very biggest safety-pin I ever
happened to own. Never mind; the flag
of truce was withdrawn from the gaze of
a startled people, and Jim Crow's little
carcass was not " stick-ed."

So once more we put on a brave fiont
and faced the avenue. I was not very
strong in those days, and could not walk
far, so I had three several times attempted
to enter clothing-stores we were passing-
big, well- stocked places, too; but, "No,
no, no ! " Jim Crow cried, dragging me
violently away; he wanted to go to the
" big glass stor'."

"But," said I, "they do not sell clothes
at a glass-store."

" Yes, Miss Cla'h, they does ; more clo's
than eber you saw day sells. Oh, please,
please ! It ain't far now, shur'ly, shur'ly,
not far now, Miss Cla'h ! ^'

So wearily I walked on, till at Twenty-

^'H

LITTLE ''JIM CROV/"

d de

ever
ever
flag
e of
Pittle

third Street, when I was ready to faint
from fatigue, he suddenly let go my hand
that he might hug himself, and then,
pointing across the street to the Grand
Opera House, he shouted :

"Dar she is. Miss Cla'h; dar 's de big
glass stor'. I guess I git buttons dar ! "

Sure enough, the ground floor of the
great building was then occupied by a
clothing firm, and the marble, the gilding,
and the enormous show-windows had won
from Jim Crow enthusiastic admiration
and the title of the " glass store."

When we went in there were several
ladies at different counters examining
children's garments, but they soon left
their own shopping to assist at Jim Crow's.
For he it was who gave the orders, and his
lordly and pompous manner, taken in con-
junction with his infinitesimal size, was
really very funny.

One salesman had waited upon him at
first, but presently two were busy trying
to meet his demands without strangling
with laughter. I had fallen into the first
seat that presented itself, and having told

1 !

■ I

) 1

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

the clerk that I would be responsible for
anything the child selected, I had, as it
were, turned Jim Crow loose in the great
store ; and he was running things to suit
Itimself, while I tried to get a little rest,
and offered up a humble prayer that the
safety-pin might not belie its name.

But somehow things did not go right.
Those two salesmen brought forth clothing
enough for a small regiment of boys, but
nothing suited Jim Crow. His contemp-
tuous remarks convulsed his hearers, but
he paid no heed to bystanders. At last
there seemed cause for hope. A little blue
suit with a great quantity of white braid
and stitching seemed for a moment to
please him; but when it was opened out
he suddenly swept it aside with his arm,
and casting dignity to the winds, he ran
to me anJ buried his disappointed little
face in my dress.

"What is it, Jim Crow?" I asked.
" Can't you find what you want?"

He shook his head, and then, turning
his flashing, tearful eyes upon the sales-

man, he exclaimed :

^■4

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

* 29

" Ain*t you got no buttons in all dis big
stor'!"

Then a third salesman came up, and
murmured something to the others about
" suit, a model ; not successful, too showy,"
etc., and they nodded their heads and went
smilingly away, and presently returned
with a small suit in which the cloth
seemed to serve simply as a necessary
foundation on which to sew brass buttons.

Jim Crow looked, and the next instant,
in spite of my restraining touch, he was
walking swiftly down the store on his
hands to meet them.

He hugged himself, he hugged the
clothes, and was desperately determined
to put them on then and there. At last I
got them away from him long enough to
have them and the accompanying cap done
up. But no sending of that package home.
"No, no, no!'^ Ho would carry it. Oh,
he must ! He must !

As we turned to go one of the salesmen
attempted to open the door for me; but
with a frowning face Jim Crow swept him
aside, and laying his bundle on the floor,

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

he stood on tiptoe and opened the door
himself, using both little hands to do it ;
then, taking off the crown of his hat, he
bowed me out, bowed to the ladies, took up
his bundle, and danced to my side; and
so, amid laughter from the men, and such
exclamations from the ladies as "How
lovely ! " " Oh, what a cunning little
fellow ! " we made our homeward start.

I think we left an unbroken wake of
smiles behind us as we moved. Once,
however, Jim Crow found himself stirred
to wrath. A great big white boy of about
twelve years, I should say, laughed jeer-
ingly at him, and cried loudly :

"Sa-ay, bundle, where yer goin' with
that kid?"

Jim Crow stopped stock-still, and liter-
ally glared at the boy for a moment, while
I felt his hand tremble in mine. Then he
resumed his walk at my side in frowning
silence.

We were nearly home before he spoke ;
then, giving a great sigh, he said, looking
up brightly into my face :

"I 'se gwine to know aat trash boy

> ■ :

LITTLE '<JIM CROW"

when I sees him ag'in, I is." (Here came
another and a bigger sigh— one of evident
satisfaction.) "Yaas, Miss Cla'h; I 'se
gwine to lick dat boy clear into frazzles."

" Why, Jim Crow ! What for ! " I cried,
while my mind's eye saw a picture of a
sparrow fighting a turkey-cock.

"What foh?" echoed the mite; then,
drawing himself up and throwing back
his shoulders, he continued: "What fohl
Why, foh 'sultin' me when I 'se walkin'
wiv a lady."

I had, of course, nothing more to offer,
and, as frequently happened during our
acquaintance, Jim Crow had the last word.

As I went up the front steps, he hurled
himself down the basement-way, and be-
fore the front door closed upon me, I heard
a Comanche-like yell, followed by the oft-
repeated word, "Boots! boots! boots!"
and knew that my lord and master had
added the final drop to Jim Crow's surely
overflowing cup of bliss.

Presently he stood shyly before me,
finger to lip, but with his happy, dancing
eyes watching for the effect his finery

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

would have upon me. And how pretty
the little scamp looked I The suit that
had been too showy for a white child be-
came him perfectly. Yes ; from long, big
man's boots, blue cloth, gold cord, and
innumerable buttons, to the cap, worn
hind- side before " because it f'^lt just like
ole hat that-a-way," all was charming.

After he had been duly admired, he
failed to make his bow and retire, as I had
expected him to do. Instead, he lingered
shamefacedly. Evidently something was
wrong. I noticed, too, that he was trem-
bling. " Too much excitement," thought I.
" He will be sick if I am not careful " ; so
I said to him :

" Jim Crow, you 've had no nap to-day.
Had you not better lie down now, and
sleep a little ! " .

" Dars n't," was his instant answer.

" Dare not ? " I cried. " Why, what do
you mean ? "

He hesitated a moment ; then, grasping
my skirts with both hands, as he always
did when in trouble, he cried almost
wildly:

LITTLE ''JIM CROW"

" Dey wants to take 'em off, Miss Cla'h !
You won't let 'em, will you, Miss Cla'hl
You won't let 'em ? "

" But, my dear," I said, " you must take
them off sometimes, you know."

His voice rose to a positive shriek:
" No ; oh, please, please, no ! If I take 'em
off w'ile dey 's new, sister '11 carry 'em off
and sell 'em, every one ! "

Poor little man! Not five yea^i old,
and such sad knowledge gleaned already
from the great field of life! I took his
hand and led him down-staircJ, where, in
his presence, I requested his mother and
sister to leave him in peace, that he might
enjoy his outfit in his own way.

His faith in the honor of his family was
not of a robust nature, for at eight o'clock
he entreated " Mee-ri er " to let him go to
bed by his "loneself. No; he was not
afeard. No ; he did n't wan' no light ; he
could see from the hall. No, no, no ! he
did n't want sister to put him to bed." So
for the first time he clambered alone up
those four long flights of stairs, and put
his " loneself " to bed.

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

At 11 P.M., hearing laughter from the
upper rooms, and fearing some one might
be teasing the child, I went up. The light
had been turned on full, and there, with
Misery sleeping by his side, lay Jim Crow.
One little hand rested on Misery's neck ; the
other— ah ! but it was sad to see— the other
rested close to his throat, where it tightly
clutched the fastening of his jacket. Yes,
his jacket ; for his sister at that moment
roughly stripped the bedclothes down.
He was in bed completely clothed, literally
from top to toe ; for not only had he his
boots on, but, having absolutely no faith
in his family, he had for further safety
tied his cap on with a piece of twine.

'T was well I was there when the un-
dressing took place, for I really believe
the child would have had a fit, so great
was his passion and his terror. I finally
calmed him down by placing every article,
boots and all, under his pillow, he smil-
ingly declaring: "De humps dey cause
make me feel good, 'ca'se I know den dey
is dar."

I had been mildly reproved by one of

^i ^

Hnwiirf i iin i r i Jn a fll'S^

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

my family for giving so lavishly to Jim
Crow when Christmas was so near, and
asked why I did not wait till then? As
far as giving a reason went, I had no
reason to give; only that "something"
that so often says to me " Do ! " or " Do
not do ! " and which I have so often and
so recklessly ignored to my sorrow, had
this time been listened to, and to this day
I am grateful to that " something " because
it kept murmuring to me, " If you are go-
ing to do anything for Jim Crow, perhaps
you had better do it now. Why wait ? "

I would not wait; I would do it now!
And I pa^t my own back (as far as I can
reach) in self-approval that, in spite of
common sense and excellent reasons, I
obeyed " something."

Gross neglect of duty on the part of the
sullen buff sister had often been overlooked
for Jim Crow's sake, and she pre sumed on
that to add impertinence to her score ; but
one day too much liquor and a narrowly
averted conflagiation caused the dismissal
of them all. The head of the house, hav-
ing in alarmed anger given this order, left

•^ •

LITTLE "JIM CliOV/"

the city for the night on business, or
things might have ended differently.

So when darkness came there issued
from the basement door the red-brown
brother carrying bundles ; he was followed
by the buff bane of the family, the sulky
sister, carrying more bundles; and fol-
lowing her was Maria, the mother, weary,
angry, and full of foreboding for their
future; she carried yet another bundle.

But Jim Crow never moved a step. He
stood in the center of the room, clutching
firmly the edge of the large table. His
lips were tightly pressed together, and his
eyes were dull and heavy.

Maria called loudly for him to "come
along yere ! "

He never moved. She came back, and,
looking through the window, motioned tor
him to come. He never moved. Then
the angiy woman tossed her bundle to
one of the others, and rushed back. As
she entered, the little fellow lifted fright-
ened eyes, and said in deprecating tones :

" Let 's wait, Mee-ri er ; per'aps de boss
may cum right in now, an' tell me I can't
go!"

MMiai'iinwniHn

mmmmim

LITTLE "JIM CROW"

I, or

sued

" He 's top us all to go ! " snapped Maria.

" Not me ! " said Jim Crow. " I 'se al-
ways stood by de boss, an' now ^ " '^ gwino
to stall' by me. I guess I knov, i Oh,
Mee-ri er, Mee-ri er ! don't —don't ! "

Two sharp, quick, agonized cries broke
from his grayish lips as Maria forced his
little hands from their hold upon the table ;
then she gathered him up in her fierce,
strong arms, and so went out of the base-
ment door with this— their last bundle.

Those two piercing, all-abandoning cries
had reached even to the floor above.

" What 's that ? " I cried, and running to
the parlor window, I caught a glimpse of
a shadowy figure with a child over its
shoulder. As they moved from me, for
one chill moment the light fell full upon
two straining, upraised eyes, and two
piteous, pale little palms held vainly out
to those five stories of stony silence ; and
then a great wave of inky darkness swept
over them, and carried ):rom me and mine,
far out on the briny, bitter ocean of life,
my little Jim Crow.

■^

SSESSBSa

Kmsmmmmmmai

MY PIRATE

KHHBiBMI

■Mk^'^ai

MY PIRATE

IS name was Ezra Martin, and
undoubtedly he was a pirate.
When he was away, and I
thought of him suddenly, little
cold creepies went all up and down my
back, and when he came home and held
out his hand to me, something jumped
quick right up from my side into my
throat, and choked me— he frightened me
so lovely, ever so much better than ghost-
stories.

The strange thing was that in that
house full of grown-ups no one else
seemed to know that he was a pirate. Of
course, at that time he was an engineer on
the Lake Shore Eoad, but he had been a
sailor, and had sailed clear round the whole
world, and had crossed somebody's line,
and doubled capes, and had killed whales
that have corset-bones and lamp-oil in

MY PIRATE

SSl

them, and thrown harpoons, and dragged
anchors, and had seen monkeys without
hand- organs, and parrots that knew no-
thing about crackers, flying about wild in
real woods. And he was swarthy dark,
with black hair and black, black little eyes,
that always had a tiny red spark in them.
And he wore gold ear-rings! Pirates al-
ways do that— always! And his beard?
Oh, Captain Kidd, in my picture-book,
had quite a common, honest-looking beard,
compared to Ezra's great, bushy, wiched-
looking one. And he had a long scar
across his forehead, and he never wore a
white shirt or an overcoat. He always
wore dark-blue clothes. His trousers
were very tight at the knee and very wide
at the top, and he seemed to have a lot
of trouble to keep them from falling off,
'cause he was hitching them up nearly
every time he moved. He wore blue-
flannel shirts, and in winter a ihing he
called a " pilot- jacket." And he carried a
big knife in a leather sheath, and the knife
had spots on the blade— ugh !
Of course he was very brave,— pirates

MY PIRATE

igged
fchout
7 Ho-
ld in
dark,
eyes,
hem.
s al-
ard?
)ook,
Jard,
'ked-
scar
\>re a
ways
isers
wide
I lot
off,
arly
►lue-
r he
3d a
nife

xtes

hi- e to be, —but anyway I heard one of
the boarders say "Ezra was the bravest
man he ever saw, because he dared to call
the landlady mother right to her very face."
She was n't his mother ; she was n't any-
body's mother— which was a good thing
for somebody. She had just married old
Mr. Martin, and he died very soon ; then,
when she was Ezra's stepmother, Ezra
turned pirate.

I was afraid of her. I slept in a
trundle-bed in her room, and she came
apart so. She put her hair on the bed-
post, and her teeth in a glass. I always
covered up my head then, for fear she
might do something to her eyes— lay
them on the mantelpiece, perhaps, which
would have scared me to death! Ezra
told me not to be afraid of her when she
raved and scolded so. He said she was all
right, only I must n't rub her the wrong
way; and when, on my word of honor, I
assured him I had never, never rubbed her
apy way at all, he roared with laughter,
and slapped his leg, and "shivered his
tim!)ers," as pirates always do.

'■ f

i<\ I

MY PIRATE

But besides being an engineer and
pirate, he was a living picture-gallery.
Yes, just that. Every other Sunday he
was my panorama. He would turn slowly
about, showing me all the lovely pictures
prickled on his chest and shoulders and
back and arms, in blue and red and green
inks. And he 'd explain himself as he
turned. And we were so sorry, both of us,
that he could n't show me a lovely pair of
turtles he had on his legs, but his trousers
were too tight at the knee, and that was
just where they were.

The first time he held out his big hand
to me, and I saw a great, scaly dragon on
it blowing red venom up his sleeve, I knew
he was a pirate; not because of the ink, —
lots of people wear dots and stars and
things,— but because of the dragon. My
pirate was lovely up his back, particularly
where the lady with the tiny waist and
flounced skirt waved the flag on his left
shoulder. She was a blue lady, and the
flag was red and blue. And under that—
"to balance the lady,'^ he said— was a
coiled- up snake that made me rather sick,

■1

MY PIRATE

which was silly, of course ; but it had such
a surprising amount of forked tongue, and
really, you don't know how snaky it looked.
I liked better the big eagle on his right
shoulder^ which Ezra said was "a noble
old bird."

Though he was such an interesting man,
my pirate spoke very little to the grown-
ups. Indeed, with one exception, he was
the most silent person I ever knew. I
make the exception in favor of a young
friend who was born dumb. And I was
very proud when he would draw me to his
knee, and teach me to tell time by his big
gold watch, though, at the same moment,
fright at being so near the sheath-knife
sent goose-flesh all over my arms. When
he gave me those lessons, he always sat
on the edge of the wood-box behind the
stove in the sitting-room. He never sat
on a chair, if he could help it, except at
table. He always seemed most comfortable
and most cheerful when he sat on some-
thing with a very sharp edge. When he
was away I tried to sit on the same
things, but they brought tears to my eyes.

MY PIRATE

P j

I- ■(

nil [':

On the porch, he always sat on the railing ;
in the sitting-room, on the edgo of the
wood-box ; in the kitchen, he was so happy
if he could find a full wash-tub, for that
gave him such a nice, sharp edge to sit on,
and then he would always talk to me.
All his best stories he tola me from that
tub, and one ugly one about the unnatural
cat they had on the ship he used to sail
on. I had said, "I did not know sailors
had pet cats on board," and he said : " There
was but one cat, but it was quite enough,
and I would hardly like to call it a pet,
even though it was more popular with
the officers than with the men." I asked
if it was a pretty cat, and he pulled his
big beard hard and said: "Well, no; he
was strong and remarkably well made,
but I would not care to call a cat-o'-nine-
tails a pretty creature."

Of course I cried out that a cat could
not have nine tails ; but he said their cat
had— that he had seen them with his own
eyes; and he added, after a little pause,
" I came mighty near feeling them, too."

"Would he have scratched you?" I
asked.

MY PIRATE

And Ezra said : " Scratched ? Would he
have scratched me, child ! He would have
cut the skin from my body! But there,
don't look so frightened. There are very
few of those cats left now; the race is
almost gone."

I began to pick up some of his words,
from talking with him so much, and one
day he was so tired he fell asleep, and by
and by I called: "Mr. Ezra, wake up,
please ; all hands have been piped down to
supper." And after that he always called
me " Mate."

That made me very happy; but one
thing worried me all the time: I wanted
him to understand that I knew he was a
pirate, and that that dreadful fact made
no difference in my affection for him ; but
whenever I 'd try to give him a hint I 'd
get frightened and stop.

He taught me, too, how to tie a hang-
man's knot, a sailor's knot, and to make
figures ; and at last, one day when I was
lonely, and had tied my apron-strings into
a hangman's knot, and had had my hands
slapped for doing it, unhappiness made

MY PIRATE

U 'i^

me bold, and when my pirate came, I
looked right into his glittery eye and
asked : " If you please, how did you use to
make people * wvlk the plank ' ! "

Of course he understood then that I
knew his secret. His hand went up to liis
beard, he looked at me a moment, then he
stooped down and brushed off his trouser's
leg, and his shoulders shook, and I saw
that he was frightened ; so I got quite close
to him, and put my hand in his, and after
a minute he said - " Well, Mate, I '11 get a
bit of board, and show you right here in
this tub of water, with that chopping-bowl
for a ship, if you '11 furnish a passenger
to drowri."

My china doll was too little and light,
he said, so I got a bottle, and filled it
with salt, and dressed it in my handker-
chief, ready to meet its awful doom ; and
then— and then that most piratical pro-
.ceeding known as "walking the plank"
was made so thrillingly plain to me that
when the plank dipped anv^ my passenger
went down into the bluing- water depths,
I gave a scream that brought out three or

MY PIRATE

four grown-ups to see what had happened
to me.

He was always kind to helpless or dis-
tressed things, yet, being a pirate, he had
to do some swearing, though it was mostly
sailor swearing, which is quite different
from just common land swearing, which,
of course, is very wicked indeed. He told
me a good deal about the first kind, one
day, while he sat on the sharp-edged barrel
with its head knocked in. He said it was
not wickedness, but necessity, made the
sailor swear— that you could n't keep the
finest ship ever built on a straight course
without swearing at her. Then he very
kindly explained the meaning of some of
their swear-words. For instance, he said :
" To call a man in anger a ' son of a sea-
cook' meant generally a few days in a
hospital for the one that did the call-
ing. To blast a man's eyes— just a plain

* Blast your eyes ! '—meant ' Don't do that
again, or I '11 lick you'; but to blast his

* tarry top-lights ' meant he was far enough
out of your reach to keep you from break-
ing every bone in his body, as you 'd like

• \

I !

!■ !

H i

MY riRATE

to do." He also romarkod that if any
sailor was ever known as "Bilgo-water
Jack, or Bill," that did n't mean that he
was the d xndy or tlio " howlin' swell " of the
ship. As to the land swears, he scanM^ly
ever used them ; and I used to think tliat
if he had suspenders, and did n't have to
hitch his trousers so much, perhaps he
would n't swear at all.

I think I said he was an engineer on
the Lake Shore Eoad then, but I did n't
say how much he cared for his engine.
lie always called it " Betsy," and he used
to say she enjoyed having her toilet
made as much as any lady would. He
was very angry, one day, v^hen one of the
firemen called her "Oi'anky 44," and I
remember he blasted the fireman's eyes,
and top-lights, and almost everything iie
had about him; for E/.ra said it was the
idiotic tomfoolery of just such lubbers
as he was that spoiled Betsy's tempei*.
" Why, Mate," he said, " when she 's just
been cleaned and polished and oiled and
properly fed, slie '11 fairly smile at you.
She 's the prettiest thing that comes out

MY PIRATE

of that roundhouse, and I suppose sho
knows it—being no fool— and wants to be
treated right. Every man on the road
knows that 44 works all right for me,
but with the others she is cranky, and
with one or two of them she '11 jerk and
plunge and rock and slide, and act like the
very devil; and one of these days she '11
smash one of 'em, you see if she don't.
Anyway, I wish those two fellows could
be kept away from her. They are more
fit for slave-drivers than engine-drivers,
with their jerking and pulling and yank-
ing right at the very start out. It takes
me days to got Betsy quieted down and
running right again— taking hold of the
rail and sweeping along smooth as satin,
swift as lightning. When she 's sane and
in her right mind she understands the re-
sponsibility we share between us ; for you
see. Matey, it 's not freight, but human
beings, we 're dragging around curves and
across trestles, and they are all trusting
us so ; and the very worst of Betsy is that
when her back 's up she don't care a—
well, she don't care where in— well, she

MY PIRATE

K'4

i, j
I

.1 '

don't care how many people she may hurt,
so long as she smashes the one person
slio 's got it in for/'

Then, one day, Mr. Ezra came in looking
awful lad. Why, he sat right down in a
chair, and stayed there for a minute or two
before he found it out, so, of course, that
showed that something bad had happened.
And Just as he was seated on the wood-
box Mrs. Martin came in, and he looked
up and said : " Well, mother, Betsy 's done
it this time. Her reputation 's gone now,
I suppose, for good. She smashed big
Tom Jones last night— both legs broken,
fireman hurt, track torn up I don't know
how many feet, and— what 's the matter
with my hand I Oh, that 's from knock-
ing over one of the boys who was already
calling Betsy * Bloody 44.' "

He felt very bad about the accident, and
for several days he scarcely spoke even
to me ; but his next Sunday was at our end
of the line, and when I came from Sunday-
school he shouted out : " Ship ahoy ! Cast
anchor. Mate, and spin us a yarn about
your cruise in church waters."

MY riKATE

And I teas glad. After a while I asked
him how Betsy was, and ho shook his head
and said: "Bad, Matey, bad! She 's
strained worse than they think she is, and
she 's as nervous as a runaway horse that
knows it 's killed its master. 8he won't
mind me yet, no matter how gentle I am,
but jumps and snorts and takes her curves,
only holding the inner rails, v/liilo her
outer wheels go whirling in the air." He
shook his head again, and sat on the edge
of the box in frowning silence. I leaned
against him, and softly turned back and
forth the gold ring in his ear. At last he
heaved a great sigh and said : " Well, what
is to be ivill be. I 'm mighty fond of
Betsy, and she may smash me, if she
wants to. But she must n't smash the men
and women behind me. No ; she must n't
expect me to back up her tantrums that
far."

Then, to change the subject to some-
thing pleasant, as he said, he showed
me how to tattoo peoi)le with India-ink
and a neeule, explained the nature and
use of a belaying-pin, and took some

MY PIRATE

i,rouble to convince me that "spankers"
were not things carried for the correction
of disobedient children. After that he told
me to " lay a straight course to the wood-
house" and he would show me how to
harpoon a whale, adding that the infor-
mation might be useful to me sometime.
Eather foolishly I said : " Why, Mr. Ezra,
there is no whale." And he scowled awfully,
and asked : " Do I look like a lubber that
asks people to a harpooniri' where there 's
nothin' to harpoon ? " And he hitched his
trousers so hard, I thought they 'd go
clear up to his shoulders, and told me to
"heave ahead," when I was so scared I
could scarcely stand.

But, lo and behold! the sitting-room
carpet, that came home from the cleaners
too late on Saturday to be put down, lay
in a great big roll out in the woodhouse,
making a lovely whale. So, with pieces of
clothes-line about our waists, tied to the
boarders' canes for harpoons, we boldly
left our big ship, entered our open boat,
and attacked the monster. My harpoon
struck 'most anything except the whale.

^■^imiiVMw

m\t iiiiylt'imi >'^«a>v«mt-i

MY PIRATE

ers''
tion
told
ood-
to
ifor-

But he said the sea was heavy, and young
whalers often had that lack. But he was
mad when I excitedly told him my oar was
caught in the beast's gills ; and he walked
right off the whale's back, and across the
blood-stained waves, and boxed my ears,
when I said the whale was "squirting"
instead of "spouting." Still, it was a
lovely, lovely day— we never guessing it
was our last. We lost two or three of our
crew, and had our boat stove in. Indeed,
few whales make so stubboi'n a fight for
life as this one did ; and he had just stopped
churning the reddened waves when our
dinner-bell rang, and, hot and happy, I
rowed back to our big ship. And as we
went to dinner Mr. Ezra promised that
on his next trip home he would show me
how pirates were said to " run down " and
"board" a rich merchantman. "Oh," I
cried, "that would be too good to come
true!"

But, alas ! my words were to come true.
I had on my clean apron, and I was watch-
ing for my pirate's return on his next trip
home, when a strange man came in, all

MY PIRATE

:(i I

ii t

torn and crumpled and dirty, with cuts on
his pale face, and his arm in a sling. And
he asked for Mrs. Martin, and he said:
"I 'm Ezra's fireman, mum, and— and— "
And then he stopped, and his ejes went
all about the walls, but would n't look at
her at all. And she sat down so hard the
windows rattled, and she said: "You 're
Ezra's fireman, you say? Then what are
you here for! What 's happened?
What 's the matter! Are you clean
dumb?"

I touched the man, and in a small voice
gasped: "Please, is it Betsy? Has she
hurt Mr. Ezra ? "

And he said: "Yes, curse her!"

And Mrs. Martin said then : " He 's dead,
I suppose ? "

But the crumpled, dirty man said:
"No, he is n't dead, but ho wishes he
was. You see, it was this way: He
would n't leave the engine. I saw what
was coming; so did he. I called, * Jump !
jump for your life, Ez!' He had one
hand on the lever ; with the other he gave
a hitch to his breeches, and he shouted :

. ■-•»-•• ■r«.mMi«m'l-\filtf,V

MY PIRATE

*Jamp and be d— d! I stand between
Betsy and the people behind ! '

'* I jumped then, and am here all right.
Ezra stood at his post and went down
in the crash. The people he saved are all
calling him hero^ but he 's as blind as a
stone. It was the steam, you know, that
did it. For God's sake, take that child to
her mother, if she 's got one ! "

Oh, it was dreadful ! Mr. Ezra lying so
still in the bed, and the room so dark,
and the mediciny smell always there.
And then, when the light was let in,
and the smell of drugs went away, I
used to creep in as stealthily as a lit-
tle cat, and watch him, and cry and cry;
and sometimes, thinking he was all alone,
he would roll his head and say: "God!
God!''

Then, one day, he heard me sniff, I sup-
pose, for he said, quick and sharp : " Who
is it? Who 's there, I say?" And I said:
"Only Matey, sir." And he held out his
hand to me, and I came and sat on the
bed, and we talked and talked; and after
that he called for me every day, and I am

'. f
^'1

■ \ :,

MY PIRATE

dreadfully afraid that I put on airs about
it, though I hope not.

Then a day came when I had to tell my
dear pirate good-by. He was well again,
and had already picked up many of the
pathetic tricks of the blind. He was going
to the far,/ar West, where, with a iiiend,
he had a small interest in a mine, and the
friend thought that, even as he was, Ezra's
knowledge of engines would be of use.

The carriage stood at the door. Every
one had said good-by. I followed him
through the hall to the porch. He turned
in the doorway and shook hands a second
time with Mrs. Martin, whose false front
was all crooked and whose face was work-
ing. I had a great weight on my chest
and a pain in my throat. I did not know
what they meant then, but I though": he
was forgetting me.

Suddenly he stopped and held out his
hands vaguely before him, and said softly :
"Matey— I thought I heard Matey's pat-
ter behind me in the hall. Are you here.
Mate?"

I was at his knee in a moment, and then

MY PIFATE

he stooped, and my arms were around his
neck in a strangling hug. My face was
buried in his great, black beard. My pi-
rate, whom I loved, and of whom I had but
one doubt. Oh, if that doubt could be
driven away ! He tried to rise, but I held
him fast. This was my last chance. I
raised my face, I gulped, I gasped out my
question. " Dear Mr. Ezra," I said, " when
—you— were— a~pirat(j— did— did "—I al-
most choked over it—" did you ever make
any lady passengers walk the plank?"

He hid his face in my neck a moment.
Then, in a shaking voice, he said : " Mate,
I give you my solemn affadavy that I
never, in my goriest hour, made a gentle
female thing walk the plank, or held the
poisoned bowl to her lips, nor the dagger
to her throat ; and that 's the truth." And
then he straightened up and burst into a
laugh that fairly shook him from head to
foot. -

The man waiting at the carriage door
said : " Come, Ez, you '11 be late."

He felt his way down the two steps to
the sidewalk. He stopped ; the laugh was

^ I

. t -1

MY PIRATE

gone. He turned and silently held out his
arms. I sprang and caught him about
the neck. He held me with one ann ; he
passed his hand over my hair, my face.
He whispered: "Such an lionest little
craft ! "

He kissed me twice, then put up his
hands, loosened mine, and gently set me
down, and looking in his face, I saw from
his poor, scarred, closed lids two tears slip
down and hide themselves in his great
beard. I just heard his "Good-by, little
Mate!'' and then he was at the wrong
place by the carriage, and the man caught
his arm and pulled him to the door, and
Mr. Ezra hitched his trousers and stepped
in and was gone.

That he never killed any woman on the
sea shows he was a kind man— though, for
all that, of course you see for yourself
that he had been a pirate.

* .

<c ri

SHINS"

|HEN I hear the word "philan-
thropist" there springs up in
my mind the picture of a large,
clean, white- or silvery-haired
man, with a strong gleam of gold about
him. Perhaps it 's spectacles, p Ti -^ps
it 's chain, perhaps it 's only teeth -a rt
of gold-filled smile; but therr 's gold
about him somewhere. Now, it nevei oc-
curred to me till the other day tl lit a phi-
lanthropist was not born in that state of
gold-gleaming plumpness and grayness,
already ripe, so to speak, but that back of
him there must have been a dark-haired,
lean man of energy, and still farther back
a boy. A boy? Good heavens! a boy
and a philanthropist? They are farther
apart than the poles. And yet, and yet, the
other day I saw an embryo philanthropist ;
I 'm sure I did; and he was—but let me

■ — j~tm

"SHINS"

I <!

tell you all about it. I know him, you see.
His name is Brown— Jimmy Brown; but
he is called " Shins." His mother lives in
what she, poor soul, calls a "tenement-
flat " ; but Shins lives in the street. He is
small, he is dirty, and he has just reached
that age where he is denounced by every
living creature, save his confederates and
the generally blamed mother who bore
him. With a strong prejudice against
clothing of any kind, he has been coerced
into wearing portions of two small gar-
ments—shirt and trousers. But doing it
against his will makes him ever ready to
cast them from him upon the slightest
excuse. Therefore he takes all his baths
in public places, selecting usually some
stream commanded by the windows of
crowded passenger-cars— though the basin
of a park fountain has received his patron-
age, when he was too hurried to go farther
afield, in search of greater publicity. '

In the invention and practice of nerve-
destroying noises. Shins " beats de band."
Could Dante have heard the sounds pro-
duced by Shins through one long sum-

^, mtmm -^^^^-x*--*

"SHINS"

you see.
^n; but
lives in
ement-

He is
eaehed

every
es and

bore
gainst
^erced

gar-
ing it
dy to
rhtest
baths
some
^s of

)asin
;ron-
ther

rve-
ad.»
)ro-
im-

mor's day, the groat Italian's commodious,
varied, and ingenious hell would have been
the richer by one more torture, I am sui'o.
The sole tie that binds Shins to the
human race is his mother. Without that
tie he would be an imp, pure and simple
—a creature of torment ; in short, a small
devil. But being so little, hunger and
stress of weather still send him home oc-
casionally, and he therefore remembers
some of her peculiarities: how she had
his father larrup him, once, for cruelty to
a caged rat ; how she looked at him with
her tired gray eyes, shining through big
tears, the day he pulled off the fly's wings.
And he wonders why the tear-filled eyes
hurt worse than the licking did. And he
can remember, too, how she nursed and fed
a poor homeless cat whom one of the
neighbors had heartlessly injured— this
mother, who had tried hard to make him
truthful. But Shins finds truth-telling
incompatible with a high position in "de
gang," so, to compromise matters, he lies
when occasion demands, but promptly
licks any other boy who says he lies.

(

.')j

♦♦sniNS"

Now, tho other day, while the hot wave
was with us, for my sins I had to visit
tho city— so I thought, going down. Coui-
ing home I changed my mind, as that visit
had brought to me my discovery. It was
the second dreadful day, and Mrs. Brown,
noticing the signs of sleeplessness and
suffering in the face of her small savage,
Jamesie, had withdrawn from her hard-
earned capital the sum of three pennies,
which she had placed in his hot little fist,
telling him he might treat himself. And
Shins's dull eyes had brightened quickly.
He flung his arms about his mother's knees
in a rough embrace, and dashed, whoop-
ing, down the stairs, and off on a wild
chase after a "hoky-poky" man— the
puissant lord of that push-cart in which a
battered and dingy ice-cream can is high
enthroned.

In his search he was attended by a
number of "de gang," who followed him
as fast as various stages of stone-bruises
would permit. Not that they had pennies
to spend for themselves, but because they
liked to see "de deal," and there was al-

"SHINS"

wave
) visit
Com-
t visit
t was
rown,
and
vage,
hard-
inies,
3 fist,
And
ckly.
^nees
oop-
wild
-the
ich a
high

)y a
him
lises
nies
:hey
J al-

ways a small chance of " swipin' ^ a bit of
ice from "de cart— see!" They were on
the corner of Fourth Avenue and a down-
town cross-street when word came from a
flying messenger that the " hoker-poker "
was coming, so they rested there, wait-
ing; and as Shins wiped liis streaming
face on his sleeve, he noticed a boy near
him with an enormous slice of bread in
his hand. It was not only thickly but-
tered, but it was fairly covered with a
mighty cut of meat. The bare sight of it,
this hot day, sickened him. lie turned
his head away and looked straight into the
face of a famishing dog, who stood— a liv-r
ing longing— before the boy with the mon-r
ster sandwich. Shins, trying not to see,
turned his glance down the avenue. No
use ; he saw the ridgy rib-bones, the mangy
marks on the yellowish-brown coat ; saw
how the sad, sagging tail gave a piteous
little deprecating quiver now and then,
that seemed to say: "Yes— y-es- 1
th-i-n-k a crumb is go-ing to co-me my
way tils time — a crumb for me,'^^
Shins turned quickly to see ; but no, the

.TF :■

■I I

'i J !

"SHINS"

boy gave no crumb, though the strained,
bright eyes upon him were anguished, and
the creature swallowed convulsively at
each bite the boy slowly took.

At that moment a wild shout pro-
claimed the appearance of the hoky-
poky man. Great excitement followed.
The boys swarmed about the cart,. Shins
secured his coveted morsel of icy delight,
and hoping a great big hope that the dog
might be gone, turned round to see him
limping after them, his nose high in air,
following the maddening scent of the
meat ; and, to cap the climax, just at that
moment the creature staggered and nearly
fell on the blistering stones. Shins shut
his teeth hard one instant ; then, turning
back his lips, contemptuously he shouted
out his really splendid lie :

"Y-ah!" he yelled, "y-ah! dis cold
sweet stuff 's only fit for gals ! When I
eat, I wants to eat meat, de stuff w'at
gives a feller muscle. Say, you Soapy!
do yer want to make a deal I I'll swap
dis sweet mess wid yer— if you '11 swap
even— fer ver hank of bread an' meat."

'#*'^»^'''*^'i

"SHINS"

Did Soapy want to swap? Did not
Soapy (so called because he was the dusti-
est boy in the ward) know a good thing
when he saw it ? A moment more and the
cream had changed hands. Shins had the
bread and moat, and with wild whoops of
pretended satisfaction, he dashed down
the side-street, the mangy, wavering, pant-
ing dog, with hope almost gone from his
eyes, forced by gnawing hunger still to
follow.

The " gang " remained by the cart, and
at the first area- way Shins turned in, and,
with a look of loathing, cast the food upon
the stones, where the following hunger
found and with faint growling fell upon
and devoured it.

But Shins— poor little heat- worn Shins !
Every separate nerve in his city-sick little
body cried passionately for that moment
of refreshment,— that icy, icy, icy touch
upon his dry, parched lips,— and it was
gone. Soapy was eating it. He could
not help it. His arm was against the area
gate, his dirty, weary little face was buried
in it, and he cried as if his impulsive little

*' SHINS"

heart would break— cried until a small
noise attracted his attention. He looked
around, and through his tears saw the
dog had already finished his real work,
and was now attending to a few details,
such as picking up the widely scattered
crumbs and carefully licking the butter olf
his upper lip.

The lightning quickness of the whole
performance so delighted Shins that he
cried out : " Well, you are a high roller ! "
And as the dog wagged a pleased assent to
the assertion. Shins told him to " com' on "
and he 'd get him a drink.

I saw them at a leaky hydrant. Shins
had caught some water in his torn old hat,
and the " high roller " drank and drank ;
and as Shins was telling him how easy it
was for a smart dog to learn to walk on his
hind legs, I looked long and carefully into
his tear-brightened eyes, shining above his
dirty, streaky cheeks,— -looked long and
carefully, as one should look who finds
something great in embryo,— and there
surely is a future philanthropist in this
little street gamin, Shins.

MY MR. EDWARD"

(

i"l

111:

'm^WmMi

"MY MR. EDWARD''

[DON^T know why my thoughts
should travel so far backward
to-day— why I am forced to
dwell upon these early memo-
ries, so broken, yet so vivid. Is it be-
cause the rain is falling? Not the warm,
sweet rain of April ; not the fierce, black
rain of November : but the soft, sad, tear-
like rain of early autumn, through which
the loosened yellow leaves fall in heavy
silence to the sodden earth. Perhaps.
Or perhaps I have gazed too hng, too
steadily, upon the bit of iron foolishness
standing on the table here before me,
knowing its great cost,— poor little >y flat-
iron, made to press a dolly's wai tobe, —
and remembering, as I must rem* ruber all
my life, the day the awful price as paid,
and it became my property. I ^i haps !
Curious things early childish memories

"MY MR. EDWARD"

are, too. There will be some event re-

' I

membered with astonishing clearness, even
words of unknown meaning being re-
called ; then there comes a hiatus ; then an-
other memory, unconnected, all accepted,
as we accept our dreams, calmly, as a
matter of course— as when in sleep, with-
out surprise, one gathers superb flowers,
having waded through snow to reach
them, or receives with serene dignity the
highest personages in the land in a cos-
tume of euch shocking limitations that
were one awake one would shriek even to
her maid to keep out of the room.

So in this, my earliest of memories, I
was there. I know no " hows " or " whys."
I was just there, and I found it good.

The house was big and white, the lake
was big and blue. The rain never fell,
! Tie wind never blew, and the sun always
shone— " 'ceptin' when I was asleep."
Naturally, the sun would not shine while
I slept.

I had at this time three different ways
to get down-stairs. One was to stand at the
top and call— roar, if need were— till help

''MY MR. EDWARD"

came. The second way was to turn my
back to the staircase, lie down flat-face,
and wriggle down, the greater part of the
labor coming upon the elbows and stomach.
The third was the quickest, though it
never met with the full approval of my
elders. It was, too, the simplest. I had
only to look for a moment, then fall down ;
and being a very roly-poly young person,
damages were always slight^ sometimes
nil,

I do not know how old I was, but judg-
ing from my peculiar way of treating
staircases, and from the fact that the letter
r was entirely eliminated fr-om my con-
versation, I am led to beiiove that my
years were exceeding few.

When I think of this time I always
loiter; because in this little incident lies
my whole childhood— the only time in all
my life in which I knew not care; for
when I had passed my fifth mile-stone of
life I was an anxious little woman, and
Pain and Poverty walked on either side of
me and held my hands firmly claspec* in
theirs. But let that pass. I say that I

i 1

-it'

; '

1!^

f ;

H-

^v-

"MY MR. EDWARD"

was then very young and, thank God, very
happy.

My family (I called them all mine) was
composed of white-haired Judge Walden
and his wife and their son and daughter,
whom I always referred to as "my Mr.
Judge," and " my Mrs. Judge," " my Miss
Kate " and " my Mr. Edward."

I loved them all ; but as for my Mr. Ed-
ward, my cheeks grow warm even now
when I recall the intensity of the love I
bore him. So great it was, sometimes it
grew to pain. Once, when he asked me
how much I loved him, after a vain at-
tempt or two to find some measure for my
love, I gave a little moan, and laying his
hand across my throat, 1 sobbed : " I love
you so big, it hurts me wite here." And
then i.e caught me up in his arms, and
passed his lips to and fro, to and fro,
across my aching throat, till all the pain
was gone, and called me "Mite," and
"little Sweetheart," and kissed my tear-
wet eyes, and mounted me in state at last
upon his shoulder ; and when 1 threw off
his hat, he laughed, and carried me about

"MY MR. EDWARD"

and showed me a bird's nest and many
other fair and marvelous sights beneat)^
the blue sky, while I passed most of my
time in showering kisses on the top of his
head, and loving him. How I loved him I
and oh, dear heaven, if only he had not
loved me, perhaps it had not all happened
as it did !

My family noticing me so much, I saw
little of my mother, who was sewing for
my Mrs. Judge, and sat all day long at
work in a little room just olf the sitting-
or morning-ixxvm, and opposite the stair-
case — which pix)ved very convenient on
those occasions when I decided upon fall-
ing down the stairs. 'T was here I came to
bo dvessed, since my mother rose so very
eai^ that she had to leave me in bed to
finish my sleep.

But before the ceremony of dressing
took place, I had a duty to perform, in
providmg breakfast for seven small
variegated kittens— half -orphaned, and
wholly hungry. They awaited my morn-
ing appearance with feverish anxiety, and
on sight of me they fell at once into line,

♦

''MY MR. EDWARD"

I A

Indian file, and followed where I led—
straight to the bowl of morning's milk
that was waiting for us. Then, with night-
gown raised that I might not stumble, with
short arms clasped close around the bowl,
and eyes fixed unwinkingly upon the
dangerously swaying milk inside, I, with
my streaming tail of cats behmd, made
solemn progress across the big kitchen,
through the summer kitchen, out to the
back porch,— a mighty journey,— where,
with bowl placed on the floor, and night-
gown lowered, I rested from my labors, and
watched with absolute delight the seven
little rose-pink tongues dart in and out
of the sweet white milk, the fourteen fat
little sides gradually filling out and be-
coming round. After this I trotted back
to be myself groomed and dressed for the
happy day of little lessons from my dear
Miss Kate, pats and nods from my Mr.
and Mrs. Judge, and loving indulgence
beyond belief from my adored Mr. Ed-
ward; while each day and every da^^-
they individually and collectively charged
me not to touch green plums, green apples,

Pi|i

•'MY MR. EDWARD"

^reen

this and that, or I shoul'^ surely
suffer from that awful thing I called
"cololoi" in my vain attempt to repeat
correctly their word "cholera."

Particularly was I charged to leave the
green plums alone, because, by some
chance, one plum-tree grew outside the
orchard walls, and directly in my way.
And I daily made solemn promises, with
many noddings of the head, and a finger
in my mouth, and being corrected regu-
larly for that, repeated my solemn prom-
ises, and all the noddings, without the
comforting finger in my mouth, but with
hands clasped oehind my back— which
effort usually capsized me ; while the grav-
ity with which I accepted these reversals,
and calmly waited for some one to stand
me up again, filled my family with mu'th.
My Mr. Judge would shake with laugh-
ter, and say: "Oh, come here, you little
graven image, and kiss me ! "

But it was in my Mr. Edward's neck I
hid the troubled solemnity of my face, and
he would stroke my hair, and open my
silent little mouth, and look within to see

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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"MY MR. EDWARD"

if the cats had robbed me, and know no
rest until my baby tongue was set going
again. And so I went trotting and stum-
bling through that sweet time of sunshine
and love into the day beginning with the
laughable, childish disaster of the summer
morning, which led to the awful disaster
of the black night.

We were poor, my mother and I, and I
owned just two toys. One was a doll, quite
small, but of such hideous aspect the very
cats turned tail and fled from her. I wanted
my Mr. Edward to kiss her once. But he
asked me if I did n't think it would be
much nicer if he took off his hat to her?
He said he did n't know her very well, and
besides, he noticed one of her eyes fell in-
side of her somewhere when I kissed her,
and perhaps they might both fall into her
if he were to kiss her. So I consented to
his proposal, and he always took off his
hat when he met us in the garden, where
I played " cololol " with her by tying her
hands across her stomach to express the
pain she suffered, and put green plums in
her lap to show what a bad doll she was.

f'^-

"MY MR. EDWARD"

;

I also owned— oil, that I had not !— a tiny-
pewter iron. I think it cost two cents,
and the amount of laundry-work I did
was astonishing. So long as I heated my
iron in the sun on the window-sill, all
went well ; but, alas ! the spirit of mimicry
that lives in every child dwelt in me. I
saw the woman in the kitchen put her
irons on the hot stove ; I saw her wet her
finger and touch them, to see if they were
hot, rub them on a cloth to make them
clean : therefore must I do all these things.

By standing on tiptoe I could put my
little iron on top of the stove; so I did
it, and turned to make my doll-clothes
ready for ironing. When all was pre-
pared I returned to the stove ; but there was
no iron there. In vain I looked, craning
my neck anxiously. The little shining
flat-iron was not there. Then my anger
began to rise, and turning to the woman
working at a table, I demanded of her
my " iwon." She said she did not have it.
I said she did. Just then she went over
to the stove to change her cool iron for a
hot one, and in a moment she gave a great

1.;>

- : i

"MY MR. EDWARD"

roar of laughter, and, pointing to a silvery,
quivering little ball or great bead lying on
the stove-top, declared : " That ^s your flat-
iron, miss, all melted into that ! " and fairly
howled with great-mouthed enjoyment.

It was too much for a very small per-
son with a very fierce temper, who was,
moreover, keenly sensitive to ridicule.
Eage entered into and possessed me to
such an extent the woman became fright-
ened, and, running to call my mother, met
Mr. Edward and brought him instead. He
gave but one look at the speechless, white-
faced, passion-shaken " mite " before him ;
then, catching me up in his arms, he de-
manded sharply, " What does this mean ?
what have you been doing to the child?"
And while the servant volubly explained,
he carried me outside, and sprinkled water
on my face, and gave me some to drink,
and gently forced open my little clenched-
up fists, and kissed each palm, and held
me till, quite supine, I rested on his breast,
and putting my arms about his neck,
weakly whispered: "She 's bad, she is;
she tooked my iwon and then she made
fun to me."

•5-- -*«»•■ ^

"MY MR. EDWARD"

■•I-

But he said " No, " and took me back
into the kitchen and tried to demonstrate
to me the possibility of turning a beautiful
pewter flat-iron into a trembling, rolling,
little liquid ball, and incidentally to restore
the servant's character for truthfulness.
At first not even he could convince me.
At last, however, when he had dropped
the hot liquid into a cup of cold water and
the pewter hardened again, I was con-
vinced, and in that moment there came to
me a sense of loss, such utter, hopeless loss,
as I trust few babies ever know, and
sorrow, without one trace of anger, taking
possession of me, I wept as if my heart
would break, and ever kept repeating :

"I dess had that one iwon, dear Mr.
Edwar'; I only had dess that one little
iwon ! "

And Mr. Edward gave a groan and
looked long at me, and shook his dear
head, and said: "Mite, little Sweetheart,
life will be hard for you." And I was
true to my sex, and instantly asked,
"Why?"

He did not answer that question, but
told me what he would do if I would cry

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"MY MR. EDWARD"

no more ; told me of a wonderful toy of
real iron, just like the flat-irons the
grown-ups used, only very little, that he
would get for me from the city, that very
day.

I shook my unbelieving head and an-
swered with a sob : " Tan't put it on the
stove!"

And he said: "Yes, you can, dear; you
can make it hot enough to blister every
finger you own ; just think of that ! And
you can burn clothes, and frighten your
mother, and keep everybody nice and
lively." And when he added that I might
iron a handkerchief for him, and do it all
myself, I seemed quite won over, till he
wished me to promise that I would be
happy while he was away. Then I f rown-
ingly shook my head. I could not be
coaxed to give the desired promise. At
last he asked me why; and I burst out
passionately : " Tan't be happy wif out Mr.
Edwar' ! "

How he laughed!— the ringing laugh of
youth. Then he began telling me all I
could do : there were the flowers to see to,

"t..

=*MY MR. EDWARD"

and the kitties to play with, and I might,
perhaps, fish up my doll's eyes.

At that point I interrupted by exclaim-
ing : " DolPs eyes in her head now, bgfe ;
they 's glued fast ; muvver did it ! " Anr*
I ran and brought the fair object to sh
him.

His face turned very red, and his mus-
tache twitched, so that I put my finger on
it, saying: "'Stache squirms." And he
said : " My dear child, she would make any-
thing squirm. Do you know, I think I
like her better when she wears her eyes on
her inside; she looks kinder. Then you
can ask yourself your Sunday questions
— and give the answers plain, please, with-
out any additions, such as you gave father
yesterday, when he asked them."

Instantly I was all excited, and hastened
to defend myself : " He laughed to me, he
did. He dess ast me to who was first
man, first woman. I say, Adam, Eve;
and they was in their garden in dess naked
bare skins, dess like I am in my baf, and
got shame to theirselves, and found a
lady's apron with leaves on 't, and put it

. u

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■' ,i-P'

"MY MR. EDWARD"

on. And he laughed to me, and you told

me that you' own self."

He tossed me up in the air, and cried:
Mite, you will be the death of me, yet ! "

Oh, heedless, cruel words ! Then he said :

Now tell me good-by; I 'm going for
your iron, my little maid."

How I clung to him ! I am glad to-day
of every kiss I pressed upon his kind face.
He loosened my strangling embrace at last,
and went over to the stables.

A little after, as I sat on the grass pre-
paring to tie my doll into an extra hard
case of cololol, I saw and heard. The
horse and trap were at the door. My Mrs.
Judge and my Miss Kate were crying and
my Mr. Edward was saying : " Oh, non-
sense, dears!" And I repeated to my
doll," Oh, nonsense, dear ! " Then my Mr.
Judge put his hand on my Mr. Edward's
shoulder, and said something I did not
hear. But Mr. Edward— I always heard
what he said— answered : "There is no
danger, believe me, sir." Then he pointed
to me, and said : " She is nothing but a
child, but you don't know how deeply she

''MY MR. EDWARD"

feels." And then he laughed a little laugh,
and added: "You would n't ask me to
break my promise to a mere baby like
that, now, would you, sir f "

And he took his father's hand and held
it a moment ; then he kissed my Mrs. Judge
and my Miss Kate, and got into his trap,
and turned his horse's head toward the
plague-stricken city. Once he turned and
caught my eye, and waved his hat and
called, "Good-by, Sweetheart!" And I
kissed both my hands and cried: "Come
back, dea' Mr. Edwar' ; come back ! "

But he laughed and drove away. So,
laughter in eye and lip and voice, and
in his heart the purest love for the lit-
tle stranger child within his gates, —a no-
body to him, a bit from the flotsam and
jetsam of life's ocean,— he left us, in the
heart of the golden day.

I was very lonely, and I am afraid I
grew cross. I remembered suddenly that
my dear Mr. Edward liked my doll's eyes
inside of her ; so with a cheerful forefinger
I poked them both back again, and rattled
them about in her poor empty head with

"MY MR. EDWARD"

inn

L *

great satisfaotion. Then, in memory of a
cold my Mr. Judge liad taken through
falling asleep out hero on the grass, I left
her in the shadiest, dampest place I could
find, charging her to " take cold and sneeth
hard."

Then I wandered off, looking for my
kittens; but the whole seven were curled
up in one furry, sleepy mass, at the bottom
of an old market-basket, and play they
would not. One or two of them yawned,
showing me their sharp little fish-bone
teeth, but that was all. I called them
"nasty little lazies," and then felt sorry
for it, because my Miss Kate had told me
that "nasty" was not a nice word for
very small girls to use.

I was so lonely, so disappointed. I
turned at last and trotted off to where my
mother sat working, and laying my head
against her knee, I burst out crying. She
pushed me from her, catching up her work
and exclaiming sharply: "You must n't
cry on this dimity ; you '11 spoil it ! " then
drew me back again and let me cry in
peace on her sewing-apron, that being

"MY MK. EDWAUD"

quite teai-proof, and her own. Poor
mother! her first consideration was for
her employer's material. Her baby's grief
was a secondary affair. Poverty teaches
many mothers just such lessons.

I slid down beside her, and almost
directly noticed a fly in a bar of sunshine
on the floor. He had been in trouble
recently, and was working over himself
at a great rate, straightening a crumpled,
bent wing. Then he stood upon two front
legs, and took a pair of middle legs, or
arms, and crossed them over the small of
his back, which he rubbed and rubbed.
Then he twisted his legs together, and
then untwisted them, which made me
laugh. And he looked up at mo and
said " Hallo ! " and I said " Hallo ! " too.
Then he ran backward a few steps, and
jumped up in the air, and buzzed a little;
and then he went at his back again, and
he said: "You wait a minute, till I get
this dried milk off my back, and I '11 show
you something funny. I know you;
you 're the little girl that feeds the cats."
And I said : " Do you know my Mr. Ed-

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■* '.

I: ■ I

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"MY MR. EDWAUD"

war' ? " And ho shut one eyo, and ho said :
"Lot mo see; is ho ticklish!" And I an-
swered : " Yes." And he said : " Then I
know him. I was walking on the back of
liis nock all the morning. He 's restless ;
it was he that banged my wing all up this
way. Now, miss, my back 's clean ; did you
ever see a fly take his head off?" I said:
" No." " Dear me ! " he said, " that 's odd.
Well, just look here, now." And he put
one hand up at the back of his little red
head and unfastened a hook, and down
came his head in both hands, and he held it
out to me and said : " Do you want to take
a look at it ? " And just then my mother's
voice said: "If you don't wake up, you
will get no bread and milk for supper ; the
eats Avill take it all."

The fly had gone, and taken his head
with him, though I looked carefully for
them both.

After my supper, I gathered all my
seven kittens— very attentive to me now
—into my lap, and sat in the corner and
asked them all my Sunday questions, and
told them who made them, and what of;

"MY MK. EDWARD"

and tho Sunday subjects soemod to exert
the same influence over cats that tliey ex-
ert over people, for we all fell asleep to-
gether.

Then I was being bumped a good deal,
and I opened my eyes long enough to
see that it was my mother who carried
me, and that the candle was crooked, and
that the grease ran down on one side of it
at each upward step on the stair. When
next I opened my eyes I was in the dark.
I put out my arms for my mother; she
was not there. At the same moment I
heard steps,— hurried steps in the hall,
steps that passed my door, and then others
that paused there,— and the door was
thrown quickly open. My mother came
in, a candle in her hand, and she all dressed
as for the daytime. She never glanced at
me, and she looked so strange, I felt afraid
of her. She threw open the door of a
closet, and began pulling down from a
high shelf great big woolen blankets ; and
suddenly right above her on the ceiling
there appeared a gigantic, terrifying black
head.

* 1

*'MY MR. EDWARD"

U \\ f

I murmured, "Mama!" but she never
noticed me. She stooped and lifted the
blankets, and turned with the light toward
the door, followed all the time by that
great head. Then, more loudly, I cried ;
" Oh, mama ! " But she answered sharply,
" Hush, keep quiet ! " and went out, shut-
ting the door so quickly I could not tell
whether the great black head went with
her, or whether it was shut up there with
me. I was not afraid of the darkness,—
that is a terror reserved for the well-to-do,
—so I flung my little legs over the edge
of the bed, intending to go after my
mother. But the thought of that head
stopped me. If it could move all over the
ceiling and wall, it might come down to
the floor. So up I pulled myself again, and
in the hot summer night, with little limbs
cast all abroad, and long hair thrown up-
ward over the pillow, I waited for my
mother, and wondered if she would be
afraid of the great head— wondered what
she wanted of the big blankets— and— and
— and—

" What was that ? Oh, what was it ! A

"MY MR. EDWARD"

cry so long, so piercing, so awful, in that
still blackness, it seemed to reach from
the garden clear np into the heaven where
my Mr. Edward said the great God lived
who loved all little children. I sat there
stiff with fright, while something like cold
air seemed to creep through the roots of
my thick-growing hair. I could not move,
but finally I heard my own voice say:
" Oh, Mr. Ed war', where are you f " And
I waited and waited, and at last I slept,
for when I opened my eyes the room was
full, full, oh, full of sunlight, and I was
alone, at: usual, a fact I accepted cheer-
fully enough, and slid myself down from
the high bed, and picking up as much of
my wardrobe as I could carry, I started
down-stairs, going backward on knees
and elbows. My cargo was not well
placed, I fear, for it shifted before the voy-
age was over, and a good deal of it went
by the board, for when I reached the foot
of the stph's and looked up, I saw one
small petticoat, two socks, and one shoe
in my wake. I was not disturbed by that,
however; such things had happened be-

"MY MR. EDWARD"

1 •

I I

fore ; but uever before had I failed to find
my mother sitting there at work.

The air was heavy with an odor I de-
tested—that of vinegar. My kittens seven,
with their appetites, were awaiting me,
though, and with erect tails quivering at
their tips with excitement, followed me in
line as I went to get their bowl of milk.
But there was no milk. Instead, there
stood upon the chair a great plate in which
mustard had been mixed. I wrinkled up
my nose disgustedly; I hated its smell.
Then, too, I had always seen it mixed
daintily and in small quantities; and I
thought : " Some one will get scolded for
making such a lot."

There was no one in that room, no one
in the next. No cook or dairywoman, no
waitress, no mother. I went slowly out-
side in my bare feet. I heard the cows
moo and moo ; but there were no men, not
one grown-up to be seen, no, not anywhere.
I laughed aloud. The sun shone hot and
bright, and all this world was mine. I
ran my feet into the edges of uncut grass,
and cried out at the cold, and stumbled

*'MY MR. EDWARD"

back ill haste to the shaven lawn again.
I watched a great bumblebee pushing
itself out backward from a scarlet flower,
and one of my seven a-hungered ones
licked my naked ankle with its rou^n little
tongue, and I fairly gurgled with delighted
laughter. I saw a toad, too, and was going
to scream, but I remembered my Mr. Ed-
ward told me that he had ear-rings, or a
breastpin, or some sort of jewelry in his
top-head, and was very wise to keep it out
of sight. And he knew, too, when it was
going to rain, but he would n't ever tell
anybody. So I just did n't scream, nor
touch him, either, but let him sit and wink
his eyes.

Then I fared forth to the front of the
great house. Still no grown-ups. The
lake was blue and still; the house was
still, the shutters all tight closed. Could
every one have gone away and left just
me behind !

Then suddenly, with widening eyes of
pleased astonishment, I saw something
gently waving at the door, something thin
and black, and, yes— yes, there were long

»■ I

"MY MR. EDWARD"

11 U;

ribbons, too ! " Oh," I said, " they failed
out of the window, and I can have 'em for
my dolly's dwess ! " and I ran to the steps.

When there was company, or when any
one was looking at me, I could with great
difficulty get up those steps upon my feet ;
but now, at that moment, haste was the
first consideration, and I made the ascent
on hands and kn^es. I had much trouble
in getting the long black things free from
the door-knob, but at last I had them, and
gurgling with delight, I trotted back
around the house, trailing my awful trea-
sure-trove behind me ; and it seemed to me
I heard from somewhere within, in the
closed house, voices singing a Sunday
song. I was not sure of that, and I only
cared for my mother's scissors now, and
my dolly.

I had obtained both, and sitting on the
floor with bare feet stretched out before
me, the skirt measure taken, I was just
putting the scissors to the crape when
there was a cry— one rough hand dragged
me to my feet, and another one pulled
from me "my own things, the things I

-S'

*'MY MR, EDWARD"

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had found my own sel'," and I was shaken
violently. The grown-ups had come back,
and they were all cross to me, and oh ! I
wanted my Mr. Edward. He would n't be
cross, and he would tell me why all these
grown-ups had been crying, and what was
the voice in the dark night, that went up,
up in the sky, and " 'f raided " me so.

I have no memory of being dressed, or
of anything but my search for Mr. Edward.
I asked every one for him, until some one
—I don't know who it was, but may God
forgive the cruel act— some one caught me
up and said roughly : " Come here ; I '11
show you your Mr. Edward ! " And a voice
said : " Don't— oh, don't do that ! "

But the one who carried me went on
quickly through the house, so still and all
so dark, and up the stairs, where the odor
of vinegar grew stronger as we went.
And then we were in a hall, and at the
farther end there was a woman all in
black, on her knees by a door. Her face
was bowed down, but her hair was gray,
and I knew it was my Mrs. Judge. I was
frightened ; I tried to get down ; but the

f" I I

"MY MR. EDWARD '^

■' \

nt.ir '

H-

strong, cruel one held me fast, and opened
the door, and we entered the room. It
was dark, save for one long, bright ray of
sunlight which came from an imperfect
shutter. That ray fell upon a great, long
box. I struggled violently, and then held
out my arms and cried in an agony of ter-
ror, "Mr. Edwar' ! oh, Mr. Edwar' ! " while
my tormentor went straight on, and by
main force held my face directly above the
opening in that great, black box. But I
swiftly closed my eyes, and with my last
ounce of strength stiffened my little body
out in one act of repulsion, tried to cry
aloud, but found the waves of the lake
were beating high in the room, and all was
cold and dark.

Then I was in bed in daytime, and I
could not speak or eat without a scold-
ing. And then there was a tall, gray man
there, a doctor, who seemed very sorry
about something, and he said: "Bring
her favorite plaything here." And they
brought the kitten who wore her hair
parted in the middle like my dear Miss
Kate, and put it on the bed ; but I turned

^ t

U- 4

"MY MR. EDWARD"

my face to the wall, and shivered, and
muttered: "Mr. Edwar'— I dess want my
Mr. Edwar'.'' And the sorry man said an-
gry things about being cruel, and about
somebody's brain being shocked, and he
patted me and went away.

Then I was out in the garden again, and
still searching for my one friend. I came,
at last, face to face with that pitiful rid-
dle: How could my dear Mr. Edward
possibly be down in the ground at that
place over there they called " a grave," and
at the same time be up, up in the blue
where the great God was?

I was unhappy. No one was unkind to
me. I still had my little lessons in let-
ters and sewing little seams, and in gentle
manners. But they— they were different.
I always felt cold when I was with them.
One day I had on, at my own request, my
best dress and my slippers, and I was very
proud of them ; and on that day I displayed
myself, and tried all my little airs and
graces, to the very last one, to attract their
attention and win a smile from my family ;
but in vain. I felt so small, sc hurt; the

■1

I'-i

t'i

'If:

'V' '

!! '

Ml .!

IE -' I-

100

"MY MR. EDWARD"

pain was in my throat again ; and I laid a
trembling little hand on Miss Kate's knee
and said :

" Dea' Miss Kate, ain't the rest of you
ever goin' to come back no more ? "

She looked quickly at me, and said:
"What— why, what do you mean?"

In dumb misery, I stood trying, trying
to get some words to make her know my
meaning. At last I stammered out :

" The rest— the other rest of you— that
used to be— when— when Mr. Edwar'
was— 1 " Then, with a burst of sorrowful
triumph, I cried, " He loved Mite, he did ! "
and stood there sobbing.

My Mrs. Judge got up quickly, and said,
" May God forgive ns all ! " and she went
straight out of the room to my Mr. Judge
outslie. And Miss Kate was very pale, and
she looked hard at me, and then she said,
" Oh, Mite, forgive me ! " and her face be-
gan to work, and she drew me to her and
kissed me, and smoothed my hair and said
softly twice over : " Edward's little Sweet-
heart ! Edward's little Sweetheart ! "

And then she dried her eyes, and stood

"MY MR. EDWARD"

101

up, and said quite loud : " Yes, Mite, the
other part shall come back to you soon—
soon as may be, dear ! " And she took my
hand and led me out of the house. As
we crossed the porch, I looked back, and
saw my Mr. Judge sitting in the shadow,
his hands resting on his cane, and my
Mrs. Judge stood beside him with her arm
about his neck.

But we went on, out into the blazing
sunshine, and suddenly I took my finger
from my lips to point with delight to a
branch of plums directly facing us.
" Oh," I cried, " see ; the green, hard plums
are all made blue and sweet now. Who
did it?"

She looked up in the sky a moment,
then down at me, and said very low:
"God did it!"

She turned her gentle face a moment
toward my Mr. Edward's grave; then she
raised herself up very straight and tall,
and said out loud and sweet:

" God, who doeth all things well."

And that 's my last recollection of my
family. I can never see them after that.

;

102

"MY MR. EDWARD"

My greatest pain in recalling them all, I
think, lies in the feeling I have— a feeling
that Is strong as absolute fact— that my
Mr. Judge never rested his eyes upon my
face, from the moment Mr. Edward turned
toward the stricken city.

■j

ill, I

iliiig
my
my

•lied

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

^\-

i AC

.irki-

■ ' ^f '>

..^i-*la*:

lOU must often have hoard the ex-
pression, " He looks as thougli
he had just come out of a baud-
box." Well, when Theophihis
arrived at his present home ho literally
stepped out of a bandbox, in which he had
traveled from Philadelphia, in company
with Antoinette and Susan B. Theophi-
lus — his charming wives.

Perhaps, for the sake of the proprieties,
it should be stated at once that Thooplii-
lus is not a Mormon, but an aristocratic,
handsome, and very, oh, very small ban-
tam rooster; hence his otherwise peculiar
domestic relations.

When the bandbox was brought into
the house, there was tied over its top a
piece of mosquito-netting ; and just as the
mistress eagerly pulled it off, the gar-

105

;

100

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

dener cried : " Take care, mum ; they '11
dash out and be breakin' everything."

But the little fellow said quickly : " Keep
still, my dears; there 's nothing to be
afraid of; that fellow must take us for a
lot of wild prairie-hens, confound him ! "

While all the time the mistress was cry-
ing : " Oh, you lovely things ! Oh, is n't
he a little gem?-' and she softly laid her
fingers on his head and stroked him, at
which he drew a thin white film across his
bright garnet eyes, lifted up his feathers
after the fashion of a parrot, and said:
" K-r-r-krut ! k-r-r-krut ! " And every one
laughed aloud, for though he spoke in his
own language, even the men and women
understood that he wanted the uistress to
go on rubbing his head and stroking his
feathers, which she smilingly did until
Antoinette's jealousy showed itself in a
really sharp peck at the mistress's hand;
but in answering her husband's indignant
inquiries, she defended herself very clev-
erly, declaring she had not pecked at the
lady's hand, but at her ring. She reminded
him of her attacks of indigestion, of her

■

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

107

old-time longing for diamonds, and added
that, as they were the hardest stones in the
world, she thought if she could get one or
two diamonds into her gizzard they would
grind up her food so thoroughly there, she
need suffer no more from indigestion or
bad dreams; and it had been the sudden
flash of the stone that tempted her to peek.
And her husband, loving her, was easily
convinced. But Susan B. wondered how
on earth she dared to look him in the face
and tell such a lot of fibs.

Meanwhile the mistress, rubbing the
hand Antoinette had pecked, was search-
ing her mind for a name for the new-comer.

"You see," she said, "he is so very,
very small, I can't give him a short name ;
if I did you could n't see him at all. No ;
he must be built out: what he lacks in
inches must be made up in name. Then,
too, it must be one that can't be belittled
by a nickname. I think," said she,
"Theophilus Thistlesifter would do
nicely." But the men in her service ob-
jected unanimously— German, Swede, and
Irish. As one man, they declared the name

f»

i ;

108

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

' li

to be hard to pronounce quickly on even
a workday, and impossible on a holiday.
And the mistress, who was a just woman,
admitted that, for example, on the evening
of the glorious Fourth of July it might be
a difficult task for a man to call Theophi-
lus Thistlesifter to his supper or his
perch, as the case might be ; therefore she
dropped the second name, but clung to
Theophilus, declaring that a respectable
man should be able to pronounce that
word in any circumstances.

And so he was named; and then the
gardener lifted the box and carried the
entire family down to that portion of the
chicken-house and -yard that had been
wired off especially for their use, put the
box down, and withdrew. Then, after a
moment's pause, Theophilus said : " Come
on, girls ; I 'm going to get out of here and
stretch." And out he hopped.

Pretty? Well, if his mistress thought
him pretty in that bandbox, what could she
think of him out on the ground ! Feathers
white—a fairly glistening, snowy white;
feet and legs yellow to the tint of gold;

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

109

comb and wattles blazing scarlet; while
the carriage of his small mightiness was
his crowning glory. With his head thrown
back till it almost touched his upright
tail, his wings held slightly out from his
sides, his chest thrust out, he stepped
haughtily about, as if seeking an antag-
onist ; and many a time since then has he
proved that his tiny body thrills with the
high-hearted courage of the warrior, and
he is ever ready to hurl his ounces of
weight against the pounds of his Plymouth
Rock or black Spanish enemies— roosters
who might easily destroy Theophilus by
the simple process of stepping on him.

After stretching, he looked about him a
bit, then gave a few short, quick scratches
at the earth while tenderly calling:
"Chook, chook!" And at that well-known
summons both the ladies hopped out of
the bandbox and ran to eat the refresh-
ment he had provided for them, while he
remarked : " Well, loves, this is New York,
our new home; and, as far as I can see,
the air, the sky, and the earth are about
the same ; but I do notice that the bugs

110

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

i !l-

and worms here seem to be of quicker
and livelier movement than those at our
old Philadelphia home ; so you will do well
to keep your eyes open and your bills
well sharpened, ready to come the moment
I ring the dinner-bell."

That was Theophilus's one joke; but
both ladies, politely holding their claws
before their open bills, laughed heartily.
For you see they were really very fond of
their handsome mite of a husband, and
though they heard it every day, they
would not have let his only joke fall flat
for the world. And their laughter was
sweet in his ears, and he swelled out with
self-satisfaction till he really was in dan-
ger of exploding.

However, he had to explore their new
domain, and he did it thoroughly, while
the ladies somewhat timidly peeked into
the house to see what the nests were like.
Antoinette— so called because of her pride
and her fixed idea that her profile was
queenly— was purer bred than Susan B.,
who could never have been exhibited, be-
cause she wore a pale, straw-colored half-

TPIE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

111

handkerchief about her neck, and also (of
course this is mentioned in strict confi-
dence) had a few feathers on her legs. It
is probably not too much to say that those
feathers greatly embittered Susan B.'s hie.
Still, she was very domestic, and had great
executive ability; and if the nests were
wrong in any way, she could kick them
into shape quicker than any hen on the
place, be she widowed, married, or six^^le.
Finally Theophilus came back, reporting
the place as fairly comfortable, a little
small, perhaps, but he had been favorably
impressed by the mistress, and was in-
clined to regard this enforced exclusive-
ness as a compliment to their quality, and
doubtless in time they would be permitted
greater liberty. He then escorted them
with much high stepping to the water-
dish, where they all drank, gratefully lifting
their tiny faces skyward at each cooling
swallow; and after that, with astonishing
dignity for such wee creatures, they retired
to their corner of the house, where The-
ophilus selected a perch he thought suited
to their grasp, and, with perfect justice.

'il

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112

THS GALLANT THEOPHILUS

i I

placed himself in the middle, as between
Antoinette and Susan B. he could watch
over them with equal care. But Susan al-
ways managed to be the last one to mount
the perch— she so hated to have any one
notice those wretched leg-feathers of hers.

That night, just at midnight, the velvety
black silence was suddenly pierced as full
of holes as a tin skimmer by the voice
of Theophilus, whose crow had the height,
the depth, the length, and the strength of
a small calliope ; and the mistress, sitting
up in bed holding her hands to her tingling
ears, exclaimed : " Oh, the conceited little
aristocratic wretch ! That clarion call must
be a challenge to all the dead game-cocks
of the colonial period ; for his pride is so
great, he would much prefer associating
with a well-bred ghostly rooster of Wash-
ington's time, rather than with a common
flesh-and-blood barn-yard fowl."

But be that as it may, from that time to
this, at the unholy hour of twelve mid-
night, and at three in the morning, win-
ter or summer, Theophilus rises in his
pajamas, and sends forth his sleep-destroy-

■Ai

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

113

between
watch
isan al-
mount
my one
of hers,
velvety
as full
e voice
) height,
3ngth of
, sitting
tingling
ed little
tall must
ae-cocks
ide is so
ociating
f Wash-
common

b time to
ve mid-
ng, win-
s in his
■destroy-

ing crow ; and if he has not yet succeeded
in raising the dead, he has at least pros-
trated the living on more than one occasion.
But the quality that was really to make
him popular in the neighborhood —a self-
sacrificing devotion to his wives as lasting
as it was delicate— showed itself the very
next day after his arrival. Whenever,
during the routine of domestic duties, one
of the ladies found it was time to deposit
a pretty, toy-like egg in one of the nests,
she assumed a nonchalant, even an absent-
minded expression,— sometimes, in the
case of Susan B., going so far as to hum a
snatch of song,— and, under cover of this
indifferent manner, separating herself from
the rest of the family, discreetly retired
to the privacy of the nest. Now, other
roosters, at such times, are apt to be found
bandying compliments with pert young
pullets, or foraging selfishly for them-
selves, or picking fights. But not so The-
ophilus. When he missed his tiny wife,
he smiled knowingly, scratched up a few
choice grubs or slugs, and, under cover of
No. 2's enjoyment of them, slipped after
f

114

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

No. 1, and, with a friondly "K-r-r-ut,
k-r-r-ut," cuddled his handsome little body
down as close to her as ho could possibly
get, where, as egg-laying seems to be a
somnolent occupation, they dozed and
nodded sociably together, until the sudden
opening of her clear red eyes, and a
choking "Cluck, cluck!" in her throat,
told him the seance was over ; when, in a
perfect whirlwind of triumphant joy, they
issued forth, and, cackling and strutting,
made the circuit of their inclosure.

It seems strange that the pleasure of
laying an egg never palls. An experi-
enced old hen will, at her thousandth
egg, show the same hilarious joy that the
sight of her first egg produced in her. But
then, a perfectly shaped white or ivory-
tinted egg is a very beautiful thing,
especially when you find it in a sweet-
scented nest of hay instead of the wooden
box of the grocer; and it is a wonderful
and valuable thing; and perhaps, after
all, the hen is to be excused for showing
that she knows a good thing when she
sees it.

THE GALLANT THEOPIIILUS

115

■:4

The peculiar conduct of Theophilus was
very soon noticed by the men on the place,
and they would leave their work to go
and stare, with rude laughter at his deli-
cate attention to his wives. And by and
by it was spoken of in the neighborhood,
and ladies came sometimes to peep into
the house and see for themselves the tiny
little white rooster sitting close to the
nest's side, keeping his wife company dur-
ing the egg-seance, and they bubbled over
with delight and admiration; and there
can be no doubt that Theophilus enjoyed
their praise, for he was a little beau, to the
tips of his small spurs.

In another way, too, he differed from
most roosters. The immense Plymouth
Eock cock, known as Plim, would, for in-
stance, solemnly dig up some fat slug
or grub, and would call loudlj^, " Chook,
cliook!" and his string of wives would
come rushing, all out of breath, eager to
enjoy their expected treat ; and when they
had all had a good look at it, he would
say, " Now just see me eat it ! " and down
he would gobble it himself, and then strut

116

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

about and think himself a great creature.
But the gallant Theophilus would set his
strong little claws to work and tear the
earth up like a tiny plow, and when he
turned up some delicate morsels he would
" Chook, chook ! " and the little ladies
would come running, and Theophilus
would draw back and watch them while
they ate delightedly these fruits of his
toil; for Theophilus was then, as he is
now, a gentleman.

They lived very happily. Antoinette,
to be sure, had no diamonds for her giz-
zard, but crushed oyster- shells and clean
pebbles seemed to answer as substitutes.
Bifc, Plim was the one drawback to their
peace of mind. He was a coarse fellow,
and he used to put his big yellow eye to
the meshes of the wire net and stare at the
Udies till they were quite upset ; and The-
ophilus told him more than once that he 'd
take it out of his skin some day, if they
both lived long enough. And they did
live long enough, and Theophilus kept
his word.

Yet, right in the midst of their content-

THE GALLANT TIIEOPHILUS .

117

raent, disaster camo. Poor Susan B. ! a
cruel accident took her out of the world,
the only comfort being that it was so
swift a stroke that she had not time even
to fool fear. After that Theophilus was
never away from Antoinette's side. The
men said that he fed that laying hen as
if she had been a cheeping little downy
chick. And so sweetly and lovingly they
were passing through life, when Antoi-
nette began to droop, to sicken. All that
the mistress could do was done— medicine
given, artificial heat applied. No use.
Antoinette was dying, and Theophilus
knew it. Poor little man ! She could not
stand on her feeble legs, so he would not
stand on his. He, from sitting beside her,
finally squeezed himself into the nest with
her, and there he stayed. He would not
come away to feed, to exercise, or to take a
dust-bath. He left his feathers undressed,
unpreened. They began to look dull ; his
bright comb was fading. And then, one
day, he " K-r-r-uted " in vain. Poor Antoi-
net' e's little head lay sideways toward him,
for she was quite dead. And when they

118

THE GALLANT THEOPIIILUS

; I

went to take her out of the nest, to bury
her by Susan B., Theophilus, in a very fury
of outraged grief, flew at the men's hands
and fought like a small fiend, and followed
them to the opening in the netting, and
tried to spur their legs as they walked.

With tearful eyes his mistress lifted
him and stroked his head, but he was
silent. No pleased " K-r-r-ut ! " answered
her. And soon she saw there was but one
small chance of saving the life of the griev-
ing little creature. She resolved to turn
him free, and let him go with the other
fowls.

" Oh, mum," cried the gardener, " them
big cocks will lick the life out of him ! "
But the mistress put her head on one side
and said thoughtfully : " Do you think so !
Well, I don't." And there suddenly came
to her memory the chorus of a song an
old negress used to sing at her work, and
to herself she repeated :

" Oh, put yer httle chicken
In de middle of de ring,
An' never bet yer money
On a shanghai ! "

THE GALLANT TIIEOrillTiUS

119

Then slio added aloud: "I have faith to
boliovo that that littk) tVUow is gunio clour
through. But even sliould another cock
bo too iiiuch I'or him, he M better far die
fighting than die of grief." Wliich shows
that the mistress had more sense than she
is likely to get credit for. And so poor,
lonely, drooping little Theophilus received
his liberty when ho no longer cared for it.
Most of the fowls treated him kindly and
spoke him fair, but he drew aside and
walked sadly alone. Then up stalked the
immense Plim, and looking down on The-
ophilus, he made a coarse remark about
his size. Theophilus stopped and, looking
Plim up and down, said: "Oh, I believe
you are the rascal who used to annoy the
late Ladies Theophilus! I told you I 'd
take it out of your skin, and — "

Oh, it was a beautiful fight ! Big Plim
did his best ; but that little fiend, so light-
ning quick, was everywhere except where
Plim struck. He seemed to have turned
himself into a bounding ball of feathers.
Blood began to show on both of them.
The wildest confusion reigned,— hens and

'lit
m

; i^.

\ :

120

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

cocks cackling and crowing and screech-
ing,— and at last little Theophilus suc-
ceeded in what he had been trying for
from the first. The strain of game blood
in him making him fiercely indifferent to
the punishment he received himself, he
fought on till at last he bounded on Plim's
bLck and vindictively attacked his eyes;
and the mistress had the satisfaction of
seeing the men running to save big Ply-
mouth Eock Plim from her lion-hearted
bantam, the gallant Theophilus.

She took him into her lap, and as she
sponged his bloody little face he cheer-
fully remarked: "K-r-r-ut! k-r-r-ut!"
And at those welcome words his mistress
burst out singing :

Oh, put yer little chicken
In de middle of de ring,
An' never bet jOiY money
On a shanghai ! "

For that fight had done more to stim-
ulate the small widower than had all the
iron-loaded water, the peppered food, and
the ale-soaked bread offered him in the

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

121

past two weeks. It had increased the cir-
culation of his blood, and had given him
a distinct pleasure; for there are few
pleasanter sensations than that of " knock-
ing spots" out of a wretch who has in-
sulted one held dear. Bo the mistress felt
greatly encouraged about Theophilus, and
herself fed him ale-soaked bread and
minced meat, while she gave orders for
the care of big Plim, who, standing princi-
pally on one foot, rumpled and discour-
aged, took, with his one good eye, a very
gloomy view of life, which was probably
intensified by his knowledge that, just be-
hind him, two half- grown young cocks were
imitating the late " scrap," to the hysteri-
cal delight of a group of Plymouth Rock
pullets, before whom he had been in the
habit of posing as a very god of strength
and beauty.

Theopliilus was all right in a day or
two, and in less than a fortnight he was
firmly established in the position which
he fills to this day— a position requiring a
watchful eye, quick decisior^, and plenty
of nerve ; in fact, he polices the chicken-

' t

■:\

i I

\ii

122

THE GALLANT TIIEOrillLUS

yard. Whonovor Ihoro is a row on, Tlio-
ophilns appoarf^, stopping vory higli, and
generally his passing iH^twoen the belliger-
ents two or three times is enongli, and they
walk off in ditl'erent directions; but if
things have gone so far that the "lie" has
been passed or "spurs struck," he turns
in and "licks" them both, thus keeping
his "own end up" wiiile preventing pro-
miscuous (piarreling and rowdy lighting.

The thing that tries him most is having
to stop a hen- fight. Of course, one mad
old hen can out-talk the finest rooster that
ever walked, and set two of them going at
once, and " that wry madness lies."

But it is there his fine l^veeding and
good manners come in. He will soothe
them and smooth them, offering compli-
ments to the oldest and ugliest, and to the
youngest and happiest his sympathy for the
sadness of her life, and at last leave them
still talking " nineteen to the dozen," but
not quarreling, only joining in praising
him.

One bright autumn day, the mistress,
being out picking up some pretty leaves
to spoil the big dictionary with, heard the

THE GALLANT TIIEOPIIILUS

123

low, pleased " K-r-r-ut ! k-r-r-ut ! " of Tho-
ophilus, and slio said to liorselt': "Why,
that sounds liko old times, wlien he at-
tended his little wives' egg-seances. I
wonder where he is ? "

She looked into the house, under the
potting-shed ; he was not in either place.

Again she heard " K-r-r-ut ! k-r-r-ut ! ''
She entered the orchard, and there, under
an upturned cart, sat the glistening white
Theophilus, huddled close to the lee side of
the blackest and the biggest black Spanish
hen on the place. She loomed above him,
a veritable hill of black feathers, and while
he addressed her in the tenderest tones,
she looked down at him and gently pecked
at two or three grass-seeds that had fallen
on his white shoulders, with just the coy
air of possession with which a young wife
will pick a bit of fluff from the coat- sleeve
of her brand-new husband. And at that
sight the mistress looked about for a good
dry place on the grass, and sat down there,
and laughed until she cried. And when
she heard a mad cackling, and saw The-
ophilus stepping highly and joyously by
his big wife's side, she went and looked

I .

f M

124

THE GALLANT THEOPHILUS

under the cart, and there lay one of those
immense milk-white eggs the black Span-
ish is famous for ; and, with another burst
of laughter, the mistress said : " Theophilus
must have walked around that egg, for he
could never step over it."

It was probably her inky clothing that
first attracted the attention of the little
widower. He could not, to save his life,
grow a black feather himself, and that
mass of blackness expressed his feelings
perfectly. Then, he found her a sin ^.le,
kindly, domestic creature of excellent
family, and — and — well, winter was com-
ing on, and he could not recall his little
ladies, so he made up his mind to make
the best of things, and took to wife the
big, black, gentle thing. And she has
more slugs and worms provided for her
than she ever saw in her whole life before.

They perch in the little corner that has
been home to him so long, and he polices
all day, when not at the egg- seance, and
rises in his pajamas promptly at twelve
and three to crow, and remains still, in his
mistress's eye, a very gallant little The-
ophilus.

I those

Span-

r burst

)philus

for he

ig that
Q little
lis life,
d that
eelings
sin ;. le,
:cellent
s corn-
is little
) make
ife the
lie has
[or her
before,
liat has
polices
ee, and
twelve
[, in his
le The-

A PRETTY PLAN

' I

.-I

'*i!

•;:

\ '

A PRETTY PLAN

|E were a pair of very little maids
when we met. I was the stran-
ger, and had shyly presented my-
self, with my books and slate, at
the teacher's desk, and she (the teacher) had
questioned me so kindly that I had not
once put a comforting but forbidden fore-
finger between my lips ; and then, after a
look over all the room, the teacher had
pointed out a desk at which one girl was
already seated, and told me to sit there and
share the desk with her. I obeyed, and at
once began to look out of the corner of
my eye at my companion. She had curls,
long black curls, which, as a straight-
haired girl, I was bound to adore. I had
braids of a length and thickness that
tempted every small boy I knew to grab
them for reins, and a fairness of skin that

127

128

A PRETTY PLAN

'^11 !■

■:1 t

later filled my dark little desk-mate with
envy.

She was dressed much better than I was,
but our white aprons produced a seeming
equality that prevented mortification and
wounded feeling. One thing impressed me
deeply : this little girl was eating a stick
of candy. I had seen many little girls eat
many sticks of candy, but never, never
had I seen that very ordinary action in-
vested with such grace and delicacy. She
never crunched ; one might rather say she
nibbled. She held the stick lightly with
the tips of her fingers, and the little finger
was kept well out from the others, while
about the lower end of the candy- stick,
as a protection, was carefully rolled a nar-
row band of white paper, which struck
me as being a thing peculiarly elegant and
refined.

School had not yet been called to order,
and there seemed no earthly reason why
we should not have spoken to each other
at once ; but etiquette is etiquette, and cer-
tain unwritten laws are nowhere more
binding than with little people. For some

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A PRETTY PLAN

129

tiuio WO examined each other with side-
glances. Then she of the black curls
drew a piece of paper from a book, and
with a pencil printed something with much
pursing of the lips and leaning of the head
to one side. Then she shoved the paper
toward me, and turned her head away and
nibbled candy.

I paused a decent length of time, and
then read, " E-s-t-h-e-r— me." After a bit
I took the pencil, and, with much unne-
cessary moistening of the lead, printed
" C-a-r-r-i-e— me,"

She read, then put her hand in her
pocket, and drew out a pearl knife-handle
without a blade, and a penny. I looked
silently, and drew from my pocket a broken
carnelian ring, and held it out on my
hand.

" Oh," she cried, " mend it ! "

" Can't," I answered.

" Yes, you can," she insisted.

I shook my head

"Well, Zac can; yes, he can. He 's
my brother, and he can do 'most any-
thing."

130

A PRETTY PLAN

Just then school was called to order,
and lo ! we were friends.

At recess brother Zac was consulted
about the broken ring. He decided that it
could be mended only to look at ; but Essie
— as he called his sister — showed a disap-
pointment at this so near to tears that he
finally declared he could mend the ring so
that I could wear it, if I would always
remember to hold very still while I had
it on.

Zac was older than Essie, and he was a
manly little fellow. He did n't bully the
girls, but he did fight the boys when they
called him bad names. He had big, lus-
trous eyes. I remember I called them
" shiny " then, and I told Essie he looked
like a church picture. But she said:
"Hush, don't tell him that, or he '11 be
mad at you ! "

Then she asked me if I knew what a
cherub was, and I said I thought not.
And she said, "You know a Cupid?"
and I said, "Yes." "Well," she went on,
"a cherub is just a pretty Cupid, that
has n't grown any below his wings.

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A PRETTY PLAN

131

That 's all there is of him— a head and
arms, and wings. And an old hy'v ^aid
once that Zac was a beautiful choiuu, .,nd
he called her an *old cat'; and then he
got punished; and he just hates her now.
Boys are so queer I "

In the next few days I found the
beauty and dainty airs and graces of my
little friend quite equaled by her kindness
and gentleness. But I was surprised to see
that Essie and Zac took no part in the
games and romps of the other children.
No matter whether it was " ring-around-
a-rosy," or "Come, Philanders, let us be
a-marchin'," or " puss-in-the-corner," or
even " tag,'' they always crossed the street,
and gravely seated themselves on a door-
step, and looked on. Sometimes they
silently played " jackstones."

I wondered greatly at this till, one day,
a girl asked me to come and play "tag."
I started to do so, but Essie, whose arm
was about my waist, released me and
drew back.

" Come," I said ; " see if you can catch
me ! "

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132

A PKETTY PLAN

Sho shook hor licad.

** Don't you want to play ? " I asked.

" Yes," she said ; " but— but— they won't
let me play with them."

" Why !f " I asked.

She gave me one glance of her swimming
eyes, and turned her head away, and I
saw her cheek and ear and threat slowly
turn to a dusky red. Then she St.id in a
shaking voice : " I 'm a Jew."

Zac put his arm about her neck, and
said: "Father and mother are Jews,
Essie."

At which she shook back her curls,
and in a steadier voice repeated: "Yes,
father and mother are Jews." Then,
looking at the children, she said sadly:
" They call us cruel names, and sometimes
they throw stones at us ; and, Carrie, it is n't
fair, for we did n't kill your Messiah ; and
now — now you '11 go to them, won't you ? "

And I answered: "No, I won't; they
are wicked little beasts ! " For, you see, 1
was very young, and my manners were
open to criticism.

" Oh," cried Essie, " I wish we were

A PRETTY PLAN

133

sisters ! " And I lioartily and ungrammati-
cally responded : " Oh, mo, too ! "

As "great oaks from little acorns grow,''
so from that brief sentence, " I wish you
were my sister," grew the plan that in-
volved so many, and brought two of us
so near the wedding-altar.

Now there were three of us who daily
crossed the street and sat on the door-step,
where we gravely discussed theological
questions with a solemnity fully equaling
our ignorance. They explained the Jews'
hopeful expectan<'y of attitude toward
their Messiah, and one day I asked : " Sup-
pose your Messiah should come, and sup-
pose we Christians did n't believe in him,
but said he was bad, and took him and
hanged him, then would your grandchil-
dren throw stones at my grandchildren,
do you think?"— a question which shows
our conversation sometimes took a rather
speculative turn.

They often told me of the goodness and
kindness of their father and mother ; and
once Zac said: "You see, Carrie, some-
times Essie gets kind of 'shamed of being

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A PRETTY PLAN

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a Jew, but when I remind lier that mama
and papa are Jews, she is n't ashamed any
more, because they are so good."

One noon they took me to their house.
Their grandmother and grandfather and
mother were at home. I saw all the pic-
tures and bookS) and the big piano, on
which Essie herself could play "The
White Cockade " with both hands, hardly
ever stopping to find a place, or anything.
And there was a candle-box full of brand-
new little cats, without one open eye among
them ; but when the old dog came to look
at them, they all spit and hissed like any-
thing. And I never saw so many toys
in my life before. Still, when the visit
was over, I found that the two things
which had impressed me most were the
richness of the fruit-cake, and the aston-
ishing size of the three grown-ups' noses.

On my way back to school, Essie said,
for about the twentieth time: "If only
you were my sister ! " And then suddenly
she clasped her hands, and cried: "Oh,
Zac, Zac ! "

" What 's the matter 1 " Zac asked.

A PRETTY PLAN

135

" Oh, Zac, when you marry, won't your
wife be my sister ? "

" Yes, of course," answered Zac.

"Then, Zac, dear Zac," begged Essie,
" could n't you marry Carrie right away ? "

Zac looked bothered, and he answered
slowly: " I— don't— know. Perhaps-— she
—don't want—to get— married."

" Oh, yes, she does ! Don't you want to
get married and be my sister for always,
Carrie I " eagerly demanded Essie.

Now, I was a very small woman indeed,
yet instinct told me that a proposal of
marriage should come from the brother,
not the sister, and I remained silent.

" There," said Zac, " I told you so ! She
don't want to marry us ! " At which Essie
cried so hard that her little apron was
quite wet.

I felt very guilty ; and Zac, who never
could bear to see Essie cry, turned to me
and asked: "Why don't you want to
marry, Carrie ? Is it because I am a Jew ? "

He had told me once that Hebrews kept
their hats on when they were in the syna-
gogue, and he seemed suddenly to think

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136

A PEETTY PLAN

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■II

of that, for he went on : " Churches need n't
make any difference between us. I '11
take my hat off whenever you say * Now I
lay me ' or * Our Father,' and you need n't
keep our fast-days, or anything. But you
can have fruit-cake every single day, and
play with Essie's toys, and when snow
comes, I '11 pull you both on my sled.
Essie loves you 'most to death, Carrie, and
— and— I like you an awful lot myself."

I hung my head and whispered: "No,
you don't."

" Cross my heart ! " he cried earnestly.

Still I held back and doubtfully asked :
" Do you hope to die ! "

"Yes," he replied boldly. "Cross my
heart, and hope to die, if I don't like you
an awful lot. So let 's be engaged now.
Then Essie can be happy; and next week
I '11 call and ask your mother for you,, and
the week after that we '11 get married."

"Oh," cried Essie, clapping her hands,
and tossing her lovely curls. " Do — please
do say yes, Carrie ! Be engaged now ! Here
is my blue-bead ring. Zac, give it to her.
And oh, Carrie, think! we '11 be sisters

A PRETTY PKAN

137

until we 're grown-up, big women; and
then till we 're old, gray women ; and then
till we 're dead women ! "

And so, while handsome little Zae
placed the blue-bead engagement- ring on
my finger, it was Essie and I who gave
and took the engagement kiss, and it was
Essie and I who walked hand in hand
back to school.

For the next few Jays we were very
happy little people. Essie seemed prettiei*
than ever, and I loved her dearly, and she
was so full of plans. Then, if I had a
doubt, she dispelled it ; if I found a diffi-
culty, she smoothed it away.

Once I feared their parents might not
like me in the family, but Essie cried out :
"Zac, tell Carrie what papa said." And
Zac informed me that he had told his fa-
ther he was going to marry a Christian, and
his father had laughed, and nudged his
mother with his elbow, and then said:
" Zaccheus, if you intend to marry right
now, I won't object to a Christian ; but if
you wait till you are twenty-one or so, I
shall expect you to marry a Jewess."

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138

A PRETTY PLAN

So that was all right Then the ques-
tion of dress came up. It was winter, and
I had no white dress.

" Wear a summer dress," said Essie.

" Can't," I said ; " I 'd take cold."

Then Zac spoke up: "Her aprons are
awful long. Why can't she just wear a
clean white apron ? "

"And," I added, "my Sunday hair-rib-
bons."

" Yes, that will do," decided Essie. " A
long white apron and blue hair-ribbons.
Mama will make the cake, and that 's all
we '11 need."

Valentine's day came, and I had a dear
little valentine from Zac. (I have it yet.
It 's rather yellow now, but innocent affec-
tion seems to exhale from it still.) An-
other day he risked punishment by rolling
an apple to me in school; and when I
picked it up, I found he had cut out the
core, and had put a note in the cavity. I
was a very practical youug person, and I
said to Essie : " Why did he do that, when
we will have recess in a minute ? " And she
answered : " Why, Carrie, don't you know

A PRETTY PLAN

139

you have to be courted before you can
be mairied ? And the wedding 's for next
week."

That game afternoon Zac gravely wrote
down the name of the street and the num-
ber of the house where we were living.
My mother was sewing there, as I had been
careful to tell them early in our acquain-
tance. And then, when he had folded the
paper up and put it in his pocket, he
made me a little bow, and said : " I '11 call
on your mother on Monday, Carrie, just
as soon as school is out."

And Essie caught him about the neck
and kissed him ; but he did n't like that,
and said crossly : " If you do that again, I
won't get married at all, and you can go
without a sister ! "

And Essie said : " Why, Zac ! " with two
big tears in her pretty eyes.

Then Zac was good again in a moment,
and came and petted her ; but he said boys
hated to be kissed. " Look at Carrie," he
cried ; " she never kisses me —that 's why
I like her."

And so, peace being made, Essie and I,

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140

A PRETTY PLAN

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with arms about each other's waists, and
black head leaning against brown head,
walked up and down, and put finishing
touches to that pretty plan by which
we were to become sisters, and never
dreamed that it was to be our very last
walk together ; nor that our merry part-
ing, each of us walking backward a long
way, and calling out promises for to-mor-
row, and throwing kisses,— -the only thing
a girl can throw properly,— was to be a
parting for life between the two chubby
little maids who loved each other so much
that they planned to be sisters always.
Poor little plan that went aglee! Poor
little would-be sisters !

I had scarcely entered the house when
my mother, who was bonneted, and had
her shawl and bag beside her, called me
to her, and, reproaching me for being so
late, began putting on my best cloak and
hat. I could feel my eyes getting big with
fright. "Where are we going, mother?"
I asked.

" Oh, away up- town, almost out of town,
to nurse a lady who is sick. What is it

A PRETTY PLAN

141

about school I I can't talk now ; it 's late.

Your books will be all right ; Mrs. M ,

here, will send for them on Monday.
What are you crying about? There will
be another school to go to when we get
settled a bit. Come, now ! " And taking
up her traveling-bag, and catching me by
the hand, she unconsciously swept me out
of the lives of my little promised husband
and my almost sister.
A couple of months later my mother

sent me back to Mrs. M 's on an errand.

As I was about to start home, Mrs. M

is it

said: "By the way, Carrie, the Monday
after you left us, a little Jew boy came
here, and asked to see your mother." I
gasped, and turned hot all over. She went
on : " He was the prettiest boy I ever saw,
and made the best bow. I asked him
what he wanted, but he shook his head
and said he had important business
with your mother, alone. And he was all
kind of knocked in a heap when I told
him you were both gone for good. And
then he said : * I don't know how I '11 tell
Essie ! '—whoever Essie may be, and—

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142

A PRETTY PLAN

Why, child, what are you crying for ? You
ain't afraid of getting lost going home, are
you ? No, I thought not. Well, good-by ."
And I cried all the way homo o\er the
pretty plan that had failed and the
would-be little sister I had lost.

.!t

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AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

'^»

^ V,

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

[WAS a very small city woman,
and it was my first Christmas
in the backwoods. I was but
a few months over seven 3^ears
old, but I was a very elderly young per-
son indeed. The only absolutely child-
ish thing about mo was my perfect, my
unshakable faith in Santa Claus.

My mother had gone to the distant city,
—that visit, and its nearness to Christmas,
ariusing not the faintest suspicion in my
mind,- -and she had failed to retuiTi at the
expected time. I was unhappy where she
had left me, and had got permission to
visit Grandma (courtesy title only), down
the road. But before I reached the old
log house my quilted red hood was white,
and on my hot little cheeks were cold wet
spots wliere the snowflakes had melted.
There was neither knocker nor bell nor

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146

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

even knob on the big door; but from a
hole a leather string hung down, and when
one pulled that, it lifted a big latch inside,
and one pushed the door open, and en-
tered, not a hall, or waiting-room, or re-
ception-room, or withdrawing- room, but
the house itself. It was an unusually
large log house, but it had only one great
room, and above that an attic room, which
was reached, or had been reached in past
years, by the help of a stationary ladder.

As I entered, the strange old creature I
had come to see was busily engaged in
plucking the feathers from a wild turkey.
Before she welcomed me, however, her
piercing black eyes had noted the snow-
flakes on my hood, and she sharply asked :
" Honey, did you notice them sheep in the
second field as you come along ? "

I did not quite know about " noticing,"
but I diplomatically replied that I had
seen them.

" What were they doin' 1 " she demanded.

"Nothing," I answered; "they were
just standing still— not even eating."

She began pushing the basket of feathers

111

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAU3

147

from her as she asked impatiently : " IIow
were they staiulin* ?— you poor, ignorant
little city thing! Were they in a big
circle— or a knot, with their heads down,
and their rumps out'ardi"

" Yes, ma'am," I hastily put in ; " their
heads were down low, and they were all
hunched up, like."

" Oh, Lord ! then Luke and me must go
out and fold 'em, right off now ! "

Down went the turkey. The old woman
rose, called Luke, the stiff, half -blind old
dog, snoring in the firelight, and, without a
wrap of any kind, tramped off to fold her
sheep, in obedience to the sign their posi-
tion gave her of the kind of storm that
was coming. With just such faith, she
always kept a spider-web in a dark corner,
that the spider might let her know when
it was going to rain.

A couple of hours later we were prisoners.
The whole world seemed one great mass
of eider-down, with our house pushed
down in the middle of it.

The stage had made its weekly trip the
day before— no chance of mother's coming.

148

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

rlj

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■ill;

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And Santa Clausl Oh, dear! oh, dear!
He did n't even know where I was; and
if he did, could BT«n he find his way across
the great, wide stretches of the prairie,
down through the bottom-lands, and up
into the thi. k forest, where the clinging
snow hid the blazed and belted trees that
marked the way I And this was Christmas
eve ! I laid my head on old Luke's shoul-
der, and sobbed aloud ; and at each sob he
wriggled and whimpered, and every few
moments he solemnly raised his wet fore
foot and offered to shake hands with me
for my comfort.

And then the tall, gaunt woman, with a
string of gold beads glittering about her
muscular old throat, was leaning over me
and saying : " What 's the matter, honey ?
Be yer humsick, and cryin' for yer maw ? "
And I answered that Santa Claus could
not come for me that night.

" Who ? " asked she.

" Santa Claus," I repeated.

"Well, I be dog-gorned if ever I hearn
of a name like that. Be it a man or a
woman, and what kin to yer I"

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

149

iear!
and
cross
airie,
d up

i that
itmas
houl-
ob he
J few
i fore
,h me

^ith a
it her
er me
Dneyl
aw % "
could

hearn
or a

And with wide, amazed eyes, I sat and
stared at the woman of eighty-two who
had never heard of Santa Clans.

When the kettle was hanging from the
crane, and several mathematically exact
beds of red coal had been prepared on the
broad hearth, on one of which stood the
covered iron bread-kettle, on another the
big coffee-pot, and on another a baby pot-
bellied kettle with pumpkin stewing in
it, and right in the center of the great fire-
place the wild turkey swung slowly round
and round from a worsted string, while a
tin beneath it caught the drippings— then
for a time Grandma stopped her almost
endless tramp back and forth by her big
spinning-wheel, and, seated in her splint-
bottomed chair, she stood me at her sharp
old knees, and demanded of me the whole
story of " this 'ere Santa Claus you 've
been talkin' about. I thought Christmas
was a Bible day, honey ? My old man c'u'd
read right smart, and afore he was tuk he
used to read outen the Bible much as two
or three times a year. But I never hearn
of no Santa Claus in it."

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150

AN AMATEUR SANTA GLAUS

I tried to explain, with the result of
making her cry : " Oh, I see ! he 's a sort
of a hant, not a real man. Where do he
walk when he 's at hum?" Again I ex-
plained. " Yes, yes," she said. " Snow
and ice, and pine and hemlock, mostly,
did you say? That must be up Canady
way. My old man was in Canady just
before the war in '12, and he said it was
like that. Well, honey," with a heavy
sigh, " don't you hang no stockin' to-night ;
for I tell yer I 've lived here, bottom-land
and prairie, near sixty year, and I had a
houseful of children, too, but Santa Claus
never came here once, and I reckon he
never will."

" Oh, Granny, I 'm sure he came when
your children were here, only you did n't
know to watch for him. I heard him
myself, last Christmas eve, at the back
window. I knew he was there, because I
could hear mother quite plainly telling
him she had one little girl, and she had
at least tried to be good."

To my surprise. Granny laughed sud-
denly, and then said a long " 0-h-h ! "

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

151

Then, after a pause, she again advised me
not to hang up my stocking; and when
my eyes filled with tears again, she said:
" Santa Claus is more a city hant, honey,
and next year he '11 come to yer, when yer
back hum again."

After I had said my prayers. Granny
went to the door to let Luke in, whose
own house was snowed up; and in that
moment I flew to the great fireplace, and
hung one little red-and-white clouded
stocking there, and scampered back to the
bedside. Then I stood on a chair, and
then Granny threw me up to the top of
the enormous feather-bed, where, from a
deep trough, as it were, I looked out at the
firelight playing over the long strings of
red and yellow peppers, the pole full of
pumpkin-rings hung up to dry, the
bundles and bundles of "yarbs" and
roots ; at the mahogany-colored hams, and,
in a corner by the fireplace, the flitches
of bacon; at the turkey-wings, and—
and—

Why, it was morning! I was alone.
I rushed for my stocking. For one sick-

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152

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

ening moment I thouglit it was entirely
empty. Then I thrust in my hand, and
down in the toe— oh, joy ! oh, joy ! some-
thing—what! Full of wonder, I drew out
a necklace of three strands of beads I
could not know they were of a kind fash-
ionable when my mother had been a child ;
nor did I notice that the once rose-pink
bits of ribbon to tie them with were faded
almost to whiteness. I only knew my
trusted, beloved Santa Claus had come
away into that backwood country for one
little gui. I forgot my elderly conduct,
and went cavorting round the room in my
bare feet (what child ever caught cold on
Christmas morning ?), waving my necklace
aloft, while old Luke pranced stiffly after
me, barking wildly, with all the ardor of
youth in his eyes, though the pains of old
age were in his bones. Then in came
Granny from the barn, remarking, at the
door : " Well, you-uns seem to be plumb
crazy ! " But her face was just one great
smile. While slie helped me with my
braids, she confessed that Santa Claus
was a " mighty fine old hant," and rather

AN AMATEUR SANTA CLAUS

153

sadly reckoned she had "missed a heap
by not knowin' of him afore."

Later on there was a great "geein'"
and " ha win' " heard, and four oxen came
plunging and stumbling through the snow.
They drew a slod, and on the sled was a
chair, and in the chair was my mother, at
last; and she had seen feanta Clans, and
he had feared he might not get to the log
house she described, so, just for once, he
allowed her to carry some of his gifts.

" Oh," I cried, " but he came his very
own self, after all ; was n't he good ? " And
Grandma chuckled as she walked back
and forth beside her spinning-wheel.

As an actress of some experience, I
want to offer my word of praise to this old
amateur, who, without properties, without
rehearsal, and at the age of eighty-two,
had made a first and very successful ap-
pearance in the role of Santa Claus.

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MARTY MANY-THINGS"

'f.

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J, ^sli

' I .'

MARTY MANY-THINGS

))

\'i! was three days before Chrk!
mas, and all the chill, g' 'vy
misery of the sky, the air, ii ^
the gi'imy city street seemr 1
to center in the forlorn little figure £ :nd-

ing doubtfully before No. 138 Street.

In the too short skirt, the broken shoes,
the shabby hat above the pale, pinched
face, it was easy to recognize at a glance
one of Michael Wolfs small friends of the
New York streets— one of those weary
" little mothers " who, mere children them-
selves, know all the labor, anxiety, and
care of maternity, without one trace of
its joy.

The querulous, piercing wind came
down the streets, forcing its way into
every crack and crevice of the houses,
through every stocking-bole and every

157

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158

** MARTY MANY-THINGS^'

worn place in dress or jacket, until poor
Marty Many-Things felt as if she were
dressed in the kitchen colander.

Her real name was Martha Jane Farrell,
but she had so much work to do, so many
cares to worry her, that a Sunday-school
teacher had said once : " Poor child ! you
are a regular little Martha— troubled about
many things." Then she told her mother
the teacher had patted her head and called
her " Marty Many-Things " ; and after that
the name stuck to her, as such names are
apt to do. And to-day she was indeed
troubled about many things. Her father
had, in her words, " been put away for
three months " (meaning he was impris-
oned). Her mother was "on the flat of
her back " with " the sickness." For this
mysterious ailment a homeopathic doctor
had left her a bottle of white pellets ; but
early in the morning the marauding
younger children had found the bottle,
and, with tousled heads close together, had
amicably divided and devoured them, the
results being groans of misery from Mrs.
Farrell, and slightly feverish symptoms in

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

150

are

the children, accompanied by an earnest
desire for more medicine like that.

But these things, bad as they were, were
not so hard to endure as was her sicken-
ing anxiety about the intentions of Santa
Claus. Would he, or would he not, come
to her house? She thought about him
day and night, and had done so for so long
a time that her poor little brain was
nearly turned. Ever since the first cheap
green trimming had appeared about the
shop windows in her neighborhood, she
had been praying, hoping, fearing. When
she took her weary walks abroad, always
dragging the two children with her,— Wil-
liam Henry holding to her skirt, while
Catharine Anne sagged stolidly over one
poor, thin shoulder,— she would wander up
and down the avenue, gazing with bright,
eager eyes at the beauties of the shop
windows. Everything appealed to her,
from the jewelers' trays, the splendid fur
cloaks, the silks and laces, the books and
musical instruments, down to the butcher-
stalls, deep in fresh sawdust and gar-
landed with greens; while at the toy-

1 1

'I 111

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100

"MARTY MANY-THINaS"

I, I

I ' ii

1 I

shops— well, she invariably halted there for
a rest, and putting one knee up against
the window-rail or -ledge, as the case might
be, she slid Catharine Anne down, turned
her around, wiped her bubbly wet mouth,
remarking, for perhaps the hundredth
time : " Well, you are the most hiecupy
and slobbery child I ever saw, Catharine
Anne ! But now look at them dolls with
all your might and main, for they may n't
be there next time we come."

And Catharine Anne would stare stol-
idly in front of her, drooling, and nodding
her bare bald head, and looking, in her
mother's big shawl, like some toothless,
tremulous, driveling old woman from an
almshouse taking in the city's sights.

Meanwhile, William Henry stamped and
pointed, and always, always found a
painted monkey on a stick, at which he
invariably pulled her skirt, and entreated
her to tell him if Santa Claus had monkeys
on sticks, and what day was Christmas
day.

And sometimes little gusts of hope blew
warm through her young heart and made

"MAUTY MANY-THINGS"

101

and
id a
he
sated
ikeys
tmas

blew
uade

her eyes bright and her cheeks pink, and
she would feel sure of the painted monkey,
and of a ball with a rubber string, and
sometimes she even believed in the possi-
bility of a small china doll finding its way
into the Farrell household. In those rare
moments of confident faith she went so
far as to declare the china one should
surely be called Angelica.

The sweetest moments, though, were
those precious ones when she and some
other little mothers like herself had got
their charges into bed, and could meet
one another on the dark stairs, and, hud-
dling close, with arms about waists, and
skirts turned up over heads and shoulders
to keep off the cold, could chatter like so
many chilly magpies.

They talked endlessly of Christmas, de-
scribing how they thought Santa Glaus
looked; and it was really surprising to
know by wh& ^ a wonderfully narrow chance
each one of them had just missed seeing
the mysterious old man. Then they would
warm their starved little hearts by playing
"I choose," each one choosing what she

162

*' MARTY MANY-THINGS"

I ■■

?;■■

would have out of Santa Clauses pack, if
sue could. And Marty Many-Things al-
ways began with a monkey on a stick for
William Henry, and some "for-true" white
bibs with trimming on the edges for
Catharine Anne — which went far to prove
that Marty was not without a sense of the
fitness of things. And for her mother a
bottle of cologne, and a new back-comb,
and a picture of a saint. And for herself
a china doll, and— only because it was
playing "choosing," you know— a little
work-box with for-true scissors and
thimble, and perhaps a dish or two. And
so on and on until their eyes shone from
excitement. And poor little Marty Many-
Things, in her place at the foot of the
family bed, among the six lashing feet of
her mother and the children, was prone to
dreanr., in feverish snatches of slumber,
that she was sleeping in a livery- stable.

At first Mrs. Farrell had encouraged
Marty to believe that Santa Claus would
visit them— of course, with the historic
proviso " if vou are good." But then Mr.
Farrell had, according to his wife, "laid

■-^

''MARTY MANY-THINGS"

163

?k, if
s al-
ii for
vhite
J for
irove
►f the
her a
5omb,
erself
, was

little
and

And

from
^lany-
>i the
eet of
)ne to
mber,
ble.

raged
would

storic

n Mr.

" laid

about him with too hea,vy a hand," and
had been put away. And, somehow, after
that she had not seemed so sure about
Santa Clauses visit, and while all the neigh-
boring children's hopes grew stronger, day
by day Marty's grew fainter, until that
dreadful morning when her mother, with
her thin face turned to the wall, had said
to her : " Martha Jane, Santa Glaus can't
get to us here ; there 's no chimbly for him
to come down— nothing but long pipe-
things, with tin caps on top of 'em."

And poor little Marty had laid Catharine
Ann down on a pillow a moment, and had
gone to the kitchen, and buried her face in
the roller-towel, and cried and cried till
she was fairly sick over the disappoint-
ment and sorrow and shame. Yes, shame ;
for he would visit every other child in the
street, siie felt sure. And oh, poor little
William Henry ! Oh, what should she ever
do? And then an idea came to her, and
she stopped crying to look at it and turn
it over, and as it seemed a good, sensible
idea, she acted on it at once.

First, putting on her hat and unlined

'^'

164

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

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V

old jacket, and pulling up her stockings
I iooth and tidy, she got a sock of
Catharine Anne's, a stocking of William
Henry's, and one of her own, and rolling
them neatly up as she went, she descended
into the bleak and windy street, turning
toward the house of Mrs. Whalley.

She was a big woman with a big temper,
"who might have been called a common scold
had she not been such an uncommon one.
She kept lodgers, and they called her the
" Sergeant." She had many children, and
they called her the "Kicker." And in
spite of all her scolding and storming, not
one of them obeyed or would do the least
thing for her. So many and many a time
she had sent little Marty Many-Things
(with Catharine Anne sagging like a bag
of meal over her shoulder) down to the
baker's shop for bread or rolls, and in re-
turn had given her— nothing ; no, not ^ven
thanks. Many messages, too, had the
tired child carried. And now in this
trouble, when the " idea " had pointed
toward Mrs. Whalley, Marty felt she had
a sort of right, an earned right, to ask

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

165

the

a small favor from her. But when she
reached the house her courage failed her.
She stood by the ash-barrel, hei^itating^
shivering, and was just turning away
when she raised her eyes and saw what a
splendid chimney the house had; then,
sending up one timid prayer to — to— oh, to
the saints,— for in that moment of fright
she could not have said the name of any
saint that ever was canonized,— she scram-
bled up the steps and rang the bell.

Perhaps that frightened little prayer for
courage may be fluttering about still
among the gentle throng, trying to find
which particular saint it belongs to.

When Mrs. Whalley threw open the
door, Mcirty gasped before she could speak.

" Well ? " roared Mrs. Whalley. " What
do you want? Don't stand there like a
dying fish! "

And Martha Jane lifted her white face
and frightened gray eyes, and said : " You
see, Mrs. Whalley, if you please, ma'am, we
ain't got no chimbly at our house, and
Sarta Claus can't get down to us, and so,
as you 've got a big family, and plenty of

166

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

if.

chimbly room, I 've brought round our
three stockings. Tliey 're quite clean, and
I mended 'em myself— and— and perhaps
you '11 just let 'em hang in the room with
your children's stockings! I can call
around for 'em quite early in the morning
—and— and— "

Her dry little lips could not form an-
other word, for Mrs. Whalley was swelling
up so visibly with rage, she seemed likely
to explode at any moment— a possibility
too dreadful to await calmly.

" Well," she cried, " of all the outrageous,
brazen little beats I ever lieerd of, you 're
the worst ! You get right out of here, now !
I have n't got nothing to give, and if I
had—"

" Oh," hurriedly interrupted Marty, " if
you please, Mrs. Whalley, you did n't get
on to what I said. I did n't come to beg
—I only ast you to let our stockings hang
by your chimbly ; Santa Glaus will tend to
'em, if he can only find 'em."

" A->d I 'd like to tend to yon, you art-
ful Kttlo fraud, trying to pull the wool
eye« w th your blather about

>0Vo

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"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

1G7

Santa Claus. Just as if tliero ever was
any—"

A sudden cough and a sharp exclama-
tion stopped her. They both looked up,
and saw standing on the stairs Mrs. Whal-
ley's best lodger, a singer in one of the
East Side theaters. Her true name was
Jane Bruce, but on the bills she was
" Mademoiselle Jeanette de Beuse," which
had been quickly rendered by the children
of the street into " Jenny the Goose."

She stood with her lemon-yellow hair
all a-frizz, her pretty blue eyes lined
about with India ink, and her extravagant
good clothes topped oft* with some sort
of sealskin jacket— stood frowning and
shaking her head at Mrs. Wh alley. So
much Marty saw ; then with bowed he I
she left the house, while her tears plas^ I
down on the rolled-up stockings in jr
hand.

Back in the hall she had left, M' de
Beuse was giving Mrs. Whalley a *' good
setting down " for her cruelty, and as she
came to the door to see what dire, ^t ion
Marty had taken, there were tears in her

1G8

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

.•i 11

' w*

black-lined eyes. She knew so well the
hard, grim, hopeless life led by the little
mother; knew she had never even seen
the pearly depths of the foxglove or the
morning-glory, let alone the wee fairy folk
who live in them; knew her pavement-
weary feet had never felt the delicious
chill of salt-pool wading, or the warmth
of the fine, sun-scorched sand; and she
felc that all the romance, mystery, and
beauty of Marty's whole childhood blos-
somed out in her sweet faith in Santa
Claus ; and she resolved to help her, if she
could, in her great trouble. And so, as
Marty crept slowly homeward, there came
a tapping of high heels behind her, a rustle
of silk, and a puff of perfume; and then
Jenny the Goose was beside her and was
talking to her. But when she invited
Marly to hang her stockings in her room,
Marty shook her head and answered:
" No, thank you, ma'am ; 't would n't be
no use; Santa Claus would n't go near
'em there."

And, for some reason, Miss de Beuse got
very red in the face as she asked why he

i:i

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

1G9

would not come to her room. But Marty
explained that he " never went into any
one's chimblv" if there were no children
to visit ; he did n't care about big people.

And then a thought came to Jenny
the Goose of a pale-faced little girl who
boarded away up-town, who would surely
be remembered by Santa Claus, but who
would be very lonely with only her toys,
and no playmate and no mama to keep
her company,— a happy thought, too, since
it was for the happiness of others,— and
she said: "I 've got a little l^pI— yes,
that 's straight; you need n't stare so!
Her name is Ethel Gladys Smith. I am—
at least, I was Mrs. Smith before I went on
the stage ; and I board her out. But let 's
see ; three days— yes, I can do it. I '11 send
for her, and I '11 let Santa Claus know she
is coming here, and— and you '11 bi'ing in
all your stockings on Christmas eve, and
you can hang them up yourself, if you
want to, beside Ethel's, right close to the
open grate ; and the next morning you can
come as early as you like and get them
again. But I want you to ask your mother

170

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

n::

!'■

. t

to let you come and play with my little
girl while I am at the theater, as I dare
not leave her all alone. Do you think you
can manage that t "

And Marty, who had come to a com-
plete standstill, amazed and doubting,
hoarsely whispered: "Yer — yer ain't
playin' it on me, are yer, miss I It ain't
no job?"

"No; 1 mean every word, fair and
square. Does it go ! "

And Marty swallowed at the lump in
iier throat, and clasped her hands tightly
in her effort at self-control— then suddenly
gave it all up, and right there upon the
public sidewalk dropped on her sharp
little knees, flung her thin arms about
Miss de Beuse's waist, and kissed her gar-
ments passionately, crying in a smothered
voice : " Yes, 'm ; yes, 'm, it goes ! Yes,
I '11 bring the stockings, sure, sure ! "
- And Miss de Beuse picked her up, with
a laugh, and told her to hurry home, or
she 'd have a crowd about them in another
minute.

How Marty Many-Things lived through

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

171

the next two days, doing all her work and
taking care of the children, she herself
could not have told. But after she had
handed in the roll of stockings at Miss de
Beuse's door, modestly leaving it to her
to hang them, that Christmas eve as she
ran home she felt little cold, soft touches
on her face, and she saw myriads of wee
white snowflakes dancing like mad in the
gas-rays, and she laughed aloud at the
unusual sight. When she got home, she
proceeded to ti^ansform the wash-tub into
a bath-tub by simply removing the wash-
boaixi^ -|K>verty being very cunning in
such devices,— and after her bath she went
to bed, to give her mother a chance to
wash her dress. For was she not to meet
and play with Ethel Gladys to-morrow?
l*o-morrow! Oh, would to-morrow ever
come? And Marty turned and twisted
and flung herself about in bed, till Mrs.
Farrell was driven to say, out of the dark-
ness : " Martha Jane Farrell, if there was
more than one Christmas in the year, there
would n't be a whole bone left in our
bodies from the yammerin' of your two

hll

172

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

(> J

hard heels ! Be quiet, now, or put your
feet outside the bed and kick I For all I
know, Catharine Anne may be dead this
minute from your lashin's I "

But morning did come at last, and even
Mrs. Farrell gave vent to a long-drawn
" Oh ! " as she looked out on the beautiful
white city, and murmured low, " It is the
birthday of our Lord ! " and crossed her-
self and said a prayer,

Marty Many-Things, with an old pair of
her mother's stockings drawn over her
shoes as a protection from the snow,
waded through the white depths to Mrs.
Whalley's house, and up to Miss de Beuse's

room, and then —

Mrs. Farrell was preparing the poor
breakfast, when she raised the knife from
the loaf she was cutting, and paused to
listen. Then she threw open the door and
ran into the hall. Yes ; she heard the cry,
" Mother ! " and then again, " Mother ! "
and leaning over the balusters, she saw
far below Marty Many-Things, with the
skirt of her dress turned up in front, seem-
ingly full of something. And as she clam-

I : ^'

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

173

bered up the stairs, she cried at intervals,
" Mother ! oh, mother ! " She stumbled in,
white with excitement, and nearly breath-
less, and, dropping her skirt, spilled upon
the floor four stockings and two socks, and
each and every one of them was as stiff as
a ramrod, and had humps and lumps all
over them, so full they were of —what ?

Marty caught her mother's hand and
pointed in speechless joy at a protruding
fiery-red monkey on a yellow stick. And
then the Farrells m a body descended
upon the gorged stockings, and wild con-
fusion reigned. But when Marty found a
doll, not a china one the length of her
finger, but a true doll, flexible in the body,
with hair she could comb, and eyes that
slowly closed as you laid it down, she
seated it gently in a chair, knelt down be-
fore it, and holding its stubby feet between
her chapped and reddened little hands, she
murmured again and again, "Angelica!
oh, Angelica ! " while a very passion of
love and tenderness for the beautiful help-
less thing grew so big in her heart that
from very joy she burst into tears.

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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174

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

Then Mrs. Farrell dragged them from
their prey, and seated each one of them
soHdly, not to say violently, on a chair,
and bade them eat their breakfast, or
they 'd not have one candy-stick or orange
that blessed day.

Next, a man who was going to "the
island " to visit his brother called for the
two picture-papers and roll of tobacco that
Mrs. Farrell wished to send to the " put-
away " Mr. Farrell ; and then it was time
for Miss de Beuse to go to the matinee, and
Marty must go to keep Ethel company.
She wore the same old clothes, but Mrs.
Farrell comforted herself by saying that
at least she was whole and clean, from the
skin out.

It was the first time that Marty Many-
Things had ever gone out to play with-
out dragging the children along, and she
looked anxiously at them before starting ;
but William Henry was making the tor-
mented red monkey dash madly up and
down his stick, while the bright toy balloon
tied to her wrist was bringing a faint
smile across the aged face of Catharine

,*;'i

"MARTY MAXY-THINGS"

175

Anne. And never had Marty loved her
mother so dearly as she did at that mo-
ment, when she handed out one of Cath-
arine Anne's flannel blankets to wrap
about Angelica, who went along, of course
—Marty remarking, as she pinned her up
warmly, " Snow weather 's so hard on
children ! "

That was a blissful day. Ethel Gladys
was a sickly little thing, but gentle; and
Marty watched in dumb admiration while
the little girPs clever fingers made a won-
derful hat for Angelica from a few bits of
ribbon and wire ; and she put one of her
bracelets on Marty's arm, and they played
everything, nearly. And when it was
time for Marty to go home— then came
the great surprise. Miss de Beuse had
stopped on her way from the matinee, and
made arrangements with Mrs. Farrell, and
she and the children were to come to Miss
de Beuse's room and stay with Ethel until
the theater was out at night, and then
they were all to have a little supper to-
gether.

Oh, that supper! Could Marty ever

176

"MARTY MANY-THINGS"

■. i

I; ■

•(J«

n i

forget it? Oysters— yes, oysters, and
plenty of them! and sandwiches with
pinky and white and dark meats ; and red
jellies and yellow jellies; and little wee
cakes ; and oh ! one big all-over- white cake
with a wreath around it and red berries ;
and a little bottle of wine— for- true, actual,
honest w^ine- with a red ribbon all twisted
about it. And they laughed ; and Miss de
Beuse sang them songs; and even Mrs.
Farrell herself sang " I 'm Sitting on the
Stile, Mary '' ; and Marty and Ethel sang a
hymn. And Miss de Beuse gave every one
a tiny, tiny glass with a thimbleful of
wine, and they all stood up and drank to
the health of Santa Glaus; and William
Henry, who had seen his father doing some-
thing like that, suddenly shouted : " For
he 's a jolly good fellow ! " '' -

And so the party broke up, and Miss de
Beuse, very pretty, stood at the window
with her arm about Ethel, kissing her hand
to them. And they walked home through
the snow, with the air full of the tinkling
of sleigh-bells, and every opening door lot
out laughter and song. And up in the

vim

''MARTY MANY-THINGS"

177

sky the stars glittered far and pure and
beautiful. And Catharine Anne sagged
peacefully over her mother's shoulder, and
William Henry stumbled at her left, while
Marty walked happily at her right, clasp-
ing Angelica closely to her breast. At last
she sighed : " Oh, mother, there ain't any-
body in the whole world as good as Santa
Claus, is there ? "

And Mrs. Farrell said : " I don't know ;
I suppose not " ; then added, after a long
pause : " But I do know that angels don't
always have wings on their backs."

And Marty wondered who in the world
her mother meant; but she did not ask
—she was such a happy, happy Marty
Many-Things.

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

i.t

;i-

■

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I; H

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

jT was an evil clay, cold, bleak,
and drear; and in an npper
chamber of the building once
his palace, now his prison, sat
a man who waited; and even while he
waited patiently for the coming of those
who were the precious fruit of his loins,
so another waited for him— patiently or
impatiently we may not know, since he
who waited for his children was Charles I,
King of England, while he who waited for
him was Death, king of the world.

The evil day grew on apace. At last
the waiting man's thin hands fell upon his
open Bible, the last faint spark of hope
faded from his famished eyes. And then it
was he heard heavy steps upon the stairs,
and a quick exchange of rough greetings
in the corridors. The door was thrown
open, and a man-at-arms, stooping, placed

182

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

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• I

what seemed two good-sized bundles of
rough, damp cloth upon the threshold.
But from the top of one, from under waves
of pure blond hair, beamed a pair of eyes
wondrously like his own, while from the
other peered, mischievous and marmot-
like, the tiny, brown, laughing visage of
the queen- mother's self.

The elder was Elizabeth, the younger
was James, princess and prince of the
blood royal. When eager hands had
solved the mystery of bow and tie and
buckle, cloak, hood, and tippet, they were
set free, in a limited sense ; for, be it known,
these innocents were prisoners, too, and
had been held in the north of England,
whence they had traveled, in this bitter
weather, to creep for the last time into
their father's arms.

Circulation being restored to their
numbed limbs, and their bodies warmed
and comforted with posset, the king held
them together in a close embrace. If his
tears washed their baby cheeks, he quickly
kissed them dry again, lest they should
know the bitterness of such tears as his.

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

183

^s of I And SO he sat for a little time in a sort of

lold. » joyous misery. Wee Elizabeth lay on his

raves } breast, her head back, her arms clasped

[eyes { about his neck, with rapture shining from

the her great eyes. The extraordinary aft'ec-

Imot- tion existing between the king and this

\q of little daughter was well known at court,

where it had more than once provoked
the jealous wrath of the queen-mother,
who had now, with her two elder children,
found refuge at the court of France.

Little James patted his father with ap-
proving hands, and covered his face with
kisses of prodigious sound. Only a little
time was given entirely to welcoming en-
dearments ; then came the curt reminder
of his guard : " The time is short ! "

Aye, the time was short ! His cup of life
was almost drained, and surely the dregs
were as aloes. The moment in which he
knew himself to have been sold for so
many pieces of silver by those who should
have stood by him— rightly or wrongly,
stood by him to the last— could not have
been so bitter as the one in which, fate-
driven, he looked into those laughing, lov-

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184

A LITTLE IIOYAL PRINCESS

ing oyes, and with his own words destroyed
their babyhood foi'ever.

But weary, worn, and sorrow-stricken,
in answer to that hint, " The time is
sliort ! " he placed his little visitors at
either knee, and gravely ho addressed
them— instructing, cautioning, advising,
on strangely serious questions to bring to
the attention of these poor mites— ques-
tions touching on religion, the rights of
succession, and the like. Unhappy little
children ! When they should have heard
and been taught only the tales and games
of childhood, they heard the tale of their
father's rapidly approaching, bloody death,
and were taught that game in the playing
of which their father had lost his throne—
the game of statecraft.

Little Prince James was volatile of na-
ture, restless and hard to hold to serious
application or attention. But the sister
was thoughtful beyond her years, and
adorably tender-hearted. She listened to
each low-spoken word with a white,
speechless, tearless anguish that seemed
like to kill her.

A LITTLE ROYAL I'HINCEHS

185

Ilaviiip; finally won tlio boy's atti ntion,
tlio kinjj: hastened to make him understand
his true position and liis real rights, and
tlio riglit of his elder brother Charles,
whom the queen had taken with her in
her iiight, and ended by receiving from
him a solemn I'romise never, nercr to
allow any one to make him king while his
elder brother lived— a promise little James
made with his chubby hands clasped upon
his father's Bible and his babyish lips
pressed upon its sacred pages. Then, be-
ing released at last, his attention quickly
turned to his Majesty's great plumed hat
lying near by on a chair. This hat he
swiftly donned, almost extinguishing his
bonny head in doing so, and proceeded to
assume many stately and majestic atti-
tudes. With hand on hip, where hung an
imaginary sword, and right arm extended,
he directed the movements of various
bodies of men, represented by pieces of
furniture. Poor little knight! while his
play went on, others in that room felt the
cold preserve of Death himself.

The kin^' took his suffering child into

186

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

his arms again, rocked her upon his breast,
covered her pale face and sealed her great,
strained eyes with tender kisses, and filled
her ears with every sweet, foolish, babyish
word of endearment they had known in
other days, and murmured over and over
again : " My little maid ! my bonny little
maid ! " until at last the stony stillness of
her face was broken, the strain gave way,
her little form was shaken by convulsive
sobs, and saving tears poured down her

w^an, white cheeks.

A little h^ter, when they were back again
in coat and cloak and hood and tippet,
she stood, pale and exhausted, holding
tightly the king's last, most precious, gift
to her,— his very own, own Bible,— and
watched with wistful eyes her father tak-
ing his last farewell, in this world, of his
little son— saw the kisses, heard the prayer
and blessing; and when the boy was
placed upon his feet again^ she drew
nearer, and the king was stooping to take
her up, when quickly he raised himself
and made this last request of them.
Gently, but very seriously, he asked them

f «

(

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

187

not to speak much of what had taken place
during this their last interview ; indeed, he
would prefer they should not speak of it at
all. And then Elizabeth made her strange
reply, unheeded then, but later on recalled,
repeated, and remembered for many a year.
Clutching his hand tightly in one of hers,
while with the other she held the Bible to
her breast, and looking straight into his
eyes, she said :

" Sire, I '11 speak no more ! "

The door was flung open. The men
waited but impatiently— a monarch so near
his death was not worth patient service.
And for the last time Charles took his
darling in his arms,— his comfort, as he had
often called her,— and held her close, and
laid his white, worn, sorrowing face on hers,
and suffered— only God and himself could
know how terribly. As she passed her
little arm about his neck, her hand slipped
beneath his heavy, falling curls and came
in contact with his smooth, strong throat.
At that touch there must have flashed
upon her a picture of the coming horror,
for she gave a sudden, gasping cry, and

188

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

tii

■'ii

lay unconscious, white and still. And so
they parted. The doomed man stood in
silence, and saw them carry his little ones
away; but when the men-at-arms bore
Princess Elizabeth down the stairs, with
trembling lips he murmured : " My little
maid ! my honny little maid ! " and her
wee white face, lying against the rough
leather jerkin, looked like a snowdrop
resting there.

All through the long black night the
children traveled north, and without con-
solation or comfort; for there was no
woman with them in whose pitying breast
they might have hidden their stricken
little faces.

There were short pauses, for food and
change of horses only, all the next dreary
day ; and yet, ere the next night had closed
down upon them— so much faster can a
horseman travel than a coach— they knew
the awful truth. Back there in sullen,
grimy London, the waiting was all over.
Charles had obeyed the summoning fin-
ger and bent the knee to Death. As king
he may have been weak, obstinate, deter-

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

189

,..■ i.

mined only at the wrong time, but as a man
he shone as an example for his country and
his eOcii't— a faithful husband, an adoring
father, a generous, loving, if too trusting,
friend. But we have naught more to do
with him, since all the world knows what
came to pass upon that last dreary Jan-
uary day in 1649.

"It was a trying journey," said one
who shared it. " The weather was hard
and rough. The roads were worse than
the weather, while worst of all was it to
watch those two poor bairns shivering
and sobbing in each other's arms. I 've
no great love for the Stuart blood, but I
was glad to see those orphans safely
housed after that heavy journey."

If a man, healthy and hearty, found it
a heavy journey, what must it have been
to those delicate little curled darlings of
the court, with grief and terror added to
physical discomfort ?

The next day after their return people
first noticed something odd in the de-
meanor of the princess. When the lady
wife of their keeper came to see the chil-

iiij

190

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

■J

; .1

I- 1

ri
m

dren, Prince James greeted her as usual,
while the princess rose and made her grave
obeisance, but spoke no word of greeting.
Solemn little mite ! The greatest painter
of his day has left your pictured loveliness
for us to gaze at. Such a little maid, in
long gown of stiff flowered brocade ; a waist
cut square at the neck, a tiny stomacher, a
string of pearls about the soft baby throat,
a small lace cap tied firm and close, but
with waves of hair tumbling from beneath
it; and ah! the eyes— the sweet, heart-
breaking, pathetic eyes ! Thus she looked
when standing mute before her keeper's
wife.

The interview soon ended, but ere long
those who had charge of the children re-
ported that the Princess Elizabeth was
refusing steadily to eat. There was then
another state visit, and when requests
proved useless, a threat was made that
food should be forced upon her. At this
the blood rose red in her mutinous baby
face, but she remained silent. Only, when
her porringer was placed before her, she
silently ate a portion of its contents. But
ever and always she was silent.

p*"

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

101

Those who were placed to watch related
that when the little James, in his romps
and plays, would suddenly burst into vio-
lent weeping, and rush to his sister and
tell her how he wanted mama or his fa-
ther, she would put her little arms about
him and kiss him many times, and smooth
his brow, and croon over him, but never
speak ; and by and by he would run away,
comforted. At night, in their little gowns,
she drew him down beside her, and they
knelt hand in hand; but while James
made his little prayer aloud, Elizabeth
never spoke.

Sometimes she was .« eized with a mortal
pallor and strange shiverings; but she
made no plaint nor moan. Again, her
cheeks were scarlet as with burning fever,
and her eyes bright and hot-looking ; and
though, when the hour of their serving
came, she drank ravenously, not one word
would she speak to obtain aught to quench
her burning thirst before the regular hour.
When little James was froward and got
himself a reprimand, he would fling away
to Elizabeth, and she would cosset him
and in her speechless ^ay would soothe

102

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

s 'I

and quiet him. But those who served
them became filled with fear of her. They
said she was " uncanny." Some said she
" communed with the dead." But one old
woman who came to peep at her made
answer: "Oh, can you no see the poor
bairn just eats her heart and drinks her
tears ? "

A doctor had been summoned, for the
people who held the children were in no
wise cruel to them. His coming was late
in the afternoon, and some time was given
to courteous greeting and explanation,
and then he was led to that portion of the
buildWg where the little prisoners were
lodged.

As they approached, a woman came
flying down the corridors. She was pale,
and cried excitedly : "Oh, come ! Pri-
thee, come ! "

As they hurriedly entered the room,
they first saw Prince James standing, with
convulsed face and streaming eyes, sob-
bing: " Now she won't kiss me. This long,
long time she has n't played. Now she
won't kiss me-^she won't ! "

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

193

Poor little lad ! No one noticed him or
his grief just then. They rushed toward
the chair which stood with its back to
them, and in it they found the Princess
Elizabeth. The window she faced was
high, and she had placed a large book and
a pair of cushions in the chair to raise her
up, that she might look from the window.
Thus she sat upon a sort of throne. Upon
her silken lap lay open the precious gift of
her adored father, the worn old Bible, and
her waxen, tiny hand lay on the printed
page. Her right elbow leaned on the table
at her side, and her dimpled chin rested in
her hando Her fair, blond hair fell on her
shoulders, and her great brown eyes looked
straight into the flaming glory of the sun-
set sky.

In stately silence she had given audi-
ence to Death. Not even his terrifying
presence could make her break her prom-
ise to her father : " Sire, I '11 speak no
more ! "

So she passed, without a father's kiss,
without a mother's breast to pillow her
dying head upon, without even the famil-

104

A LITTLE ROYAL PRINCESS

iar sound of her baby brother's laughter
in her ears.

So she passed— on weary, though pure,
unsuUied little feet— bravely, calmly,
gravely passed through the open door.
A little royal princess of England. God
rest her soul!

iter

are,

aly,

3or.

>0(1

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

In joining contrasts lieth lovo's delight

E had always been interested in
the frail little thing. They were
in the same row— the outer one
—of the same oval bed, that
was crowded with fellow-pansies, and he
was quick to notice that by the gardener's
carelessness the space between himself
and his right-hand neighbor was wider
than it should have been — a fact that an-
noyed him even then, and later on became
a source of real distress in his otherwise
quiet life.

This little right-hand neighbor seemed
to attract by her very weakness and slow-
ness of growth. He came, himself, of a
Dutch strain, and showed it in his sturdy
growth of stem, and the body and velvet
of his blossom. " King of the Blacks," he

" 197

108

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

was called, and really he deserved his
name— though one intensely dark purple
fellow who had been called "black" the
summer before remarked, somewhat ma-
liciously, that the title of "King of the
Blacks" would never pay Jiim for going
through life with a pinhead orange dot for
an eye— the purple one having himself
a very large and beautiful golden- yellow
eye with dark rays.

The King used sometimes to fear the
little maid at his side would never reach
maturity. If the sun was very strong she
shrank beneath the heat. If the rain fell
she would sometimes lie prostrate. And
those were the times when the distance
between them distressed him, for, as he
often told her, he could and would have
supported her, and at least partly sheltered
her with his broader leaves ; but as it was
he could only help her with his advice—
which, for a wonder, she gladly followed ;
and when she at last formed her flower-
buds, if a shower was imminent, he
would hurriedly warn her to turn those
delicate buds downward, that the water

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

100

might run off, and so savo tho tondorly
folded petals within from watery ruin.

Up to that time his feeling for her had
been simply the tender affection one is apt
to feel for the creature we help or pi tect,
and he had often looked back with a bold,
admiring orange eye at the many smiling,
little, mottled, banded pansies, who had
not hesitated one moment to nod at him —
for they are a generally coquettish tribe.
But one warm, still May morning, all this
was changed for the King of the Blacks ;
for there stood his slow-growing, frail
neighbor, holding up to his startled gaze
the sweetest, tenderest, truest little face
in all Pansydom.

She was not brilliant, nor velvet-
blotched, nor yet banded; just a lovely
porcelain blue of perfectly even tint, with-
out markings of any kind, the pure
color deepening into a violet eye, with that
speck of gold in the center that in a pansy
answers to the pupil of a human eye.

Looking upon this innocent beauty.
King of the Blacks was suddenly shaken
by a great passion of love and longing.

200

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

i f

.i ) '

He realized in that moment that she held
all the sweetness of life for him, just as he
saw the whole beauty of heaven reflected in
her small face. For one moment he en-
joyed the unalloyed bliss of his discovery ;
the next, alas ! brought to his knowledge
some of the tortures that invariably ac-
company true love. Was he, then, jealous ?
Of course. Who could see that small,
fierce orange eye of his, and doubt his
jealousy? And goodness knows he had
cause enough— but through no fault of
little Porcelain Blue's, mind you. She
adored him —was a- quiver with love from
the edge of her topmost petal to the tips
of her thread-like roots.

But think of that maddening space be-
tween them ! Do what they would, they
could not bridge it over. They looked
and longed, and longed and looked, but
only their sighs sweetly mingled. They
knew neither embrace nor kiss.

The King of the Blacks was a sturdy
fellow, and jealousy and disappointment
made his temper prickly, and sometimes
he wished many things of an unpleasant

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

201

nature upon the gardener, whose careless-
ness had caused so much suffering. Often
he cried out for a pest of mealy bugs or
slugs or snails to come upon his garden !
Once he went so far as to wish moles to
follow his footsteps beneath the lawn ; but
seeing how he had frightened Porcelain
Blue, he took that back, like the Dutch
gentleman he really was.

But it was hard to see all the winged
marauders buzzing about his gentle little
sweetheart, offering her the tattered com-
pliments they had offered to each floral
feminine they had met that day— to see
a great bumblebee, looking like a small
barrel with wings, go blundering so heavily
against her as to nearly knock her down !
But oh, worst of all, to see that butterfly
—that royally striped, banded, powdered,
idiotic flirt masculine!— to see him im-
pudently clinging to shy little Porcelain
Blue's shoulder, while he stole the precious
nectar from the sweet flower lips that
cried vainly for the King to drive him
away!

No wonder he grew ill-tempered. He

202

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

was SO helpless ! And what can be more
maddening than helpless strength? All
he could do was to urge Porcelain Blue
to call up her power of growing, and then
to direct that growth toward him, while
he cheered her up by calling her attention
to the extra long arm he was forcing for-
ward as rapidly as possible toward her—
knowing well that the lady mistress of
them all would much prefer his black,
velvety blossoms to such a growth of leaf
and stem ; but, true lover that he was, the
interests of his beloved came first with
him.

Then, too, the King of the Blacks had
much to endure from those about him.
He had never concealed either his love or
his distress, and there was much merri-
ment at his expense among the flowers of
his own bed, and the insects that daily
visited them. The tall, blond pansy on
his left— a white, satiny creature, blue-
edged and blue-eyed—was so annoyed at
his attentions to that little half -developed
" chit " on his right that she deliberately
twisted her neck in the most painful man-

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

203

ner, that slie might turn her face clear
away and so spite him ; but he never even
knew it. The other tpansies were so close
to one another that they smiled and
flirted, and put their bonny faces up and
kissed each other gaily in the full sunlight
and then laughed over their shoulders at
the King, who, black in the face i.rom
anger, was sure to be watching the cor-
seted, slim-waisted wasps hovering about
little Blue. He knew the visits of the
ants were particularly unpleasant to her;
they scratched her arms and shoulders so,
though they were very gallant and com-
plimentary, and stroked her face very
gently with their wiry, black fingers. In
fact, the pretty, kindly ladybugs were,
with one exception, the only visitors little
Blue really welcomed— the exception be-
ing a big red-breasted robin, whose quick,
bright eyes and sharp bill kept all worms
beyond frightening distance.

One perfect morning, when all the world
seemed made for love, the King of the
Blacks felt his heart was breaking. Little

204

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

Porcelain Blue drooped and hung her head
so sadly, while all the others were fairly
asway with laughter. And just then, warm
and sweet and strong, the West Wind
came blowing— the romping, teasing,
rowdy West Wind. Many a time had he
chucked the little one under her chin
and sent her petals into a wild blue
flutter ; and now he paused a moment, dis-
turbed at this sadness. Sadness in the
path of the West Wind ? Oh, no ; he would
not tolerate that I So back he drew a
space, gathered himself together, and then
made a laughing rush upon the lovers,
flinging with tender force young Porcelain
Blue full into the eager and clinging arms
of the King of the Blacks. Then, mis-
chievously bu nping their pretty faces to-
gether he, with rustling, fluttering, and
waving, went on his merry way, leaving
them to learn in peace the sweetness of
the flower kiss they had dreamed of in
bud beneath the stars, and had longed for
in full blossom under the blazing sun.
The work of the West Wind was done, and
was well done. Porcelain Blue was so en-

'- '

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

205

tangled in the strong arms of the King
that she remained there ; and if ho found
his heaven in her sweet face, she found
hers in his gentle strength ; and so happily
they lived their little space, and knew only
joy unalloyed.

Oae early summer day the following
year, the mistress stood looking down
with puzzled eyes upon a stranger in her
great bed of saucy, wide-eyed beauties, in
all their satiny, vr/' /ety gorgeousness.
She knew them all by name. There were
Kings This and Queens That, and War-
riors So-and-So, and French-stained and
German-blotched, and Somebody's Royal
Collection. But where did this stranger
come from, here in the outer row of the
big oval bed !

Down on his knees, the gardener expa-
tiated on the perfection of form and the
firmness of texture to be found in this beau-
tiful nameless blossom, that was upheld so
firmly by its sturdy stem.

"Pure porcelain-blue markings, that
give it an almost human smile,'' mur-

206

THE PRINCESS PORCELAIN

mured the lady ; " the markings of black-
est velvet, and that great red-orange eye.
Where have I seen that peculiar eye, and
where that pure, even tint of blue!
Why—"

And at the same moment the gardener
struck his earth-stained hands together,
exclaiming: "The King of the Blacks,
ma'am ! " while his mistress cried : " Por-
celain Blue ! " and the gardener finished :
"It 's the hoffspring of them two plants,
ma'am, as sure as you 're alive; and she
'as no name, poor thing ! "

" Oh, yes, she has," smiled his mistress.
" She is of royal parentage, and beautiful,
and she is called the 'Princess Porce-
lain ' " ; and to herself she whispered : " Ah,
love never dies! That is proved by the
existence here of Princess Porcelain."

li'

THE HERMITS

?■

THE HERMITS

IE was a slender, serious, dark-
eyed boy, and my close friend.
I called him " Hal," instinc-
tively feeling what a misfit
was the name Harry, by which his family
called him. I was proud of being his
chum, not only because he was a boy, but
because he was two or three years my
elder, and so, of course, was two or three
years the wiser.

He was no girl-boy. He raced, played
ball and marbles, ran away and went in
swimming, and took his thrashing for it,
just as other boys did ; but he was gentler
than they— he was imaginative and
thoughtful.

We were the only children living in that
direct neighborhood, which was a very
retired one, so that our companionship

209

210

THE HERMITS

s I

seemed the natural outcome of the situa-
tion. We were both "booky," we were
both Sunday-school enthusiasts, and he
was the son of an intensely religious
mother— a God-loving woman, with whom
prayer was a joy, not a duty ; who praised
her Maker because he had made her, and
in his own image; a woman who under
a great blow and loss had actually lifted
a smiling face and cried triumphantly:
" * Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth ' I
Whom he loveth— think of that ! And I,
the humblest of all this whole cityful of
people, to be chastened by his hand! I
am unworthy ! "

In this neighborhood the city had been
altering the grade of one of the streets,
and so had left on one side, as a high bank
of clay, three unimproved building-lots.
The moment my marauding eye fell upon
that bank, I cried : " Oh, Hal, if only there
was a hole in it ! ''

And he frowned and said: "A hole!
What good would that be ? "

" Why ! " I sputtered excitedly, " if the
hole was big enough, we could crawl into

THE HERMITS

211

it, could n't we! And it would bo caves
and grottoes; and we could be fairies, or
Robinson Crusoes, or hernits, or robbers,

or—

But Hal, who was an honest-minded boy,
interrupted me with decision: "Hermits,
Carrie. We 'd be hermits, and read the
Bible there, and eat dates— if they have
them at the grocery ! Let 's go see ; I 've
got a penny."

" But," I said, " there 's no hole yet ! "

And Hal answered calmly: "Not now
there is n't, but there 's going to be ; we '11
dig it right away."

Oh, that hole ! For days I walked like
an ancient crone stone-stiff with rheu-
matism. Hal toiled manfully, desperately,
with a small fire-shovel, minus handle.
But I, alas! for picking, digging, shovel-
ing, had no better tools than a kitchen
spoon and an old tin biscuit-cutter.
Never would that hole have been larger
than the inside of a big pail but for the
aid of a good-natured Irish laborer who
one day sat at the foot of "our cliff," as
we called it, to eat his noonday meal.

212

THE IlEUMITS

'1 -. I

Ilis great shovel di'ow us like a magnet,
and soon wo were asking aid.

" What do yez be wantin' a hole dug for,
then!" he mumbled, with a half-slice of
bread an inch thick in one cheek, and a
chunk of corned beef on the blade of his
knife, waiting at tlio very edge of his lips
for the earliest possible opening for itself.

" It 's to be caves, and we 're to be her-
mits,'' said I.

" What 's thim ? " asked our friend.

" Men," said Hal, " who don't wear much
clothing, and who sit in caves and read
the Bible and eat dates and think."

" Glory be ! " exclaimed the astonished
hearer. " They must be dumbed fools in-
tirely. Sure, don't they know a man can
read his Bible wherever he likes, and keep
all his clothes on if he plaises? But
come, now, and we '11 see to this hole."
And in a few minutes, with mighty arms
and immense shovel obeying his kindly
will, with throbbing hearts we saw our
cave growing, growing, until, oh, joy ! we
knew we could crawl into it. Then sud-
denly the work stopped.

}

THE IIEUMIT8

213

^hig for,

-slice of

, and ft

of his
iiis lips

)!' itself,
be her-

V much

d read

nished
•ols in-
in can

1 keep

But
hole/'
arms
indly
'' our
l we
sud-

" Oh, please, sir, won't you make it go a
little deeper in f ^ pleaded Hal.

But our friend answered profanely that
he would not ; and then lie hammered us
amicably on our heads, called us a " pair
of gossoons," and added tha- very likely
the "whole dumbed thing'' would cave in
on us if we did n't take care— a prognosti-
cation that troubled us not one bit.

As hermits we retired from the world
at once— that is, we retired as far as the
peculiarities of the cave would permit us
to. Our four legs were, unfortunately,
Tery palpably still in the world. But as
we sat well back in the hole, our bodies
were quite out of sight, and, as Hal de-
clared, we were ever* so much better off
than was the ostrich, with only its head
hidden.

And as we sat side by side, high up in
the face of the bank, we had a clear, far
view of the tender blue of the lake, where
it gently, gently melted against the blue of
the sky; and, with our own little Bibles
open on our laps, We used to look at it
silently a long time; and twice I over-

I —

ji I

i I

jl I
ill'

214

THE HERMITS

If !

heard Hal say low to himself: "Almost
like that, but not quite."

Once he pretended he had no,t spoken,
and once he did not even hear my question
of what he meant. And so I came to know
that his big brown eyes did not always see
me when they were turned upon me—
knew that my friend, my chum, my bro-
ther hermit, had a secret ; and so tears came
into the cave.

It was too bad, a secret kept from me!
And I had told him every secret I had,
and every secret anybody else had that I
knew anything about. He was quick to
see something was wrong, but he was quite
stupidly slow in learning what was wrong,
and I was too proud to ask for his confi-
dence. So the hermits were for a time
tempted to abandon their cave, their date
diet, and their intended close compar-
ative study of the writings of Buddha and
a Chinese gentleman of the old school to
whom I always referred as " that Mr. Con-
fusions."

We had, however, agreed to study our
Sunday-school lessons in our cave, and that

" Almost

o,t spoken,
y question
ne to know
always see
ipon me—
a, my bro-
tears came

; from me!
Tot I had,
had that I
s quick to
e was quite
i^as wrong,
r his confi-
for a time
, their date
;e compar-
►uddha and
i school to
a,t Mr. Con-
study our
i^e, and that

THE HEBMITS

215

simple fact saved our partnership a» her-
mits from being dissolved. We studied
our verses against time and each other.
Then we took turns at hearing each other
recite our lessons ; and one day I said sud-
denly : " Oh, how I do wish some one would
tell me how the apostles looked ! Somehow
I can't see them— at least, not to feel sure
of them."

And Hal gave a jump that nearly took
him out of the cave, and said quickly : " I
can tell you, Carrie. They looked exactly
like a— a—"

He stopped, he turned his head away,
he pretended some one was calling him.

Then I was angry. " That 's right ! " I
cried. "Stop, don't tell it, whates^er it
may be ! Don't trust Carrie— little tattler
and tale-bearer ! "

I leaned my forehead against the side
of the cave. I burst into racking sobs.

" K-e-e-p— keep your secret ! I d-d-don't
want to hear it ! And— and you can keep
your old cave, too— and pl-ay hermit all
b-y yourself— and nev-QV tell your se-cret
to any-body!"

216

THE HERMITS

Poor Hal ! he tried to whistle (the boy is
father to the man), but he could n't. With
his left hand he raised my head and laid
it back against his right shoulder. Then
he took up the corner of my apron, and
with most kindly intent began to smear
my falling tears all over my grieving,
dirty little face, while between dabs and
jabs at special single drops he begged
me to stop. "Oh, Carrie," he entreated,
" canH you stop ? Don't you know how to
stop I There 's no secret, Carrie ! There 's
s-o-m-e-thing— yes— I wanted to tell you,
too— honestly I did— but— but I was just
afraid you 'd laugh at me— and "—in a low,
tense tone— "I don't believe that I could
hear— to hear that laughed at."

I sat up and looked at him, and very
seriously he returned my look.

"Mother knows," he said slowly, "and
I 'm going to tell just you in all the world,
and no one else. I 'm not afraid now that
you '11 laugh, Carrie."

He drew up his leg and clasped his arms
about it. He looked straight before him.
His eyes were wide and bright; he was

bhe boy is
't. With
. and laid
di\ Then
pron, and
to smear
grieving,
dabs and
le begged
entreated,
ow how to
! There 's
3 tell you,
I was just
—in a low,
at I could

, and very

)wly; "and
the world,
d now that

d his arms
)efore him.
t; he was

THE HERMITS

217

very pale; his delicate nostrils quivered
faintly. There was a moment's pause.

Looking back to that moment, I tell
Hal's little story as he told it — all the in-
cidents in the exact order in which he gave
them.
Without turning his head he said to me :
"You remember how very hot it was
three Sundays ago, Carrie? Well, after
Sunday-school was out I went to church
with mother. The heat was dreadful,
and my head was heavy and achy.
Mother ofl^ered me a fan, but I wonld n't
have it — it never makes a feller any cooler
to sit and pound himself with a fan. But
all I could think of was the big old elm-
treo where we play * oasis,' and you sell me
water for my caravan from the desert.
I could j"st hear the leaves moving, and
I knew what a big coo] shade they were
making—and they all had their heads
down at prayer. No one would notice,—
and even if lather heard of it, he never
punished me on Sunday,— and it was only
three blocks to the elm ; and so I moved
very, very quietly— no one looked up. And

218

THE HERMITS

next moment I was blinking my eyes out
in the sunshine, and wondering if ever the
sun had blazed like that before.

"I walked for a while, but I found no
elm ; instead, there stood an old white wall
with a great wide-open gate in it. I passed
through it, and only then I noticed that
everything was strange to me. I was n't
frightened, but I was puzzled; and the
heat— oh!— and the sky— not one tini-
est, thinnest little skim of white cloud
filmtv*. the deep, deep blue. On still, hot
days our lake almost reaches that blue,
but not quite— not quite. I was thirsty,
very thirsty ; and though I passed melon-
gardens, and saw grapes hanging over a
wall, I dared not touch them. I looked
and looked, but could see no familiar elm,
and the chain of distant hills made me feel
small and lonely. Then suddenly I heard
a burst of laughter and the patter of run-
ning feet, and I turned, and saw coming
from a garden gate a troop of children,
the two eldest ones carrying large jars.
They were not only bare of foot, but of leg
as well, yes, and of arm— half naked, in

i I

THE HERMITS

219

^es out
ver the

and no
ite wall
[ passed
ed that
was n't
md the
le tini-
B cloud
till, hot
at blue,
thirsty,
. melon-
over a
looked
iar elm,
me feel
I heard
of run-
coming
children,
ge jars,
at of leg
aked, in

fact. They were a black-haired, black-
eyed, red-lipped, sweetly laughing crew;
and though they were greatly excited
over some matter of their own, they called
me gaily to go with them to the well,
where the water was cold and the grass
velvet-soft to burning feet. And there I
slaked my thirst and found deep shade,
though no elm cast it.

"There were trees strange to me, and
some bore fair fruit. I knew the oak and
guessed the palm, and on our way to the
well I had seen in full rosy bloom a very
thicket of wild oleander.

"We had found a girl already at the
well, and before she went she took from
her basket a handful of loose grain, pursed
up her lips, swelled out her round, brown
throat, and in imitation gave the cooing of
the doves, then cast the grain abroad. I
had not dreamed there was a pigeon near,
but instantly, through sunshine and
through shade, came the down-slanting
gleam of their darting, silveiy wings. Yet
no one noticed the pretty, greedy things,
with their rosy feet, their jeweled ?yes, and

, fl

i I

220

THE HERMITS

their dainty affectations of eager search
and extreme hunger— so exciting was the
conversation at the well.

" One boy declared his father was going
to take him down to the very sea, next
Siibbath, that they might hear the Man
for themselves, since no two people seemed
to talk alike of him; and then all broke
out and chattered at one time.

" Not far off ran, white in dust, the pub-
lic way, and many people journeyed by it ;
and many turned aside, as much to get the
hot, white dazzle from their eyes as for
rest for their feet and cooling di^aughts for
their parched throats. But always there
was excitement in the air, and each man
added to it. The high, the low, the rich,
the poor, gently or angrily, delicately or
coarsely, they spoke, but always of one
person. One subject held all minds.

"An old man, fat and red and hot-looking,
with great jewels burning on his fingers,
and strange head-gear, who left his ser-
vants and the animal he rode out in the
blazing heat while he sat in comfort by
the densely shaded well, declared the Man

I ^li

"wShk.^

THE HERMITS

001

search
vas the

s going
a, next
le Man
seemed
I broke

le pub-
i by it ;
get the
as for
^hts for
s there
3h man
le rich,
tely or
of one
s.

poking,
ingers,
is ser-
in the
ort by
le Man

a monstrous fraud. *0h, yes; he had
heard the tale of sight restored, and the
sick healed, too. Yes, yes ; he knew that
hundreds vouched for the truth of those
wild tales. But, mark! He should be
seized and cast in prison for healing on
the Sabbath! The Sabbath, mind! —
breaking the law— failing to keep holy the
Sabb^tih day. Let him and his rabble
come but within his city's gates, and
straight into prison the lawbreaker would
go.' And as he bestrode his weary, unre-
freshed beast and went his way, men
frowned, and jeering little boys made con-
temptuous signs at his broad back, while
talk, all broken and confused, burst forth
again— one rousing astonishment by re-
peating the names of those most recently
baptized; another expressing his timid
doubts because, see you, the Man had
not appeared in pomp and princely state,
as should the One whose coming the pro-
phets had foretold ; while, with her sturdy
boy riding in state astride her hip, a
handsome woman told again, and yet
again, with every foolish detail of hour

222

THE HERMITS

and place, of garments worn, of height
and depth and quality of the jars, how
she, a guest at that fair marriage-feast,
had seen— herself had seen— the won-
drous miracle of water turned to wine.

"The loiterers had mostly gone their
ways, all save some women with their
water- jars and their children. And now,
in looking across the open country toward
some houses, low, flat-roofed, and white,
one saw the quivering of the air above the
heated earth; and 't was then, just then,
that I felt first that lightness, that bright-
ness, that reasonless desire to laugh, to
sing— oh, to sing from my very heart !

" My heart ! why, what ailed my heart?
I pressed my hands hard upon my side to
hold down its high beating, and at that
moment such a strange thing happened!
I had only known our summer birds to
sing in the early moaning or late evening
coolness, remaining silent through the
heat ; yet here, all suddenly, birds before
unseen burst forth in rapturous song.
They came from everywhere— from distant
eaves, from sheltering boughs, from tan-

THE HERMITS

223

leight

;, how

-feast,

won-

wine.

their

now,

)ward

w^hite,

VG the

then,

right-

?h, to

leart ?

ide to

that

ned!

ds to

ening

the

efore

song.

stant

tan-

gled thicket, or from grassy hollow. They
flung into the air, as might a fountain
fling its spray, a shower of living music.
Twittering, piping, trilling, warbling, each
softly ruffling throat at fullest strain, each
little eye half closed in ecstasy, they
gave in praise all they had to give, then
sank down in silent adoration. For mov-
ing toward us from the great highway
there came a group of men. One of them,
at least, walked clumsily, for he was fol-
lowed by a great cloud of dust ; and one
shambled as he came, as might a weary,
yoke-worn ox. Grave men they were,
some even stern and fierce of eye, with
roughened hair and beards untrimmed,
and hands all swart and scarred and
stained with roughest labor; while all
the tones of burnished copper glowed in
the hair and beard of one, and the red
spark that gleamed in his quick, small eye
was but partly veiled by his drooping lids.
"So far I noted. Then— ah, then the
group had paused, and from the center
there came forth, as from a prickly protect-
ing outer shell the white, sweet-kerneled

224

THE HERMITS

nut might come— there came forth a Man,
strong and sweet, beautiful and grave.
The golden-bruwn waves of his hair were
darker than the silky beard, whose light
growth but softened the lines of his di-
vinely perfect face. His garments fell in
stately folds about him, and their white-
ness, without blemish from wayside or
from road, seemed dazzling in contrast to
the blueness of his great flowing mantle.
Yes, there came forth a Man to marvel at.
But as he moved toward the stone seat by
the well, he slowly raised his eyes. The
quivering of the hot air stilled ; the teem-
ing earth held its warm breath in awe.
My soul rushed to the very parting of my
lips, for this was the Joy of the World !
Here was the Son of God! I could not
think at first— I could only feel the joy,
joy, joy ! And then at last I noted others,
and knew my thought was : * Would— oh,
would he let me follow him V If I could
do some service for him— something hard !
But I was so little, yet.

"He was seated by the well, and the
group stood apart from him and spoke

THE HERMITS

225

low among themselves ; and I almost un-
consciously began to approach the Man:
for "^ I longed, yearned, to touch him—
once, jUst once, to see once more the
tender fire of those death-conquering eyes.
And lol the other children were crowd-
ing toward him, too— their eyes big and
bright, their half-breathless lips apart. I
saw and hastened. I was almost beside
him when a little toddling, speechless
thing of dimples and soft laughter passed
me in a baby rush, two little arms beating
the air to aid her stumbling feet. She
wavered forward, caught his hand, and he
laid the wee thing in his bosom. At that
we all swarmed forward eagerly ; but two
of the group stepped quickly out and
frowningly waved us off, the stern one
speaking cruel words to us. But they were
never finished. He raised the white
wonder of his hand and silenced them.
He turned the tender fire of his luminous
blue eyes on us, and then he spoke.

" I heard his voice ! I felt that my eyes
were straining, my heart bursting— that
joy was killing ; but still 't was joy. For,

226

THE HEItMITS

i 1

clear and sweet, the whole world listen-
ing heard the blessed words : * Suffer little
children to come unto me, and forbid them
not!'

" He held his gracious arm out to us. I
rushed forward. I was almost at his sacred
knees— a hand held me back. The baby in
his blessed breast smiled gravely at me.
I struggled madly against that restraining
gi.isp, and then a voice said in my ear:
* Hairy, remember where you are I '"

His head sank on his breast ; tears ran
like rain down his boyish face.

"Carrie, Carrie," he whispered, "mo-
ther says it was— was— just a dream."

I slipped my arm about his neck; rev-
erently I kissed his cheek and answered:
"Hal, Hal, it was a vision— a blessed
vision ! "

And he was comforted.

ston-
little
:hem

IS. I

cred
)yin
me.
ling
ear:

ran

mo-
rn.''
•ev-
ed:
sed