EMORY UNIVERSITY
JOCKO CLIMBING.
A SERIES OF NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, BIOGRAPHIES, AND TALES,
FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT
OF THE YOUNG.
BY
«0M*©[B ^[B®(Q)TTa
tnxtjr
NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS,
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-four, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-seven, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
PREFACE.
This book contains the history of a little Italian boy, who left
Europe with his father and mother to come as emigrants to Amer¬
ica. He met with a great many sad and sorrowful adventures on
his way, and the reader of the Story may learn from it the lessons
of calmness and composure in danger, of patience and fortitude in
suffering, and trust in God in times of dark despondency. It is
true that Carl had Jocko to help him and to amuse him, but his
chief reliance, after all, was upon the overruling hand of Divine
Providence, and upon his own calm consideration and forethought,
and the firm and steady perseverance with which he pursued the
end which he had in view.
By following his example in these respects when you enter
yourselves, hereafter, upon the serious struggles of life, you will
almost certainly succeed in the end, and you will, at any rate, be
cheered, and sustained, and comforted through all the disappoint¬
ments, trials, and sufferings that you will encounter on the way.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SOME ACCOUNT OF CARL 13
II. A VISIT 28
III. TROUBLE AT SEA 38
IV. THE END OP THE VOYAGE 52
V. AMERICA 75
VI. THE FLAGEOLET 91
VII. 'THE TRAIN 106
VIII. A GOOD LODGING 121
IX. VERMONT 137
X. CONCLUSION 149
ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
jocko climbing Frontispiece.
carl 13
jocko drawing water 23
the sea 28
carl in the state-room... 31
the light-house 38
rosa 52
getting ashore 70
the tub 75
the flageolet 91
toll-house.... 106
mart 121
trying to teach jocko 127
jocko drinking 137
evening 149
CARL AND JOCKO.
CHAPTER X.
THE SHIP.
The appearance of Carl. His early home. Seeking a fortune.
/"1ARL was an Italian boy, and Jocko was his monkey. Carl
^ was a very pretty boy. He had large, dark eyes, and black,
glossy hair. His face was rather pale,
but this was partly in consequence of the
hard life he had led.
Carl was born at the foot of the Alps,
on the sunny side of them—that is, on the
side toward Italy. Grapes grow there,
and figs, and other delicious fruits in rich
profusion, but the grapes and the figs be¬
long all to the men who own the lands on
which they grow. Carl's father had no
OA.J.. land, and he found it very difficult to get
enough for his wife and little Carl to eat; so he determined to
go with his wife and son over the Alps to France to seek his for¬
tune, as a great many other poor Italian men had done before him.
There are a great many children, too, that go in this way with
their fathers into France and England from Saxony and Piedmont,
14
THE SHIP.
Poor children earning money. The passengers upon the Bteamer.
and various other countries about the foot of the Alps. When
there, they try to earn their living in very curious ways. Some,
particularly the smallest of them, become chimney-sweeps. Oth¬
ers go about the streets singing songs, or playing upon a tambour¬
ine, or exhibiting a monkey to amuse the children in the houses,
hoping that the people whose children are amused will throw them
out a penny or two from the window. Sometimes the people do,
and sometimes they do not.
Often the parents of these poor boys and. girls die, and then the
children are left to take care of themselves, and a very hard time
do they have of it. A lady has just related to me a little incident
which happened to her in Paris last summer, which illustrates
this. Her relating it to me was entirely accidental, for she did
not know that I was going to write the story of Carl and Jocko.
She was lying on her sofa at the time in her state-room on board
the steamer Persia, in which we are making the voyage to Europe
together. Her state-room was very near to ours, and we often
visited each other during the course of the voyage, as is customa¬
ry among the passengers on board the Atlantic steamers.*
The incident which she related to me was this : She was walk¬
ing one day on one of the quais at Paris, f Her husband was
with her. He, having occasion to make some small purchases,
stepped into a shop, leaving the lady to walk slowly along upon
the sidewalk until he should come out. She saw some object in
* You can see a view of one of these steamers on page 31.
t A quai is a strefet along the bank of a river. It has houses and shops on one
side, and a low wall separating it from the water on the other.
THE SHIP.
15
The Italian boy in Paris. The lady's gift. What the boys bought.
a shop-window which attracted her attention, and she stopped to
look at it. While she was thus looking, she felt something gently
pull her cloak. She looked round, and saw one of these little
Italian "boys standing near and holding out his hand as if to beg.
At the same time, he looked anxiously up and down the street, to
be sure that no policeman was near; for begging is forbidden in
the streets of Paris, and all persons found violating the law are
taken up by the police, and sent to some poor-house or house of
correction. The poor child looked so wan and woe-begone in his
misery that the lady pitied him, and she put her hand in her pock¬
et and took out a sou and gave it to him.
A sou is a French coin of about the size and value of a cent.
The boy seemed overjoyed at his good fortune, and immediate¬
ly ran off with his sou round the corner.
In a moment, however, he reappeared, bringing with him two
other boys as poor and miserable as himself, and they held out
their hands to the lady. She took out two more sous from her
pocket, and gave each of them one. Then all three of the boys
ran off again, with their faces full of joy and pleasure.
The lady walked slowly on, but before she had taken many
steps she saw the boys all coming back again, each with a small
roll of bread in his hand, which they had bought with their sous.
They held up these rolls to the lady to show her what they had
done with the money, and thanked her again by their smiling looks
for her kindness in giving it to them, and then went away.
Carl was such a boy as one of these.
When he went over the Alps into France, his father and moth-
16
THE SHIP.
The musical company. Why Carl'a father wished to go to America.
er went with him, and they wandered about together for several
years. Carl's father played upon the violin, and his wife sang to
accompany him. This was to make music in the streets in order
to please the children at the windows of the houses. Besides the
music, they had 'Jocko. Jocko was a very funny monkey, and
his dancings and caperings made the children laugh. Carl took
care of Jocko. He held the end of the cord which was fastened
around him to prevent him from running away. Then, after the
song was ended and the children had seen Jocko as much as they
wished, Carl would hold out his cap for the money which they
were to give him, and he brought the money to his father.
Sometimes there would be a ring formed round Carl's father
and mother and the monkey in the street, and then Carl would
go around and collect the money in his cap. At other times peo¬
ple would throw the money out from the windows, and it would
fall upon the pavement. Then Carl would run about and find it,
and pick it up.
All the money that Carl's father gained in this way he saved—
all but just enough to buy what was necessary for his family to
eat day by day. He was saving this money in hopes to get
enough to pay for the passage of them all to America.
"If we can only get to America," he said to Carl, " we can do
very well. There is plenty of land there, and I will get some and
become a farmer. Then we shall have a house to live in of our
own, instead of roaming about in this way, houseless wanderers
from town to town."
" I shall like that," said Carl.
THE SHIP.
17
Carl goes to London to learn the English language.
"And then, besides," said his father, "you can go to school
there and learn; and so, instead of Being poor and miserable all
your life, as you must be here, you will have as good a chance as
any other American boy to grow rich and to become a gentleman."
" I shall like that too," said Carl.
" Only first," said his father, " you must learn the English lan¬
guage."
"Yes, sir," said Carl, "I will learn it as fast as I can."
Carl's father concluded to go to England, so as to give his boy
an opportunity to begin to learn the English language before go¬
ing to America. He remained a year or more in London, and
during that time he earned so much as to complete the sum ne¬
cessary to pay the passage of all his family to America. At length,
when the time came, he took passage on board a packet-ship, and
when the day of sailing arrived they went on board, Jocko and all.
. The ship that they went on board of lay in the docks in Lon¬
don. These docks are immense basins dug out of the ground
and walled up round the sides. They are large enough to hold
hundreds and hundreds of ships. The people made these docks
because there was not room enough for the ships in the river.
Of course, there are passage-ways from the docks to the river.
These passage-ways are shut by great gates when the tide goes
down, and this keeps the water in the docks high, so as to float
the shipping within all the time.
The ship in which Carl's father took passage was pulled out of
the docks, when the time came, by means of a strong hawser fasten¬
ed at one end to an immense iron ring built in the pier. The oth-
99 B
18
THE SHIP.
Setting sail for America. What Jocko thought about the rigging. The voyage.
er end of the hawser was wound around the capstan, and the sail¬
ors, by turning the capstan * drew the ship along. When the ship
got into the river the sails were hoisted, and she sailed away down
the stream "between double and triple rows of steamers, ships,
barges, and vessels of all sorts, which lined the shores. As the
ship moved slowly along, Carl gazed at the forests of masts with
amazement. He wondered where such an immense multitude of
vessels could have come from, and where they could be going.
Jocko all this time sat perched upon the rigging near Carl. He,
too, was looking at the shipping. He thought that the masts
were trees growing along the banks. The yards and spars he
supposed were branches, but what the ropes were he could not tell.
The ship sailed down the river, and then came out to the open
sea. She then turned to the southward, and passed through the
Straits of Dover, and so down the English Channel, along the
southern shore of England, until she reached Portsmouth. Here
she stopped to take on board the lady and gentlemen passengers
who had come down from London across the country to meet her.
If you look at the map, you will see that to go down the Thames
and round through the Straits of Dover to Portsmouth is a long
way, while the distance is comparatively very short from London
to Portsmouth across the country. It was customary, therefore,
in those days, for the lady and gentlemen passengers to let the
ship go round, while they went across the country with a view of
meeting the ship at Portsmouth, while emigrants and other people
who could not afford to pay the expense of the journey across the
country would go all the way in the ship.
THE SHIP.
19
Steerage passengers and cabin passengers. The emigrants' berths.
The lady and gentlemen passengers had berths in the cabin,
which was in the after part of the ship. The berths of the emi¬
grants were farther forward, in a place called the steerage. So
the emigrants were commonly called steerage passengers, while the
ladies and gentlemen were called cabin passengers. The state¬
rooms of the cabin passengers were very elegantly furnished and
fitted up. The steerage berths, on the other hand, were plain and
coarse. The steerage, too, was full, for there were more than a
hundred passengers crowded in it, men, women, and children.
What are called berths in a ship at sea are, in fact, shelves built
against the side of the ship to serve instead of bedsteads for peo¬
ple to sleep upon. There would not be room for bedsteads enough
to hold so many people; and besides, even if there were room,
bedsteads would not be suitable for use at sea, inasmuch as in the
rocking and rolling of the ship in a storm they would continually
be sliding about the floor unless they were fastened down. So,
for the double purpose of saving room and of keeping the bed-
places secure, they build berths against the sides of the ship, and
let the poor people sleep in them.
Carl's father and mother had two berths, one above the other.
His father slept in the upper one, and his mother in the lower one.
As for Carl, he had no berth, so he slept on the floor in front of
his mother's place. They spread down something for him to lie
upon, and he had a bundle for a pillow.
Jocko slept at his feet. To prevent his getting away in the
night, Carl used to fasten the end of his chain into a staple that
he found near.
20
THE SHIP.
What Carl and Jocko did in the daytime. Jocko's amusements.
All around were a great many other berths, which at night were
filled with people. The floor, too, was covered in all directions
with women and children. Some of these lay thus upon the floor
because they had no berths ; others, because they were afraid to
sleep in berths, lest they should fall out in the night from the roll¬
ing of the ship in going over the seas.
It was only the night that Carl and Jocko spent below. In the
daytime they were almost always on deck, where Carl took great
interest in observing the operations of the sailors in managing the
ship, and Jocko amused himself by climbing about among the rig-
ring.
Jocko made a great deal of amusement for the sailors, and also
for the passengers, during the voyage, by his tricks and funny ca¬
pers. He had a very comical way of taking hold of the end of
his tail and shaking it at any body that displeased him, as if it
were a stick, and he was going to strike his enemy with it.
Whenever he had done any mischief, and a sailor ran after him to
punish him for it, he would run up the rigging, the sailor, perhaps,
running after him. Jocko, however, could climb higher and fast¬
er than the sailor; and when he got up to a place where the sailor
could not reach him, he would stop and sit on his hind legs, and
shake the end of his tail at the sailor, and make faces in such a
manner as to bring shouts of laughter from all that were looking
on.
Indeed, it was a great source of amusement to the sailors sim¬
ply to see how Jocko could climb. A monkey is made to climb,
and Jocko could run up and down the ropes and rigging, and out
THE SHIP.
21
Jocko's leaps among the rigging. The sailor's trick. The ship's bell.
upon the slenderest spars, as fast as a kitten can run about a car¬
pet. Sometimes he would spring across a long distance, and catch
a rope hanging midway in the air, and then run hand over hand
up or down, just as he pleased. At one time the sailors played
him a trick "by running a rope through a block and letting the end
hang down where they thought that Jocko would go, hoping that
he would jump at it and catch it, and that then his weight would
pull the rope through the block and let him down to the deck.
The plan succeeded admirably. The rope was, however, some¬
what heavy, and a little stiff, so that it did not let Jocko down fast
enough to hurt him much when he came to the deck, but it fright¬
ened him prodigiously. When he reached the deck, he jumped up
and ran limping away, looking, at the same time, quite ashamed,
for every body was laughing at him.
After this he was very shy of ropes that he saw hanging dang¬
ling in the air, and would not jump to any unless he saw that they
were firmly secured at each end.
Jocko made it a point to imitate every thing that he saw the
sailors doing about the ship, provided it was within reach of his
power. It is customary on board ships at sea to strike the hours
upon a bell which is placed for this purpose in a convenient situ¬
ation on the deck. There are two of these bells, in fact, one at
each end of the ship. The one that is near the stern of the ship
is struck by an officer when the time arrives, and then, immedi¬
ately afterward, the one at the other end, where the sailors are, is
struck by a sailor. The bells in both cases are struck by means
of a small cord which is fastened to the lower end of the tongue.
22
THE SHIP.
Jocko ringing the bell. A disaster. The water-cask.
1 —
It was a great point with Jocko to run and strike the hell which
was at the forward part of the ship whenever he heard the officer
strike his hell at the stern. This would have done very well if
he could only have struck it right; hut Jocko, with all his sagac¬
ity, could not count, and so, whatever may have been the number
of strokes given at the stern, Jocko made only a confused dinging
at the bows, which would have made mischief if the sailors had
not known at once by the sound that it was only Jocko's work.
Indeed, the sailor whose business it was to strike the bell soon
learned to observe whether Jocko was near or not when the time
came; and if he was near, he would run quick to the place and
drive Jocko away from the bell just as he was reaching out his
paw to the cord, and then ring it himself in a proper manner.
Sometimes Jocko's propensity to imitate every thing that he
saw brought some disaster upon his own head. For instance, he
once knocked himself over with a jet of water spouting out of a
cask. The cask was one of several containing a supply of fresh
water, which was kept on the deck of the ship for the use of the
sailors. It was mounted on skids for the purpose of raising it
high enough from the deck to make it convenient to draw the wa¬
ter, and there it was lashed securely. There was a plug in the
lower part of the head of it, and the sailors, when they wished to
draw the water, would pull out this plug, holding, of course, the
pail or pitcher which they wished to fill under it to catch the wa¬
ter.
Jocko, having seen the sailors- pull out this plug a number of
times, concluded one day, as he was passing by the place, that he
THE SHIP.
23
Jocko gets a ducking.
Description of the marling-spike.
would try and see if he could not draw it out. So he seized it
~ ^ and "scampered away
jocko drawing wATEB. up the rigging, drip¬
ping with wet, and frightened half out of his senses.
At another time Jocko jammed his foot with a marling-spike,
and this made him so angry with the marling-spike that he con¬
trived a way to throw it overboard. But perhaps some of my
readers may not know precisely what a marling-spike is. It is an
iron bar about a foot long, round at one end, and tapering to a
point at the other. The round end is about as large round as a
hoe-handle. The sailors use the marling-spike somewhat as la¬
dies use a bodkin. They employ it to make holes with in the
canvas, when necessary, in sewing the sails, and also to open the
strands of ropes and cables when they are splicing.
Jocko saw one of these marling-spikes lying on the deck where
a sailor had been at work, and he attempted to lift it. He sue-
24
THE SHIP.
How Jocko contrived to throw the marling-spike overboard.
ceeded in lifting one end of it, but just then lie saw the sailor com¬
ing, and so he dropped it suddenly, intending to run away; but the
marling-spike fell upon his foot, and hurt him very much indeed;
so he ran away limping and crying aloud.
"It is good enough for you, you little imp of mischief," said
the sailor. "You are always meddling."
Jocko took great offense against the marling-spike in conse¬
quence of this misfortune, and so, watching his opportunity a few
hours later, when the sailor had gone aloft to help to take in sail,
he ran slyly down to the place, and seizing the marling-spike by
the little end, he dragged it along to one of the lee scuppers, and
pushed it down through. The scuppers are holes made along the
margin of the deck to let the water run out that breaks over the
bulwarks from high waves. They lead down through the deck
and out through the sides of the ship. Of course, the marling-
spike went out into the water, and immediately began to sink to
the bottom.
I say began to sink, for the water in that place was about five
miles deep; and though the marling-spike, being of solid iron,
went down very fast, it took it nearly an hour to get to the bottom.
When the sailor came back for his marling-spike it was gone,
and he could not imagine what had become of it.
"I should think," said he to himself, "that that grinning ape
had thrown it overboard if I supposed he had strength enough to
lift it over the bulwarks."
He did not dream of Jocko'.s having cunning enough to push it
down through one of the lee scuppers.
THE SHIP.
25
Jocko stealing potatoes. The cook after him. Tom's cap.
It was a famous amusement of Jocko's to steal things from the
deck, and run off with them up into the rigging, and keep them
there a long while. One day he carried off half a dozen potatoes
into the main top, and hid them there in a fold of the sail, and
then, watching his opportunity, he pelted the sailors with them.
Of course, in carrying them up he could only take one at a time;
and so he was obliged to run up and down six times to get them
all there. He would have carried up more, but the cook, who had
left the potatoes in a pan at the door of the galley, happened to
see what he was doing, and ran at him with a rope's end; but
Jocko saw him coming, and so, dropping the seventh potato, he
ran off as fast as he could go without it, and then the cook took
the rest of the potatoes in.
There was a coarse-looking boy among the sailors, who was
called Tom, that took a dislike to Jocko from some reason or oth¬
er, and was continually doing something to tease him. Jocko en¬
deavored to avenge himself for these affronts and injuries by play¬
ing tricks of various kinds upon Tom. One day, when Tom was
sitting at his ease on a coil of ropes, with some other sailors
around, who were listening to a story that one of their number
was telling, Jocko came slyly down the shrouds until he was di¬
rectly over Tom's head, and then, swinging himself down by means
of a rope, he seized Tom's cap by the top-knot, and made off with
it up the rope as fast as he could.
" Who's that pulled off my cap ?" exclaimed Tom.
He looked about every way, but no one was to be seen who
could have taken the cap, and before he thought of looking up-
26
THE SHIP.
Tom can not recover his cap. How Carl tries.
ward, Jocko had made his way with the cap in his paw to the
foretop; and there, at length, Tom and the sailors caught sight of
him, sitting in the top with the cap on his head, and grinning.
The cap was so large that, while the front part of it rested on
Jocko's head, the rest of it extended half down his back, like a
clumsy cloak.
Tom immediately began to run up the shrouds to get his cap;
but Jocko, as soon as he saw him coming, took off the cap, and
holding it in one hand, while he climbed with his feet and with the
other hand, he ran up the rigging to a higher place. Tom follow¬
ed him, and for some time chased the poor monkey about the rig¬
ging, without, however, coming nearer to him. At length he gave
up in despair, and came down to the deck in a great rage, just as
Carl was coming up from below.
" Never fear," said Carl; " I'll get the cap back for you."
Now Carl had trained Jocko to imitate him in all that he did,
and this accomplishment, of which Jocko was very proud, Carl
often made use of to great advantage in managing his monkey.
The way in which he did this will appear by the course which he
pursued on this occasion.
He called to Jocko, and when he had made him attend, he climb¬
ed up a little way on the shrouds, and took his stand there where
Jocko could see him. He had his cap in his hand. He made a
low bow to Jocko, and then put his cap upon his head. Jocko
did the same.
Then he took off his cap again and held it in his hand. Then
he put it upon his head again. Jocko imitated all these motions
THE SHIP.
27
Jocko's imitation. Making friends among the passengers.
exactly. Finally, Carl held out his cap at arm's length, and when
Jocko had done the same, he let it drop to the deck. Jocko im¬
mediately dropped his, and then, of course, Tom, who was waiting
below, had nothing to do hut to pick it up.
Jocko made some enemies, it is true, by his tricks and mischief,
but he made many more friends by them, for his various acts of
mimicry, and the funny antics that he performed, amused all on
board. Sometimes the lady and gentlemen passengers, who occu¬
pied state-rooms in the cabin, and who were accustomed, when
they were upon deck, to sit upon settees and camp-stools that
were placed for them near the stern, used to ask Carl to come
there with his monkey and let them see him. In these cases
they would sometimes give Carl money, and this money Carl
would carry to his father.
Thus the voyage passed away very prosperously and pleasant¬
ly for two or three weeks, until, at length, the ship began to draw
near to the Banks of Newfoundland.
28
a visit.
How wide the Atlantic Ocean is. Carl learning to read.
CHAPTER II.
a visit.
The sea* which separates Europe from
America is very wide. It is so wide that
if it were frozen over, and there was a road
across it on the ice, and a hoy were to at¬
tempt to walk over it, and were to go at
the rate of twenty miles a day, it would
take him almost half a year to finish the
journey.
A sailing ship which should sail upon
an average one hundred miles in a day
would get across in a month; but often
ships are so kept back by contrary winds and storms that they
are six or eight weeks on the way. Steamers, on the other hand,
which go about three hundred miles a day, can go over generally
in ten days. Indeed, the great iron steamer Persia, in which I
have just made the voyage, and in which the first chapter of this
story was written, crossed in nine days. But to return to the
story.
One day, when the ship in which Carl was sailing had been out
about three weeks, Carl was sitting near the bows, teaching him¬
self to read English by means of a tract which one of the passen¬
gers had given him, when a young man, having a white apron on,
THE SEA.
A VISIT.
29
Carl receives a summons from some passenger.
and with no cap on his head, came from the after part of the ves¬
sel, and on approaching Carl accosted him by asking,
" Are you the boy that has got the monkey ?"
" Yes, sir," said Carl.
" And where is your monkey ?"
"He is down below," said Carl, "by my father's berth."
" Go and get him, and bring him here," said the man. "I
want you to go with me."
Carl had often been called upon to go with Jocko to the after
part of the ship, in order to show him to the gentlemen and ladies
there, and he was accordingly not surprised at this summons ; in¬
deed, he was pleased, for usually on such occasions he received
some small sums of money from the persons that sent for him
that enabled him to increase his father's store.
"Make haste," said the man.
"Yes," said Carl, "I will go down for him, if you will wait
here until I come. I will be back in a moment." So Carl went
below to get Jocko, and very soon returned with him to the deck.
" Come with me," said the man.
So saying, lie led the way, and Carl followed, toward the after
part of the ship; but instead of going to the quarter-deck, which
was the place where Carl had usually gone before when called in
this manner to show his monkey, the steward, who was conduct¬
ing him, entered a door which opened upon a flight of stairs that
led below.
" Here is a lady," said he, " down here in her state-room who
wishes to see you."
30
A VISIT.
Carl enters the cabin. How he carried Jocko. The state-room.
After reaching the foot of the stairs, Carl, following the stew¬
ard, entered a small but richly-furnished cabin. There was a ta¬
ble extending up and down the centre of it, with an elegant hang¬
ing shelf above, loaded with decanters and glasses, all set in sock¬
ets to prevent then* being thrown out of place by the motion of
the ship. Carl had, however, very little opportunity to examine
these thiiigs, for the waiter passed rapidly on and entered a little
passage-way, with doors on each side going into the state-rooms.
The doors were open. They were fastened open by a hasp. The
steward stood at one of these doors and motioned Carl to go in.
" This is the boy," said he.
Carl went in, carrying Jocko under his arm.
He found that the state-room was an exceedingly small place,
not larger than a large closet. There were two berths on one side
of it, and a sofa on the other. There was a lady upon the sofa.
She was reclining upon pillows placed at the end of it. The
room was lighted by one small round window, which contained
only one pane of glass. There was a wash-stand built into the
partition, and two tumblers placed in brass sockets above. There
was a looking-glass, too, and various other conveniences required
in such a place. The lady was of middle age, and her counte¬
nance expressed great gentleness and sweetness of disposition.
She smiled on Carl as he came in, and asked him what his name
was. Carl told her his name.
."I thought that I should like to see your monkey," said she,
" and so I sent for you to come to my state-room, because you
see I am not well enough to go out upon the deck."
A VISIT.
31
Carl and Jocko in the lady's state-room.
" Oh! I can come here just as well," said Carl.
"I have been sick almost all the voyage," continued the lady.
" And so this is the famous Jocko. I am very glad to see him.
He is a funny-looking fellow enough. But you had "better sit
down, though there is nothing for you to sit upon but the trunk."
In compliance with this invitation, Carl seated himself upon the
CARL IN THE STATE-BOOM.
32
A VISIT.
The lady's conversation with the poor Italian hoy.
trunk, which stood upon the floor of the state-room, while Jocko,
whom he had placed upon the wash-stand near, immediately
climbed up to the top of a little set of shelves under the looking-
glass, and perched himself there.
" So you are going to America ?" said the lady.
"Yes, madame," said Carl. "We are tired of being so poor,
and of not having any place to live in, and so we are going to
America."
"Could you not find any place to live in in Italy?" asked the
lady.
"It was very hard," said Carl, "for the country was all full.
All the land belonged to somebody, and all the houses had some¬
body in them. There was not any house or land left for us."
" And what do you expect to do in America ?" asked the lady.
" Why, we are going to find some land that does not belong to
any body," replied Carl, "and we are going to live upon that."
" And what are you going to do for a house?" asked the lady.
" If there is not any house there, perhaps we could build one,"
replied Carl. Then, after pausing a moment, he asked, in rather
a desponding tone,
"Do you think we could?"
Indeed, upon reflection, the idea of depending for a house on
such a one as his father and mother and himself could build
seemed to him rather a forlorn hope.
" Not very well," said the lady; " but that is not the way you
will do. You will not attempt to build a house for yourself.
You will buy one."
A VISIT.
33
The lady very kindly gives Carl information about America.
" But we have not got any money," said Carl—" at least not
enough to buy a house."
"Ah! "but your father will earn money very easily when he
gets to America," said the lady, " and your mother too. They
pay four or five times as much for work in America as they do in
France and Italy. You will all work as industriously as you can
for a year or two for other people, and save the money, and then
you can buy some land and a small house, and after that you can
work for yourselves."
"Pll work," said Carl. " I will do the very best I can."
" And what part of America does your father mean to go to ?"
asked the lady.
"I don't know," said CarL "Is there more than one place?
I thought it was all the same."
"Oh no," replied the lady. "It is very different in different
parts, and they raise very different things in different parts. In
the middle part of the country they raise tobacco chiefly on the
land."
Here Carl's face involuntarily assumed a slight expression of
disgust. He did not speak, but he determined in his mind he
should not like to have any thing to do with raising tobacco.
" Then at the South they raise rice and cotton," added the lady.
"I should like that better," said CarL
"Ah! but you can't do that very well," said the lady, "for at
the South, where rice and cotton grow, the climate is sickly for
white men, and so none but black men can work there. Very
few of the immigrants from Europe go to the South."
28 C
34
A VISIT.
The Western country. Farming. Carl forgets himself.
" What other places are there ?" asked Carl.
"Why, there is the Western country," said the lady, "where
they raise wheat. The country is very fertile there, and the land
is very smooth and level, and the wheat grows upon it in millions
and millions of bushels."
"We should like to go there," said Carl, " if we could only get
some of the land. Is there any land there that does not belong
to any body ?"
"No," said the lady, " not exactly, for all that does not belong
to any body else is the property of the government; but you can
buy it very cheap. A man can earn enough by his work in two
days to buy an acre of it."
" That's a very easy way to get it," said Carl. " Two or three
acres would be as much as we should want, and father could earn
money enough for that in a week."
"Ah! no," said the lady, "you would want more than that.
Two or three acres would do very well in Italy, where you could
raise grapes, or figs, or olives, but in America they would want a
hundred acres or more, and that it would take a year to earn
money enough to buy. Then, besides, your father would want
money enough to buy seeds, and a plow, and a yoke of oxen or
some horses, in order to till his land to good advantage. It is gen¬
erally two or three years before the immigrants get money enough
to buy a farm, unless, indeed, they bring some money with them."
" Father has got some money with him," said Carl. " He car¬
ries it in a money-belt fastened around him."
Here Carl suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth, and was
A VISIT.
35
The Northern country. Raising animals. Carl's colt.
sorry for what he had said, as his father had cautioned him not to
tell any body about the money.
" I am glad of that, for it will help him a great deal," said the
lady.
"Are there any other places in America besides these?" asked
Carl.
"Yes," said the lady, "there are the Northern States, such as
Vermont and New Hampshire."
"And what do they raise there?" asked Carl.
" Animals," said the lady. " They raise oxen, and sheep, and
horses, and pigs, and hens, and other such animals."
" Could not they raise cotton and rice there ?" asked Carl.
"No," said the lady, "because the climate is too cold. The
summers are not long enough and warm enough for the cotton
and the rice to grow, and, even if the summers were right, the
plants would be killed by the winter."
" Could not they raise wheat there ?" asked Carl.
" Not very well," said the lady, " for the land is very hilly and
rough, and is full of streams and springs of water; so grass grows
upon it better than wheat, and the people let the grass grow, and
keep sheep, and horses, and oxen to eat it. Then at the end of
the year they sell all the sheep, and oxen, and horses that they
have to spare, and so they earn their money."
" I should like that," said Carl.
"Yes," said the lady, "you might have a little colt, perhaps,
and keep him and feed him until he grew up to be a horse."
Carl's imagination was greatly taken with the idea of having
36
A VISIT.
Why the lady was more interested in Carl than in Jocko. Good advice.
a colt, and of seeing him gradually grow up to be a horse, and he
determined to recommend to his father, as soon as they landed in
America, to go directly to Vermont. He remembered the name
Vermont, both because it was the first of the two which the lady
had mentioned, and also because it was the one that was the easi¬
est to speak.
After talking some time longer with the lady, Carl rose to go
away.
"Come, Jocko," said he, "it is time for us to go."
Carl was surprised that the lady paid so little attention to
Jocko ; but the truth was, she thought scarcely any thing of him
at all. The people on deck, who had so often sent for Carl before,
thought every thing of the monkey and nothing of the boy. This
lady, on the other hand, was of that class of persons for whom the
movements and aspirations of any human soul, however humble,
have more of interest than the funniest possible tricks and capers
that any monkey can be conceived to perform.
" Stop a moment," said the lady, when Carl rose to go. "Can
you read English ?"
" I am learning," said Carl. " I can begin to read."
" Then I am going to give you an English Testament," said
she. "You can read a verse or two in it every morning and even¬
ing, and after you have read it you must pray to God to help you
and to take care of you. You see that, even if you succeed in the
end, you will pass through a great many dark hours of trial and
sorrow on the way, and if you trust in yourselves alone you will
often feel very disconsolate and wretched, and will be ready to de-
A VISIT.
37
The gift. More visits to the kind lady. Information.
spair; but if you trust in God, you will be safe and happy in his
hands, whatever may "befall you."
So saying, the lady opened a traveling-bag which lay near
upon the floor by the sofa on which she was reclining, and took
out a small Testament from it. It was a very pretty book, bound
in red morocco. Carl was very much pleased with it. So, bid¬
ding the lady good-by, he took Jocko up under his arm, and went
away to show his Testament to his father and mother.
After this Carl went several times to see the lady, and he had
many conversations with her. She inquired of him a great deal
about Italy, and about the mode of life he had lived with his fa¬
ther and mother before he left his native land. Carl answered
her questions as well as he could; but he was so young when he
first set out to cross the Alps that he could not remember a great
deal about it.
The lady also gave Carl a great deal more information about
Vermont, and the farms and farmers there. She told how the an¬
imals fed on the grass that grew in the pastures and on the hill
side during the summer season, while all the grass on the smooth
and level grounds was allowed to grow tall, and was cut for hay,
and put into great barns, to be given to the cattle in the winter.
She told him that if he ever were to become a farmer's boy in this
region of country, it would be his business in the winter to get up
early in the morning, and go out into the barn to feed the cattle
with this hay, and to see that they were all warm and comfort¬
able. Carl thought he should like such a life as this very much.
38
trouble at sea.
Light-houses. The Cape Race light. The sight of land.
CHAPTER III.
trouble at sea.
A light-house is built upon almost ev¬
ery important point or promontory that
projects into the sea, in order that sea¬
men, when they approach the coast in the
night, may see the light and be warned of
the danger. The first light-house which
can come in sight to ships sailing from
England to America is one built upon
Cape Race, which is the southern point
of the great island of Newfoundland.
It is not often, however, that vessels
thus coming to America from Europe see this light at all. They
generally go farther to the southward, and so do not approach the
land until just before they arrive at Boston or New York. 'But
the ship that Carl came in was driven far to the northward by a
storm when they had been out but little more than two weeks,
and thus Cape Race was the first land they saw after they left the
coast of England.
They were, of course, all overjoyed to see it. The cabin pas¬
sengers came out upon the quarter-deck, while the emigrants came
up forward, and all crowded along the side of the ship and gazed
eagerly at the land. They had yet almost a thousand miles to go,
THE LIGHT-HOUSE.
TROUBLE AT SEA.
39
The cholera on board ship. Deception. Was it right?
but still the open sea had been crossed, and they had come in
sight of America; so they all felt greatly encouraged, and thought
that the hardships and trials of the voyage were all over. Unfor¬
tunately, however, they were all to begin.
The first serious trouble which they encountered was the break¬
ing out of sickness on board. This sickness was cholera—a dis¬
ease which is very terrible when it makes its appearance in a
crowded ship. There was one case of cholera on board in the
early part of the voyage, but the passengers generally knew noth¬
ing of it. The officers of the ship kept it secret, in order not to
produce alarm. The sick man had been taken away to a certain
place in the ship which was set apart for a hospital. The man
died, and the body was buried, as is usual at sea, by being sewed
up in a canvas covering, with a heavy iron ball put in at the feet,
and thus launched overboard into the sea to sink to the bottom.
Some of tlje passengers knew of this death, but they were told
that the man died of consumption. This was to prevent the sto¬
ry from being circulated among the passengers that the cholera
was on board. The officers thought that if that were known it
would produce a panic, and any thing like a panic prevailing at
such a time makes people much more liable to take the disease
..than they otherwise would be, and renders it less probable that
they who do take it will recover. In order to prevent this evil,
the officers thought it right for them to say what was not true in
respect to the sickness of the man who died, but I think it was
not right.
For some time no other case except that one occurred; but at
40
TROUBLE AT SEA.
The truth is known. Carl's inquiries.
length there were one or two others, and then the truth could not
be any longer wholly concealed. People whispered it to one an¬
other that there was cholera on board. Each one, however, in
communicating the tidings to his friend, charged him not to men¬
tion it to any one else, for fear of a panic. Still the tidings cir¬
culated slowly and secretly, until at length a strange and myste¬
rious gloom seemed to pervade the ship. Carl noticed this, but
for some time he did not know the cause. He observed that his
father and mother seemed to lose their cheerfulness, and to be si¬
lent and thoughtful. He saw people, from time to time, standing
in little knots, and talking together, with anxious looks and in low
tones of voice, that indicated something wrong. All this time the
sea was smooth, the wind, though light, was fair, and the vessel
was going on in the most pleasant and prosperous manner, and
Carl could not imagine what was the matter.
" Mother," said he one day, " something is the matter on board.
What is it ?"
" Oh, nothing," said his mother; "we are going on very well
indeed."
" I know it," said Carl, " but yet I am sure that something is
the matter. I wish, mother, that you would tell me what it is."
His mother was very unwilling to tell him what was the mat¬
ter, for she thought that if he knew he would be would be afraid,
and that would make him much more likely to take the disease.
"Has the ship sprung a leak?" asked he.
" Oh no," said his mother; " it is not that."
"What is it, then, mother?" he asked.
TKOUBLE AT SEA.
41
Little Rosa, The sick man. Carl goes for help.
" Why, it is only that three or four of the passengers are sick,
and one or two have died, and that makes people feel sorrowful.
But we think that there will not be any more taken sick, and those
who are sick now will get well, and then all our trouble will be
over."
In one of the berths near where Carl's father and mother slept,
there was a man that had a little girl with him, who was about
two years younger than Carl. She was a very pretty child, and
she was so good-humored and patient, and she amused herself so
well during the long and tedious days of the voyage, that she be¬
came a great favorite with all who knew her. Her name was Rosa.
One day, when Carl came down to his father's berth in order to
get Jocko, for the purpose of taking him on deck, he saw that Ro¬
sa's father was lying in his berth, which was the next one to Carl's
father's, and that he seemed to be writhing with pain. Little Rosa
was standing by his side looking on very sorrowfully, but not
knowing what to do. She had a little doll, which Carl's mother
had made for her, in her hand.
" What is the matter, Rosa ?" asked Carl.
" My father is sick," said she. " Do you know where there is
any medicine ?"
" No," said Carl, " but I will go and call my father."
So Carl went on deck immediately to find his father. He
found him very soon, and brought him down to the place.
The sick man seemed to be in great agony. There was anoth¬
er man standing near, who said that some persons were coming to
take him away to the hospital.
42
TROUBLE AT SEA.
The dying father. Carl's parents adopt little Bosa.
In a minute or two the patient became a little easier, so that hie
could speak. His first attempt to speak, however, was only a
groan.
" Oh, my God," said he, in tones of despair, " what will be¬
come of my poor little Rosa ?"
" I'll take care of her," said Carl's father. " Trust her to me;
I will take care of her till you get well."
" I shall never get well," said the patient; "I am sure I shall
never get well. I am struck with death."
"Then we will always take care of her," said Carl's father.
" My wife will help me. We will be a father and mother to the
poor child."
The sick man raised his eyes with a very imploring look, which
seemed to be intended at once to thank Carl's father for his kind
promise, and to beg him not to forget to perform it. He also, at
the same time, put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small
canvas bag, like a purse, full of something very heavy. He put
this into Carl's father's hand, and said,
" Take care of this, too, for her."
Another paroxysm of dreadful pain then came on, and, before
he recovered from it sufficiently to speak again, he was borne
away. Carl never saw him afterward.
It is true that reports came for several days that he was better,
and that he would soon be well. The people told Rosa so contin¬
ually, for she asked eagerly of every person that came by, who she
supposed to belong to the ship, what they had done with her fa¬
ther. In answer to these questions, some told her one thing and
TROUBLE AT SEA.
43
What the people told Rosa. Carl in affliction.
some another. Those that admitted that her father was sick al¬
ways said that he was better, and that he would be well in a few
days. And thus poor little Rosa was expecting every day to see
him come back to her for more than a week after his lifeless body
had found its last resting-place on the bottom of the sea.
Even Carl's father and mother did not know certainly that Ro¬
sa's father was dead, though they supposed that he was. They
inquired several times in respect to him, but they could not gain
any satisfactory information. In any event, they determined to
take good care of Rosa.
"I have promised," said Carl's father to his wife, "that you
and I will be father and mother to Rosa."
"We will," said his wife.
"Then I shall be her brother," said Carl; "for if you are her
father and mother, that will make her my sister."
"Yes," said his father, "remember that. If any thing hap¬
pens to us, remember that."
Carl observed, after this, that the anxiety and suffering which
had been depicted on the faces of the passengers on board the
ship increased rather than diminished from day to day. At last,
one day, as he was coming down toward the berths where his fa¬
ther and mother slept, his father came suddenly toward him and
turned him away.
" Go up on deck a while, my little Carl," said he; " you can
come down again by-and-by."
Carl went away, but, before he turned, he had opportunity to see
44
TKOUBLE AT SEA.
The terrible havoc of the cholera among the passengers.
two or three men standing near the berth, apparently much en-
.gaged in something that they were going to do. Carl thought, also,
that he heard a sound of suppressed groans.
Carl waited anxiously upon deck for about fifteen minutes, and
then came down again. His father was sitting on a chest near
the berth with his face buried in his hands. His mother's berth
was empty.
"Where's mother?" exclaimed Carl.
His father looked up with a countenance expressive of great
distress. At first he did not answer, and did not seem to know
what to say. At length he said, in a tone of- despair,
" She is sick, and they have taken her away."
So saying, he drew Carl up to him, and clasped him in his
arms. He was almost overwhelmed with grief and fear, but he
made a great effort to suppress his feelings for the sake of his boy.
" But, father," said Carl, " why did they not leave her here with
us, so that we might take care of her ?"
" Ah! because they have a better place somewhere in the ship,"
replied his father, " where they can take better care of her, and
give her the medicines that she needs. But she will be well again
in a few days, and then she will come back."
He said this in such a despairing tone, however, that Carl was
very little comforted by the assurance that the words conveyed.
Carl burst into tears, and exclaimed,
"Ah me! I shall never see my mother any more."
That night, when bedtime came, a universal solemnity seemed
to reign among the passengers. Some sat in little groups about
TKOUBLE' AT SEA.
45
The terrible panic on board ship. Itosa and Camilla.
the deck, talking together gloomily. There were others that
kept themselves aloof from all company, as if they were afraid
that, even in a brief conversation, they might catch the dreadful
contagion. Others lay weeping in their berths, mourning the
loss of some husband, or wife, or child, whom they had seen borne
away to the sick department, from which they knew so few re¬
turned.
These various indications produced a great impression upon
Carl's mind, and they would have produced a still greater one had
he not observed how calm and composed his father appeared.
Then little Rosa's playful talk was a constant source of amuse¬
ment and even relief to him. Rosa was too young to understand
the case fully. She believed what they told her of her father's
soon coming back, and in the mean time she amused herself with
her doll, and seemed as gay and happy as ever.
" Now, Rosa," said Carl, " where are you going to sleep ?"
" She can sleep in your mother's berth," said Carl's father.
"Yes," said Rosa, " and there will be room there for Camilla
too."
Rosa had named her doll Camilla.
" Then tumble in," said Carl: " it is time for you to go to bed."
It is usual to make short work with dressing and undressing,
even among the cabin passengers, on a voyage across the Atlantic,
but among the steerage passengers there is generally scarcely any
dressing or undressing at all. Rosa clambered into the bed as
well as she could, and laid her head down upon the pillow. For
a moment she shut her eyes, and made believe be asleep. She
46
TROUBLE AT SEA.
Rosa asleep in the berth. Carl's resting-place.
then opened them again, and looked toward Carl with a roguish
smile.
" Go to Sleep, Rosa," said Carl.
" Yes," said Rosa; " but first give me Camilla."
So Carl took up the doll, which Rosa had placed upon the deck
while she climbed into the berth, and handed it to her. Rosa laid
it down gently by her side, as if it had been an infant child, and
covered it with the blanket. She then shut her eyes, and was
soon fast asleep.
Carl then, after seeing that Jocko was properly secured by his
chain, arranged himself, as he usually did for the night, with a bag
for his pillow.
" Are you going to bed now, father?" said he.
"No," said his father, "not just yet; I am going up on deck
a little while. You will be asleep when I come down: shut up
your eyes and go to sleep as soon as you can."
So Carl shut his eyes, and Jocko did the same. In a few min¬
utes all three, Carl, Rosa, and Jocko, were fast asleep, and even
Camilla gave every outward appearance of being so.
While Carl was asleep he dreamed a dream. He dreamed that
he had landed in America, and gone to Vermont. There he saw,
all around him, immense mountains covered with snow—far high¬
er and more imposing than the Alps. It was winter, and he was
leading a glossy black colt, which he thought belonged to him, into
a stone barn. The barn had a thatched roof, and a small window
near one side of it, and a low door. Beautiful grape-vines, bear¬
ing great clusters of purple grapes, were climbing over the barn,
TKOUBLE AT SEA.
47
Carl's dream. Carl's awaking. The sick father.
and fig-trees, loaded with figs, were growing by the door. His
mother was there with a basket upon her arm, which she was fill¬
ing with fruit for supper, and a herd of cows were coming in, with
great bells, like those of Switzerland, hanging from their necks.
The whole place was rocking and rolling, like a ship at sea. Just
as Carl was going into the door of the barn with his colt, he felt
an unusual lurch, and he put out his hand so eagerly to take hold
of the door-post to save himself that he woke up.
He heard a bustling sound near him, and voices in suppressed
tones. He opened his eyes. There were two men standing before
his father's berth; his father was getting out of it; he was trying
to get down. Carl could hear, also, that his father was uttering
low but suppressed groans, as if he was in great distress, and as
if the exertion which he was making increased it.
Carl started up and gazed earnestly at the scene, wondering
where he was, and what those men were doing. He was not more
than half awake, and the recollections of his dream mingled them¬
selves with the realities before him in such a manner that his ideas
were completely confused. He did not know what to do or say.
In the mean time his father had descended from his berth, and
stood supported by the two men, who seemed about to take him
away. Presently he succeeded in drawing his money-belt out,
and in handing it to Carl.
"Here, Carl," said he, faintly, "take this, and take good care
of it."
He also drew from his pocket the little canvas bag which Ro¬
sa's father had given him. He gave this to Carl without speaking,
48
TROUBLE AT SEA.
Carl left an orphan upon the emigrant vessel.
a word. Immediately afterward he sank down fainting in the
arms of two men, and they "bore him away.
All this passed so quickly that Carl was not fully awake "before
it was over. It seemed to him like a dream. He was so sleepy,
too, that it was in vain he struggled to recover his faculties suffi¬
ciently to understand fully what it could mean.
" Ah me I" said he, " how sleepy I am I"
So saying, he sank down again upon the deck. He instinct¬
ively drew the hag and the money-belt under him to conceal them
from view, and to prevent their being taken away while his father
was gone, and then, in a few minutes, fell as fast asleep as before.
And this is the last that Carl ever saw of his father and
mother.
He inquired for them very earnestly the next morning, but
those whom he asked either could not or would not give him any
information.
The first person that he asked was one of the emigrant passen¬
gers whose berth was very near. His name was Conolly.
" Where is my father, Mr. Conolly ?" he said, looking up to him
earnestly, and with eyes filling with tears.
" He is not far off, child," said Mr. Conolly. " Don't be troub¬
led about him. Perhaps he has got up early and gone to take a
walk upon deck. You will find him coming back soon."
"No," said Carl, "he is sick, and they carried him away in
the night. I wish I could find out where they have carried him.
Ah me! what shall I do ?"
TROUBLE AT SEA.
49
A partial relief in Carl's sorrow. Concealing the money-belt.
Carl's eyes just then fell upon Rosa's face as she lay in her
berth. She was sleeping quietly, with Camilla by her side.
Whenever a person is overwhelmed with any grief or sorrow, it
is always a source of relief to them to have some duty to perform
or some responsibility to bear. The heart is thus divided, as it
were, between the sense of sorrow and the weight of obligation,
and the grief, of course, gets a smaller share.
" Here is poor Rosa," said Carl to himself, " and nobody to
take care of her but me. I'll take as good care of her as I can.
I am her brother now, and all the friend she has got."
Carl then thought of the money-belt which his father had given
him in the night. He lifted it up from under the bedding upon
which he had been lying. It was quite heavy with the gold
pieces which had been sewed into it.
"I will buckle it around me," said Carl; "that will be the
best way to keep it."
So he contrived to put the belt in under his jacket, and to draw
it around his body just over his shirt. When he brought it into
the right position he drew the two ends together and buckled it
tight. He contrived to do all this in a secret manner, so that no¬
body should see him, standing up for the purpose close to the
berth.
When this had been done, Carl took the little canvas bag which
had belonged to Rosa's father and put it in his pocket.
"It is heavy," he said, as he put it in. "I suppose there is
money in it. I will keep it safe, and give it back to Rosa's fa¬
ther when he comes."
28 D
50
TROUBLE AT SEA.
Conversation between Carl and the stewardess.
Soon after this a woman whom they called stewardess came by.
She was a woman that belonged to the ship, and her duty was to
perform various services for the female passengers in the steerage.
Carl asked her if she could tell him where they had carried his
father and mother.
" Ah! poor child," said she, " have your father and mother
been carried off?"
"Yes," said Carl, "and I can't find out where they have put
them."
"Why, they have taken them to the hospital, child," said the
stewardess, "if they are sick."
"Where is the hospital?" asked Carl, "because I want to go
and see them."
"Ah! you can not go and see them," replied the stewardess;
"nobody is allowed to go there but the doctor and the nurses.
If you were to go there you would catch the plague."
" But I want to go, notwithstanding," said Carl. " I must go
and see my father and mother."
"No," replied the stewardess, "it can't be allowed; besides,
they will be back again soon. I have no doubt but they are get¬
ting better. Wait a day or two, and you will have them back
again. And this poor child," she added, turning to Rosa, "where's
her father ? Is he sick ?"
"Yes," said Carl, "they have carried him away too."
"Never mind," rejoined the stewardess. " Tell her, when she
wakes up, that he is getting well, and will be back again soon."
So the stewardess went away, saying to herself, "Poor chil-
TKOUBLE AT SEA.
51
Carl's inquiries. Tom's answer. What was Carl to do ?
dren! I pity them with all my heart. What will they do when
they get to America ?"
Carl determined now that he would look about the ship, and see
if he could not find out where the hospital was.
" I will inquire, too," he said to himself, " of every one I meet.
I shall find somebody at last who will tell me."
This he accordingly did. He obtained a great variety of an¬
swers to his inquiries, but no information. One man told him
bluntly that if his father and mother were sick, and had been car¬
ried off to the sick-room, he never would see either of them again,
and that he might as well give up all hope of it first as last.
Among others, too, Carl met Tom upon the deck talking with
two or three sailors, and he asked him. Tom brutally replied to
his inquiry by saying,
"Your father? Is he missing? I have not seen him any
where lately. I rather think he may have gone ashore to get his
breakfast."
At this the sailors who were standing with Tom laughed aloud,
and Carl walked away, greatly grieved that any one could be so
cruel as to make sport of his distress.
All the inquiries which Carl thus made were fruitless. He could
learn nothing more than that his father and mother were sick, and
that he could not be permitted to see them ; so he concluded that
there was nothing more for him to do but to return below and de¬
vote himself to the care of Rosa and Jocko, and of the money
which had been intrusted to his keeping.
52
the end of the voyage.
Carl's instructions to Rosa.
CHAPTER IV.
the end of the voyage.
Eosa was a very pretty child, and she
was always full of playfulness and good-
humor. She was too young to understand
much in respect to the loss of her father,
or any of the other circumstances of her
situation, and thus, after the first day, her
spirits were very little affected by the for¬
lorn condition in which she was left; and
she laughed and played with Jocko on the
deck just as if nothing serious had hap¬
pened to her.
"You must not go far away from this place," said Carl.
"No,"said Rosa, "I wont."
" And you must always obey me," continued Carl, " and do just
as I say, for I am to be your brother now, you know."
" Yes," replied Rosa; "I am very glad of that. I never had
any brother before."
" Did not you ?" asked Carl.
" No," said Rosa, " only once—a great many years ago. I be¬
lieve I had a little brother a great many years ago, but he died."
" How big was he ?" asked Carl.
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
53
Rosa's brother. The storm coining. The sailor's wish.
" I don't know exactly," replied Eosa, " but I suppose he was
about as big as Jocko."
" Well, now I am your brother," said Carl; " and I am older
than you, and am going to take care of you. So you must always
obey me, and do just what I say."
" Well," said Eosa, " I will."
During all the time that the sickness had been so severe on board
the ship, the sky had been clear, the sea smooth, and the air hot
and sultry. For the three last days there had not been a breath
of wind, and the ship now lay lifeless upon the glassy sea, with
her sails hanging idly against the masts, or swinging gently to
and fro as the ship rocked upon the swell of the sea. At length,
one day, when Carl, Eosa, and Jocko were upon the deck, they
saw a bank of cloud extending all along the southern horizon.
There were two or three sailors looking at it.
"We are going to have some wind," said one of them.
" I hope it will be a hurricane," said another, desperately.
"Ay," said the first sailor, "so do I."
"I should like to see a tornado coming, to blow this accursed
pestilence out of the ship," said the first.
" It will blow hard enough in the middle watch to-night, you
may depend upon it," said the other.
" Eosa," said Carl, whispering into Eosa's ear, " we are going
to have a storm."
"Are we?" said Eosa. "Do you think the ship will be
wrecked ?"
54
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
Carl's care of Kosa. Preparing for lough weather.
" Oh no," said Carl.
"I wish my father would come back before the storm begins,"
said Rosa.
"Never fear," said Carl, "I will take good care of you. Be¬
sides, it is a good strong ship, and I don't think there is any dan¬
ger."
That evening, after supper, Carl went upon the deck again.
Rosa wished to go with him, but Carl said she had better wait un¬
til he had been up to see how it was.
" I will go and see," said he, " while you and Jocko stay here.
I will come down pretty soon and tell you all about it, and if it is
pleasant up there, then we will go up."
So Carl went upon deck alone. He saw at once that a great
change had taken place. The clear and beautiful blue of the sky
was gone, and low, watery-looking clouds were scudding swiftly
from the southward. A great many sailors were up upon the
masts, taking in the sails, and tying them up with great ropes;
others were coiling the ropes that lay upon the deck, and making
things snug generally. There was an officer on the deck who was"
continually shouting out commands, both to the sailors aloft and
also to those about him on the deck.
Just then one of the cabin passengers came by.
"Are we going to have some wind, Mr. Martin?" said he, ad¬
dressing the officer.
"I hope so," said Mr. Martin; "and I hope it will blow like
the very fury."
So saying, Mr. Martin scowled, and set his teeth, and thundered
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
55
The passengers are ordered below. The appearance of the steerage.
out some new command to the sailors, as if lie were filled with
spite against the calm, and was prepared to welcome any kind of
commotion that would break it up.
After hearing this conversation, Carl thought it was not best for
Rosa and Jocko to come on deck. Indeed, in a minute or two
after this, a man came around and ordered all the passengers that
were already on deck to go below. He gave this order in a very
rude and imperious manner.
"All you lubbers, here," said he, "get down below as fast as
you can, and take care you don't show your heads on deck again
for three days. We're going to have a blow. Down with you, ev¬
ery mother's son of you! Away, boy I" This last was said to Carl.
So Carl went below. He found Rosa there waiting to hear his
report.
" No, Rosa," said he, " we can't go upon deck; they're sending
every body down. There's going to be a storm, and we had bet¬
ter go to bed and go to sleep as quick as we can."
The steerage was crowded with people now, for every one had
come down from above, and the whole place was filled with bus¬
tling movements, as well as with the sound of voices, and the noise
of people going to and fro. This was so different from the dead
and solemn silence which had prevailed for so many days in all
those regions, that it made a great impression on Carl and Rosa,
and led them to feel as if something very extraordinary was about
to occur.
" Climb up into your berth, Rosa," said Carl, " and get to sleep
as fast as you can, before the storm comes on."
56
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
A comfortable place to sleep at last. Carl's prayer. The value of Jocko.
So Rosa climbed into her berth and composed herself to sleep.
Carl looked up to the berth above, which was the one where his
father was accustomed to lie.
" If I were sure my father would not come home to-night," said
he to himself, " I would see if I could not climb up into his berth
and sleep."
He finally concluded that he would venture it; and so, putting
one foot upon the edge of Rosa's berth, so as to use it for a step,
he succeeded in clambering in.
" Ah I" said he to himself, as he laid down his head, "this is a
nice place; I'm safe up here. When I am down upon the floor,
the people are always blundering over me, and then scolding me
for being in the way."
Carl then shut up his eyes, and prayed God to take care of him,
and Rosa, and Jocko during the night, especially if there should
be a storm. He did not forget Jocko during this prayer. His
remembering him was partly because he really loved him, and Was
desirous that he should be taken care of as well as himself and
Rosa, and partly because he was depending a great deal upon
Jocko to earn money in America to buy the farm.
" If any thing were to happen to Jocko," said he to himself, "I
do not know what we should do."
After Carl had finished his prayer, he opened his eyes again,
and peeped out upon the scene that presented itself before him.
His place was so high that he had an excellent view, and he was
greatly pleased with the opportunity which he now enjoyed of
looking down upon all the crowd and confusion from a place where
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
57
The scene which Carl witnessed from his berth. A rough sea.
he was himself in safety. The noise and confusion were very
great. There were men disputing and quarreling with each other
about the places where they were to lie. Others were telling sto¬
ries, and laughing at the jokes contained in them. There were
mothers scolding their children, and children crying. The whole
floor was covered with people, who were lying down upon it in all
possible positions—men, women, and children buried in blankets
and cloaks, and forming shapeless heaps that were mingled to¬
gether in inexplicable confusion.
" I'm glad that I'm up here out of the way," said Carl to himself.
He then reached his* head out over the edge of the berth, so as
to look down into Rosa's berth below.
" Rosa," said he, " are you asleep ?"
There was no answer.
" Yes," said he to himself, " she is asleep, and I'll go to sleep
too." So he shut up his eyes and went to sleep.
About an hour afterward he awoke, or, rather, half awoke, feel¬
ing very uncomfortable. He perceived a sort of wriggling motion
of the ship, as if she was restless and uneasy, and was struggling
to escape from something or somebody. This motion made Garl
feel giddy and sick.
"Ah!" said he to himself, "it is the storm, I suppose, coming on."
He was, however, very sleepy, so he turned over upon the oth¬
er side, and was soon asleep again, though his sleep was uneasy
and disturbed.
In about an hour more he was awakened by hearing somebody
call to him. He started up and listened.
58
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
Rosa is alarmed. Carl quiets her fears. Going to sleep again.
" Carl," said the voice, " Carl, where are you?"
It was Rosa's voice. Carl answered immediately, and looked
down from his berth. By the dim light which shone in the place
he could see Rosa leaning forward from her berth and looking for
him.
" Carl," said she, " where are you, and what is the matter ?"
Carl listened, and heard a great noise and uproar upon the deck
above. He heard loud voices shouting out words of command,
and heavy footsteps running to and fro upon the decks. He also
could hear sounds like those made by blocks and heavy coils of
rope falling upon the deck, or dragging along upon it.
"Rosa," said Carl, "here I am; and don't be afraid. It is
only the men on deck making ready for a storm."
" It frightens me to hear them," said Rosa.
" You must not be frightened," said Carl; " we are all the safer
for their doing these things. It shows they are taking care of the
vessel. So you can shut up your eyes and go to sleep."
" But, Carl," said Rosa, " what makes the berths wriggle about
so?"
Rosa had become quite accustomed to the long and slow rolling
of the ship, which is its usual motion in ordinary weather at sea.
But the sharp and short pitching and tossing which is produced
by a high wind coming up suddenly was a very different thing.
She perceived that it was something unusual, and it made her afraid.
" Oh, it is not any thing," said Carl; " it is only the storm.
We must lie down, and go to sleep again." So Rosa lay down
and soon fell asleep.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
59
Scene on board a ship in a heavy sea.
When Carl awoke the next morning, the ship was pitching and
tossing about over the waves in a most fearful manner, and every
now and then there came a heavy shock, produced by the striking of
a sea upon the bows, which made the ship tremble from stem to
stern, and filled all the passengers with dismay. In such cases,
in a moment after the sea had struck the ship, the water would
come down upon the deck above in a perfect deluge, which threat¬
ened utterly to overwhelm her. Nobody, except the sailors and
those who had been regularly trained to the sea, could walk or
even stand. One or two who attempted it were thrown violently
down by the pitching of the ship, and seriously hurt. To prevent
the occurrence of such accidents, the stewardess passed through
the steerage, holding on as she went to the various fixtures at the
sides, and directed all the passengers to keep quiet just as they
were.
" If you attempt to move about," said she, "you will get thrown
down, and break your legs and arms, and like enough your necks."
Carl leaned over and looked down as well as he could to see if
Rosa was awake. She was awake, but she was lying perfectly
still, clinging to her berth in great terror.
"Rosa," said Carl, "keep perfectly still."
"Yes," said Rosa, "I will."
"And don't be afraid," said Carl. "It is a good strong ship,
and I think the storm will be over pretty soon."
" Yes," said Rosa, " I think it will; but I only wish my father
would come and take care of me."
" I'll take care of you, Rosa," said Carl; "I can take care of
60
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
The scene from the deck. The captain's fears.
you just as well. If you want any thing, tell me. And now shut
up your eyes again, and try to go to sleep."
Rosa was very willing to shut up her eyes, for she felt sick and
miserable, and did not wish to talk; but she could not go to sleep.
As for Carl, he had better courage. He wished very much that he
could go up on deck and see the storm, but he knew that he ought
not to attempt it.
If he had gone up, he would have beheld a fearful sight. The
sea was every where white with foam, and dark, heavy clouds
were scudding swiftly over the surface of it and across the sky.
The wind was blowing with such fury that it was impossible for
the ship to bear up against it at all, and so all the sails had to be
taken in, and she was, as it were, abandoned wholly to the mercy
of it. She was flying at a fearful rate over the waves, wherever
the wind chose to drive her, and this was in a direction toward
the land; for though, at the commencement of the gale, the direc¬
tion of the wind was from the south, the course of it had shifted,
and it was now blowing from the eastward.
" There is sea-room for us," said the captain to the mate that
morning, " for twenty-four hours. After that, if the wind does
not change or go down, God have mercy upon us."
Of course, the passengers in the steerage knew nothing about
the ship's distance from the land, nor the fact that the chief dan¬
ger to which they were exposed was coming into the vicinity of it.
All that they thought of was this terrible pitching and tossing of
the ship, and the awful shocks and concussion of the waves which
struck upon her. They were afraid that they should be upset, or
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
61
In a storm at sea the danger is in being too near land.
that the seas would break the ship into pieces, or that in some oth¬
er way they should be destroyed in the open ocean. They would
have been relieved, rather than alarmed, to be told they were draw¬
ing near to land.
" Stewardess," said one of the emigrant women who was lying
on the floor, and who saw the stewardess coming by, " how is it
now ? is the wind going down ?"
"Going down!" repeated the stewardess; "no; it is blowing
harder than ever."
"Oh dear me!" said the woman, "what shall we do? Ain't
we pretty near the land ?"
" Pretty near the land!" exclaimed the stewardess, impatiently ;
" I'd give more money than ever I saw, if I had it, to be a thou¬
sand miles from land."
The wind, instead of going down within twenty-four hours, as
the captain had hoped, only seemed to blow harder and harder.
The children lay all this time in their berths, unable to leave them
on account of the pitching and tossing of the vessel. They could
hear the seas roaring without, and thundering in an awful manner
against the sides of the ship, while the wind shrieked and howled
through the rigging like some savage monster furious for its prey.
With the exception of these sounds, a dead silence prevailed
throughout the ship, both above and below. Carl thought it would
have been a relief to have heard, in the intervals of the storm, the
sound of the sailors' feet trampling upon deck, or of voices giving
commands, or of the rattling of ropes or blocks, or any other noise
connected with human life or action. But nothing of this sort
62
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
A catastrophe. One of the masts gone by the board.
was heard. So far as the people on board were concerned, a dead
and solemn stillness reigned every where, as if all effort had been
abandoned, and even all struggle had ceased, and every one, in de¬
spair of farther help from any thing that they could do, were await¬
ing in silent awe the consummation of their fate.
About five o'clock, just as Carl and Rosa were trying to go to
sleep, there came an unusually heavy concussion from a sea, which
seemed to strike the ship on her side, and immediately afterward
there followed a frightful crash on the deck above, and down over
the side of the ship where Carl and Rosa were lying.
Rosa started up from her bed, and called out to Carl.
" Carl," said she, " what was that ?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Carl; "but we must not
mind it, whatever it is. Lie down and go to sleep again."
"I can't go to sleep," said Rosa.
" The way is," said Carl, " to put your head down in its place,
and shut your eyes."
"I do shut my eyes," said Rosa, "but they won't stay shut."
Carl lay still and listened. At every dash of the waves he
heard a frightful thumping against the side of the ship close to
his ear. It seemed as if something was going to break through.
It was one of the masts that made this noise. The mast had
been snapped off, and had gone overboard at an unusually heavy
lurch which the ship had taken, and it now lay alongside, entan¬
gled with the rigging, and thumping heavily - against the ship's
side at every dash of the seas.
In a few minutes Carl could hear shouts and the movements of
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
63
Cutting adrift. A temporary calmness. A new terror.
heavy tramping over his head. Presently he could hear blows
like those of an axe.
" What is that ?" said Rosa, rousing herself up again.
"I don't know," said Carl. "They are cutting something,
but I don't know what."
In a few minutes the sound of the thumping ceased, and also
that of the blows of the axe. A few more shouts and calls were
then heard, and the sound of feet, as of persons going away, and
then all was still again except the thundering of the seas against
the sides of the vessel, and the howling of the winds.
The crash occasioned by the falling mast had for a moment
produced a universal excitement in the steerage. Every body
had started up to ask what was the matter, and some screamed
aloud in their terror; but when the sound of the thumping ceased,
this excitement gradually subsided, and the people became tolera¬
bly calm again.
It was not long, however, before they were all roused again by
a shocjt that produced universal consternation. The ship struck
upon the rocks. The sensation was as if some mighty monster
had given her a sudden and violent push, which threw every body
out of their places. The whole company of passengers were in¬
stantly thrown into a state of terror and confusion. A loud out¬
cry burst from every part of the ship. The men leaped from the
places where they had been lying, and struggled together at the
ladder to get upon the deck. The women were beside themselves
with terror. Some shrieked, some fainted'or fell into convulsions;
some were calm, but looked bewildered as if out of their senses,
64
THE END OF THE YOYAGE.
Terrible panic of the passengers. The children in consternation.
and many were mute and motionless with despair. In the mean
time the ship, as she rose and fell upon the seas, thumped heavily
upon the rocks in the most awful manner.
The hatches* had been shut down for most of the time during
the storm, but now they were opened, and every body was eager
to get up upon the deck. The passengers imagined that some¬
how or other the ship was sinking, and that, unless they could get
out of her, they would all be drowned. So they crowded together
to the stairs, and then struggled and fought with each other to get
up, uttering shouts, and screams, and outcries of all kinds, that
were truly terrific. Some were squeezed or trampled upon in the
press until they screamed with pain and terror; others were clam¬
orously vociferating to their friends—women calling their children,
and husbands their wives; others were shrieking hysterically in
their fright without any object or design, and as there were more
than one hundred passengers in the steerage, nearly all of whom
joined in making this confusion, the scene was terrible beyond
description.
In the mean time Carl and Rosa remained in their berths look¬
ing on, utterly confounded, and not knowing what to do. The
thumps and concussions of the ship were so great that they were
obliged to hold on firmly to the edge of their berths in order to
keep their places. In this position, with their heads raised a lit¬
tle, they were looking down on the scene that was passing before
them.
* The hatches are the covers of the openings which lead below from the deck.
They are shut down in storms to prevent the seas from coming in.
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
65
Carl's prudence. " When you don't know what to do, do nothing."
" Carl," said Rosa, at last, in a faint voice, " they are all going.
Had not we better go too ?"
"We can not go yet," said Carl; "they are all pushing each
other, and we are not strong enough to push among them."
" Then what shall we do ?" asked Rosa.
"I don't know," said Carl. "We must wait a little, and see
what will happen."
It was a maxim that an excellent father once taught his son,
"When you don't know what to do, do nothing." An excellent
maxim it was, and Carl, though he had never heard it stated in
words, was taught it in substance by his instinctive good judgment.
It was well in this case that he acted as he did, for of those who
went upon deck in this scene of confusion, a large number were im¬
mediately destroyed. The seas, at short intervals, were breaking
over the ship; and as all was in confusion on the deck, and there
was nobody there to take charge of them or give them any cau¬
tions, by the time that twenty or thirty had got up, and while they
were trying to find some place of shelter or some means of escape,
a heavy sea would come upon them unawares, and sweep away half
or more of them in the boiling surges. Some would save them¬
selves, as the sailors did, by seizing hold of the bulwarks or sud¬
denly winding the coil of a rope around their bodies ; but great
numbers were swept away and drowned.
Others, in their terror and despair, leaped into the sea in hopes
of swimming to the shore. They saw the ghore not far from them,
and without thought they leaped into the water in hopes of reach¬
ing it. Of these, however, scarcely any were saved. Nearly all
28 E
66
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
Different courses of the different passengers.
of them were either immediately overwhelmed in the boiling surges,
or killed by being dashed against the rugged rocks which formed
the shore.
When at length the greater portion of the passengers had gone up
to the deck, the confusion and excitement in the steerage gradually
subsided. There were still, however, a number of persons that re¬
mained below. Some of these remained because they thought that
there was no hope for them, and so they determined quietly to await
their fate where they were. Then there were mothers with young
children, who could not bear the thought of exposing their helpless
babies to the wind and sea which they heard roaring and thunder¬
ing over the deck above. Others remained below because they
really thought it was the safest and best place. Carl overheard
one of the men say to another,
" She can't go down, for she is on the rocks, and this is the
safest place for us to be in till daylight."
"But she may go to pieces," said the other.
" Yes," replied the first, " I expect that she will; and if she does,
it will make no difference to us whether we are on deck or here."
" Rosa," said Carl, " I think we had better stay where we are
till morning."
"Yes," said Hosa, " I think so too."
" Or at least for a while,"added Carl, "till we see what will hap¬
pen next."
" Yes," said Rosa, "^that is the best thing that we can do."
The noise and uproar which was heard upon deck gradually di¬
minished. So, in fact, did the violence of the concussions pro-
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
67
Hopes. Getting a line ashore. Day-dawn.
duced by the shocks of the seas and the striking of the ship upon
the rocks. The reason of this was that the tide was going down,
and the wind also was subsiding. Still it blew fearfully, and the
wind from time to time struck the ship with such force that those
who remained below would start up from their places and look
wildly about, as if they expected to see the vessel going to pieces.
In the intervals of these shocks, the children could hear on the deck
the noise of sailors moving to and fro, and of ropes and blocks rat¬
tling, and shouts like commands given by officers to men. About
midnight, one of the men who had remained below went up to the
deck to see what they were doing.
In a few minutes he came down again, saying,
" They are trying to get a line ashore. If they do it, there's a
chance to get off to-morrow morning."
" That's good news for us, Rosa," said Carl.
" Yes," said Rosa ; " but how can we go ashore on a line ?"
" I don't know," said Carl; " but there must be some way, or
else they would not say so."
Both Rosa and Carl felt considerably relieved by the gleam of
hope which the story of the line had awakened in their minds.
They remained quiet for some hours, speaking to each other occa¬
sionally, and watching the sounds which came to them from the
deck, but not moving.
At length they saw a faint gleam of gray light coming down the
hatches, which looked like the approach of morning.
" Rosa," said Carl, " I think it is going to be morning."
" I am glad of that," said Rosa. " Then we will get up."
68
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
The children get up and go on deck. The terrible scene.
"We will wait a little longer," said Carl, "till it grows lighter.'
So they waited about half an hour longer, and then Carl said it
was time for them to get up. The concussions of the ship had
now nearly ceased, so that the children could get down from their
berths without much difficulty. Carl got down first, and then
helped Rosa out.
"Now," said Carl, "take hold of me and hold carefully. We
will leave Jocko here till we go up and see what is to be done."
As the children passed across toward the stairs that led up to the
deck, they observed that there were very few persons left below.
Nearly all had gone up in the course of the night. When they
reached the stairs, which were short and steep like a ladder, Carl
went up first, and Rosa followed. When they arrived on deck and
looked around, they beheld a terrible scene of ruin and confusion.
The masts had been carried away, and the decks were encumber¬
ed with broken spars and entangled rigging. Here and there, in
various places about the deck, groups of people were huddled to¬
gether, wherever they could find shelter from the wind and sea.
Many of these persons were almost exhausted from exposure to the
cold and wet. Some of them, indeed, were actually perishing, and
every heavy sea that struck the ship washed two or three away,
and ingulfed them forever in the foaming billows, where they sank
never to rise again.
In the forward part of the ship a company of sailors were at
work rigging an apparatus to convey the people that were still alive
to the land. They had already succeeded in getting a cable ashore.
The way in which they did it was this. They first fastened the
THE END OP THE VOYAGE.
69
How the sailors got a rope to the shore. A fearful conveyance.
end of a small rope to a cask, and then threw the cask overboard
toward the land, retaining the other end of the rope on board. The
dash of the waves washed the cask toward the shore, and finally
threw it up against the rocks, where some men who had assem¬
bled there succeeded in catching it, and in thus getting hold of the
line. It was a moonlight night, so that they could succeed in do¬
ing this very well. The sailors on board then fastened their end
of the line to the end of a cable, and thus the men on shore drew
the end of the cable to the land.
When they had got it there, they secured it to a post which they
set in a crevice of the rocks, high up from the sea, while the sail¬
ors fastened the other end to the stump of the mast. And now
they had a tub, made of a very large cask sawed in two, which they
were going to suspend to this cable by means of two rope-rings con¬
nected with a band of ropes which passed around the rim of the
cask, and was secured there by proper lashings.
When they had got the cask suspended, they fastened two lines
to it, one of which was to go to the shore,-while the other remain¬
ed on board the vessel. The shore-line was to enable the men on
the rocks to draw the cask along the cable to the land, and the other
was for the sailors on board to draw it back again. When all was
ready, they put two of the passengers into the cask, and then giv¬
ing a signal, the men on the rocks drew it to the shore—the rope-
rings running along the cable, and the cask with the two people in
it being suspended from it over the boiling surges, which moved
and tossed their foaming crests below as if they had been living
monsters furious for their prey.
70
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
The landing-place of the passengers. Scene of the shipwreck.
When the cask reached the shore, the passengers in it landed on
a sort of shelving surface of the rock, just below where the end of
the cable had been secured. Carl and Rosa watched the operation
from a place of shelter which they had found upon the deck, where
they were tolerably well protected from the spray. The process
had been going on for some time when Carl and Rosa came up.
GETTING ASHORE.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
71
The energy of the captain preserves order among the passengers.
"I should not dare to go ashore in that way," said Rosa.
"We must go in that way,"said Carl. " There is no other way."
"Then let us go now," said Rosa. 11
" No," said Carl. " There are a great many people that want
to go first, and they are all pushing and crowding, I suppose. We
will wait till there are not so many."
Carl was mistaken in supposing that the order in which people
went on shore was determined by the pushing and crowding. The
captain of the ship, who was a very energetic and determined man,
took the direction of the whole proceeding, and preserved admira¬
ble order. He stood by with one pistol in his hand and another in
his belt. As soon as the tub was first ready for the conveyance
of the passengers on shore, he called out to the seamen.
" Now, my lads, be cool and deliberate, and take your time. By
going on regularly and in order we shall all get safe ashore, and
don't you have any fear that the regular order of proceeding will be
interfered with. The moment I see any one disposed to interfere
with it on the part of any man, passenger or seaman, it will be my
duty to shoot him down on the spot, be he who he may, and you
have known me long enough to know whether or not I shall do my
duty."
There were two or three strong men just ready to make a rush
for the tub as soon as it should be ready, in order to be the first
to get in ; but the captain advanced to the foremost of them, and,
raising his pistol, ordered him to stand back.
The man began to fall back, asking, at the same time, when it
would be his turn.
72
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
The captain's arrangements for sending the people on shore.
" It will be your turn last" said the captain. "You shall share
the honor with me of being the very last to leave the ship."
The captain then looked around and selected the two most fee¬
ble and exhausted-looking women that he could find, and put them
into the tub. They lay down in it almost lifeless. As soon as
they had gone the captain selected two others, and brought them
forward so as to have them ready. Thus the work went on, the
captain selecting the feeblest and the. most helpless—the mothers
with young children, and those most exhausted from exposure—
to go first, and requiring all the strong and vigorous to wait. In
this manner the process had been going on for an hour or more,
when Carl concluded that he would go to the place and see when
his and Rosa's turn would come.
" I'll go and see," said he, " and pretty soon I will come back
again."
But Rosa was afraid to be left alone. She begged to be allow¬
ed to go with him.
"No," said Carl, "you will only get knocked about. I will
go alone first, and then come back to you."
So he walked along toward the bows of the ship, for the cable
upon which the passengers were going to the shore was attached
to the stump of the .foremast. There were a great many persons
there waiting for the captain to call upon them to go. The ship
was now nearly still, and the sun had risen so high as to make
it tolerably warm and pleasant, so that the passengers who had as¬
sembled were no longer suffering much from the cold and wet, and
those that had been nearly exhausted were beginning to revive.
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
73
The captain takes care of Carl and Rosa.
When Carl arrived at the place, he stood for a moment looking
on to see the sailors put two men into the tub. As soon as they
were in and the tub had gone, the captain began to look around to
see who should go next, and his eye fell upon Carl.
" My boy," said he, " who do you belong to ? Where are your
father and mother ?"
" I don't know, sir," said he. " They were sick, and were taken
away, and I don't know what has become of them."
" And who is with you now ?" asked the captain.
"Nobody but Rosa," said Carl—"Rosa and Jocko."
"Where is Rosa?" asked the captain. "Go and bring her,
and you and she shall go ashore next."
So Carl went back immediately after Rosa. He found her
waiting patiently for his return.
" Come, Rosa," said he, "come ; we are going ashore next."
So he led Rosa along toward the bows. There he placed her
in a secure position, and told her to wait while he went below for
Jocko.
" And bring Camilla too," said Rosa.
So Carl went down below. He found Jocko waiting there for
him, very restless and uneasy, wondering where every body had
gone.
"Ah! Jocko," said Carl, " are you getting out of patience? I
don't wonder. But our turn has come now."
So saying, he unfastened Jocko, and took him under his arm.
He also took Camilla from the place in the berth where Rosa had
left her. He was then ready to go up.
74
THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
Carl's forethought. Going ashore on the line. Thebreakeis.
"But stop," said he; " there are some sea-biscuit in my father s
bag, and I will take two or three of them, so that we may have
some breakfast when we get ashore."
So he opened the bag and took out three sea-biscuit, saying to
himself as he took them out, one by one,
" There's one for Rosa, one for Jocko, and one for me. Ca¬
milla does not need any."
Then, with Jocko under one arm, and his biscuit under the oth¬
er, and Camilla in his pocket, he climbed up the steep steps of the
ladder which led to the deck, and there soon rejoined Rosa.
" Now, Rosa," said he, " come with me."
So saying, he led the way to where the captain was, though, on
account of the ship's having keeled over when left by the tide, the
deck was so sloping that it was difficult for them to walk.
" This is Rosa, sir," said Carl to the captain.
"Ah!" said the captain; "very well; you shall go now."
So the captain put Carl and Rosa into the tub, and the men on
the rocks drew them safe to land.
Carl was considerably afraid while they were making the pas¬
sage, but he endeavored to conceal his fears, so as not to alarm
Rosa. He sat quiet and composed in the tub, without attempt¬
ing to look over the side of it, though he could hear the breakers
roaring against the rocks below him with a sound like thunder.
Jocko lay all the time perfectly still in Carl's arms. He looked
anxious and uneasy, and he would have been very much terrified
if he had not placed so much confidence in Carl's power to take
care of him in any emergency.
america.
75
The shipwrecked passengers on shore lingering near the wreck.
CHAPTER Y.
america.
The tub in which Carl and Jocko were
1 conveyed to the shore made a great many
more passages to and fro between the ship
and rocks, conveying always two and some¬
times three—as, for example, when there
was a small child to come in its mother's
arms—of the passengers at a time. As
fast as the passengers reached the rocks,
the people that had assembled there took
them to places of shelter. Those that had
the tub. remained on the deck during the night
were many of them so exhausted that they could not stand, and
they were carried by the people on the shore across a field to an
old deserted house which stood about half a mile from the shore,
where a fire was built to warm them, and some refreshments were
provided. The others—those that were still well and strong—re¬
mained on the rocks watching the new arrivals in the tub. Some
were waiting for the coming of relatives or friends who yet remain¬
ed on board. Others stopped from curiosity or from a desire to
see the last of the passengers—and then the crew and the captain
—come safe to land. Others still waited in hopes that they might
find some means of recovering their effects from the wreck after
the passengers had all been saved.
76
AMERICA.
Carl and Rosa in America. Energy and caut.ousness.
Carl and Rosa remained a few moments on the rocks among
these groups of by-standers, looking on bewildered by the strange¬
ness of the scene, and not knowing what to do. Rosa kept close
to Carl, holding him by the hand. Carl had the three biscuits
under his arm, while Jocko sat perched upon his shoulder.
At length Carl began to think it best for him and Rosa to go on.
" Rosa," said he, "I don't think it is worth while for us to stay
here any longer. We can't do any good. I suppose this must be
America, and I think we had better walk along into the country."
"Well," said Rosa, "I am ready to go."
So they walked along. They first ascended the rocks until they
came to the place where the path began that led across the field.
There were persons going to and fro along this path. Just before
them were a party carrying one of the female passengers who was
so exhausted that she could not walk. They were carrying her
upon a litter which they had made for the occasion.
" I expect that she is almost dead," said Rosa.
" Yes," said Carl; " that is because she was on deck all night
in the cold and wet. It is lucky for us we staid in our berths."
It is very necessary to be energetic in emergencies, and they
only who are so will go on prosperously in the world ; but there
is such a thing as being too eager, and pressing forward too urgent¬
ly in times of difficulty and danger. They who walk get to the
end of the journey sooner, than those who run, if they only walk
perseveringly and steadily, and do not waste time and lose oppor¬
tunities by remissness and delays. Thus it was much wiser in
Carl, at the time of the shipwreck, to remain with Rosa quietly
AMERICA.
77
The house occupied by the passengers. The children traveling on.
below until morning, so long as he watched the course of events,
and was ready to go ashore when the time came, rather than to
have joined the throng that crowded to the deck in their eagerness
and impatience to get to land, and to have remained there all night
exposed to the cold and wet, and to all the fury of the wind and sea.
After walking along the path through the field for some time,
the children came to the house where the passengers had been con¬
veyed from the rocks. The house seemed very full, and there
were a great many persons going and coming about the doors.
Carl stopped for a moment to look at the house. The people that
were going and coming seemed too busy to take any notice of him.
" Rosa," said he, " I suppose they have got something to eat in
that house, and perhaps a fire. Are you cold ?"
"No," said Rosa, "I am not cold, now that the sun is shining."
"Nor am I," said Carl; "and so I think that we had better
go on. Besides, I do not think there is room enough for us in that
house, and I don't think there will be enough to eat for all the
people that are hungry."
" Then we had better go on," said Rosa, "and by-and-by we can
stop and eat the biscuit."
" So we will," said Carl. " We will stop when we come to a
brook or a spring, where we can get some water to drink."
They accordingly walked on. The path soon became a road;
the road led through fields, in some of which the Indian corn was
growing. Carl wondered what this plant could be. He had nev¬
er seen it before.
By-and-by they came to a house. It was a small house by the
78
AMERICA.
The road-side cottage. Carl encounters an American boy.
road side, with a yard in front full of shrubbery and flowers. The
house was painted white, and there was a white fence.
" What a pretty place it is I" said Rosa.
"Yes," said Carl, "it is a very pretty place indeed."
Carl was surprised at the size of the windows in the house, and
at the large panes of clear glass. The small houses that he had
been accustomed to see in Europe were mere cabins, with very
few windows in them, and those extremely small.
The children walked on, and they found the country more and
more pleasant as they proceeded.
" I suppose there is no doubt but this is America," said Carl,
"but I should like to be really sure."
" Then you had better ask somebody," said Rosa.
" I will," said Carl; " I will ask the first man I meet."
But instead of a man, the next person the children met was a
boy. He was a boy apparently about fourteen years old; he was
driving a cow. As soon as Carl and Rosa came opposite to him,
Carl addressed him, saying,
" Is this America ?"
"America!" repeated the boy, very much astonished at such a
question. He thought Carl asked it in some way as a joke. But
before he had time to think much about it, his attention was caught
by Jocko, who was sitting all this time on Carl's shoulder.
" Where did you get that monkey ?" said Jhe.
" He is my monkey," said Carl.
"Where did you get him, and where did you come from?"
asked the boy.
AMERICA.
79
Carl and Rosa find a pump where they stop to eat their lunch.
"We came over in a ship," said Carl; "and the ship was
wrecked last night down here on the rocks, and we have just got
on shore."
"Is there a wreck down on the rocks?" exclaimed the boy.
" My stars!"
And, without saying a word more, he dropped the stick with
which he had been driving the cow, and leaving her to eat grass
by the road side, he ran off as fast as he could go in the direction
from which Carl and Rosa had been coming.
" He would not answer us," said Rosa.
"No," said Carl; "but it is America, I have no doubt."
So they walked on.
Presently they came to another house, and, as they drew near
to it, they saw that in a yard by the side of it there was a pump,
with a tub before it, for watering horses. The pump was raised
a little above the ground around it, and there were flat stones laid
at the sides of it, which served for steps and a platform.
"Ah!" said Carl, "now here is a good place to get some wa¬
ter, and I think they will let us sit on these stones to eat our bis¬
cuit."
So they went to the place. Carl began to pump some of the
water for Rosa to drink, and then he pumped for himself and drank.
Jocko drank at once out of the tub, standing upon the margin of
it, and putting his lips down to the water. As he did this, he
prevented himself from falling in by holding on with his hands on
each side, in a very comical manner.
When they had all drunk, the children sat down on one of the
80
AMERICA.
Jocko amusing the children. Lucy conversing with Carl.
stone steps, and began to eat their biscuit. They gave Jocko his
full share, and he ate what they gave him with great eagerness,
sitting up, while he did so, on his hind legs, and holding the piece
of biscuit in his hands. At every mouthful he would look up at
Carl and Rosa, and wink at them in the most comical manner,
which made them laugh very much, though he himself remained
perfectly sober through the whole.
Some children, who lived in the house, seeing the monkey, came
out to look at him. They seemed to be afraid to come near, but,
after advancing a short distance from the door toward the pump,"
they stood with their hands behind them, wondering what the
strange spectacle could mean.
"Come nearer," said Carl, "if you wish to see the monkey."
" Where did you get him ?" asked one of the children.
"He came from England," said Carl. "We came in a ship,
but the ship was wrecked on the rocks."
On hearing this, the children ran to tell their mother that there
were a boy and a girl sitting by the pump that had been ship¬
wrecked on the coast, and that they had a monkey.
"Ah!" said their mother.
"Yes," said the children, " and we are going out to see them
again."
So the two children went out to see Carl and Rosa again. This
time they went rather nearer than before, thougn still not very
near. They were a little afraid of the monkey.
" Can your monkey dance ?" asked one of the children named
Lucy.
AMERICA.
81
Jocko can not dance without music. Carl's flageolet lost.
"Yes," said Carl, "he could dance if we only had anj music
for him to dance "by. He will dance if you will sing."
Here Lucy laughed aloud. The idea of her singing to make mu¬
sic for a monkey to dance by seemed to her exceedingly amusing.
" What kind of music do you commonly have ?" she asked.
" Why, my father had an organ," said Carl, solemnly.
"Where is your father?" asked Lucy.
" He is dead," said Carl, "and my mother too. They died on
board the ship." Carl said this in a very mournful tone, and
Tiucy pitied him very much indeed.
After a moment's pause her thoughts reverted to the monkey
again, and she asked Carl if there was any other kind of music
that the monkey ever danced to.
"Yes," said Carl, "I used to play on a flageolet. I had a
flageolet, and I could play four tunes on it; but my flageolet is in
my father's chest on board the ship, and I don't suppose I can
ever get it out."
" That's a pity," said Lucy.
" And I don't see that there is any other way for him to dance
unlees you will sing," continued Carl.
"Well," said Lucy, "I will sing."
So Lucy began to sing a little dancing song, and Jocko, on be¬
ing ordered to do so by Carl, immediately began to dance about,
keeping time with the music. In his dancing he turned round and
round in a very comical manner, so much so that Lucy could not
go on with her singing, but burst out into a long and joyous fit of
laughter.
82
AMERICA.
Lucy's kindness. A sudden change in her mother's charity.
After a little while Lucy concluded to ask her mother to let her
give Carl and Rosa something for breakfast that would be better
than a hard biscuit, which was all they seemed to have. So she
and her sister went into the house and asked her mother to give
them something.
"Yes," said her mother, "I shall be very willing to give them
something. It is always our duty to be charitable to the poor."
" They seem to be very poor children," said Lucy, " and their
father and mother are dead. They both died at sea."
" Then perhaps they died of cholera," said their mother, looking
up suddenly, and appearing alarmed. " They may have died of
cholera, or else of small-pox. They often have cholera or else
small-pox on board those ships. Don't you go near them again.
Go and shut the door, and put down the window, and have nothing
more to do with them; or, stop, I will go and send them away."
So saying, the woman went to the door, and, calling out to Carl
and Rosa, she told them to go away.
"Children," said she, "go away."
Carl was thunderstruck. He could not imagine what this sud¬
den change in the feelings of the household toward him could mean.
"Go away," repeated the woman—"go away directly."
" Come, Rosa," said Carl, " we had better go."
So they both rose from their seats, and, taking the remainder
of the biscuit in their hands, they went down into the road and
walked away.
There are some persons whose charity to the poor and willing¬
ness to relieve those who are in distress seems very fair and prom-
AMEKICA.
83
The children come to another house. A seat by the road side.
ising so long as the exercise of them is perfectly easy and safe,
but fail immediately when there is any sacrifice to make or danger
to incur. Lucy's mother was one of these.
The children walked on.
"Never mind," said Carl; "we had a chance to eat a part of
our biscuit, and we liad a good drink of water."
"So we did," said Rosa.
" And now we can eat the rest of our breakfast walking along
the road," continued Carl.
So they went on.
" I wish I had a flageolet," said Carl. " I might play upon it,
and make Jocko dance to amuse the children here in America, and
so we could get some money, perhaps."
"I wish you had one," said Rosa.
At length they came to another house. There was a little gar¬
den by the side of it, with a path leading from the door of the house
across a green yard to a garden gate. There were one or two boys
just going through the gate carrying a little ship which they had
been rigging, and were now going to sail in a pond at the foot of
the garden.
On the opposite side of the road, near where Carl and Rosa
were, there lay a large log, which had once been the mast of a ves¬
sel. The log lay in a convenient place to make a good seat. As
soon as Carl saw it, he proposed to Rosa that they should sit
down upon it and rest.
"Yes," said Rosa, "I should like to sit down, for I am tired; be¬
sides, we can see what these boys are going to do with their vessel."
84
AMERICA.
The boys. Is Jocko a cat or a dog? Trueman.
One of the boys at the garden gate, happening at this moment
to look that way, caught sight of Carl and Rosa and the monkey.
" Hi-yi!" exclaimed he, with great surprise. " What has that
boy got down on the old mast ?"
The other boys who were with him looked eagerly in that direc¬
tion, but they could not decide what animal it was.
" It is a dog," said one, " all dressed up."
"It is a cat," said another.
" Let us go down and see," said a third.
So the boys all went down toward the road, carrying their ves¬
sel with them, and looking eagerly at Jocko all the way.
When they reached the road they stopped on the side of it op¬
posite to where Carl and Rosa were sitting, and gazed intently at
Jocko.
"What is that you have got there?" asked one of the boys,
whose name was Trueman.
" It is a monkey," said Carl, "and his name is Jocko."
" Is he yours ?" said Trueman.
" He is my father's," said Carl.
" Where does your father live ?" asked Trueman.
" He used to live in Italy," said Carl, " but now we are going
to America."
Just at this moment a cart drawn by oxen was seen coming
along the road. The man who was driving it was seated on the
tongue of it, between the oxen and the cart-body. The man look¬
ed earnestly at Carl and Rosa as he went by, but he did not stop.
After going a few steps farther he came opposite the house. Now
AMEEICA.
85
What the man in the cart said to Trueman's mother.
it happened that Trueman's mother had just then come out to find
her boys for the purpose of telling them it was time to go to school.
There was a little path which led down from the front door of the
house to the gate of the front yard, and Trueman's mother had
come down there, and, seeing her boys looking so eagerly toward
the children sitting on the mast, she stopped a moment to look too,
and there she was standing as the man with his cart was going by.
" Mrs. Roundy,"said he, "I think you had better tell your boys
to give those children with the monkey a wide berth."
" Why so ?" asked the woman.
"I expect they came from the ship that was wrecked on the
point last night," said the man; " and they had the cholera on
board. The select-men are going to put the passengers all into
quarantine, I believe; but, somehow or other, these children man¬
aged to get away—the little vagabonds!"
By this time the cart and the man had got beyond Mrs. Roun-
dy's hearing.
"Boys," said Mrs. Roundy, calling to Trueman and his broth¬
ers, "come here."
The boys immediately obeyed. They had been taught to obey.
"It is time for you to go to school," said their mother.
" Yes; but, mother," said Trueman, " here are some poor chil¬
dren with a monkey, and they look very tired and hungry. I
wish you would let us give them some breakfast."
" I will give them some breakfast," said Mrs. Roundy; " but
it is time for you to go to school."
So the boys went back to the house to put away*their vessel,
86
AMEKICA.
Mrs. Eoundy's kindness was not discouraged by her fears.
and then, taking their books and slates, they set off to go to school.
Their mother told them they might stop as they passed and look
at the monkey if they wished, and that they might talk with the
boy and girl, but that they must not go near them.
"You must keep on the other side of the road from where they
are," said Mrs. Roundy.
" Why, mother ?" asked Trueman.
" I will tell you why," said their mother, " when you come
home at noon. You may tell the children when you go by that
I am coming pretty soon to give them some breakfast, and that
they must wait where they are till I come."
There are some persons whose disposition to relieve the poor
and distressed is increased instead of being diminished by the dif¬
ficulties and dangers attending it, and Mrs. Roundy was one of
these. The fact that these strangers had come from a ship which
had the cholera on board, and that, perhaps, they had been made
orphans by it, only rendered her the more desirous to give them a
good breakfast than she had been before. At the same time, she
had good sense enough not to expose herself to any unnecessary
danger, but to take all proper precaution to guard against any pos¬
sible contagion.
So she went into the house, and then, after the boys had gone
to school, she came down to the road again, opposite to where Carl
and Rosa were sitting. Standing there, she accosted Carl, and
asked him where he came from, and where he was going. Carl
gave a full and honest account of himself. He told her about
their coming from Europe in the packet ship, and about the chol-
AMERICA.
87
Carl's account of the voyage. What Mrs. Roundy did.
era that broke out on board, and the disappearance of his father
and mother, and of Rosa's father.
"I suppose," said he, mournfully, when he had finished the ac¬
count, "that they are all dead."
He then proceeded to relate how the ship was wrecked, and how
he and Rosa, together with a great many of the passengers, had
been saved by the tub; and finally, when Mrs. Roundy asked him
where he intended to go, and what he intended to do, he said that
if this was America he was going to try to get to Vermont, in or¬
der to get a place as a farmer's boy.
Mrs. Roundy told him that it was America, and that she did not
think he could do better than to go to Vermont, if he could get
there, and become a farmer's boy.
"And now," continued Mrs. Roundy, " I am going to give you
some breakfast, if you want some, and that is all that I can do for
you. Are you hungry ?"
"We are not very hungry," said Carl, " because we have had
some biscuit to eat."
"I will give you abetter breakfast than that," said Mrs.Roun¬
dy. "Wait till I come and call you."
So she went back to the house. In about ten minutes the
children saw her coming out of the end door with a plate in one
hand and a large mug in the other. But, instead of coming down
toward the road, she went across the yard to the garden gate, and,
going in there, she disappeared.
In a few minutes she came back again, and, calling out to Carl,
she said,
88
AMERICA.
The breakfast in the garden. Jocko's coffee-cup.
" Children, your breakfast is ready. Go in through, the garden
gate, and turn to the left. Under the trees you will see a seat
with your breakfast upon it. After you have eaten it, you can
come out through the gate and go along. I am sorry that I can
not do more for you."
Mrs.Roundy would have been glad to do something more for
the children if her husband had been at home to tell her what it
was proper to do to guard against any danger of contagion; and,
in that case, she would have taken them into the house, and kept
them there, until they were entirely rested from their dangers and
fatigues. But, in the absence of her husband, she thought it not
right for her to do any more than to give them a good breakfast
and send them on their way.
The children followed the direction that Mrs. Boundy had given
them, and went into the garden. They found the seat very readily.
In the plate were some large slices of cold roast beef on one side,
and on the other four pieces of buttered toast, hot from the fire.
The mug was quite large, and was filled with coffee, also hot, and
already prepared with milk and sugar.
Both Carl and Rosa were delighted at the sight of this break¬
fast, and they found, when they began to eat it, that they were re¬
ally quite hungry. The coffee, in particular, was excellent, and
it refreshed them very much to drink it. They gave Jocko his
share of it. In order to enable him to drink it conveniently, Carl
poured it out for him into a clam-shell which Eosa found under
the seat. The clam-shell made an excellent cup for Jocko to
drink from.
AMERICA.
89
Carl inquiring the way to Vermont.
"Let us keep the shell," said Carl. "We can carry it with
us, and then we can let Jocko have another good drink if any
body should ever give us some coffee again."
"Or any milk," said Rosa.
"Yes," rejoined Carl, "he would like milk as well as coffee, I
suppose."
There would have been really no danger in Mrs. Roundy's tak¬
ing the children directly into her house, though, as her husband
was absent, and she did not know certainly but that there might
be danger, she was right in acting as she did. She was, however,
very reluctant to let them go away without doing something more
for them, and when she saw them coming out of the garden gate
she went to the door to bid them good-by.
" Did you have enough breakfast, children ?" said she.
"Yes, ma'am," said Carl, "and here are the plate and the
mug."
"You may put them down there on that block by the gate,"
said Mrs. Roundy, " and I will come and get them by-and-by. I
wish I could do something more for you."
" No, ma'am, we don't want any thing more," said Carl, " ex¬
cept to have you tell us the way to Vermont."
"It is a very long way to Vermont," said Mrs. Roundy, " but
perhaps some of the conductors will let you ride in the cars when
you come to the rail-road. You must keep directly on in the way
you are going, and inquire of the people that you meet from time
to time. Good-by."
90
AMERICA.
Carl's tharfks. Pleasing prospects. Jocko.
" Good-by, ma'am," said Carl and Rosa, both speaking togeth¬
er. Carl added also, •" And we are very much obliged to you for
our good breakfast."
So the children walked on.
" She was very kind to us," said Rosa, as soon as Mrs. Roundy
had gone in and shut the door. " If every body will be as kind
as she is, we shall do very well."
"We don't need that every body should be so kind," said Carl.
" If we find only two persons every day, it will be enough."
"Yes," said Rosa, "it will."
When the children reached the road they turned in the direc¬
tion toward Vermont, and walked away much pleased with their
situation and prospects.
Jocko, of course, went with them. He seemed very well satis¬
fied with Mrs. Roundy's hospitality. He rode upon Carl's arm,
listening to the children's conversation, and watching the scenery
with great interest.
the flageolet.
91
How Carl learned to play the flageolet Approaching a town.
CHAPTER YI.
the flageolet.
The flageolet is a very easy instrument
to play, and that was the reason why Carl's
father had procured one for him, and had
taught him to play some tunes upon it
when he was traveling in France and En¬
gland. Carl had learned four tunes, and
he used to like very much to play them
for Jocko to dance by, to amuse the chil¬
dren who were looking on. He used to
do this at times when his father was sick
or was otherwise engaged, and several
times he obtained a number of pieces of money from the children
that listened to him. He wished very much that he had his flage¬
olet now, but he thought there was no possible way of getting it.
It was now about ten o'clock in the morning, and, as the day
was very pleasant and the children had been much refreshed by
their breakfast, they walked along at a good pace for two or three
hours. At length they began to draw near to a town; It was
quite a large town, and a very pretty looking one.
" What a pretty town I" said Carl.
" Perhaps," said Rosa, " you will get some money in it by let¬
ting the children see Jocko."
THE FLAGEOLET.
92
THE FLAGEOLET.
Carl and Rosa in the streets of the town. toy sh°P-
"I could, perhaps," said Carl, " if I only had something to make
music for him to dance by. They like to see him dance better
than any thing else."
They soon came to the entrance to the town, and as they passed
along the street every body turned to look at them. They were
very pretty children, and, as they were dressed very neatly in some¬
what of a foreign fashion, they looked quite picturesque as they
walked along together. But what chiefly attracted the attention of
the people was Jocko, who sat perched upon Carl's shoulder, and
held himself in place by passing his arm over Carl's head.
As the children passed on, they stopped now and then to look
into the windows and stores along the line of the street. There
were a great many things displayed at these windows which Carl
had never seen before and did not know. Other things he knew
very well. There was one window where there were pictures to
be seen, and there they stopped for some time. At a little dis¬
tance beyond this there was a toy shop.
"Ah!" said Carl, " here are some toys and playthings. They
are just the kind I have seen in Germany and Switzerland."
This was very true. Indeed, most of the toys which are used
by the children in America are made in Germany, and are import¬
ed into this country in ships across the Atlantic Ocean. It seems
a great way to bring a doll, or a Noah's ark, or a little wooden
cart for children to play with, but so it is. Almost all such things
come from Germany and Holland, packed in casks or great boxes,
and then are unpacked and sold when they arrive to amuse the
American children.
THE FLAGEOLET.
93
Carl thinks of making a purchase. Bosa's money.
While Rosa was still looking at the toys, Carl went on to see
the next window, and immediately exclaimed,
"Ah! Rosa, here is a music store. I am very glad. Now I
can get a flageolet. I thought there must be a music store in
America. Now I can buy a flageolet."
"Have you got any money?" asked Rosa.
" Yes," said Carl, " I have got plenty of money in my money-
belt ; and I am sure my father would think it would be a good
plan for me to buy a flageolet with some of it, only I don't know
how I can get it out."
" Why not ?" asked Rosa.
" Why, you see," said Carl, " I don't like to take off the money-
belt here in the street. Father said that I must not let any body
know that I had a belt."
After pausing a moment to consider what it was best to do in
this emergency, Carl happened to think of the little bag of gold
which he had belonging to Rosa. He put his hand in his pocket
and took it out.
" Look here!" said he.
"What is it?" asked Rosa.
" Money," replied Carl. " It belongs to you."
" To me ?" said Rosa, looking very much surprised.
"Yes," said Carl, "it belongs to you." Carl then related to
Rosa the history of this little bag. He told her how her father
had given it to his father to be taken care of, and how his father
had finally given it to Carl himself.
" I am only keeping it for you," said he.
94
THE FLAGEOLET.
Carl and Rosa take out a sovereign. The shop-keeper.
" Is the bag any easier to open than the belt ?" asked Rosa.
"Yes," said Carl, "a great deal easier."
" Then you had better open the bag," said Rosa," and get some
of the money that is there, if there is enough."
"Ah! yes," said Carl, " there is a great deal more than enough.
It is full of sovereigns."
The sovereign is an English coin. It generally passes in Amer¬
ica for four dollars and eighty-four cents.
So Carl and Rosa turned into a little alley that opened upon the
street, and there, standing close together, so that nobody could see
them, they opened the bag and took out one of the gold pieces.
They then tied the bag up again as tight as before.
"Now," said Carl, "we will go in and buy a flageolet."
So they went into the store. A man came behind the counter
to see what they wanted.
" Have you got any flageolets to sell ?" asked Carl.
For a moment the man did not answer. His attention was
wholly taken up by Jocko, who sat upon Carl's shoulder, and was
looking about the shop with a countenance full of curiosity and
wonder.
There were also quite a number of children about the door.
They had been watching Carl and the monkey, and had followed
them to the door, and were now waiting and watching there, not
daring to go in.
Presently the man so far recovered his thoughts as to say,
" A flageolet ? What do you want of a flageolet ?"
"To make music for Jocko to dance by," said Carl.
THE FLAGEOLET.
95
Jocko's performance in the toy shop.
" Is your monkey named Jocko ?" asked the man.
" Yes," said Carl.
"And can he dance?" asked the man.
"Yes," said Carl, "if-there is any way to make music for
him."
" And can you play on the flageolet ?" asked the man.
•' Yes, sir," said Carl, " I can play a few tunes."
The man then opened a drawer under the counter, and took out
a flageolet, which he handed to Carl, saying,
" Then let us see your monkey dance."
" Take off your hat, and thank the gentleman," said Carl, ad¬
dressing Jocko.
Jocko immediately took off his hat and made a bow, and then
instantly put it on again, and looked eagerly, first at the man and
then at Carl, as if to see if there was any thing more for him to
do. He also, at the same instant, leaped off from Carl's shoulder
to the counter.
"Down!" said Carl—" down to the floor!"
So Jocko jumped down to the floor. Here all the children
at the door "began to caper about with delight, and clapped their
hands.
Carl gave the end of Jocko's chain to Bosa, that she might
hold it while Jocko danced, and then, taking the flageolet, he com¬
menced playing a tune. Jocko immediately began to waltz about
the floor in a very amusing manner. The music-seller laughed
aloud.
After playing a few minutes, Carl stopped when he came to the
96
THE FLAGEOLET.
Jocko saluting the company. Paying for the flageolet. Change.
end of his tune, and Jocko, of course, immediately stopped danc¬
ing.
" Salute the company, Jocko," said Carl.
So Jocko took off his hat, and first bowed to the music-seller,
and then bowed to them. He then clapped his hat upon his head
again, and leaped upon the counter.
"Very well," said the music-seller—"very well indeed."
" And what is the price of the flageolet ?" asked Carl.
" Why, the price is two dollars and a half," said the man, " but
you can't buy it. You have not any money; at least, you have
not enough, I suppose."
" Is that enough ?" asked Carl, and as he spoke he took a sov¬
ereign out of his pocket and handed it to the man.
The man took the gold piece and threw it down upon the count¬
er to hear the ring of it.
" Where did you get this money ?" asked the man, eyeing Carl
sternly.
"We brought it over with us," said Carl. " Is it enough ?"
" Yes, it is more than enough," said the man. " The flageolet
comes to two dollars and fifty cents, and that piece is worth four
dollars and eighty-four cents. I will give you the change."
So saying, the music-seller opened a drawer and took out a two
dollar bill and some change, all of which he laid upon the counter.
Carl looked at the paper money suspiciously.
" Could not you give me some silver money ?" said he. " I
don't understand such money as that."
" I'll see," said the man. So he opened his drawer again and
THE FLAGEOLET.
97
Carl and Rosa pass through the town. The bridge.
took out four half dollars. These he gave to Carl instead of the
bill, which last he put back into the drawer again.
Carl took the money and put it in his pocket. He had the
flageolet in his hand. He then said, " Come, Jocko." Jocko
leaped upon his shoulder, and Carl immediately walked out of the
shop, Rosa following him.
Rosa expected that Carl would stop in the street immediately
after leaving the shop where he had bought the flageolet, in order
to try it, especially as there were a number of children assembled;
but Carl did not do so. The excitement of buying the flageolet
was encpgh for one occasion. In coming out from the shop, with
the instrument in his hand and the change in his pocket, he felt
as if he had performed quite a feat, and, indeed, almost as if he
had escaped a danger. He wished to rest a little while from this
performance, and consider his situation before undertaking anoth¬
er. So he walked rapidly along the sidewalk, leading Rosa by
the hand, and carrying Jocko on his shoulder. The children fol¬
lowed a little while, and then dropped off one by one, and at last
left them to themselves.
They soon passed through the town, and came to green fields
again.
"Now, Rosa," said Carl, "the first good place that we come to
we will sit down and look at our money. I want to see what
kind of money it is that the man gave me."
They did not have to go far to find a good place to sit down.
The place was under a bridge. It was where quite a large brook
ran across the road, tumbling over rocks and pebble-stones.
28 G
98
THE FLAGEOLET.
The children un ler the bridge scrutinizing their money.
"Ah!" said Carl, "hero is just the place, under this bridge.
We can find seats on the rocks, and nobody can see us."
So Carl turned out of the road into a little path which led down
to the bank of the stream. Rosa followed him. Under the bank
they found some large flat stones to -sit upon, close to the margin
of the water. Here Carl took the money which the music-seller
had given him out of his pocket, and spread it out upon the flat
stone between him and Rosa. They then began to take up the
coins one after another, to examine them.
" This," said he, taking up one of the half dollars, " must be
half a crown; but perhaps they have some other name for it in
this country. I have got four of them."
"And what is this ?" said Rosa, taking up one of the cents.
" It must be some kind of a halfpenny," said Carl. "You see
it is copper money, and it is almost as big as a halfpenny."
" I wish we knew what the name of it was," said Rosa.
"So do I," said Carl.
" I don't see how you can pay the money unless you know what
the name of it is," said Rosa.
" I can tell what the value of it is," said Carl, " by seeing how
big a piece of silver or copper it is. That is the way my father
did when he came to England. He did not understand the money
at all, and so, when he asked them what the price of any thing was,
and they told him, and he did not understand what they said, he
would take out some money from his pocket and let them show
him. Then he would observe how much silver there was in
the money that they showed him, and if it was about as much
THE FLAGEOLET.
99
Jocko in mischief. Stealing a penny.
as he would have had to pay in France, then he would know
that it was all right. You see it all depends upon how much
silver there is in it. The money is only good for the silver there
is in it."
" Or the gold," said Rosa.
" Yes, the gold, if it is gold money," said Carl.
All this time Jocko had been sitting quietly on the flat stone
looking at the money, and listening apparently with great attention
to the conversation. But as he was net capable of understanding
such a discussion as this on the value of money very well, he found
the conversation rather dull, and so he concluded to vary the en¬
tertainment a little. He accordingly took the opportunity, when
Carl's hand was for a moment off the money, to seize one of the
cents, and instantly, as soon as he had it in his paw, he ran off
with it up one of the posts of the bridge, and when he reached the
railing above, he took his seat upon it with the cent in his hand,
and began looking about on the surrounding scenery with the ut¬
most gravity imaginable.
"Now, Jocko!" exclaimed Rosa, in a piteous and complaining
tone.
Carl laughed. " Never mind," said he; "it is only one of the
copper coins, and it can't be worth a great deal; besides, he will
come back with it presently. He will come whenever I call
him."
Indeed, Rosa had the end of the cord which was fastened to
Jocko's chain in her hand, for she had instinctively seized hold
of it the moment that she saw Jocko spring away. She pulled
100
THE FLAGEOLET.
Rosa could not pull Jocko down. Music. Applause.
upon the cord a little, but Jocko clung firmly to the railing, and
would not come down.
"Let him stay there a few minutes," said Carl.
So saying, Carl gathered up the remainder of the money and
put it in his pocket. He then took off his cap, and, holding it
out, he said,
"Jocko, bring me the money."
Jocko immediately ran down the post and dropped the money
in Carl's cap.
"Now," said Rosa, "you had better try your flageolet."
" So I will," said Carl. " I should like to see if I can play all
my tunes."
Carl accordingly began to play his tunes. He found that he
had partially forgotten one or two of them, but by practicing them
two or three times he quite recovered his recollection of them.
At last, just after he had finished playing one of these tunes,
his attention, as well as Rosa's, was attracted by hearing the word
GOOD pronounced in a distinct voice somewhere above them.
They looked up, and saw two men's heads projecting over the rail¬
ing of the bridge. They were the heads of two young men who
happened to be passing by at that time, and whose attention had
been attracted by the sound of the music.
" Good, my boy," said one of the men, when Carl looked up;
" you play very well. And can your monkey dance ?"
"Yes, sir," said Carl.
" Then, if you will come to the next house, where there are
some children, I will give you a fourpence ha'penny."
THE FLAGEOLET.
101
A performance for the children. The four tunes.
What the man could mean by a fourpence ha'penny Carl could
not possibly imagine.
" Let us go," said Rosa.
"Yes, we will," said Carl.
So they all went up the path again by which they had come
down, and so joined the men on the bridge. The whole party
then walked along together toward the house. On the way the
young men asked Carl a great many questions, and seemed much
interested in the account he gave of himself.
When they arrived at the house the young men went in, leav¬
ing Carl and Rosa at the door. In a few minutes they came out
again, bringing with them three or four children. One of the
children was an infant. The infant was brought in the arms of
her sister, who was about thirteen years old.
" Salute the company, Jocko," said Carl.
At this command Jocko took off his cap and bowed to the com¬
pany, and then clapped it on his head again. He did this with
such comical motions, and at the same time with such a grave
and demure face, that all the children were greatly amused.
Carl then began to play, while Jocko danced. This perform¬
ance amused the children still more than the bow. After Carl
had finished one of his tunes they called for another, and so on
till he had played all four of them. The children still called for
more.
" I don't know any more," said Carl.
" Then play the same ones over again," said the children.
So Carl played his four tunes over again, and by that time
102
THE FLAGEOLET.
Minnie brings cake for Jocko. What the baby said to Jocko.
Jocko began to be tired of dancing. The children perceived this,
and Anne, the oldest one, who had the baby in her arms, said
they must not make him dance any more.
"He is tired," said she, "and he ought to have something to
eat." Then, looking toward Carl, she asked what he liked to eat.
" Oh, he eats almost every thing," said Carl.
" Would he like a little cake?" asked Anne.
"Yes," said Carl, "very much indeed."
" Then run in, Minnie," said Anne, " and bring him out a seed¬
cake."
So Minnie went in, and pretty soon came out again with a lit¬
tle round cake in her hand. All the children wanted to take the
cake when she brought it, but Minnie said, "No, I am going to
give it to him myself."
Minnie accordingly advanced toward Jocko, though rather tim¬
idly, and reached out the cake to him. Jocko took it at once,
but, instead of eating it, he began to smell of it in an exceedingly
impolite way.
" You ought to be ashamed, Jocko," said Rosa; "just as if the
young lady would give you any cake that was not good."
Jocko soon satisfied himself that the cake was good, and imme¬
diately began to eat it, holding it in his paws while he bit off
small pieces from the edge of it, just as any child would have
done. The baby laughed aloud, and pointed its little finger at
Jocko, saying, " Coo ! coo!"
Jocko went on eating the cake, but at the intervals of his bites
he looked first at the baby and then at the rest of the company
THE FLAGEOLET.
103
The children give Jocko a drink. Money earned.
with such a comical expression of countenance that the children
jumped and capered about with delight.
At length, when Jocko had finished the cake, the children
brought out a little milk in a saucer and gave him a drink. They
also asked Carl and Rosa if they did not wish for something to
eat, but they said that they were not hungry, as they had had a
good breakfast an hour or two before.
The young man who had engaged them to come to the house
then put his hand in his pocket, and took out a piece of money
and gave it to Carl.
" There," said he; "I promised you fourpence ha'penny, and
there is ten cents."
Carl took the money and thanked the young man for it. He
then ordered Jocko to salute the company, which Jocko did by
taking off his hat and making a bow to them, and then they went
away.
As this was the first money which Carl had earned in Amer¬
ica, he was very proud of it. He did not put it in his pocket, but
kept it in his hand, intending to stop and examine it as soon as he
got away from the house.
"It is about as big as a sixpence," said Carl, after looking at¬
tentively at the money.
He meant an English sixpence. Now, as an English sixpence
is of the value of twelve cents, Carl was tolerably correct in his
estimate of the quantity of silver in the coin.
It was not very long that Carl remained in ignorance of the
names of the coins. He learned them all at a toll-house which
104
THE FLAGEOLET.
Carl and Rosa at tlie toll-house. The toll-man's grandmother.
he and Rosa came to in the course of the forenoon. The toll¬
house was at the end of a bridge. When the children came to it,
the toll-gatherer came out to ask for the toll.
" How much is it ?" said Carl.
" Two cents," said the toll-man; " one for each of you." The
toll-man then, like every body else that Carl had any thing to do
with, seemed to forget his business, and to turn his attention whol¬
ly to Jocko. After asking several questions about Jocko, he in¬
vited the children to go into his toll-house.
"I want you to show the monkey to my old grandmother,"
said he.
So the children followed the toll-gatherer into the house. The
room was very small indeed. There was a single bed in one cor¬
ner, and near by it, by a window, there was an ancient elbow-
chair, in which sat an old woman. She was bolstered up in the
chair as if she was very infirm, but she had some knitting-work
in her hand, showing that she was not too old to knit, and her
eyes looked bright and intelligent.
" Grandmother," said the man, "I have brought in something
to make you laugh."
"Ah!" said she, "what a funny-looking monkey! I remem¬
ber seeing one when I was a child. A sailor brought it home
from the coast of Africa."
The old lady seemed very much amused with the monkey, and
she laughed heartily to see him dance. After remaining a little
while Carl said they must go, and he asked again how much the
toll was.
THE FLAGEOLET.
105
Carl leams the American coins from the toll-man.
" The toll is two cents," said the man, " but I shall not charge
you any thing. I will pay it for yon, in return for your having
amused grandmother so much with the monkey."
" How much is two cents ?" asked Carl.
" My stars !" exclaimed the woman, " don't the children know
how much two cents is? They must just be come from foreign
parts."
" Yes," replied Carl, " we have."
So saying, he took his silver and his copper money from his
pocket, and asked the toll-man if any of those were cents.
The toll-man showed him the cents, and also told him the
names of the other pieces of money. He explained to him that
the large silver coins were half dollars—not half crowns, as Carl
had supposed.
After having gained this information, Carl thanked the toll-
gatherer for his kindness in letting him go over the bridge with¬
out paying toll, and then ordered Jocko to salute the lady, which
he did with great gravity. They all then left the toll-house, and,
proceeding over the bridge, they went on their way.
106
the train.
Bidding the old lady good-by. Earnings. The plan of buying the farm.
CHAPTER VII.
the train.
The toll-house was a very pretty one,
and the children stopped a moment to look
back at it as they went over the bridge.
They saw the old lady sitting at the win¬
dow, and she nodded to them when they
looked back to bid them good-by once
more.
"Rosa," said Carl, " we have got along
very well. We have earned something
twice with Jocko. First we earned the ten
cents, and now we have earned two cents."
"Yes," said Rosa, "so we have."
"Perhaps we can earn enough," continued Carl, "to pay our
expenses on the journey all the way to Vermont, and so keep the
whole of our gold money to help buy our farm."
"Yes," said Rosa; "and you may have all my gold money."
It is true that Carl had no definite plan of buying a farm in
Vermont for himself and Rosa alone, but the recollection of his
father's desire to buy a farm still lingered in his mind and gave
direction to his thoughts ; besides, although for the present he felt
himself entirely separated from his father and mother, he did not
realize that they were dead, and so he still continued in some
THE TOLL-HOUSE.
THE TRAIN.
107
Why Jocko's shell could not be used as a contribution-box.
sense to include them in the hopes and anticipations which he
formed for the future.
" We will earn all the money we can," said Carl. " I will play
the flageolet and make Jocko dance, and you shall go round to the
spectators and take the money which they give you."
" Yes," said Rosa, " if you will lend me your cap to take it in."
On further reflection, the children thought that the shell which
they had taken from Mrs. Roundy's garden to serve as a cup for
Jocko to drink out of would do instead of a cap to be used for a
contribution-box, and for a day or two afterward they tried the
plan of so using it. But they found that this plan did not suc¬
ceed very well, for Jocko, after having had a few good drinks of
coffee and of milk out of the shell, came to associate so strongly
with the sight of it the idea of something good for himself, that
whenever Rosa produced it for the purpose of collecting money,
he would instantly stop dancing and run for a drink, and this en¬
tirely interrupted the performance.
However, in a few days Rosa had a very nice thing to collect
her money in. It was a small tambourine, which Carl thought it
best to buy. He bought it in a toy shop. With this tambourine
Rosa could keep time by beating upon it, while Carl played and
Jocko danced, and then, after the performance was ended, she car¬
ried it round to collect the money in it.
Things went on prosperously in this way for several days. The
children earned a good deal of money in the towns and villages
that they passed through, and at night they stopped at small tav¬
erns, where they could have a lodging for a small sum. Once
108
THE TRAIN.
Carl and Rosa at the tavern. Sleeping in the barn.
the tavern-keeper would not let Carl sleep in the house under pre¬
tense that he had not room for him. This was only an excuse,
however. The real reason was, he was afraid that he would steal
something, and go off with it in the morning before the family were
up. So they told him that they would give Rosa a place in the
house, but that he himself must sleep in the barn on the hay.
Carl accordingly slept in the barn. He had a very good time
there, only he was awakened once \ja the night by two horses in
the stalls below, that got into a quarrel and disturbed the whole
stable by biting each other, and neighing and kicking.
Of course, the children traveled very slowly, and at one time
they stopped several days in a large town. There was a rail¬
road passing through this town, and Carl asked one of the work¬
men if that rail-road led to Vermont. But he said no, it led to
Boston.
Carl learned a new tune for his flageolet after he had been trav¬
eling a few days. The way in which he learned it was this. He
was passing along through the country with Rosa and Jocko, when
at length, not far from a large village, he came to a place where
there was a very pretty house, ornamented with green blinds and
a piazza, which stood back a little way from the road. The house
was almost surrounded by trees and shrubbery, and it had a pret¬
ty yard by the side of it. On one side was a great gate which
opened to a broad graveled road that led up to the house. This
gate was open, and just as the children were passing by, two boys
playing horses came running down to the gate.
One of the boys was horse and the other was driver. As soon
THE TRAIN.
109
The boys playing horses. A voice from the house.
as they saw Carl and the monkey, the driver reined up his horse,
and exclaimed, with astonishment,
"Hi-yo! what's coming now? Here's a part of a menagerie.
Look, Johnnie !"
Johnnie was the youngest boy. He was the horse.
"What is that you are carrying ?" said John, addressing Carl.
" It is a monkey," said Carl.
" What do you do with him ?" asked the oldest boy.
"He dances,"replied Carl, "when I play to him on my flageolet."
" Let's see him dance," said Johnnie.
"Well," said Carl, "if you wish to see him you can."
So they stopped, and Jocko jumped down from Carl's shoulder.
Carl took the parts of the flageolet out of his pocket, and, after
putting them together, began to play a tune. Rosa beat time upon
her tambourine. Jocko, when the word of command was given
him, began to dance. The two boys were exceedingly amused.
As soon as the first tune was finished and Jocko stopped danc¬
ing, Carl and Rosa heard a voice from the house—which sounded
like that of a young lady—calling out
"Theodore!"
" What ?" said Theodore, calling out in reply. Theodore was
the oldest of the two boys.
The foliage of the trees and shrubbery was so dense that the
children could not see where the voice came from.
"What is that music?" asked the voice.
"It is a boy with a monkey," said Theodore, calling out to the
invisible speaker.
110 THE TRAIN.
Carl and Bosa with Jocko upon the piazza.
Marianne's kind offer.
"Bring him up here," said the voice.
"Marianne wants you to go up there," said Theodore, address¬
ing Carl and Rosa. "Will you go?"
"Yes," said Carl, "we have no objection."
So they all went through a great gate, and up the gravel road
that led to the house. Pretty soon they came in sight of a win¬
dow opening out upon a pretty piazza, with a young lady stand¬
ing in it and looking out. She was a very pleasant-looking girl,
and appeared to lbe about fourteen years old.
She seemed to be very much interested in Jocko, and, after see¬
ing him walk about on the piazza a few minutes, she wished to see
him dance. So Carl and Rosa began to play, and Jocko com¬
menced his performance. Marianne, as was usual in such cases,
asked for another tune, and another, until Carl had played all his
four, and then he said that he did not know any more.
" Why don't you learn some more?" she asked.
"Why, I have not got any body to teach me," said Carl.
" I will teach you a tune," said Marianne. " Do you think you
could learn one if I should play it to you upon the piano ?"
"Is it a hard tune?" asked Carl.
"No," said Marianne; "I will choose one for you that is easy."
"Well," said Carl, "I should like to try very much."
" Then come up on the piazza and listen, while I go to the piano
and play," replied Marianne.
"Yes," said Carl; "only I will first let Rosa and Jocko go
out in the yard, where they can run about by themselves, and
then they will not disturb me."
THE TRAIN.
Ill
How Marianne taught Carl a new tune.
"That's right," said Johnnie; "we want to see them run
about."
So Rosa went away with Jocko and the two boys, and she
amused the boys very much by letting them see how nimbly Jocko
could climb the trees and run along the fences. When they were
gone Carl took his station by the window, to listen to the new
tune that Marianne was going to play him.
Marianne played the tune phrase by phrase, and Carl followed
her on the flageolet. Of course, he had to play solely by his ear,
but he succeeded in doing this, and in a short time he learned to
play the tune quite well. He played it several times by himself,
Marianne listening to him to correct his mistakes. When he made
a mistake, she would show him what it was by playing that part
right on the piano. In about fifteen minutes he had learned to
play the tune perfectly.
"Now you must be careful and not forget it," said Marianne.
" Yes," said Carl, " I will. I will stop and play it several times
a day as I go along the road."
Carl then went out into the yard to find Jocko, and Marianne
came round to the door to see him climb. When she came to the
door, Rosa was holding up her arm as high as she could, so as to
let Jocko get up to the full length of his cord and chain.
" I suppose he could climb a great deal higher," said Marianne,
" if you would let go of the fastening.".
"Yes," said Carl, "he would go up to the tops of the highest
trees."
"Let go of the string, and let him try it," said Johnnie.
112
THE TRAIN.
The reason why Jocko could not have more liberty.
" I suppose that that would not be safe," said Marianne.
"No," said Carl. " He likes to climb a,bout so well that he
might run off among the trees so far as to give me a great deal of
trouble to get him back again."
"Won't he obey you when you call him back?" asked Mari¬
anne.
"Not certainly," said Carl. "I have to keep hold of the
string, and give his collar a little pull, or else he is not sure to
obey me."
"It is a pity that he will not obey you," said Johnnie.
" Yes," said Carl. " It would be a great deal better for him if
he would. I could give him a great deal more liberty if I could
only depend upon his obeying me."
" I wish you had a longer string," said Johnnie.
" I wish I had," said Carl.
" I could go and get my kite-string," said Theodore.
" That will do very well," said Carl.
So Theodore ran off to get his kite-string. In a few minutes
he returned, bringing it with him in his hand. Carl tied one end
of the string to the end of Jocko's cord, and then said,
" Now, Jocko, you may climb as high as you will."
Jocko seemed very much pleased with this apparent liberty,
and away he went up the trees as nimbly as a squirrel. He
would run along the limbs, leaping from branch to branch, catch¬
ing sometimes by so slender a twig that he would swing to and
fro some time before he got up to where his footing was secure.
Sometimes he would hang by a foot, aud sometimes by a hand,
THE TRAIN.
113
Jocko in the tree-top. Keluctant obedience.
and lie would tarn somersets over and over in the most comical
manner imaginable.*
After continuing the performance as long as was desirable, Carl
gently pulled the cord, and called out,
" Come down, Jocko! Come down!"
Jocko was very reluctant to come down. Monkeys are made
to live on trees, and Jocko felt more at home among the lofty
branches than he had done any where before since he had been in
America. He, however, felt the pull of the collar about his neck,
and knew that he must obey. So he began to come down, but
he came as slowly as he could, and took all possible round¬
about ways in descending from branch to branch. Where there
was a perfectly good way to walk straight along, he would not
walk in it, but would go hopping from one limb to another, across
the most dangerous places that he could find ; and whenever Carl
slackened the string in the least, he would take advantage of it to
leap up again a little way. He, however, at last reached the
ground, and then Carl untied the end of the kite-string from the cord,
and Jocko was brought back again to his usual close confinement.
"Now," said Theodore, "let us give him something to eat and
drink, to pay him for climbing. What does he like ?"
" He likes milk to drink," said Carl, " but he does not need
any pay for climbing. He likes climbing better than any thing
else he can possibly do."
" We'll pay him, nevertheless," said Marianne. " Wait here a
moment, and I will go and get some milk."
* See Frontispiece.
28 H
114
THE TRAIN.
Finding Jocko after his climb. Marianne's promise. The whistle.
So Marianne went into the house and brought out a little milk
in a mug. While she was gone Rosa had taken out the shell, so
as to have it all ready. Marianne poured the milk into the shell,
and then Jocko lapped it up. The children were all much amused
to see him do it, and especially to observe the mock solemnity of
his countenance as he looked about upon the spectators while he
continued his drinking.
" And now," said Carl, when Jocko had drunk up all the milk,
" we will go; and I am very much obliged to you," he added,
turning to Marianne, "for teaching me a new tune."
" Play it once before you go," said Marianne, " so as to be sure
that you remember it."
So Carl put the parts of the flageolet together, and played the
tune while Theodore was winding up the kite-twine. Johnnie
proposed that Jocko should dance again, but Marianne said that
they ought not to make him dance any more. "He must be
tired," said she, " after all his climbing."
So Jocko lay down on the grass to rest while Carl rehearsed
the new tune. He played it perfectly right.
"You play it as well as I can," said Marianne. "Now take
good care not to forget it, and if you come this way again, and
will stop here, I will teach you another."
In the afternoon of the same day when this occurrence took
place, Carl, in coming to the top of a hill, as he was walking along
the road, heard the sound of a locomotive whistle.
" Hark!" said Carl; " I hear a loud whistle."
"So do I," said Rosa.
THE TEAIN.
115
Carl and Rosa watching the train of cars in the valley.
" Do you know what that is a sign of?" asked Carl.
"It is a sign that we are coming to a rail-road," said Rosa.
"Yes," said Carl; "and perhaps it is a rail-road leading to
Vermont."
As he said this, Carl led the way to a high rock which he saw
by the road side, and after he had helped Rosa to the top of it he
climbed up himself, and then they both looked toward the valley.
They now saw a white cloud of vapor running rapidly along among
the trees on the other side of the valley. Presently the whistle
sounded again, and soon afterward a loud rumbling sound sud¬
denly burst upon their hearing, and, after continuing a few min¬
utes, as suddenly ceased.
" The train has just gone over a bridge," said Carl.
" How do you know that," asked Rosa.
" Because that is the sound that the train always makes," re¬
plied Carl, " when it is going over a bridge."
"Perhaps that rail-road leads to Vermont," suggested Rosa.
" Perhaps it does," said Carl; "we will go to it and see."
So they returned to the road and continued their journey. They
went down into the valley, and presently they came to a stream.
There was a bridge across the stream at the place where the road
crossed it.
" Is this the bridge that the train went over when it made a
noise ?" asked Rosa.
" No," replied Carl, "this is not a rail-road bridge. This is a
common bridge. Don't you see that there are not any rails upon
it?"
116
THE TRAIN.
How Carl knew the direction of Vermont. Another train of cars.
The children went over the bridge, and, after continuing their
way for some little time longer, they came to the rail-road.
" Here it is," said Rosa. " Now how shall we find whether it
goes to Vermont or not?"
" We must walk along till we come to a station," said Carl.
So they walked on. There was a pathway along the side of the
rail-road, where it was very convenient for them to go. They
turned into this path, taking the direction which Carl supposed
would lead to Yermont.
" I don't see how you know the way to go," said Rosa.
" I go toward the north," said Carl. " Don't you remember
that the man I inquired of a good many days ago told me that
Yermont was toward the north, and that I must always go in that
direction ?"
"Yes," said Rosa; "but how do you know which way the
north is ?"
" I know by the sun," said Carl. " To go to the north, in the
morning we must have the sun on our right hand ; at noon we
must have it behind us ; and in the afternoon on our left."
Carl had learned this from one of the sailors at sea.
" You see," continued Carl, " it is now afternoon, and, of course,
I must have the sun on my left hand, and I have to turn this way
in order to bring it on my left hand."
" I think it is very puzzling," said Rosa.
After walking along the track for about half an hour, the chil¬
dren heard a whistling behind them.
"Ah!" said Carl, "here is another train coming."
THE TKAIN.
117
Carl and Rosa counting up their earnings. The station.
In a few minutes the train came up. They stood out of the
way when it came, and it ran by them at great speed, and with a
noise like thunder.
" I wonder if it is going to Vermont," said Rosa.
" I don't know," replied Carl; " if it is, I wish we were in it."
" Have we got money enough to pay?" said Rosa.
"We have got enough to pay for a part of the way," replied
Carl. "I will look at our money, and see how much we have got."
So Carl sat down on the grass, Rosa "by his side, and set him¬
self to work to count their money. By their money they meant
the silver and copper money which they had earned by their ex¬
hibition of Jocko along the road. The gold money in the belt and
in the purse they considered in some sense sacred, and, with the
exception of the single sovereign which they had taken for the pur¬
chase of a flageolet, they had not meddled with it at all.
They found, on counting their money, that they had about three
dollars and a half, with a few cents over. After counting it, Carl
put it back into his pocket, and then they all went on again.
In about half an hour more they came to a station. It was near
a small and pleasant village. They were pretty tired when they
reached the station, and so they sat down upon the edge of the
platform to rest.
Pretty soon a man came out of a door which led into the place
where passengers bought their tickets, and, seeing the children sit¬
ting on the platform, he felt curious to know who they were, and
where they were going.
" Is that your monkey ?" said he to Carl.
118
THE TKAIN.
Jocko's comical salutation. Carl's conversation at the ticket-office.
"Yes, sir," said Carl.
The monkey took off his hat and made a low bow to the gentle¬
man. He then immediately put his hat on his head again, and
looked eagerly about, first at the man and then at Carl, with an
anxious expression of countenance, as if he did not know whether
what he had done was to be considered a good deed or a piece of
mischief.
The station-man evidently considered it a good deed, for he
laughed outright, and said, "Well done!"
"Are you traveling?" asked the man.
"Yes, sir," said Carl.
"And which way are you going?" said the man.
"We are going to Vermont," said Carl. " Does this rail-road
lead that way ?"
"Yes," said the man, " it leads toward Vermont. What part
of Vermont do you want to go to ?"
"I don't know,sir, exactly,"replied Carl. " I don't know much
about the different parts of Vermont. I want to go to some part
where I can get a place as a farmer's boy."
"As a farmer's boy ?" repeated the man, much surprised.
"Yes, sir," said Carl.
"And who is this girl?" asked the man.
" She is my sister," replied Carl.
The man's curiosity was now fully aroused, and he proceeded
to question Carl particularly about his history. Carl told him
about the voyage, and the sickness and disappearance of his father
and mother, and the shipwreck. He also gave him a brief account
THE TKAIN.
119
The station-master's invitation. The passing train.
of the adventures which he and Rosa had met with since they land¬
ed, and of the money which they had received for the exhibition*
of Jocko. He told the man that they had earned three dollars
and a half, and that they wished to spend that in paying their fare
toward Vermont as far as it would go.
"And how did you know any thing about Vermont ?" asked the
man.
"A lady that was on board the ship told me about it," said Carl.
The man was silent a few minutes after hearing this story, and
seemed to be considering what to do. After a short interval, dur¬
ing which he walked up and down the platform by himself, he
came back to the children, and said to Carl,
" I'll help you about getting to Vermont, my boy, but you can't
go to-night. You must go home with me, and stay to-night at my
house, and to-morrow morning you shall go on."
The man said, moreover, that the children must wait at the sta¬
tion about half an hour, until the next train had come and gone,
and that then he would show them the way to his home.
" And when you get there," said he, " my wife will give you
some supper—Jocko and all."
So they waited half an hour, and at length the train came in.
It remained only a few minutes at the station, and then went on
again. Some passengers got out and others got in. The station-
man assisted them, and he supplied those who were going in the
train with tickets. After the train had gone and the station had
become quiet again, he came to the children, and said that he was
now ready to show them the way to his house.
120
THE TRAIN.
The station-master's residence. The children made welcome.
So he walked along, and they followed him. In a short time
they came to a small house that stood near the entrance of the
village. There was a very pretty garden by the side of it, and
the entrance to the house was by a path which led through this
garden. There was a small gate to go through from the road.
The man opened this gate, and held it open while the children
went in.
Then he led the way along this path till he came to the front
door of the house; but, instead of going in at the front door, he
went on to a door a little farther back, which seemed to lead to
the kitchen. There was a fire in the fire-place of the kitchen, but
the door and the window were open, as it was a pleasant summer's
day. There was a young woman at the door when the children
came up to it, and she looked toward them with an expression of
mingled kindness and curiosity.
" Mary," said the man, " I have brought you some company."
Mary moved back to make room for the children to come in,
and welcomed them as they entered with a smile. Her husband
-explained to her the circumstances in which the children were
placed, and asked her if she could give them some supper and
keep them all night. She said she rather thought she could. She
spoke the words, however, in a tone and manner that indicated
that it would give her the greatest pleasure to do what her hus¬
band had proposed.
The children spent the night at the house, and were taken care
of in the best possible manner.
a good lodging.
121
A true Christian.
Mary's principle of doing good.
CHAPTER VIII.
a good lodging.
Mary, the station-master's wife, was a
true Christian. A true Christian is one
J., who, among other characteristics, lives to
do good. The work of doing good, accord¬
ing to the ideas of many people, consists
in giving away money. But this was not
Mary's notion. It was her principle to
use, in all her benevolent efforts, as little
money as possible. This was partly be¬
cause she had but little money to spare,
MAET- but chiefly because she had the good sense
to perceive that, to do good with money, or at least by giving
away money, is an exceedingly difficult and delicate operation, and
she had very little confidence in being able to manage it.
She was right in this. It is an exceedingly difficult thing to
do good with money; or, rather, it is exceedingly difficult to do
good in this way without, at the same time, indirectly doing harm
which shall more than counterbalance the good. Accordingly, for
both these reasons, Mary endeavored, in all her benevolent opera¬
tions, to use as little money as possible.
The way in which the absolute giving away of money to those
who are in need does harm, is, it tends to make them lose their
122
A GOOD LODGING.
Doing good with money is not always the best way.
self-respect, and causes them to become more and more willing to
live on charity. They live on the charity of their first benefac¬
tress as long as she continues to supply them, and then, when, on
account of her death, or her removal to another place, or for any
other cause, these supplies fail, they become common beggars. If
they do not directly beg, they live by representing their wants and
their distress here and there among those who are able to give
them what they require, in hopes of inducing them to give, and so
they lead idle and dependent lives, always on the brink of want
and misery.
There are various other evils that flow indirectly from the in¬
judicious giving of money in charity which I have not time here
fully to describe. Mary had learned them by observing them with
her own eyes. She lived among poor people, and she could see
very clearly the ill effects which were sometimes produced by the
gifts of money bestowed upon them by the rich, and this was an
additional reason why she determined as much as possible to avoid
them.
Still her heart was bent on doing good. She particularly loved
children, but she had none of her own—that is, she had none when
Carl and Rosa came to her house. She had had two, and while
they lived she loved them very dearly. When they died, she
was at first overwhelmed with sorrow, but after a time she arose
and said,
" God has taken my dear children away from me. He has good
reasons for it, I know, and I will be satisfied. I will show that I
am satisfied by seeing how happy I can be with the blessings that
A GOOD LODGING.
123
Conversation between Mary and the children.
he has left me, and how much good I can do to all the other chil¬
dren that I see and know."
So Mary became the friend and helper of all the children in the
neighborhood. They all learned to love her, and she, in her turn,
loved them. So she lived a very happy life. Almost every body
is happy that lives to love and be loved in return.
Mary was, of course, greatly pleased when her husband came
home and brought Carl and Rosa. Her husband, in fact, knew
that she would be pleased.
As soon as her husband had gone away, she gave the children
a seat near a pleasant window, and then asked them if they were
very hungry.
Carl said that they were not particularly so.
" Because," said Mary, " if you are, I will give you something
to eat now. If not, we will wait till my husband comes back."
"We would rather wait till he comes back," said Carl.
Mary then began to ask the children questions about themselves
and their history.
" I suppose you are traveling about the country to show your
monkey," said she.
" Not exactly that," said Carl. "We are trying to get to Ver¬
mont. I want to go upon a farm. A lady told me there were
farms in Vermont."
This reply excited Mary's curiosity more than ever, and she
proceeded to question the children more particularly in regard to
the details of their history. They gave her a full account of them¬
selves. They told her about their setting out from Europe with
124
A GOOD LODGING.
Carl and Rosa had no baggage to carry.
their parents in the packet ship, and about their voyage across the
Atlantic, and the sickness which broke out on board. They re¬
lated to her, moreover, the manner in which Carl's father and
mother, and Rosa's father, had been taken away from them, and
expressed their fears that they had all died and been buried at
sea. Finally, they gave an account of their wreck and their es¬
cape to the shore, and then related the adventures that they had
met with since they landed.
" And now," said Mary, " what you want is to get to Vermont,
and see if you can find a place on a farm ? Well, I think that is
a very good plan, and I will help you on with it all in my power."
It was a general rule with Mary not to form plans herself for
the persons that she was going to help, but to aid them in 'execut¬
ing the plans which they had formed, provided that she saw no
objection to them.
" They shall stay here to-night," said Mary to herself, " and I
will be a mother to them, and to-morrow morning they shall pro¬
ceed on their journey."
" Children," said she, " did you leave your bundle at the sta¬
tion ?"
"We have not any bundle," said Carl.
" Then you have no clothes except those you have on ?" said
Mary.
Carl said that they had not. " There was no time," he said,
" to save any thing from the ship—at least there was not while we
remained by the wreck."
"And how long is it since you landed?" asked Mary.
A GOOD LODGING.
125
Mary employs Carl and Rosa in helping her.
" I don't know exactly," said Carl. " It lias been a good many-
days, but I do not know how many."
Pretty soon' after this Mary went out of the room, but she re¬
turned again after a little time, and then began to busy herself
about supper. She asked Carl if he was very tired from walk¬
ing. Carl said that he was not.
" Then," said she, " perhaps you would be willing to help me
a little."
Carl said that he should be very glad to help her, if there was
any thing he could do; and Rosa said that she should be glad to
help too.
Mary then gave Carl a pail, and asked him to go out to the
pump in the yard, and pump it full of water.
" Not full, however," she added—" pump it about two thirds
full, and then the water will not spill over you when you are bring¬
ing it in. When you get to the door, set it down upon the stone
step a minute, to let the water drain off from the sides of the pail,
so that it may not drop upon the floor, and then I will come and
bring it in."
Carl executed this order with great care and precision. Rosa
went with him. There was a little iron hook upon the nose of
the pump, and Carl hung the pail upon this hook, and then let
Rosa pump until the pail was about two thirds full. Then he
carried it to the step of the door, and set it down there as Mary
had directed.
Their being thus permitted to do something to help their host¬
ess made them feel quite at home in the strange place that they
126
A GOOD LODGING.
The trellis in the yard. Jocko's response.
had come to. Indeed, it was for the purpose of making them feel
at home that Mary gave them this work to do.
" Now, children," said Mary, when they had brought the pail of
water, "you may walk about the yard a little while, and see what
you can find to amuse you, and then I shall want to send you
away to do an errand. "
So Carl and Rosa took a walk about the yard. Jocko all this
time remained at the door, where he had been left when Carl and
Rosa first went into the house. There was a trellis by the side
of the door, with a honeysuckle growing upon it. Carl fastened
the end of Jocko's cord to one of the bars of this trellis, and Jocko,
after climbing up as high as his cord would allow, sat quietly
there, and employed himself in looking about with an air of great
dignity, and watching every body that passed in and out.
Carl and Rosa stopped a moment to look at Jocko as they
went by.
" Well, Jocko," said Carl, " are you contented ?"
Jocko, instead of answering, took off his hat and made a bow.
He always did this when Carl said any thing to him that he did
not understand. He supposed that it was some order or other,
and so he obeyed the one that was the easiest to obey—to take
oft* his hat and make a bow.
" I suppose he means yes by that," said Rosa.
" I suppose so too," said Carl. " It is all the way that he can
say yes."
" I wish he could talk," said Rosa.
"So do I," said Carl.
A GOOD LODGING.
128
A GOOD LODGING.
Rosa conceives the idea of teaching Jocko to talk. The errand.
" Why don't you teach him ?" asked Rosa.
" Oh, he could not learn," said Carl.
" Did you ever try to teach him ?" asked Rosa.
"No," said Carl, "not particularly; but I am sure that he
could not learn."
" Say yes, Jocko," said Rosa, speaking the word very distinct-
ly—"YES."
Jocko took off his hat and made a bow, and then immediately
clapped his hat on again with a very quick motion, and looked an¬
other way.
" He can't learn," said Carl, " and he does not like to have you
try to teach him."
So Carl walked away, and Rosa followed him. She said, how¬
ever, that she meant to try again to teach him some day when she
had more time.
The children walked about the yard some time, and they found
a great many things to amuse them. There were flowers growing
here and there in beds and borders, and little seats; and round
behind a corner of the house there was a hencoop, with a hen and
some chickens in it.
After seeing every thing in the yard, the children went back
again to the kitchen door, and said that they were ready to go on
the errand. So Mary gave them the direction. She said that
they must pass through a little gate which she pointed out to them
in the back corner of the yard, and then proceed along a path
which led through a garden until they came to another gate.
" Just behind this other gate," continued Mary, " you will see
A GOOD LODGING.
129
Mary's object in sending for Mrs. Byles. The supper.
a small house standing near a stream of water. You will see a
place near the water where there has been a fire under a little
shed, and a kettle over it. There is a woman that lives in that
house named Mrs. Byles. You must knock, and Mrs. Byles will
come to the door. Tell her I want her to come to my house this
evening at eight o'clock."
The children were much pleased at receiving this commission,
and they set off immediately to execute it. They had no difficul¬
ty in finding Mrs. Byles's house, and they delivered the message.
Mrs. Byles said that she would come.
The children then returned and reported to Mary that they had
done the errand. They did not know what Mrs. Byles was want¬
ed for, "but the truth was that she was a washerwoman, and Mary
wanted her to wash the children's under-clothes after they had
gone to bed. She knew that it was very necessary for their com¬
fort, and also for their health, that their clothes should be washed,
and as they had no change, the washing could only be done when
they were in bed.
Very soon after this Mary's husband came in, and it was not
long before supper was ready. Before they sat down to the sup¬
per the children washed their faces and hands at the pump, in a
basin which Mary gave them for this purpose, and as their clothes
were all neat'and whole, they made a very respectable appearance
as they sat at the table. The supper was excellent, and they both
enjoyed it very much.
While they were at the table Mary asked what Jocko would
have for his supper. Carl said that he liked almost every thing,
28 I
130
A GOOD LODGING.
Jocko's sumptuous meal. Putting Eosa to toed.
and that he would be very thankful for whatever might be left at
the table. So Mary laid out for him an apple, a biscuit, two
pieces of hard cake, and some milk, which Rosa said she would
pour into his shell. With these things Jocko made a most sump¬
tuous meal.
About half an hour after supper Mary said it was time for the
children to go to bed, but that first they were to wash themselves.
She said that Rosa should go first, and afterward Carl. So she
led Eosa into a small back room where there was a tub half full
of warm water. On one side there was a table, with soap and
towels.
" Now, Rosa," said Mary, " you must take off your clothes and
wash yourself thoroughly, especially your head. I will stay and
help you do it."
So Eosa undressed herself and got into the tub. Mary helped
her at the bath, and, after the bath was over, she combed and dried
her hair. She then gave her a clean night-dress to put on. It
was one that she provided from her own stores. She then led her
up a pair of narrow back stairs to a little room where there was a
bed under a slanting roof. Eosa got into the bed full of delight.
Mary heard her say her prayers, and then bade her good-night.
Eosa was kept awake some little time by excitement and pleasure,
but at last she fell asleep.
Mary then went down stairs and prepared a fresh supply of
water for Carl, and he took his bath just as Eosa had done. When
he came out of his bath he put on a night-gown which Mary had
left for him, and then she came and combed and dried his hair, as
A GOOD LODGING.
131
Carl's satisfaction. Evening prayers. Where Jocko slept.
she had done Rosa's. Carl said that he had not felt so well as he
did then since he set sail from Europe.
Mary then led him up stairs, and showed him a sleeping-place
similar to the one where Rosa was. She heard him say his pray¬
ers too. Before he began, Carl asked her whether he should say
them in Italian or in English.
" Which do you like best to say them in?" asked Mary.
"In Italian," said Carl; "for that was the way my mother
taught them to me when I was a little boy."
" Very well," said Mary; " say them in Italian, then."
So Carl said his prayers in Italian, while Mary sat by his side.
When he had finished, he asked her whether she could understand
his prayer.
" No," said Mary ; " but that is of no consequence. It is no
matter whether I understand it or not. And now you can go to
sleep. Sleep as long as you please to-morrow morning. I will
call you when it is time for you to get up."
So Mary went away, and Carl was soon fast asleep.
Jocko slept that night on a beam in the back room. Carl put
him there while Rosa was taking her bath. He fastened the end
of the cord to a staple which he found near, in order to prevent
Jocko from running away in the night.
" I don't think you would be foolish enough to run away," he
said ; " but you are pretty foolish sometimes, so it is best to be
sure."
At eight o'clock that evening Mrs.Byles came round, according
to the appointment which had been made with her. Mary gave her
132
A GOOD LODGING.
Breakfast. Parting conversation between Carl and Mary.
the children's clothes to wash, and arranged with her that they
should be washed that night, and ironed very early in the morn¬
ing. The result of this arrangement was, that when the children
awoke the next morning, they each found their clothes lying, neat¬
ly folded, upon a chair "by the bedside, as nice and fresh as if they
were new, and still warm from the ironing.
They dressed themselves, full of delight and joy, and went down
stairs to breakfast. The station-master himself had gone to the
station. He had had his breakfast before; so Mary gave the chil¬
dren a breakfast by themselves, and an excellent one it was.
Carl had been accustomed to pay for his and Mary's lodging,
and he expected to pay in the cars. Accordingly, ^Rjhen the time
arrived for setting out upon the journey, he asked Mary how much
he should pay.
"Why!" said she, surprised, "have you got any money?"
"Yes, indeed," said Carl, "we have got plenty of money."
Carl referred in this, not to the gold that he had in the purse
and in the money-belt*, but to the three dollars and a half which he
had earned by means of Jocko. He considered that he had plen¬
ty of money, both because he regarded this as a large sum iji it¬
self, and also because he felt confident that he could at any time
earn more.
• Mary questioned Carl more particularly in regard to his funds,
and to convince her of the truth of what he said, he took out the
loose money which he had and showed it to her.
Carl was convinced that there could not be any danger in show¬
ing his kind protectress his gold money, but as his father had en-
A GOOD LODGING.
133
Mary allows Carl and Eosa to pay for the washing, but not for their lodging.
joined it upon him not to show it to any body, he thought it best
to say nothing about it.
" When at last I get a good place in Vermont," said he to him¬
self, " I will give my master the money to keep, but till then it
shall be a secret for Eosa and me alone to know."
Mary was very much pleased to know how much money Carl
had got, reckoning only the spare silver.
" I am very glad," said she. " It is a great deal better for you
to earn your own living, and pay your own way, than to live on
the charity of other people. In so doing you feel independent,
and are all the time rising ; whereas, if you live upon what peo¬
ple give you, then you are all the time sinking, and sooner or later
you become beggars, and nothing more. I did not intend that
you should pay any thing for what you have had here; but since
I find you can, I shall let you do it; and you will think better of
yourself, and I shall think better of you, for being independent."
"We would a great deal rather pay," said Carl. "But we
shall be just as much obliged to you, notwithstanding."
"There will only be the washing to pay for," said Mary, "for
that is all the money I have to pay out for you: that is ten
cents."
"Is that all?" asked Carl.
"Yes," replied Mary. "As for your sleeping here and your
supper, you have nothing to pay, for you have only been visitors.^
People never pay for their supper and bed when they are visiting.
My husband invited you to come here of his own accord. He did
it to please me, and it did please me very much indeed ; and all the
134
A GOOD LODGING.
Mary's advice to Carl. Independence. Jocko again.
expense you have put me to is ten cents; that is what I shall
pay to Mrs. Byles."
So Carl took the money out of his pocket and gave it to Mary,
and she placed it on a corner of the mantel-piece to Tbe ready for
Mrs. Byles.
"And now you must go on," said Mary, "and pay your own
way every where, and be independent. Don't expect people to
give you money or any thing else. You must not even wish that
they should. That would "be treating you as if you were beggars.
But you are not beggars. You are earning your living by exhib¬
iting Jocko. You can earn a very good living in that way, and
perhaps lay up money. So don't let people ever treat you as if
you were beggars."
" But we must not forget Jocko," continued Mary, interrupting
herself. "It is time for him to have his breakfast."
So saying, she went to the table which the children had just
left, and took up a variety of things for Jocko, and put them on a
plate. Rosa, at the same time, took out the shell, so as to have it
ready for Jocko's drink. The drink was made by putting a little
coffee into a small mug of milk, and sweetening it well.
Jocko was overjoyed to see his breakfast coming, and he leaped
up and down the trellis with delight. When the plate was put
upon the ground he came down to it, but he did not begin to eat
till Rosa had given him some coffee from the shell.
Rosa, however, only poured out a small quantity at first.
" That's enough for you now," said she. " You shall have the
rest at the end of your breakfast."
A GOOD LODGING.
135
Jocko's politeness. Good wishes. Carl's promise.
Mary stood by, looking on with great interest to witness the
joy which the monkey seemed to manifest in having so good a
meal. Every now and then Jocko recognized her presence, and
acknowledged the honor which she did him by taking off his hat
and making a bow to her. He did this always in a ludicrously
hurried manner, and then put the hat on his head again very
quick, and looked around anxiously and eagerly to Carl, as if he
did not know whether he had done right or wrong.
At length the time arrived for the children to set out on their
journey. Mary accompanied them to the gate. As they were
going, she said she was very glad they came to her house, and she
hoped they would be successful in getting good places in Ver¬
mont.
" I shall want very much to hear from you," said she, " and to
know how you get along. Could you not write me a letter and
tell me ?"
"We don't know how to write," said Carl, sorrowfully.
"Ah! that's a pity," said Mary. "Do you know how to
read ?"
'i' A little," said Carl: "I can read a little, and I read every day
in my little red Testament, so as to learn to read better."
" That's an excellent plan," said Mary; " and you must learn
to write the first opportunity."
" I will," said Carl.
"And, as soon as you have learned to write," continued Mary,
"write a letter to me, and send it to the care of my husband.
Wait a minute, and I will give you the address."
136
A GOOD LODGING.
What the children said about the station-master's wife.
So Mary went back into the house, and soon returned with a
small piece of paper, on which was written her husband's name
and place of residence. She gave this to Carl, and he put it in
his pocket. She then bade Carl and Rosa good-by, and they
went away.
"How kind she has been to us!" said Carl, as they walked
along.
"Yes," said Rosa, "very kind indeed."
" And she is the first person we have seen who did not seem to
care any thing about Jocko," added Carl.
" She liked to see him eat his breakfast," suggested Rosa.
" True," said Carl; " but she did not ask to see him play any
of his tricks, or dance, or any thing. I don't believe she would
care at all for any such things."
"No," said Eosa, "she only seemed to care for us."
VERMONT.
137
A comical spectacle.
The remarkably low price of tickets.
CHAPTER IX.
vermont.
JOCKO DRINKING.
Jocko drinking from Rosa's shell was
a spectacle to make the gravest person
laugh, especially when, as was his usual
custom, he interrupted his draft every mo¬
ment to take off his hat and bow to the
spectators. Even Mary, who paid so lit¬
tle attention in general to the monkey's an¬
tics, was amused with this performance,
though her interest in it was, after all, per¬
haps, chiefly an interest to see how much
Jocko enjoyed his breakfast.
When at length the children reached the station, they found
that the station-master was ready to receive them. Carl told him
that they wanted to go as far on the road toward Vermont as their
money would carry them, which he said was three dollars and a half.
The station-master said that he could only receive pay for about
one hundred miles, and that that would only cost one dollar.
"For both of us ?" asked Carl.
"Yes, for both of you," said the man.
"And for Jocko too?" said Rosa.
" Yes," said the man, smiling, " I shall not charge any thing for
Jocko."
138
VERMONT.
What the station-master said to Carl. The children in the cars.
Indeed, the station-master charged less than half price for Carl
and Rosa. He might have allowed them to go free by giving them
what is called a pass, which would have served with the conduct¬
ors of the train instead of a ticket. But he acted on his wife's
principle, and was very averse to so exercising charity as to turn
people into Ibeggars, or to confirm them in habits of begging.
So he took the dollar, and gave Carl regular tickets, one for him¬
self and one for Rosa.
"There," said he, "you pay your way just like all the other
passengers, and you have as good a right to your seats as any of
the rest of them have to theirs. Don't be afraid, therefore. This
is a free country, and every one that earns his living and pays his
way has equal rights, in all public conveyances, with every one
else."
The hearing of these words, and the consciousness that he was
really paying his way and was no beggar, made Carl feel more like
a man than he had ever felt before—more, in fact, than it is pos¬
sible for such a boy to feel in any of the countries of Europe.
The station-master also, with the tickets, gave Carl a paper,
which he told him he had better show to the conductors in the
cars. A short time after this business was arranged a train came,
and the station-master took the children into a car and gave them
a seat. They had a very pleasant seat all to themselves. Rosa
sat next to the window, and Jocko nestled down on the seat be¬
tween her and Carl.
In a few minutes .the train started. It was a new sensation to
all three of the travelers, for neither of them had ever been in a
1
A child spies out Jocko in the cars.
VERMONT.
The conductor.
139
A contribution.
rail-road carriage before. Jocko was afraid, but Carl and Rosa
were greatly pleased.
The journey in the cars proved to be a very prosperous one.
In a short time after they commenced it the attention of the peo¬
ple who sat near Carl and Rosa was attracted to Jocko. He was
first spied by a child who sat in the seat before them, and who, in
kneeling up in his seat and looking around, saw Jocko's face peep¬
ing out between Carl and Rosa. He immediately uttered a loud
exclamation of surprise and delight, which caused his mother to
turn round. She asked what the animal was. Carl told her it
was a monkey, and he drew Jocko out to let her And the child
see him.
Presently, when the conductor came along to collect the tickets,
he stopped to look at Jocko, and Carl took that opportunity to
hand him the paper which the station-master had given him. The
conductor read it, and then gave it back to Carl again, saying at
the same time,
" Yes, I will come back and see you again by-and-by." So he
left them and went on down the cars, collecting his tickets.
The people were so much amused with Jocko, and they became
so much interested in Carl and Rosa, and in the accounts of their
adventures which Carl gave them in answer to the questions which
they asked, that presently they began to give them small sums of
money. They called upon Rosa to hold out her tambourine for
the purpose of receiving the money, and the people in distant seats
beckoned her to go down the cars so that they might all con¬
tribute. When Carl counted the money at the end of the col-
140
YEEMONT.
Attentive rail-road conductors. The terminus. A tavern.
lection, he found that it amounted to between thirty and forty-
cents.
In the course of the day, as new passengers came in, and as the
children changed their places according to the directions of the
conductor, they found new companies of spectators, so that, in all,
they received that day a little more than the dollar which they
had paid for their fare.
" The ride in the cars will not cost us any thing," said Carl.
"That's very good luck for us," said Rosa. "We can have
another ride to-morrow, if we wish."
The paper which the station-master had given to Carl, and
which Carl showed the conductors as he went along, seemed to
cause them to pay particular attention to him and Rosa, and at
every stopping-place where amy change was to be made, they al¬
ways came and told them what to do. When night came, and
the train they were in reached the end of its journey, the conductor
that was then in charge pointed out to them a tavern where they
could go and spend the night.
"Have you got any money?" said the conductor.
"Yes, sir," said Carl, " we have got a plenty."
" Because they won't turn you away from that house, even if
you have not got any money."
The children went to the tavern which the conductor had indi¬
cated, and were very kindly received. They spent the night there.
It was now getting toward the fall of the year, so that the even¬
ings were cool, and on this evening there was a fire in the parlor
of the hotel. This parlor was a large room in the second story.
VERMONT.
141
The children make new acquaintances at the tavern.
There were various other parties of travelers in the room. These
were people that had arrived in the train, or had come from the
interior of the country in stages, with the view of taking some
train the next morning.
Among the rest were two neat and tidy-looking girls. They
were factory-girls. They had been at work in a factory in Massa¬
chusetts, and were now going home to make a visit. It happened
that they were seated that evening near Carl and Rosa, and they
fell into conversation with them. The girls took quite an interest
in Rosa, and soon Carl joined in the conversation. The girls told
him that they lived in Vermont, and they gave him some informa¬
tion about the state, and the part of it where they would Be most
likely to obtain situations.
44 Go with us to-morrow," said they, 44 and we will show you
the way."
Carl determined to accept this offer, and the next morning he
and Rosa got up very early, on "being awakened by. a knock at
the doors which one of the girls made, and, dressing themselves
as quick as they could, they went down to the breakfast-room.
After breakfast they went with the girls to the station, and then,
after buying their tickets for the place that the girls named to
them, which was not very far from the town where they then
were, they took their places in the car directly behind the two
girls.
The road lay through a very pleasant country. It followed the
bank of a large river. Sometimes there were broad green fields
to be seen extending each way from the river to a great distance.
142
VERMONT.
Vermont. Cold winters. The stranger's prediction.
At other times the hills and the mountains came down close to
the water's edge, barely allowing room for the water to get by.
" Is all this Vermont ?" said Carl to one of the girls.
" Yes," said she, " this is all Vermont. How do you like it ?"
" I like it very much indeed," said Carl.
"It looks very pleasant now," said she, "but the winters are
very long and cold. For five or six months the ground is entire¬
ly covered with snow. How do you think you will like that ?"
"I shall like it very well," replied Carl, "and so will Rosa,
but I don't know how Jocko will bear it."
" Why, can he not bear cold well ?" asked the girls.
"No," replied Carl, "he can not bear it at all."
" Then," said the girl, " I don't know what he will do."
There was a rather rough-looking man, with a weather-beaten
face, sitting in the seat opposite to Carl's, and directly across the
passage, and though he had not appeared to be listening to the
conversation, he here showed that he had been listening by say-
ing>
" I can tell you what he will do."
"What, sir?" asked Carl.
" He will die," replied the man. " He won't live out half the
first winter. Monkeys are made for tropical regions. I've seen
them often on the coast of Africa, and you may depend upon it
they won't stand a Vermont winter—snow five feet deep on a level,
and thermometer twenty degrees below zero."
This intelligence struck Carl's mind heavily like a blow. For
some time he was silent. He did not know what to think or say.
VERMONT.
143
Carl's sorrowful reflections. The valley. Leaving the train.
It seemed to him ungenerous and ungrateful to use Jocko's serv¬
ices as a means of earning his living and paying the expenses
of his journey, and yet to give the journey such a direction as
to bring the poor monkey to a place where he must inevitably
perish.
He, however, did not see now what he could do but to go on,
and he consoled himself by hoping that there would be some way
found of keeping Jocko warm.
About the middle of the day the train stopped at the station
where the girls said they thought that Carl and Rosa had better
get out. It was at a place where a branch valley came down from
among the mountains to the great central valley through which
they had been traveling.
" There is a fine region of farming-land, and a great many ex¬
cellent farms up this valley," said the girl; " so you had better
go there. They have plenty of help on all the farms here near the
rail-road, but if you go up this valley five or ten miles, or perhaps
twenty, I think you will get a place."
So Carl thanked the two girls for their kindness to him and
Rosa, and then got out of the cars. They stood on the platform
till the train went on. When the train began to move, the girls
bade the children good-by by bowing to them through the win¬
dow of the car.
There was quite a crowd of persons on the platform, and they
all seemed very curious to look at Jocko, but Carl had no heart to
exhibit him and make him dance then.
"Poor fellow!" said he to himself, in a low tone; "to make
144
VERMONT.
Carl and Rosa resting in the school-house yard.
you dance when you are going where you can't live would not "be
fair."
In an hour or two, however, Carl began to recover his spirits,
and, as the day was very warm, his fears in respect to Jocko's
being able to stand the climate were very much abated. So he
began to show Jocko to the people in the villages that he passed
through, and also to such groups that he met by the wayside as
expressed a desire to see him.
One of the exhibitions that Carl made of Jocko was somewhat
curious, as it was connected with the first writing lesson that he
ever took. About three o'clock in the afternoon they came in
sight of a school-house, which stood by the road side in a pleas¬
ant pla$e under some trees.
" Ah!" said Carl, " here is another school-house. I hope there
will be a school-house near the farm where we are going to live,
Rosa, so that you and I can go to school."
" I hope so too," said Rosa.
"This is a very pleasant place for a school-house," contin¬
ued Carl. "Let us sit down here and rest. See! here is a
first-rate seat."
This seat was in the school-house yard, and Carl and Rosa
went and sat down upon it to rest. Every thing was still about
the building, so that the children did not suppose that the schol¬
ars were then in school. But they were, and, before Carl and
Rosa had been seated many minutes, the door opened, and from
twenty to thirty children came running out together for their
recess.
VERMONT.
145
The recess at school. Carl's bargain with one of the scholars.
The foremost of them paused when he saw these strange chil¬
dren in their seat, and then, in a moment afterward, they all gath¬
ered round, and began to utter exclamations of wonder and sur¬
prise at seeing the monkey.
"Will he "bite?" asked one of the girls.
"No," said Carl, "he will not bite."
"What is he?" asked another girl.
"He is a monkey," answered Carl.
" What does he do ?" asked the girl.
" He can dance," said Carl. " He can dance to the music we
make for him on the flageolet and tambourine.
The children had all by this time formed a ring around the seat,
and they looked on with eager curiosity. One of them, however,
ran back into the school-room to tell the teacher that there was a
monkey out at the door, and a boy and girl with a flageolet and
a tambourine to make him dance. So the teacher came out to
see them.
The teacher, who was a very pleasant-looking young woman,
stood behind the rest, and looked over their heads, and thus did
not interrupt the conversation.
"We should like to see him dance," said the girl who had first
spoken, " only I suppose you ask some money for it, and we have
not got any money."
" I'll tell you how you can pay," said Carl. "Do you know
how to write ?"
" Yes," said the girl.
" Then," said Carl, " you shall give me a writing lesson. You
2R K
146
VERMONT.
Jocko in the entry. Carl's first lesson in -writing. The copies.
shall bring me out a pen and ink and a piece of paper, and teach
me a little how to write."
"Well," said the girl, "I will go and ask the teacher if I
may."
Then she turned round to go in and ask the teacher, and be¬
hold, the teacher was there, right before her.
"Yes," said the teacher, "you may; or, rather, I'll give him
a writing lesson. He shall show you the monkey now during the
recess, and then he shall come into the school, and I will let him
sit at a desk and write."
" And shall the monkey come into the school too ?" asked one
of the other scholars.
At this suggestion all the company laughed aloud.
"No," said the teacher, "he must stay in the entry."
" That will be better," said Carl. " I can fasten him in the
entry."
This arrangement was carried fully into effect. Carl exhibit¬
ed the monkey during the recess, and when the bell rang he car¬
ried him to the entry and fastened him there, and then, after lay¬
ing down the flageolet and the tambourine carefully near him, he
and Rosa went with the children into the school.
The teacher gave Carl a desk among the boys, and Rosa one
among the girls, and put before each of them a pen and some
ink, and also a sheet of ruled paper. On the upper line of the
paper was a copy which they were to write. Rosa's copy con¬
sisted of straight marks and round o's. Carl's was his own name,
Carl, written pretty large and plain.
VERMONT.
147
A diligent pupil. Carl learned to write his name at one lesson.
The children remained in the school about an hour. Carl con¬
tinued writing all this time, but Rosa would have got tired before
the hour was out had not her attention been attracted by what
she saw and heard in the school-room. It amused her very much
to observe how the school-room was arranged, and to see the class¬
es called up, and to hear them recite their lessons, standing all in
a row before the teacher.
Carl devoted himself wholly to his writing, and he learned to
write his name quite well. It is very, unusual for a person to
learn to write his name in the first lesson in writing that he
takes, but that is because it is very unusual for a boy to be so
much interested in learning as Carl was, and to take so much
pains.
After the hour was out, the teacher came to look at the work
which Carl and Rosa had done, and she seemed very much pleased
with it. She said she wished that she had them for her scholars
all the time.
Carl and Rosa both wished so too.
After this the children went on slowly for a day or two, with¬
out any particular adventure. They received some money now
and then from some persons who saw the monkey, and they made
inquiries at several farm-houses for a place, but they did not find
any. They only made inquiries at such farm-houses as looked
attractive to them, and seemed to be places where they would like
to live. The persons to whom they applied seemed to take an
interest in them, and they talked with them freely about their
history; but the interview always ended with their saying that
148
VERMONT.
The children traveling on. How they like Vermont.
they did not want either a hoy or girl. They, however, in sev¬
eral instances, directed them to other farm-houses farther on, where
there was a probability that they might find places. This, and
the general kindness with which they were treated, encouraged
Carl to proceed.
" We shall find some place to live in by-and-by, Rosa," said
he.
" Yes," said Rosa, " I think we shall."
" And I am glad we came to Vermont," said Carl, " for I think
it is a very pleasant country."
" So many pretty mountains and valleys," said Rosa.
"Yes, and woods," said Carl.
"Perhaps they will let us walk in these woods sometimes,""
added Rosa.
" Yes," said Carl; "I don't believe they are as particular about
their woods as they are in France and England. If you go the
least step out of your way there into the woods, like as not you
will get caught in a trap, or be taken up by a policeman and sent
off to prison."
the conclusion.
149
The children.meet a black woman. Mutual astonishment.
CHAPTER X.
the conclusion.
One evening, about sunset, as the chil¬
dren were walking along, thinking what
arrangement they should make for the
night, they saw before them, at a short dis¬
tance, a black woman drawing a child in a
little wagon, with another older child walk¬
ing by the side of it.
"Rosa, Rosa," said Carl, "look! look!
there is a black woman."
The children had never before seen a
black woman, and they were therefore
As the black woman and her party approached toward Rosa and
Carl, she was as much surprised to see them as they were to see
her.
"Lucy, child," she exclaimed to the girl who was walking with
her, "look ! look! there comes a monkey."
Of course, when the two parties came together, there was great
mutual astonishment. Carl and Rosa looked intently at the black
woman, while she, and also Lucy and the baby, were equally ab¬
sorbed with the sight of the monkey.
There are very few colored people in Vermont. Carl had not
EVENING.
very much surprised.
150
THE CONCLUSION.
The visitors from the South. An invitation. Mr. Morey s house.
expected to see any there. Indeed, this one did not belong in
Vermont. She belonged to North Carolina. She had come on
with her mistress to spend the summer in Vermont. Her duty was
to take care of the children, especially of Charlie, a boy a little
younger than Lucy, who was in delicate health.
The name of her mistress was Pinckney. Mrs. Pinckney was
spending the summer at a farm-house in Vermont. The wife of
the farmer was a distant relative of hers, and Mrs. Pinckney often
came to spend the summer at her house.
The farm-house where they were staying was at a little distance
from the place where Carl and Rosa met them in the wood. The
black woman, whose name was Phebe, had been out to give the
baby a ride in the wagon, and was now going home.
All this Phebe told to Carl and Rosa in the conversation which
they had there together; for Phebe's attention was so strongly at¬
tracted by the monkey that she stopped to ask Carl where he came
from, and a long conversation followed between the two parties in
consequence.
"I wish you would go up with me to Mr.Morey's," said she,
" and let Charlie see the monkey. Perhaps Mr. Morey would hire
you."
" Well," said Carl, " we will go."
So they turned round and followed Phebe along the road till they
came to a branch road, where they turned off, and ascended a ris¬
ing ground to the place where Mr. Morey lived. They soon came
in sight of the house. It was a small house in height, as it con¬
sisted only of one story, though it was considerably extended over
THE CONCLUSION.
151
The appearance of a prosperous Vermont farm-house.
the ground. But, though the house seemed small, the barns and
sheds about it were of great size and very numerous, so that the
establishment formed quite a little village.
These buildings were very pleasantly situated among the gar¬
dens and orchards, and behind them was a little hill covered with
forest trees. In front was a very extended view over a fertile and
beautiful valley.
" What a pleasant place it is!" said Rosa..
"Yes," said Carl, "it is a very pleasant place indeed; I think
Mr. Morey must have a very nice farm; and I am glad to see so
uiany barns and sheds. I suppose that shows that Mr. Morey
keeps a great many animals."
"He does," said Phebe. " He has horses, and oxen, and sheep,
and cows, and pigs, and chickens, and geese, and turkeys, and
doves, and nobody knows what besides."
"I should like the hens, and chickens, and doves," exclaimed
Rosa..
"And I should like the horses and oxen," said Carl.
When the children came into the yard, they saw a man there,
in a plain farmer's dress, watering a very handsome horse at a
pump.
" Well, Phebe,". said he, " what have you brought us now?"
Phebe explained the case by saying that she had met the chil¬
dren in the road with the monkey, and that she had brought them
up to the house in order to let little Charlie see them, thinking the
sight might amuse him. She added that the monkey's name was
Jocko.
152
THE CONCLUSION.
Mr. Morey does not want any boys. Charlie's pleasure in the exhibition.
"I think it likely it will amuse him," said the man; "any
thing that is an animal, no matter what it is, if it is only alive and
moving, always amuses him."
"And besides," continued Phebe, "the boy wants to get a place,
and I did not know but that you would like a boy."
" No," said Mr. Morey, "not I. I don't want any boys. I have
no faith in boys."
Phebe looked somewhat abashed at this rebuff, though, after all,
it was not really so severe as it might seem, for Mr. Morey said it
in a very good-natured way.
"However," said he, "take them in and give them some sup¬
per, and show the monkeys to Charlie."
" There is only one monkey, please, sir," said Phebe.
"Ah!" said Mr.Morey, "I thought there were two. There's
Jocko for one, and the boy for the other."
Phebe laughed, and led the children into the house.
Mrs. Pinckney was very much pleased that Phebe had brought
them there, on account of the amusement which she knew that
Charlie would take in seeing Jocko. She conducted them all di¬
rectly into Charlie's bed-room.
Charlie was quite an invalid, and he was lying at this time on
a sofa by a window amusing himself with a wind-mill that he was
making. He was, of course, greatly pleased to see the monkey;
and when Carl and Rosa played on the flageolet and tambourine,
and made Jocko dance, he was almost beside himself with delight.
All the grown people in the house sympathized with Charlie's
pleasure, and though perhaps they would have felt above being
THE CONCLUSION.
153
What Mr. Morey said about them. Mrs. Morey's plan for Rosa.
amused at such an exhibition by themselves alone, they took quite
an interest in it oh Charlie's account. Even Mr. Morey came in
to see, and at the close of the performance he talked a little with
Carl about his history. He was so much pleased with Carl's an¬
swers to his questions, and with his general demeanor, that he
said, as he passed through the kitchen in going out, that Jocko
was more of a monkey, and the boy less of one than he supposed.
In the course of the evening Mrs. Morey took a great fancy to
Rosa, and she began to think that she should like to keep her to
help her in her work about the house.
" I have been in want of a little girl," she said, " a long time.
A little girl, if she is bright and willing, is so handy to run of er¬
rands, and do a thousand little things, that take up a great deal of
time if you do them yourself, and don't amount to any thing, after
aH."
" Very likely," said her husband.
"And so, if you are willing," she continued, "I don't know
but that I should like to keep her."
"Oh yes," said Mr. Morey, "just as you please. A woman
must always be in some folly or other, and it does not make much
difference what it is."
Mr. Morey said this at the supper-table, and all the people
laughed to hear it. They knew very well that he said it in joke,
and that really he was glad to have Rosa kept.
" But truly, now, husband," said Mrs. Morey, " don't you think
it would be a good plan V
" I have nothing to say against it," said he.
154
THE CONCLUSION.
Carl in Charlie's room again. The vessel. Charlie's request.
" And are you perfectly willing ?"
" Yes," said he, " I am perfectly willing you should keep the
girl, provided you do not ask me to keep the boy."
It was, however, concluded that, at any rate, both the chil¬
dren and the monkey should stay at the house that night, and
then, if it should be finally determined that Rosa should remain,
Mr. Morey said he would do what he could to put Carl in the way
of finding a place in the neighborhood. In the course of the
evening, Carl went into Charlie's bed-room to show him the mon¬
key again, and afterward Carl entertained him a long time by
telling him stories about the sea.
He also helped him to finish the wind-mill he was making.
While Carl was at work upon the wind-mill^Charlie brought out
from a drawer a small ship which he had begun to make, but he
had not been able to finish the rigging of it. Carl told him that
he thought he could do that for him. He had learned to rig little
vessels at sea.
" If I have time to-morrow," said he, " I will do it for you, and
if I don't have time to finish it, I can show you how to do it your¬
self after I have gone."
But Charlie very much preferred that Carl should finish rig¬
ging the little ship for him, and so he asked his mother to ask
Mrs. Morey to ask her husband to let Carl stay at least through
the next day.
Mrs. Morey consented to this, and so it was arranged that Carl
was to stay.
The next morning after breakfast Charlie wished to have Carl
THE CONCLUSION.
155
Carl in search of work upon the farm. Clearing land.
begin rigging the vessel, but Carl said lie must go out with the
men, to see if he could not find something to do to make himself
useful.
"You see," said he, "that Mr. Morey is very kind to let me
stay here to-day, and I must do as much as I cart in return; but
in the evening I will rig your ship."
" Ah! no," said Charlie, in an imploring voice, " stay in to-day
and play with me."
"I should like to stay and play with you," said Carl, "but it
is better that I should go and work. Besides, if Mr. Morey finds
that I can work well, perhaps he will be willing to let me stay
some days."
" Ah! yes," said Charlie, speaking now in a joyful tone, " per¬
haps he will. So you had better go and work."
So Carl went out with the men to work. The work which
they were doing was the clearing of a piece of land. The trees
had been felled and cut into lengths for firewood, and laid up in
piles all about the field. What remained to be done was to gath¬
er up all the branches, and pile them up too in great heaps, to be
burned.
Besides the branches of the trees, there were a great many old
and decayed logs lying about the field, and these were to be pried
up out of their beds, and drawn by means of oxen to the nearest
heap of bushes, to be burned. While the men were employed in
getting out these logs, and in piling up the larger limbs of the
trees, Carl gathered up the little ones, and thus he assisted a great
deal.
156
THE CONCLUSION.
Carl's services in the work. Mr. Morey concludes to keep him.
He also rendered himself useful in other ways. He watched
the workmen, and, if he saw that a tool, or a chain, or any thing
else were wanted, he ran and got it, and brought it where it was
required. He took care also not to hinder them "by getting in their
way, or officiously undertaking things which he could not do.
Mr. Morey was not with the men in this work, but at night,
when they came home, he asked them what sort of a boy Carl
was.
" He is a real handy little fellow," said one of the men. "We
wish you would keep him a few days longer, till we get this clear¬
ing done."
So Mr. Morey said that Carl might stay a week longer, but not
another day beyond that.
" I shall have nothing for you to do," said he, " after the week
is out; but if you are a good boy, and earn a good character, I'll
see what I can do about getting you a place in the neighbor¬
hood."
But Carl was so good a boy, and made himself so useful, that,
at the end of the week, Mr. Morey concluded to keep him longer.
Carl took good care not to lose the good character he had acquired,
but grew more and more useful as he grew older and stronger, and
the result was that both he and Rosa continued to live with Mr.
and Mrs. Morey for many years. He gave his and Rosa's money
to Mr. Morey to keep for them, and Mrs. Morey put both sums
out at interest.
As for Jocko, he very happily escaped the danger of attempting
to spend, a winter in Vermont, which, considering his tropical con-
THE CONCLUSION.
157
How Jocko escaped a Vermont winter. Mrs. Pinckney's delicate kindness.
stitution, would doubtless have been a hazardous experiment. He
was saved from this risk by Mrs. Pinckney. One day, about a
week before she was to return to the South, she asked Carl what
he expected to do with Jocko in the winter.
" I don't know, indeed, ma'am," said Carl, " and that is what
troubles me. He can not bear the least cold."
" I don't think he will live if he stays here," said Mrs. Pinck¬
ney.
Carl did not answer, but looked very serious and sorrowful.
" I don't think he can possibly live through the winter, if you
attempt to keep him, and so I think you had better sell him to me.
I would give you a good price for him."
Carl did not speak in reply to this proposal, but he began slowly
to turn away, for he felt big tears coming into his eyes. He could
not bear the thought of selling Jocko, or even of parting with him
in any way.
Mrs. Pinckney immediately perceived how the case stood. She
was a lady of noble and generous sentiments, and her heart and
mind were sufficiently enlarged to enable her to understand what
many persons in her station of life seem never able to learn,
namely, that people in the humblest stations may be as noble,
and generous, and as sensitive as they. She instantly understood
Carl's feelings, and respected them.
" On the whole," said she, seeming not to have noticed Carl's
distress, " I don't think I should wish to sell him, if I were you;
but still I think you ought to make some arrangement to have
him pass the winter in a warmer climate. How would you like
158
THE CONCLUSION.
Carl's contract for Jocko's board.
the plan of boarding him with me ? and then I can bring him
back and give him to you again when I come North next sum¬
mer."
" I should like that very well, I think," said Carl. " How
much would it cost for his board ?"
"Not much," said Mrs. Pinckney. "You see Phebe will take
care of him ; she will like to do it. Then he would be of consid¬
erable service in amusing the children, and it would be right to
make a deduction on that account. I think that ten cents a month
would be enough. I will agree to take him, and take good care of
him, for ten cents a month."
" Well," said Carl, "that will do very well indeed; only," he
added, thoughtfully, "I don't know how I could send you the
money."
So saying, he took out a ten cent piece from his pocket, and
looked at it with a view of determining whether or not it was too
heavy to be sent by mail.
"You could send it in postage stamps, in a letter," said Mrs.
Pinckney. " Three three cent stamps and one one cent would
just make it."
" And how can I get the postage stamps ?"
" At the post-office," said Mrs. Pinckney. " You can carry
your ten cents to the post-office, and they will give you the stamps
for them; then you can write me a little letter, and put the stamps
inside.
Carl gladly acceded to this plan, and so it was settled that Jocko
was to go to Carolina to spend the winter.
THE CONCLUSION.
159
Why Mrs. Pinckney proposed that Carl should pay for Jocko's board.
Mrs. Pinckney proposed this payment of ten cents a month in
order to gratify Carl's sense of independence, and enable him to
feel that he was still Jocko's owner and protector, but she had no
idea that the postage stamps would be sent. She thought that
long before the twelve months had expired Carl would have for¬
gotten the arrangement. But Carl did not forget. He sent the
stamps regularly all the winter. In return, he received from
time to time a little note from Mrs. Pinckney, acknowledging the
receipt of the money, and informing him of Jocko's health and
welfare. Toward the 'middle of the winter, she said, in one of
these notes, that she was afraid she had charged too much for
Jocko's board, for he made so little trouble, and was such a great
source of amusement to the children, that, on the whole, she
thought he fully earned his living. She said, however, that she
would not then decide fully, but she would wait until the winter
was more nearly gone, and that, if Jocko continued to behave as
well as he had done, she should feel bound in honor to return the
money which she had received for his board.
Accordingly, in March, Carl received a note from Mrs. Pinck¬
ney, inclosing a gold dollar, wrapped in a small piece of silk pa¬
per. She said that Jocko had more than compensated them for
the expense and trouble of boarding him by the pleasure they
derived from his company, and by his services in amusing the
children, and that she could not conscientiously keep the money
which she had received. Carl paid his dollar to Mr. Morey, in
order to have the amount of it added to his fund.
Carl and Rosa lived long and happily at Mr. Morey's, both of
160
THE CONCLUSION.
The end of the story of Carl and Jocko.
them becoming every year more and more, useful, as they grew
older and stronger. Every spring Jocko came North with Mrs.
Pinckney, and spent the summer in Yermont, and in the fall he
went South again with her, in order to spend the cold season in
Carolina. It was understood that he paid for his board in both
places by his services in amusing children. This continued for
some years, but what ultimately became of him I never knew.
THE END.
CAPSTONE'S HOUSE ATSD GARD2N.
A SERIES OF NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, BIOGRAPHIES, AND TALES,
FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT
OF THE YOUNG.
b y
M©@GB ^[B0B©TT3
(Mftllisljrii xnxtjr
NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-four, by
H'AEPEK & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-seven, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
PREFACE,
The stories themselves which Old Lapstone is represented as
relating to the boys in this volume are imaginary. Lapstone
made them up to amuse the boys, and to reward them for work¬
ing for him in his garden. But all the accounts which they con¬
tain in respect to life at sea, and the usages and practices of sea¬
faring men, and all the descriptions relating to ships, and pilots,
and light-houses, and soundings, and calms, and storms, and other
such topics, are strictly true; and they will convey to the readers
a great amount of useful information, if they read the book atten¬
tively, and with a desire to understand and remember what they
learn by the perusal of it.
CONTENTS,
CHAPTER PAGE
I. WHO LAPSTONE WAS 13
II. THE PILOTS IN A FOG 23
III. THE ESCAPE 37
IV. JIMMINY 54
V. THE STORY OF BENNY 63
VI. ORKNEY 85
VII. THE ORKNEY DOCK 93
VIII. THE ALDEBARAN Ill
IX. EXCURSION ON THE ICE 134
X. WHITEFOOT AND RING 147
ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
lapstone's house and garden Frontispiece.
lapstone viewing his estate 13
the pilot in the fog 23
lapstone's raft 37
jimminy and the wooden leg 54
benny's return 63
the shore-boat 85
the excavation 93
the whale-boat in the ice Ill
the bears 134
choosing the dog 147
L A P S T 0 N E.
CHAPTER I.
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
Lapstone. Who named him so.
TN a small but very pleasant village near the sea-shore, on the
-1- coast of New Jersey, there lived a shoemaker, who was generally
called in the neighborhood by the name of Lapstone. I don't
think that his name was really that, though it may have been some¬
thing like it. At any rate, the boys gave him that name, and, as
he was a very good-natured man, and seemed to like that name as
well as any other, he came to be so called; and at last, when he
14
who lapstone was.
Lapstone's sign. His business. When Lapstone went to sea.
put a sign over his door, he directed the painter to paint on it the
word Lapstone, Shoemakek.
Lapstone was, however, a shoe mender rather than a shoe maker,
for his business consisted much more in repairing old shoes than
in fabricating new ones. I suppose that he could have made good
new shoes, if he had chosen to work in that way; but he did not
wish to do a great deal of work, and so he confined himself to
mending old ones.
The reason why Uncle Lapstone, as the boys called him, adopt¬
ed this plan, will appear from his circumstances and history. He
was an old sailor. He did not, however, begin to go to sea until
he was about nineteen years old. The boys had a rumor among
them that he ran away at that time, and that there was something
rather remarkable in the circumstances of his flight; but, for some
reason or other, they could never get him to tell them the story.
Indeed, he would never actually admit that he did run away at all,
though the boys often questioned him on this subject, but he al¬
ways evaded the answer.
At any rate, he went to sea as a sailor when he was about nine¬
teen or twenty, and continued in that profession for a long period.
At length he got disabled by falling from the mast-head in a storm
on board a whale-ship. He broke his leg in the fall. Of course,
in such a place as the forecastle of a whaling ship, he could not
have proper attention. The broken leg did not get well, and at
last it became necessary to amputate it, that is, to cut it off; and
so, for the rest of his life, he had to go with a wooden leg.
Lapstone made his wooden leg himself on his way home from
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
15
Why Lapstone went to sea no longer. Cooking on board ship.
the whaling voyage. It was not a very handsome limlb, but it was
quite neatly made, and it answered his purpose very well. He
could walk about with it for a little while at a time quite comfort¬
ably, but, of course, his going to sea as a sailor was forever after¬
ward entirely out of the question. What can a man with only one
leg do in running round the capstan, or laying out on the yard-arm
to reef the main-topsail in a gale of wind ?
When the wound made by the amputation finally healed, and
the wooden leg was ready, the captain of the ship sent Lapstone
to the galley for the rest of the voyage, and made him the cook.
The galley is a small house built on the deck of a ship which
serves as a kitchen. It is very small on board a whaling ship,
being not much bigger than a closet. The cooking, done in such
a place is, of course, very simple. It consists in little more than
boiling great pieces of salt beef; so the chief article of cooking ap¬
paratus in a galley is a big boiler.
When Lapstone returned home, he found himself somewhat
alone in the world. He, however, was not without a home. It
so happened that his uncle, who was the only relative he had in
the world, the last time that he went to sea died during the voy¬
age, leaving Lapstone heir to his estate. This estate consisted of
a very small but very pretty house, just at the outskirts of the vil¬
lage in which Lapstone was born, with a garden behind it, and a
little square green field beyond. The field extended down the
slope of a hill, and at the bottom of the descent was a small brook,
flowing, in a meandering way, through a low piece of swampy
land, overgrown with flags and bulrushes.
16
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
Lapstone's estate. The house and the garden.
The garden was a very pretty one, and it was separated from
the street by a fence so high that nobody could look over in walk¬
ing along; so it was very secluded, although quite near the high¬
way. The garden was small, "but it was very prettily laid out.
There was a row of currant-bushes along the fence, and several
apple-trees and pear-trees in the different quarters. There was
also a grape-vine at the back side of the garden, trained over a
seat there. The trellis which sustained this vine was made in a
very plain manner, but the foliage of the vine concealed all the de¬
formities of it, so that the seat, with the trellis over it, formed a
very pretty bower.
Lapstone went to see his estate the very first morning after he
got home. He walked all about it on his wooden leg, examining
it carefully in every part. First he went into the house. There
was a front room, and a back room, and a kitcheii besides. There
was plenty of neat and pretty furniture in every room.
"A very snug berth!" said Lapstone to himself, with a smile
of great satisfaction on his face; "a very snug berth indeed!"
He then went out into the yard, and from the yard he passed
through a small white gate, that opened and shut very easily, into
the garden. He walked along by the row of currant-bushes, and
looked at the full clusters of currants that hung upon them, just
beginning to turn red. Then he looked at the apple-trees and the
pear-trees, and at the beds of vegetables, and at the borders of
flowers. The sun was shining pleasantly that morning, and the
air was calm, and when he compared the aspect which nature pre¬
sented to him then and there with what he had so often encoun-
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
17
What Lapstone thought about his lost leg. The cow's path to the brook.
tered in dark and tempestuous nights off Cape Horn, or in other
stormy regions on the high seas, he felt greatly pleased.
" I'd rather not have a leg to stand on," said he,. " and be here,
than be there again with as many legs as a centipede."
After examining the garden, Lapstone came back into the yard,
and, turning toward the left, he went through another gate which
led to the field. Near one corner of the field was a place where a
ledge cropped out, with trees, chiefly evergreens, growing among
the rocks.
"There's a good foundation for a light-house," said he.
" That is," he added, after a moment's pause, " if there were
any need of a light-house in these parts."
The path through the field led around the foot of this little rocky
knoll, gradually descending all the way until it came to the brook.
The path, indeed, was made by the cow which Lapstone's uncle had
kept, in going down to water. This cow, when she was first turned
into the field, had directed her attention very early to this brook.
" Somewhere or other along that brook," thought she, " will be
the place for me to go to get a drink when I am thirsty."
So she made a careful reconnoissance of the whole course of the
brook, with a view of finding the spot where the soil was least
soft and treacherous, and, after selecting one where the ground, at
the margin of the water, on the bottom, was tolerably hard, she es¬
tablished that as the watering-place. In walking up and down
from the watering-place to the gate which led to the yard, she soon
laid out a path which in time became well trodden, and it was this
path which Lapstone followed in going down to the brook.
29 B
18
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
Lapstone in his front entry reflecting. Calculating resources.
After surveying the brook a few minutes, Lapstone came back
again up the hill and returned to the house.
By this time he was tired of walking and standing, and so he
brought a chair from the front room into the little entry which
communicated with the front door, and, after opening the door so
as to let the sun come in, he sat down in the chair, and began to
consider his situation.
Lapstone was not a man of much education, but he was pos¬
sessed of excellent good sense, and he knew very well that, how¬
ever comfortable things might be about him, a man could not live
in a contented and happy manner without both employment and
company; so he began to consider what he should do to supply
these two indispensable wants.
As to employment, he reflected that it was not necessary for him
to work as a means of gaining a livelihood; for his uncle, besides
this house and land, had left him twenty shares in a bank in New
York, and the dividends on this stock, he had learned, were usu¬
ally about eight per cent., which would make one hundred and
sixty dollars a year.*
" One hundred and sixty dollars a year will make over twelve
* The dividend is the proportion of the profits made by a bank which goes to each
owner of shares. The banks make their profits by lending their money to mer¬
chants, and the merchants pay them interest for it. At the end of the year the in¬
terest is all added together, and divided equally among the owners of shares in the
bank. Of course, the expenses of the bank are first deducted. The shares in a
bank are usually of the value of a hundred dollars. Any boy may own a share in
a bank, and have his dividends from it twice a year, who can lay up money enough
from his earnings or savings of pocket-money to come to one hundred dollars.
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
19
Why Lapstone could not take a wife. Sailors' marriages.
dollars a month," said Lapstone. " That will be about three dol¬
lars a week. With a house to live in, and a garden, and three dol¬
lars a week in money, I can live like an admiral.
" But then," he continued, still musing on his situation and
prospects, " I must have something to do, or else I shall get be¬
calmed."
Lapstone reflected, too, that he must have some company as
well as some employment. The first thought, obviously, would
be for him to take a wife; but there was a very serious difficulty
in the way of his marrying a wife, and that was, he did not know
but that he had a wife already. Sailors marry their wives in al¬
most any port they come to. Of course, they do not know at all
at what port they shall be able to spend most of their time in the
course of their seafaring, and, consequently, they do not know
where it is best, on the whole, to have their wives; so they gen¬
erally have them wherever it happens.
Now it happened to Lapstone to have his wife in the port of
Havre, in France. He married her when he was about thirty
years old. After his marriage, he remained in Havre with her
for several weeks, and then went away on a voyage and was gone
some months. On his return to Havre he found his wife, and he
spent some time with her again. This kind of life continued for
some years, until at last, after having been absent from Havre for
a year or two, he returned there again, but he could not find his
wife, nor could he, after the most diligent inquiry, learn any thing
about her. Whether she was dead, or had moved away, or had
given him up for lost and married some other sailor, and so
20
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
Bigamy. Another reason for not getting married.
changed her name, Lapstone never could learn. And now, al¬
though a great many years had elapsed, and he had no idea of ever
seeing his wife again, still Lapstone did not feel at liberty to mar¬
ry any other woman. His former wife might still Ibe alive; and
for a man to marry any other woman while he has one wife alive
is treated as a great crime by the laws of all civilized communi¬
ties. It is called bigamy. Lapstone resolved that he would not,
even unwittingly, be guilty of the crime of bigamy.
Besides, Lapstone considered himself rather too old to be mar¬
ried. It is true that he was not yet very old in years, but the
toils and exposures that he had endured, and the hard life that he
had led, generally, made him look prematurely old.
"Then, again," said he to himself, in thinking of this subject,
as he sat in his sunny little entry, looking -out upon the garden,
"I should risk my command by getting married, /am captain
of this craft now; but if I get a woman aboard, there's no know¬
ing who would be captain."
So the old sailor concluded to live single. He resolved, also,
that he would live alone, that is, that he would not have any per¬
son in the house to do the work. He was used to cookino* him-
O
self, having had great experience in the ship's galley. He was
used to all sorts of work about the ship, and he thought that the
keeping of a house trig and comfortable would be much the same
thing. He was not far out of the way in this reasoning. He had
once served on board of a revenue cutter, where every thing, from
cutwater to taffrail, was kept as nice and bright as any lady's
parlor.
who lapstone was.
21
Lapstone's resolution. The shop. Working for pleasure.
" I'll tarn my front room into a shop," said Lapstone to him¬
self, " and that will bring me employment and company. My cus¬
tomers will be my company."
There were two windows looking toward the street in Lap-
stone's front room, but there was no door. The house stood end
to the road, and the front door was in the side of it, opposite to
the little gate leading toward the garden. The approach to this
door was by a path along the side of the house, which came from
a gate on the street.
"I'll make my front room a shop," said Lapstone to himself.
"One of the front windows will make a first-rate door."
So he cut down one of the windows, and put over it, for a sign,
Lapstone, Shoemaker. He also bought a bench and the proper
tools, and thus prepared to resume his old occupation.
In a short time he became well settled in the mode of life which
he thus determined to adopt, and he lived so, in peace and pros¬
perity, many years. He worked at his shoe-making and shoe-
mending- when he had nothing else to do, but, whenever there was
any thing more interesting or entertaining either in his house, his
garden, or his field, he would always leave his shop and let the
work go.
The consequence was that he often failed to keep his promises
in regard to the work which he undertook; but then, in such cases,
he always amused his customers so much, when they came for
their shoes, by his queer excuses, and the amusing stories which
he told them, that they went away laughing, and promised to call
again the next day.
22
WHO LAPSTONE WAS.
Lapstone and. the village children.
Indeed, it was one of the great objects tliat Lapstone had in
view in opening his shop to draw the people of the village, and
especially the children, to come often and see him. Lapstone
liked children particularly, and was very fond of talking to them
and telling them stories. He used sometimes to employ the hoys
and girls of the village to work in his garden, and pay them by
telling them stories or helping them rig their boats. One of the
stories which he thus told them is contained in the next chapter.
the pilots in a fog.
23
Lapstone commences a story. Munday and J op.
CHAPTER II.
the pilots in a fog.
" And now, boys," said Lapstone, " what kind of a story do you
want to hear ?"
"A very entertaining story," said Munday.
" A sort of Robinson Crusoe story," said Top.
Lapstone, when he asked this question, was established in his
elbow-chair in the little front entry, and the boys were seated on
the front steps before him. Munday and Top were the names of
two of the boys.
" First," said Lapstone, " I'll move my chair out upon the walk,
so as to be before you, and then you can see me better."
"We will move it out," said the boys.
24
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
The pilot system. Accepting corrections. A shipmaster's duties.
So the boys took the chair, when Lapstone rose from it, and
brought it down the steps. There was a smooth and level place
for it just before the steps. It was in the afternoon of a warm
summer's day, but the place was made shady and cool by a large
apple-tree which stood near, and which shaded it from the rays
of the sun.
The boys had been at work for Lapstone in the garden that aft¬
ernoon, and now he was going to pay them for what they had done
by telling them a story.
" Once upon a time," said Lapstone, "when I was about twen¬
ty-three years old, I served in a pilot-boat off the port of Boston.
Do you understand the pilot system, boys ?"
" No, sir," said Munday. " All I know about it is that a pilot
is a man what steers."
" A man who steers," said Top, speaking in a low tone in Mun-
day's ear.
" A man who steers," repeated Munday, accepting the correc¬
tion.
Some boys refuse to accept the correction when you put them
right in any. thing that they are saying, but adhere to the error,
and perhaps defend it. Munday was not such a boy as these.
"Why, you see," said Lapstone, "that a shipmaster is bound
to know all the great oceans of the world, and to be able to navi¬
gate his ship across any of them. He must know all the winds
and currents, and all the shoals, rocks, and sand-banks laid down
on the charts, but he is not bound to know his way into any
harbor."
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
25
When the sea-captains need pilots. Difficulties of harbors.
"Why can't he sail right in?" asked Munday.
" A man might sail right in, in a small sloop or sail-boat," said
Lapstone; " for, with such a small craft, wherever you see no
breakers, there you can most generally go. But with a large ship
—say a ship of fifteen hundred or two thousand tons—it is a very
different thing. There are only certain narrow and crooked chan¬
nels in most harbors where the water is deep enough for them to
get in. The captain of the ship does not know the way."
" Why does not he learn it, then ?" asked Munday. " I would
if I were a captain."
"Ah! yes," said Lapstone, "we shall have great things done
when the present race of youngsters grow up, no doubt. But, in
the present age of the world, they have a set of pilots in every
port to take the ships in. The pilots board the ships as soon as
they arrive in the offing."
Munday's idea of the possibility of the captain of the ship him¬
self being able to pilot his ship into harbor might, perhaps, be
practicable if there were only two or three harbors which each
captain had to enter; but, in general, large ships employed in com¬
merce go to and fro all over the world, and there are a great many
different ports in all the four quarters of the globe which they are
liable to have to enter, and, of course, they can not make them¬
selves acquainted with all of them. The channels, in the first
place, are often long, winding, and very intricate. They are mark¬
ed out by buoys and light-houses in quite a complicated manner.
They are affected by the rise and fall of the tides, so that in one
state of tide one way would be best, and in another state another.
26
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
Changes in the channels. The system of pilotage.
To become thoroughly acquainted with all these particulars in any
one harbor is a great study. It requires that a man should serve
a long apprenticeship before he can safely undertake, at any time
and in all weathers, to pilot a vessel safely in.
In addition to this, almost all the harbors of the world are con¬
stantly undergoing very slow but very important changes. The
sands shift their places—sometimes from the effect of great floods
of water coming down by the rivers, and sometimes from the ac¬
tion of storms driving them in from the sea; so that, if it were
possible for a shipmaster to make himself completely acquainted
with the condition of all the harbors that he has occasion to fre¬
quent, as they are at any particular period of time, in a very few
years he would be entirely wrong, and in attempting to go into one
of them would run upon a sand-bank, perhaps, in the very place
where formerly he had sailed along safely in a deep channel.
Accordingly, the pilot system is adopted in nearly all the ports
of the civilized world. By this system a set of men called pilots
are provided in each port. Their business is to make themselves
thoroughly acquainted with the port where they belong. They
must know all the channels leading in and out of it, and all the
bars, sand-banks, shoals, and rocks, and also all the buoys, bea¬
cons, light-houses, and signals—every thing, in fact, relating to the
navigation of the harbor; so that they can find their way about it
by night or by day, in fair weather or in stormy, and take the
ships that come in from sea up to their berths without any uncer¬
tainty or danger.
In order to be ready for the ships when they come in, the pilots
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
27
How the pilots cruise off the coast. Signaling. Boarding the ship.
cruise off and on, outside of the harbor, in small vessels called pi¬
lot-boats. These little vessels are very prettily built, and are
made to live in any sea. There are a sufficient number of sailors
on board to man them well, and, besides the sailors, there are sev¬
eral pilots. When these men on board the pilot-boat see a ship
coming in from sea, they make a signal to inquire if she wants a
pilot. The ship answers this sign, Yes or No, by another signal.
If the ship wants a pilot, then the pilot-boat sails down to meet
her. When they get pretty near, the seamen on board the pilot-
boat let down a small boat or skiff; for the pilot-boat itself,
though called a boat, is really quite a vessel, and is much too
large to go up close alongside the ship.
When the skiff is let down, half a dozen oarsmen get into it to
row it to the ship. The pilot gets in too, and then they cast off.
It is quite an exciting spectacle to the passengers on board a pack¬
et or a steamer, that has crossed the ocean, to see, almost as soon
as they get in sight of land, and sometimes long before, the pilot-
boat coming out to meet them, and then to watch the little skiff
as it parts from the pilot-boat, and comes rising and sinking on
the waves toward them. The skiff looks so small, and the oars
seem so frail, and the progress which she makes through the water,
as she rises high on the crests of the billows and sinks low—some¬
times entirely out of sight—in the hollows, appears so slow, that
almost every one trembles for the pilot's safety.
At length, however, when the skiff reaches the ship, the men on
board throw down a rope, and the boatmen, catching it, hold the
little boat still until the pilot has climbed up the ship's side.
28
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
The pilot takes command. Lapstone's story. Eight bells.
Then they cast off, and the skiff returns to the pilot-boat
again.
The pilot now, being on "board the ship, takes the entire com¬
mand of all her motions. The authority of the captain, as far as
the sailing of the ship is concerned, is suspended. The pilot alone
is responsible.
These explanations will help you to understand the story which
Lapstone told the boys; for the events, as he related them, took
place while he was serving on board one of these pilot-boats.
"I was serving on board one of these pilot-boats as a sailor,"
said he. " I was not a pilot, but my business was to navigate the
pilot-boat; and when a ship came in sight, and we were signaled,
and went to put a pilot on board, I often went in the small boat
to row.
"What I am going to tell you about," continued Lapstone,
"happened one morning in the fall of the year, when mists and
fogs are very common on all that coast. We had been out two
days, and one morning, when our watch was turned up at eight
bells, I found it so thick, when I came on deck, that I could not
see the end of the bowsprit."
" What is eight bells ?" said Munday. " Eight o'clock ?"
"Yes, eight o'clock it was," said Lapstone.
"Then why don't you say eight o'clock," said Munday, "and
done with it, and then we could understand you without having to
ask so many questions ?"
" Ah! we don't go by the clock at sea," said Lapstone; " we
go by bells. Two bells go for an hour. We begin at eight o'clock
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
29
How they keep time at sea. The pilot-boat and the ship in the fog.
in the morning, and count up two bells for every hour and one beU
for every half hour till we get to eight bells, which makes it twelve
o'clock."
" But you said that eight bells was eight o'clock," said Top.
"So it is," replied Lapstone. "Eight bells is eight o'clock,
and twelve o'clock, and four o'clock, and then eight o'clock again."
''Never mind about that," said Munday, "but go on with the
story."
"Well, it was a very thick morning," said Lapstone. "The
wind was blowing lightly, and the tide was setting out strong.
By-and-by the fog lifted off to the eastward of us, and we caught
a glimpse of a large ship coming in. She caught sight of us just
as we did of her, and there was just time for her to make a signal
for a pilot, and for us to answer it, when the fog closed over again,
and shut the ship out from our sight."
'■'■Then what did you do ?" asked Top.
" Why, we bore away for the ship," said Lapstone. " She was
about two miles off when we caught sight of her, and we thought
we would run down till we had gone about that distance, and then
lie to again, or move very slowly, till we could get sight of her
once more."
" But, before we had gone a mile, it began to lighten up. We
could see the sun breaking through the clouds, and, in several di¬
rections, we could see for a considerable distance over the water.
The wind went down, and it became almost calm. At length the
look-out man on the bowsprit called out' Sail ahoy 1' and on look¬
ing, we saw our ship about a mile from us, on the starboard beam."
30
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
Meaning of starboard beam. Lapstone and the pilot starting for the 6hip.
" What is the starboard beam?" asked Top.
" Why, any thing that is on the starboard beam," said Lap-
stone, " is off opposite to us on the right. The beams go across
the ship, of course, and if a thing is on the beam, it is off on one
side."
" The way the beams point?" asked Munday, inquiringly.
" Yes," said Lapstone, " that's it; and starboard means right;
so that on the starboard beam is off on one side, to the right."
" Then why don't you say so ?" asked Munday.
"Because," replied Lapstone, "it is a great deal quicker and
easier to say on the starboard beam than to say off on one side to¬
ward the right. Besides, the sailors understand it better.
" The ship was about a mile off," continued Lapstone, resum¬
ing the story, " and we turned toward her at once, but the wind
had now gone down, so that we made very little headway; so we
lowered the skiff in order to row the pilot on board. There was
a man named Barney who was to take command of the boat. I
was to go in the boat too. When the boat was brought up along¬
side, the pilot stood ready on the deck, while the oarsmen who were
to row it went on board. The boat's painter was made fast to a
belaying-pin, and a man named Tom was standing by, ready to
cast off when the command was given. The pilot had his pea-
jacket over liis arm."
" WJiat is a pea-jacket ?" asked Top.
" Oh, it is a sort of shaggy great-coat that the ship's officers
wear when on watch in heavy weather. It was pleasant enough
then; but the pilot was going up to town in the ship, and then
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
31
Barney's preparations for going out in a fog. The compass.
coming down in the next one that was to be piloted out, and there
was no knowing how cold and stormy it might Ibe before he came
back again.
" When the oarsmen were all on board the boat, the pilot climb¬
ed down into her too, and then asked, ' Where's Barney ?'
" ' He's gone below to get his pea-jacket,' said Tom.
" ' What does he want of his pea-jacket such a summer morn¬
ing as this ?' asked the pilot.
" 'Why, he says,' answered Tom, 'that when a boat's crew
goes out in a fog, there's no knowing how long a voyage they may
make before they come back.'
"Just at this moment we saw Barney coming with his pea-
jacket on his arm. The jacket was just such a one as the pilot
had. Besides the jacket, Barney had a bag in one hand and a
boat's compass in the other."
" What is a boat's compass?" asked Top. "Is it a compass
made for a boat ?"
" Yes," said Lapstone, " it is a small compass made to carry in
the hand, so as to take it on board a boat, or to take with you
when you make a tramp in a strange country."
" I should like to see one," said Top.
"I should like to have one," said Munday.
" It would be just the thing for us to take when we go out in
a boat," said Top.
"We always take one when we go out in a boat at sea," re¬
joined Lapstone, " so as to know how to steer, in case, by any
accident, we get separated from the ship."
32
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
The bag of biscuit. How Barney lost the compass.
"And what was in the bag?" asked Top.
"Biscuit," replied Lapstone. "Barney said that he had no
idea of putting to sea, even in a boat, without provisions.
" When Barney got on board, he put his bag of biscuit down
in the bows of the boat, and then walked aft. On his way he put
the compass carefully into the pocket of his pea-jacket, and then
laid the jacket down across one of the thwarts, as the pilot had
done with his. He then turned and called out to Tom to cast off.
So Tom cast off the painter, and the oarsmen began to give way
with their oars, and so we went rapidly toward the ship.
"We soon came alongside, and they threw us a rope. I caught
the rope, and by means of it pulled the boat up close to the ship,
so that the pilot could get up the side. As soon as he got up
into the chains he turned round, and called out to the men in the
boat, ' Throw me up my jacket.'
" So one of the men took up a jacket and threw it up to him;
but, unluckily for us, he took the wrong one."
"The wrong one!" exclaimed Munday.
" Yes," said Lapstone, " he threw up Barney's jacket—the one
that had the compass in it; but nobody observed the rflistake,
and so we bade the pilot good-by and cast off. We rowed round
under the stern of the ship, and then looked out for the pilot-boat,
but we could not see her. The mist had closed over her again,
and she was out of sight."
" And what did you do then ?" asked Munday.
" Why, we knew the direction in which we had come, and so
Barney, putting the head of the boat right, said to the oarsmen,
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
33
Looking for the compass. "Juke." Barney's dismay.
" 'Pull away hearty, boys. It will lighten up again soon, and
show us the pilot-boat close aboard of us.'
" So the men pulled away. In a minute or two Barney called
out to me,
"'Juke,' says he, 'overhaul that pea-jacket and get out the
compass.'"
"Did he call you Juke?" asked Munday.
"Yes," said Lapstone; "they always called me Juke at sea."
" Why did they call you by that name ?" asked Munday.
"I don't know," said Lapstone, "any more than I know why
you call me Lapstone."
" ' Juke,' says he, ' hand me out that compass.'
" So I fumbled in the pockets of the jacket, but I could not find
any compass.
" ' There's none here,' says I.
" ' None there,' says he, 'you lubber! There is one there, for
I put it in myself.'
" So I handed him the pea-jacket, and says I to him,
" ' If you put it in yourself, maybe you'll have the goodness to
take it out yourself.'
" So he took the pea-jacket, and began to fumble in the pockets
of it.
" 'If every man,' says I, 'that can't fish out a boat's compass
in that 'ere pea-jacket is a lubber, you'll find that there is more
than one lubber on board this boat.'
"' Sun, moon, and stars!' said he, starting up suddenly, and
throwing down the pea-jacket into the bottom of the boat. 'My
29 C
34
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
Steering by the wind. Difficulty of keeping a straight course.
pea-jacket has gone on "board the ship, compass and all, and here
we are a dozen leagues from land, and in a fog so thick you can t
see the blades of your oars !' "
"Was it really so thick as that?" said Munday.
" No," replied Lapstone. " It was pretty thick, but it was not
so bad as that quite. At any rate, we could not see either the
ship or the boat; so we had to steer by the wind."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Top.
" Why, we knew that the wind, what little there was, blew from
the southeast, and the pilot-boat lay about to the northeast of us;
so, in order to go in that direction, we had to steer in such a fash¬
ion as to bring the wind on our starboard beam."
" That is, on the right side," said Munday.
"Yes," replied Lapstone, " on the right side. We had to put
the helm so as to bring the wind on our starboard beam, and keep
it there, and then, so long as the wind held steady from that quar¬
ter, so long we knew that we were right."
"That was a curious way to steer," said Munday.
"Yes, but not much to be depended upon," said Lapstone.
"But, Uncle Lapstone," said Munday, "I don't see why you
need have had any difficulty at all. You knew, when you left the
ship, which way the pilot-boat was. Now why could not you take
that course, and just keep straight on, without minding the fog ?"
" Oh, you can't go straight on the sea without something to
steer by," said Lapstone. " You might think you could, but you
can't. Your boat will turn slowly and slowly round one way or
the other, and at last you will find yourself coming back to where
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
35
The boys try to walk blindfolded. Munday's failure.
you begun. Why, a man can't walk in the woods in a straight
line without something to guide him. A boy blindfolded can't
walk straight, or any thing like straight, across a field."
"I believe I could," said Munday.
" Try it," said Lapstone. " Go out into the middle of the road,
and take aim at my front gate. Then shut your eyes, and walk
on and see if you can hit it."
Munday said " Agreed," and the boys all started up immedi¬
ately to witness the experiment. Munday went out into the mid¬
dle of the road. Of the rest, some went with him and some staid
by the gate. Those that went with him said that they could not
trust to his keeping his eyes shut himself; so they put a cap on
his head wrong side before, and brought the back part of it down
over his eyes.
" First let me see the gate," said Munday; and, so saying, he
lifted up the cap to look. He then put the cap down again and
set out. He walked cautiously, with his hands extended before
him, like a person playing blindman's-bufF. Very soon, however,
he began to turn more and more from his course, until at length
his face was so far away from the gate, that Top, who stood near
it, burst into a laugh. Munday then immediately stopped and
lifted up his cap. He seemed greatly astonished to see where he
was.
Some of the boys then wished to try and see what they could
do, and four of them, one after another, made the experiment; but,
though some of them succeeded better than the others, none reach¬
ed the gate.
36
THE PILOTS IN A FOG.
The half hour is out. Lapstone s bargain.
"And now, boys," said Lapstone, when they came back into
the yard again, " my half hour is out."
The agreement which Lapstone made with the boys was that
for every hour that they worked in his garden he would talk with
them and tell them stories for half an hour. Thus, as they under¬
stood it, they gave twice as much of their time as Lapstone did of
his. The advantage, however, was much greater than this on Lap-
stone's part; for, as there were several boys usually who worked
together, the availability, so to speak, of Lapstone's half hour, in
paying for work, was multiplied, since the same half hour of story¬
telling answered for all. Thus, in this case, there were five boys
who had worked for him, and so, with only half an hour of his own
time, he paid for five hours of boys' labor.
the escape.
37
Lapstone resumes the story of the pilots at sea in the fog.
CHAPTER III.
the escape.
The boys came the very first afternoon when there was no
school to work an hour in Lapstone's garden, in order to hear the
remainder of the story.
"Let me see," said Lapstone, when he was ready to resume his
narration, " where did I leave off?"
"You left off," said Munday, " where you were all in the "boat,
steering by the wind."
"Ah! yes," said Lapstone. "Well, we could not steer by the
wind long, for the wind went down. In ten minutes from the time
that we left the ship it fell calm. Pretty soon it breezed up
again a little, but we did not know whether it was from the same
38
THE ESCAPE.
When you do not know what to do, do nothing.
quarter or another. Most likely, we thought, from another. So
we did not know what to do.
"' It is of no use to row,' says Barney; ' you don't know at all
where you are rowing to.'
" So the men stopped rowing, and the boat lay on the water
calm and still.
" ' We've nothing to do,' says Barney, ' "but to wait till the fog
lifts, so that we can see where we are.'
" ' Why, we ought to do something,' says one of the men.
" 'No,' says Barney; 'when you do not know what to do, do
nothing.'
" ' I don't believe in that,' says I. ' When you don't know cer¬
tainly what to do, do the best you can. That's my rule.'
"'No,' says Barney, 'for there are always nine wrong things
to do for one right one. It follows from that, that when a man
acts at random, there are nine chances out of ten that he will act
wrong.'
"So we lay still in the boat for abgut half an hour. At the
end of that time it began to lighten up a little.
" As fast as the clouds lifted," continued Lapstone, " we looked
about in all directions for the pilot-boat, but we could see nothing
of her. In some directions we could see two or three miles, but
there was nothing in sight but the open sea.
" At last one of the men at the bow started us all up suddenly
by calling out, in a loud voice, as if he had been at the mast-head,
"' Land!'
" At the same instant he pointed off on the larboard bow. There
THE ESCAPE.
39
The shore in view. The breakers. Fog again. Hark!
we saw, about two miles away, a range of rocks that looked like a
shore. We could see some bushes or trees near one end of them,
and the sea was breaking all along the line."
" I thought you said the water was calm and still," said Mun-
day.
" So it was," replied Lapstone; "but then there is always a
swell at sea that makes a surf on a rocky shore—that is, provided
you are on the windward side of it. On the lee side sometimes
it is smooth.
"We immediately headed the skiff toward the land, and pulled
away; but, before long, the mist and fog closed over the place
again, and hid the land from view. We kept on, however, hoping
to hit it. We rowed more than an hour, but we did not reach the
shore that we had seen, nor could we see any signs of it. So
Barney gave up in despair, and told the men that they might as
well take in their oars, for all their toil was to no purpose.
" So the men took in their oars and let the boat drift where she
would.
" I had not been rowing for some time, but had been standing
in the bows of the boat looking out. I had a boat-hook in, my
hand, ready to fend off if we had come suddenly upon any rocks.
For about five minutes after the men stopped rowing they remain¬
ed quiet in the boat without speaking a word. Presently they be¬
gan talking to each other as they sat on the thwarts, or lay in the
bottom of the boat. All at once one of the men called out,
'"Hark!"
"We all listened. We could hear a bird singing.. And I tell
40
THE ESCAPE.
Steering by the song of a bird. The lee shore.
you what, it was the sweetest music to my ears that I ever
heard.
" ' Here it is,' says I, 'right ahead. There's land close upon
us here, right ahead.'
" ' Pull away, my lads,' says Barney. ' Pull gently, and stand
by, Juke, to fend off.'
" So I put my boat-hook out over the bowa, and made ready
to fend off the moment that we should come in sight of rocks or
a shore.
" As the boat advanced, I could hear the singing of the bird
more and more distinctly.
" ' What's the reason we don't hear the breakers,' says Barney,
' if there is land there ?'
" 4 We must be coming up on the lee side of it,' says I."
" What did you mean by that?" asked Munday.
" Why, when we come to an island, on the windward side of
it," replied Lapstone, " that is, the side that is toward the wind,
of course we can hear the breakers dashing against the rocks, or
rolling up on the sand; but when we come upon the lee side of
it, which is the sheltered side, then there are no breakers, and of
course we do not hear any sound."
" Then the lee side is the safest side," said Munday.
"Yes," replied Lapstone, "the lee side and the sheltered side
is the safest side. When a boat goes out to board a ship in the
open sea, she always goes up to her on the lee side."
" But I've read about ships being cast away on a lee shore,"
said Top, " as if the lee shore was the most dangerous one."
THE ESCAPE.
41
Difference between being on a lee shore and under the lee of the shore.
"Ah! yes," replied Lapstone, "but that means the ship's lee,
and not the shore's lee. If a shore is to the leeward of a ship,
the ship is of course to the windward of the land. When a ship
has land on the side that the wind blows to, then we say that she
is on a lee shore—we mean a shore under the lee of the ship ; but
when the ship has land on the side that the wind blows from,
then she is under the shelter of the land, and then we say that
she is under the lee of the land. It makes a great difference -
whether you have the land under the lee of the ship or the ship
under the lee of the land."
" Never mind at all about that, Uncle Lapstone," said Munday,
" but go on with the story."
" Well, we went on very slowly and carefully.
" 'Slowly!' says Barney. 'Pull easy, for the tide is running
out, and if you get her set on the sand we shall be beached for ten
or twelve hours.'
" The moment that Barney said this, I saw bottom.
" ' Here's bottom !' says I; ' smooth sand.'
" So Barney called out to the men to hold on, and they all
stopped rowing. But the boat went on slowly, and pretty soon I
could begin to discern the land. There was a smooth sandy
beach, and beyond it a green fringe of trees and bushes.
" 'We'll go on as far as we can,' says Barney, 'and then you
may go ashore, Juke, and see if you can make out where we are.
If you find any high land, go up and make an observation.' "
"You would not have seen any thing," said Munday, " if you
were to get up ever so high, because it was so foggy."
42
THE ESCAPE.
Fogs often lie low upon the water. Anchoring the boat.
"Yes; but such a fog as this," said Lapstone, "sometimes
lies very low on the water, so that, if you can get up a hundred
feet or more, you are out above it, in bright sunshine. I've been
on board a whaling ship before now, when you could not see the
end of your own marlingspike on the deck, while at the mast¬
head it was as clear as a bell, not a cloud to be seen in the whole
sky."
" Well, go on," said Munday.
" 'I've no objection to go ashore,' says I, 'provided you don't
go off and leave me.'
" ' Oh, you may anchor us,' says Barney. ' Take a grapnel
ashore with you, and make it fast in the sand. Then we can
back off a little, and so not be in danger of grounding.'
" By this time the boat had come pretty near the shore, so that
I could leap out to the sand. When I was out, one of the men
threw out the grapnel."
" What is that ?" asked Munday.
" Why, a sort of small anchor, made to hold a boat," replied
Lapstone.
" ' There,' says Barney, 'set the grapnel in the sand, and then
you'll be sure of us.
" ' Besides,' says he, ' if you think you are going to be left, take
the provisions.'
" As he said this, he took up the bag of provisions which lay in
the bows of the boat, and threw them as far as he could up on the
sand.
" He pretended to do this in a joke, but the fact was, he ex-
THE ESCAPE.
43
Lapstone exploring the shore. What he found there.
pected that he himself and the whole boat's crew were to go on
shore, and wait there until the weather cleared up, and that while
they were there they would eat the biscuit. But he thought that
he would first let me go and make an observation, as he said,
thinking that perhaps I might find out what land it was.
" So I set the grapnel in the sand just above the line of the
water, and then the crew backed off the boat to where the water
was deep, for the rope which was fastened to the anchor was quite
long. I took up the bag of biscuit and placed it on a flat stone,
where it was high and dry, and went up through the bushes to
the land."
"Well, and what did you see there?" asked Munday.
" Nothing that I knew," replied Lapstone. " There were some
rocks, and some green grass, and some trees'and bushes, but I did
not find any roads, or fences, or any other signs of inhabitants. It
was so foggy that I could not see very far; but, at a little distance
before me, I perceived that there was a hill. So I went to it. I
was in hopes that the top of it was high enough to be above the
fog-"
" And was it ?" asked Munday.
"No," said Lapstone, " it was only a gentle swell of land, with
a ledge of rocks forming the top of it. In the cavities of the rocks,
round on the shady side of them, were some pools of water that
looked very clear and cool.
"' What a pity it is that I am not thirsty,' says I to myself,
' for then I might have a good drink.'
" I saw something dark a little beyond where I was, that looked
44
THE ESCAPE.
Lapstone finds he is on an island. His plan for reaching the shore. The boat is gone.
as if it might be a hill, and so I went on to see. It proved, how¬
ever, to be only a line of bushes, and, when I reached the bushes, I
found that I came to the sea again just beyond them. In fact, I
heard the ripple of the waves on the shore just before I reached the
bushes; so that it was an island that I was on, but there was
nothing very marked upon it by which I knew it. All I knew
was that it could not be far from the land."
" How did you know that ?" asked Munday.
"By the rippling on the sand on the windward side," replied
Lapstone. "You see, the beach where I left the boat was on the
leeward side of the island, and, of course, the other side would be
the windward side, and if there had been any great breadth of
water in that direction, there would have been a heavy swell roll¬
ing in from it upon the low rocks that formed the shore there. I
knew what the wind and weather had been, and what the state of
the sea was, and from that, and from what I saw of the rippling, I
judged that there must be land or some shelter within a mile or
two of the low rocks. So I went back to where I had left the boat
to tell them what to do."
" And what were you going to tell them to do ?" asked Top.
"Why, to coast round the island," said Lapstone,till they
got to the other side of it, and then to take a fresh departure from
the low rocks, and so strike across for the land, as Columbus did
across the Atlantic for America."
" Well," said Munday, " go on."
" Well," repeated Lapstone, " when I got to the place where I
had left the boat, I found that she had gone."
THE ESCAPE.
45
Nothing but the grapnel left. Why Barney had left the island.
"Gone!" exclaimed Munday, in astonishment.
" Gone," repeated Lapstone. " Not a sign of her to be seen.
"Yes, there was a sign of her to "be seen," he added; " for the
grapnel was there holding on to the sand, just where I had put it,
with the rope that was fastened to it running down the beach and
out under the water, but no boat."
"The boat must have sunk," said Munday.
"Not she," said Lapstone. " I found out afterward what be¬
came of her. You see that, while I was gone, the fog lighted up
a little, and a ship hove in sight, and so Barney resolved to let go
the shore and run out to her.
"'We'll run out there,' says he, 'and be back again.before
Juke comes down from the land. From the ship we can find
oat where we are, and what land this is, and then shall be all
right.'
" So they slipped the cable, and were off, and when I came
down the coast was clear.
"But they came back again pretty soon," said Munday.
"No," replied Lapstone. " I sat down under the bushes, and
waited an hour, but they did not come. In fact, .the fog closed
over the sea again before they had gone a cable's length from the
shore, and they could not find the ship. Then, when they gave
up the ship, they turned round and tried to get back, but now
they could not find the land. So they were worse off than I was,
and if I had known it I should have been glad of it."
"Oh, Uncle Lapstone!" said Munday, "you are too revenge¬
ful."
46
THE ESCAPE.
What Lapstone thought and did when left alone on the island.
"They liad no business to go off and leave me," said Lap-
stone.
" Well, never mind," said Top; " go on with the story."
" When I found that the boat was gone," said Lapstone, con¬
tinuing his story, " I felt as if I was brought up all standing.
There I was alone, and without any boat, upon a small, uninhab¬
ited island, and what I was to do I could not imagine. The first
thought was that I had nothing to do but sit down upon a rock,
if I could find one, and wait until the boat came back."
" And suppose the boat were not to come back at all," sug¬
gested Munday.
/'In that case," replied Lapstone, "I thought that I must wait
until it cleared up, and then I supposed that I could see where I
was. So I waited for more than an hour, but the boat did not
come."
" What did you do while you were waiting ?" asked Top.
" Part of the time I sat down on a rock near the shore," re¬
plied Lapstone, " and listened, in hopes that I could hear the
sound of oars. When I got tired of that, I rambled about the
island, taking care not to go far out of sight of the place where I
had left the boat. I took the grapnel up out of the sand, and
drew in the rope that it had been fastened to the boat with."
" What did you-do that for ?" asked Munday.
" I hardly know what I did it for," replied Lapstone. " It was
the only thing that was there that seemed to have any thing to do
with living men, and I took a kind of satisfaction in having it."
" It could not do you any good," said Munday.
THE ESCAPE.
47
How Lapstone constructed a raft to leave the island on.
" One would think so," replied Lapstone. "Any sort of anchor
is just the worst thing a man could have to help him in such a
case. An anchor is made to hold on with, whereas what I wanted
was to get away. However, I took the grapnel up out of the sand,
and laid it on the grass where it was high and dry, and coiled the
rope up neatly by the side of it; and I found, in the end, that the
rope was of great service."
" How so ?" asked Top.
" Why, I conceived the idea of making a raft out of the stems
of the bushes which grew on the island," replied Lapstone, " and
I used the rope for lashings to lash the parts together with."
" Oh, Uncle Lapstone," said Top, " a rope would be too clum¬
sy for that."
"AhI but I pulled it apart and took the strands," said Lap¬
stone. " I unlaid about ten feet of it, and separated the strands ;
so I got a great quantity of spun-yarn. Then I went to work
with my knife and cut down a great number of bushes, choosing
those that had the tallest and straightest stems. With these I
made a raft. I first selected four of the largest and best that I
could find, and lashed them together for a frame. Then I laid on
a great many others, lengthwise and crosswise, and lashed them
all down securely with pieces of my spun-yarn. If I had not had
the spun-yarn I could not have made the raft at all, that is, I
could not have made one that would have stood the voyage. A
raft made of small pieces of wood without any lashings would have
got knocked to pieces before going a cable's length by the motion
of even the smoothest sea."
48
THE ESCAPE.
The mast and sails. The braces. Lapstone's harbor.
" Then it was very lucky for you that you had the rope," said
Munday.
" It was indeed," said Lapstone. " Then, besides, I needed the
spun-yarn for rigging. You see I had no oars, and so I had to de¬
pend for navigating my raft on such a sail as I could make of
bushes. I chose out four or five bushes which had the thickest
tops, and lashed the stems together. The tops, of course, came
together too, and made a good thick head to catch the wind.
Thus I had a mast and sail all in one. This I set up on my
raft, about where a foremast would come. I left one of the stems
of these bushes longer below than the others, and pushed it down
through a crevice among the poles that formed the raft. The
stems of the other bushes, which were a little shorter, kept it from
going down too far.
" Then, to keep my mast and sail from falling over to one side
or the other," continued Lapstone, "I braced it on every side by
lines of spun-yarn going down from the centre of the head of the
bushes to the edges of the raft all around. These lines, like the
shrouds and braces of a mast, kept all steady."
" That was an excellent plan," said Munday.
" I made my raft," continued Lapstone, " near a little cove on
that side of the island that I supposed was toward the land, at a
place where the water was deep and yet pretty still, near the shore.
I spent nearly all day in making it. You see it took a great
many of such small poles to make a raft big enough to bear a
man.
" I got it finished about four o'clock in the afternoon. I worked
THE ESCAPE.
49
Lapstone's dinner upon bread and water. Sailing in the fog again.
very hard the last part of the time, for I was very anxious to get
away that night.
" By the time I had got the raft finished I began to be pretty
hungry, and then I was very glad that I had my bag of biscuit.
So I took the biscuit, and went to the place on the rocks where I
had seen the fresh water, and there I ate the biscuit and drank the
water, and a right excellent dinner I had.
" Then I concluded to go aboard my raft. There was a nice
little breeze springing up, which blew in what I supposed was the
right direction to go. toward the land. I put the bag, with the
rest of the biscuit in it, on the raft, and then I got on it myself,
and pushed off from the shore."
"Did it bear you well?" asked Munday.
" Yes," said Lapstone, " very well indeed. And it felt very
strong under me, though it was made pretty much altogether of
small poles. But I lashed the poles together so well at the cor¬
ners that the raft was very strong.
" I pushed off from the land a little way, and, as soon as I be¬
gan to get into deep water, the breeze took my sail, and I began to
go ahead. Of course I went pretty slowly, but it was a great sat¬
isfaction to go at all. After about ten minutes the little island
that I had left began to be lost in the fog, and there I was, out of
sight of land, with a pretty leaky ship, no crew, and provision for
less than six hours."
" And what did you <1° ?" asked Munday.
" Oh, I sat still and sailed on," replied Lapstone. " The wind
freshened up, and my craft made considerable headway. For a
29 r>
50
THE ESCAPE.
The sunlight in the fog above. Lapstone sees a spook. The mystery is explained.
time it was pretty clear just about me, but there was a fog-bank t
ahead. This fog-bank I soon got into, and then it became so thick
that I could not see a cable's length in any direction. But there
was a pretty good breeze, and so I went on all the time, and I
was continually in hopes of coming upon the land.
"Besides that," continued Lapstone, "I hoped every minute
that it would clear up. You see the fog lay very low on the wa¬
ter. It was not fifty feet thick. If I had been aboard of a whaler,
I could have gone to the mast-he2fd, and been entirely out of it,
bright and clear."
" How did you know that ?" asked Munday.
" Oh, I could see a gleam of sunlight through it," replied Lap¬
stone. " Sometimes I could almost see the blue sky. But I did
not look about much, nor upward. I looked forward. I strained
my eyes in that direction all the time, so as to catch the first
glimpse of land, in case any land should appear.
" Finally I thought I saw something dark before me. At first
it had no form, but pretty soon it seemed to be a figure of a wom¬
an—a monstrous tall woman. She was standing motionless on
the water right before me. She had her bonnet in her hand.
She was holding it by the strings. I was dreadfully afraid."
" What were you afraid of?" asked Top.
"Why, I thought it was a spook," said Lapstone, "or some¬
thing of that sort. However, I could not stop my raft, for the
wind was carrying it slowly onward. As it went on I could see
the figure more and more distinctly. It grew smaller and small¬
er as I got near, and at last I saw that it wag a little girl stand-
THE ESCAPE.
51
Lapstone reaches the main land. Abandoning the raft.
ing on a rock close to the margin of the water. In fact, I had got
to the land."
" My!" exclaimed Top ; " and that girl was' on it ?"
"Yes," said Lapstone; "and as soon as I had come near
enough for her to see that it was a raft that was coming, with a
man on it, she turned round toward the land, and called out,
"Johnny! Johnny! come here! quick!"
In a moment a boy, not much bigger than the girl, came run¬
ning along the rocks out of the fog, to see what was the matter.
He had a fishing-pole in his hands. He had been a fishing on
the rocks, and his sister had come down with him to play about
on the shore in the mean while."
"Where did they live?" asked Munday.
"Oh, they lived in a small house a little way up there.on the
land," said Lapstone. " As soon as the boy came to the place,
I called to him to reach out the end of his fishing-pole to me, and
he did. When I got hold of it I told the children to pull, and as
soon as my raft touched I jumped off to the land."
" It was a very lucky escape," said Munday, drawing a long
breath.
"Yes, it was, indeed," said Lapstone.
"And what did you do with your raft?" asked Top.
" Oh, I left it to go to pieces on the rocks," said Lapstone.
" You did not leave the bag of biscuit?" said Top.
"No," replied Lapstone; "I threw the bag ashore before I
landed myself. I gave the biscuit that were left in it t.o the chil¬
dren that had helped me to land, and then put the bag over my
52
THE ESCAPE.
What had become of Lapstone's companions in the boat. End of the story.
shoulder, and walked up a path which led up the rocks. In
three minutes I was out in clear sunshine. I could look over
the sea very far. ' There was a low fog lying on the water, "but
above all was bright and clear. I saw at once where I was. I
was about five miles from town."
"And did you walk home?" asked Munday.
"No," said Lapstone, "I went along the shore a little way,
and there I found a fishing-boat going up to town, and I made
them take me on board."
"And what became of the skiff?" asked Munday.
" Oh, the men in the skiff," said Lapstone, " spent the whole
of the day and all the night in beating about the harbor, not
knowing where they were. But the next morning after that it
cleared up, and then they got home. When they saw me they
were astonished, and they asked me how I got off the island.
When I told them the story, they did nothing but laugh. They
supposed I was quizzing them, and did not believe one word of
my story from beginning to end.
"But they believed it at last," added Lapstone; "for the next
time we went that way in our pilot-boat, we landed on the island
to get the grapnel which we had left there, and then I showed
them the stumps of the bushes which I had cut down to get poles
for my raft, and the branches that I had trimmed off, which were
lying about all over the ground."
" What did they say then?" asked Munday.
" Why, then they were convinced that what I had told them
was true," said Lapstone, "and that is the end of the story."
THE ESCAPE.
53
Lapstone explains to the boys the difficulty of making the raft.
The boys were very much pleased with this story, and one of
them said that he believed that that would be an excellent way
for them to make a raft.
"You see," said he, "when we want to make a raft, the trouble
always is to get boards enough. I never thought of taking stems
of bushes."
"No," said Lapstone, "I would not advise you to attempt to
make a raft in that way. It takes a great many such poles to
make floatage enough to buoy up a man. The reason why it
takes so many is, in the first place, because they are small, and,
in the second place, because, being green, they are heavy. There
is more buoyancy in one good-sized dry board than in forty of
them. Then, besides, it takes a great deal of time and patience,
and some knowledge of rigging, to lash them securely together."
54
jimminy.
CHAPTER IV.
jimmint.
One summer afternoon, late in July, Lapstone was sitting in
his shop asleep. He was not upon his bench, but in a comfort¬
able arm-chair, which he always kept at a certain window of
his that looked off upon the garden. He was awaked from his
nap by hearing a noise as of some one trying to open the shop
door.
The shop door fronted on the street.
Lapstone opened his eyes and listened.
Presently he heard a gentle voice, as of a young child, calling
out,
" Uncle Lapstone!"
JIMMINY.
55
Lapstone opens the door for Jimminy. The shoe. The broken promise.
" Yery well," said Lapstone ; " speak—I hear."
" I can't open the door," rejoined the voice.
" Who is it?" asked Lapstone.
"I," answered the voice.
" And who is I?" asked Lapstone.
"Jimminy," answered the voice ; "I want my shoe."
So Lapstone rose from the seat and opened the door. A very
pretty little girl, with a well-worn straw bonnet on her head, stood
there, holding Iby the hand another child younger than herself.
The younger child was only about four or five years old, and Jim¬
miny herself was only six or seven.
" I want my shoe," said Jimminy, as she followed Lapstone
into the shop: "is it done?"
" Why no, Jimminy," replied Lapstone, " it is not done yet;
you see, I've "been driven lately so much."
"Now, Uncle Lapstone!" exclaimed Jimminy, in a very mourn¬
ful tone, "you don't know how sorry I am ; you promised me my
shoe the day before Wednesday, and now it is not done yet, and
me going with only one shoe all the time."
So saying, Jimminy pushed back the margin of her frock, and
showed her two feet, one shod, the other bare.
"Is that the way you have to go?" asked Lapstone.
" Yes," said Jimminy, "I have to go so all the time, only when
I take off my other shoe, so as to have both my feet feel alike."
"It is too bad, Jimminy," said Lapstone; "it is outrageous ;
if it was any body else that had served you so besides myself, I
would give him a scolding that it would do you good to hear."
56
JIMMINY.
Jimminy and Katy wait for the shoe to be mended. The wooden leg.
" I think you ought to "be scolded yourself," said Jimminy.
"So do I," replied Lapstone; "I truly do, and I wish there
was somebody here to scold me. I can't scold myself very well,
you know, and you can't scold very well, I suppose ; ladies never
can; so I don't know what we can do.
" Only this I can do," continued Lapstone; "if you will come
in and wait, I'll mend your shoe now, the first thing I do, and then
you will not have to go half barefoot any more."
" Well, I will wait," said Jimminy. " Come in, Katy."
This last call was addressed to the little child who had come
with Jimminy, and who had thus far remained at the door.
Lapstone took his seat on his shoemaker's bench, and then, after
selecting Jimminy's shoe from among those which had been left
to be mended, he drew out his thread and prepared to go to work.
Jimminy sat down on a little footstool which was on the floor by
the side of Lapstone's bench. While sitting there, her attention
was soon attracted to Lapstone's wooden leg, which was extended
in full view before her. There was an iron ring, forming a sort
of knob, on the end of it.
"Uncle Lapstone," said Jimminy, after musing for a time,
" how came you to have such a funny leg? Did it grow so ?"
"Oh no," said Lapstone, "I made it."
"Oh, Uncle Lapstone!" exclaimed Jimminy.
" Yes," said he, "I made it. My real leg got broken, and it
had to be cut off, and so I made this wooden one, and fastened it
on instead."
Here followed quite a long pause, during which both Jimminy
JIMMINY.
57
Jimminy searches for an awl to try Lapstone's leg with.
and Katy looked at the wooden leg, with a very serious expression
on their countenances.
At length Jimminy looked up into Lapstone's face again, and
said,
" Uncle Lapstone, if any body were to prick your wooden leg,
would it hurt you ?"
" No," said Lapstone, " not a bit."
" I mean to try," said Jimminy—" or I would, if I only had a
pin."
" Look about among my tools on the bench," said Lapstone,
" and you will find an awl; you can try it with that."
Jimminy took a survey of the tools on the bench, but there were
several knives among them, which looked quite sharp and glitter¬
ing, and she was afraid to put her fingers among them to take the
awl. At length, however, she found a pin somewhere about her
dress: with this she began to prick the wooden leg, looking up
into Lapstone's face all the time to see if he appeared to feel it.
" No, Katy," said Jimminy, " he does not feel it a bit."
Katy looked amazed, but did not answer.
Here Jimminy began to look intently at the end of the wooden
leg, and at the iron ring which encircled it.
"Uncle Lapstone," said she, "why did not you make yourself
a better foot? you might have made some toes."
"Oh no#, child," replied Lapstone, "it would not have done any
good to make toes; I could not have moved them if I had made
them."
" Why not ?" asked Jimminy".
58
JIMMINY.
Why Lapstone made no toes to his wooden leg. A bargain for a story.
" Because they would have'been made of wood. A thing must
be made of flesh and blood in order that we can move it."
" But, Uncle Lapstone," said Jimminy, " you can move your
leg, and yet it is made of wood; so I don't see why you could
not hare moved your toes."
" Oh no!" said Lapstfjne, "oh no!"
" Did you ever try to make a foot and toes, Uncle Lapstone,"
said Jimminy.
" No," said Lapstone ; "it would not be any use to try."
After this Jimminy sat some time without speaking. She was
lost in thought, contemplating the various mysteries connected
with the wooden leg.- At length she seemed to arouse, herself
from her reverie, and asked Lapstone to tell her a story.
"You might tell us a story as well as not," said Jimminy,
" while you are mending my shoe."
" Oh no," said Lapstone, " I can't tell stories very well while
I am at work; besides, I don't tell stories to any children unless
they first do some work for me in my garden."
"But Katy and I are not big enough to work in the garden,"
said Jimminy.
"You are not big enough to do all kinds of work, but you
might do some kinds," said Lapstone. "Perhaps you are big
enough to pick currants: I have got a great many currants to be
picked."
"Zam big enough to pick currants," said Jimminy, " but Katy
is not. Katy is a little girl."
"You may go out into the garden and try," said Lapstone.
JIMMINY.
59
The girls pick some currants. Why Lapstone wished to employ girls rather than boys.
."You'll have time while I am finishing the shoe. You cart show
Katy the way. You go out through the front door of the house,
and then go straight across the yard to the garden gate. You go
through the gate, and then look all about till you find the currant-
bushes. Then you pick off some of the bunches of the currants.
You must not take hold of the currants themselves, but of the
stems. You take hold of the stem close to where it grows out
from the branch. If you break off the stem of the bunch of cur¬
rants, all the currants come off with it. You may get three or
four bunches, and bring them to me in your hand. Katy may try
too. You may show her how."
Jimminy was much pleased with this commission, and so, tak¬
ing Katy by the hand, she led her out into the garden. In a few
minutes they came back, each of them bringing some bunches of
currants in their hands.
"Ah!" said Lapstone, speaking in a tone of great satisfaction
as soon as he saw them, " you can do it very well. Now sit down
and eat the currants, and tell me whether you think they are ripe."
The children sat down- and ate their currants, and seemed to
like them very much.
" Now," said Lapstone, " I want all my currants gathered, and
I'd rather have girls to gather them than boys. The reason why
is, that I should make a law that you must not eat any while you
were gathering them, and girls would obey the law, but boys would
not. Girls are more honest than boys. Boys would perhaps eat
more themselves than they would put into the basket for me, but
good girls would not eat any."
60
JIMMINY.
Lapstone's proposal. A story promised. The five girls picking currants.
" But, Uncle Lapstone," said Jimminy, "1 think you ought to
give us a few to pay us."
"Ah! yes," said Lapstone, "I should. After you had done
picking them I should give all a good saucerful of them, with sug¬
ar on them. They would taste a great deal sweeter and better
in a saucer, with the sugar on them, than they would to he eaten
off the bushes. Then, while you were eating your currants from
the saucers, I would tell you a story."
"Well, Uncle Lapstone," said Jimminy, "we will do it."
"You must find four other girls to come with you," said Lap¬
stone. "I can't tell a story to less than five. If you will find
four other girls to come with you—all good girls—and if you will
work well gathering my currants for an hour, then I'll give you
each a good saucer of currants and sugar to eat, and besides that,
I'll tell you a story half an hour long."
This plan was .fully agreed to, and, as soon as the shoe was
done, Jimminy went away with Katy to find the other girls. She
soon made up the number, and that afternoon they came, all five
of them, and called upon Lapstone to give them baskets or dip¬
pers, and set them to work.
They worked very well, and in the course of the hour they gath¬
ered all the currants that grew on quite a long row of bushes.
They each had a little mug or basket, and as fast as they filled
these vessels they emptied them into a great basket, which was
placed for the purpose on the seat in the corner of the garden. In
the course of the hour the great basket got heaping full.
After the work was done, Lapstone assembled the children on
Lapstone begins his story.
JIMMINY.
A ballad.
61
9
The first verse.
the steps of the front door, where it was cool and shady, and there
they ate the currants and sugar which he promised to give them.
Each girl had a saucerful of currants and a spoon. The sugar-
bowl stood on the steps in the middle of the group, and each girl
took as much of it as she wished.
While they were sitting here eating their currants, Lapstone
told them tha story. It was a story of a "boy named Benny, who
went to sea in a boat alone. The story will be contained in the
next chapter.
I ought to say, however, here, that Lapstone, instead of relating
the narrative as a story, proposed at first to sing it as a song. He
said that it was as a song that he learned it. Some of the chil¬
dren objected to have a song instead of a story, for they said a
song would not be long enough.
" Oh, but this is a very long song," said Lapstone. " It is very
long indeed. It is a kind of song which they call a ballad. It
has ever so many verses in it."
In consideration of its being so long, the children concluded to
hear it, and so Lapstone began. This was the first verse:
" The night was dark, and the wind was high,
And the fisherman didn't come home;
The lightning gleamed in the angry skv,
With rattling thunder loud and nigh,
And the sea was white with foam."
Lapstone-'s voice was not very smooth or harmonious. He had
been accustomed only to sing to sailors in stormy nights, amid
the noise made by the winds in the rigging, and by the boisterous
62 JIMMINY.
P — '
Lapstone concludes not to sing the story, but to relate it.
seas, and the music which he made was not well adapted to please
gentle and quiet girls. Indeed, Lapstone was not very well satis¬
fied himself with his performance, and after finishing the first verse
he paused a moment, as if not entirely certain about proceeding.
Jimminy helped him to decide by saying, in a very gentle voice,
" Uncle Lapstone, it seems to me that you don't sing very well."
Lapstone laughed.
4' And besides," said another of the girls, "we can't understand
it so well if you sing it. "We had rather that you would tell it
to us."
"Very well," said Lapstone. "I'll tell you the story. I think
that will be better."
So he proceeded to relate to the children the story contained in
the next chapter.
The children listened to it with great attention and pleasure,
and they said, after it was finished, that they had been doubly paid
for the work which they had done in gathering the currants.
" The feast of currants that you gave us to eat," said they,
" was pay enough, and the story was pay enough. Either one
was pay enough alone, so that we have been paid twice over."
the story of benny.
Lapstone commences the story of Benny, the fisherman's boy.
63
CHAPTER Y.
the story of benny.
" There was once a fisherman who had a little son named Ben¬
ny. The fisherman used to go out over the sea in his boat a fish¬
ing. He used to go out in the morning and come home at night.
But one night he did not come home.
" That night was a very dark and stormy one. The lightning
flashed, and the thunder rattled loud and long in the sky. The
wind "blew, and the sea roared, and the waves which rolled in
whitened the whole shore with their foam.
" Benny's mother was very anxious and unhappy because her
husband did not come home. Before it was dark she went down
to the shore two or three times to watch for his coming, and after
64
*-
THE STOEY OF BENNY.
Benny consoling his mother for the absence of his father in the storm.
it grew dark she went a great many times to the window and to
the door.
" She rocked the baby to sleep, and put him in the cradle.
Benny was a little older than the baby. It was time for Benny
to go to bed too, but his mother did not send him to bed, because
she felt so lonesome. Benny was a brave boy, and he comforted
his mother very much by his courage and by his cheering words.
" ' Mother,' says he, ' don't cry; don't be troubled, mother.
Father will come home pretty soon. He would come now, I am
sure, if he only knew that you wanted him to come.'
" Then again, after a little while, he said, ' Mother, you must
not be so troubled. Besides, mother, you can go to bed and go to
sleep; Pll sit up till my father comes home. I can take care of
him when he comes. I can put the chair to his supper-table for
him, and put his wet coat to the fire to dry.'
"All the answer that Benny's mother could make to this was
to press him to her heart, and say, lDear little Benny!'
" Benny was greatly troubled to see his mother look so dis¬
tressed. When it lightened very sharp, and thundered very loud,
and she shuddered with terror, he would say,
" 'Never mind it, mother; it sounds pretty loud, but I don't
think it is very near.'
" Benny said this because it was what he had heard his father
say in such cases before.
" At last the thunder-clouds seemed to pass slowly away, and
the moon began to shine again. The wind, too, went down, but
the sea continued wild and stormy. It grew later and Jater, ancj
THE STORY OF BENNY.
65
Benny goes to lie down in the bed-room. Where he went next.
Benny's mother became more and more anxious and troubled. At
last, however, she said it was time for Benny to go to bed.
" But Benny begged her not to send him to bed.
" ' Do not send me to bed, mother,' said he, ' until father comes
home. There will be nobody to take care of you if I go away.
Besides, I must be ready, when he comes home, to help him take
care of the boat and the fishes.'
"At last his mother consented that he should not be undressed,
but she said that he must go into his little room and lie down on
the bed.
" ' Then,' said she, 'if you are awake when father comes home,
you can get up again immediately.'
" So Benny went into his room. His mother sat down discon¬
solate by the fire. It was not cold, but Benny's mother had had
a fire to get supper with for her husband.
"After a few minutes she called out, 'Benny!'
" But Benny did not answer.
" Then she called out again a little louder, 'Benny!'
" Still Benny did not answer.
" 'Ah! he has gone to sleep,' said his mother; ' I'm glad of it.
Dear little fellow, how he loves to take care of me!'
" But Benny was not asleep: he had gone out by another door,
in order to go and see if he could not find his father.
" Benny's father had a great dog named Nelson. When Ben¬
ny went to the door, he found Nelson standing on the grass a lit¬
tle way before the house, and looking off over the sea.
" ' Do you see him coming, Nelson V said Benny.
66
THE STOKY OF BENNY.
Conversation between Benny and Admiral Nelson.
" Nelson answered by a very low and suppressed bark. He
meant that he almost thought he saw him, but that he was not
sure.
" Benny stood on the great flat stone that formed the step of
the door, and looked up at the moon, which was just breaking
through into an opening among the dark clouds. Then he looked
at the tree-tops near, which were waving in the wind. Then he
looked out over the sea. The white caps were chasing each oth¬
er rapidly along the dark expanse, and the whole line of the coast
was white with foam.
" 'Admiral,' said Benny, 'let's go and see if we can't find
father.'
" The people often called Nelson 'Admiral;' indeed, his proper
name in fall was Admiral Nelson.
" ' Will you go with me, Admiral,' said he, 'if I'll go? Moth¬
er is so much troubled.'
" Nelson answered as before, with a low and half-suppressed
bark.
" ' Well, Admiral,'"replied Benny, ' then we will go.'
" So Benny walked along down toward the shore, Nelson run¬
ning by his side. Nelson knew very well that they were going
for his master, and he was very glad. He had been watching for
him, and pitying Benny's mother in her distress all the evening.
"Benny and Nelson went down to the shore. There was a
little cove there, and a boat in it fastened to -a pier.
'"We must go in this boat,' said Benny; 'it is all the way
there is to go.'
THE STORY OF BENNY.
67
Embarking in the storm. Benny bails out the boat.
" So Benny began to unfasten the boat. Nelson leaped about
the pier with delight. He was rejoiced that somebody was going
to find his master, and still more to think that he was going too.
" 'Jump in, Admiral,' said Benny, when he had got the boat
unfastened.
" So Nelson jumped in. Then Benny got in too, and by means
of one of the oars that he found in the bottom of the boat he be¬
gan to push it off from the pier.
"Nelson stood with his fore feet upon the gunwale of the boat,
and looked over the margin of it, watching the operation.
" There was water in the bottom of the boat, and Benny could
not find a good place to stand.
" ' Ah! Admiral,' said he, ' first I must dip out the water. That
is the way that my father does.'
" So Benny took the tin dipper that his father used for bailing
out the boat, and began to dip up the water that had come into
the boat from the rain, and to pour it out over the side into the
sea. He worked at this for a long while. Nelson stood by look¬
ing on. -
" ' Ah! Admiral,' said he, ' you would help me, I know, if you
could, but you don't know how. Besides, you could not hold the
dipper.'
"Nelson uttered a low bark as before, and wagged his tail.
" Benny persevered until he had poured all the water out. He
then put the dipper away, and, sitting up on the seat, began to
look about him. The tide was going out at this time, and the
boat had drifted some way from the shore. It was now rocking
68
THE STORY OF BENNY.
Benny and the Admiral at sea. The cuddy. Benny searching for a bed.
up and down, too, on the waves, with so much motion that Benny
found himself obliged to hold on by the gunwale to keep himself
in his place.
" As soon as Benny began to look about him, he found that the
shore was quite far away.
" ' Ah ! Admiral,' said he, ' the shore has gone away.'
♦'Nelson wagged his tail, and looked up eagerly into Benny's
face.
" ' No,' said Benny, after a moment's thought, 4 it must be that
we have gone away from the shore. We are going out to the sea.
That is just what we wanted to do. I don't know whether we
are going exactly right, but I think it must be somewhere this
way that my father has gone.'
" Benny looked out over the waves, and he began to be a little
afraid. Nelson looked out too.
" 'Don't be afraid, Admiral,' said he. 'It is rather stormy,
but then the moon shines bright, and we can see where we are
going. Pretty soon we shall find our father, and then we shall
know exactly what to do.'
" It was not cold, but the wind was blowing fresh, and after a
little while Benny concluded to lie down in the bottom of the
boat in order to shelter himself from it. There was a small cud¬
dy in the forward part of the boat, where things could be put in
and kept out of the rain. There was a door to this cuddy ; the
door was fastened by a button. Benny opened this door in order
to see if he could find something inside to make a bed for him to
lie down upon.
*fHE STOKY OF BENNY.
69
The great-coat in the cuddy. Benny went to sleep in the boat. Aground.
" He found an old great-coat there. It was one which his fa¬
ther kept in the boat, so as to have it ready in cold and stormy-
times.
" Benny pulled out the coat.
"'Ah! this is just what we want, Admiral,' said Benny.
' See!'
" So saying, Benny spread down the coat in the bottom of the
boat, in the driest place that he could find, and lay down upon it.
He called Nelson to come and lie down too.
" 'Lie down here close before me, Admiral,' said Benny, ' and
I will keep you warm.'
" So Benny lay down, and Nelson by the side of him. For
some minutes Benny talked to Nelson, to amuse him and prevent
his feeling lonesome, but his voice gradually grew more and more
faint, and at last he fell asleep.
" Nelson did not go to sleep. He lay awake and listened. He
listened to the roaring of the wind, and to the shocks of the waves
tossing against the bows and sides of the boat.
" In the mean time the tide, which was going down, had car¬
ried the boat out beyond the shelter of the land, and out into the
open sea, where it was more fully exposed to the wind. There it
began to be driven by the force of the wind along the shore. It
was driven so for many miles, and at last it came to a place where
the shore turned in such a direction that the wind blew toward it.
The boat accordingly drifted gradually toward the beach, until, at
last, at every falling wave the keel of it touched a little on the
sand.
70
THE STORY OF BENNY.
How Benny and Nelson disembarked. Benny finishes his nap on the shore.
" This thumping waked Benny up.
" 'Admiral,' said Benny, "what's the matter?'
" Nelson started up, barked, and wagged his tail, but he could
not explain to Benny what was the matter. Indeed, he did not
know himself what was the matter.
" The boat swung round side to the shore, and a great wave
happened to come rolling in just as the wave before it had gone
down and left the keel of the boat grounded. The consequence
was that the boat was rolled almost entirely over, and Benny and
Nelson were both rolled out upon the sand. Benny immediately
crept up on the beach to a place where the sand was dry, and Nel¬
son, seizing the great-coat in his mouth, followed him.
" ' What is it V said Benny, rubbing his eyes.
" Nelson dropped the great-coat, and began to lick Benny's face
and hands.
"Benny crawled along a little farther to a place under some
bushes, and, opening his eyes, he looked up a moment at the moon.
Then he looked out upon the sea, and upon the waves coming in
upon the shore, and upon the boat, which was rolling over and over
in the surf. He could not tell where he was. He thought it was
all a dream. He was very sleepy too, and so he put his head
down again, shut his eyes, and was soon fast asleep.
"As soon as Nelson saw that Benny was asleep, he pn11p.fl the
great-coat over him as well as he could, in imitation of what he
had so often seen him do with the bed-clothes when Benny went
to bed, and then lay down by his side.
" Nelson lay some time with his eyes open, watching the boat
THE STORY OF BENNY.
71
Waking up in the morning. Where is the boat? A beautiful day after the storm.
as it rolled over and over in the surf. He did not know what it
was, and he was not sure that it was not some sea-monster trying
to come up upon the land to cany off Benny. So he watched it
well, and when it came up a little nearer than usual he would start
up and bark. He would bark gently in such cases, for fear of
waking Benny up. At last, however, the boat gradually worked
its way along the shore till it got out of sight, and then Nelson,
following Benny's example, went to sleep.
" At length the morning came. The sun rose, and after it was
up a little it began to shine with warm and pleasant beams on the
place where Benny and Nelson were lying. Nelson awoke early,
but he did not move, for he did not wish to awaken Benny.
"At length Benny awoke and opened his eyes.
" ' Admiral,' said he, ' are you awake V
" Nelson wagged his tail, rapping it, as he lay, gently against
the sand.
"Yes, you are awake,' said Benny, ' and it is time for us to get
up; it is morning.
" ' But what became of our boat ?' he added, rising up and look¬
ing around him ; * where is our boat ? We were in a boat, and I
don't know what has become of it.'
" So saying, Benny rose and stood upon his feet. The sea was
calm, and the beams of the morning sun were reposing serenely
upon it. The beach was smooth, and the sand was warm and dry.
"Benny looked about upon this scene for a few minutes quite
bewildered ; he scarcely knew where he was.
" 'Admiral,' said he, at length, 'I don't know what we shall
72
THE STORY OF BENNY.
Nelson's opinion as to what had better be done. What the dog did with the great-coat.
do. We had a boat, but I don't know what has become of it. I
think we had better go home.'
" This was precisely Nelson's opinion. If he had been alone,
that is exactly what he would have at once determined to do. As
it was, he considered it his duty to await Benny's decision, and to
conform his own conduct to it, whatever it might be. But when
he heard Benny say that he thought it best to go home, he fully
concurred with him, though he could only express his concurrence
by wagging his tail and looking up earnestly into Benny's face,
and showing, by his attitude and the expression of his counte¬
nance, that he was ready to set off immediately.
" 'Only,' continued Benny, 41 don't know the way. Do you
know the way home, Admiral ?'
" Nelson wagged his tail more than ever, and as he saw that
Benny was setting off, he ran on before him to show him the way.
"After he had gone a short distance he recollected the great¬
coat, and he went back and attempted to bring it with him; but
he found it too heavy. After dragging it along a little way, he
concluded that it would be necessary to abandon it. So he left
it in a safe place under a bush, and ran forward again to guide
Benny in the right way.
"The place where they were was a great many miles from
home, and Benny himself would not have known at all which way
to go, but Nelson knew perfectly. The way led for a time along
the path. Presently it came out into a road. The road led
through a wood, with pretty flowers growing here and there under
the trees.
THE STOKY OF BENNY.
73
The dog advises Benny not to stop to gather flowers. Benny is tired with walking.
" ' What a pretty wood this is, Admiral!' said Benny. ' I've a
great mind to stop and gather a few of these flowers.'
"Nelson turned and looked up earnestly into Benny's face, and
then ran along the path again. He thought it was best not to stop.
"'I will only stop one minute,' said Benny.
"So he went out by the road side and there gathered a few
flowers. He gathered enough to make a pretty little bouquet just
large enough to carry in his hand.
" In the mean time, while Benny was gathering the flowers,
Nelson ran back and forth in the road, barking a little, and seem¬
ing very uneasy. He thought that Benny ought not to stop for
the flowers.
" 41 am coming in one minute,' said Benny.
" So, as soon as he had finished his bouquet, he came back into
the road again and went on. Nelson now seemed to be satisfied,
and he went on before him quietly, leading the way.
"Presently they came out of the wood and entered an open
country. The country was very pretty. There were farm-houses
and fields along the road; but there was nobody to be seen either
about the houses, or in the fields, or along the road. The reason
was it was so early in the morning.
" Benny went on in this way for more than an hour. Then he
began to be tired.
" 'Admiral,' said he, 'I am tired. I am very tired indeed.'
" Benny stopped in the middle of the road as he said this, and
Nelson came to him and looked up into his face earnestly and
compassion ately.
74
THE STORY OF BENNY.
Benny tries an expedient. He finds Nelson not so good to ride on as a horse.
"It was not necessary for Nelson to look up very high to see
Benny's face, for he was a very large dog, and Benny was a very
small boy, and so Nelson's head was almost on a level with
Benny's.
"' I am very tired, Admiral,' said Benny, ' and I wish you
would let me ride a little way on your back.'
" Nelson barked and wagged his tail, and so Benny mounted
on his back. Nelson held very still while he did so. As soon
as Benny had mounted, Nelson began to walk along and Benny
rode. But he found it hard to hold on. Nelson's back was very
round, and there was no saddle, and Benny found himself contin¬
ually slipping off on one side or on the other.
" Nelson did all he could to prevent this by walking very care¬
fully and steadily; but still Benny found it hard to keep his
seat.
" ' You do very well, Admiral,' said Benny, ' and you try hard
to carry me steadily; but still I can't ride on your back, because
it is so round. I wish I had a horse.'
" Benny had often ridden on a horse. His father would put him
on, and let him ride up and down the lane, while he himself walk¬
ed along by his side to catch him in case he should fall. Benny
had in this way at last learned to ride so well that sometimes his
father would let him ride up and down the lane alone.
"'If you were only a horse,' continued Benny, 'I could ride
very well indeed, but I never learned to ride on a dog.'
" So Benny slipped down from Nelson's back, and began to
walk along again.
THE STORY OP BENNY.
75
Looking for a horse. Benny found a horse and caught him.
" * I mean to look out,' said Benny, i and see if I can not find
a horse.'
" So Benny looked, as he walked along, into all the barn-yards,
and pastures, and woods that he went by, in hopes of seeing a
horse. He saw several cows in the barn-yards, waiting for the
people to get up and milk them, and so let them go to pasture,
but for a long time he saw no horse. Once he heard a trampling
among the bushes in the margin of a wood, and he went in a little
way to see what it was; but, instead of a horse, it proved to be
two oxen that were there. They looked at Benny for a moment
very earnestly, when they saw him coming into their wood, and
then went on browsing the leaves of the trees.
"At length Benny came to a place where, at a little distance
before him, he saw a horse feeding by the road side, near a small
farm-house.
" ' Ah! Admiral,' said he, ' here is a horse. Now, if I can only
find somebody to put me up, I'll have a ride.'
" There was a rope halter round the horse's neck. The end of
the rope was wound round his neck again, and fastened in an easy
knot.
" ' Ah!' said Benny, ' he has got a bridle on already. He has
not got any saddle on, but that is no matter.'
" So Benny walked up to the side of the horse. The horse
lifted up his head and looked at Benny a moment, and then put it
down and went to cropping grass again. At the same time he
moved a step farther on.
" Benny took hold of the li alter and untied the knot which fast-
76
THE STORY OP BENNY.
How Benny managed to mount the horse with nobody to help him.
ened the end of the rope. He unwound the end of the rope from
his neck. It was very easy for him to do this, for the horse held
his head down all the time, and continued feeding. He paid no
attention to Benny at all. He thought he was too small a hoy
for him to pay attention to.
" ' And now, Admiral,' said Benny, ' there's nohody to put me
on. I don't see what I am going to do.'
" Nelson wagged his tail, and leaped about a moment this way
and that. He would have Ibeen extremely glad to put Benny oh
the horse if it had been in his power to do so.
" 'I'll lead him up to the fence,' said Benny. 'Perhaps I can
get on his back by climbing up first on the fence.'
" So Benny led the horse out toward the fence. Nelson fol¬
lowed him, leaping about and wagging his tail.
" Benny led the horse up alongside the fence, and then gave
Nelson the ,end of the rope to hold.
" ' Here, Admiral,' said he, ' hold the bridle while I get on the
horse.'
" So Nelson took the end of the rope in his mouth, and held it
very still, while Benny climbed up upon the fence. The horse,
being a very quiet and gentle farm-horse, used only for carting
and plowing, stood very still, and allowed Benny and Nelson to
do with him whatever they pleased. Accordingly, when Benny
reached the top of the fence, he easily succeeded in getting over
upon the horse's back.
" ' And now, Admiral,' said he, when he was seated, ' hand me
up the bridle.'
THE STORY OF BENNY.
77
Benny wants his bridle. Nelson leads the horse and his rider toward home.
" This, of course, Nelson could not do: he was not tall enough
to hold up the rope so that Benny could reach it.
" He tried very hard to do it, but he could not quite succeed.
The way that he tried to do it was by standing up on his hind
legs, and resting his fore paws on the horse's shoulder. In this
way he could hold the rope up pretty high, but Benny could not
quite reach it. Benny did not dare to lean over very far, for fear
of falling off the horse.
" i Never mind, Admiral,' said he at last, ' it is no matter about
the bridle; you may keep it, and lead the horse along; that will
do just as well. And, besides, I can have both my hands then to
78
the stoky of benny.
Benny wants to dismount. Whoa! Stopping by the road side.
he continued to walk on quietly along the road, as if he had not
received any order at all.
" ' Admiral,' said Benny, in a stern voice, 4 stop I'
" Nelson paid no attention, but walked steadily on; indeed, he
walked a little faster than he had done before.
" Benny was for a few moments quite perplexed. He did not
know what to do. Presently it occurred to him to give his order
to the horse instead of Nelson.
" ' Whoa!' said he.
" The horse moved his ears and hung back a little, as if he
were inclined to stop, but Nelson pulled forward.
" ' Whoa /' said Benny again, speaking louder than before—
'Whoa!'
" The horse stopped. He turned his head so as to look at the
road behind him, and also to look at Benny on his back. He did
not know exactly what to make of these singular proceedings.
There seemed to be evidently some difference of counsel between
the dog and the boy, who were for the time being his two masters,
but as he did not understand the case very well, and as, in turn¬
ing his head back, his eyes fell upon a smooth and pretty plat of
grass by the road side, he concluded to walk out there and eat,
while Nelson and Benny were settling it between themselves what
was to be done.
'5 So he walked out upon the grass and began to eat. He was
stronger than Nelson, and so Nelson was obliged either to let go
the rope or to follow him. He concluded to follow him.
" 'Now,' said Benny, 'if I could only get downI'
THE STORY OF BENNY.
79
Nelson's condolence on Benny's fall. Benny and Nelson send the horse back.
" So he laid his head down upon the horse's neck, and slipped
his right foot over the horse's back, and then undertook to slide
down "by his shoulder. He went on very well at first, but the
distance was greater than he had supposed, and he came down at
last too rapidly, so that he fell over on his back when he reached
the ground, and struck his head somewhat violently. He was very
much frightened and somewhat hurt, and he immediately began
to cry aloud.
" The horse took no notice of this misfortune, but went on eat¬
ing as before. Nelson, however, seemed very much concerned;
he dropped the end of the halter and ran up to Benny, and began
to lick his face and hands.
" ' That is all because you would not lead the horse up to the
fence,' said Benny; 'I could have got off very well if you had led
him up to the fence.'
" Benny soon found, however, that he was not hurt much, and
so he got up, and began to consider what to do next.
" 'We are not going to take the horse any farther,' said he to
Nelson, ' and so we had better send him home. But first I must
tie the halter up again.'
" So saying, Benny went to the horse, and, taking the end of
the halter which Nelson had laid down, he wound it again around
the horse's neck, and tied it as well as he could in the way in
which it was tied before. He then took a stick and drove the
horse out into the road again. Nelson helped him by barking.
When , the horse got into the road, Benny began to drive him back
in the way that lie came.
80
THE STOEY OP BENNY.
Home in sight at last. How Benny's father got home.
" ' Seize him, Admiral!' said he; 'seize him! make him go home!'
" On receiving this order, Nelson barked at the horse and made
him go along at a brisk rate toward home. After following him
for a short distance, and getting him well under way, Nelson turn¬
ed again and came back to Benny.
" ' Now, Admiral,' said Benny, ' we'll go on by ourselves.'
" Nelson went on leading the way until, at length, he began to
draw near to the place where Benny lived. When he found that
he was almost home he seemed overjoyed, and he leaped about
Benny, and ran this way and that, manifesting his joy in the most
extravagant manner. At last the house came in sight.
" In the mean time, while Benny and Nelson had been making
their journey homeward, Benny's mother was busy at the fire get¬
ting breakfast. Her husband had got home. He came about
midnight. She was so overjoyed to see him when he came, and
so busy afterward in drying his clothes and in giving him his
supper, that she thought no more about Benny, whom she sup¬
posed to be all the time asleep in his room. She forgot that she
had not undressed him and put him to bed as usual; but she
supposed that he had lain down and gone to sleep in his clothes,
a thing not uncommon with fishermen and fishermen's boys all
the world over.
" ' Where's Benny, Joanna V said the fisherman, as he sat down
to his breakfast.
"'He has gone out to play somewhere,' said his wife. 'I
have just been into his roqm, and he is not in his bed, and so I
suppose he has got up early and gone out to play.'
THE STORY OP BENNY.
81
The fisherman goes out to find Benny and Nelson.
" 'I hope he is safe,' said the fisherman.
" ' Oh yes, he is safe,' said Joanna. ' Nelson is with him, and
he will take good care of him.'
" ' That reminds me,' said the fisherman, ' Nelson did not come
out last night when I came home. Where is he ?'
" ' I don't know, I'm sure,' said Joanna.
" ' He always comes down to the shore when I get home,' said
the fisherman, ' and barks about there with joy and gladness.
But last night he did not come.'
"'I don't know why,' said Joanna. 'Perhaps he was too
sleepy.'
" ' I think it is very strange,' said the fisherman. ' I mean to
go and see what has become of him.'
" So the fisherman went out to the door and whistled for Nel¬
son. Immediately after whistling for him, he saw him leaping
and frisking about the margin of a thicket, where a little path
came out of the wood. He barked and leaped about, and seemed
desirous of coming in answer to his master's call, but he appeared
as if kept back by somebody or something still in the wood.
" 'Benny!' exclaimed the fisherman, calling out loud. 'Are
you there V
" ' Yes, sir,' answered Benny's voice from within the thicket.
" ' Come here,' said his father.
" 'Yes, sir,' said Benny, 'I'm coming.'
" Benny soon emerged from the wood, and then, walking on as
fast as he could, he soon reached the house. His mother came
out to the door to meet him.
29 F
THE STORY OF BENNY.
83
Benny tells his father and mother how he spent the night.
" ' We took it last night,' said Benny. ' We got in the boat,
Nelson and I, and we went out to sea, and we sailed all around,
and we looked all about, and we could not find you, and then—'
" ' And then what ?' said Joanna, looking at Benny curiously,
and with a lurking smile on her face. At the same time she
whispered in her husband's ear, ' It was a dream he had, dear lit¬
tle fellow!'
" Benny's mother thought he had been sound asleep in the bed
in his little room all night long.
" ' And what then V said Joanna, wishing to hear the rest of
what she supposed was Benny's dream.
" ' Why, then I came home—on a horse,' added Benny.
" Here Benny's father and mother laughed aloud at the idea of
going to sea in a boat and coming home on a horse.
" 'That's a curious way, Benny,' said his father, 'of coming
home from sea.'
" ' Only,' continued Benny, ' beginning to look very sorrowful,
and putting his hand up to the back of his head, ' I fell off the
horse and hurt my head.'
" Here Benny's father and mother laughed again, and this so
disconcerted poor Benny that he said no more in respect to his
adventures; and to this day his father and mother suppose that
the story which he told them was an account of the impression
made on his mind by a dream."
" And was it a dream, really ?" asked one of the girls, after Lap-
stone had finished this narrative.
84
THE STOEY OP BENNY.
How the fisherman recovered his boat again.
" I don't know," said he, gravely, shaking his head; " I never
could find out."
" Well, I'm sorry the fisherman lost his boat," said Jimminy.
" That was too bad."
"He didn't lose it, after all," said Lapstone, "for that after¬
noon he took his fishing-boat and rowed along the shore in the
direction the tide had been running, and before long he found it
floating, bottom-side up, in the water. The great-coat was gone.
The fisherman supposed it must have sunk when the boat cap¬
sized."
oekney.
85
Orkney. Where he came from. The Aldebaran.
CHAPTER VI.
orkney.
Among the other boys of the town where Lapstone lived was
one named Orkney. He was an orphan. He came to the place
from sea, and he now lived at a carpenter's. The other boys in
the village liked him very much.
Orkney came to America in a ship in which Lapstone made one
of his voyages. It was the ship Aldebaran, Captain Stormer.
The Aldebaran was a whaling ship, that was sent in pursuit of
whales into the icy seas. After knocking about among the ice¬
packs of Spitzbergen and the coast of Greenland for a year or two,
and catching a great many whales there, she set out on her return
home. The first land that she made in coming back toward the
temperate regions was one of the Orkney Islands.
86
ORKNEY.
Captain Stormer puts in under the lee of the island. Hailing a boat.
"Now, then," said Captain Stormer to bis men, when the land
hove in sight, " we shall stand a chance of getting some fresh veg¬
etables."
So he ordered the helmsman to steer in such a direction as to
"bring the ship round to the leeward of the island, so that the boats
of the natives could come off and bring some fruits and vegeta¬
bles. The people that lived along the shore of the island were al¬
ways on the watch for whaling ships coming home, for the crews,
having been confined so long to salt meat and dry biscuit—which is
all the kind of food that can be well taken to sea on long voyages
—are very eager to procure something fresh as soon as they come
again in sight of land that is inhabited by civilized people.
The reason why Captain Stormer went round under the lee of
the island was because there the water was comparatively shelter¬
ed, especially close in to the shore, and the boats could therefore
put off more easily from the beach. Still it was a breezy day,
and the sea was somewhat rough; but, notwithstanding this, a
boat put off, as soon as the ship came to, and after rowing out till
it got near enough to be within hail, the captain called out through
his speaking-trumpet,
"Boat A—hoy—oy!"
A man on board the boat answered, "Hal—loo!"
"What—have—you—got—to—sell?" shouted the captain.
The man said that they had some potatoes and some garden
vegetables; also a pair of chickens.
"Have not you got any thing else besides that?" asked the
captain.
ORKNEY.
87
Conversation between Captain Stormer and the boatman. The boatman's boy.
The boat was all this time coming nearer and nearer, and now,
"being pretty near the ship, the boatman rested on his oars, and,
rising in his boat, he said that he had not any thing else. The
captain was disappointed. He wanted to get some fruit.
" Then you have not got any thing to sell," said he, " but veg¬
etables and two chickens ?"
" No," said the man. " Except that boy," he added; " I'll sell
you that boy, if you want to buy him, cheap."
The man meant this for a joke. As he said it, he pointed to a
boy who was standing in the stern of the boat, with his hand upon
a little tiller.
" Well, come alongside," said the captain, " and let us see your
vegetables."
So the boatman pulled his boat alongside, and, leaving the boy
in the boat to hold on to the ship by a boat-hook, he climbed
up the side i of the ship into the main chains, and so got on
board. .
After some bargaining between the Orkney man and the cap¬
tain, a trade for the vegetables was concluded, and the sailors let¬
ting down a basket by a rope, the boy put the things into it, and
they were hoisted on board.
The boy performed his duty in this operation so skillfully and
so well, and he looked up when the basket loads were ascending
with so frank and intelligent a countenance, that the captain was
very much pleased with him; so he asked the man what he meant
by saying that the boy was for sale.
''Why, I did not mean much of any thing," said the man;
88
orkney.
The Orkney man proposing to sell a boy. The captain tries him.
" but still there the boy is, and if you take a fancy to him you
can have him cheap."
" Why, is he a bad boy ?" asked the captain.
" No," said the man; " on the contrary, he is a very good boy,
and quite a hardy little sailor. But then boys are too plenty on
these islands. We have got more than we know what to do with."
"Is this one your son?" asked the captain.
"No," said the man. "His father is dead, and his mother is
dead too, and he has been living with me for a while; but if you
like him, you may take him to America, and there you can make
a man of him. Here he never can become any thing at all."
This conversation took place on the deck of the ship, just over
the place where the boat was lying. It was, however, carried oh
in an under tone, and the boy did not hear a word of it. The
captain hesitated, and seemed to be thinking.
"At any rate," said he, at length, "I should like to see what
sort of stuff he is made of. You just order him to row ashore in
the boat."
" Alone ?" asked the man.
" Yes," said the captain. " Tell him that you are going to stay
on board a little while."
The man was surprised at receiving this direction from the cap¬
tain, for the distance from the shore was more than a mile, and
the sea was so rough as to require all the strength of a full-grown
and experienced oarsman to make headway against it.
" Give him the order," said the captain. " I want to see what
he will do."
ORKNEY.
89
The boatman's command to the boy. Obedience. . What the captain said.
The man then looked down into the boat, and called to the
toy.
*' Halloo, Monkey!" said he; "you may go ashore in the boat.
I am going to stay on "board a while."
" Yery well, sir," said the boy.
So saying, he at once let go his hold of the ship—for he had re¬
sumed his hold after he had finished putting the vegetables into
the basket—and pushed the boat off. He then took up the oars,
one after another, and placed them in the thwarts. The sea, in
the mean time, was knocking the boat about in a very rough man¬
ner, but he paid no attention to this motion. He proceeded very
quietly to take his seat upon the thwart, and to begin to work the
oars. He pulled first both of them, and then only one, looking
over his shoulder from time to time to see where he was going.
In this way he gradually worked his Way around under the stern
of the ship, and then headed his boat toward the land. He pulled
very slowly and steady at his oars, but the wind and the sea were
so heavy against him that he made very little progress. Still he
kept on.
44 Yes," said the captain, 44 that boy will do. Call him back."
So the man hailed the boat, and ordered the boy to come back
alongside.
The boy immediately obeyed. He stopped rowing with one
oar, and pulled with the other, until he had brought the boat
round, and then passing again under the stern of the ship, he came
up alongside again, under her lee.
44 Tell him to come on board," said the captain.
90
ORKNEY.
Orkney sails for America. Lapstone's instructions to Orkney.
So the man ordered the boy to come up the side. The boy
first fastened the painter in the chains, and then climbed nimbly
up the side of the vessel.
" Well, my boy," said the captain, " how would you like to go
to America ?"
" I should like to go -very well," said the boy.
The captain then made farther inquiries, and finding that there
was nobody on shore who claimed any relationship or guardian¬
ship over him, concluded to take him. So the man left him, just
as he was, on board the whaling ship, and went back to the shore
in his boat alone. The captain immediately made sail, and thus
the boy set out on his journey to America.
The sailors on board the ship asked him what his name was,
and he said he had not much of any name. Sometimes, he said,
they called him Bob, and sometimes Monkey. The sailors said
that the first was no name at all, and the second was not a name
fit for any Christian. So they called him Orkney, and that was
the way he came by his name.
It happened that Lapstone was one of the sailors on board the
ship Aldebaran at the time of this occurrence, and he became very
well acquainted with Orkney on the voyage home. Indeed, Ork¬
ney was a great favorite with Lapstone, and Lapstone taught him
a great many things pertaining to seamanship while coming across
the Atlantic. He taught him to splice and to make all sorts of
knots in ropes and cords, and to do a great many other such things.
He taught him the names, too, and the uses of every thing about
the ship. Orkney made himself very useful to all on board, so
ORKNEY.
91
What became of Orkney when he arrived in America.
that he became a general favorite. When they landed, Lapstone
asked the captain to let Orkney go home with him.
"I can get him a good place there in the village," said he,
" and that will Tbe better for him than to grow up a sailor and go
to sea. A sailor's life is a hard life."
"That's a fact," said the captain. "A sailor's life is a dog's
life. The best thing you can do for him is to take him with you,
and get him a good berth on shore."
So Lapstone took Orkney with him to the village where he
lived, and there he offered him to a carpenter for an apprentice.
"No," said the carpenter, "I \^on't have any apprentices. I
don't believe in apprentices. They'll stay quietly enough as long
as they don't know enough of their trade to earn their living, but,
as soon as they begin to be able to pay a little back of the ex¬
pense and trouble they make, then they are off before you can
turn round to ask where they are."
"Ah! but Orkney is not one of that sort," said Lapstone.
" He is a different kind of craft altogether."
" How do I know that ?" asked the carpenter.
" Try him," said Lapstone.
"Well," said the carpenter, " I like the looks of the boy, and
I don't care if I try him. He may come and live at my house a
little while if he likes, and I'll see what sort of a boy he is. He
can do the chores about the house, and go to school. If I find
that he does well and is handy with tools, perhaps I'll take him
for an apprentice one of these days."
So Orkney went to live with the carpenter, and he had now
92
ORKNEY.
Orkney in the village. He is a general favorite. '
been there for a considerable time. He was not more than ten
years old when Captain Stormer brought him to America, and
now he was nearly thirteen. But he was small of his age, and
the carpenter said there was plenty of time yet for him to begin
to learn his trade.
Orkney became a great favorite, not only with the carpenter and
his family, but with all the boys of the village, and, indeed, with
all the people who knew him.
He was modest and unassuming in his manners, but yet he was
so intelligent, and so energetic and persevering, that in every thing
that the boys undertook he was almost always put forward as
leader. His character in those respects will appear, however, more
fully by what will be related in the next chapter.
the orkney dock.
93
The boys propose to build a dam on Lapstone's brook.
CHAPTER VII.
the orkney dock.
I have already stated that at the foot of Lapstone's little field
there was a low, swampy piece of ground, with a small brook me¬
andering through it, and a path leading down there to a place
where the cow was accustomed to go to get water. One after¬
noon, when two or three "boys were playing in the, field, Orkney
among the rest, the plan was proposed of making a dam across
this brook, at a point just above the cow's watering-place.
" If we make a dam there," said Munday, " and raise the wa¬
ter, we can have an excellent place to sail our boats."
" But if we make a dam and stop all the water," said Top,
"then the cow won't have any drink."
94
THE OEKNEY DOCK.
Asking permission. Orkney's rule. Be sure of your right before you begin.
"Ah! yes," said Munday, " she will have as much as ever, for
the dam will get full the first night, and then the water will run
over the top and come down to the watering-place just as fast as
ever. So let's make the dam. What do you say, Orkney ?"
"I say yes," said Orkney, "if Uncle Lapstone is willing."
" Oh, he won't care," said Munday.
"We had better go and ask him," said Orkney.
Munday and Top were rather averse to formally asking Lap-
stone's permission that they might make a dam, for they imagined
that he might possibly make some objection in that case, while, if
they were to go and do the work without saying any thing about
it, he would not care. Boys often act on this principle in doing
things which they are not quite sure that their fathers, or whoever
has power in the case, might approve.
But Orkney never would do so. "Before I begin," he would
say, " I want to be sure of my right to begin. If we go to mak¬
ing a dam without leave, then we shall all the time have secret
misgivings about it, and whenever we see Uncle Lapstone coming,
we shall be half afraid that he is coming to scold us and drive us
away. We'd better be sure that he likes it first."
" But perhaps he won't say that he likes it," argued Munday,
" and yet he would not care a bit if we should go on and do it."
"Then, besides," said Top, "who shall go and ask him?"
" I'll go and ask him," said Orkney.
Orkney was not one of those boys, of whom there are usually
several on every play-ground, who are very ready to propose
things not quite agreeable to be done, while they are not willing
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
95
Orkney goes to ask Lapstone for leave to build the dam. An objection.
to do them themselves. He was always ready to do himself what¬
ever he proposed or advocated as a thing that ought to be done.
"If it ought to be done," he would say, "it is right to do it;
and if it is right to do it, I may as well do it as any body."
So, when the question arose who should go to Lapstone to ask
his leave for them to build the dam, he said at once that he
would go.
"Well, go then," said Munday. "Go right away now."
So Orkney went up to the house, and, entering the shop-room
where Lapstone was then at work, he delivered his commission.
"The boys want to know," said he, "whether you have any
objection to their building a dam on the brook, down at the bottom
of the field."
" Hm!" said Lapstone, making a sort of inarticulate sound that
expressed neither assent nor refusal.
" Because," added Orkney, " by making a dam, we can have an
excellent place there to sail our boats—if you have no objection."
" There's always a great objection to boys building dams," said
Lapstone, " and that is, that they always get themselves covered
with mud from head to foot."
Orkney was silent.
"However," said he, "perhaps we can contrive some way to
get over that objection. How many boys are there ?"
"Four," replied Orkney, "besides me."
" Call them all here," said Lapstone.
So Orkney went out to the gate which led to the field, and call¬
ed the boys to come up to the spot.
96
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
Lapstone establishes a light-house. A keeper is wanted. Lapstone's plan.
" Boys," said Lapstone, " I'll tell you what I'll do with you.
You know the place where the rocks and trees are, on the little
knoll in the field, where I said there was a good foundation for a
light-house ?"
"Yes," said the boys, "where the little seat is that Orkney
made."
"That's the place," said Lapstone. "Well, we will imagine
that there is a light-house there, and that I want a keeper for it.
Now you may build a dam, on condition that you will appoint
one of the small boys inspector. The inspector is to watch. The
first time he sees any mud on any boy's clothes, he is to send him
up to keep the light-house till that mud gets dry and he has
brushed it off clean."
The boys agreed to this proposal. They all said that they
could work, in building the dam, without any danger of getting
themselves muddied.
"We will see," said Lapstone. " Then there is another thing.
I'd rather you would make a dock than a dam, or, rather, a dock
and a dam too. Then you'll get a much larger place to sail your
boats in."
" Good!" said Munday. " Let us do it that way. But how is
it, Uncle Lapstone ? How do you make a dock ?"
" Why, you first make an excavation by digging out all the
mud so as to form a great basin, as big as you want to sail your
boats in. Then you make a dam and fill your basin with water.
I'll tell you exactly how to proceed."
"Well, sir," said Orkney, " we should like that very much."
THE ORKNEY DOCK. 97
Lapstone gives the boys directions. Draining. How to keep dry.
"Only," said Munday, "I don't see how we are going to dig
out the mud without getting ourselves dreadfully muddy."
"Ah! we will dry up the mud first," said Lapstone, "before
we begin to dig it out. It will take you a great deal longer to
make the dam my way, but it will be a great deal better in the
end."
"Very well, sir," said Orkney; "we would rather be longer,
and so have a good dam."
Lapstone then went on to say that the first thing that they had
to do was to drain the swampy place, so as to let the mud become
in some measure dry. To this end he said that they must go to
work with hoes, and deepen the channel of the brook all through
the ground, especially where it ran off. Thus, instead of filling
in the channel to make a dam and stop the water, the first thing
was to dig it out deeper than it was before, so as to let the wa¬
ter off.
"Then," said Lapstone, "you must make side-channels lead¬
ing to the brook from every part of the swampy place, wherever
the ground is low and wet."
" But, Uncle Lapstone," said Munday, " we shall sink deep
into the mud in trying to do that."
" You must get a board to stand on," replied Lapstone. " Find
a pretty long board, and lay it down by the side of the place
where you are going to make your drain. Then you can stand
upon the board, and dig along the edge of it. But you must ap¬
point your inspector the first thing, and he must send the first boy
that gets muddied to keep the light-house."
29 Gr
98
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
Thorough work is slow. Top the inspector. -A- dispute.
The arrangement thus made was carried into effect. The boys
went and got hoes and shovels wherever they could find them, and
then began their work. They deepened out the channel of the
brook, especially at the lower part of it, where it ran off out of
the field. They also dug drains through all the lowest and wet¬
test part of the swamp. They worked in this way almost all the
afternoon. Lapstone had told them that they would not be able
to do any thing more than to finish draining that day.
"And then," said he, "you must leave it till next Wednesday
afternoon, when you will have another half holiday. By that
time the water will have run off, and the ground will have become
much harder. Then you can dig more drains if necessary, till the
ground becomes dry enough for you to dig it all out without get¬
ting muddied."
Top was appointed inspector, and he watched well to see wheth¬
er any of the boys muddied their clothes. Only one case occur¬
red, and that, unfortunately, led to a dispute. It happened that
Munday was standing on the board, digging up mud with a long-
handled shovel from the line of the drain, while another boy,
whom they called Nat, was at work pretty near. Munday was
very careful, in taking up his shovelful of boggy ground, not to
muddy himself, but in dropping it in its place on one side of the
drain he spattered Nat a little. Nat at once cried out, in a very
harsh and complaining tone,
"Look out, Munday, how you throw your mud about. See
how you have spattered me."
This called the inspector's attention to the occurrence, and he
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
99
The question is referred to Orkney. Argument. Orkney's opinion.
immediately decided that Nat was muddy, and that he must go up
and keep the light-house till the mud was dried.
"No," said Nat, "I am not the one. I was not to blame. It
was all Munday's fault. He is to go and be light-house keeper,
and not I."
"No," said Munday, "it was not my fault. It was yours for
being so nigh. Besides, Uncle Lapstone said that it was the one
whose clothes got muddied that was to keep the light-house, and
that is you, not I."
" I'll leave it to Orkney," said Nat. '
"Agreed," said Munday; "I'll leave it to Orkney too."
This was a very common way of ending disputes among the
boys, when Orkney was near.
So they both began very eagerly to tell the story. Orkney
quieted them as well as he could, and listened first to one and then
to the other, until they had both said all that they had to say.
The inspector stood by in silence all the time, awaiting the result.
The work on the channels and drains was of course all suspend¬
ed, except that the water seemed busy in a great many little
streamlets, taking advantage of the new openings that had been
made to run off as fast as possible.
" It is very hard to decide against either of you," said Orkney.
" It does not seem as if Munday ought to go, because he has not
got muddied."
"No," said Munday, turning to Nat, "I told you so."
" Nor does it seem right that Nat should go, for he was not at
all to blame."
100
His decision. Two liglit-house keepers. The draining uu^.
"No," said Nat; "that's just what I said."
" So I can't really decide that either of you ought to go. But
I'll tell you what I think would be an excellent good plan, and
that is, for both of you to go. That would Tbe obeying Uncle Lap-
stone's rule handsomely. You see we want to deal honorably
with Uncle Lapstone, since he lets us make a dam on his land;
and if, when you can't decide which of you ought to go, you both
go, that would be acting very honorably indeed."
" Well, Munday," said Nat, "let's go. It won't take long."
"Agreed," said Munday. "I'd as lief go as not."
So both of the boys went up to the light-house station, and
there sat on the seat in the sun, talking very pleasantly together
until the muddy spot had dried, and then they rubbed it off, and
immediately afterward came back to their work.
When supper-time came the boys went home, leaving the water
to drain off from the boggy land through the channels which they
had opened for it at its leisure. It was understood that they
were not to resume their work on the ground until the next
Wednesday; but on Monday morning they all came to the place
to see how the operation of draining was going on. To their
great satisfaction, they found that the ground had become so much
harder, that, with a little care, they could walk about all over the
bog.
The next Wednesday afternoon they came to resume their
work. The bog was now so much consolidated by the effect of
the draining that they could dig in it any where as in dry ground.
Lapstone came down to the place to assist them in laying out
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
101
Orkney forms a system by which the hoys work to great advantage.
their work. He told them that what they had to do was to dig
out the whole bog, and wheel the sods, and earth, and tussocks
of bulrushes which composed it, out upon the hard ground.
"You must spread it about evenly all over the ground," said
he, " and it will make excellent soil, and next spring I will set
out trees and make a grove there."
So the boys laid out their work for making this excavation.
Orkney formed a system for them, so that the work might go on
with order and regularity. They began at the lower part of the
bog. The ground was to be shoveled out to the depth of one
spadeful. That would make the water deep enough in the basin,
they calculated, to float any vessels that they should wish to sail
there. They laid down a long board from the place where they
were going to begin to dig to the place on the firm ground where
the boggy ground was to be deposited. Then it was arranged
that for one hour Orkney was to load the wheelbarrow, and Mun-
day was to wheel the load and upset it on the hard ground.
Top was to put the sides in again, which usually fell out in the
upsetting, and wheel the wheelbarrow back; and a boy named
Charlie, who was quite a small boy, was to keep tally of the num¬
ber of loads wheeled, by means of a smooth board and a piece of
chalk which Orkney gave him for that purpose.
Orkney calculated that by this system the work would go on
steadily all the time, and without any interruption; for it was so
arranged that each one of the boys could rest in turn without stop¬
ping the work. Orkney would rest from his loading while Mun-
day was wheeling the load away. Munday would rest while he
102
THE OKKNEY DOCK.
Lapsfcone's supervision. The work is kept a secret. vvhy r
was walking back, and while Orkney was loading the barrow
again. Top, who was smaller than Munday, would have but a
light task in putting in the sides and wheeling back the empty
wheelbarrow; and Charlie, of course, would not require any rest
from the work of keeping tally.
Besides all these there was Nat. His business was to level off
the heaps made by upsetting the wheelbarrow loads on the bank,
and to move the board, from time to time, as might be necessary,
in order to distribute the loads properly over the ground which
was to be covered.
Lapstone came down himself once or twice to see how the work
was going on. He always found it going on very well. He
marked out a boundary for them, to show how far they were to
dig. He made the boundary the margin of the hard ground, all
around the little swamp, following the natural curves of it so as
to make places that would become bays and harbors when the ba¬
sin should be filled with water.
At the end of the first afternoon the boys found that they had
half finished their excavation. They determined to come the next
Saturday afternoon and complete it. Orkney advised them not
to say a word about their plan to any of the other boys of the
town, for fear that they might want to come, and that, if they
came, they might hinder them in their work.
" There are as many of us here now as can work to advantage,"
said Orkney, " and more would only be in the way."
The boys all thought this suggestion a very judicious one, so
they kept the enterprise in which they were engaged a profound
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
103
The appearance of the basin. The flat stone. Another altercation.
secret until the next Saturday, when they all came and resumed
their work in the excavation.
They went on with the work in substantially the same way as
on the first day. They changed the parts from time to time, as,
indeed, they had done on Wednesday, that is, after one had wheel¬
ed for an hour he changed from wheeling to loading, and let the
one who had loaded before take his place.
At length the excavation was completed. The place then pre¬
sented the appearance of an irregularly-shaped but shallow basin,
with green banks all around, and a small brook meandering
through the middle of it. There were a number of deep indenta¬
tions in the shores, where the boys intended to establish ports and
harbors for their vessels, as soon as the dam should be completed
and the water raised. One of these harbors terminated at a place
where a flat-topped stone lay in the ground, near where it appear¬
ed that the shore would come when the pond should be full.
This flat stone was, unfortunately, the cause of another quarrel
between two of the boys, though, happily, through the interposi¬
tion of Orkney, the quarrel did not lead to any serious conse¬
quences.
The case was this: Top, whose attention was first drawn to
this flat stone, went and took his stand upon it at the time when
the boys, after finishing the excavation, were surveying the work.
" This stone would make an excellent wharf for us," said Top,
"if it was only down nearer to the water."
" It will be near the water," said Orkney, " as soon as the dam
is made and the pond is full. Don't you see the water will come
104
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
The boys contend for the best harbor. Orkney proposes to draw lots.
up there in all that harbor, and fill it all full just to the edge of
the stone?"
"Then I mean to have this place for my harbor," said Top,
" and this shall be my wharf. I speak for it."
"No," said Munday, "you can't have it by speaking for it.
That is the best harbor of all, and it ought to belong to one of
the large boys. I am going to have that."
"No," said Top, " I spoke first for it."
" Let us see how many harbors there will be," said Orkney.
So saying, he led the way, and was followed by the other boys
all around the basin, or dock, as Lapstone proposed to call it, and
as he went he counted the places which would serve as harbors.
There were four—not quite enough to make one for each boy.
" Never mind," said Orkney, " I will take a point of land in¬
stead of a harbor. That will do just as well for me. I can build
a wooden wharf upon it."
So saying, he selected a point of land on one side of the exca¬
vation, where the hard upland had protruded a little into the
swamp, and said that he would take that for his place.
"And now, as to the rest," said he, "I propose that we draw
lots for them, to prevent quarreling."
The boys finally consented to draw lots, though Top, who con¬
ceived that he had a right to the flat stone harbor in virtue of hav¬
ing spoken for it first, yielded very reluctantly to this proposal.
He finally consented, on Munday's telling him that like as not he
would draw the harbor that he wanted. So Orkney numbered
the harbors one, two, three, and four, and then he made lots of
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
105
Munday draws the best harbor. Top's dissatisfaction.
spears of grass, and let the other boys draw, it being understood
that the one who drew the longest lot should have number one,
and the rest the others in order of the length of their respective
lots. The harbor with the stone was numbered three, and it fell
to Munday.
Top, instead of submitting to the decision with a good grace,
immediately declared that it was not fair. He discovered the har¬
bor first, he said, and he spoke for it first, and drawing lots for it
was not fair.
"But you agreed to it," said Munday. "We all agreed to
draw lots, and now you ought to stand to your agreement."
"I don't care," said Top. "I only agreed to that way because
you told me that I should get the one I wanted."
"No," said Munday, " I said perhaps you would. I could not
tell that you certainly would. When we draw lots, nobody can
tell beforehand how we shall come out."
"Well," said Top, speaking in a very dissatisfied and com¬
plaining tone, " I never would have drawn lots if I thought that
I was going to get that ugly old harbor over there, that is not
good for any thing; and if I can't have the one I spoke for, I
won't have any."
So Top came over to the place where Orkney was at work hoe¬
ing out some loose fragments of sods which had been left in the
bottom of the basin, and stood there in a sullen attitude and very
much out of humor. The other boys went to work at their sev¬
eral harbors, trimming off the shores, and putting them into a
good shape, ready for the raising of the water.
106
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
Orkney's ingenious way of treating an ill-humored boy.
" I'm going off," said Top, speaking to Orkney. " I am not
going, to have any thing more to do with this dam."
"You have helped us a great deal so far," said Orkney.
" Yes," said Top; " and I think it is a shame that I can't have
the harbor that I spoke for first."
" I am sorry," replied Orkney; " but if I were you I would not
go away just now. You'd better stay a little while longer and
help us plan about the dam ; because, you see, if you go off now,
the boys will think that you went away in a huff, just because
you could not have the harbor that you wanted. Wait a little
while till this difficulty has been forgotten a little, and then you
can go away good-naturedly."
"No," said Top, sullenly, "I am going away now."
" Then I'm afraid that the boys will say that you went off in
a fit of ill-humor. If you or I were there when they said it we
might contradict it, but they might perhaps -say it when we were
not there, you know."
" I'm not out of humor," said Top, moodily, "but I don't want.
to have any more to do with such a dam as this."
" Then perhaps I might have your harbor," said Orkney, "and
so join it to my point of land, which comes next to it, and that
would make me a first-rate place."
" Would it?" asked Top, his eye brightening up a little at the
question.
"Yes," said Orkney, "first-rate; and if you were going to stay,
you and I might own them both, together."
" We might do that," said Top.
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
107
Forming a partnership. Top, Orkney & Co. The construction of the dam.
"We should have a partnership, you see," said Orkney; "it
would "be Top, Orkney & Co."
" That would be a good firm," said Top ; " or we might call it
Orkney, Top & Co."
" Yes," said Orkney; " but it would be more proper to have
your name first in the firm, because you put in the most capital,
you know."
" How is that?" asked Top.
" Why, you own the harbor, and I only a point of land; and
the harbor is worth the most, especially such a good harbor as
that."
" Do you think it is a.very good one?" asked Top.
" Yes," said Orkney, " especially as it comes so near my point
of land, so that we can make a partnership. You see, we can
build a wharf in the harbor, and another on the point of land, and
then we can take our vessels to either, just as we please."
" So we can," said Top, "and so we will."
The partnership was accordingly formed, and. nothing more was
heard of Top's going away.
On the next Wednesday afternoon the boys began to build
their dam. Orkney made a wooden sluice-way, with a gate which
could be opened and shut. This sluice-way was large enough to
allow all the water of the brook to pass through, and it was to be
set so low as to allow the water to flow through it without ob¬
structing it at all. The boys made a bed of clay in the bottom
of the brook to set this sluice-way in, and then, they put in clay
at the sides of it, and rammed it down well. This sluice-way was
108
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
The dam is finished. Lapstone comes dovrn to examine the "work.
made quite long—as long, in fact, as the dam was to be wide at
the bottom, and then the dam was to be built from the two sides
of it, out each way to the bank.
The boys built a dam of earth. A part of this earth they ob¬
tained from the sides of the basin which they had excavated, and
the rest from a place in the field where, by digging a little, they
found some dry gravel. They covered the top of the dam with
this gravel, so as to form a road-way to walk on, and the sides,
down to where the water's edge was to come, they lined with
sods, so that it might look green and pretty. They continued
this road across the sluice-way, and there the sluice-way served
the purpose of a bridge as well as a gateway for the dam.
The dam was at length finished; the bottom of the reservoir
was raked smooth, the banks were trimmed off neatly all around,
and wharves in the several harbors were made, by means of pieces
of plank resting on short posts driven down into the ground at
the margin of the water, or rather at the place where the margin
of the water was expected to come. When, at length, all was
ready, the boys went up to the house and asked Lapstone to come
down and see them shut the gate and raise the water.
So Lapstone came. He first took a survey of the whole work,
in order to see that it had been executed properly, and that every
thing had been done according to the directions which he had
given the boys from time to time. He walked over the dam on
the pathway that had been made along the top of it. When he
arrived in the middle, he stopped to examine the sluice-way and
the gate. He shut down the gate, and then raised it again, in
THE ORKNEY DOCK. 109
Shutting the gate. The water rises, and the pond is full.
order to see whether it worked well. He found that it did work
very well indeed.
At length, after the examination had been finished, and Lap-
stone had found every thing right, he gave orders to have the
gate shut, and the water began immediately to rise. The boys,
and Lapstone himself as well, watched the progress of it with
great interest. It soon began to overflow the banks of the little
channel in which it had been flowing, and spread in every direc¬
tion over the bottom of the excavation which the boys had made.
The bottom was hard, for the boggy land had consisted of only a
very thin stratum of loam, resting on a subsoil of what the farm¬
ers call a hard pan, and the boys, in removing the mud, had laid
the pan, which consisted of sand and gravel, quite bare. The water
was somewhat turbid at first, and a great number of leaves, straws,
and little sticks were seen whirling round and round in various
circling eddies on the surface of it. But Lapstone told them that
as soon as the water rose to the level of the top of the gate, all
the floating impurities of the surface would be drawn off, and that
all those that were held in suspension below would subside to the
bottom in a single night, and that then their pond would be as
clear and bright as the most polished mirror.
It turned out as Lapstone had predicted. The pond became
beautifully clear, and the boys, during all that summer, spent a
great many pleasant hours in sailing their boats and vessels upon
it. Lapstone helped them make and rig their vessels. He pro¬
vided a bench in his shop, precisely similar to his shoemaker's
bench, only, instead of tools for making or mending shoes, he fur-
110
THE ORKNEY DOCK.
Lapstone's ship-building bench. Why he called the pond a dock.
nished it with all sorts of materials for rigging ships. There
were little slips of wood to be made into masts and spars, and
twine and thread of different sizes for rigging, and strips of cam¬
bric and muslin for sails, and for flags and banners, and sharp
knives, and gimlets, and brad-awls, and a variety of other such
things.
Lapstone had told the boys that their work, inasmuch as it
consisted chiefly of an excavation for floating ships, was more
properly to be designated as a dock than as a dam, and the boys
accordingly named it Orkney Dock, in honor of the very essen¬
tial services that Orkney rendered in the whole process of con¬
structing it.
the aldebaran.
Ill
Winter at Lapstone's home. Snow shoveling. The boys at work.
CHAPTER VIII.
the aldebaran.
In the part of the country where Lapstone lived the winters are
■usually quite mild, and very little snow falls. It happened, how¬
ever, that the next winter that came after the Iboys built their dam
was a very severe one, and several times so much snow fell that
it was necessary to shovel paths. On such occasions the hoys
came to shovel Lapstone's paths, and he agreed to pay them by
telling stories.
One morning, while Munday, Orkney, and Top were at work
clearing off the snow from the steps of Lapstone's door, after hav¬
ing made a good path from the door along through the yard to the
gate, and also back to the barn, the sun came out very bright, and
112
THE ALDEBARAN.
Making a path to the brook for the cow. Cutting a watering-place.
the morning looked so pleasant, that Orkney proposed that they
should all go down into the field and see the dock.
"Besides," said he, "we ought to go and make the path there
for the cow to go down and drink."
"But she can't drink," said Top, "if she goes down there, for
the dock must he all frozen over solid."
"Then we will take an axe with us," said Orkney, "and cut a
hole in the ice."
So the boys went along through the path which they had made
to the barn, and there they got an axe. Orkney took the axe,
while Munday and Top carried shovels; and with these tools on
their shoulders, they waded down across the field in the direction
of the cow-path. There was no sign to be seen of their dock, or
of any of the work connected with it. The whole was buried up
in the snow. The basin itself, the harbors, the wharves, the dam,
and every thing else, had entirely disappeared, and in their place
there was nothing to be seen but a smooth and uninterrupted ex¬
panse of snow.
The boys waded about in this snow for some time trying to
find their several harbors, or to identify other points of interest
about the dock and dam. While thus employed, they talked to¬
gether of the good times they had had the summer before in sail¬
ing their vessels on this sheet of water, and of the different ves¬
sels that they had respectively owned. The name of Orkney's
favorite ship had been the Aldebaran.
" How came you to give your vessel such a name as that ?"
asked Munday.
THE ALDEBARAN.
113
The voyage of the Aldebaran among the iceberga in the Arctic Ocean.
" Why, that was the name of the whale-ship that I came to
America in," said Orkney.
" Where did she come from ?" asked Munday.
" She came from the Arctic Ocean," replied Orkney; " she liad
been there among the icebergs, catching whales."
" I mean to get Uncle Lapstone to tell us about it," said Mun¬
day.
" I have no doubt that he could tell us a very interesting story
about it," rejoined Orkney.
"We'll ask him," replied Munday: "let us go right up and
ask him now."
So the boys went up to the house. They found Lapstone in
his back room, eating his breakfast.
"Well, boys," said he, "you have made me some excellent
paths. I have been looking at them. I owe you quite a long
story."
" That's just what we want," replied Orkney; " we want you
to tell us about the Aldebaran in the Arctic Ocean."
" Ah!" said Lapstone, "the voyage of the Aldebaran, and how
I got lost in a boat among the icebergs, and about the white bears.
Ah! but that is too long a story. We shall have to wait for
another snow-storm before you can earn all that story."
"You can begin it, at any rate, Uncle Lapstone," said the boys.
" We have earned the beginning of if, and then, when there comes
another storm, we will earn the rest of it."
"And, in the mean time," said Munday, "you can tell it all,
and trust us for the work to earn the end of it."
29 H
114
the aldebaran.
The boys in Lapstone's shop listening to tlie story. Their occupations.
"Ah! but I don't know," said Lapstone; "it is not very safe
to trust boys in that way. In fact, I don't trust any body. Don t
you know that I've got a card with ' No Trust' on it put up in
my shop ?"
"Yes; but, Uncle Lapstone, you do trust a great many peo¬
ple, nevertheless."
" And you ought to trust us as well as the rest," said Top;
" we are as honest as any body else."
"That's a fact," said Lapstone. "Well, at any rate, I'll be¬
gin the story, and as to the finishing of it, we will talk about that
by-and-by. Come into my shop some afternoon when I'm at
work there, and I'll begin the story."
So the boys came into the shop the very first afternoon when
there was no school. Munday brought an old stocking which he
was going to unravel and make a ball of while listening to the
story. Top held the stocking for him. Orkney, who was learn¬
ing to draw, brought a board and pencil, and he occupied himself
in making a drawing of Lapstone in different positions, as he sat
on his bench mending a shoe and relating the story to the boys.
" The Aldebaran," said Lapstone, " was a fine ship. She was
built expressly for the northern seas. You see, a ship that is to
go into Baffin's Bay or the Arctic Ocean must expect a good
many ugly thumps from icebergs and floes."
" Why can't you keep out of the way of the icebergs and
floes?" asked Top.
"We can keep out of the way nine times out of ten," said
THE ALDEBAEAN.
115
What the look-out says when he sees a whale. Sunshine at midnight.
Lapstone; " but you'll hear all about that in the course of the
story.
" At one time in the month of July, just after I came up on
deck at the beginning of my watch, at midnight, the man in the
crow's nest called out, 4 There she blows!'
"What did he mean by that?" asked Top.
"Why, that he saw a whale. You see we had a cask fastened
to the mast-head which we called the crow's nest, and a man sta¬
tioned there all the time watching for whales, and whenever he
saw one spouting off at a distance, he would call out, ' There she
blows!' This cry always stirred us all up on board, you may de¬
pend, both fore and aft, and above and below. In three minutes
every man was on deck, calling out' Where away V The man in
the crow's nest said that the whale was about two miles off on
the starboard bow, not very far from the great floe of ice which we
could see from the deck lying in that direction."
" I don't see how you could see so far if it was midnight," said
Munday.
" Why, bless you," said Lapstone, " the sky was clear and the
sun was shining as bright as it is now."
Here Top and Munday both laughed out with incredulity.
They thought that Lapstone was making a joke of his story by
talking in that manner. But Lapstone proceeded to explain.
" If you ever noticed particularly, boys," he continued, " you
will observe that the sun, in these latitudes, does not rise in the
summer in the east, and go straight up the sky till it gets over¬
head, and then down straight on the other side to the west, but it
116
THE ALDEBARAN.
Summer and winter, and day and night in the Arctic regions.
goes round, in a slanting direction, toward the southward. If you
want to see the sun rise in the east and go right up perpendicu¬
larly, you must go to the line. Were any of you ever on the
line ?"
" On what line?" asked Munday.
" On the Equinoctial line," replied Lapstone. " In the trop-
ICS.
" No," said the "boys ; " of course not."
"Then," said Lapstone, "you have never seen the sun go up
straight into the sky. It always goes off round by the southward.
In these latitudes it goes round about so."
Here Lapstone made a sweep with his arm round toward the
southern side of the shop, in order to indicate to the boys the de¬
gree of obliquity in the sun's path through the heavens in the lat¬
itude in which they lived.
"The farther you go north," said Lapstone, "the more slant¬
ing the sun goes, until at last, instead of rising and setting as it
does here, he goes round and round the sky, in summer a little
above the horizon, and in winter a little below. So you see, in
those latitudes, the sun shines all the time in summer, and in win¬
ter he does not shine at all.*'
" Then how do you know when it is day and when it is night,"
asked Munday, " if the sun shines all the time ?"
" Why, when the sun is due south," said Lapstone, " it is noon ;
and, on the other hand, when he is due north, it is midnight, no
matter how bright he is shining."
"But then, in the winter, how do you tell?" asked Orkney.
THE ALDEBAKAtf.
117
The ship's bells. Value of the whale. How the sailors are paid.
"Why, in the winter it is not quite so easy," replied Lap-
stone, "for then the sun is down all the time. He goes round
and round below the horizon, but then he does not go round ex¬
actly even. He is up nearer to the horizon when he gets round
to the southern side than when he is on the northern side, and
that makes a kind of glow in the sky there, like daylight in the
east in a winter morning here. When we see that daylight in
the south, then we know that is noon for that day.
"But we don't depend upon that, after all," added Lapstone;
"We depend on the ship's bells. The captain and the first mate
determine when it is noon every day, and the ship's bells strike
accordingly, and, by that means, we all in the forecastle keep the
run of the time exactly.
" Well, as I was saying, we were all on deck very soon. The
look-out man said that it was a large whale of the best kind. We
knew from that that he was worth, if we could only catch him,
one or two thousand dollars. Now you must know that when a
whale is taken, every seaman on board of the ship has a share in
the oil when we get home, and so we are wide awake to catch
every whale that we see. Besides, we know that the sooner we
get the ship filled up the sooner we shall come home and get our
shares."
"But what can you do with so much oil?" asked Munday.
" Oh, we never take our shares in oil, but in money," replied
Lapstone. " They always sell the oil as soon as they get into
port, and we take our portions in money. And a right jolly time
we have too, some of us, in spending it.
118
THE ALDEBARAN.
The dangers of the pursuit. The boat approaches the whale.
"We got out two boats as quick as possible," continued Lap-
stone, resuming his story, " and prepared to go off after the whale,
though we were not quite easy about the business, on account of
the floe of ice. The floe was in motion, and it might, for aught
we knew, crowd in between us and the ship while we were off
after the whale, and so prevent our getting back again. The cap¬
tain said that there was some risk in it, and he would not have
any body go unless they volunteered. But every body was ready
to volunteer; so we manned the boats and off we went."
"Which boat was you in?" asked Munday.
"I was in the first one," said Lapstone.
"That's right," said Top. "I would have gone if I had been
you. I should not have been the least afraid of the ice."
"No," said Lapstone, " I suppose not. Boys of your size are
very brave. We pulled ahead, and in less than half an hour were
up with the whale. He was lying quietly on the water, and we
pulled up to him all ready to harpoon him. There was a man in
the bows of our boat with his harpoon in his hand. We had had
capital luck so far. "Very often, when you row a couple of miles
to get to a whale, you find, when you reach the place, that he has
gone down. Then you have to wait a while till he comes up
again."
" How do you know that he will come up again at all ?" asked
Munday.
"He is obliged to come up to breathe," replied Lapstone.
"You see the whale is a breathing animal. He is not like other
fishes. He breathes air, and so he has to come up from time to
THE ALDEBARAN.
119
The whale compared with other animals and fishes.
time. Other fishes, if they breathe at all, breathe only water, and
they can stay below all the time. But a whale can not. He is
obliged to come up to the surface very often, and put his nose out
where he can breathe."
"It is very lucky for the whale-catchers that he is," said Ork¬
ney.
" Indeed it is," rejoined Lapstone. " If it were not so, there
would be no possible way, that I can think of, of catching him.
It would not be very easy to pull a ninety-foot whale up four or
five hundred fathoms with a hook and line, as the Marblehead
fishermen pull up cod on the banks of Newfoundland."
Lapstone was perfectly right in his account of the whale as a
breathing animal, or, rather, an animal breathing air. The reason
why he must breathe air is because he is a warm-blooded animal,
and it is in some mysterious way or other that breathing air keeps
the blood warm. There are various other animals that live in the
water that are warm-blooded and breathe air, such as dolphins,
grampuses, porpoises, seals, and walruses. The two last, how¬
ever, do not live exclusively in the water, but crawl out sometimes
a little way upon the land. All these animals, however, and all
others like them, though they can stay under water a long time,
must come up occasionally to breathe the air, for it is only by
breathing air that blood can be kept warm.
The blood of fishes, strictly so called, is not warm. It is al¬
ways very nearly as cold as the water in which they are swim¬
ming.
" The man in the bows," said Lapstone, continuing his story,
120
the aldebaran.
" Stern all!" Getting out of the way. A whale s revenge.
"threw his harpoon. It struck the whale in the side. The in¬
stant that it was thrown, the man at the helm called out,
" ' Stern all !'"
Lapstone shouted out this command in such a voice of thunder
as to make all the boys start.
"That was the order," continued Lapstone, "for every man to
hack water; for the moment that a whale feels the prick of the
harpoon in his side, he plunges desperately, and lashes the sea
with the flukes of his tail, and sometimes throws himself about so
violently, that the boat would be upset, and every body in it would
be plunged into the sea, if it were not got quick out of the way."
" And did you get your boat out of the way quick enough ?"
asked Top.
"Yes," said Lapstone; "though there came such a wave
against us, which the whale made by a dash of his flukes, that
we came within one of going over. Luckily, the whale did not
see us. He pulled right ahead, and our line began to run out as
fast as ever I saw a line run."
" Does the whale always go right ahead," asked Orkney," when
you put the harpoon into him ?"
"No," replied Lapstone; " sometimes he goes this way and
that, without advancing much. Sometimes he turns round after
a while, and comes at the boat with his mouth open."
"And what happens then?" asked Orkney.
" Why, we all jump out of the boat as fast as we can into the
sea, and then the whale munches up the boat, but he lets us go.
He takes no notice of us. yVe are too small."
THE ALDEBAEAN.
121
The pursuit of the whale described by Lapstone.
" But then I should think you would all be drowned," said
Munday.
" No," replied Lapstone; " the other "boat comes and picks us
up. We swim about until the other boat comes."
"But suppose that any of you can't swim," said Orkney.
"Ah! if there was any body on board that could not swim, he
would go down to the bottom—if there is any bottom in those
seas, and I suppose there is—about five hundred or one thousand
fathoms down.
"But sometimes," continued Lapstone, "the whale goes down
himself. If he keeps on the surface and swims all about, we hold
on and he drags the boat after him ; but if he goes down, we have
to watch, and as soon as our line gets run out, we have to cut
loose from him, and then we are apt to lose every thing—whale,
line, harpoon, and all."
" I should think you would be sure to lose them," said Ork¬
ney.
" No," replied Lapstone, "we are not sure; for the whale comes
up again after a while, and if he comes up any where in sight of
either boat, we have a chance to make fast to him again. This,
in fact, is what happened with us at this time. The fellow went
down. But first, however, he ran with us five or six miles into
an open space between two great floes of ice. When we saw that
he was going in between those floes, we had a great mind to cut
loose from him; but we concluded, on the whole, to venture in."
"Why, what danger was there?" asked Orkney.
"The danger was," replied Lapstone, "that the floes would
122
THE ALDEBARAN.
The whalemen between the floes. Cutting loose from the whale.
close and shut us in. You see these floes of ice are all the time
moving, and they might close up and shut us in."
"What makes them move?" said Orkney.
" The wind," replied Lapstone, " and sometimes the currents in
the sea. If there is no wind, the currents drift them about gener¬
ally to the southward. When there is a wind, especially if the
wind blows for a long time in one direction, it sets the floes in
motion; and when they once get in motion, they continue to move
a long time after the. wind goes down or changes. Now, you see,
the wind might blow in different ways in different parts of the sea,
and so set two floes a going in opposite directions. In that case,
if there was open water between them, it would be very dangerous
for a ship or a boat to go in, inasmuch as the floes might close up,
and then any thing between them would be crushed, or at least
be shut up and imprisoned. If it was a ship, it would be very
likely to be crushed."
" But why not if it were a boat ?" asked Munday.
"Because a boat might possibly be saved by being pulled up
upon the ice; but a ship must be left to her fate. A boat, and
especially a whale-boat, might, perhaps, be drawn up and so saved.
That is what we did with our boat."
" Why!" asked Top ; " did the floes close and shut you in ?"
"Yes," replied Lapstone; "after the whale had drawn us in
five or six miles between the floes, he went down. We let him
go until our line was nearly all run out, and then we had to cut
loose from him and let him go. We then began to think of our¬
selves, and all our anxiety was to get out again into open water.
THE ALDEBARAN.
123
The floes close in and entrap the boat.
"So we turned the boat about, and began to row back again
as fast as we could. We saw that the two floes were fast com¬
ing together. We pulled for our lives. After we had been go¬
ing about half an hour, we saw a large point of ice, which pro¬
jected from one of the floes, at a short distance before us, that was
gradually advancing toward the other floe, as if on purpose to cut
us off.
" ' Pull, boys!' says the mate—for our boat was commanded,
you must know, by the second mate—' pull, boys !' says he, ' pull!
We must get by before that great three-cornered fellow gets across
our track, or it is all up with us.'
" So we pulled heartily, I can tell you. The opening between
the extremity of the point and the opposite floe grew narrower and
narrower, and at last, just before we reached the place, the mate
called out,
" ' Hold on, boys. It's of no use. We are a leetle too late.'
"We looked over our shoulders, and there we saw the two
masses of ice just coming together. When they came together,
we imagined that one or the other of the floes would be stopped;
but they were not stopped. The advance of both masses seemed
to continue precisely as before. The point which projected was
slowly broken to pieces, and ground up as if it were powder, and
we could see heaps after heaps of the broken masses rising into
the air, and then falling over with a noise like thunder. You see
the floe behind it, although it was coming on very slowly, was
moving with such immense force that nothing could stop it. Like
as not that floe extended for a hundred miles.
124
THE ALDEBARAN.
The mate's caution to the men. The dangers which Lapstone feared.
" 'Now, boys,' says the mate, 'here we are. But we shall
do well enough so long as we act like men, and you obey or¬
ders. You understand that I am commander of this boat.'
" So saying, the mate took out a revolver from his pocket and
put it in his belt, as if he meant to have it all ready in case of an
emergency. We all knew him well, and we knew that he would
be as ready to use it, if it was necessary, as he was to take it
out."
" Was not you afraid," asked Top, "when you saw him take
out his pistol ?"
" No," replied Lapstone; " I was afraid until I saw him take
it out, and then I was afraid no longer. You see the fact is, that,
in a boat's crew, in such a case as this, there are always two or
three ugly men, who, as soon as they get into any serious diffi¬
culty, become desperate and reckless. They say at once that, as
they have got to die, they may as well die a merry death, and so
they seize on the provisions, and especially the drink, if there is
any on board, and go to carousing, and refuse to do any thing to
save the party. They say it is of no use, and so they will not
try. I was a great deal more afraid of these men than I was of
the mate's pistol. I knew that his pistol would not do me any
harm, and I thought it would keep these men in order."
" Why, Uncle Lapstone," said Munday, " did you have any
provisions and drink on board ?"
"Yes," said Lapstone ; " we always put some provisions and
a small keg of brandy on board the boat when we went after
whales. We never could tell, when we left the ship, how soon
THE ALDEBARAN.
125
The loclc-up. The mate's directions. A chance of escape.
we should be likely to get back again; so we always went pre¬
pared.
" The provisions and the brandy which were on board the boat
were in a little cuddy, or lock-up in the stern, and the mate sat
upon a seat directly over it. As soon as he had put his pistol in
his belt, he ordered us to give way again, and we did, though none
of us knew what he was going to do, or how he was going to get
us out.
" We pulled, and the mate steered the boat up alongside the ice.
Then he ordered us all to get out upon the floe. We accordingly
did so.
" ' Now, boys,' said he, ' we have got to get this boat up upon
the ice, and then to slide it across this point, and launch it in the
open water beyond.'
"We all saw at once that this gave us a chance of getting out
of our imprisonment, and so we took hold with a good will, and
brought the boat up upon the floe. Then we took hold of the
two sides of it, and, balancing it in that manner on the keel, we
ran it across to the open water. Here we launched it again and
got on board. Having accomplished this successfully, we gave
three cheers.
" ' Now, boys,' says the mate, ' we'll go ahead again. We'll
go on as far as we can; but you must not expect to get out. The
floes are coming together, and they will be grinding against each
other along the whole line in half an hour, and in that time we
can't get half way back to the open water. We'll row as far as
we can, and then we will take to the ice. I don't expect that you
126
THE ALDEBARAN.
Hagar's discontent. What he wanted. The mate's responBe.
will object to that. You are not green hands. You have seen
ice before. So now give way.'
"We all began to row. We pulled heartily for some time,
looking over our shoulders now and then to take a view of the
channel of water before us, which was all the time growing nar¬
rower and narrower, and was certain soon to close up entirely.
Still we went on rowing with a good will, all excepting one man
named Hagar, who began to mutter and to find fault, and also to
hang back in his rowing so as to do little or no good himself and
rather to hinder the rest."
" What did he say ?" asked Top.
"Oh, he said that it was no use to row," replied Lapstone.
"We could not possibly get out. We might as well take the
ice there as any where. Besides, he, for one, he said, wanted a
drink. He had been pulling long enough, and he was dry, and as
there was brandy on board, he said, he did not see why they might
not have a drink.
" The mate heard this muttering, but for a time he took no no¬
tice of it. Finding, however, that the man, instead of becoming
quiet, grew more and more bold, and that he began to talk more
and more distinctly of open mutiny, he finally ordered us to stop
rowing and to take in our oars. We did so. He took his pistol
out of his belt. We all looked on and listened, wondering what
he was going to do.
" 'My lads,' said he, 'whether we ever get on board the Alde-
baran again or not depends upon the discipline that is maintained
on board this boat. Captain Stormer has put me in command,
THE ALDEBAKAN.
127
In great emergencies, perfect discipline must tie maintained at all hazards.
and he expects me to do my duty here, and I shall do it. I
shall act just as he would act if he were here in my place, and
you all know how that would be. I expect to have to sacrifice
one or two lives to save the rest of us, and you see I am ready to
do it.'
" He then stooped down and opened a little cuddy under the
seat beneath him, and drew out a small ball of spun-yarn."
" What is spun-yarn ?" inquired Munday.
"It's a kind of cord," said Lapstone, "the sailors make by
twisting together two or three rope-yarns, that is, strands of old
rope; and it's a very handy thing about ship. Well, when he
took out the spun-yarn, he cocked his pistol.
" ' I am ready to do it,' he repeated ; ' but I would a little
rather not begin quite so soon as this, if I can help it. Now, if
any of you are friendly enough to Hagar to wish to save his life,
you will just secure him, and tie him hand and foot with that spun-
yarn. Tom and Jack! take him.'
" Tom and Jack were two sailors that happened to sit on the
thwarts nearest to Hagar. You see they were good steady men,
that always obeyed orders. They would have thrown Hagar
overboard if the mate had said the word.
" Besides, they knew that the mate was always ready to do
what he said he would do, and they thought it just as like as not
that he would shoot Hagar as he sat on his thwart if they did not
seize and bind him.
" So they rose to take hold of Hagar, and he, at the same time,
began to fight them off. That touched them up a little, and they
128
THE ALDEBAKAN.
A mutinous man efficiently treated.
determined, then, that they would take him. The mate then
threw the ball of spun-yarn to the other hands that sat near, and
ordered them to tie Hagar's hands as soon as the men got them
together. The other men began to come on too, and Hagar soon
saw that it was useless to resist. So he became quiet, and let
them tie him ; only he went on grumbling and muttering defi¬
ance, and demanding what he had done to deserve to be treated in
that way.
"As soon as the prisoner's hands and feet were secured, the
mate ordered the men to lay him down gently in the bottom of
the boat, well forward. He put him there so as to be out of the
way of the rest of us at the oars.
" 'Don't hurt him,' said the mate; 'and give him as comfort¬
able a berth as you can. We'll save his life if we can, in spite
of himself.'
" All this was done so quick," added Lapstone, " that the whole
affair was over in less time than I have taken to tell it."
"And when you had him safe, what did you do next?" asked
Munday.
" Why, we saw that the ice was closing in upon us fast. The
opening that we were rowing in was growing narrower and nar¬
rower, and it was very plain that in a short time the two floes
would come together, and then there would be an end to our nav¬
igation."
" And of your boat too," said Munday; " for, of course, the
boat would be ground all to pieces." ,
" No," replied Lapstone, " we were going to escape that by get-
THE ALDEBAKAN.
129
The boatmen get out and take their boat upon the floating ice.
ting out upon the ice. So, when the mate found that we could
not go any farther, he brought the boat up, stern foremost, to the
edge of the floe on one side, and we all got out. We then pulled
the boat up out of the water upon the floe, and drew it back a ca¬
ble's length or so, to a place where there was a high hummock, in
order to get it out of the grinding." w,
"Did the mate help?" asked Munday.
" No," replied Lapstone, " he stood by and gave orders."
" But what did you do with Hagar ? Did you give him a ride
in the boat ?" asked Munday.
" Oh, we pulled him out of the boat first," replied Lapstone.
"I put him on the ice. We kept his arms tied behind him, but
we loosened the cords about his feet so that he could stand, and
even walk a little. You see we had rather have him walk than
have to carry him.
" * On the whole,' says the mate, when we had got him out,
' you may cut away the lashings of his feet, and leave him free to
go where he pleases. He may keep with us or not, just as he
thinks best. I only had his feet tied on board the boat because I
saw that he was a little inclined to kick.' "
"What did Hagar say to this?" asked Orkney.
" Oh, he was sullen," replied Lapstone. " He did not say any
thing distinctly, but only muttered between his teeth, and threat¬
ened. We paid very little attention tti him, but gave all our
thoughts to getting the boat to the hummock. Yery soon after
we got there the two floes came together."
"With a tremendous crash,! suppose," said Munday.
29 *
130
THE ALDEBAKAN.
Lapstone describes the grinding together of the floes. Breakfast time.
"No," replied Lapstone, "with no crash at all. They were
moving too slowly to make any crash. But they made a great
grinding. They seemed to he coming together with so slow and
gentle a motion that it looked as if, at the moment that they
touched, they would stop. But they did not stop at all, nor even
show any tendency to stop. The two edges of the floe went on
grinding into each other, one running under, or lapping over the
other, and throwing up ridges and hummocks of immense size,
which, after being piled up in some places forty or fifty feet high,
would topple over, and come down on the floe again. Then we
heard crashes, you may depend upon it. The grinding together
of the two floes continued in this manner as long as we staid
there."
"And how long did you stay there?" asked Munday.
"We staid there to breakfast," replied Lapstone. "You see
by this time we judged that it was about morning. It is true
that the sun was just about as high above the horizon as it was
when we started at midnight; but it had now got round to the
eastward, and so we knew that it was morning. So the mate
brought out the provisions, and gave us all some breakfast. We
ate it sitting on the thwarts of the boat, on the sunny side of the
hummock."
" Did he give Hagar any breakfast ?"' asked Munday.
"Yes," replied Lapstone; "he gave Hagar as much as any
of us."
" I don't think he deserved any," said Top.
"No," rejoined Lapstone, "he did not. The mate said that
THE ALDEBARAN.
131
Hagar unbound. Cautions. The story is interrupted.
he did not think that he really deserved any, 'but,' says he, ' I
don't want to treat him exactly according to his deserts, not if I
can help it.' "
" How could he eat," asked Orkney, " if his hands were tied
"behind him ?"
" Oh, at first some of the men fed him, but by-and-by he began
to look not quite so savage, and to promise to behave better if the
mate would untie his hands. Indeed, I suppose he thought that
the mate was dealing very generously by him in giving him some
breakfast. So the men interceded for him, and said that they
would be answerable for him if the mate would allow him to be
untied.
" 'Very well,' said the mate. 'It is just as you say. It's all
the same to me. I had him tied, instead of shooting him, out of
compassion. But, so far as I am concerned, I'd as lief shoot him
as tie him, and if you let him loose you put him to a great risk.
Still, if you are disposed to try it, I have no objection. I'll do
all I can for him, and, if he is refractory again, I'll tie him again,
if I think there is time. If there is not time, it won't be my
fault.'"
It was now beginning to grow dark in the shop, so that Lap-
stone could not see to work finy more, and he said, therefore, that
he should not tell any more of the story that day.
"I don't see what makes it dark so soon," said Munday. "It
is not more than five o'clock."
" Why, you see, the sun runs low, at this time of the year, in
these latitudes," said Lapstone. " The sun is in the east about
132
THE ALDEBARAN.
Why it is dark earlier in tlie winter than in the summer.
six o'clock in the morning, and in the west about six o'clock in
the evening, all the year round, and all the world over; but he
may be above the horizon, or he may be below it. In the sum¬
mer, he rises so far to the northward, in these latitudes, that by
the time he gets round to the east he is tip some way. Then it
is light long before six. In the winter he has gone so far south
that he is a great deal below the horizon when he gets to the east.
He does not come up till he gets a great way south of east. Of
course, then it is not light till long after six.
" It is just so in the evening," continued Lapstone. " The sun
has not got to the west yet, but he is going down below the hori¬
zon, and that makes it dark. Besides, it is cloudy."
" Then perhaps there is coming on another snow-storm," said
Munday. " Let's go to the door and see."
The boys all went to the door, and soon returned, saying that
there was a haze spreading all over the sky, and that toward the
southwest the haze was so dense that they could not see the sun
at all.
" Then there may be another snow-storm coming," said Lap-
stone ; " and if so, that will give you a chance to earn the rest of
the story."
So the boys bade Lapstone good-by, and all went home. Lap-
stone put away his work, and went out into his back room to get
his supper. His back room served the purpose of sitting-room,
dining-room, parlor, and kitchen. Lapstone had every thing
handy there for all his wants. He thought his accommodations
were very spacious, so accustomed had he been to straitened quar-
THE ALDEBARAN.
133
Lapstone eating his supper all alone at home.
ters in the forecastles on board the ships in which he had made
his voyages.
He replenished his fire, and lighted his candle, and made his
tea, and fried his sausages, and toasted his bread, and then sat
down at his little round table near the fireside and made an ex¬
cellent supper.
That night each of the boys, when he went to bed, heard a
clicking at the windows.
"Ah ! yes," said they, in a tone of exultation, "there is going
to be another snow-storm !"
134
excursion on the ice.
Why the boys were all rejoiced at the great snow-storm.
CHAPTER IX.
excursion on the ice.
The storm proved to be the greatest one that had occurred that
winter. It continued all night, and all the next day, and half of
the next night. The hoys rejoiced greatly. Boys always rejoice
when there is a great snow-storm; but, in this case, the pleasure
felt by Munday and the others was increased by the fact that the
paths which they would have to shovel for Lapstone would put
him under obligation to finish the story of the Aldebaran's boat
very soon.
Accordingly, on the morning when the storm was over, they all
rose early, and proceeded to shovel their own paths with great en-
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
135
S-hoveling paths. Working in company is pleasanter than working alone.
ergy and dispatch, in order to have time to finish Lapstone's be¬
fore school.
Orkney was on the ground first. When he arrived at Lap-
stone's house he found the shop door completely barricaded with
the snow. The drift was piled up against it nearly up to the
latch. Orkney began at once to clear it away, and he had nearly
accomplished the work before the other boys came. Then they
all went to work together to make the other paths. It was some
time before they could get the front gate open, so hard was the
snow banked in against it on both sides. But the more difficult
the task was, the better they were pleased; for the length of the
story which Lapstone was to tell them was to depend, they knew,
on the amount of work which they should do.
For this reason, they did all their work very thoroughly. They
made the paths very wide. Indeed, I think they made them
rather wider and better than those which they had made at their
own homes. This was, however, partly owing to the fact that at
home each one had to work alone, while at Lapstone's they were
all together in company. It is much more pleasant to work in
company than alone, although it must be confessed that when
working in company people are not always quite as industrious as
when they work by themselves.
When the boys had finished their paths, they called Lapstone
to come to the different doors of the house to see them. He ap¬
peared to be very much pleased, and he said that in making them
the boys had entitled themselves to hear all the rest of the story
of the Aldebaran's boat, and that he would tell it to them the first
136
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
An appointment. Lapstone resumes his Arctic story. The hear.
time they came to his shop. So they all agreed to come the next
Wednesday afternoon, and then Lapstone resumed his story as
follows:
" I have forgotten exactly where I left off," said Lapstone.
"You left off where you were all eating your "breakfast on the
ice," said Munday.
"Ah! yes," replied Lapstone ; "I remember. Well, just as
we finished our breakfast, we had an alarm."
" What was it?" asked Munday.
"Why, one of the men pointed off to a distance on the ice,
' turning, at the same time, to the mate.
" 'Mr.Dorking,' says he, 'look there!' "
"Was the mate named Mr. Dorking?" asked Munday.
" Yes," said Lapstone; " did not I tell you that before ?"
"No, sir," said Top ; " but never mind about that. Go on as
fast as you can, and tell us what they saw."
" They saw a white bear and two cubs walking along on the
ice," said Lapstone. " They were about half a mile away.
" 'Yes,' says the mate, 'I see them. They are feeding upon
something on the ice. It is a she-bear with her cubs. I don't
think she sees us. Keep perfectly still. . Let not a man move
from his place.'"
" Why did not you go and shoot the bear ?" asked Munday.
"Why, they had not any gun," replied Top.
" Yes," rejoined Lapstone, " we had a gun. We always took
a gun and plenty of ammunition whenever we went away from
Top's courage.
EXCURSION ON THE ICE. 137
The difference between a boy's courage and a man's.
the ship. But the mate thought we had "better not molest the
bear.
" 'We will not attack her,' said the mate, 'if she does not at¬
tack us.'"
" Was he afraid of her?" said Top. " I would not have been
afraid of her. If I had had a gun, I would as lief have gone out
and shot her as not."
"Yes, no doubt," said Lapstone. "Boys of your size are al¬
ways very brave. But the mate thought it most prudent to let
the hear alone. You see it would have been dangerous to go and
try to shoot her. The ball might have missed her, or, if it had
hit her, it perhaps would only have wounded her, and then she
would have come at us in all fury. So the mate thought it would
be best to let her alone."
" But, Uncle Lapstone," said Top, " it would not have been
any more dangerous to go out and try to shoot that bear than it
was to follow the whale into the gap between the two floes. And
if the mate dared to do one thing, why did he not dare to da the
other?"
"Ah! "exclaimed Lapstone, "that shows exactly the difference
between the courage of a man and that of a boy. A man is will¬
ing to take a risk when there is any thing to be gained by it that
is worth while. A boy takes risks just for the bravado of it,
when there is nothing to be gained. In the case of the whale
there was fifteen hundred dollars worth of oil at stake, and that
was worth running some risk for; but in the case of the bear
there was nothing to be gained. It would have done us no good
138
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
9
The whalemen on the ice watch the bear and cubs.
to have killed her, and by trying to do it we should have run the
risk of being killed ourselves. So the mate would not allow of
it. There were several of the men that offered to go and shoot
her. But the mate said no. He ordered us all to keep perfectly
still.
"Among others," continued Lapstone, "Hagar asked leave to
go. But the mate would not have trusted Hagar with the gun on
any account. So we all kept perfectly still under the hummock
where we had been eating our breakfast. The mate crept softly
round by the boat and got the gun, and then came back with it
to a position where he could watch the bear, and where he could
have a good chance to fire at her if she were to show any dispo¬
sition to attack us.
"We waited in this way a quarter of an hour. All this time
the bear and her cubs continued feeding. At length they seemed
to finish their breakfast, as we had finished ours, and then they
began to walk away together. They walked along a short dis¬
tance till they came to a place where there was a channel of open
water. They all plunged into the water. The great bear went
in first, and the little ones followed her. They swam across the
water, and then climbed up upon the ice the other side. This
brought them nearer to us. They turned, too, in the course in
which they were going after they got out upon the ice, and this
brought us into view. The old bear, as soon as she caught sight
of us, stopped. The little bears stopped too. The old bear then
gave a long and low growl."
" And what did you do ?" asked Top, eagerly.
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
139
The bear's cubs. What Lapstone wanted. The Newfoundland dogs.
" Nothing," replied Lapstone; " the mate ordered us to keep
perfectly still. We all, however, looked directly at the bear, and
the mate took aim at her with his gun, so as to be all ready to fire
in case she should attempt to come any nearer, as we all hoped
she would."
" Why did you hope so ?" asked Munday.
" Why, we wanted the mate to shoot her. Then we shouJd
have seized the cubs and carried them on board the ship. They
were very, small, and they were the cunningest little things you
ever saw."
"I wish I had one of them," said Munday.
" I should like one," said Lapstone, " if he could only be tamed.
But you can't tame them very well. And, after all, a dog is the
best animal for a man to have. You can rely upon a dog. He
is a faithful and true friend. But there is no kind of wild beast
that you can rely upon at all. They are very treacherous. I
mean to have, a dog some day."
" I know a man who has got some young ones to sell," said
Orkney.
" What kind of dogs are they ?" asked Lapstone.
" Newfoundland," replied Orkney.
" That's just the kind I should like," said Lapstone. " Where
does the man live ?"
" He lives about ten miles from here," replied Orkney.
"Do you know the way there?" asked Lapstone.
"Yes, sir," said Orkney, "I know it very well. I went out
there the other day to see about some boards."
140
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
The bear and her cubs disappeared. The mate's observation. Open water.
" Never mind about that now," said Top, " but go on with the
story, Uncle Lapstone."
"Well, the bear," said Lapstone, resuming his story, "looked
at us steadily a few minutes, and then turned slowly around and
walked away. The cubs turned too, and went away with her.
The old bear looked back now and then to see whether we were
coming after her; but, as she found we were not, she went on very
steadily and without appearing to be at all in a hurry. After a
while she and the cubs went round behind a row of hummocks,
and disappeared."
" And did you not see any thing more of them ?" asked Mun-
day.
"No," said Lapstone, "we saw them no more.
"As soon as they had gone," continued Lapstone, "the mate
climbed up to the top of the hummock of ice to take a view. He
had a little pocket spy-glass, and with this he took a survey all
around the horizon. He also had a compass; and every now and
then, and while he was on the hummock, he took out his compass
and looked at it. After a while he came down from the hum¬
mock again.
" 'Well, my lads,' says he, ' I can see the open water. It is
to the westward of us, about three or four miles off. If we could
get to that water, we could row to the ship easily in half a day.
But the difficulty is to get there, and, in the mean time, we are
going southward all the time at the rate of two or three knots an
hour.'"
" How was that ?" asked Munday.
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
141
Drifting on the ice. The mate rigged the boat to be pulled over the ice. Broken places.
"Why, by the drift of the ice," replied Lapstone. "You see
we were on a floe which formed part of a great pack that was all
in motion. The whole body of it was drifting fast to the south¬
ward, away from the ship. The only hope for us was, therefore,
to get off the ice as soon as we could.
" 'It is hard work, my lads,' says the mate, 'to run this boat
three or four miles over such rough ice as this; but we have not
any. choice. That is what we have got to do, and nothing else;
and so, if you have got through breakfast, we will begin.'
"So we began to get ready with the boat. We cut the boat-
hook in two, to make a couple of handspikes, and these we lashed
across the boat's painter to make handles to pull by. The mate
stationed four men at these handles, one on each side of each hand¬
spike. The rest of us he placed alongside the boat to keep her
steady on her keel, and to help push her along. So we began our
march."
" Could you get along pretty well?" asked Munday.
"Yes," said Lapstone; " where the ice was smooth, we got along
very well; but often we came to places where it was rough and
broken. In some places it had been ground up by the motion of
the floes into such small pieces that we could not walk on them."
" And what did you do then ?" asked Top.
" We had to make a circuit to get round such places as these,"
said Lapstone. " Then there were other places where the water
was very open."
"And you had to go round those places too,I suppose," said
Munday.
142
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
The sailing iceberg. Was the iceberg moving or the floe.
"No," said Lapstone, "not unless they were very small, so •
that it was quite easy to go round them. If they were large, or
if they were narrow and long, and lay across our path, we launch¬
ed the "boat into the water, and rowed over them as we would
have crossed a river by a ferry. In this way we went on for
about three hours, when at last we reached a place where an ice¬
berg was coming through the floe, tearing and grinding its way
through the ice, and carrying all before it. We stopped to look
at it. It was very grand."
" It must have been very grand indeed," said Orkney.
"Yes," rejoined Lapstone. "It looked precisely as if the flat
ice which we were upon was still, and as if the iceberg was sail¬
ing slowly through it, plowing its way as it moved along. It left
a long wake of open water behind it, like a ship in full sail. And
yet the mate told us that he thought the iceberg was aground, and
was not moving at all."
" Then it was only the floe that was moving," said Orkney.
" So the mate thought," replied Lapstone; " but that was not
certain. You see, a floe lies flat on the surface of the water, and
is driven this way and that by the wind. The icebergs, on the
other hand, reach down to a great depth, sometimes hundreds of
fathoms, and so they are carried along by the deep-sea currents.
Now it sometimes happens that these currents carry the icebergs
along at the rate of two or thrgfe miles an hour, which is as fast as
a man can walk, while the floe, lying all the time on the surface,
is still. In that case the iceberg goes plowing through the floe at
a terrible rate, heaping up the ice before it to a great height, and
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
143
The whalemen watching the plowing iceberg. They could not tell the time.
leaving a broad wake behind. At other times the iceberg is
grounded on the bottom, and lies still, while the floe, or field-ice,
sweeps all the time past it. In this case the field-ice plows itself
up by running against the iceberg, and also makes -a wake on the
farther side just as in the other case; so that when we come
across an iceberg plowing through a floe in this manner, it is not
always easy to tell which is in rest and which is in motion.-
Sometimes both are in motion; the floe, going by the wind, one
way, and the iceberg, by the current, in the other. In any case, it
is a very grand spectacle."
" I should like to see it," said Orkney.
" Yes," replied Lapstone, " you would like to see it very much.
We all stopped a few minutes to see this one when we passed by.
The mate said it would not do any harm for us to have a little
rest.
" 'The thing makes something of a roaring,' says the mate;
' but, after all, big as it is, I'd rather see an iceberg coming at us
than that she-bear. And now, my lads, on with the boat again.'
" So we all took hold of the boat and pushed on.
"We supposed that it was now about noon, but we could not
tell certainly, for it had become overcast, and we could not see the
sun."
" Did not any of you have a watch ?" asked Munday.
" No," replied Lapstone, " there was not a watch in the party.
The mate had a compass and a spy-glass, but no watch. The
truth is, that people scarcely use watches at all on board ship.
When we are changing our longitude all the time, a watch is of
144
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
Why seamen want London time. Dinner. Open water in sight.
very little use. You have to alter it every day. The ship car¬
ries chronometers, it is true, but that is only to keep London
time."
"What do you want of London time?" asked Munday.
"To find out the longitude," replied Lapstone.
" I don't see how they can find out the longitude Tby knowing
the London time," rejoined Munday.
" I don't know exactly how they do it," replied Lapstone, " he-
cause, you see, I went off from school pretty young, and I never
studied navigation. But this you can see: if the captain of a
ship finds that it is just midnight where his ship is when he sees
by the chronometer that it is just noon at London, then he knows
that he is just half round the globe from London; and so in pro¬
portion for any other difference of time."
" Well, Uncle Lapstone," said Top, "go on with the story."
"We did not know at all what o'clock it was," said Lapstone,
resuming his narrative, " but after a time we began to be hungry,
and so the mate ordered us to stop and have dinner. We rested
three quarters of an hour at dinner-time, as near as we could guess.
Then we went on.
"We went on for about two hours more, and then we found
that we were drawing toward the margin of the floe. We could
see the open water, about half a mile before tis, through the open¬
ings in the hummocks. This encouraged us to go on.
" 'As soon as we get to open water,' said the mate, 4we shall
be all right. You can row by turns, and in six hours I'll engage
we'll come in sight of the ship. We can't have drifted to the
EXCUESION ON THE ICE.
145
The mate's calculations. An unexpected result. Good luck.
southward more than twenty or thirty miles, and we will go "back
that distance in six hours.'
" 'Provided the old ship stays where she was,' says one of the
men.
" ' She will,' says the mate; 'unless, indeed, she stands to the
southward in hopes to meet us, for the captain will know which
way we must have been carried by the ice.'
"In a short time longer," continued Lapstone, "we arrived at
the margin of the ice, and that is about the end of my story."
" The end of it ?" exclaimed the boys.
" Yes," said Lapstone, " the end of all the interesting part of it
—that is, of all the misfortunes and mishaps. You see there was
a range of hummocks all along the margin of the floe, so that we
could not see much over the water until we came close to the edge
of it. We hauled the boat through the gap in this line of hum¬
mocks, and there, the moment that we got a view of the water, we
saw our ship within half a mile, with the whale alongside of her,
and the whole crew at work stripping off the blubber."
"Was not that lucky?" exclaimed Munday. "What did the
mate say when he saw it ?"
"Nothing," replied Lapstone; "he took it as coolly as he had
taken every thing else. As soon as the boat was launched, he
said, ' Now, my lads, get aboard, and we'll pull alongside the ship.
And there is the sun coming out too,' says he; for just then the
sun began to break through the clouds. ' Now I can tell you
about what time of night it is.'
"So he took out his compass and took the bearing of the sun.
29 K
146
EXCURSION ON THE ICE.
The end of Lapstone's story of adventures in the Polar seas.
" 'North by west,' says he ; ' very near midnight.'
" It was near midnight. So it appeared that we had been gone
away from the ship just twenty-four hours."
This finished the story of the adventure of the Aldebaran's boat,
though, after Lapstone came thus to the conclusion of it, the boys
asked him a great many questions about whales, and polar bears,
and seals, and walruses, and a great many other animals that fre¬
quent the Arctic seas. Lapstone entertained them with accounts
of these animals, and stories of the encounters that he had had
with them, until they all admitted that they had been fully paid
for the work that they had done in shoveling the paths.
whitefoot and ring.
147
More about Orkney's plan for getting a dog.
CHAPTER X.
whitefoot and ring.
Lapstone did not forget his plan of getting a Newfoundland
dog to come and live with him, though he was prevented from car¬
rying the plan into effect as soon as he had intended. He meant,
at the time he first spoke to Orkney on the subject, to have gone
or sent immediately; hut, soon after the great snow-storm, there
came a thaw, and then, soon after the thaw, there followed a hard
frost, which made it very rough and slippery. Then there came
a long period during which the roads were very muddy, and thus
so many weeks passed away that both Lapstone and Orkney con¬
cluded that the pups which Orkney had heard of must have grown
up and been sold or given away.
148
WHITEFOOT AND RING.
The dogs. Lapstone sends for a wagon. The excursion planned.
" However," said Orkney, " I will inquire upon every opportu¬
nity that I get, and when I hear of any more for sale I will let
you know."
Accordingly, one morning in the month of May, Orkney came
to Lapstone's s*hop, and told him that he had heard of a man, a
sort of half farmer and half fisherman, who lived on the sea-coast
about eight miles off, who had some young Newfoundland dogs to
sell. The way in which Orkney happened to hear of them was
through the carpenter at whose house he lived. This carpenter
had a great deal of business in all the surrounding* country, and
he often went away from home to do work in the neighboring
towns and villages. So, when Orkney told him that Lapstone
wished to buy a young Newfoundland dog, he undertook to make
inquiries for him. In his inquiries he had heard of these, and
told Orkney of them.
When Lapstone heard Orkney's report he was much pleased.
" I'll go immediately," said he, " and secure one of them, before
they are gone. Can you get a wagon for me ?"
"Yes, sir," said Orkney; " Top's father has got a wagon that
you can hire."
" Go and see if you can hire it," said Lapstone; " and get Top
to go too. I want you to go to drive the wagon, and Top to bring
the dog home. We can all three go. Top can have a seat be¬
hind, and take care of the dog, if we get one."
So Orkney went to Top's father to inquire about the wagon.
He found that he could have it at any time. So it was all ar¬
ranged that they were to have the wagon the next Saturday after-
WHITEFOOT AND KING.
149
"Why Lapstone did not carry a basket to bring the dog home in.
noon. Top was to go too. His father said, when the arrange¬
ment was made, that he should like to have a Newfoundland dog
himself to keep watch in his stable.
" But I suppose the man will ask a dollar or more for one of
them," he added, " and I can't very well afford to pay so much."
When the time arrived, Orkney went for the wagon, and he and
Top harnessed the horse into it. Then they drove to Lapstone's
door. ' Lapstone was all ready in his shop waiting for them. He
had a basket to bring the dog home in. There was a cloth and a
string in the basket, which were to be used to fasten the dog in.
"After all," said Lapstone, just before he got into the wagon,
" I won't take any basket. If the little fellow is not willing to
come with me of his own accord, he need not come. I won't bring
him against his will."
So Lapstone put the basket away, and got into the wagon with¬
out it.
It was a very pleasant afternoon, and the party had a charm¬
ing ride. The road led along the sea-shore, and for a consider¬
able part of the way it followed a high bank overlooking the wa¬
ter. The boys could see the ships and steamers passing to and
fro along the coast, and here and there they came to little hamlets
of fishermen's houses close to the water, with the fishing-boats
drawn up before them on the beach.
At length they reached the place where the man lived who had
the dogs. The name of the man was Damrell. As soon as they
arrived in the neighborhood where Mr. Damrell lived, they in¬
quired for his house, and were directed to a small dwelling which
150
WHITEFOOT AND KING.
Mr. Damrell's house. The boat. Dolphin and her master.
stood in a very pleasant situation, not far from the sea-sliore, at
a place where there was a little creek or inlet from the sea, which
formed quite a pretty little harbor. There was a small wharf on
the shore of this harbor, not far from the house, and a sail-boat
moored to it. The sail-boat was Mr. Damrell's fishing-boat.
The house was small, but it was very pretty, and there was
quite a nice little garden on one side of it. Mr. Damrell was at
work in this garden when the wagon drove up to the gate. »
" I heard that you had some young Newfoundland dogs to sell,"
said Lapstone, addressing Mr. Damrell.
Mr. Damrell' straightened himself up from his work, and sur¬
veyed Lapstone with a very scrutinizing look.
" I have got a couple of little Newfoundland cubs," said he,
"but it is not every body that I am willing to sell them to."
" Hm!" said Lapstone. " I like that. That's a sign that they
come of good breed. I don't think you'd say that of them un¬
less you thought considerable of their mother."
"I do think considerable of their mother," said Mr. Damrell.
" Here, Dolphin!"
He called out the name Dolphin in a loud voice, and immedi¬
ately a large and very beautiful Newfoundland dog came bound¬
ing round the corner of the house in answer to the summons.
She came up at once to her master, and after looking up into his
face a moment, and finding that he had no commands for her, she
turned toward the strangers in the wagon, and looked upon them
with a countenance of a calm and quiet dignity that was quite im¬
pressive.
WHITEFOOT AND RING.
151
Mr. Damrell recognizes Lapstone by his wooden leg.
" That's the mother of the culbs I have," said Mr. Damrell,
quietly; and, so saying, he went on raking the bed that he was
making.
" She's the right kind, Orkney," said Lapstone. " Let's get out
of the wagon."
So Orkney and Top descended from the wagon, and, while Top
held the horse, Orkney helped Lapstone to get out. As he did
so, Mr. Damrell, looking up, observed that the stranger had a
wooden leg.
'"Is your name Lapstone?" said he.
" That's what they call me," said Lapstone.
The man laid down his rake, and walked out through his gate,
and, advancing to Lapstone, gave him his hand.
" I'm glad to see you, sir," said he. " I've heard of you before.
I've often been to your village in my boat, and I've heard of an
old sailor there of that name. And if all I've heard of you is
true—and I suppose it is so—there'll be no difficulty in our trad¬
ing for one of my little Bobbies. However," he continued, " it
will depend more, after all, upon what Dolphin thinks of you.
If she likes you, I shall be pretty sure to like you too."
Dolphin had followed her master through the garden gate, and,
while he was speaking, she seemed to be occupied in looking
earnestly at the three strangers, and in smelling of their feet and
knees.
For a moment she looked a little puzzled, not knowing exactly
what to make of Lapstone's wooden leg; but presently she seem¬
ed to be satisfied; and she stood quietly by Lapstone's side, and
152
WHITEFOOT AND KING.
Mr. Damrell exhibits the sagacity and good training of Dolphin.
»— •
allowed him to pat her head, while her attitude and her counte¬
nance expressed confidence and good-will.
" She thinks well of you, shipmate," said Mr. Damrell; "and
it is well she does; for, if she had not, it would have been very
hard for you to get away one of her young ones; though, for
that matter, she is not too fond of them now. They are well
weaned, and she expects them, after this, to take care of them¬
selves. She is too sensible a dog not to know that nature never
intended that a mother and her children should always live to¬
gether.
" However," continued Mr. Damrell, " since you ask about the
breed, I'll let you see a little what sort of a dog Dolphin is."
So saying, he turned to Dolphin, and said, in a quiet tone,
" Take care of the horse, Dolphin."
Dolphin immediately sprang to the head of the horse, and stood
there, looking up into his face with a very resolute but a very
calm and quiet air, and in an attitude which showed that she was
ready to seize the reins on the least indication of an attempt on
his part to go away. The horse looked at Dolphin too, but he
seemed not to be at all disturbed. Indeed, like every body else,
he appeared to regard the dog as his friend and protector, and not
as an enemy.
" Take him to the post, Dolphin," said Mr. Damrell, quickly.
Dolphin immediately reached up and took hold of the horse's
bridle. She was so large and tall that she could do this very
easily. She then immediately began to lead the horse along to¬
ward a post Which stood in the corner of the yard. The horse
WHITEFOOT AND KING.
153
Dolphin waits for instructions. The dog goes to the house for the boat keys.
yielded at once, and allowed himself to be led. As soon as they
reached the post, Dolphin stopped, and looked toward her master
as if awaiting further orders.
"Now, my boy," said Mr. Damrell, turning to Orkney, " fasten
the horse, and then we shall be at liberty."
Dolphin stood by, watching carefully until she saw that the
horse was secured. She then seemed to feel released from that
duty, and turned toward her master again.
"Dolphin," said Mr. Damrell, "I am going—"
Mr. Damrell spoke these words very deliberately, and then
paused and hesitated, as if he had not quite decided where he was
going. Dolphin looked very intently into her master's face, and
wagged her tail. She was awaiting the conclusion of the sentence.
" To take a sail in the boat," said Mr. Damrell. " Go and get
the keys."
The moment that Dolphin heard the word boat she seemed wild
with delight. She leaped about joyously, and by the time that
Mr. Damrell had finished the sentence, she was bounding away to¬
ward a back door of the house. In a moment more she was seen
coming out from the door with two keys attached to a wooden la¬
bel in her mouth. With these she ran eagerly down to the wa¬
ter. Mr. Damrell and his party of visitors followed.
The boat was fastened to the wharf by a chain and padlock.
There was also a painter, made of rope, with a loop in the outer
end of it. This loop passed over the top of a short post on the
corner of the wharf, so that the boat was thus held by a double
fastening.
154
WHITEFOOT AND KING.
Dolphin on the wharf casting off. The party in the sail-boat.
Dolphin dropped the keys near the padlock, and then, while
Mr. Damrell was unlocking the lock, she took her place by the
post where the loop of the painter passed over it. Mr. Damrell
then invited his visitors to get into the boat, and he followed them
in. He gave Lapstone an honorable seat near the stern.
The boat was small, but it had a mast and a sail. Mr. Dam¬
rell began undoing the sail. Dolphin all the time remained by
the line.
" Shall I go ashore, sir," said Orkney, "to cast off?"
"No," replied Mr. Damrell, "Dolphin will cast off; but you
may stand by to take the painter in."
Accordingly, as soon as Mr. Damrell had got the sails untied
and was ready to go, he said, " Cast off, Dolphin!"
Dolphin immediately took the loop of the painter up in her
mouth, lifted it over the post, and let it fall alongside of the boat.
Orkney, who, In the mean time, had stationed himself at the bows,
drew it in, and coiled it up neatly.
As soon as Dolphin had cast off the line, she leaped on board
the boat herself, and came and took her station near the helm,
close by her master's usual seat.
Mr. Damrell, after setting his sail, came to the stern and took
the helm. There was a gentle breeze blowing; the sail filled,
and the boat began slowly to move away from the wharf.
All this time Mr. Damrell seemed to pay no attention to Dol¬
phin, but went on talking with Lapstone about the town where
Lapstone lived, and the voyages that he had made in former years,
and the different ports which he had visited when he was a sea-
whitefoot and ring.
155
Making acquaintance with Dolphin. Dolphin takes the helm. "Steady."
faring man. While this conversation was pending, Dolphin came
to Lapstone's side again, and after smelling his knees and looking
up earnestly in his face a while, she laid her chin on his sound
knee in quite an affectionate manner.
" She thinks you are the right sort of man," said Mr. Damrell;
"that is very plain."
Dolphin seemed also to take quite a fancy both to Orkney and
Top. She came occasionally toward the part of the boat where
they were, and allowed them to pat her head and caress her in
other ways. Indeed, she not only allowed these freedoms, but she
seemed to be quite pleased with them. The boys thought she
was a dog of a remarkably excellent disposition.
At length the boat began to draw near to the shore of a creek
on one side, and Mr. Damrell said,'
" Come, Dolphin, I think we'll go about."
So Dolphin came to the stern again. Mr. Damrell put the helm
hard down, and gave the tiller to Dolphin to holcL—
" Keep her about so," said he.
Dolphin put her paws upon the tiller, and held it in the posi¬
tion in which her master had placed it, while Mr. Damrell himself
went forward to attend to the sail.
As soon as the sail had filled, and the boat began to fall off on
the other tack, Mr. Damrell called out, " Steady I" when Dolphin
immediately relaxed her pressure upon the tiller, and allowed it to
swing back amidships again.
" A man-o'-war's-man could not have done it better," said Lap-
stone.
156
WHITEFOOT AND RINGL
Disembarking. Mr. Damrell offers to sell the dogs. The barn.
The party sailed about in this way for some time, and Lapstone
and the boys, the more they saw, the more they were pleased with
the sagacity and intelligence that Dolphin manifested. At length
the boat returned to the wharf.
" Bear a hand, Dolphin," said Mr. Damrell, "to go ashore with
the painter."
So Dolphin took her station on the bows of the boat with the
end of the painter in her mouth. As soon as the bows were near
enough to the wharf, she leaped ashore, and there held on firmly,
while Mr. Damrell took in the sail and made ready to land. When
all was ready, the whole party disembarked; and Mr. Damrell, aft¬
er locking the boat, gave Dolphin the keys, and they all proceed¬
ed toward the house. Dolphin ran before with the keys in her
mouth.
" I've made up my mind," said Mr. Damrell, " that if you like
my dogs when you come to see them, you may have either or both
of them. The price is a dollar and a half apiece."
" Yery well," said Lapstone; " where are they ? I want to see
them."
" They are in my barn," said Mr. Damrell. " They are getting
big enough to go out by themselves, and I let them out sometimes,
but they are shut up now."
So saying, Mr. Damrell led the way to a small barn which stood
in the back part of his premises, and opened the door, which was
fastened by a hasp and a fid. On entering the barn, the two
young dogs came running to meet their master, and they leaped
and capered about him with many expressions of joy. Dolphin,
WHITEFOOT AND RING.
157
Whitefoot and Ring. Which is the prettiest? Lapstone's way of choosing a dog.
too, seemed very much pleased to see them again, and they to see
Dolphin. But the chief attention of the dogs was, after all, given
to their human visitors, for they had reached an age when nature
prompted them to seek and love the companionship of man even
more than that of their mother.
One of the dogs was perfectly black, except a white ring about
his neck. The other had both fore feet white.
"Are they named?" asked Orkney.
"No," replied Mr. Damrell, "they are not regularly named.
Our folks call them Whitefoot and Ring, just to distinguish them,
but you can name them any thing you please. Which of them
do you like the best ?"
"Ithink Whitefoot is rather the prettiest," said Top.
"They are both very pretty," said Orkney.
"Yes," added Lapstone, "there is very little choice between
them. I think that instead of choosing one of them myself, I
shall see which of them will prefer me."
" That's a good plan," said Orkney.
Accordingly, after playing with the dogs a little while, so as to
get them both somewhat acquainted with him, Lapstone put them
both down in one of the stalls, and went himself to a little dis¬
tance from them across the floor.
"Now, boys," said he, "do you go off to one side, out of the
way. I'm going to call the dogs to me. The one that gets to me
first is the one that I will have."
So the boys went off to one side, and Lapstone called the dogs
to come to him. They immediately came out of the stall, and be-
158
WHITEFOOT AND RING.
Lapstone's choice. Top wanted a dog too. Why Orkney did not.
gan rambling about in a somewhat uncertain manner for a few
minutes, approaching gradually, however, all the time, toward Lap-
stone. At length Whitefoot, catching a glimpse of the two boys
at the door, ran off toward them, while Ring ran directly to Lap-
stone.
Lapstone caught him up in his arms, saying, " This is my dog.
It is all settled."
Top caught up Whitefoot also, saying, at the same time,
"And this is my dog. Now, Uncle Lapstone, I wish you would
buy this one too, for me, and I'll work for you in your garden all
summer, till you say I've done enough to pay for him."
"Ah! but how do I know that your father would be willing
that you should have a dog," said Lapstone. " Perhaps he would
not like to have him at the house."
"Why, he said that he should like one very much," replied Top,
"only he could not afford to buy one."
"Well, but then there is another difficulty," continued Lap¬
stone. " There's Orkney. If either of you is to have the dog, it
ought to be Orkney, for he is the oldest."
"No, sir," said Orkney, "I don't ore about having him my¬
self, for I am thinking a little of going away to school. If you
could buy him for Top, I should like it very much. I could have
an interest in him, and Top lives so near our house that that will
do just as well."
" Very well," said Lapstone; " then it is all settled. We will
take both the dogs."
So Lapstone paid Mr. Damrell the three dollars, and they took
WHITEFOOT AND RING.
159
Going home. The education of Whitefoofc and Ring. The dog cart.
■ ■ — ,
both the dogs and carried them home in the wagon. Top sat be¬
hind and carried Whitefoot, while Lapstone took Ring in his arms
upon the seat in front.
After this, Lapstone continued to live in peace and prosperity a
long time in his house in the village, and he told the boys a great
many stories which there is not space for in this volume. The
dog grew fapt, and in process of time he became very large. He
grew to be a very beautiful dog too, and as he was very intelligent
and sagacious, Lapstone taught him a great variety of curious
things. Top's dog, too, grew up to be as fine an animal as Lap-
stone's. When they had got their growth, among other things,
Lapstone taught them both to draw in harness.
He made a very handsome double harness for them of leather,
and Orkney made a very neat and pretty wagon in the carpenter's
shop. The wagon was of good size too, and was very strong.
The dogs could draw this wagon about the village, with two boys
in it, very easily, and an excellent span they made.*
The house where Top lived was next to Orkney's, and the back
yards communicated together by means of a little gate. Orkney
made a very nicje kennel for this dog near this gate, and thus,
whichever of the boys called him, he was sure to come. Only at
night he slept usually in the stable to keep watch.
In process of time Orkney went away to school. This was his
own plan. After, he had been thinking of it some time, he one
day proposed it to the carpenter.
* See Frontispiece.
160
WHITEFOOT AND KING.
Orkney proposes to go to school. How he came out.
" I think, sir," said he, " if you are willing, that it would be a
good plan for me to go away somewhere to school for a year, in
order to study mathematics, before I begin to work*in the shop.
I can learn drawing, too, at the same time. In this way I can be
of more service to you, because then I can draw your plans and
make your calculations, and so help a great deal more than if I
merely learn to plane and saw, and do such things as that."
" That's a fact," said the carpenter.
" If you will send me to school," continued Orkney, " I will be
diligent and steady, and learn all I can."
" I have no doubt of it," said the carpenter, " and I think it is
an excellent plan. I could extend my business a great deal, and
make it a great deal more profitable, if I had somebody at hand to
do that kind of work, and you are just the fellow to learn to do it."
So Orkney was sent to school, and he made so much improve¬
ment there, that, at the end of the year, his master sent him to
New York for six months to study architecture and civil engineer¬
ing. There is now every prospect that he will become quite an
eminent man. Indeed, Lapstone begins to feel very proud of him.
THE END,
THOMAS AND UJOIIiLA.
A SERIES OF NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, BIOGRAPHIES, AND TALES,
FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT
OF THE YOUNG.
BY
M©©® ^IB(B©TTa
(fmtellisljrii mxtjj
NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-four, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-seven, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.
PREFACE,
Orkney was a peacemaker. When disputes arose among the
boys at the school where he went, as related in the Story Book
called " Lapstone," to study mathematics, in order that he might
Tbe a scientific architect as well as a good practical carpenter, he
always did all that he could to settle them in an amicable manner*
There are many boys in every school who dislike quarreling,
and who would be glad to use their influence to promote peace and
harmony among their playmates, if they knew how. This volume
is intended to throw some light on that subject, and I hope that
a great many of the readers of it may feel inclined to follow the
example which Orkney sets them in the narratives contained in
its j)ages.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE LOST BALL 13
IX. THE TEASIN1 BROTHER 36
III. THE WHEELBARROW CASE 67
IV. ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN 87
V. PLAYING CAT AND DOG HI
VI. THE KITE PAPER 125
VII. BOASTING 146
ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
thomas and luc ill a Frontispiece.
ball found 33
the bouquet 64
give me back my kite 76
wrong end foremost 107
not plating cat and dog 123
the great black hole 356
ORKNEY.
I.
THE LOST BALL.
PERSONS.
Orkney. I Edward.
Top. j Aleck.
Scene I.
Orkney alone. Afterward Top and Edward.
A large garden attached to a school in the country. Orkney is seen walking
alone with a slate under his arm. A large gray cat asleep on a seat under
the trellis.
Orkney. I don't suppose that learning to draw animals, and
trees, and boys, and such things, will help me very much in being
an architect; but it may be of some use to me. At any rate, I
should like to know how to draw 'em. . {He spies the cat on the
seat.) Ah! here's Tom Grey! I'll draw Tom Grey. He is
asleep on the bench, so I suppose he will keep still. If he had
been awake, I should have found it very difficult to have made
him pose for me. That's what they call it—-posing. What a
word! (He laughs.) I expect it will pose me, prodigiously, to
draw Tom Grey. Then we shall both be in a pose. Let me see.
Where shall I sit ? Ah! here is a good place!
[He sits down upon another bench at a little distance from
the cat.
14
the lost ball.
Orkney drawing a picture of T^m Grey in the garden. Entrance of Top and Edwurd.
Now, pussy, lie still. Don't wake up. Keep your pose till I
have finished drawing you. \_He begins to draw.
I am glad that Top has come to this school. What good times
Top and I used to have together at home, playing about the yards!
And that little door leading from his yard into mine! I like to
draw upon paper with a lead pencil better than upon a slate. But
it is just as well to learn upon a slate. That does not cost any
thing, but good drawing-paper costs a great deal. Besides, my
slate is easier to carry about when I go out into the fields and
gardens.
This is a side view of Tom Grey that I get here. After I have
drawn him once or twice, I'll go round to the apjSle-tree, and there
I can get a front view—provided, indeed, that before that time he
does not wake up and go away. Hark! I hear voices!
[ Voices are heard at a distance.
Some of the boys are coming. Top is one of them. I can hear
his voice.
Enter Top and Edward.
Top. Halloo, Orkney! Here you are! We have been looking
for you. We want you to go and play ball with us.
OrTcney. Speak low, boys, or you'll wake up Tom Grey.
Top. What about Tom Grey ? Where is he ? Oh ! there he
is, asleep on the bench.
Orkney. Yes ; he imposing for me. I am drawing him.
Top. Posing ! oh Orkney! posing ! He is only asleep ; and
if he knew that you were drawing him, he'd be off in a jiff—as
THE LOST BALL.
15
The bargain between the boy who wanted to draw and the boys who wanted to play.
quick as if he saw a dog coming after him. Come! leave him to
sleep in peace, and go and play ball with us.
Edward. Yes, Orkney, do.
Orkney. Where are you going ?
Top. Down in the field beyond the garden. Aleck Jones is
coming down, and you, with us two, will just make the set.
Orkney. But I want to draw.
Edward. Oh, let the drawing go. You can draw enough rainy
days. We ought not to lose such a fine day as this for playing
ball.
Orkney. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make a bargain with
you. I'll go and play ball with you an hour, if you will pose for
me afterward ten minutes, so that I can draw you.
Top (laughing). Pose! Oh Orkney! pose! What a learned
artist you are! Well, we'll pose. But how shall we do it ? Shall
we lie down on a bench and go to sleep like the cat ?
Orkney. No, I shall want you to pose in a different attitude
from that. I'll tell you how when the time comes. How soon is
Aleck Jones coming out ?
Edward. Yery soon. He says he'll be on the ground in ten
minutes.
Orkney. Well, I'll be there in ten minutes too. I'll stay and
finish Tom Grey. In the mean time, you and Top can be play¬
ing drive.
Edward. Yes, Top, so we can. Come I we'll go and play
drive.
16 the lost ball.
How Top made his ball. Lapstone covered it for liim.
Scene II.
Edward, Top. Afterward Aleck.
Afield. Edward and Top standing on the ground with balls and bats in their
hands. Two or three large trees near.
Edward. This is a nice ball of yours, Top—a very nice ball.
How came you by it ?
Top. Why, I made the inside of it by unraveling an old stock¬
ing.
Edward. One old stocking ?
Top. Yes; one.
Edward. But one stocking is not enough to make such a large
ball as this.
Top. Ah! but I put something in the middle to wind upon, so
as to make the ball elastic. I found an old India-rubber shoe,
and I put it away on a shelf in the barn till the time should come
when I wanted to make a ball. Then I cut it up, and rolled the
pieces together, and wound the yarn round it. So that not only
saved a great deal of yarn, but it made my ball bound better.
See! [He bounds the ball.
Edward. It bounds very well indeed. (Edward takes the ball
and examines it.) Who covered it for you ?
Top. A man named Lapstone.
Edward. Is he a saddler ?
Top. No, he is a kind of a shoemaker. He used to be a sailor,
but now he is a shoemaker.
THE LOST BALL.
17
Edward and Top trying their balls. Generous rivalry.
Edward. How much did he charge you for covering that ball ?
Top. Oh, I paid him in work. You see, we boys used to work
in his garden, and then he would pay us by covering our balls
and telling us stories.
Edward. My I I wish there was a shoemaker like that in
these parts. I had to pay twenty-five cents to have that ball of
mine covered—right out of my pocket-money. See!
Top (taking Edward's ball). Yours is an excellent ball too.
Let me knock it and see how it goes.
Edward. Well, and I'll knock yours.
Top. Good! You begin. We'll see who will knock the high¬
est. If you knock the highest, I can pretend that it is because
mine is the best ball, and you can pretend it is because you are
the best knocker ; but if I knock the highest, I can say it is be¬
cause I am the best knocker, and you can say it is because yours
is the best ball, so that either way we can both have a triumph.
Edward. So we can. But then there's a better way. If the
ball that I knock goes the highest, you can say it is because I
knocked so well, and I can say No, you knocked as well as I, but
I had such an excellent ball; and if yours goes the highest, you
can say the same; so, instead of both claiming the triumph, we
can each give it to the other. That will be more generous.
Top. Yes, that will be much the best way.
Edward. Now I'll knock.
\_IIe knocks the ball. It goes up very high, and then falls
down again upon the ground near a large tree, not far from
where the boys are standing.
18
THE LOST BALL.
Knocking the balls. The ball lost. Searching.
Top. Good! That went up very high. I don't believe I can
heat that.
Edward. Try. Who knows ?
Top. Well, I'll try.
[He knocks Edward's ball. It goes up, like the other, to a
great height, and in falling comes down through one of the
great trees.
Edward. You heat, Top. Yours went the highest.
Top. No, I don't believe it did. It went just above the top of
that tree, and then came down through it. I'll go and get it. It
must be right under the tree.
[The boys go together to the tree, but can not find the ball.
Top. Where can it be ?
Edward. It is very strange.
Top. I saw it come down into the tree.
Edward. Yes ; and I heard it afterward fall through the tree
and branches.
Top. We shall find it here somewhere, I am sure, if we look
about carefully.
Edward. If it is lost, I don't know what I shall do.
Top. It can't be lost. It can't possibly be lost. It must be
somewhere about here.
Edward. Why, it may have gone down into some hole in the
ground, or else have rolled off into the brook. See!
[He points to the brook, the banks of which are seen at some
distance from the tree.
Top. But I don't think it could possibly go so far as that.
THE LOST BALL.
19
Edward and Top looking in the brook for the lost ball.
We will look about here. We shall find it very soon, I am
sure.
[ They continue to look all about the place, but do not find the
ball.
Edward. Let us go and look in the brook. Perhaps it has
fallen in there, and is sailing away.
Tojp. Oh no! it could not have gone so far as to the,brook;
but, nevertheless, we will go and see. We had better go quick, so
as to catch it before it sails away.
Edward. Yes. Tou see, if it had struck upon the ground
about here, it would have rolled off into the water.
\_The boys go to the brook.
Top. I don't see it any where; but I see some fishes. Look!
Edward, look! what a school of little fishes 1 There's one that's
pretty big.
Edward. I don't care any thing about the little fishes. I want
to find my ball.
Top. Well, we'll try to find it. I'm looking all the time.
\_The boys walk back toward the tree, examining the ground
attentively all the way.
Edward (looking up into the tfee). Is not it possible that it
may have got lodged among the branches ?
Top. Oh no I that is not possible. If it had been a cap it
might have got lodged; but a ball could not get lodged unless
there was some holloAV place in the tree, and there is not any such
place in this tree. You see the branches are all smooth and round
from the top to the bottom.
20
the lost ball.
The bird's nest. Do "birds return to old nests ? Aleck enters.
Edward. Look up into the tree. What is that away up high
—that black thing ?
Top. Oh, it is not any thing.
Edward. Yes, I see something. It is a small, round, "black
thing. It is a bird's nest.
Top. Ah! yes, I see it now. It is a bird's nest. I wonder
if there are any birds or eggs in it ?
Edward. No; it is an old nest. It was there last year. I re¬
member it. We used to climb up and see it.
Top. But it may be a bird's nest this year too.
Edward. Oh no. Birds always build new nests. They don't
use their old nests over again.
Top. I tell you they do sometimes.
Edward. I tell you they don't. And this is an old nest. Some
of the boys climbed up to it last summer, and saw the little birds.
But oh dear me! where is my ball ?
Enter Aleck.
Top. Ah! here comes Aleck.
Aleck. Halloo, boys! Here I am! Now for a good game at
ball.
Edward. No, Aleck, we can not play yet. We have lost my
ball, and we can't play till we find it.
Aleck. Why ? Have not you got any other ball ?
Top. Yes, we have. We have, Edward. We have got my
ball; and we might play our game, and find your ball some other
time.
THE LOST BALL.
21
Conversation about the lost ball. Restitution. The boys send for Orkney.
Edward. No, I'd rather find it now. I don't want to play at
all till my bali is found.
Aleck. Who lost the ball ? Top, did you ?
Top. Why, you see, I was knocking it, and it went up over
this big tree, and then it came down through the branches of it,
and now we can't find it any where about. We have looked ev¬
ery where.
Aleck. Well, if you have looked every where, and can't find it,
there's nothing to be done but to give it up; so let us go to play
with the other ball. Only I think you ought to give Ned your
ball, since you have lost his.
Top. Do you ?
Aleck. Yes, certainly. If we lose other people's things, we
ought to pay for them, or else give them ours, which comes to the
same thing. ,
Top. But I believe that we shall find it. I wish Orkney would
come. He can almost always find any thing that is lost; and if
he can't, he can always tell us what to do. I mean to go and
find him, and tell him to come.
Aleck. Oh no!
Edward. Yes, I wish you would go, if you think there is any
chance that he will find it.
Top. I will go.
Edward. Come back again as quick as you can.
Top. I will. * I'll come back directly. And you may keep my
ball till I come back. You can be playing, you know.
Edward. No, we will be looking for the ball.
22
the lost ball.
Top relating the loss of the ball to Orkney.
Scene III.
Orkney, Top.
A stile leading from a garden to afield. Orkney is seated on the stile finish¬
ing a drawing on his slate. Top comes and looks over him.
Top. Come, Orkney, have not you- got your drawing almost
done ? We are tired of waiting for you. Besides, we have lost
one of our balls, and we want you to help us find it. It is the
strangest thing in the world what has become of it.
Orkney. I'll help you find it. I've only got a very little more
to do to my drawing, and then I'll eome.
Top. I don't believe we can find the ball. In fact, we've look¬
ed every where already. And Aleck says he thinks I ought to
give Edward my ball to pay for losing his. Do you think I
ought to ?
Orkney. Is it his ball that is lost ?
Top. Yes.
Orkney. And did you lose it ?
Top. Why, I knocked it, and now we can't find it any where.
Orkney. Were you playing with it together, or did you borrow
his ball of him to play with it yourself alone ?
Top. Why ? would that make any difference ?
Orkney. Yes, I think it would. You see, if you are playing
together with a ball, and the boy who owns it gets an advantage,
as well as you, from using it, then the ball is at his risk—pro¬
vided you play in the usual way and at the usual place. If the
THE LOST BALL.
23
Iiules of risk. When borrowed property is at the borrower's risk.
ball gets lost in the ordinary course of play, and the boy that owns
it is playing too, I should think—though I don't know certainly
—still I should think that it would be at his risk.
Top. I should think so too.
Orkney. But, then, if you borrow a ball to play with yourself,
or with some other boys, and the owner is not playing with you,
and you do not give him any thing for the use of his ball, and he
gets no benefit from it in any way, then I think it ought to be at
your risk. Don't you ?
Top. Why, yes, I think it should.
Orkney. If a man should borrow his neighbor's spade to dig in
his garden with—
Top. His own garden, or his neighbor's garden ?
Orkney. His own garden—and should break the spade, then
he ought to pay for the mending of it.
Top. Yes, I think so too.
Orkney. Because he was using it for his own benefit alone.
Top. Yes.
Orkney. And so, if you lose a ball that you borrowed to play
with yourself alone, in that case you ought to pay for it.
Top. Yes, I think that is fair.
Orkney. Well, how was it ? Did Edward lend you his ball, or
were you playing with it together ?
Top. I will tell you just how it was, and then you shall say.
You see, we were looking at our two balls while we were waiting
for you and Aleck to come; Edward took my ball to look at it,
and I took his. Then we concluded to knock the balls up in the
24
THE LOST BALL.
What Orkney thought about the case. Top's opinion.
air, to see which ball would go highest. I was to knock his "ball
up and he was to knock mine. So he knocked mine first, and,
when it came down, he went and got it and "brought it to me.
Then I knocked his, and we watched it. We watched it when it
went up, and we watched it when it came down. We saw it come
down through the tree; but when we went to look for it under
the tree, it was not there. What became of it I can not conceive.
Orkney. Probably it went beyond the tree.
Top. Ah! but we saw it come down among the leaves and
branches. We heard it rustle the leaves and branches besides.
Orkney. It might have passed through among the leaves and
branches at the top of the tree, and then have gone beyond.
Top. But we looked beyond. We looked all about. We look¬
ed every where, even in the brook. And now do you think I
ought to give him my ball ?
Orkney. It is a very hard question. In one view of it, it must
be considered that you borrowed the ball of him ; for you had it
entirely yourself, and you were going to knock it yourself alone,
to see how high you could make it go, for your own pleasure, and
so it was at your risk. But, then, in another view of it, you were
playing together; for, at the same time that you had his ball, he
had yours, and you were playing one game, as it were, with both.
In that view of the case, both balls were at the risk of the owners
of them. I hardly know which of these is the right view of the
case, the first or the last.
Top. I think that the last is the right view of it. We were
playing together. He had my ball, and I had his.
THE LOST BALL.
25
Difference between the principle of justice and the principle of generosity.
Orkney. It is very difficult to decide. There very often hap¬
pen such cases as that, where a question comes up, and it is very
hard to find out what the exact justice of it is. But then I don't
know as you wish to settle it by justice exactly.
Top. Why, what other way is there of settling it ?
Orkney. "We can settle our disputes on the principles of jus¬
tice or on the principles of generosity.
Top. And which is the best way ?
Orkney. Why, that depends upon different people's fancy.
Some people are very determined to settle all questions between
them and their neighbors according to justice and nothing else.
Their motto is, that they will never do any thing but what is
right, and never submit to any thing that is wrong.
Top. That is a good maxim.
Orkney. Yes, it is certainly very just.
Top. And what is the maxim of the other kind of people ?
Orkney. There is another kind of people in the world, though
there are not a great many of them, whose maxim is to yield
something more than is right, and expect something less, in their
dealings with all mankind.
Top. But it seems to me, Orkney, that that is not fair.
Orkney. Do you mean that it is not just ?
Top. Yes.
Orkney. You are right there. It is not quite just. It is not
meant for justice. It is meant for generosity. You may go
through the world dealing justly with men, or dealing generously
with them, whichever you please.
26
THE LOST BALL.
How would the principle of generosity apply to Edward's case ?
Top. And which do you think is the best way ?
Orkney. Why, that depends upon the fancy of different people,
as I said before. Now there are some boys that would consider
themselves rather fortunate in having lost Edward's ball as you
lost it. They would say to themselves, Here's a chance for me
to perform a generous action. It is doubtful whether I ought to
pay for this ball, but I will pay for it, and then all the boys will
see that it is perfectly safe for them to trust their things to me,
and I shall get a very good character.
Top. It is a very nice thing to have a good character.
Orkney. Yes, it is a very nice thing indeed.
Top. But, Orkney, if I, in order to be generous, ought to be
willing to give Edward my ball, how is it as to him ?
Orkney. Why, as to him, if he meant to be generous he would
not take it.
Top. Then, suppose he was here, and were to ask your advice
as to what he should do, what should you say to him ?
Orliney. I should say that if he wished to settle the question
strictly according to justice, he might perhaps be entitled to claim
that you should give him your ball.
Top. And suppose he wished to be generous ?
Orkney. Then I should advise him not to take your ball.
Top. Then, if we both wished to be generous, I should wish to
give him my ball, and he would not be willing to take it. What
should we do in that case ?
Orkney. There would, in that case, be a question between you
which should allow the other to have the privilege of being gene 1-
the lost ball.
27
Why Orkney did not go with Top. Top returns to the hoys.
ous. Such questions often arise when two generous people deal
with each other, but they never lead to any serious disputes; they
are very easily settled.
Top (after a short pause). Well, Orkney, I think I will give
him my ball. I believe that that is the best way. And I
will go and tell him now. Come! ypu and I will go along to¬
gether.
Orkney. No, it will be better for you to go alone. I'll come
presently. If I go with you, Edward and Aleck might think that
your coming to offer him your ball was my work. They might
think that I urged you to do it, whereas I have not urged you at
all. I have only explained the case to you, and left you to decide
for yourself.
Top. You'll come very soon, won't you ?
Orkney. Yes, in five minutes.
Top. Because we shall want to begin our game of ball.
Scene IY.
Edward, Aleck. Afterward Top and Orkney.
The field. On the right, a large tree. In the middle, smooth ground. A
large and handsome house seen among the trees in the distance, on the left,
with a fence forming the border of a garden. Edward and Aleck standing
near the tree.
Edward. Ah! here comes Top. But why does not he bring
Orkney with him ?
Aleck (calling out). Top, where's Orkney ?
28
the lost ball.
Top's offer. Edward's reply. Orkney comes.
Enter Top.
Top. Orkney is coming pretty soon. He says he will be here
in five minutes. He is just finishing his drawing. He has been
making a drawing of the cat on his slate, and I found him on the
top of the stile, finishing it. But he is coming pretty soon.
Edward. Orkney is always drawing.
Top. You have not found the ball yet ?
Edward. No, we can't find it any where, and we have given
it up.
Top. I'm going to give you mine instead of it.
Edward. No.
Top. Yes, I am. I lost your ball, and it is no more than fair
that I should give you mine; and it will not make any difference
to me. You will let me play with it just as much.
Edward. No, indeed, Top. You were not to blame. We were
playing together, and we both agreed to knock the balls up in the
air in this place. You risked your ball, and I risked mine. It
might just as easily have happened that your ball would have
been lost. Besides, it i?iay be found some time or other.
Tojp. Perhaps Orkney will find it. He almost always finds
things that are lost. And here he comes now.
Enter Orkney.
Orkney. Well, boys, have you lost one of the balls ?
Top. Yes, and we've looked for it every where. There's the
tree. We are sure we saw it fall down through this tree.
THE LOST BALL.
29
Orkney suggests a curious plan for finding the ball.
Orkney (looking up into the tree). It is a pretty tall tree, but
the branches are all smooth and clear. I don't see any place in
the tree where it could get lodged.
Top. No, there is not any place.
Orkney. Then let us look all about on the ground. The way
to find any thing that is lost is to proceed systematically. We'll
mark out a piece of ground so large that the ball could not pos¬
sibly have gone outside of it, and then we will go back and forth
over that regularly. Each of us will take a strip three feet wide
—that will make twelve feet wide for all; and so we will rake
the whole ground, like haymakers making hay.
Edward. Yes, that will be a first-rate plan. We shall be sure
to find it in that way.
Orkney. We will begin here. Now form a line. We will
stand so far apart that we can just touch the tips of our fingers.
[ They form a line on one side of the tree, each boy reaching
out his hands and touching the tips of the fingers of the
boy on each side of him.
Edward. Now we will go slowly.
Orkney. Yes, we must go very slowly indeed, and we must ex¬
amine every inch of the ground, and look into every tuft of grass,
and into every hole, little or big.
\The boys advance in the manner which Orkney had pre¬
scribed till they come to the bank of the brook.
Top. Here's the brook. What shall we do now ?
Orkney. Oh, jump over it and keep on.
Top. But it could not possibly have gone beyond the brook.
30
THE LOST BALL.
The ball is not on the ground. Orkney undertakes to climb the tree.
Orkney. It is not probable that it did, but it is possible ; so
we had better go over and look.
[ The boys jump over the brook and walk carefully on, scru¬
tinizing the whole surface of the ground as they proceed.
After going to a certain distance they stop, and all move to
the left, so as to take a new breadth of land, and then come
back, surveying the ground carefully as before.
Top. That's what I call searching thoroughly.
Edward. Yes, and systematically.
Top. But still we do not find the ball.
Orkney. No, but we have found out one thing, and that is, that
it is not on the ground, under, or any where near, this tree.
\He stands under the tree and looks up.
Is it possible, do you think, that it could have lodged on this
tree ?
Top. No, there is no place. You see, the trunk is all whole,
and the branches are smooth every where from the top to the
bottom.
Orkney. We can't see every where from the top to the bottom.
I've a great mind to go up (looking up into the tree). Can this
tree be climbed ?
Edward. Some of the boys can climb it, but it is very hard to
climb.
Orkney. I'm going to try. Come help me, Edward, till I get
up to where I can take hold of the branches.
\_Edward takes a station close to the tree, with his back in such
a position that Orkney can climb up upon it.
THE LOST BALL.
31
Orkney among the branches. The robin's nest.
Orkney. Now hold firm while I get up.
Edward. Never you fear, I'll hold firm. I'm stiff enough in
the back to hold up two boys like you.
Top {coming near). Rest your hand on my shoulder, Orkney,
and that will help you up.
Orkney (after mounting upon Edwards back). There ! now I
am on your back. If you could just straighten up the least bit, I
could reach the lowest branch. There! I've got hold of it. There!
Now you may go.
Top (Rooking up into the tree). Can you climb it, Orkney ?
Orkney. Oh yes, it is very easy now I have got up among the
branches.
Top. Do you see any place where the ball can be lodged ?
Orkney {going up higher and higher). No, not yet; I'm going
up to the top.
Edward (after a pause). Do you see any thing yet, Orkney ?
Orkney (whose voice sounds more and more remote among the
branches of the tree). No, not yet; only an old bird's nest.
Edward. Yes, it is a robin's nest. There were robins in it
last summer. Don't hurt the nest, and then perhaps the robins
will come and lay in it next year.
Orkney. No, I will not hurt it. I am only going to climb up
and look into it.
Top. Why, do you think the robins have left any of their young
ones there?
Orkney. %I don't know; but I shall soon see, for I am just
there.
32
THE LOST BALL.
A discovery. The lost ball in. the bird's nest. Coming down.
[The boys stand back from the foot of the tree, so as to get a
view of Orkney among the branches near the nest. They
see him climb up to the level of the nest, and then put his
hand in and take something out.
Edward. What is it ?
Orkney. Look!
[He holds out what he had taken from the nest, and the boys
see that it is the ball.
Edward. What is it ? I can't see.
Orkney (holding his hand out farther*). Look sharp!
Top. Hi! yo! Edward, if there is not your ball!
Edward. It is! it is! as sure as I am alive! Who would
have imagined that it could have lodged in that nest ?
Orkney {from-the tree). Look out, boys! Catch!
[He throws the ball down. Tojp, seeing it coming, stands back
out of the way, so as to allow Edward to catch it on the re¬
bound.
Top. There it is, and I am right glad that it is found.
Edward. Did you ever hear of such a thing, Aleck, as a hall's
getting lodged in a bird's nest ?
Aleck. Never; and I don't think that Top could do it again, if
he should try a thousand times.
Top. I don't think that I shall try to do it again at all very
soon.
Edward. No, that is playing cup and ball on rather a tall
scale. But here comes Orkney. Let us go and help him to get
down.
u
THE LOST BALL.
Congratulations. When Orkney learned to climb. Difficulty saved.
Orkney {descendingfrom, the tree). No, I do not need any help
to get down. I can jump down from the lowest branch.
\_I£e jumps down safely to the ground.
Edward. I am sure I am very much obliged to you for taking
so much pains to find my ball.
Top. And I too, because I lost it.
Aleck. And I too, because I am going to play with it. But
was not it very hard climbing that tree, Orkney ?
Orkney. Not very hard. You see, X learned to climb when I
went to sea. The worst tree is not so hard to climb as the top¬
mast of a whaling ship.
Edward. I am so glad to get my ball again, and I am very
much obliged to you, at any rate.
Orkney. It was no trouble to go and find it; on the contrary,
it was a pleasure. It is excellent good fun to climb up into such
a tree as that.
Edward. Well, at any rate, I am glad it is found.
Orkney. So am I, because it saves a difficulty between you
and Top.
Top. Oh no, Orkney, there would not have been any difficulty
at all, for I had decided to give Edward my ball, and had told
him so.
Edward. Yes, so you did ; and, besides that, there would have
been no difficulty, for I told him that I should not take his ball.
I considered it only an accident. We were playing together, and
the ball was at my risk as much as his.
Orkney. True; and there was just the difficulty. The ques-
THE LOST BALL.
35
An opportunity for generosity lost. Chances of danger.
tion was, which should allow the other the privilege of acting a
generous part. As it is, you will both have to wait until the next
opportunity; but I expect you will not have to wait a very great
while.
Aleck. Never mind about that, but let us begin our game of
ball.
Edward. And let us go off a good way from this tree. It will
be safer.
Top. Oh, there is no danger. The ball would not lodge in that
bird's nest once in a thousand times, if we were to throw it up on
purpose. Do you think it would, Orkney ?
Orkney. No, perhaps not once in a million times.
36
the teasing brother.
Lucilla and Jane in the garden. The moss rose
II.
THE TEASING BROTHER.
TEEGONo.
Thomas, 12 years old. \ Edward, a college student.
Albert ) I Jane, Tjucilla. s playmate.
JACK, bis Plates. ! 0ekney.
Lucilla, Thomas's sister. !
Scene I.
Lucilla, Jane. Afterward Thomas, Albert, and Jack.
A garden. Lucilla is seated on a stone bench under the shade of some trees
" working embroidery. Jane is upon a footstool before the bench, and is ar¬
ranging flowers which lie displayed before her on the end of the bench.
Jane. Would you put a rose in the centre of the bouquet, Lu¬
cille?
Lucilla. Yes, I should think that would look very pretty.
Jane. You see I am going to have two bouquets, one for each
side of the mantel-piece, and I have just got two roses, one to be
put in each.
lucilla. Then that will be exactly right.
Jane. I mean two full-blown roses. I have got plenty of buds,
but only two roses that are full blown.
Jjucilla. I am glad you have got some buds. I think the buds
are very beautiful.
Jane. One of my buds is a moss rose bud.
LuciUa. That is the most beautiful of all.
the teasing brother.
Lucilla and Jane hear Thomas approaching. Is it an advantage to have a brother?
Jane. Hark! There are the boys.
[ Voices heard without, as of boys playing horses.
Lucilla. Oh, dear me ! There's Tom. I hope he is not coming
here with his horses.
Jane. Why, would they run over us, do you think V
Tommy {the voice heard without). Whoa! Standstill! There!
Now get up! Go ahead now!
Lucilla. No, I'm not afraid of the horses. It's Tom himself.
He is such a plague!
Jane. Why, Lucilla, I should not think that he would be a
plague. I've wished a great many times that I had a brother.
Lucilla. Then I wish you had mine. I'm sure I should be de¬
lighted to get rid of him.
Jane. Why, Lucilla, I should not think that you would talk so.
I should think that a brother was a great help to a sister, even
if he was younger than she.
Lucilla. He might be—that's true enough—if he was so dis¬
posed. But all the pleasure that Tom takes is in teasing me.
Enter Thomas, driving Albert and Jack as horses. He drives
his team up near to the place where the girls are sitting, and
then reins them in. The horses appear very restive.
Thomas. Whoa! Steady! Stand still, now. If you don't,
you will hear the snapper of my whip a little nearer to your ears
than you will like—that I can tell you. What are you doing, girls ?
Lucilla. We are busy, Tom, and I wish you would keep away
from us. We don't want you coming here to plague us.
38
THE TEASING BROTHER.
How Tom was accustomed to tease his sister Lucilla.
Thomas. Oh no, by no means. So we will drive away. Come,
ponies, we'll start along. They don't seem to want any visitor
here. Come! Get up!
[He turns his horses off, and drives them away down an alley.
Jane. What did you send them away for, Lucilla ? They were
not going to do any harm.
Lucilla. Yes, Tom is always teasing me. He would not have
been here five minutes before you would have heard him begin.
He never leaves me in peace.
Jane. Why, how does he tease you, Lucilla?
Lucilla. Oh, he laughs at me for being so little.
Jane. But, Lucilla, I don't think you are so very little.
Lucilla. No ; but then just because I am not so big as he is,
when I am a year and a half younger, he makes all kinds of fun
of me. But then he's a boy and I am a girl, and I don't think
girls ought to be as big as boys.
Jane. Nor do I. And I think you are big enough.
Lucilla. Then he laughs at me because my cheeks are so red.
He is always making fun of my cheeks.
Jane. Oh, Lucilla, I don't think that your cheeks are too red at
all. They are only just a little rosy. I think you have very pret¬
ty cheeks indeed.
ljucilla. Do you, truly ?
Jane. Yes, I do, really and truly.
Lucilla. Well, now, Tom laughs at me so much about them
that it makes me quite ashamed. And that makes me blush, and
so my cheeks get redder than ever.
THE TEASING BROTHER.
39
Conversation between Tom and Jane. The poppies.
Jane. It is shameful for him to do so. Hark! He is coming
again with his horses.
[ Thornas comes up the alley driving his horses, and reins them
up near the bench.
Thomas. Whoa! Stand still, now! See if you can keep quiet
a moment.
Jane. Won't your horses stand still?
Thomas. No. It is the hardest span to manage I ever had.
It is because I keep them too well. They almost ruin me, buy¬
ing oats for them. But, Jenny, what is the reason that you have
got poppies to put in your bouquets ? Do you think that poppies
are pretty flowers to put into bouquets ?
Jane. I have not got any poppies.
Thomas. Yes; at least you had some. I saw two great red
poppies as I was looking up here, and I came up on purpose to
see whether you were going to put them into your bouquet.
Jane (impatiently). I have not got any poppies, and I have not
had any. You know I have not.
Thomas. I certainly thought I saw some. You have hid them
away somewhere. What have you done with them? Where
have you put them ?
\IIe looks all about, pretending to try to find the poppies.
Jane. No such thing, Thomas. You are only saying that to
plague me, I am sure.
Thomas (looking at Lucilla). Ah! now I see. It was Lucil-
la's two cheeks that I saw. I thought they were two great red
poppies. [_IIe points at Lucilla1 s cheeks, and laughs derisively.
40
THE TEASING BROTHER.
Tom makes sport of his sister. What he said to vex hei.
Lucilla. Tom, I wish you would go away.
Thomas (stillpointing). See! Tfcey grow redder and redder.
There's enough redness in them now for four poppies.
Lucilla. Tom, go aw;ay and let me alone.
Thomas. Ah! the pretty little thing! How nice and red it
makes her look, getting into a passion!
Lucilla. Tom, it is a shame to talk so. [She begins to cry.
Thomas. Then she is such a pretty little thing, too. When
she is married, the people that come to the house will think she is
one of the children. My little dear, they will say, where is your
mother ?*
Jane. You must not talk so, Thomas. You trouble your sis¬
ter very much. You must go away with your horses and leave
her alone. Don't you see how you trouble her ?
Thomas. Oh, yes, we will go away. Come, ponies! We will
trot along, and leave the poor little thing to herself. Come! Get
up ! [He cracks his whip, and the horses trot away.
Jane. Don't cry, Lucilla. I would not mind him at all.
Lucilla. He troubles me so much, I don't know what I shall do.
Jane. I would not mind him at all. You are not too little, and
your cheeks are not at all too red ; and if I were you, I would not
mind any thing he can say.
* See Frontispiece.
the teasing brother.
41
The boys propose a change in their play. Tom's sloop.
Scene II.
Thomas, Albert, and Jack.
A pretty green yard in the rear of a house opening from a barn-yard. A
large trough of water in a corner, near a pump, and under the shade of
some trees, with a path leading to it from the barn-yard by which animals
come to it to drink.
Enter Thomas, driving Albert and Jack as his horses.
Thomas. Whoa! Steady! It is time to give my horses a
little drink, and here is a first-rate place to water them. Stand
steady, now, while I let down the bridle, and then you can drink.
You can't drink till I let down the bridle.
Albert and Jack (neighing). Hm—hm—hm—hm.
Thomas. Ah! boys, I'll tell you what we will do. We have
played horses long enough. I will go and get my little sloop, and
We will sail it on this pond.
Albert. Agreed! I'm tired of playing horses.
Jack. Have you got a little sloop?
Thomas. Yes, and an elegant little thing it is. Only the main¬
sail is out of order. It wants to be sewed a little. It has got rip¬
ped off from the boom, so that it won't hoist. But mother will
mend it for me in two minutes, and then we can sail it here.
Jack. Well, go in and get it.
Thomas. Yes, I'll go and get it, and in the mean time you and
Albert may be pumping, so as to fill up the pond. Fill it brim-
42
the teasing brother.
Albert and Jack filling the pond. Thomas comes back with his vessel.
ming full. You can take turns in pumping, and then you will not
get tired. \_He goes into the house.
Albert {going to the pump). I'll begin.
Jack. You may pump twenty strokes, and then I will pump
twenty.
Albert. Oh, I can pump more than that. It pumps very easy
indeed.
[He begins pumping very vigorously. Jack sits down on the
platform of the pump. Albert pumps eight or ten strokes,
and then stops, seeming to be tired or out of breath.
Come, Jack, a'n't you going to help me pump ?
Jack. Oh yes, I'll help. I thought you were going to pump
twenty strokes, and you have not pumped more than ten yet.
Albert. Oh yes, I have pumped a great deal more than ten.
Jack. But I counted them.
Enter Thomas, with his vessel.
Albert. Ah ! Thomas, you have come "back quick. And you
have got the vessel ?
Thomas. Yes.
Jack. And have you got the sail mended ?
Thomas. No ; my mother is not at home.
Albert. Then why did not you ask Bridget to mend it ?
Thomas. I did, but she is busy making some cakes for supper.
She says that I must go and get Lucilla to do it for me, because
she has got her needle and thread all out and ready.
Albert. Well, and you will ?
the teasing BROTHER.
43
Why Thomas did not wish to ask his sister to mead the sail.
Thomas. Why, no, I don't know as I shall* {lie seems to hei-
itate.) I'll tell you what—you go, Albert, while I finish pump¬
ing the pond full. You go and ask her.
Albert. No, I had rather not go"..
Thomas. Then you go, Jack.
Jack. No, you must go yourself.
Thomas. But I'm afraid she will not do it for me.
Albert. Why not?
Thomas. Why, she will feel cross because I teased her so.
She has not had time to get good-natured yet.
Albert. Oh, perhaps she will do it. At any rate, you had bet¬
ter go and see.
Thomas. Well, I'll go, but I don't believe she will.
Scene III.
Lucilla, Jane, Thomas.
The garden. Lucilla and Jane at the stone bench as in the first scene. Lu¬
cilla looks very sorrowful.
Enter Thomas, with his sloop in his hand, the mainsail hang¬
ing down.
Thomas. Lucilla, I want you to mend my mainsail.
Lucilla. No, you must mend it yourself.
Thomas. But 1 can't mend it myself. Even if I had a needle
and thread I could not mend it, for the head of the needle always
pricks my finger when I undertake to sew.
Jane. Then you must put on a thimble.
44
the teasing brothek.
Lucilla refuses to mend her brother's sail, and Thomas goes away angry.
Thomas. But I can't wear a thimble. It is not big enough to
go on my finger—at least one of Lucilla's thimbles is not. And
then, besides, when I have a thimble, I can not push the needle
through with it. It slips away from the thimble, and then pricks
me again.
Jane. Then I should think that if you wanted your sister to do
things for you now and then, you would be kind to her.
Thomas. I am kind to her.
Jane. No, you trouble her very much.
\_Lucilla puts her handkerchief to her eyes again, and begins
to cry.
Thomas. It's very silly for her to mind such things. I was
only in fun. Come, Lucilla, will you mend it for me or not ? Say.
\JjUcilla seems very much troubled, and does not answer.
Jane. I'd mend it for you if I could, but I don't think I could,
and Lucilla is too much troubled; so you had better go away.
Thomas. She's a cross, ugly old thing! And I would paste a
whole poppy leaf on both her cheeks, only that would not make
them any redder than they are now. [He goes away in a rage.
Scene IY.
Thomas, Albert, and Jack. Afterward Jane and Edward.
The yard. Albert and Jack at the trough.
Enter Thomas, with his vessel in his hand.
Albert. Would not she mend it, Thomas ?
Thomas. No ; but never mind, we can furl the sail. We will
the teasing brother.
45
Making a storm. Jane and Thomas. Tha wagon-ride.
play that there is a great storm, and that all the sails are taken
in.- You can get a piece of board* Albert, and make a great pad¬
dling at one end of the pond, and that will make the waves.
Jack. I111 do that. I know how to make a good paddling.
But, then, I advise you to have your sail mended as soon as your
mother comes home.
Albert. Here comes Jane. Could not she mend it for you ?
Thomas. She has not got any needle and thread, and, besides,
she is too little to mend it well.
Enter Jane, with her bouquet of flowers in her hand.
Albert. Ah! Jane, what a pretty bouquet!
Thomas. Yes, it is quite pretty. But what was the reason,
Jane, that Lucilla would not mend my sail ?
Jane. Why, Thomas, she says she would do any thing in the
world for you, if you would only be kind to her.
Thomas. I am kind to her. The other day I took her a long
ride in the wagon.
Jane. But that was because you wanted her to show you where
a great tree was that had nuts on it.
Thomas. "Well, but she had a good ride notwithstanding. Ah!
here comes somebody by the front gate. It's Cousin Edward. I
wish he would come out here. He used to know very well how
to rig vessels, and he might mend my sail for me just as well as
not, if he has not got to be too grand, going to college.
46
the teasing beother.
Edward comes in and admires Jane's bouquet.
Enter Edward, coming through a gate by the side of the house.
Edward. Well, boys, are you sailing your boats? Jane, how
do you do? What a pretty bouquet! You did not make it?
Jane. Yes, I made it all myself, only Lucilla advised me a little
about it.
Edward. I did not think you had so much taste and skill;
but, after all, it is time for you to have some taste and skill. You
are getting pretty old. How old are you ?
Jane. I am almost eight.
Edward. Almost eight! I did not think you were so old. I
don't wonder that you can make pretty bouquets. Eight is pretty
old for such a girl as you.
Thomas. Cousin Edward, I wish you would mend my sail for
me—my mainsail.
Edward. Let me look. What is the matter with it ?
Thomas. See! It is ripped off the upper boom so that I can
not hoist it. I tried to pin it, but it would not stay pinned.
Edward. It needs to be sewed. That is a lady's work. You
must get somebody to sew it for you—somebody that is used to
needles and thread, and that can do it neatly.
Thomas. But I can not find any body to do it.
Edward. I should think Aunt Mary would do it.
Thomas. But she has gone away.
Edward. Well, Lucilla, then ; where is she ?
Thomas. She is in the garden, but she won't do it.
Edward. Won't do it? That's very strange. It would not
THE TEASING BROTHER.
47
Edward takes the vessel and goes in search of Lucilla.
take five minutes. She must Tbe very busy indeed not to be able
to spare five minutes.
Thomas. It is not because she is busy.
Edward. What is the reason, then ?
Thomas. I don't know, only she won't do it.
Edward. That is strange. Sisters are generally glad to do
things for their brothers, because that makes their brothers desirous
to gratify them. What does she say is the reason why she will not?
Thomas. She does not say any thing, only she won't do it.
Edward. You must have done something to trouble her.
Thomas. No, I have not done any thing at all. I have not
touched her.
Jane. I think it is because you teased her so much, Thomas.
Edward. How did he tease her ?
Jane. He laughed at her because her cheeks were so red, and
because she was so little. He laughed at her and teased her so
much that at last she began to cry.
Edward. Is it possible ? I should have thought that any boy
of twelve years old would have had more manliness in him than
to have done so. I am astonished. Where is Lucilla ?
Jane. She is out in the garden. She did not exactly say that
she would not mend the sail, but she was so troubled at the
time he came for her to do it that she could not do it. I would
have done it myself if I had known how; but Lucilla was too
much troubled.
Edward. I must go right to her this minute and comfort her.
Give me the vessel, and I will get that mended at the same time.
48
the teasing brother.
Conversation between Lucilla and Edward about Thomas.
Scene Y.
Lucilla. Afterward Edward.
A retired alley at the foot of the garden. Lucilla is walking to and fro with
a disconsolate air.
Lucilla. I wonder whether my eyes look red. I don't want to
have any body see that I have been crying. And somebody may
come. I had hard work to get Jenny to go away without me.
Ah! here comes somebody now. I'll hide behind these trees.
Ah! no. It's cousin Edward. I am not afraid of cousin Ed¬
ward. He never laughs at me at all.
Enter Edward.
Edward. Ah! Lucilla, dear, I am glad that I have found you.
Lucilla. You are bringing me Thomas's vessel to mend, and I
am willing to mend it. I'll mend it right away. I've got my nee¬
dle and thread in my pocket.
Edward. You are a dear good child, and you deserve a great
deal better brother than Thomas is to you. Come, well sit down
here on this bench.
\They sit down on the bench. Lucilla taJces out her 7ieedle and
thread, and begins to mend the sail.
Thomas has been teasing and troubling you, I hear ?
Lucilla. Yes. I suppose he only does it for fun, but it troub¬
les me very much indeed. I have tried every possible way to
stop him from doing it, but he won't stop.
THE TEASING BROTHER.
49
Edward comforting Lueilla. What he said to her.
Edward. How does lie tease you ? What does lie say and do ?
Lueilla. Why, he laughs at me because my cheeks are so red,
and because I am so little, and at last I feel so bad about it that
I am ashamed to have any body see me.
Edward. I think it is disgraceful for him to do so, and I am
going to give him a most terrible scolding for it. But perhaps
my scolding will not do any good, and if he tries to tease you any
more, you must not pay any attention to it.
Lueilla. But it troubles me so much. He says I look like a
little fright.
Edward. He only says such things because he sees that they
trouble you. If you don't pay any attention to them, and don't
let them trouble you, he will soon give it up.
Lueilla. Do you think my cheeks are so very red ?
Edward. No, your cheeks are very pretty, and you are very
pretty altogether, and every body thinks so. Thomas knows that
as well as every body, and he only says what he does to tease
you and vex you.
Ljucilla. I was afraid that what he said was true, and that
wherever I went every body was secretly laughing at me, and that
made me afraid to go any where or to see any body.
Edward. No, you may depend upon it that it is not so. It is
exactly the contrary of that. And now I am going to tell you
something that I should not have told you on any account if it
had not been for this trouble. You know George Clinton?
Lueilla {timidly). I saw him once or twice when he was here
in his vacation.
50
THE TEASING BROTHER.
What George Clinton said. . Edward takes the vessel back to Thomas.
Edward. X was walking with him once, and we met you in the
road—you and a number of other girls. You were walking along
together, just beyond the great pine tree.
Lucilla, Yes, we were going a strawberrying.
Edward. Should you think that he was a good judge ?
Lucilla. I should think he would be a good judge. At any
rate, the girls all liked him very much indeed.
Edward. Well, as soon as you had gone by, he asked me about
you. He said you had one of the loveliest faces he ever saw, so
kind and gentle in the expression of it, and yet so fresh and rosy.
He said that you had a very pretty form too, and that he thought
you were going to be one of the prettiest young ladies in the
town.
Lucilla (turning away her face). I suppose he said that be¬
cause I was your cousin.
Edward. No, he did not know that you were my cousin till aft¬
erward.
Lucilla. Well, at any rate, I am much obliged to him.
Edward. I would not have told you of what he said if it had
not been for this trouble, as I should have been afraid that it
would make you vain; but as it is, it will only reassure you and
colmfort you.
Lucilla. It does comfort me a great deal.
Edward. TVell, now you have finished the sail, and you have
done it very neatly indeed. I'll carry it back to Thomas ; but
you may depend upon it that I shall give him a great scolding.
Lucilla. But, Cousin Edward, I am afraid that if yOU gcoj(j
the teasing brother.
51
How to scold. Thomas and Jane. Edward's return.
i —— —.—— .1 - —■'
him so, it will only make him angry, and then he will tease me
all the more.
Edward. No, I won't scold him so as to make him feel angry.
I'll scold so as to make him feel good-natured.
Lucilla. Well, that will do very well.
Scene YI.
Thomas, Jane. Afterward Edward.
The yard. Thomas and Jane sitting together on the platform near the door
of the house.
Thomas. I do not see why the toys could not wait till Edward
came back with the vessel.
Jane. Why, they said it was time for them to go home; and it
is time for me to go too.
Thomas. Wait a minute or two till Edward comes hack. I
want to see if Lucilla has mended my sail. I'll bet you she has
not.
Jane. And I'll bet you that she has. She would like to mend
your sails, and do every thing else for you that she could, if you
would only be kind to her; and, for my part, I don't see why you
can't be kind to her.
Thomas. Why, I am kind to her.
Jane. Well, if you are kind, you are not polite. I'm sure you
are not polite. You are very impolite.
Thomas. Ah! here comes Edward. He has got the vessel.
Jane. Yes, and it is all nicely mended.
52
the teasing- brother.
Edward's conversation with Thomas.
Enter Edward, with the vessel.
Edward. There, Thomas, there is your vessel.
Thomas. Did Lucilla mend the sail ?
Edward. Yes, and she has mended it very nicely. It is as
good as ever it was.
Thomas. Well, she did not mend it for me. She only mended
it because you asked her.
Edward. What makes you think so ?
Thomas. Because she is always perfectly willing to do any
thing for you.
Edward. And what do you suppose is the reason why she is
more willing to do things for me than for you ?
Thomas. I don't know. She takes a notion to.
Edward. Well, however that may he, you are mistaken about
it in this case, for she did not do it because I asked her to do it.
She did it wholly of her own accord. As soon as I went to her,
she offered to do it of her own accord.
Thomas. Did she ?
Edward. Yes. And now, how old are you, Thomas ?
Thomas (proudly). I am over twelve.
Edward. Over twelve! Now stand up and let me see how
tall you are.
Thomas (standing wp in a very erect jposture). See!
Edward. Yes,I see; yes. You can't be less than four feet
two inches high.
Thomas. I mean to measure myself.
THE TEASING BROTHER.
53
Thomas to be exhibited as a curiosity. Difference between anger and malice.
Edward. Yes, I should like to know how tall you are. The
fact is, I expect two or three of my college classmates here in a
few days, and I should like to show you to them as a curiosity.
Thomas. How as a curiosity?
Edward. Why, I think they will consider it as a great curios¬
ity to see a boy over twelve years old, and over four feet high,
who has yet got littleness enough left in him to take pleasure in
teasing a girl.
Thomas. Oh Edward!
Edward. They would consider you a curiosity, I'm sure. If
you were a little child, just playing about your mother's knee,
they would not consider it surprising. In that case, you might
as well get angry with a girl as with any other child.
Thomas. Why, Cousin Edward, I was not angry with her.
Edward. You were not angry with her ? I.t grows worse and
worse. Sometimes, when people do or say unkind things, they
say, I did it hastily ; I was angry ; the moment I thought of it, I
was sorry. But you, it seems, have not even that poor excuse.
You do such things in cool moments, purely out of the pleasure it
gives you to see a girl suffer. That's simple malice. It is a great
deal worse than I thought it was. It is malice.
Thomas. Oh, Cousin Edward, what a hard name you give it!
Edward. That's the real name for it. Taking pleasure in giv¬
ing other people pain is malice, and nothing else.
Thomas. Why, Cousin Edward, I did not know she cared about
it so much. I only did it in fun.
Edward. But you knew that it pained her. You knew that it
54
THE TEASING BEOTHEE.
Ingenious reproaches. A mistake avoided. The excu
made her unhappy, and that was what the fun of it consisted in.
Now I suppose my classmates have seen ugly boys "before, who
can take pleasure in making animals and other hoys unhappy
there are plenty of such fellows about; but that any well-grown
boy, twelve years old and four feet high, could find any fun in tor¬
menting a beautiful girl, and she his sister, I think will surprise
them.
Thomas. No, I won't have you show me to them.
Edward. It is certainly a very extraordinary case. I never
knew such childishness last so long before. I thought, when a
boy got to be ten or twelve, he usually began to be something of
a gentleman, or, at least, he began to have some of the feelings of
a gentleman.
Thomas. Why, Cousin Edward, I only did it for fun.
Edward. That's just the thing—that you could find any fun
in such a way. I came very near making a terrible mistake.
Thomas. What mistake ?
Edward. Why, we had a plan of a party of young ladies and
young gentlemen to make an excursion up the mountains, and we
had your name down on the list to go with us. Some of them
thought you were not old enough, but I thought you were, be-
cause you can drive so well. You see, we shall have to go five or
six miles in chaises or wagons, and I thought you could drive one
of the chaises so well. But X suppose that if you were to go with
us, instead of helping us make the girls have a good time which
is the way in which we should try to find pleasure in the party
r-r-you wQuld expect to find fun in teasing and tormenting them.
THE TEASING BEOTHEE.
Malicious pleasures. Thomas makes a good resolution.
Thomas. Oh no, I should not, Edward.
Edward. For instance, you might get a handful ©f nettles, and
come up behind some of them slyly, and put the nettles down in
their necks.
Thomas. No, indeed, Edward, I should not do any such
thing.
Edward. Or else, if we came to a steep place in going up the
mountain, and we were all taking pleasure in helping our - ladies
up, and making it as easy as possible for them, you would find it
good fun to push them back, and so make them have all the toil
over again.
Thomas. Oh no, Edward.
Edward. Or lead some girl treacherously away to a shelf of
the rock, where she could not get up or down.
Thomas. Indeed I would not do any such thing.
Edward. And then leave her there, and point at her, and laugh
at her, for the sake of making fun.
Thomas. No, Edward, I should not do any such things as those.
But I don't wonder that you should think I should, and I am de¬
termined that from this time forever—or at least as long as I live
—I will never tease or trouble Lucilla any more.
Edward. That's a good resolution; but boys like you make a
great many excellent resolutions that they never keep. I hope
you will keep this one, but I can't help having some doubts about
it. But good-by. I must go and make the arrangements for our
party. [Edward goes away.
Jane (coming up to Thomas compassionately). Don't be troub-
56
the teasing brother.
Jane's advice. Thomas's soliloquy in the avenue.
led, Thomas. I'm sorry he scolded you so much, and I'm sure
that Lucilla will be sorry too.
Thomas. I don't think she ought to be sorry, for I really think
that I deserve the scolding—I do, really and truly.
Jane. Then I think you had better go and find her in the gar¬
den, and tell her that you are sorry that you made her cry.
[Jane goes out, leaving Thomas looking very thoughtful.
Scene VII.
Thomas. Afterward Orkney.
A road, with avenues of trees on each side. Thomas is walking under the
trees in a pensive manner, hut looking along the road every now and then,
as if he expected some one.
Thomas. I did not think of its troubling Lucilla so much, and
I am determined not to trouble her any more. I am determined
not to trouble her or any other girls. If I trouble any body, it
shall be some boy as big as I am, who will be able to pay me
back. (He looks along the road.) I wish Orkney would come.
He goes to the post-office every afternoon to get the boys' letters,
and he usually comes back just about this time. If I could see
him, he'd tell me what I had better do. He always knows what
it is best to do. There he is now 1 he's coming, I verily believe.
{lie looks along the road eagerly.) No, it is not he; it's anoth¬
er boy. Ah! he's turned down the other road. I'm glad of it.
I only want to see Orkney. I can't bear to have Edward go and
tell all the boys that I should only tease the girls if they invited
the teasing brother.
57
Orkney again. On duty. Thomas's conversation.
me to go with them ; but I don't see how I can help it. Perhaps
Orkney can find some way to help it. He can always find some
way of doing every thing. Ah! here he comes. Yes, I see him.
He has got the letter-bag in his hand.
Enter Orkney, with a leathern bag in his hand.
Thomas. Ah! Orkney, I am glad you have come. You are
just the fellow that I want to see.
Orkney. Yes, but I can't stop to talk with you now. I'm on
duty. See! [He holds up the bag.
Thomas. Yes, I know very well that you never will stop when
you're on duty, as you call it; but I want you to help me very
much.
Orkney. Then you must walk along with me, for I must go on
with the letters. The boys are always very impatient to get their
letters. That's the reason, they said, why they appointed me post¬
master, because they knew that I would not stop by the way
when I went for the letters.
Thomas. Well, I will tell you at once what it is. You see, the
boys have got a plan of an excursion to Mount Talbot, and Ed¬
ward says that they are not going to invite me.
Orkney. Oh, you are mistaken about that, for I was with them
when the plan was formed; and when your name was mentioned,
some thought that you were too young, but Edward said he
thought you would do. He said that you could drive very well
indeed; so they concluded to invite you, for they wanted some
good drivers.
58
THE TEASING BROTHER.
Why Edward altered his mind about inviting Thomas.
Thomas. Yes, but now Edward has altered his mind.
Orlcney. Altered his mind ?
Thomas. He says now that he thinks I am not old enough,
and he is going to tell all the other lboys so.
Orkney. That's very strange! What could have led him to
alter his mind ?
Thomas. I'm sure I don't know. Yes, I do know, I suppose.
He says he is afraid that I shall tease and trouble the girls; but
I should not do any such thing.
Orkney. It is very surprising. What can have put such an-
idea as that into his head ? What makes him think that you
would tease and trouble the girls ?
Thomas. Why, he says (hesitating) that I tease and trouble
Lucilla.
Orkney. Ah! that explains it. Now I begin to get.a little
light. You have been making fun of poor Lucilla, and teasing
and troubling her, and so Edward thinks it is not safe to have you
join the pleasure party, with so many girls in it.
Thomas. Why, yes, that's about it.
Orkney. Well, I'll help you, Thomas, all I can. What you
want is,"I suppose, that the boys should not change their plans,
but should let you go with them on the excursion. Is that the
state of the case ?
Thomas. Yes; for I'm sure I should not trouble the girls the
least in the world. And, besides, I am determined not to trouble
Lucilla any more, at any rate, whether I go on the excursion or
not.
THE TEASING BROTHER.
59
Orkney's advice to Thomas. Self-deception. Orkney's kindness.
Orkney. Really?
Thomas (in a very positive manner). Yes, I am, really and
truly.
Orkney. And do you think you make that resolution because
you see that it is wrong for you to trouble her, or because you
want to get an invitation to go on the excursion ? Which do you
think the reason is ?
Thomas. Because I think it is wrong.
Orkney. We can't tell certainly which it is. I can't tell and
you can't tell. We very often deceive ourselves in such cases.
I have deceived myself so a great many times. I did not know
it at the time, but I found it out afterward. But now I will tell,
you what you had better do. You had better give up all thoughts
of the excursion, and only think about Lucilla, and making it
right with her. I suppose you really have teased and tried her
a great deal. That is so, is not it ?
Thomas (looking down). Why, yes, I am afraid I have. But
I am not going to do it any more. I am fully determined that
I won't.
Orkney. I don't think so very hard of you for it as some peo¬
ple- might, though I think it is very wrong. But boys like you
are very often doing such things. I've known boys a good deal
older than you to do them.
Thomas. Yes; but after this I'm not going to do such things
any more.
Orkney. That's right. It is very boyish to tease and trouble
girls. They are always sensitive, and it is very easy to tease
60
THE TEASING. BROTHER.
Orkney tells Thomas how to retrieve a lost character.
them. It is also easy to gratify them and give them pleasure.
Now I advise you to forget all about tlie excursion. Let that
take care of itself, and you only think how you can make it right
with Lucilla. You see, you ought to make her some atonement
for the pain and trouble you have already given her. That is
the first thing to be done.
Thomas. How shall I do it ? '
Orkney. Why, you must contrive some way to please and grat¬
ify her, and that will show her at once that you are going to
change your course.
Thomas. Well, I should like to do that very much; but what
shall I do ?
Orkney. Oh, you must contrive some way yourself. You had
ingenuity enough to devise ways to tease her, and now it would
be very strange if you could not contrive ways to give her pleas¬
ure. Besides, what you do will give her much more pleasure if
you contrive it yourself than if it is something that somebody else
lias contrived for you.
Thomas. Well, I'll see. But then, Orkney, I don't like to have
Edward tell all the boys and girls that he don't want me to go
with the party because he thinks I should be a plague to them.
But I don't see how I can prevent it.
Orkney. I should not wish to have him tell them so, if I were
you. A good character is worth every thing. But that will all
come right of itself if you only do right. You may depend upon
that. If, at any time, we lose our character by doing wrong, we
always get it back again soon by doing right. We can never get
the teasing brother.
61
The boys waiting for their letters. Thomas doing Lucilla a kindness.
a lost character back again by running after it. I advise you to
say nothing and do nothing except to turn square about in respect
to Lucilla.. and you will see that every thing else will all come
right soon.
Thomas. Well, good-by, Orkney. We're getting pretty near;
so now I must turn about and go back again.
Orkney. Yes. There are the boys of the school all together in
the yard, waiting for the letters.
Scene YIII.
Thomas alone.
The garden. On the right, a border of roses and other flowers. On the left,
fruit-trees, and among the rest a tall and slender pear-tree leaning to one
side. Thomas enters with a long stake and piece of twine.
Thomas. Lucilla's tree was somewhere in this border. She
asked me to stake it up for her some time ago. Ah I here it is.
Yes, it is leaning over all to one side. But I have got a good
stake and some twine, and I'll stake it up for her as straight as
an arrow.
[lie drives the stake down by the side of the tree, and then ties
the tree to it neatly with pieces of his twine, talking to him¬
self as he does it.
There! that will please her for one thing, I know. She is
very particular about her tree. She planted it herself, she says,
when she was a very little girl; and now see how tall it has
grown! It is higher than my head. ✓
I wonder where she has gone. {lie looks about the garden.) I
62
the teasing brothek.
Lucilla runs away from her brother. A message.
wish she was here now to see how straight her tree looks. But
I suppose she has gone in. I wish I could see her, to tell her that
I'm not going to trouble her any more. But then I don't know
how I should tell her if she was here. Ah! I see her now. There!
she is just going out of the garden gate. (He calls.) Lucilla !
Lucilla! Lucilla ! Stop! I want to speak to you. She will not
stop. She is running off as fast as she can go. She is afraid of
me; and I don't wonder at it. It makes me feel quite ashamed.
Certainly, a girl ought not to have any reason to be afraid of her
brother.
What shall I do to show her that she need not be afraid of me
any more? {He looks upon the border of flowers.) Ah! I see.
I'll make her a bouquet. Girls always like flowers, especially
when the giving of the flowers to them has any particular mean¬
ing. So I'll make her a bouquet, and leave it in her room. I'll
write a little note to tell her the flowers are for her, and who left
them there.
\He proceeds to gather a blush rose and some other flowers.
He makes a bouquet by placing the rose in the centre, and
the other flowers around it, and ties up the whole by means
of apiece of his string.
There! Now I'll go into the house, and get a piece of paper and
write the note. I'll write it as well as I can.
the teasing brother.
63
What Lucilla said when she received Thomas's note.
Scene IX.
Lucilla. Afterward Edward.
A pretty bed-room. On one side of the room, a bed with curtains. On the
other side, a bureau between two windows. At the farther end, a bay window
with a table in it. Upon the table, a small bouquet of flowers in a glass,
with a note upon the table before it.
Enter Lucilla, looking sorrowful.
Lucilla. I saw Thomas running off out of my room just as I
was coming to it. He has been here, I suppose, to play me some
new trick. I must look all about my room to see what he has
been doing. The chairs are all right, I see. Sometimes he comes
in and turns them all upside down to trouble me. {She looks
about the room.) I don't see any thing that he has done. (She
spies the bouquet upon the table.) Ah! here are some flowers. I
wonder who put these pretty flowers here! And here is a note.
Who could have written it ? It is a note for me.
\_She opens the note and reads.
"Dear Lucilla."
But let me first see whose name is at the bottom of it. {She
turns to the end of the note to look at the name.) Why, it is
from Thomas. I'll begin and read it all through.
"Dear Lucilla,
" I have straightened up your pear-tree, and fastened it nicely
64
THE TEASING BEOTHEE.
Lucilla'a bed-room. The bouquet. Reading tlie note.
TIIB 10TJQUET.
to a stake. I also brought these flowers for you. I could not tie
them up very well, for I don't know how to make such pretty bou¬
quets as you can. But the principal thing I sent it to you for is
the rose. It is the prettiest little blush rose that I could find, and
it is exactly the color of your cheeks. If it had been any pret¬
tier, it would have been more like your cheeks.
" This is the real truth. What I said before was only bad and
foolish joking. Thomas.
the teasing brother.
65
Lucilla gratified at her brother's kindness. Edward enters. The excursion.
" P.S.—I'm going to be a better boy, and not trouble you any
more."
How glad I am ! The dear little rose! What a pretty color!
And hoiv delicate! I am very glad that Thomas sent it to me.
And what a pretty note it is! {She looks at the writing.) How
well it is written! It looks as if a young gentleman wrote it. I
did not think that Thomas could write so well. Hark! Some¬
body is coming. I'll show them my bouquet, and see if they don't
think it is a beautiful one.
Enter Edward.
Edward. Ah! Lucilla, here you are! I have been out into
the garden to find you, but you were not there. I wanted to tell
you that we are going to change our plans about the excursion,
and not let Thomas go.
Lucilla. Ah! yes, Cousin Edward, do let him go.
Edward. Why, Lucilla, I should not think you would wish to
have him go, he is such a plague to you.
Lucilla. But, Cousin Edward, he says he is not going to plague
me any more.
Edward. You can't trust to such boys' promises. He may
easily make promises, but he will find it very hard to keep them.
It will not be very easy for him to change. It is not a little
change that is required. He will have to turn right square about,
and that it will be very hard for him to do.
Lucilla. But he has done it, Cousin Edward; he has turned
80 E
66
THE TEASING BROTHER.
Edward decides to let Thomas join the party. End of the dialogue.
square about. See this pretty bouquet that he has given me, and
see this note, and read it. \Edward takes the note and reads it.
Edward (in a tone of great satisfaction). Well, that looks as
if he was in earnest, really. That is coming to the point just like
a man.
Lucilla. I wish you would let him go with us. I am almost
sure that he will not do any thing to trouble us.
Edward (hesitating). I am glad, on the whole, that I have not
told any of the others about it yet.
Lucilla. Then you have not told them ?
Edward. No, I was going to see some of the party now; but,
since I have seen this note, I think I shall say nothing about it.
We'll let him go with us. We'll try him this time, at any rate;
but, as soon as I find him going back to his old tricks again—
Lucilla. Oh, he won't go back, I'm sure.
Edward. I don't think he will myself. But I must go.
Good-by. [jHe goes out.
Lucilla. (She puts the note away carefully in a drawer, and
fastens the bouquet in her bosom.) I'll keep the note very care¬
fully. And this bouquet—I'll go and show it to Jane. It is the
dearest little bouquet I ever had in my life; and the note is even
prettier than the bouquet.
the wheelbarrow case. 67
Aleck proposes to finish the darn. Top proposes to fly the kite.
III.
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
Orkney,
Top,
Aleck,
Charles, )
> schoolmates.
Me. Hamilton, a teacher.
Jenny, a little girl.
Arthur, a baby.
Other children.
Scene I.
Top, Aleck, Geoege.
A yard behind a large house in the country which is used as a boarding-
school. Various groups of boys. Aleck and Top sitting on the edge of a
platform of the piazza. Charles is in a corner of the yard, in the middle
of a group of boys.
Top. Aleck, what are you going to do this afternoon ?
Aleck. I don't know what I shall do, but I know very well
what I should like to do.
Top. What?
Aleck. I should like to go down to the brook and finish our
dam. There is not a great deal more to do to it.
Top. But we can't do any thing more to it till we get a wheel¬
barrow. We want a wheelbarrow to wheel gravel in to fill up
the embankment; so I think we had better go and fly my kite.
We can go out into the field behind the barn.
68
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
The boys propose to borrow Charles's wheelbarrow.
Aleck. Have you got a good kite ?
Top. Yes, an excellent one. I've got a very long string too.
The kite will go up almost out of sight, the string is so long.
Aleck. But I should rather finish our dam, if we could. You
see, as soon as the dam is finished, we can raise the water, and
then sail our boats.
Top. We had an excellent dam in the town where I live. We
dug out a Tbasin first, and then we made a dam, and it was the
best place to sail boats that I ever saw. We had some little
wharves too, where we could stand to sail our boats.
Aleck. We can have just as good a one here.
Top. If we only had a wheelbarrow.
Aleck. Charles has got a wheelbarrow, and he will lend it to us
if we ask him.
Top. Do you think he will ?
Aleck. Yes, I am sure he will. You ask Tiimt
Top. No, you ask him.
Aleck. Well, I'll ask him. (He calls out.) Charles!
Charles (coming toward Top and Aleck). Well, Aleck, what
do you want of me ?
Aleck. Top and I want to know if you will lend us your
wheelbarrow this afternoon to finish our dam. We want to wheel
some gravel for the embankment.
Charles. Oh no, I can't very well. Yes, I will lend it to you,
if Top will lend me his kite.
Top. Well, I will.
Charles. Is your kite in good order ?
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
69
The bargain made. The conditions.
Top. Yes, it is in perfect order.
Charles. Is there tail enough ?
Top. Yes, I made three new lengths of tail yesterday, and now
there is full enough, and a good tassel at the end of it.
Charles. And is there a good long string ?
Top. Yes, there is a string long enough to let the kite go al¬
most out of sight.
Charles. Then, if you will lend me your kite, I will lend you
my wheelbarrow; that will be fair.
Top. Agreed. I'll go directly up into my room and get it.
You may wait here till I come.
Aleck. And where is the wheelbarrow, Charles ?
Charles. It is under the bench in the old shop-room. You will
find it there all safe, and you must put it back there when you
have done with it.
Top. Yes, we will; and you must carry my kite and put it in
my room when you have done with it, and you must promise not
to get the tail tangled.
Charles. Yes, I'll take care of that.
Top. And, if you do get the tail tangled, you must untangle it
again.
Charles., Yes, I will.
70 the wheelbarrow case.
Top and Aleck at work upon the dam. The broken wheelbarrow.
Scene II.
Top, Aleck.
Afield, where there is a brook and an unfinished dam. Top and Aleck are
approaching a gravel bank, not far from their dam, with a small wheelbar¬
row and a shovel. They stop when they reach the bank.
Top. It is a nice thing to have this wheelbarrow. If it were
not for this, we could not have finished our dam.
Aleck. No, it takes so much gravel to fill up the embankment,
we could not possibly bring it on the shovel.
Top. How many loads do you think it will take now to fill
it up ?
Aleck. Oh, not more than eight or ten. You shall load five
loads, and I will wheel them, and after that I will load five, and
you shall wheel them. That will divide the work.
Top. Agreed. (He begins to shovel gravel into the wheelbar¬
row, but, at the second or third shovelful, one of the sides comes
out.) There now, Aleck, the side has come out! See if you
can put it in again.
Aleck {frying to replace the side). It is broken. The piece on
the side, that goes down into this iron" socket, is broken off, so
there is nothing to hold the side in its place.
Top. Then what shall we do ?
Aleck. I'll hold it. You go on loading, and I will hold the
side in its place till the wheelbarrow is full.
[Top goes on shoveling gravel into the wheelbarrow until it is
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
71
Top and Aleck discussing the accident to Charles's wheelbarrow.
full, while Aleck holds the side in its place. Aleck then
lets go the side and takes hold of the wheelbarrow by the
handles, but on the first attempt to move it the side falls
out, and a large portion of the gravel slides out upon the
ground.
Top. There now, Aleck, see what you have done!
Aleck. Why, Top, it is not my fault. The side came out. It
is your fault if it is any body's, for you ought to have held in the
side while I wheeled it.
Top. I did not think of that.
Aleck. It is Charles's fault for not having mended the side.
He ought not to have had his wheelbarrow broken.
Top. Yes, it is Charles's fault. He ought to have mended the
wheelbarrow. What good does it do us to lend us a wheelbarrow
that we can not use, I should like to know ?
Aleck. He was going to mend it yesterday. He got a piece
of wood and shaped it, and got it all ready to nail it on ; but while
he went in to soften the nails in the fire, so as to have them clinch
well, it came time for study hours, and so he did not finish it.
And this is the reason why it is broken. But he ought to have
told us about it.
Top. Let's go and get him to mend it now.
Aleck. So we will. He can finish mending it in five minutes.
There is nothing to do but to nail on the cleat.
Top. We will wheel the wheelbarrow up to the shop, and then
go and find Charles out in the field whera he is flying the kite,
and tell him to go and mend it.
72
the wheelbaerow case.
Scene in the field. Why a kite rises in the air.
Aleck. Agreed!
[ The boys tip over the wheelbarrow so as to pour out the rest
of the gravel, and then wheel it away.
Scene III.
Chables. Jenny. Aethue. Afterward Top and Aleck.
An open field. Boys playing ball. Charles is on one side of the field flying
a kite. Jenny is near him with a little wagon in which Arthur is sitting.
She has been drawing him about in the wagon, and now she has stopped to
look at the kite.
Jenny {speaking to Arthur in the wagon). See! Look at the
kite, Arthur. Away up in the air! High! high! very high in
the air! See how high!
Arthur. Oo—oo!
Jenny. What makes the kite go up so high, Charles ?
Charles. The wind blows it.
Jenny. But I should not think the wind would Tblow it up ; I
thought the wind blew right along.
Charles. Yes, the wind does blow right along; but then the
kite lies slanting on the wind, and so the wind, in blowing right
along under it, crowds it up. That's what makes it go up.
Jenny. But what makes the kite lie slanting on the wind ?
Charles. I don't think you could understand that very well if
I were to explain it to you.
Jenny. I wish you would explain it to me, and let me try.
Charles. Why, it is owing to the way we fasten the strino- to
it. There is a peculiar way in fastening the string.
the wheelbarrow case.
73
Charles perceives Aleck and Top approaching. Their request.
Jenny. I don't think I do understand it very well. But look,
Arthur, look! See how high it is!
Arthur {pointing). Oo—oo!
Jenny. Do you see his tail, Arthur ? See what a long tail!
Do you think the kite is alive, Arthur ? It is not alive. Charles,
here are two more hoys coming, Top and Aleck.
Charles. I wonder what they are coming for. They took my
wheelbarrow to finish their dam. They have not had nearly time
to finish it yet. I suppose they have got tired of that work, and
Top is coming here to claim his kite again; but I sha'n't give it
to him, he may depend.
Jenny. Why, Charles ? Is not it his kite ?
Charles. Yes; but he lent it to me this afternoon. We ex¬
changed. I lent him my wheelbarrow, and he, to pay me, lent me
his kite. And now he has no right to come and take it away
again just because he has got tired of working with the wheelbar¬
row. I have a right to keep it all the afternoon.
Enter Top and Aleck.
Aleck. Charles, your wheelbarrow is broken.
Charles. No, the wheelbarrow is not broken; it is only one of
the sides that wants a little "fixing."
Aleck. Yes, and we want you to come and " fix" it, so that we
can use it.
Top. We've left it by the door of the shop. It only wants the
new cleat to be nailed on to the side, and you can do that in five
minutes. Aleck and I will stay here and hold the kite while you
74
THE WHEELBAEKOW CASE.
Charles declines to mend the wheelbarrow or give back the kite.
do it. We can't use the wheelbarrow at all till it is done, so you
must go.
Charles. No, I can't go very well. I am going to mend it
some rainy day or other, when I'm in the shop; hut I can't go
now very well. You must get along with it the best way you
can.
Top. But, Charles, I think you ought to go now, for we can't
use the wheelbarrow at all. The side keeps falling out, and then
all the gravel spills.
Charles. Then you must take lighter loads.
Top. Why, we can't take any loads at all when one of the
sides is out.
Charles. Why, yes you can. All that you have to do is to
heap the gravel up against the other side. The other side is good
and strong, and you can wheel pretty good loads in that way.
Aleck. But that makes the load all one-sided, and when we go
to wheel it, it tips over.
Charles. Well, you must manage it the best way you can. I
can't go and mend the side now; I want to fly the kite.
Top. Then, if you won't mend the wheelbarrow, you must give
me back my kite again.
Charles. No, you lent me your kite for all the afternoon.
Top. But I was to have the use of the wheelbarrow for it, and
I can't get any use out of the wheelbarrow as long as it is broken,
and so you ought to give me back the kite.
Charles. I tell you the wheelbarrow is not broken at all; it is
only one of the sides that is broken.
THE WHEELBARKOW CASE.
75
Charles's defense. The boys get into a dispute.
Top. Well, that is the same thing.
Charles. Oh no, it is a very different thing. A wheelbarrow
itself may be whole, and yet one of its sides be broken.
Aleck. It is the same to us, at any rate, for we can't use it at
all. You agreed that we should have the use of the wheelbarrow
this afternoon, and you was to have the use of the kite. Now,
you've got the use of the kite, and you ought to give us the use
of the wheelbarrow.
Top. Or else give me back my kite. If I can't use the wheel¬
barrow, you ought not to use my kite; so give it to me.
\Top walks toward Charles.
Charles (walking away, and holding the string up high). No,
it was a regular bargain for all the afternoon, and I'm going to
keep the kite. Indeed, you ought to let me have it two after¬
noons, to pay for breaking the side out of my wheelbarrow.
Top. Oh, Charles, we did not break it at all.
Charles. Why, the side was in when you took it, and it was in
strong enough to stay, if nobody touched it. Did not it stay in
till you wheeled it down to your dam, and began to shovel gravel
into it ?
Top. Why, yes ; but it was not in strong at all. It came out
just as soon as we began to shovel in the gravel.
Charles. Then you broke it shoveling in the gravel, and you
ought to let me have the kite longer to pay for that.
Top. Oh, Charles, that is not fair at all. So give me back my
kite. I don't want to have any thing more to do with you.
Charles {still holding the kite up high). No, Top ; but I'll tell
GIVE ME BACK MY KITE.
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
77
Charles proposes that Top should take Jenny's wagon.
you what you can do. You can get Jenny there to let you have
her wagon, and haul your gravel in that. It will hold more than
the wheelbarrow. [ Jenny shakes her head.
Top (looking toward the wagon). She won't let me have it.
Charles. Yes she will. She and Arthur can stay here and see
the kite. Arthur is very much amused with the kite. You will,
won't you, Jenny ?
Jenny. No, I should not be willing to have the boys put grav¬
el in this nice wagon.
Top. And, besides, I don't want the wagon; it would not be
good to haul gravel in. How could we get the gravel out when
we had hauled it to the dam ?
\Jenny begins to go away, drawing the wagon with her.
Charles. Oh, you could tip it over. You and Aleck could take
hold on one side under the wheels, and heave it all right over, just
where you wanted the gravel to fall.
Top. No, that would not do ; and, besides, Jenny won't let me
have it. She has gone away, for fear that we should want to
take it.
Charles. Then I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll leave it to any
1body you say whether I have not a right to keep the kite all the
afternoon.
Top. I'm willing that you should keep the kite, if you will only
go first and mend the wheelbarrow, so that I can use it.
Charles. Yes; but I think I've a right to the kite without
mending the wheelbarrow. Come, let's leave it to somebody.
Let's leave it to some of the boys.
78
the wheelbarrow case.
Top and Charles refer their controversy to an arbitrator.
Top. No, I won't leave it to any of the toys, but 111 leave it
to Mr. Hamilton.
Charles. Mr. Hamilton is not here.
Top. He is in his study. I'll go and find him myself, and ask
him what he thinks.
Charles. And will you tell him the case fairly ?
Top. Yes, I will. I will tell him the case as fairly as I pos¬
sibly can.
Charles. Yery well. I'll wait here till you come back.
\Top and Aleck go away.
Scene IY.
Mr. Hamilton. Afterward Aleck and Top.
A small library room. Mr. Hamilton at a desk studying a law book. He shuts
up the book and rises from his seat.
3£r. Hamilton. I begin to be tired. I have been studying now
two hours, and that is a long time to study without any rest. I
must go out and take a walk. I'll go and find the boys at their
play. They'll have some question for me to settle. They almost
always do wlien I come among them. I like to have them do it,
for I settle their questions on the same principles that the court
will settle such questions when I come to practice law. In six
months more I shall be admitted to the bar. Then I shall be a
great peacemaker. Lawyers are great peacemakers ; they spend
all their lives in settling disputes. (A knock is heard at the door.)
Come in.
the wheelbarrow case.
79
Plaintiffs and defendants. Top states his case.
Enter Top and Aleck.
Mr. Hamilton. Ah! boys, I'm very glad to see jou. You have
got a case for me, I suppose ?
Top. Yes, sir.
Mr. Hamilton. Very well; I shall be glad to hear it. Which
of you is plaintiff, and which defendant ?
Top. Why, we are both plaintiffs. It is Charles Williams that
we complain against.
Mr.Hamilton. Well, where is he? He ought to come too.
Top. Why, he left it to us to state the case. He could not
come very well; he is busy flying his kite.
Mr. Hamilton. Flying a kite! That seems hardly a sufficient
reason for not coming into court when he has a case on trial. But
never mind. Let's hear the story. What is it about ?
Top. The story is this. He and I agreed to exchange. He
agreed to lend me his wheelbarrow, and I lent him my kite. Well,
I gave him my kite, and he took it out into the field and began to
fly it, and he is flying it now. That is the reason why he would
not come here.
Mr. Hamilton. And did you take the wheelbarrow ?
Top. Yes, sir. Aleck and I took the wheelbarrow, and went
out to our dam; but we found we could not work with the wheel¬
barrow because it was broken.
Mr. Hamilton. How was it broken ?
Top. Why, one of the sides would not stay in, and we could
not load it. The side wants to be mended. The old cleat is worn
80
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
The contract. Movable property called chattels. A rule of law.
out, and there wants to be a new cleat. The cleat is all ready,
and the nails are ready, but Charles will not nail it on. He says
he is going to wait for a rainy day.
Mr. Hamilton. Did he tell you the wheelbarrow was broken
when he engaged to lend it to you ?
Top. No, sir, he did not say any thing about that. We thought
it was all in good order, or we should not have wanted it. We
can't use it at all.
Mr. Hamilton. And you let him have the use of your kite to
pay for the use of the wheelbarrow ?
Top. Yes, sir, that was the bargain.
Mr. Hamilton. Well, then, I should think" it was a case of
letting a chattel for hire.
Top. A chattel! what is that ?
Mr. Hamilton. Any movable piece of property. A horse, or
a boat, or a piano, or jewelry, or a book, is called a chattel. It is
a very convenient word. On the other hand, a house, or a gar¬
den, or a mill-dam is not a chattel. They are not movable. Tell
Charles that when a man lets any thing for hire, as, for instance,
a wagon, or any other chattel, it is his duty to keep it in good
condition for use, unless there is something said to the contrary.
So, if he lets a wagon, he is bound to keep the wagon in good run¬
ning condition, that is, provided he lets it for hire. If he lends his
wagon, that is, if he receives no pay for it, but only allows his
neighbor to take it as a favor, that is a different thing. But when
he takes money or any thing else as pay for the use of such a
thing, it is his duty to put it in such a condition that it can be
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
81
Was Charles paid for the use of the wheelbarrow.
used, and he is under obligation to maintain it in that condition
all the time.
Top. I was not going to pay him any thing for the wheelbar¬
row.
Mr. Hamilton. Not in money. You were not going to pay
him any money, but you were going to let him have the use of
your kite, which is a kind of pay. It was pay in the eye of the
law.
Top. In the eye of the law ?
Mr. Hamilton. Yes; that is, in effect and really. It was not
pay in name, but it was in fact; and the law disregards words and
names, and looks at things as they are in fact. You see that, al¬
though you did not say any thing about pay, yet in fact you paid
him for the wheelbarrow by letting him have your kite as a com¬
pensation for it.
Top. Yes, I did.
Mr. Hamilton. And that, I think, made it obligatory on him to
furnish his wheelbarrow in good working order. I think, there¬
fore, that he either ought to mend the wheelbarrow, so that you
can use it, or else give you back your kite.
Top. Well, I'll go back and tell him so. Come, Aleck.
Mr. Hamilton. But, then, it is hardly fair to decide the case
when he has not been here to speak for his side; so that, if he is
not satisfied with the decision, he must come here himself, and let
me hear what he has to say about it.
Top. Well, I'll tell him so, Mr. Hamilton.
[Top and Aleck go out.
82
the wheelbarrow case.
Orkney comes in, advice to the boys.
Scene V.
Top, Aleck. Afterward Orkney.
A yard with buildings around it. On one side a shop, with the wheelbarrow
before the door. Top and Aleck are standing near the wheelbarrow.
Top. We'll leave the wheelbarrow here till we go and tell
Charles what Mr. Hamilton said.
Aleck. Yes; but what do you think he will do ? Will he come
and mend the wheelbarrow, or will he give up the kite ?
Top. I don't know. But look! here comes Orkney.
Enter Orkney.
Orkney. Well, boys, are you going to work ?
Aleck. Yes, if Charles will come and mend the wheelbarrow
for us. The wheelbarrow is broken.
Orkney. Did you break it ?
Aleck. No, it was broken before. You see, Top and Charles
Williams made a bargain. Top agreed to lend Charles his kite,
and Charles was to lend us his wheelbarrow to finish our dam
with; but, when we tried to use it, we could not do any thing
because it was broken, and then Charles would not either mend
the wheelbarrow or give us back the kite.
Orkney. I think he ought to do either the one or the other.
Aleck. So Mr. Hamilton says, and that is what we are going
to tell him now.
Orkney. It seems to me I would not go and tell him.
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
83
It is not always wise to claim extreme rights;
Top. Why not ? That's what he ought to do.
Orkney. That's true; I think it is right enough that he should
come and mend the wheelbarrow. But, then, if people are not
willing to do what is right, it is not always best to force them to
do it. Sometimes it is best to force them, and sometimes it is
not.
Aleck. How can we tell, then, when it is best and when it is
not?
Orkney. I don't know that I can explain that. Only some¬
times I have a feeling that, when people are unjust, and are not
willing to do what is right, it is best to yield to them, and not
insist upon it. Sometimes we have rights that it makes more
trouble and difficulty to insist upon than it does for us to give
them up; but I don't know of any rule by which we can tell when
it is best to give up our rights, and when it is best to insist upon
them.
Aleck. But, Orkney, we can't do any thing at all with the
wheelbarrow until it is mended.
Orkney. Then let us go and mend it ourselves. There is not
much to do, is there ? I'll help.
Aleck {in a tone of great satisfaction). Well, if you will help
us, we can mend it very nicely.
Orkney. Let me see. (lie looks at the side of the wheelbar¬
row.') It wants a new cleat.
Top. Yes, and the cleat is all ready. It only wants nailing
on. The cleat is in the shop.
Orkney. We want some nails; and they must be softened by
84
the wheelbarkow case.
Orkney promises to mend the 'wheelbarrow. Announcing the decision.
being heated in the fire, so that they will clinch well. Cut nails
will not clinch till they are softened.
Aleck. The nails are all ready too. We might have nailed the
cleat on ourselves, only we were afraid that we should split the
cleat. The wood almost always splits when I nail any thing.
Orkney. I will show you how to manage that. We must first
bore holes, and then, if we put the nails in right, there will be, no
danger of splitting. Come, bring the wheelbarrow into the shop,
and I'll show you all about it.
\Orkney goes into the shop, and the boys follow him, carrying
the wheelbarrow.
Scene VI.
Chakles, Aleck, Top, and other boys.
The same yard as in the first scene. It is about sunset. ' Aleck and Top are
sitting on the edge of the platform. Charles is seen coming in through a
gate, bringing the kite with him. Other boys with bats and a ball.
Charles (addressing Tojp and Aleck as he comes up to them).
Well, boys, so Mr. Hamilton decided against you?
Aleck. No, he decided for us.
Charles. Did he ?
Aleck. Yes, he decided in our favor.
Charles. In your favor! I thought, by your not coming back,
that he decided against you.
Top. No, he said that, as I paid you for the use of the wheel¬
barrow by letting you have my kite, you were bound to have it in
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
85
Conversation between Charles, and Top, and Aleck.
good order. He said that, if you had lent it to me for nothing,
that would have Tbeen a different thing; but as I hired it of you
on the understanding that I could use it, you ought to have it in
good order.
Charles. Then why did not you come back and tell me ?
Top. Oh, we did not care much. Orkney was there, and he
said he would help us mend the wheelbarrow ourselves, and so we
thought we would.
Charles. Then I'm afraid you have split the cleat driving nails.
I truly am.
Aleck. No, we have not split it in the least. The nails went in
elegantly, and they have clinched too very strong. Orkney show¬
ed us how to point the nails, and how to drive them. He says a
carriage-maker could not have done it better.
Charles. Then I am very much obliged to you for mending it,
I'm sure. And have you finished your dam ?
Aleck. Yes, we have finished the dam and raised the water.
We are next going to make some wharves.
Charles. And would not you like to use my wheelbarrow in
making the wharves ?
Top. Perhaps we should.
Charles. Well, you may have it any time you want it. In¬
deed, you are entitled to have it again, to pay for the time you lost
in mending it this afternoon.
Top. We should like to have it again very much. And did
you have a good time with the kite ?
Charles. Excellent. I found every thing about it in good or-
86
THE WHEELBARROW CASE.
Charles concludes to make tassels for Top's kite.
der, and, now that I think more of it, I see that I ought to have
mended the wheelbarrow before I went out. I knew that you
could not use it with the side broken. I'll tell you what I will
do. Your kite is a splendid one, but it would look better with
larger tassels at the corners and at the end of the tail.
Top. Why ? Does not it balance well ?
Charles. Yes, it balances very well indeed, and it goes perfect¬
ly well as it is now, but it would look better with larger and hand¬
somer tassels. Now I've got some large sheets of tissue paper,
just right for making tassels. I've got some sheets of pink, and
some of green. The two kinds together will make splendid tas¬
sels, and I'll make you some.
Top (<dapping his hands). I shall like that very much indeed.
They will be beautiful.
Charles. I'll make two for the kite, and one for the end of the
tail. I'll get up early, and make them the first thing to-morrow
morning.
all against the grain.
87
Scene in the breakfast-room. Tim comes in with a letter.
IV.
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
PEBBONS.
Arabella, a bride.
George, her husband.
Mrs. Thomas, her mother.
Jane, Arabella's sister.
Tim, a small black boy.
Susanna, a domestic.
Orkney.
Top.
Scene I.
Geokge, Arabella, Tim.
A pleasant parlor. Table at which George and Arabella have been taking
breakfast. George is sitting by the fire, and is opening a newspaper. Ara¬
bella is sauntering toward the window in a listless manner.
George. Now I will see if there is any news in the morning pa¬
per. There ought to "be news from Europe to-day.
Enter Tim, with a note.
Tim. Here's a letter for you, missis. m
Arabella (faking the note and breaking the seal). Ah! it's from
the Collamores. [She reads.
"Dear Arabella,
" I wished very much to see you again before leaving town, and
should have come in last evening, but we were detained at home
by company till past ten. We leave early this morning. We shall
88
all against the grain.
An invitation. What Arabella said about it. Explanation.
have some repairs to make to our house, which^ will occupy about
a week, my husband says, and after that we are depending on
having you come and make us a little visit. I shall write you
again, however, soon after I get home. In haste, but yours as
ever, Mary. "
George. That's a nice little note.
Arabella. I think she might have called to see me.
George. Why, she could not leave her company, you know,
last evening, and she went away too early this morning.
Arabella (looking at the note again). A little visit 1 I don't
think she need have taken so much pains to remind me that I must
not stay too long.
George. Oh, Arabella, I'm sure she did not mean that. It is
a common phrase to ask a person to come and make a little visit.
Mary could not possibly have intended you to understand her to
mean that the visit was to be only a little one.
Arabella. That is what she says, at any rate—a little visit.
Besides, I think that, after all our long friendship, I might have
expected something more than common phrases, as you call them,
from Mary.
George. I did not mean formal phrases, Bella dear; I meant
common language, the language that is commonly used in such a
case in giving an invitation. I think she meant that note for a
good cordial invitation. You see she was in haste, for it was after
ten, and very likely there was her packing to finish, and they were
to set out early this morning. I think, under all the circum-
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
89
Arabella always finds trouble wherever she can.
stances, it was quite a mark of attention that she wrote to you at
all. Don't you think so yourself, now ?
Arabella (looking very sorrowful). I should not think, George,
that you would take Mary's part against me. The time was once
when you always took my part; but you seem so changed!
\_8he sighs deeply.
George (laying down his paper, and going toward Arabella).
Why, Belle, my dear child, I'm not taking any body's part against
you; I'm taking your part. {He stoops down over her, and kiss¬
es her forehead?) I want to prevent your feeling unhappy. You
think that Mary's note indicates a want of affection, and that-
makes you feel unhappy. Now I only want to show you that it
does not indicate a want of affection, so as to prevent your feeling
unhappy. Is not that taking your part ? I'm sure I thought it
was, and meant it so.
Arabella. I don't think you can judge of these things. A thou¬
sand things have a meaning in the notes that ladies write to each
other, and in what they do, that men know nothing about. They
can't understand them at all. A man's feelings are not so deli¬
cate, and you don't care half so much about each other as ladies do.
George. I confess that I don't think that a man, if he was a
sensible man, would take offense against an old and tried friend
merely because in a note he invited him to come and make him a
little visit.
Arabella. That is as much as to say I am not sensible, and I
think it is very unkind in you to talk so to me—very unkind in¬
deed.
90
all against the grain.
The bride's grief. A new trouble. The Christmas-tree.
George. Why, my dear Arabella—
Arabella (interrupting him, and turning her face away). I
don't want to hear you call me your dear Arabella when you feel
so toward me. It don't mean any thing.
[She puts her handkerchief to her eyes. George turns round
and walks back to the fire, takes his paper again, and sits
down. Arabella remains motionless a moment, and then
gets up and walks out of the room.
George. What can I do ? She takes every thing in a wrong
sense, and the more I try to explain, the more the matter gets en¬
tangled.
Scene II.
Arabella, Tim.
A back parlor. Arabella is sitting by the fire, sewing.
Arabella. They are going to have a Christmas-tree at moth¬
er's, and they have not invited me. I'm no longer of any conse¬
quence at home now, since I am married. They don't come to
ask me to help them in any of their plans. I've a great mind to
have a Christmas-tree of my own, only I don't know where I
should get presents enough to fill it. I might set up a tree, and
then invite people to send in presents for each other, to hang on
it. I suppose, in that case, that some of the presents would be for
me. They would be, if people had any sort of delicacy; but they
have so little! {She looks out of the window.) What a pleas¬
ant day! I've a great mind to go and take a ride. I might have
all against the grain.
91
Arabella calls for the horse. Tim's account of him.
the horse harnessed, and go to the store and get George. He could
not refuse to go with me, if I should actually go for him at the
store. But I don't know that the horse is here. It seems to me
that George said something about sending him away.
[/She rises, and rings a bell.
Enter Tim.
Tim. Did you ring, missis ?
Arabella. Certainly I did. Do you think that my hell would
sound unless I rang it ?
Tim. No, Miss Bella, I should not think it would.
Arabella. How many times must I tell you, Tim, that I am
not Miss Bella any longer ? I am Mrs. Alden. Don't you know
that I am married ?
Tim. Yes, missis.
Arabella. Well, I think you are a very stupid thing. I want
you to tell me about the horse. Do you know where the horse is ?
Tim (brightening up). Yes, missis, I know.
Arabella (patiently). Well, where is he ?
Tim {grinning). He is right before the kitchen fire. Patience
has got all the clothes on him.
Arabella. Before the kitchen fire! The boy's a fool. Do you
think I mean the clothes-horse ? What should I want of the
clothes-horse ?
Tim. Oh, you mean the four-legged horse. I thought you
meant the clothes-horse, but now I suppose you mean the four-
legged horse ?
92
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
Sawing an exercise. A provoking boy. The bam-horse.
Arabella. Yes, to take a ride.
Tim. Yes, missis, he is in the shed.
Arabella. In the shed ? You mean in the barn.
Tim. No, missis, he "be in the shed.
Arabella. How came he there ?
Tim. Why, Massa George left him there.
Arabella. Left him in the shed! What did he do that for?
Is he fastened there to a post ?
Tim. No, missis, he is not fastened. He is standing there all
by himself on the chips. Massa left him there this morning after
he got done sawing his exercise.
Arabella {contemptuously). Sawing his exercise! You mean
the saw-horse. It is not the saw-horse that I want to know about,
you stupid little fool.
Tim (pretending to look terrified). Why, missis, I thought it
was the saw-horse.
Arabella. No, you did not, Tim. It is no such thing. You
knew I did not mean the saw-horse, for I said the horse to ride.
Tim. Well, missis, you can ride on the saw-horse. Bobby
took a ride on him the other day, and he said he had a very
good ride indeed. But if you mean the barn-horse, he is not in
the barn at all.
Arabella. Where is he ?
Tim. Massa sent him away to the farm.
Arabella. What in the name of wonder did he do that for ? It
is very provoking I The first morning that I take a fancy to have
a ride, I find that the horse has been sent away to the farm.
all against the grain.
93
Why Mr. Alden had sent the horse to the farm.
( Turning to Tim again.) What possessed Mr. Alden to send the
horse away just as I wanted him ?
Tim,. Please, missis, he told us you said the horse disturbed
you in the night Tby being in the barn, for sometimes you heard
him stamping, and so he sent him away. But he said it was not
far, and whenever you wanted him you could have him.
Arabella {moodily). It is very provoking I And you are very
provoking too. I am perfectly convinced that you knew from the
beginning what horse I was inquiring for, and I think you deserve
a good whipping, and so you may go away.
Tim {aside, as he goes out). If every body gets a whipping that
makes trouble by taking words in the sense that people don't mean,
then, says I—but what then ? Who knows ?
Scene III.
Mrs. Thomas, Aeabella, Jane.
A pleasant morning in winter. A road. Arabella, coming one way, meets
Mrs. Thomas and Jane coming the other.
Mrs. Thomas. Ah! Arabella, my dear child, how glad I am to
meet you! We were going to your house.
Arabella. I did not know what had become of you. I have
not seen you for ever so long. Have you been sick ?
Jane. Sick! No indeed. Why, Arabella, it was only yester¬
day morning that I was at your house.
Arabella. Well, at any rate, it seems to me that you hardly
ever come to see me. It makes it very lonesome for me. How-
94
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
Conversation between Arabella and her mother and sister.
ever, it is what I ought to expect. When any body gets married,
they must expect that their old friends will forget them.
Mrs. Thomas. Oh, nonsense, Arabella, we have not forgotten
you at all. We were coming now to tell you about our Christmas-
tree. We are going to have a Christmas-tree to amuse the chil¬
dren, and we thought that perhaps you would like to come.
Christmas is day after to-morrow.
Arabella. And so you reckon me among the children. Well,
that is very' complimentary to a married lady.
Jane. No, sister, that is not what mother meant. She meant
that we thought you would like to come and help us amuse the
children. We have been making up some little presents for them
to put upon the tree, and the tree itself is to come this afternoon.
Mother and I have been very busy with the presents.
Arabella. And I suppose you have got them all ready. I could
not have helped you make them, for I have no taste or skill in do¬
ing such things ; so it is well you did not let me know about it be¬
fore. I should only have been in the way, I know that very well.
Mrs. Thomas. No, Arabella, not at all. You can make such
things as well as any body. We did not think of the plan until
yesterday afternoon, and we came right over this morning to tell
you about it.
Arabella. I wish you could have the tree at my house." We
never have any thing of the kind at our house. There's only my
husband and myself there, and there is nothing ever going on. I
get so tired and so lonesome sometimes that I don't know what
to do.
ALL AGAINST THE GEAIN.
95
Arabella persists in misunderstanding what they say.
Jane. Well, Arabella, we'll have it at your house. Won't we,
mother ? We can have it there just as well as not.
Mrs. Thomas. Yes, we shall like it exactly as well. They have
gone for the tree, and I'll send it over as soon as it comes.
Jane. And I'll "bring over the presents that we have got ready,
and you shall help us arrange them. You may come with me and
help me bring them, or you may go to your house, and I will come
and bring them myself.
Arabella. I'll go home and wait till you come, as it is plain you
do not wish to have me go with you.
Jane. On the contrary, I should like to have you go with me
very much, if you are willing. I thought perhaps you might pre¬
fer to go home and wait for me there; but I should like very much
indeed to have you go with me, and then you can help me bring
the things.
Arabella. And so the reason why you want me to go with you
is not for the sake of my company, but only so that I may help
you bring the things.
Mrs. Thomas. Oh, Arabella, what a child you are! You take
every thing in a cross and contrary sense, all against the grain, as
if it was a pleasure to you to make out that what is said is some¬
thing disagreeable.
96
all against the grain.
Conversation between Jane and Arabella about Louisa.
* Scene IY.
Arabella, Jane. Afterward Susanna.
A chamber in Mrs. Thomas's house. In the middle of the floor is a table cov¬
ered with little baskets, bags, toys, small parcels of confectionery, and other
fancy articles suitable for a Christmas-tree.. Jane is standing near a bu¬
reau, and showing Arabella more articles of the same kind.
Jane. Most of these things we "bought at the toy-shop in the
village last evening; but some of them we made. We put up all
these little articles of confectionery and bonbons, each parcel in a
little separate paper.
Arabella. Did you do them all yourselves ?
Jane. Yes, we and cousin Sarah. Cousin Sarah came in to
help us. I sent for Louisa Jarvis to come too, "but she did not
come. I had a good opportunity to send by Susanna, who was
going over there, and so I wrote her a little note to tell her of our
plan, and ask her if she would help us.
Arabella. And what answer did she send ?
Jane. She did not send any answer at all.
Arabella. Why not ?
Jane. I don't know. Susanna said that she read the note, and
then said that there was no answer.
Arabella. So it seems that she did not think it was worth while
to take any notice of your note ?
Jane. Oh no, I don't think it was that; I think there must be
some mistake.
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
97
Arabella thinks Louisa intended a slight upon Jane.
Arabella. Why, how can there be any mistake ? Susanna saw
her read the note, I suppose, and then she said there was no an¬
swer ; that seems to Ibe very plain. I should think it was a great
slight.
Jane. Oh no ; I'll wait till I know more about it "before I con¬
clude that it was a slight. Things very often seem quite different
from what they really are, especially when messages go back and
forth by such girls as Susanna. We ought not to be too easy to
take offense, but wait till we know exactly how the case is.
Arabella. I am not easy to take offense at all, but I like prop¬
er spirit, and I don't think you have any spirit at all.
Jane (laughing). Why, you see, I don't like to be offended with
people. It is a disagreeable feeling; so I always put it off as
long as I can.
Arabella. Was that all that Susanna said when she came back
from Louisa's, just that there was not any answer to the note you
sent her ?
Jane. No; I believe there was something about Louisa's say¬
ing that she did not know much about Christmas-trees.
Arabella. And for that reason she would not have any thing
to do with yours?
Jane. Oh no, she did not say that.
Arabella. That was what she must have meant.
Jane. No, I can't think that she meant that. It is not at all
like Louisa to send me such a message as that, or on.e that could
possibly have that meaning; and I shall not believe that she did
so until I know more certainly. I am going tq wait till I see her.
30 Gr
98
all against the grain.
Friends should not let their faith be easily shaken.
Arabella. I don't see what possible interpretation you can put
upon her message except that.
Jane. Nor do I at present; but there may be some one that you
and I do not see yet, but which we may see by-and-by. I was a
little surprised when Susanna came back with that answer, but
then I have no doubt but there is some explanation that will
make it all right. A faithful friend is one that is steady and true.
I want to be a faithful friend to Louisa, and I must hold my faith
in her, firm and good, and not let it fail and fall away at the first
appearance of any thing strange or unaccountable.
Arabella. All that is very fine talk, no doubt; but, for my part,
I like to see a little spirit. Here comes Susanna now. I mean
to ask her all about it.
Enter Susanna, bringing a note.
Susanna. A note for you, Miss Jane.
Arabella. Is it from Louisa ?
Jane (taking the note and opening it). No, it is from cousin
Sarah. I thought it very likely that it was from Louisa, but it is
not; it is only about some ribbon that I asked cousin Sarah to
get. She says that she could not find any blue, but she has got
some pink, and that will do just as well.
Arabella. She might have found blue just as well, if she had
really been interested in searching for it.
Jane. Ah! but pink will do just as well.
Arabella. Susanna, what was it that Louisa said in answer to
the note you carried her last evening ? Did she send back word
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
99
Susanna gives the ladies a full account of the errand.
that she did not know any thing about Christmas-trees, and that
she should not send back any answer ?
Susanna. Oh no, Miss Arabella, she did not send that word to
Miss Jane.
Jane. Why, I understood you, Susanna, that she said she did
not know much about Christmas-trees ?
Susanna. Yes, Miss Jane, she said that, but she did not send
that word to you. That was what she said to her father.
Arabella. To her father ?
Susanna. You see, when I gave her the note, she was just get¬
ting into the chaise to go away somewhere with her father.
Jane. Well, and what then ?
Susanna. Why, she read the note, and then she told her father
what it was about. She said that you were going to have a
Christmas-tree, and that she was very glad, for she did not know
much about Christmas-trees, but she wanted to learn, and that
now she should have a good opportunity.
Jane. Oh, that's a very different thing.
Arabella. Yes; but wait. What else did she say, Susanna ?
Tell us all about it.
Susanna. At first she was going to give up her ride and come
over here immediately, but her father said she had better go on,
and so come over here as soon as she got back.
Arabella. Was she going out of town ?
Susanna. Yes, she was just going out of town to spend the
night, and coming back again this morning. She was going to
her cousin's, and was expected there to tea.
100
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
Why Louisa sent no note. Arabella finds a new trouble.
Arabella {after a pause). Well, that's all very plausible; but
it seems to me very strange that she did not send you even a mes¬
sage. She ought, indeed, to have written you a note.
Susanna. Her father asked her if she did not wish to send a
message, and she said no, she could not explain it very well, and
you would know, she said, that she would help you about your
Christmas-tree, all that she possibly could, just as well as if she
sent a hundred messages.
Jane. But, Susanna, why did not you tell me all this before,
when you first came home ?
Susanna. Why, you did not ask me any questions about it at
all; and, besides, I asked Miss Lo-uisa if I should give you any
message, and she said no. Just tell her, said she, that you gave
me the note, and she will understand.
Jane. Well, Susanna, that is all. You may go now.
\_Susanna goes out, but in a moment comes back again.
Susanna. There is Miss Louisa's brother coming now, Miss
Jane. He is just coming in at the gate, bringing a basket full of
things. [,Susanna goes out.
Jane {looking pleased). I thought it would all come right in
the end.
Arabella. That's the way you triumph over me. You always
like to triumph over me, and to make me out to be in the wrong,
and I do believe that you love Louisa a great deal better than
you do me.
Jane (putting her arm around her and kissing her). Oh no,
Bella dear, I did not mean to triumph over you at all, and I don't
all against the grain.
101
Orkney in the shop making a ballot-box.
love any body in the world better than I do you, and I don't think
I ever shall—at least, not until I have a husband, as you have.
Scene Y.
Orkney, Top, other boys. Afterward Mr. Hamilton.
A small shop used by the boys of a school. Orkney is at work at a bench, put¬
ting together the parts of a box that he is making. At another bench, Top
is trying to plane a board. Other boys at work in various parts of the shop.
Top. Is it a box that you are making, Orkney ?
Orkney. Yes, a ballot-box.
Top. What is it for ?
Orkney. It is to take the votes with in our society. As soon
as I get all the parts of the box properly fitted together, I shall
glue it, and then, when the glue is dry, it will be done; and glad
shall I be when it is done.
Top. Why ? Don't you like to make it ?
Orkney. Yes, I like to make it, but we are always glad when
a thing is done, even in cases where the making of it gives us
pleasure.
Top (coming to the place where Orkney is at loork). Let me
see. What a pretty box! What is this part for ?
Orkney. That is the top.
Top. And what is this hole in it for ?
Orkney. That is to put the balls in at. You see we have black
balls and white balls, and when we are voting, to choose new mem¬
bers, we put in a white ball if we mean Yes, and a black ball if
we mean No. Then the president opens the box, and counts the
102
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
Voting. Top's troubles with the tools. Against the grain.
balls, and if there are as many as three "black balls, or more, then
the new member is not chosen. That is what they call black-ball¬
ing a candidate.
Top. Well, I'll tell you what, if any body puts in any black
balls when they are voting for me, I'll—I'll—-pound 'em. {lie
goes back to his work, and attempts again to plane the board, but
the plane continually clogs and catches. Presently he stops in
despair.) Orkney, I can't plane this board at all. There is some¬
thing or other the matter with it, or else with the plane. It clogs,
and hobbles, and hitches, and sticks all the time, and I can't do
any thing with it.
Orkney. I'll come and see.
\IIe rises, and goes to the place where Top is at work.
Top. See! the plane is all choked up, and the board is rough¬
er where I have planed it than where I have not.
Orkney. Ah! I see what the trouble is. You are going against
the grain. Look! you have placed the board so that you are go¬
ing against the grain. Turn your board end for end, and you will
find that the plane will run as glibly and smooth as a draw shave.
Top. Well, I'll try it. {He turns his board, and, after clear¬
ing his plane, he begins to plane again.) Yes, Orkney, it goes
very well now.
Orkney. I'm glad of it.
Top (planing). Ah ! how nicely it goes! And the part that
I have planed, how smooth it feels! Just come here a minute,
Orkney, and feel of the board, to see how smooth it is.
Orkney. I can tell by the sound of the plane that it is working
all against the grain.
103
Slight circumstances make a great difference. Mr. Hamilton's request.
smoothly now, but I can not come very well, for I have Tbegun my
gluing, and the glue will get cold if I leave it. I will come pres¬
ently.
Top. But, Orkney, I should not think it would make such a
great difference, just taking the board one end foremost instead of
the other.
Orkney. Oh! it makes all the difference you can conceive, which
end foremost you take things in this world. Some people take
hold of every thing at the wrong end, and Iby the rough handle,
and so they are always in difficulty with every thing and every
body around them.
Top. Are there really such people as that ?
Orkney. Yes, plenty of them. They take every thing against
the grain, just as you tried to plane your board just now.
Enter Mr. Hamilton, with two letters in his hand.
Mr. Hamilton. Boys, I want one of you to do an errand for
me.
Orkney (laying down his work, and rising up suddenly). Yes,
sir, I'll go.
Mr. Hamilton. I want you to take these two letters to Mrs.
Alden's—though they are not really letters ; they are packages of
little pictures, six in each. They are for Mrs. Alden's Christmas-
tree. Take them to her house, and give them to her. They are
for little presents, to go upon the tree. Tell her she can put some
sort of a string through the corner of them, and hang them upon
one of the branches. I met her and her sister Jane going to her
104
all against the grain.
Mr. Hamilton's pictures for the Christmas-tree. The message sent.
house a short time ago, and I promised to send some little thing
or other for the tree.
Top. The children will like the pictures very much.
Mr. Hamilton. Let me show them to you.
[He takes the pictures out of the envelopes, and spreads them
out upon the work-bench. The boys gather around to look
at them, and appear to admire them very much. Mr. Ham¬
ilton then puts them back into the envelopes, and hands them
to Orkney.
Orkney. They are very pretty indeed.
Mr. Hamilton. And if you will take them to Mrs. Alden, I will
be very much obliged to you. Tell her that they are not of much
value, but perhaps they will answer for the occasion.
Orkney. Yes, sir. I'll take them there, and I'll tell her.
\Mr. Hamilton goes out.
Top. Let me go too. I'll go with you, Orkney.
Orkney. Very well. I shall like your company very much in¬
deed.
Scene VI.
Arabella, Jane. Afterward Orkney, Top, and Tim.
A small back parlor in Mrs. Alden's house. A table by the window. The table
is covered with articles for the Christmas-tree, and there are baskets filled
with other articles in various parts of the room. Arabella and Jane are
opening a basket.
Jane. I think it will be a very pretty tree. We have got a
great many things to put upon it.
all against the gkain.
105
Waiting for Louisa. Orkney and Top approaching the house.
Arabella. It seems to me it is time to begin to put the things
on the tree. I'll go and tell Tim to bring the tree in; it is lying
on the back piazza. I'll get him to bring it in, and then we will
set it up immediately.
Jane. Tell him to take good care of the top of the tree, for that
is very frail, and if it gets broken off, that will spoil the beauty
of it.
Arabella. Yes, I will. [She goes out.
Jane {continuing to take the things out of the basket). What
pretty things these are that Louisa has sent us! It is almost time
for her to come herself. She said that she would be here a little
after three, and it is three now. I will go and see if she is not
coming. [She goes to the window and looks out.
Enter Arabella.
Arabella. Tim is going to bring in the tree directly.
Jane. I was looking out to see if I could see Louisa coming.
It is time for her.
Arabella. Do you see her?
Jane. No ; but here are two boys coming. One of them is Ork¬
ney. There is another boy coming with him—one of the school¬
boys, I suppose.
Arabella. Yes ; they are bringing me something from Mr. Ham¬
ilton. I met him in the street, and I told him about the Christ¬
mas-tree, and asked him to send us something. He said he had not
much talent for making needle-books, and pin-cushions, and fan¬
cy boxes, but he would see if he could not find something to send.
106 all against the grain.
The boys enter with their message. Looking at the pictures.
Enter Orkney and Top. They bow politely to the ladies.
Arabella. Well, boys, you have got some letters, I see. Are
they for me ?
Orkney. They are little packages of pictures that Mr. Hamilton
has sent to he put upon your Christmas-tree. He says that the
pictures are of no great value, "but perhaps they will answer for
the occasion.
Arabella. That is as much as to say that he considers the oc¬
casion of our Christmas-tree as of very little consequence.
Top. Oh no, Mrs. Alden, he did not mean that at all—I am
sure he did not. Besides, the pictures are really very pretty; he
showed them to us.
Arabella. How many are there?
Top. There are two packages, with six pictures in each pack¬
age ; that makes twelve pictures in all.
Arabella. Let us take them out and look at them.
[.Arabella takes out the pictures and spreads them on the table,
and, while she and the others with her are looking at them,
with their backs turned toward the door, Tim comes to the
door with the Christmas-tree, dragging it top foremost. The
branches on each side catch against the side of the door, and
are drawn out, and so stop his progress ; he tugs at the tree,
but the more he pulls, the more the branches spread, and he
is soon stopped entirely. There is a door in the way, so
that Arabella and the others, who are looking at the pictures,
do not see him.
108
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
Arabella's impoliteness. Tim's trouble with the tree in the doorway.
Top. Don't you think they are pretty pictures ?
Arabella. Yes, they'll do very well. Some of the children will
like them, I dare say. They are better than nothing. What can
Tim be about in the entry ?
Top. I think they are very pretty indeed.
Arabella. But, Top, it is not polite to praise your own presents.
Did not you know that ?
Top. They are not my presents, Mrs. Alden, they are Mr. Ham¬
ilton's presents.
Arabella. Well, that is pretty much the same thing, since you
are one of his scholars. What a noise Tim makes there with the
tree!
Top. Mr. Hamilton knew very well that it would not be polite
to praise his own presents, and that was the reason why he sent
word that the pictures were of no great value.
Orkney. Yes, Mrs. Alden, I am sure that that was what he
meant, and that he did not mean to undervalue your Christmas-
tree at all.
*
Tim. Miss Arabella, I can't get this tree in through the door;
it's too big.
Arabella. Too big! No, it is not too big.
[She turns to look at Tim. The rest follow her.
Orkney. Why, Tim, you've got it wrong end foremost. There's
a smooth way and a contrary way with a Christmas-tree as well
as with every thing else, and you've got it the contrary way.
Arabella. Did ever any one see such a stupid thing? One
would think he was a fool.
all against the grain.
109
Orkney brings it in right. The tree planted. Conversation with Tim.
Tim. Is not this the right way, Miss Bella ? You told me to
be careful of the top of it, and so I thought I would bring the top
of it in first.
Orkney. Let me take it. I'll turn it round end for end, and
then it will come in very easily. Help me, Top.
\Orkney and Top turn the tree round in the entry, and then
bring it in without any difficulty.
Arabella. There's the block for it in the corner, boys. See if
you can set it up in the block.
\Orkney and Top set the tree ujp in the block, and then go out.
Scene YII.
Orkney, Top, and Tim.
The yard behind Mrs. Alden's house. Orkney, Top, and Tim are coming out
of the door.
Top. I should have thought you would have known better,
Tim, than to have tried to take the tree in the contrary way of
the branches. You might have known that it would get stuck
in the doorway and make a difficulty, and that you would get a
scolding.
Tim. Well, now, I thought that that would please Miss Bella
exactly, for she always likes a difficulty, and she takes every thing
herself a contrary way. \_He runs off laughing.
Top. What a rogue he is! He did it on purpose, I verily be¬
lieve.
Orkney. Likely as not.
110
ALL AGAINST THE GRAIN.
Mrs. Alden's characteristic. "Why Orkney did not tell her what he thought.
Top. Is it true, as he says, that Mrs. Alden is always taking
things in a wrong sense, so as to get a difficulty out of them,
when there is no need of it ?
Orkney. Yes, she certainly does.
Top. Why didn't you tell her, then, what you told me in the
shop about planing against the grain ?
Orkney. Mrs. Alden is a married lady. I can talk to little
girls sometimes; but when a lady is old enough to be married,
she is generally too old to learn.
Top. Oh, Orkney, what an impolite speech!
Orkney. At least she is too old to learn of boys like me.
playing cat and dog.
Ill
The boys in the shop. Orkney took a pleasure in mending, Martin in breaking.
y.
PLAYING CAT AND DOQ.
PERSONS.
Orkney, \
Aleck, > boys of the school.
Martin, )
Jenny, a little girl.
Arthur, a baby.
Scene I.
Orkney, Aleck, Martin.
A small shop. Orkney is at work mending a wheelbarrow near the door of
the shop. Aleck and Martin are near him, looking on. Martin has a whip
in his hand.
Aleck. What are you mending the wheelbarrow for, Orkney ?
For any thing particular?
Orkney. Yes, for fun.
Aleck. That is not any thing particular.
Orkney. By fun, I mean for the pleasure of it. Don't you think
that is something particular ?
Aleck. No, that is not what I meant. I mean, are you going
to do any thing with it after you have mended it ?
Orkney. Not that I know of. I saw that it was broken, and I
thought I might as well amuse myself in mending it as in any
other way. I like to mend things.
Martin (snapping his whip about). And I like to break things.
Orkney. Yes, some boys do.
112
playing cat and dog.
A difference of years. The whip. The game at horses.
Aleck. It's a difference of taste.
Orkney. No, it's more a difference of years. The younger "boys
are more likev babies, the more they like to break things. All ba¬
bies like to break things. But when boys grow up and become
almost men, then they don't like to see things broken, and they
don't like to break them; they like better, to mend them. The
reason why Martin likes to break rather than mend is because he
is a little boy.
Martin. I am not a little boy.
\He snaps his whip about violently.
Aleck. Don't snap your whip about so much, Martin; you will
hit me, next thing.
Orkney. And me too. You'd better go out in the yard to play.
Aleck. Yes, let's go, Martin.
Martin. Well, we will. [ They leave Orkney and go out.
Scene II.
Jenny, Arthur. Afterward Aleck and Martin.
The yard. A smooth gravel walk around the margin of it. Jenny comes in
through a gate from the garden, drawing Arthur in a little wagon.
Jenny. Now, Arthur, we will play that we are going along the
turnpike road to Boston. This shall be Boston, out in this corner.
Arthur. Whoa! whoa!
Jenny. No, we will play that the shop is Boston. There are
some boys in the shop; we will play that they are the people.
Ah! here are two of the boys coming out.
playing cat and dog.
113
Aleck and Martin at play. The ball bounces over the fence.
Enter Aleck and Martin from the shop.
Aleck. Halloa, Jenny, are you taking Arthur to ride ?
Jenny. Yes; I've been drawing him all about the garden, and
now I've come here.
Martin. Well, you must keep out of our way, for Aleck and I
are going to play here.
Aleck. What shall we play ?
Martin. I don't know. What shall we ?
Aleck. Suppose we play ball; I've got a ball.
Martin. But it is a good for nothing old thing.
Aleck. I say it isn't; it is a very good ball.
Martin. Two great rips in it, and the inside soaked all full of
water!
Aleck. It is not full of water at all; it got wet a little yester¬
day, but I dried it last night.
Martin. I tell you, you can't dry a ball in a night when it gets
wet through.
Aleck. I tell you I can, for I dried mine.
[He takes his ball out of his pocket, and shows it to Martin.
Martin takes it and bounces it on the ground. The ball
goes over the fence into the garden.
Martin. I don't believe it is half dry.
Aleck. It is dry, or it would not have bounced so well. Be¬
sides, now you've made it go over into the garden, and you must
go and get it.
Martin. No, I won't,
so ^
114
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
A controversy. Ketaliation. Jenny and Arthur.
Aleck. Yes, you shall, for you bounced it over there.
Martin. Well, you gave it to me to see if it was dry, and so I
"bounced it.
Aleck. And I tell you you ought to go and get it.
Martin. And I tell you I won't. You may go and get it your¬
self.
Aleck (suddenly seizing Martin's whip out of his hand, and
throwing it over the garden fence). Then you may go there and
get your frhip.
Martin (looking fiercely at Aleck). What business have you
to throw my whip over the fence ?
Aleck (looking back fiercely). What business have you to throw
my ball over ?
Martin. I did not throw your ball over.
Aleck. Well, you bounced it over.
Martin. That's a different thing.
Aleck. It is not; it is just the same thing; and I tell you to
go and get it, and bring it back to me.
Martin. It is a very different thing. And I tell you to go and
get my whip, and bring it back to me.
Aleck. I won't.
\_The boys look at each other with an air of defiance.
Jenny. Come, Arthur, you and I will go away. The boys are
quarreling, and I do not like to stay here.
Arthur (striking with his whip on the front part of the wag¬
on). Get up! get up!
Jenny. I'm going into the garden, boys, and I'll get the ball
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
115
Martin and Aleck can not agree to play.
and the whip, and throw them over to you, and so you need not
quarrel about them any more.
[ Jenny goes out, drawing the wagon. Aleck and Martin walk
about moodily.
Martin. The best thing for us to do when my whip comes
back is to play horses. '
Aleck. You have not got any reins.
Martin. Tes, I have got a string in my pocket. Here comes
the whip.
\The whip comes flying through the air over the garden fence.
Aleck. And here comes my ball.
\The ball comes over. Aleck takes it up and puts it in his
pocket.
Martin. Come, now, will you play horses ?
Aleck. I will, if you will be horse and let me be driver.
Martin. No, you must be horse and let me be driver.
Aleck. That's always the way. You insist on my being horse
all the time.
Martin. Well, the reason is that it is my whip and my reins,
and the whip and the reins always belong to the man.
Aleck. That is not any reason at all.
Martin. I tell you that it is a very good reason.
Aleck. It is not any reason at all. The reason really is that
you are not willing to play fair.
Martin. I tell you I am willing to play fair. I am always
willing to play fair, but you are so contrary that there is no such
thing as playing with you at all.
116
playing cat and dog.
Orkney tells the boys what they have been playing.
[ The boys sit down in a sulky manner on the margin of the
piazza, at a distance from each other. Martin whips the
ground with his whip, and AlecTc occupies himself in toss¬
ing his ball backward and forward from one hand to the
other.
Scene III.
Orkney, Aleck, Martin.
The same. Aleck and Martin remain sitting on the piazza. Orkney appears
at the door of the shop.
Orkney. Well, b<3ys, are you having a good time with the game
you are playing ?
Aleck. We are not playing any game.
Orkney. Oh yes, you have been playing an excellent good
game, only you did not know it.
Aleck. What game is it ?
Orkney. The game of cat and dog. You see, you have been
acting just like a cat and a dog that happen to be in the same yard
together; so, instead of playing horses, as Martin proposed, you
have been playing cat and dog," and if you had only known what
you were doing, you would have found it excellent good fun.
Martin,. Nonsense, Orkney, you don't mean any such thing.
Orkney. Why ? Don't you think you were really acting like
a cat and a dog ?
Martin. No, not a bit.
Orkney. Why, yes. You have forgotten how a cat and a dog
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
117
Orkney describes an interview between a dog and a cat.
do act toward each other when they find themselves in the same
yard.
.Martin. How do they act ?
Orkney. Did not you ever observe them ?
Martin. Yes; but we want you to tell us how they act.
Orkney. In the first place, when the dog sees the cat, he runs
over toward her, but he does not look good-natured and amiable,
as if he were coming like a friend. He expects a quarrel, and he
is coming on purpose to make one, so he comes growling a little,
and looking fierce.
Aleck. Yes.
Orkney. He does not growl much—it is only a little; but it
does not take much of a growl from a dog to let a cat know that
he feels cross.
Aleck. No, very little indeed.
Orkney. And just so a boy, without any groVling at all, but
just by his way of saying No, in a short and snappish way, so—
Wo !—may let another boy see that he is cross, and so make the
other boy feel cross too.
Martin. In this way—JVo !
Aleck. Or so—JVo, I tell you, no !
Orkney. Yes, that's the tone. Now, when the cat sees the
dog coming up, and growling at her, do you think she begins to
purr?
Martin. No, indeed!
Orkney. Or walk up and rub against him affectionately ?
Martin. No, indeed.
118
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
How the boys had resembled a dog and cat.
Orkney. Not at all. She puts up her back, and sticks out lier
tail, and looks as fierce as she can in return.
Aleck. Yes, exactly.
Orkney. Then the dog begins to bark. Then the cat snarls
and spits at him. Then the dog comes nearer and barks louder.
Then the cat catches at him with her paw, and tries to scratch
him.
^Martin. Yes, we've seen them do so a thousand times.
Orkney. Then the cat runs off and jumps up upon a bench,
and from the bench she climbs up to the top of a fence. Then
the dog walks away growling. The dog lies down on the piazza
near the door, and the cat sits on the top of the post, and then
they look at each other with looks of anger and defiance, just ex¬
actly as you boys did a little while ago.
Aleck. Oh, Orkney!
Orkney. Yes,* it was exactly so. Well, by-and-by the cat
comes down from the fence, but, instead of coming to play with
the dog good-naturedly, she goes off in a sulky manner toward
the garden. The dog starts up and barks at her again. He con¬
siders whether it is worth while for him to run after her and bite
her, but finally he concludes that it is not quite worth the trouble,
so he lies down again growling.
Aleck. Oh, Orkney, we did not do so.
Orkney. You did as nearly so as boys can. You can't bark,
and snarl, and scratch exactly like a cat and a dog, or sit on a
post of the fence, but you can do what comes to the same thing;
and a very funny way to play it is, when you once know what it
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
119
Orkney's recommendation to tHe boys.
is that you are playing. Now you go out into the yard again,
and do just what you did before, and say the same things to each
other, and just remember all the time that you are playing cat and
dog, and you will find it excellent fun. You can be the cat ana
Martin can be the dog, or you can be the dog and Martin can be
the cat, it makes no difference which.
Martin. Nonsense, Orkney! I won't.
Orkney. I'm sure you would like it if you only tried it. You
did not have a good time at all before, but that was because you
did not know what you were playing. Go and try it again. Al¬
eck will propose to play ball. Then Martin must say, in as snap¬
pish a manner as possible, that Aleck's ball is not good for any
thing—that it is ripped, and wet. Then Aleck must growl back
that it is not, and so on.
Aleck. Nonsense, Orkney, you are only making fools of us.
Come, Martin, I don't want to hear him talking so any more.
Let's go and play.
Martin. Well, so we will, and Orkney may go back to his
work. Where's your ball ?
Aleck. Here it is, in my pocket. \They go off to play.
120
playing cat and dog.
Aleck and Martin playing ball together.
Scene IV.
Aleck, Martin, Jenny, Aethue. Afterward Oekney.
A field behind a barn. Jenny is drawing Arthur in the wagon about upon the
grass. Aleck and Martin are playing ball against the back side of the barn.
There is a window in the upper part of the barn, but it is closed by a
shutter.
Martin. The ball goes very well indeed. We have sewed up
the rips nicely.
Aleck. But I think you were right in saying it was not quite
dry. I don't think it is quite dry myself, though I kept it by the
fire all night.
Martin. It is not wet enough to do any harm. It bounces
finely, as well as I want a ball to bounce.
Aleck. Here comes Jenny, with Arthur in the little wagon.
[Jenny comes ujp to the jplace where the boys are playing, draw¬
ing the wagon.
Jenny. We will come and see the boys play ball, Arthur.
Aleck. Ah! that's right; bring him here, Jenny, and let him
see us play ball; only you had better take the wagon a little one
side, so that the ball shall not hit him. Take him there, on the
eft side, because, when we knock the ball, we generally knock it
)ff to the right. He will be very safe over there.
Jenny. I will. Here's a good place. Arthur, sit still now in
he wagon, and you will see the boys knock the ball.
Aleck. It is Martin's turn to knock it. You'll see how fair he
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
121
How the boys played after what Orkney said.
will hit it, and how far it will go, he knows how to -play "ball
so well. If I could play as well as he can, I should feel quite
proud.
Martin. Oh, Aleck, I can't play any better than you. (Aleck
throws the ball against the barn, and Martin attempts to hit it
when it comes back on the rebound, but he misses.) There! I
missed.
Aleck. Oh, never mind; it is not very often that you miss.
The best players miss sometimes.
\_Aleck throws the ball, and this time Martin hits it, and
knocks it off a great way. Aleck runs to get it.
Martin. Did you see, Arthur ? Did you see me knock the
ball ? Did you see how far it went away ?
[Aleck returns with the ball.
Jenny. I don't see how you can hit such a small ball with such
a round bat.
Martin. Why, it is practice, Jenny—it is all practice. When
boys first begin to play, they can not hit the ball at all.
Aleck. Now, Martin, whenever you like, we'll play horses. I'm
a little tired of playing ball.
Martin. Well, we'll play horses now. You may be my horse,
or I'll be yours. I don't think it is of much consequence who the
whip and the reins belong to.
Aleck. Let us take turns; that will be the fairest way.
Martin. Agreed! We'll take turns. I'll be your horse first.
Aleck {eagerly). We'll both be horses, and will draw Arthur
about in his wagon.
122
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
The boys offer to give Jenny and Arthur a ride.
Martin. Good! We can draw Arthur and Jenny too. Jenny
shall sit in front and "be the driver.
Jenny. Oh no, I'm afraid.
Aleck. Why, Jenny, what should you Ibe afraid of?
Jenny. You will go so fast. You will gallop away and upset
the wagon, and I shall fall out. Besides, you will upset Arthur,
and so hurt him and make him cry.
Martin. No, we won't, Jenny; we'll go very slowly. We will
be very careful indeed not to upset you.
Jenny. Well, you'll frighten us, at any rate, if you don't up¬
set us.
Martin. No, we won't frighten you. We'll go very carefully;
we'll walk all the way.
Aleck. Yes ; we'll play that we are team-horses, and will walk
all the way.
Martin. Or oxen. We'll play that we are oxen, Jenny, and
oxen always walk; so you won't lbe afraid at all.
Jenny. Well, if you'll promise to go very carefully, I'll do it;
and you must walk all the way.
Aleck. Yes, we will.
Jenny. And the moment you begin to run, you must stop and
let me get out.
Aleck. Yes, we will.
[ Jenny mounts upon the front seat of the wagon, and the boys
take hold of the tongue of it and begin to draw it along.
They walk slowly and laboriously, like oxen drawing a
heavy load.
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
123
Orkney calls to the boys from the barn window.
Jenny. That's right. If you go as well as that all the time, I
shall be glad.
\The barn window opens, and Orkney looks down upon the
children.
NOT RAYING OAT AND IK)G.
Orkney. Hallo, lboys!
Martin. That's Orkney. Where is he ?
[ They look about to see where the voice comes from.
124
PLAYING CAT AND DOG.
Orkney's advice to the boys.
Aleck. Where are you ?
Orkney (calling out). Look!
Jenny (looking up). There he is, looking out of the barn win¬
dow.
Martin. Ah 1 Orkney, how came you up there ?
Orkney. I came up the ladder.
Martin. What are you doing ?
Orkney. I'm wheeling in pumpkins out of the garden into the
barn, and I heard your voices, and so I climbed up here to look
out and see what you were doing. Are you playing cat and dog ?
Aleck {resentfully). No, indeed, we are not playing cat and dog
at all; we are playing oxen.
Orkney. Oxen! Well, that's a good play, but it is not half so
exciting as to play cat and dog.
Martin. Nonsense, Orkney! We are not going to play cat and
dog at all, and you need not think of such a thing.
Orkney. Well, just as you please. Only, if you ever do play
cat and dog again, keep it in mind that that is what you are play¬
ing, and you'll find it very good fun.
the kite paper.
125
The boys are at play in the yard.
Orkney is drawing.
VI
THE KITE PAPER.
Aleck.
Martin.
Top.
Mr. Hamilton.
Jenny.
Orkney.
Scene I.
Aleck, Martin, Top, Orkney, and other boys.
A yard by the side of a large house. A high hedge separating the yard from
the road. Gate leading through the hedge. Aleck, Martin, Top, and other
boys playing in the yard. A large dog lying down near the gate. Orkney
is sitting on a seat, under a window of the house, making a drawing of the
dog.
Aleck. Hark! There she comes. (The boys all stop jplaying
and listen.) That is it.
Martin. No, it is not. That is nothing "but a wagon. The
stage-wheels make a very different noise from that. Besides, you
may be sure that Tromp will "be up the instant he hears the stage
coming.
Top. Seize'm, Tromp!
Orkney. No, no, Top ; don't disturb Tromp till I've done draw¬
ing him. Let him lie still.
Martin. What made you name your dog Tromp, Orkney ?
Orkney. Why, I wanted to name him by the name of some
126
THE KITE PAPER.
Orkney's dog Tromp. Always do a little better than you promise.
admiral, and I once read about an Admiral Yan Tromp. So his
name is Van Tromp, "but I call him Tromp for shortness.
Martin. Well, I think it is an awful name for a dog. Tromp!
If you had called him Tramp, there would have been some sense
in it.
Aleck. Yes, or Tramper. Hark!
\The boys all listen again for the sound of wheels.
Martin. No, that's only a wagon ; but it is time for the stage
to come, and I'm sure there'll be a box for me in it.
Aleck. And I hope there'll be one for me.
Martin. And I'm sure there'll be one for me; for my father
wrote me word that he should send me one by Wednesday.
Aleck {eagerly). But, Martin, it is not Wednesday to-day. It
is Tuesday.
Martin. I know it; but my-father always sends his things the
day before he promises them. He always does a little better than
he promises in every thing. He tells me that, when I grow up
and become a merchant, I had always better pay my notes the
day before they become due.
Top. Then you'll lose a day's interest on all that you pay.
Martin. True; but my father says I shall more than make it up
in quiet of mind, and in the good effect it will have on my credit.
Orkney. I think that is very good doctrine, and we need not
wait till we are men before we begin to practice upon it. We
can begin to practice now. Always do a little better than we
promise. Give good measure—like the Quakers.
[The dog lifts up his head and barks.
THE KITE PAPEE.
127
Tromp gives signal that the stage is coming. How to learn to dra-w.
Aleck. There! [The dog starts up and runs to the gate.
Martin. There! The stage has come at last! Hurrah ! hur¬
rah !
[lie runs to the gate and opens it. Tromp rushes out. Aleck,
and Martin, and several of the other boys follow. Top
walks to the seat where Orkney is sitting to look at his work.
A sound of wheels is heard outside, as of a heavy stage¬
coach coming up to the gate and stopping.
Top. As I don't expect any "box, I'll come and see how you get
along with your drawing, Orkney. But you can't finish it now,
for Tromp has gone off.
Orkney. I took care to finish the outline while he was lying
still. There is nothing to be done now but to shade it, and that
I can do just as well while he is away. I do not need to see the
model for the shading.
Top (looking over Orkney's work). How well you have done
it! And the gate behind him, too, how pretty it looks !
Orkney. He's a handsome dog.
Top. I wish I could draw as well as you can, Orkney.
Orkney. You can, if you are only willing to pay the same price
I have to pay.
Top. What is that ?
Orkney. I don't think you would be willing to pay it.
Top. But tell me what it is.
Orkney. Patience, perseverance, and plenty of hard work.
Top. Oh, Orkney! But here come the boys.
[ The gate opens and the boys come in, each of them bringing a
128
the kite paper.
Martin and Aleck receive their boxes. The contents.
box as large as he can carry. Tromp comes in after them,
and leaps about, barking for joy.
Top. Then you've got your boxes, boys ?
Aleck. Yes, both of us.
Martin. And we are going up into our rooms to open them,
and see what there is in them.
Aleck. Let's go into my room, Martin.
Martin. Well; and, Top, I wish you would go and get a ham¬
mer and chisel. My father always nails up his boxes so strong.
Top. Yes, I will. Then I can see what you have got in your '
boxes.
Scene IX.
Martin, Aleck, Top.
A small chamber. The two boxes are placed on chairs. Top has just finished
taking off the covers. Aleck and Martin are engaged, each at his own box,
taking out the things contained in them.
Martin {joyfully). I knew my box would come. Now I shall
see what my father has sent me.
Aleck {faking a parcel out from his box and opening it). Ah!
here's a new ball for me! I wrote to my mother that my ball
was getting worn out, and she has bought me another.
Top. Let me see it.
\Iie takes the ball and begins bouncing it on the floor.
Martin. Ah! here's a new cap for me. (Takes out the cap and
tries it on.) That is just what I wanted. See! What a nice
cap ! How warm it will be!
THE KITE PAPEK.
129
Oranges. The small box. The thermometer. The kite.
Aleck. Yes, it is a very nice one indeed. I expect I've got
some mittens here somewhere. I wrote my mother that it would
very soon begin to be cold, nights and mornings, and I asked her
to send me some mittens. The ones I had last winter are too
small; besides, they are worn out.
Martin. Ah! here are some oranges. They are all put up in
papers, but I know they are oranges by the feeling. One, two,
three, four, five, six of them.
Aleck. Here's a box. It is marked on the outside, " Open with
care." I must be very careful of it.
Martin. Let me see. " I advise you to take the greatest possi¬
ble care. Like as not it is full of sugar images, that will break at
the least touch.
Aleck {opening the box carefully). No, it is a thermometer—
a dear little thermometer. How glad I am! I will hang it up
in my window, outside, and then I can see how cold it is before I
go out, and so know whether it is best to take my mittens or not.
How handy it will be !
Martin. Ah! here's a little kite packed close against the side
of my box. Look! What a little beauty. It is small, but it is
a perfect little beauty.
Aleck. So it is. A thread is strong enough to hold that kite;
and if you had two or three spools of thread, you could send it up
out of sight.
Martin. Perhaps they have sent me some thread; I may find
some before I get to the bottom of my box.
Aleck. Ah! look here. (Taking a roll out of his box.) Here
so I
130
THE KITE PAPER.
Kite paper. A bargain. Two oranges for a sheet of kite paper.
is a roll of kite paper, thin and light, but very strong. I asked
my mother to send me some. You can buy it in New York for
two cents a sheet, and very large sheets. Now I can make as
big a kite as I please.
[lie ojpens the roll, and shows Martin one of the sheets.
Martin. That's first-rate paper for kites; I wish you'd let* me
have one of the sheets. My big kite is torn ; I've patched it sev¬
eral times, and it's getting too heavy. If you would let me have
one of these sheets, I would take off all the old paper and cover-
it anew.
Aleck (doubtfully). Well, perhaps I will.
Martin. I'll give you two of the oranges for one of the sheets.
Top. That'll be a fair bargain.
Aleck. Agreed. Hand us the oranges.
Martin. Then hand us the paper.
Aleck. No, you'd better let me keep the paper all together; it
will keep smoother so. We'll go out together into the shop some
day, and I'll make a new kite, and you shall cover your old one,
and I'll give you a sheet of the paper when you are ready to
use it.
Martin. "Very well, we'll settle it so. I'll give you two of my
oranges now. We'll open them all, and you may take your choice
of them.
Top. I advise you not to choose the biggest ones, Aleck, but
those that have the softest skins.
Aleck. No, I'll not choose at all; I'll take them just as they
come.
THE KITE PAPEE.
131
The knife. Twine. ■ The walnuts and candy. Clearing up.
[Martin gives Aleck two of the oranges, and he puts them in
his pocket.
Martin. Now we will see what comes next.
Aleck (taking a small parcel out of his box). I wonder what is
in this! Ah! it's a new knife. That's just what I want to make
my new kite with.
Martin. Look here! (,Showing a skein of twine which he has
taken out from his box.) Look at this twine!
Aleck. Ah! yes ; that's a first-rate skein of twine.
Top. So it is ; I'll hold it for you to wind whenever you please.
Aleck. I've got about to the bottom of my box.
Martin. So have I.
Aleck. Only here's something in a bag. It's a bag of nuts of
some kind. They are walnuts.
. Top. That's good, especially if you will give me some of them.
Aleck. I will. We'll get a hammer some day, and go out to
the horse-block, and crack them, and eat them all together. The
horse-block is excellent to crack them upon.
Martin., Now here's the last thing in my box. {He takes out
a large paper parcel.) It is a paper full of candy and lozenges.
Let's open it and eat some of'em now.
Top. Not yet; you'd better clear away all this rubbish first.
Aleck. So we will. Let's clear up the papers, and put all our
things in our drawers, and then carry down the boxes, and so put
the room all in good order.
Martin. Yes; and then I'll open my candy and see how it
tastes.
132
the kite paper.
Aleck and Martin covering their kites in the shop.
Scene III.
'Martin, Aleck, Jenny.
A shop. Two benches placed together in the middle of the shop, so as to make
a low table. Martin and Aleck are sitting at this table upon blocks of wood,
employed in making kites. Jenny is sitting near, on a stool, and is building
houses out of small blocks and bars of wood.
Jenny. I can't make the sides of my houses stand up, Aleck.
What must I do ? They keep tumbling down.
Martin. Oh, I see. The floor is not level there. There is a
crack, and the edges of the "board are uneven.
Jenny. I wish you'd come and show me what to do.
Martin. Oh no, I can't come very well now; I'm busy.
Aleck. I'll come, Jenny; I'll get you a smooth board to put
down there, and then you can build a great deal better.
Martin. Come back as soon as you can.
Aleck. There, Jenny, there's a good smooth board.
Jenny. Yes ; now I can get along very well indeed, only I wish
you would show me how to make a good steeple; I never could
make a good steeple.
Aleck. Well, Jenny, I will in a few minutes, after I have finish¬
ed pasting my kite. I can show you how to make a steeple while
my kite is drying.
Martin. Aleck, this sheet is not big enough for my kite.
Aleck. Isn't it ?
Martin. No.
THE KITE PAPER.
133
The controversy about the kite paper.
Aleck. Then you must piece it.
Martin. I can't piece it very well; I don't like a kite paper
all patched. I could make half my kite out of it if you would
give me another sheet for the other half.
Aleck. Oh, I could not give you another sheet very well; I
think you ought to piece it.
Martin. No, I don't want it pieced; and, besides, I think you
ought to give me another sheet; you know, I gave you two or¬
anges.
Aleck. That makes no difference; you agreed to give me two
oranges for one sheet of paper.
Martin. That was because I thought one sheet of paper would
"be enough; but now I find that it is not enough, and so you ought
to give me two.
Aleck. But one will be enough if you piece it. ,111 show you
how. You see, you cut off enough paper from the lower part to
fill it out at the sides. I'll show you exactly how. I've done it
so many a time. I'll cut it out for you, if you like.
Martin. No, I don't want to do it that way ; I want you to
give me another sheet of paper. I'll leave it to Jenny. Do you
agree to that, Aleck ?
Aleck. Why, I think it is plain enough, without leaving it to
any body. You gave me two oranges, and I promised to give
you one sheet of paper, and I've done it. There's no question
about it.
Martin. But I meant paper enough to paper my kite. That
was the understanding. Don't you think he is bound to give me
134
THE KITE PAPER.
Jenny's decision. The boys choose a new arbitrator.
another sheet, Jenny ? If you were going to have a new dress,
should you want to have it pieced and patched ?
Jenny. No, indeed.
Martin. Then don't you think that he ought to give me an¬
other sheet?
Jenny. No.
Martin. Why not ?
Jenny. Because you would not come and get me a hoard to
build my houses on, as Aleck did.
Martin. Oh, Jenny, that's nothing at all to do with it.
Aleck. No matter; she has decided. You agreed to leave it
to her, and she has decided, and now you ought to he content.
Martin. No, I onljproposed to leave it to her, and you did not
agree to it, and so it was not a bargain.
Aleck. Oh, Martin!
Martin. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll leave it to Orkney, or
to Mr. Hamilton.
Aleck. Agreed; I'll leave it to either of them ; or, rather, let
us leave it to both of them. We will ask both of them, first one
and then the other, and see what they will say.
Martin. Well, we'll do that. Let's go now; and, Jenny, you
may stay here till we come back.
Jenny. No, I don't want to stay here all alone.
Aleck. Then you may come with us. Come.
the kite papee.
135
The boys carry the question before Mr. Hamilton. Plaintiff.
Scene IV.
Martin, Aleck, Mr. Hamilton.
A study. Mr. Hamilton at his table, writing.
Enter Martin and Aleck.
Aleck {speaking to Jenny outside). You may stay here by the
door, Jenny, till we come out.
Mr. Hamilton. Well, boys, have you got a question for me ?
Martin. Yes, sir.
Mr. Hamilton. Wait a minute till I have finished this sentence
that I am writing.
[The boys go to a window and talk together in a low voice,
while Mr. Hamilton continues writing.
Martin. You shall tell him what the case is, Aleck.
Aleck. No, you tell him.
Martin. No, I can't tell about it very well.
Mr. Hamilton (laying down his peri). Now, boys ! (The boys
go toward Mr. Hamilton's table.) Let us see. Which of you is
the plaintiff?
Martin. Why, Mr. Hamilton, I don't understand about plain¬
tiff and defendant very well. I never know which they are.
Mr. Hamilton. The plaintiff is one who claims that something
ought to be done. He wishes the other to do something or give
him something.
136
THE KITE PAPER.
Mr. Hamilton's court Martin's complaint.
Aleck. Well, sir, Martin thinks I ought to give him another
sheet of paper.
Mr. Hamilton. And you are not willing to do it ?
Aleck. Why, I don't think I am bound to do it.
Mr. Hamilton. Yes, that is what I mean. Now you see that
he comes into court to complain that you will not give him anoth¬
er sheet of paper, and so he is plaintiff; and you come to defend
yourself from his claim, and so you are defendant.
Aleck. Yes, sir. I understand it now.
Mr. Hamilton. But I do not see why you need have any diffi¬
culty albout paper. All the boys have as much paper as they want
at this school, don't they ?
Martin. It is not writing-paper; it is kite paper.
Mr. Hamilton. Ah ! that's a different thing.
Martin. Yes, it is a very different thing.
Mr. Hamilton. Well, Martin, you are plaintiff. Tell your sto¬
ry. The plaintiff tells his story first.
Martin. I had rather that Aleck would tell it. He can tell it
best. He can tell for both of us.
Mr. Hamilton, But the rule is always that the plaintiff speaks
first. If he thinks that he can not tell his story well, he employs
a lawyer to do it for him. He can not call upon the defendant
to do it for him. So you must begin, and do as well as you
can.
Martin. Well, Aleck had some first-rate kite paper that came
in his box from home, and I had some oranges, and I made a bar¬
gain about them. I gave him two of my oranges, and he agreed
THE KITE PAPEK.
137
The defendant interrupting the plaintiff Mr. Hamilton's explanation.
that, when I was ready, he would give me enough kite paper to
paper my kite; and then—"
Aleck (interrupting). But, Mr. Hamilton—
Mr. Hamilton (interrupting AlecJc). No, Aleck, you must not
interrupt. Let the plaintiff go on and finish.
Aleck. But he has made a mistake.
Mr. Hamilton. No matter. Let him go on and make as many
mistakes as he pleases. You can correct them all lby-and-by,
when it comes your turn to speak.
Martin. Well, he agreed to give me some paper to cover my
kite, and, when the time came, he gave me one sheet; Tbut that
was not enough, and now I want him to give me another.
Mr. Hamilton. And is that all your case ?
Martin. Yes, that is all.
Mr. Hamilton. Now, Aleck, what have you to say ?
Aleck. I think he ought to piece it. If he pieces it at the cor¬
ners, there will be paper enough. I can show him how to do it.
Martin. But I don't like to have it pieced. I don't like the
looks of it; and, besides, the seams make the kite heavy; so I
want two sheets. The kite can't be covered well without two
sheets.
Mr. Hamilton. The question is, what was the agreement.
What was the bargain between you? If Aleck agreed to give
you enough to paper the kite without piecing, then he is bound to
do it, even if he thinks that piecing it will do just as well. But
if, on the other hand, he only agreed to give you enough to paper
it with piecing, then Martin must be content with that, whether
138
THE KITE PAPER.
The difference 'bet-ween an understanding and a bargain. Illustration of the confectioner.
lie likes it or not. The question simply is, What was the bar¬
gain ?
Aleck. Well, the bargain was that I was to give him one sheet.
He gave me two oranges for it.
Mr.Hamilton. Was that so, Martin?
Martin. Yes; but then that was because I thought one sheet
would be enough.
Aleck. So did I. I did not know the frame of his kite was so
big.
Martin. So, you see, there was an understanding that I was to
have enough to paper the kite whole.
Mr. Hamilton. True; but still that understanding may not have
been any part of the bargain. When people make trades, they
often have a great many expectations and understandings in re¬
gard to the things they trade about, which are, nevertheless, no
part of the bargain. For instance, suppose a lady expects some
company to spend the evening with her, and she goes to a confec¬
tioner, and tells him she is going to have some friends come and
spend the evening, and she wishes the confectioner to make her
some ice cream, and send it in at eight o'clock. Now the confec¬
tioner, being told that company is expected, believes that they will
really come, and the lady believes it too, so that there is an under¬
standing between them that the company will be there, and that
they will eat the ice cream. Well, suppose now that the company
should not come, and then that the lady should send back the ice
cream, all melting, and tell the confectioner that the company did
not come, and that she did not wish for the ice cream.
THE KITE PAPER.
139
Martin -withdraws his complaint. A case in point.
Martin. Hoh! that would not be fair at all.
Aleck. No; the confectioner would say to the lady that he
could not take the ice cream back—that she bought it, and that
she must keep it and pay for it. Then the lady would say, per¬
haps, Why, there was an understanding, when I engaged the
cream, that the company would come; I thought they would, and
you thought they would too. True, the confectioner would reply;
true, there was such an understanding, but it was not made part
of the bargain; it was not a condition of the bargain at all. You
engaged the ice cream absolutely, and the understanding or expec¬
tation that the company would come was something outside of the
agreement altogether, and should have nothing to do with the ex¬
ecution of it.
Martin. I think that was a fair argument.
Mr. Hamilton. Now the question is, When Aleck agreed to
give you one sheet, and you both thought that that would be
enough to cover the kite, was that expectation made a part of the
bargain ?
Martin. JSTo, sir, it was not. So, Aleck, I will give it up. Let
us go; I will piece it out as well as I can.
Mr. Hamilton. Stop a moment. There is one more case that
I should like to tell you about; I have just read it. It was cop¬
ied from an English newspaper. It is a real case that occurred
lately in England, and it is exactly in point.
Martin. What do you mean by being in point, Mr, Hamilton ?
Mr. Hamilton. Why, exactly like your case—that is, like it in
principles. A gentleman was-going, with his wife and two daugh-
140
THE KITE PAPER.
Story of the gentleman and the four rail-way tickets.
ters, to make a journey by rail-road, and lie went to the office and
called for four first-class tickets. The ticket-seller gave him the
tickets, and he paid for them.
Aleck. First-class tickets—what are they ?
Mr. Hamilton. Why, tickets for the first-class carriages. In
England they have different sorts of carriages in the trains, and
the prices are different. Those for the first class are made like
very large and handsome coaches. Each one will hold six per¬
sons. When the gentleman took four tickets, he expected to take
his wife and daughters into one of these carriages. The ticket-man
expected it too.
Aleck. Yes, sir; and there would lbe room left for two persons
besides, in the same carriage.
Mr. Hamilton. Exactly. The gentleman, when he had got the
tickets, went, with his wife and daughters, to the platform, and
waited there for the train to come along. When it came, he found
that there were exactly four first-class carriages in it; two of
them were full, and the other two had four persons in each of
them, so that there was not room any where for the gentleman and
his family to sit together.
Martin. And what did they do ?
Aleck. Why, he and his wife might go in one of the carriages,
and the two girls in the other.
Mr. Hamilton. Yes ; or the oldest daughter might go with her
father in one, and the youngest with her mother in the other.
Aleck. Yes, that would have been a better way.
Mr. Hamilton. But the gentleman would not consent to divide
THE KITE PAPER.
141
The traveler's demand. The station-master's offer. The case in court.
his family in any way. He insisted that they should all go to¬
gether ; and, as there were not seats enough for them in any one
carriage, he called upon the station-master to put on another car¬
riage, so that they could all go together; but the station-master
would not do it.
Martin. I would not have done it if I had been he.
Mr. Hamilton. The station-master offered to pay him back his
money if he was not satisfied with his accommodations, but he re¬
fused to put on another carriage when there was already room
enough for all by taking seats in two carriages. So the man re¬
fused to go, and brought the case into court.
Martin. And how did they decide it ?
Mr. Hamilton. The man maintained that, when a person bought
four tickets together at a station, he expected, and the man who
sold him the tickets expected, that the four persons would sit to¬
gether. This was the understanding, he said, when the tickets
were bought, and, being the understanding, it formed part of the
agreement, and that the company were bound to carry out their
agreement according to this understanding.
Martin. And what did the company say to that ?
Mr. Hamilton. The company maintained that though, in such
a case, a man might expect to find four seats together, and the
ticket-seller might think it very probable that he would, still that
expectation was no part of the contract or bargain. The bargain
was, that the man, on paying so much money, was to have for it
four seats in first-class carriages ; but it was no part of the agree¬
ment that the seats should be together.
142
the kite papek.
The boys' controversy is settled pleasantly. Orkney contemplating the unfinished kites.
Martin. And how did the judge decide ?
Mr. Hamilton. He decided in favor of the company.
Martin. And I think he decided right.
Mr. Hamilton. And so, if Aleck simply agreed to give you one
sheet of paper for the oranges, and if he has given it to you, the
bargain is fulfilled, no matter how much you may be disappointed
as to what it will do.
Martin. Well, Aleck, I am content.
Mr. Hamilton. The only way you can do is to piece your pa¬
per, as Aleck proposes, or else to buy another sheet of paper with
more oranges.
Martin. But I have eaten the oranges all up.
M. Hamilton. Then I think the best thing you can do is to
piece the kite.
Martin. Well; come, Aleck. \They go out.
Scene V.
Okkney. Afterward Martin, Aleck, and Jenny.
The shop. Orkney alone. He stands looking on the unfinished kites, lying
on the benches in the middle of the room.
Orkney. That's the way with us boys. We begin one job,
and as soon as we get it well under way, off we go and engage in
something else. But I've a great mind to sit down and finish
their kites for them.
the kite paper.
143
The boys ask Orkney's help. Jenny going of an errand.
Enter Martin, Aleck, and Jenny.
Aleck. Halloo, Orkney! I'm glad you've come; that is to say,
provided you feel in a mood to help us finish our kites. Come
and help us—do.
Orkney. I thought you had gone off and abandoned your kites.
Martin. No, we only went to see Mr. Hamilton, to get him to
settle a question.
Orkney. What was the question ?
Martin. Why, you see, I bought a sheet of paper of Aleck to
paper my kite, and, when we found that it was not enough, I
thought he ought to give me another.
Orkney. And how did Mr. Hamilton decide it ?
Martin. Why, he said that our thinking it would be enough
had nothing to do with it, unless that was a part of the bargain;
and it was not a part of the bargain. So I am going to make one
sheet do by piecing it, and it will be just as good if you will do
it for me.
Orkney. Do you think Mr. Hamilton decided right ?
Martin. Yes; and he told some interesting stories about it.
But now I must go into the house and get some scissors—unless
you'll go for me, Jenny: will you?
Jenny. I'll go for you, if you'll only go too, to keep me com¬
pany.
Martin (laughing). Well, I'll go with you. Come.
\_Martin arid Jenny go out.
Aleck. Do you think Mr. Hamilton decided right, Orkney ?
144
the kite papek.
What Orkney said to Aleck after Martin had gone.
Orkney. Yes, I suppose he did—that is, if the bargain simply
was that you were to give him one sheet of paper. I suppose that
is all that you were bound to give him, no matter how much you
might both be disappointed about what it would do. But then,
still, you have a right to give him another sheet of paper if you
choose.
Aleck. Yes; but then—
Orkney. You are not under any obligation to do it. It would
be an act of generosity on your part; but then he can't call upon
you for it, nor can I, nor can any body else. Nobody can claim
of any other person that he should perform an act of generosity.
Aleck. He don't like the idea of piecing his kite at all, and I
don't think myself that a kite is so good when it is pieced.
Orkney. No; and some people, if they were in your place, would
give him another sheet; that's the way that Martin says his father
deals with people. He always does a little better than he prom¬
ises. But that is all his own choice. Nobody is ever bound to
do any more or better than he promises.
Enter Maktin and Jenny.
Martin. I've got the scissors, and now I'm going to cut out my
paper.
Aleck. But stop, Martin, I'm going to give you another sheet.
Martin. Are you ?
Aleck. Yes, I can spare another very well.
Martin. But I have not got any more oranges to give you. I
ate the rest all up—what I did not give away.
THE KITE PAPEE.
145
Aleck does better than be promised.
Aleck. No matter for that. Besides, it is about as much for
my benefit as yours, for I shall almost always be with you when
you are flying your kite, and I shall see it in the air, and I don't
want to see it pieced any more than you.
Martin. Well, you are very generous, I think.
Jenny. So do I. I think he is very generous indeed.
Martin. And now, Orkney, if you would only cut the paper
out for me!
Orkney. Yery well; that I'll do.
Martin. It will dry in half an hour, and then we will go and
send up all our kites together.
30 K
146 boasting.
Sportsmen in imagination. AVhat Walter would do if lie saw a bear.
YII.
BOASTING.
Walter.
Thomas.
Top.
Orkney.
Jenny.
Tim.
Scene I.
Walter, Thomas, Top, other boys.
Afield. Seats under the trees, near a swing. The boys have just finished
playing ball, and have gone to sit down upon the seats. Top is in the
swing.
Walter. Let's have another game.
Thomas. No, I'm tired of playing. Do you see that knot on
the branch up there ?
Top. Yes, I see it.
Thomas. I wish it was a squirrel, and I had a good how and
arrow; you'd see how I'd pop him off.
Walter. I wish it was a hear, and I had a good gun. You'd
see how I'd pop him off.
Thomas. Hoh! You would not dare to shoot him if you had
a gun.
Walter. I tell you I should. I'd walk straight up to the tree,
and put a bullet right into him.
BOASTING.
147
Walter's courage. Thunder is heard. Walter's timidity.
Thomas. No, you would not. You would not dare to do any
such thing. Besides, he would not wait for you. The moment
he saw you coming, he'd begin to come at you, showing all his
teeth.
Walter. I should like that. The nearer he came to me, the
better would be the chance that I should hit him. I should not
care in the least for his teeth.
Top. Oh, Walter, you would not dare to do any such thing.
You would be afraid.
Walter. I tell you I should not be afraid. I'm not afraid of
any thing. I would as lief shoot a bear as not. I would as lief
shoot a lion as not. I'd take aim right between his eyes.
Thomas. I have heard it said that people that boast are very
apt to fail when it comes to the trial.
Walter. I would not fail, you may depend. (A sound of dis¬
tant thunder is heard.) Hark! what's that ?
Thomas. It is thunder. We are going to have a shower, I
suppose. See! there's a cloud coming up. It will clear the air,
and make it cooler.
Walter (moving about restlessly, and looking up at the cloud).
Is the cloud coming this way, do you think ? (The thunder is
heard again, a little louder than before.) It is! it is! Let us
run! \_The boys rise from their seats in a quiet manner.
Thomas. Yes, we'd better go home to get out of the rain. But
there will be time enough. There's no use in running. You are
not afraid of the thunder, are you? You know, you are not afraid
of any thing.
148
boasting.
The scene after the thunder shower.
Walter. No—no—I'm not afraid; but— {The thunder is
heard again.) There! It comes nearer! I'm going!
[lie runs off as fast as he can, leaving the other boys laughing
at him.
Scene II.
Jenny, Thomas, Top, and other boys. Afterward Oekney.
A yard. The boys are sitting on benches under a piazza. It is raining a
little. The light of the sun is just breaking through the clouds.
Thomas. It has almost stopped raining.
Top. Yes; the sun is coming out. I think it will stop rain¬
ing in a very few minutes.
Jenny. Do you think there will be a rainbow ?
Thomas. If the sun comes out suddenly in the west while the
clouds remain thick in the east, then there will be a rainbow.
But I don't think the sun is coming out bright just yet.
Top. Nor I. But I wish, at any rate, that it would stop rain¬
ing.
Thomas. It may stop in a few minutes, or it may not stop for
half an hour. Sometimes the showers come back again after they
have gone over.
Toj>. At any rate, we can't go out in the grass again to play
for half an hour, it will be so wet.
Thomas. We might go down to the river, and see if there is
any freshet. We can walk along the road pretty well, because
there is no grass there.
boasting.
149
Why the freshet does not come immediately after the shower.
Top. Yes, but it will be muddy. Besides, there can't be any
freshet yet. If this shower makes a freshet at all, it won't come
along before to-morrow morning.
Thomas. Why not ?
Top. Why, you see, the freshet here is made by the water that
falls up the river, far back in the country. And, before the river
can rise here, there must be time for all the water to run down the
brooks into the river, and then to come down the river to this
place, and that takes a good many hours.
Thomas. I wonder where Walter is.
Walter {sjpeaking from above). Here I am.
Top (looking up and around). Where are you ?
Walter. Here!
\_The boys look up at last, and see Walter at a chamber win¬
dow.
Top. There he is, in his room.
Thomas. Come down here, Walter.
Walter. Well. [He disappears from the window.
Top. I'll tell you what we might do. We might go and play
in the barn.
Jenny. Tes, I wish you would; then I would go with you
and see you play; but if you go out any where in the wet, I can
not go.
Enter Walter.
Thomas. Well, we'll go into the barn. But, Walter, what
made you run off so ? You had just been boasting that you were
150
BOASTING.
Walter proposes to.have a swing put up in the barn.
not afraid of any thing, and off you ran like an antelope at the
sound of a little thunder.
Walter. Well, that's a different thing. I did not say that I
was not afraid of thunder and lightning; I said I should not be
afraid .of a bear and a lion, and I should not; and I should not be
afraid of any kind of beasts. But thunder is a different thing.
Thomas. Yes, it is a different thing, it is true, but I don't think
that it is any more to be afraid of.
Top. Never mind about that. Let us go out in the barn and
play. There is a large open place on the barn floor. I wish that
Orkney would contrive to put up a swing there ; he might put up
a swing there just as well as not.
Thomas. Oh no, he could not.
Walter. Why, there are some beams above to fasten the irons
into.
Thomas. I know it, but they are too high; it would be very
dangerous to stand on such a tall ladder as it would take to drive
in the irons.
Walter. But I believe that Orkney could do it.
Top. So do I.
Thomas. He can't do it now, at any rate, so that we can have
it this afternoon.
Top. What shall we play, then ?
Walter. We had better play ball.
Top. Well, I've got a ball. It is up in my room; if Jenny will
only go and get it for me.
Jenny. Yes, I will go. Where is it in your room ?
boasting.
151
Jenny goes for Top's ball. The swing. Walter climbing.
Top. It is in the drawer of my table.
Jenny. Does the drawer open easy ?
Top. Yes, very easy indeed, only you must not open it too far;
if you do, it will come out entirely, and then all the things will
fall upon the floor.
Jenny. I will be careful; I will only open it a little way.
[She goes out.
Scene IIL
Thomas, Waltek, Top, Jenny.
A barn. Top is flaying with a ball in the middle of the barn floor. Jenny
is swinging on a rope tied across in the manner of a swing from one post
to another. Thomas is trying to climb up one of the posts in order to get
to the loft.
Jenny. I'm very much obliged to you, Top, for making me this
pretty little swing.
Top. I wish I had a short board to put in for a seat; but I
have not got any. Some day I'll get Orkney to make you one;
he can make one in five minutes.
Walter (going toward Thomas, who is trying to climb the
post). Let me show you how to climb that post, Thomas ; I can
go right up, like a kitten up an apple-tree.
Thomas. Let us see you do it. I got two thirds of the way
up ; I should like to see you go any higher.
[ Walter begins to climb with a great deal of zeal and preten¬
sion,, but, after getting up about half as high as Thomas had
gone, he becomes exhausted, gives up, and slides down again.
152
BOASTING.
Walter proposes a game of ball. His boast.
Thomas. There! Is that what you call going right up, like a
kitten up an apple-tree ?
Walter (looking somewhat confused). Why, you see, it is the
post; the post is not big enough round. Even a bear can't climb
up a small tree.
Thomas. You did not say any thing about a bear. How is it
with the kitten ?
Walter. Well, I don't believe a kitten could climb up if the tree
was too small. {He goes toward Top.) Let me take your ball,
Top. I want to show you a way to play with it.
Tqp {holding the ball behind him). No, you need not show me;
you may tell me, and then I'll play that way myself.
Walter. Oh, you could not do it; it takes a first-rate player
to do it. It is something very difficult.
Tqp. And you think that nobody can do it but you ?
Walter. No; nobody here.
Top. Well, at any rate, tell me what it is.
Walter. Why, you throw the ball against the side of the barn
pretty high. Then, when it comes back, you stand all ready with
your bat, and on the first bound from the floor you hit it again,
and knock it up against the side of the barn, just as you threw it
the first time. Then, when it comes down, you let it bound once,
and then knock it again, and see how long you can keep it going.
You can't do it at all, but I'll bet you that I can keep it agoing
twenty times without fail.
Top. I mean to try it.
[lie throws up the ball, and when it comes down he stands
BOASTING.
153
Walter tries his skill and fails. He looses Top's ball.
ready, and on the rebound he knocks it back again, but when,
it comes down the second time he misses it
Walter. There! I told you you could not do it. Now let me
take the ball and show you how.
Top. No, I'm going to try it again myself.
Walter. You'd better not, for if you make a wrong hit and
knock the ball up on the hay, you can't get up there to get it
down. Let me try it once, and if I lose the ball I will get it
again; I will, truly.
Top. You can't get up on the hay.
Walter. Oh yes, I can. I can climb right up, and I will, if I
lose the ball up there; I will, upon honor.
Top. Well, you may try it once.
\He gives him the ball; Walter throws it up, but misses it the
first time.
Walter. Ah! that was a mistake; that does not count. You
see, I did not get started.
[lie throws up the ball again, and hits it when it comes down,
but he does not hit a fair stroke, and the ball flies off to one
side, and thence into a corner, where it goes down through a
crevice between the planks of the floor.
Top. There, now, you've lost my ball!
[ The boys and Jenny all go into the corner to look for the ball.
Walter. I declare I did not know there was such a wide crack
in the floor here. Let me look down.
\JETe kneels upon the floor and looks down.
Thomas. What do you see ?
154
BOASTING.
The children looking into the hole in the floor. Various expedients to recover the ball.
. Walter. Nothing. It looks deep and dark down there. If my
hand and arm were only a little smaller, I could reach down and
get it. . Jenny, you reach down. Your arm is very slender.
Jenny (standing back). No.
Walter. Why not ?
Jenny. I'm afraid,
Walter (contemptuously). Afraid ? What are you afraid of?
Jenny {timidly). There are some cobwebs down there. I see
them.
Walter. Cobwebs ! What a little goose! Why should you
be afraid of cobwebs ? Do you think that cobwebs can bite ?
[ Jenny walks away.
Walter. I'll tell you what we will do. We'll pry up one of
the planks, and then we can get down, or, at least, we can reach
down better, for that will widen the crack. Who'll go and get a
crowbar? You go, Top.
Top. No.
Walter. Then you go, Thomas.
Thomas. No, I am not going. And then, besides, you couldn't
pry up the floor, even if you had a Crowbar. It is double. There
is a lower tier of planks under the upper one, and they are all
spiked down.
Walter. Then I don't know what we shall do.
Top (in a sorrowful tone). So, now, you've lost my ball entire¬
ly. But you must find some way to get it again. You promised
me that you would. You said if you lost it you would get it
again.
boasting.
155
The boys propose that Walter crawl into the hole under the bam.
Walter. I said if I lost it on the loft I would get it again; but
I did not think of its going down into that hole.
Thomas (appearing suddenly to recollect himself). I'll tell
you what. There's a place down behind the barn where we can
crawl under.
Top. Tes, I remember it. Let's go and see.
\They all run out.
Scene IY.
Walter, Thomas, Top, Jenny. Afterward Tim and Orkney.
A place behind the barn. An opening in the wall, under the barn, showing a
dark hole. The boys are standing around the hole, looking in.
Top. Come, Walter, you are the one to go in. You lost the
ball down in the hole, and you ought to go in and find it.
Walter. No, indeed, I'm not going into that great black hole.
Thomas. Why not?
Walter. Oh, because. And, besides, if I was to go in, how do
you suppose I could find th^- ball ? It is all dark in there. I
should not know which way to go.
Top. I'll tell you what we could do. I could go into the barn
and thump on the floor right over the place where the ball went
down, and then you could come right along to the place where
you hear the thumps.
Walter {hanging back). No, I'm not going to do any such
thing.
Thomas. Go, Walter.
THE GREAT BLACK HOLE.
BOASTING.
The boy that would not be afraid of a lion is fearful about cats.
Walter. No.
Thomas. Why not? What are you afraid of?
Walter., Why, there might be some cats, or something or other,
in there.
Top. Cats! {The boys shout out with laughter.) Oh, cats!
Here, just now, you were not afraid of lions, or bears, or any kind
of wild beasts, and now you are afraid to face a cat! Oh, Wal¬
ter! \_The boys laugh again immoderately.
Thomas. If it was a lion, now, in there, you would not be
afraid.
Top. And if you had a gun to shoot him.
Thomas. Eight between the eyes.
[ The boys laugh more and more.
Jenny. Boys, be still laughing. You shall not laugh. I should
be afraid to go in among the cats, if I were he.
Top. Oh, it's well enough for you to be afraid of cats, for you
are a girl. Besides, you have not been boasting that you would
not be afraid of lions and bear 4
Walter. Why don't you go j A yourself, Top, if you are so very
bold? f
Top. Oh, I'm not bold; n(or is Thomas; we don't pretend to
be so very courageous. If we were to see a lion or a bear in the
woods, we don't pretend but that we should run away, even if we
had a gun.
Walter. Well—well—eh— [lie looJcs confused.
Top. Besides, you lost the ball there, and you are the one to
go in and get it.
158
boasting.
Tim comes by.
He is afraid of spooks.
Orkney comes.
Walter. {He looks into the hole, and then shrinks back from,
it again, and begins to look about him, as if not knowing what
to say or do.) Ah! there's Tim. He's just coming into the yard
with a basket. He's just the fellow to crawl in there. Tim!
(Calling.) Tim! Come here, Tim!
Walter. What have you got there, Tim ?
Tim. I don't know. It is something that Missis Alden sent.
Walter. Well, Tim, you've come exactly in the right time.
We have lost our "ball under the barn, and we want you just to
crawl in under and get it. It is away out there under the farther
corner.
Tim {shaking his head, and drawing back). Oh no, indeed;
I should not dare to go into such a lonesome black hole as that.
Tojp. Why, what are you afraid of, Tim ? The cats ? What
Walter is afraid of is the cats.
Tim {grinning). No, I'se not j^raid of cats ; I'se afraid of the
spooks. I must go and carry infr'V basket. [He goes out.
Top. Here comes Orkney; he'll tell us what to do. Orkney,
we've lost my ball in under the barn—that is, Walter has; and
now he's afraid to go in there and get it. He says he's afraid of
Orkney. Well, I think he's a sensible fellow.
Thomas. Why, do you think he ought to be afraid of cats?
Enter Tim, with his basket.
cats in there.
\_Top and Thomas laugh.
BOASTING.
159
What Orkney said about Walter. The folly was not in the fear, but in the boast.
Orkney. Yes, in such a placo as that. There might be cats or
rats there, or even other animals, and they might have nests or
young ones ; and if a boy were to go crawling in among them in
the dark, they might come at him, and scratch or bite him.
Top. But he was bragging, just now, that he should not be
afraid to meet a lion or a bear in the woods, if he only had a gun
to shoot them with, and that there was not any animal at all that
he was afraid of.
Orkney. Ah! then he did wrong. It was foolish in him to
boast of not being afraid of a lion, but there is no foolishness in
being afraid of a cat when there is any reason for it.
Thomas. Well, Orkney, don't you think that Walter ought to
go in, notwithstanding, and get Top's ball, since it was he that
lost it ?
Orkney. Let us see. What is it best to do ? If we only had
a light, there would be no difficulty in going in.
Top. But it would not do to .'•ake a light in there. There must
be a great many straws and si eh things, and we might set them
on fire. j
Orkney. We must have a ^intern. Go in the house, Walter,
and get the lantern.
[ Walter goes away, and i>i a few minutes returns with a lan¬
tern.
Top. Now who shall go in ?
Orkney. I'll go in.
Top. And I'll go into the barn, and thump over the place on
the floor, so that you will know where to go.
160
BOASTING.
Orkney, with the lantern, recovers the ball.
[ Orkney takes the lantern, and goes in under the barn. Very
soon a thumping is heard. In a few minutes Orkney comes
out, bringing the ball. Top returns, also, at the same
time.
Top. There it is, all safe and sound. Did you see any cats,
Orkney ?
Orkney. No; I saw nothing but the ball, lying down by the
side of a flat stone.
THE END.