UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 5
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY.
 
 DOINGS 
 
 BODLEY FAMILY 
 
 IN TOWN AND COUNTRY 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "STORIES FROM MY ATTIC," "DREAM CHILDREN," AND "SEVEN LITTLE PEOPLE 
 
 AND THEIR FRIENDS " 
 
 WITH SEVENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BOSTON 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 Hibersiue press, CambriDge 
 
 1881
 
 Ctepyright, 1875, by KURD AND HOUGHTO* 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 
 ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED 
 H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
 
 To SYLVIA AND ETHEL. 
 
 They came by night at the turn of the year: 
 One was dark and one was fair, 
 It would have been lonely for one to be here, 
 So both came down the heavenly stair. 
 
 48S919 
 
 EDUCATION
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY - ... 9 
 
 II. LUCY'S WALK 23 
 
 III. A EAINY DAY IN THE BARN 30 
 
 r 
 
 IV. MAY-DAY .....: 51 
 
 V. MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS . - 69 
 
 VI. MASTER HIGH FLYER . . . . .88 
 
 VII. PROFESSOR WISE . . . . . . . , , . . '. . .106 
 
 VIII. THIRD OF JULY . . . . . 122 
 
 IX. FOURTH OF JULY . .' . . . . .139 
 
 X. A FAMOUS RIDE 157 
 
 XI. ROBBERS! 171 
 
 XII. THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT 186 
 
 XIII. NATHAN'S PIG . 205
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 XIV. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS .' 223 
 
 XV. TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS . 239 
 
 NOTE. The fairy tales in verse were written by a lady not now living, Miss Annette 
 Bishop, who also drew the pictures which accompany them. She had a singularly nice feel- 
 ing for her work, and since it is hardly likely that her scattered poems and pictures will ever 
 be brought together into a volume, the writer has introduced them here, hoping thus to please 
 another generation of children than those who first enjoyed them. Something of the same 
 kind may be said of the three stories in verse, The Battle of Bumble-Bug and Bumble-Bee, 
 Harry O'Hum, and Picture Bob and his wonderful Cob, which are too good to be buried in 
 the pages of an extinct magazine. The Story of the Little Rid Hin is an adaptation made 
 by an anonymous writer from the same story as told in prose in Mrs. Whitney's " Faith Gart- 
 ney's Girlhood." The Lullaby on page 185 also was written by a friend of the author, who 
 believes that he has now by this general confession cleared himself of any suspicion of taking 
 the credit of other people's good work.
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY. 
 
 HE sun was shining brightly one 
 morning in April, and in such good- 
 natured fashion that he was wann- 
 ing both rogues and honest men, 
 and not only spreading his light 
 and warmth over the fields that 
 lay stretched out waiting for him, 
 but hunting through the narrow, 
 high-walled streets of the city, in 
 search of cold and damp places, 
 and traveling just as far from one 
 side of the street to the other as 
 the houses would let him. It was 
 pleasant to see what he was doing in Asylum Street, for he 
 had sought out the Orphan-house, and now its whole red front 
 was glowing ; and it seemed as if the sun were trying his best 
 to work through the thick walls and get at the children with 
 his gigantic smile. The windows let him in, and about them
 
 10 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 were the children clustered, with some drowsy flies, too, that 
 Ijad just begun to wake from their winter's nap and were stum- 
 bling over the panes ; though some, more discreet, had sat down 
 on the sill, and were first rubbing their sleepy heads with their 
 fore-legs. 
 
 The flies had been too sleepy, but the children had watched out of 
 the front of the house while the sun was journeying, and they had 
 seen what was going on opposite. The windows and doors of num- 
 ber 101 were wide open, and three long carts stood in the street. 
 They were furniture-wagons, and men were busy stowing in them 
 the contents of the house. The sidewalk was lively with pieces of 
 furniture that had never come so near each other before. There 
 stood the pompous etagere from the parlor, swelling out grandly ; 
 and yet a towel-horse, standing on two legs only, was rearing up 
 against it. The oil portrait of the great-grandfather, with white 
 neck-handkerchief and his head set on one side like a robin's, was 
 sitting in a lowly rocking-chair hauled up from the kitchen, which 
 gave a thumping sound in its lower part whenever rocked in. The 
 sofa stood against the wall, stretching its arms out ; and it was very 
 improper, but a hat-tub had sat down in it. Things were put on 
 the cart, not in order of merit, but as they happened to fit in best ; 
 though to be sure the parlor furniture was wrapped up in pieces 
 of old carpet, but how different that was from having one's feet 
 on the best carpet ! 
 
 The children could see the pieces come down-stairs and out of 
 doors, and it was great fun to watch each make its way into the 
 street : first one man would appear, staggering backward and look- 
 ing anxiously over his shoulder, while a chest of drawers thumped 
 into him at every step, till his hat was tipped forward and he could
 
 MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY. 11 
 
 not see where he was going to ; and then after the chest the other 
 man, peeping over the top and clinging to it as if he did not want 
 it to go down at all. Then one man would come along, lugging a 
 great mattress, twice as big as himself, around which he pried to 
 see his way down the steps ; and just behind, another carrying a 
 clock in his arms as if it were a child. Then what a work it was 
 to get the piano out ! Six men, two behind, two in front, and two 
 in the middle, stumbled to the doorway, and then the two middle 
 men had to squeeze past, and they had nothing to take hold of; 
 and then the children thought it was going to fall, but it did not, 
 and it was safely lodged in the cart, and the men came down 
 again, triumphantly bringing the legs and the piano-stool and the 
 swell. They all took off their hats after that and wiped their 
 heads, and then went up after the bedsteads. There was one 
 huge book-case that came apart in the middle, and had looking- 
 glass doors above : it was a great feat to get that out ; and be- 
 hind it came an ancient secretary, which also could be taken to 
 pieces in a wonderful manner, and was covered with dust behind. 
 
 Now as the orphans looked, they saw three children run 
 down the steps, and at that they became very lively. 
 
 " That is Nathan ! " cried one of the boys ; " he has got a 
 bow-gun in his hand." 
 
 " And there is Phippy," said a little girl ; " she does n't stand 
 still a minute. I should n't think those piano men would like 
 to have her climbing up on the cart." 
 
 " Lucy is carrying her kitten," said a third. "It is that very 
 same black-and-white kitten that she brought here one day." 
 
 " There, the carts have all gone. There were twelve loads ; I 
 counted," said the one who had spoken first. Still the children
 
 12 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 seemed to be waiting for something. Nathan marched solemnly 
 up the street with his gun on his shoulder, and looked round 
 the corner, but came back shaking his head. Lucy sat down 
 on the upper step holding Kitty in her lap and humming to 
 her ; while Philippa did nothing but run up and down the steps 
 and race to the corner and back. Their mother was in the 
 house, hunting through every room to see that nothing was left 
 behind, and collecting all the stray articles into a little heap on 
 the parlor floor. But at last she heard the children shout, 
 
 " Mama, it has come ! " shouted Philippa. " There is the car- 
 ryall ! " and she hopped up and down on the sidewalk. A bay 
 horse with a white nose was drawing the carryall, and in side 
 sat Martin the man. 
 
 " Whoa ! " said Nathan to carryall, horse, and man. Martin 
 laughed and jumped out of the carriage. " You stopped him 
 that time you did, Master Nathan," said he ; " but don't fire 
 your gun at him." 
 
 " I am going to fire a salute to the orphans," said Nathan, 
 who had been thinking about it a good deal, and before any- 
 body could say no, or he could get his gun quite straight, he 
 pulled the trigger and away went an arrow right over to the 
 Orphan-house. 
 
 " Oh, you 've shot the orphans ! You 've shot the orphans ! " 
 cried Philippa, as she saw the arrow go through one of the win- 
 dows. 
 
 " It ought to have gone straight up," said Nathan, very much 
 frightened, " and come right down again." 
 
 " I must go over at once," said Mrs. Bodley. " Nathan, how 
 could you ? " and she hurried away, alarmed, but almost laugh- 
 ing, too. The matron met her at the door.
 
 MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY. 13 
 
 "Is any one hurt?" she asked, quickly. 
 
 " No," said the matron, " though it is a wonder, for the chil- 
 dren wete all crowded about; but the arrow's force was nearly spent 
 on the glass, and it fell down inside, scattering the glass about." 
 
 " I am truly sorry," said Mrs. Bodley. " My little boy was 
 very foolish. He meant to fire a salute, as he said, to the chil- 
 dren," and she smiled ; " for we are all sorry to leave their 
 pleasant faces. We ought to bid them good-by, Mrs. Keeper ; " 
 and so saying, she beckoned to the children in the carriage. 
 
 " Come here, children," said she. Philippa and Lucy came 
 slowly over, Lucy crying and hugging her kitten, and Phippy 
 looking very solemn and very red ; but Nathan was on the back 
 seat of the carryall, with his head buried in the cushion, calling 
 to Martin to drive off as fast as he could, for he had killed an 
 orphan. His mother came hurrying over, and opening the door, 
 called out, 
 
 " Nathan, nobody is hurt. It was very careless in you ; but 
 you must come over and bid the children good-by, and tell Mrs. 
 Keeper how sorry you are." 
 
 Nathan got out very much tumbled up, and holding his 
 mother's hand, walked gravely across the street. The orphan 
 children were all in the entry or on the staircase, and Phippy 
 and Lucy were saying good-by. Nathan hung back a little, and 
 then said : 
 
 " Mrs. Keeper, I did not wish to kill any one. I am very 
 sorry ; I meant to give a salute, but the arrow went the wrong 
 way. I would give you the bow-gun," he added, seriously, " but 
 we are going into the country, and I suppose I shall need it 
 there. There may be Indians. I can get another arrow," but
 
 14 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 still he looked somewhat wistfully toward the arrow which Mrs, 
 
 Keeper held. 
 
 " My little boy must pay for the new glass," said Mrs. Bodley, 
 
 t( and for any other mischief which he has done." 
 
 " Indeed, there is little," said Mrs. Keeper, good-naturedly, 
 
 " and he may have his 
 arrow again ; but I 
 hope you will take 
 better aim, Nathan, 
 when you shoot In- 
 dians." The orphan 
 children all huddled 
 together at this, and 
 looked with awe on 
 their little neighbor, 
 who now began to feel 
 more grand. 
 
 " Good-by, children," 
 said he, loftily waiving 
 his arrow toward them, 
 and marching across 
 the street, with his 
 bow-gun on his shoul- 
 der, followed by his 
 mother and sisters. 
 
 " Nathan, you de- 
 serve a good, sound 
 
 Bidding the Bodleys good-by. whipping," Said MrS. 
 
 Bodley; "but how few get their deserts," she added to herself.
 
 MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY. 
 
 15 
 
 And now at length the carryall with its load was off, Nathan 
 and Phippy being on -the front seat with. Martin, while Lucy 
 and her mother were behind. All the way up Asylum Street, 
 the children flung out their good-byes, pu.tting their heads out of 
 the carryall on one side and the other. Mrs. Batterman's house, 
 a one story shed with tar roof, stood next their own. 
 
 "Good-by, Mrs. Bat- 
 terman," shouted Na- 
 than, shaking his hand 
 at it. " You won't think 
 our water leaks into 
 your house again. You 
 ought to see old Ma'am 
 Di Batterman, Martin," 
 and he began to tell 
 him about her ; but 
 just then they passed 
 the place where he had 
 been run over by Mr. 
 Wilkins's milk-cart, and 
 he must tell about that : 
 they were not the only 
 people moving, either. 
 " Mother," cried Nathan, 
 turning suddenly round, 
 " there is solemn Jacobs 
 moving. That 's his dog. 
 Here, Jip, Jip ! " and Sol ' m Jacobs with hs Dog and Clock ' 
 
 he put his head out of the window and called to a little black-
 
 16 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 and-tan that Sol'm Jacobs, as the sign read over a tobacconist's 
 near by, was dragging along rather reluctantly. 
 
 " Jip does n't want to go, Thanny, does he," said Philippa. 
 
 " I wonder if the clock wants to go," said Mrs. Bodley. 
 
 " Why, mama, of course it goes ; that 's solemn Jacobs carrying 
 it," said Nathan. So they went on, and he and Phippy kept up 
 a great clatter, shaking their hands at the people and laughing 
 with glee, while their mother hushed at them, and Martin 
 clucked at the horse, as if they were a grand procession such as 
 never had passed up the street before, and must do it now in 
 fine style. The horse jogged along leisurely, and seemed to 
 think it a very ordinary occasion. 
 
 " This is a pretty good horse of ours, Martin," said Nathan, 
 now that they were out of the street and fairly away. 
 
 " Well, yes," laughed Martin. " He 's a bit of a weaver." 
 
 " A weaver ? " said Mrs. Bodley. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; but Mr. Bodley, he said it would n't make much 
 matter, you see." 
 
 " A weaver ! " said Nathan. " Why, I thought a weaver was 
 a man, like like" and he tried to think of a weaver. 
 
 " Like Bottom," suggested Mrs. Bodley. " Bottom was a 
 weaver." 
 
 " Yes, like Bottom," said Nathan, who had never heard of 
 him before. 
 
 " Well," said Martin, " when your Mr. Bottom weaves, he 
 just pushes the shuttle from one side to the other and moves 
 along with it ; and so when a horse in his stall moves his head 
 back and forth along the crib, we say he is a weaver." 
 
 " What is his name ? " asked Mrs. Bodley.
 
 MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY. 17 
 
 " The last folks that had him called him Peter, ma'am," said 
 Martin. 
 
 " But what is his last name ? " asked Philippa. " Peter what ? " 
 
 " That I never heard," said Martin. 
 
 " I know what it is," said Nathan, who already felt himself 
 master of the horse ; " it 's Bottom, because he 's like the man 
 that mother knows. Get up, Peter Bottom." 
 
 Mr. Bottom wagged along with the party, and the farther they 
 went the more excited were the children, who had not yet seen 
 the place where they were to live, and who only knew that it 
 was a brick house in the country, three miles from Asylum 
 Street. The street they were driving on became wider and the 
 houses more rare. They left the city behind, but had not yet 
 come to green fields. 
 
 " Now we are on General Street," said Mrs. Bodley, and the 
 children, knowing that their new home was on that street, be- 
 came very much excited. 
 
 " This must be the place," cried Nathan. " Stop, Mr. Bottom.. 
 Stop, Martin. Whoa ! " 
 
 " Oh, how nice ! " said Phippy ; " there is a garden in front." 
 But it was not the place, only a poor sunburnt brick house with 
 a patch of ground squeezed in between it and the street. As 
 they drove on, the street became freer and the houses more 
 scattered. But though they had pleasant gardens about them, 
 they were nearly all built of wood. Then they began to see 
 barns and little patches of market-garden. 
 
 " Oh, look ! look ! " cried Lucy. " There is a real calf just like 
 the one in my picture-book." 
 
 " Stop a moment, Martin," said Mrs. Bodley, " and let the 
 
 2
 
 18 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 children see the pretty sight." There was a shed right by the 
 kitchen door of a plain, old-fashioned farm-house, that stood there, 
 though all the houses built at the same time in the neighbor- 
 hood had long been gone. A young girl, a little older than 
 Phippy, was holding out some grass in a pan to a big bossy 
 calf, while her little brother, about Nathan's age, stood looking on, 
 and the mother with a smaller boy in her arms watched them. 
 There was a cat on a hogshead, too, but the cat had her own 
 notions about things. She thought so good a tin pan as that 
 might hold something better than grass. 
 
 " Do let me get out, mother ! " exclaimed Nathan, and he 
 seized the side of the carryall. 
 
 " No, no, Nathan. We '11 come to see them some time. We 
 have n't a great way to go now. Drive on, Martin." 
 
 They passed by a cliff of rocks where men were at work drill- 
 ing ; and then on the other side of the way, as they went up 
 the hill, they saw a stone castle, as Lucy said, a real stone 
 castle with a tower, and she was pretty sure people shot out 
 of the windows. 
 
 " Only let them shoot at us ! " said Nathan, bravely, and he 
 tried to get at his bow-gun, which was on the bottom of the 
 carryall. But they were at the top of the hill, and Mrs. Bod- 
 ley's "Now then, children !" made them all put their heads 
 out and peer excitedly about. 
 
 " I see it, I see it ! " said Phippy, jumping out of her seat 
 and almost falling over on to Mr. Bottom. 
 
 "That!" said Nathan. "That is not it; it is not near the 
 street at all. Our house is near the street." But Martin, who 
 had been here before, suddenly turned a corner and drove 
 through a gate-way up an avenue.
 
 MOVING INTO THE COUNTRY. 21 
 
 " Oh, here we are ! " laughed Lucy, and then she stooped 
 over and told Kitty. 
 
 " No, we 're not at all," said the obstinate little Nathan ; " our 
 house is on the street. This is not a street. What are you 
 going up here for, Martin?" 
 
 " Well, Master Nathan, I 'm just going to put Peter Bottom 
 up in the barn, and put you up in the house." 
 
 " Is it the house, mother ? " persisted Nathan. But she only 
 laughed and said that Mr. Bottom lived here, at any rate. 
 
 " Well, not my Mr. Bottom," said Nathan. " Your Mr. Bot- 
 tom, the real weaver." 
 
 "0 Nathan, do stop!" cried Phippy. "Just see! Isn't it 
 splendid ? And there 's the barn, and oh ! I can see the hay." 
 
 " And there are chickens," said Lucy, putting her little head 
 out and calling to them. 
 
 The avenue up which they had driven wound through a pleas- 
 ant field up to the house. It was bordered by narrow flower- 
 beds, and in the beds stood flowering shrubs and young trees, 
 which would some day grow to be large and arch over the road, 
 but now the}^ hardly shut out from light the field on the left, 
 where a dozen stout cherry-trees grew ; and that on the right, 
 which was a grassy plat stretching up a little hill, and disappear- 
 ing whither they could not say on the other side of the rising. 
 At the end of the avenue stood the house. It was not a very 
 splendid house, but it was a good one to live in. Two locust- 
 trees stood in front of it, and in the corner, where the wooden 
 shed was joined to the house, was a graceful elm. The house 
 had a red, good-natured face, looking as if it had set itself 
 down squarely in this open country, where it could draw a long
 
 22 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 breath and not be too crowded for elbow-room. It had win ? 
 dows that leaned out on the roof, and looked oft' one way 
 over the hills, the other toward the sea. 
 
 The children, who entered with their mother, went into all the 
 rooms, and came at last into the upper story of all. What a splen- 
 did place that was ; for there was one great room covering the 
 entire floor, and the six windows, three on each side, w r ere the 
 windows that looked off so far. A window-seat was below the 
 middle one on each side : climbing up on one, they could see over 
 the garden and into the pasture, and beyond among the rocks and 
 trees that were about May Pond, and still farther away, the blue 
 hills that rolled along in gentle line beneath the blue sky. Then 
 from the other side, at foot was the barn and the little houses that 
 straggled about it, for pig and cow and hens ; the kitchen-garden, 
 the currant-bushes, the apple-orchard ; and farther off, the bay, 
 which opened into the broad sea ; and away off, as far as one could 
 look, were white-winged ships, sailing out of sight beyond the edge 
 of the sky and water, or coining nearer to draw up to the great 
 city, the houses of which could also be seen, and the bells, when 
 they rang, sent their sounds up to the house and into the children's 
 play-room. 
 
 The sun when it rose looked in at the windows on one side, and 
 saw the children's playthings ; and when it had gone its round and 
 could look into the opposite winodws, perhaps it would see the chil- 
 dren at play, but this was only in winter, for on sunny days in 
 summer they were always in the garden or in the pasture. But in 
 winter it could see them ; and perhaps just as it went down behind 
 the earth in the west, it stopped to take one more look at three 
 little children nestled together on the cushioned window-seat, chat-
 
 LUCY'S WALK. 23 
 
 tering to one another, or two little children playing cat's-cradle or 
 checkers, or one little child reading a book spread out on her lap. 
 How could the sun be willing to set at all ! 
 
 Now let us learn what the children of the Bodley family see and 
 hear and do and say in the house and garden and pasture. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 LUCY'S WALK. 
 
 " Now, children," said Mrs. Bodley, "you may run out to play. 
 It will be an hour yet before we have dinner. Don't go very far 
 from the house, and when you go into the barn, mind what Martin 
 says." 
 
 The three children stood by the front door, which was open, 
 looking at the two locust-trees that stood on a little oval grass-plat 
 in front, round which the carriage road passed. Phippy was think- 
 ing whether they could not have a little house there ; Lucy was 
 wondering whether there was a bird's nest among the branches, and 
 if they would hear a locust or see them come skipping along to eat 
 trees as they did in Egypt ; and Nathan was thinking about Mr. 
 Bottom, who had been taken out of the carryall. 
 
 " Come," said Lucy, " let 's go into the garden." 
 
 " Well, we will go round by the barn first," said Nathan ; " I '11 
 show you the way," and he ran down the steps, the little girls after 
 him. But they had not been in the wood-shed yet, so Nathan led 
 them through that, though he had never been there either, and it
 
 24 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 was not the shortest way, but he felt like a captain. There was a 
 great pump in the wood-shed which worked very hard, and the 
 spout, instead of being inside the shed, was thrust through the wall 
 out of doors, where the water, coming out of the spout, passed into 
 a wooden gutter that led down a grassy bank to a horse-trough, a 
 place where little boys who sailed chip boats were likely to get 
 their sleeves wet. It looked droll enough, to come toward the 
 house and see the water suddenly pop out of this spout, as if the 
 whole house were a reservoir of water, just to fill this little trough. 
 Nathan tried the pump and found it hard work to get the handle 
 down, which sprang up with a jerk when let alone, and held itself 
 high up in the air, as if it did not wish to be pumped with ; but 
 Phippy, who had run outside, and was watching the spout intently, 
 oalled out after a while, " it's coming," and Nathan rushed out just 
 in time to see a few drops trickle out of the spout into the gutter. 
 The trough was nearly full, and a green border lined the edges, and 
 on the sides and bottom there was a green moss growing, which 
 waved gently its languid arms when the children dabbled in the 
 water with their hands ; for the trough had been there for many 
 years, and no one had disturbed the moss. 
 
 " Let 's make boats and sail them here," said Phippy. 
 
 " No, I 'm leader," said Nathan, " and you must follow me. We 
 are going into the barn first, to see Mr. Bottom ; " and he marched 
 off as if he were the owner of the place. The carryall stood out of 
 doors, backed on to the border of a flower-bed and stretching out 
 its shafts in front in a comfortable, after-dinner fashion, but the horse 
 was in his stall, and Martin was in the hay-loft. The children heard 
 a strange, regular sound as they stood clustering about the stable 
 door not daring to go in. Mr. Bottom was before them, but they 
 could not see his head very well.
 
 LUCY'S WALK. 25 
 
 " What is Mr. Bottom doing," asked Nathan of Martin, who just 
 now came down the steep steps that led from the hay-loft. 
 
 " Oh, he 's weaving now, Master Nathan ; you know I told your 
 ma he was a weaver." 
 
 " But I can't see him." 
 
 " Do let 's come into the garden," said Lucy. 
 
 " Suppose we play in the carryall," said Phippy. 
 
 " I want to see Mr. Bottom weave," said Nathan, who never let 
 an idea get out of his head, though it was hard sometimes to get 
 one in. 
 
 "I'll put you right on these steps, then," said Martin, and he 
 perched Nathan in an uncomfortable manner on the edge of 'a step 
 where the delighted little boy could sit, free from danger, and see 
 the horse's head move steadily, backward and forward, exploring his 
 crib from one end to the other, and from the other end to the one. 
 The little boy sat staring at Mr. Bottom, and wondered if he really 
 were going to make some cloth. 
 
 " Phippy ! Lucy ! " he cried, " Come up here and see him weave." 
 But the children had walked away, for they did not like the stable 
 very much. 
 
 " Do let us take a walk through the garden and pick some 
 flowers," said Lucy, who had rarely been in the country before, ^-nd 
 thought she should find the whole world now bearing flowers. But 
 Phippy wanted to stop a moment at the trough again and sail a 
 little chip into which she had stuck a pin through a piece of paper, 
 and so had made a ship and a sail. 
 
 " You walk along slowly, Lucy," said she, " for I must get my 
 ship into port first, and then I '11 run and overtake you." So Lucy 
 left Nathan on the steps in the stable, watching Mr. Bottom weave,
 
 26 DOL\GS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 and Phippy by the trough sailing her ship, and went off alone. She 
 had her doll Sarah in her arms, though she called her " Salah," 
 for she was not able to pronounce her r's very plainly. She walked 
 down a path which led past a little arbor covered with honey- 
 suckle vine. She did not know it, but there, later in the summer, 
 she was to see humming-birds darting in and out. The path led 
 through what was called the Grapery, a long succession of arched 
 
 trellises. There would be one of these arches, with seats on either 
 
 \ 
 
 'side, then a little round flower-bed, about which the path turned, 
 then another arch with seats, then another flower-bed, and so on. 
 There were six of these long arches, and though the vines were 
 bare of leaves now, it would not be long before they would be 
 covered with green leaves, and then later with clusters of Isabella 
 grapes. Lucy thought it was a beautiful arbor, and she walked 
 slowly along, every once in a while stopping to sit upon one of the 
 seats. She would put Salah down on the seat, and then climb up 
 herself, and sit with her little legs dangling. 
 
 After a while she came out at the other end of the arbor and 
 then she was in the orchard. There were stubby old apple-trees 
 that had low boughs, and there were some dead, withered little 
 apples that had lain on the ground all winter, but she did not 
 gather any, for they did not look very nice. Beyond the orchard 
 there were other trees, and as Lucy walked along, she heard a 
 fluttering sound and a soft %)he-be. phe-be. It was a chickadee that 
 was building its nest in the hollow of an old tree, and every little 
 while it would stop and peep forth, gently, phe-be, phe-be. In 
 winter the little bird is very lively and brave, and then it chips 
 forth in a bright, merry way, chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. 
 Lucy stood still, as the little brown bird flew about.
 
 LUCY'S WALK. 
 
 27 
 
 " Salah." she whispered, it 's a bird, and she 's building a 
 nest." Yes, the nest was building in the old tree, and almost every 
 
 The Chickadee's Nest. 
 
 day Lucy walked softly to the place and stood and listened, but she
 
 28 DOINGS (7F THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 was such a gentle little girl that the chickadees were never afraid 
 of her, and at last, three very little chickadees looked up out of their 
 nest, while the parent birds told them of a little girl who had been 
 there so often to watch for them. 
 
 But to-day Lucy walked on toward what was called The Hollow, 
 where the kitchen-garden was. She kept along by the side of it, 
 and came at length to a low fence which separated the field from 
 a pasture beyond. There was a path which led up to the fence, 
 and a break in the fence, where the path crossed into the pasture. 
 Just here was an old spring which bubbled up and ran into a hogs- 
 head let into the ground, used for watering the cattle that were 
 pastured near by. They had worn the path down the rocky slope 
 to the spring, and a rude bar thrown across the opening in the fence 
 prevented them from crossing into the field and so getting into the 
 hollow. 
 
 As Lucy came to the fence, she heard a noise, and looking 
 through saw a man, a little girl, and a monkey, sitting on the 
 ground by the spring. The monkey saw her first and ran to the 
 man's shoulder, where he sat, chuckling at her. Lucy stood and 
 looked at them. She saw a hand-organ on the ground and she 
 knew that these must be organ-grinders. She had seen them in 
 the city streets, but to find them out here in the country ! and right 
 by her father's place ! The little girl was eating some bread, and 
 she stared hard at Lucy. 
 
 " Do you live here ? " asked Lucy, a little timidly, of the girl. 
 
 " No, miss, we 're only resting." 
 
 " My father lives here," said Lucy. " We 've moved out." 
 
 The man nodded. 
 
 "Would you like to hear a tune, little girl?" said he.
 
 LISA AND HER FATHER.
 
 LUCY'S WALK. . 31 
 
 "Oh, ever so much," said Lucy; and so he set his organ up and 
 turned his crank and ground out " The Boys are marching." 
 
 " Please play i Three little Kittens," said Lucy. 
 
 " That tune isn't in this organ," said the man, smiling. 
 
 " Why, can't you play anything you want to ? " said Lucy, aston- 
 ished. " My mama can." 
 
 " I can play a tune," said the little girl, " and I can dance," and 
 she shook her tambourine and danced on the grass, singing aloud. 
 
 " Yes, Lisa is a good girl," said the man. " She can sing, and 
 she can dance, can't she ? " 
 
 "Are you her father, sir ?" asked Lucy, gravely. 
 
 " Yes, I 'm her father. I 've got another little girl, about as big 
 as you." 
 
 " I don't think I should like to go about in the streets," said Lucy, 
 who had been thinking about it. " I think it is nicer out here. I 
 must go home now. Good-by, Mr. Organ-Grinder. Good-by, Lisa," 
 and she nodded her head, and turned away, carrying Salah with 
 her. She did not like to go into the pasture, and she wondered 
 why Philippa and Nathan did not come. She turned back by the 
 way she had come, and had reached the top of the hill, when she 
 saw the other children. As soon as they caught sight of her they 
 ran toward her. 
 
 " O Lucy," said Phippy, " where have you been ? we 've looked 
 everywhere for you." 
 
 " I went there," said Lucy, pointing with her hand, " and there, 
 and I saw a bird, and I saw a monkey, and an organ-man, and a little 
 girl, and the little girl danced. See, there they go ! " The chil- 
 dren looked and saw the man with his organ at his back and the 
 monkey perched on top, with the little girl following behind, as they 
 made their way across the field.
 
 32 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Were n't you frightened ? " asked Phippy. 
 
 " Why, no," said Lucy. " They 're good people* They wouldn't 
 hurt me." 
 
 " I never ! " said Phippy. " I should have been scared." 
 
 " Just let me catch them ! " said Nathan, fiercely. " I wish I had 
 my bow and arrows. I left them in the house." 
 
 " Come ! " said Phippy, " mother says it 's nearly dinner time ; 
 and, Lucy, you haven't an idea how splendid it is in the barn. 
 I 'm going to hunt for eggs after dinner. I do hope it is n't going 
 to rain." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 
 
 IT did not rain immediately after dinner, but it began shortly 
 before night and it rained all night, and the next morning when 
 the children woke it was raining still. 
 
 " I am afraid we can't go out of doors," said Phippy, mournfully. 
 
 11 Oh yes, children," said Mrs. Bodley. " If you want to go to 
 the barn after breakfast, Martin will carry you over, and you 
 can have a good time playing there all the morning." 
 
 " I should like to ride over on Mr. Bottom," said Nathan. 
 
 " Why, it 's only across the yard, Nathan," said Phippy ; " be- 
 sides, you could n't ride." 
 
 " Yes, I could," said the little boy. 
 
 " Well, you can try Martin's back first," said his mother. So 
 after breakfast, Martin, who was a good-natured fellow, came to 
 the shed and brought a bushel basket with him.
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 33 
 
 "What's that basket for?" asked Phippy. 
 
 "That's the coach you 're to ride in," said Martin. He put her 
 into the basket, and threw a water-proof over her. 
 
 " There ! " said he, lifting the basket to his shoulder. " There 's 
 an ear of red corn in that bushel, I '11 warrant," and he strode off 
 to the barn, while Nathan and Lucy and their mother stood at 
 the door and watched them. He placed the basket on the floor, 
 took away the cloak, and up jumped Phippy, laughing, and began 
 to dance on the smooth barn floor. Martin came over again, and 
 this time he took Nathan, who tumbled about so in the basket 
 that he nearly upset his bearer. Then he came the last time for 
 Lucy. 
 
 " I guess I '11 leave the basket here, Mis' Bodley," said he, and 
 he caught up Lucy in his arms, threw the cloak over her, and 
 ran as fast as he could to the barn, where he put the little girl 
 down with the other children ; and now they began to scamper 
 about and to laugh, and to run races across the floor, while the 
 rain came down in torrents outside. 
 
 They watched Martin as he went about his work, and Nathan 
 grew very red in the face as he tugged at the pitchfork and tried 
 to lift a bunch of hay with it. 
 
 "Now, Nathan, just leave that alone," said Martin, good- 
 naturedly, "or' you '11 be running those prongs into something. 
 Why, up at my father's farm in New Hampshire, when I was a 
 little boy, I thought I 'd run some hay through the hay-cutter, to 
 make some chop-feed, and I pushed it, and jammed it in, and 
 kept turning the wheel, and the next thing I knew I had sliced 
 off the end of one of my fingers." 
 
 " Oh," screamed Phippy, " did you find the piece ? "
 
 34 DOINGS OF THE RODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " No, that I did n't, though I swept the barn floor for it. I 
 thought if I could find it, I'd stick it on again. So you 
 mustn't meddle with edge tools." They all looked at him with 
 a little awe, and Lucy tried to see his finger ends, but she did n't 
 exactly like to ask him to show them. " I 've got a box of tools 
 out here," continued Martin, " that I '11 show you. Some day, Na- 
 than, I '11 show you how to use them." Martin was very proud of 
 his tools, and he took the children to a little light closet in the 
 barn, where he kept his own private belongings, and opened his 
 chest, and showed them saws, and planes, and gimlets, and screw- 
 drivers, and a spirit level, and chisels, and all manner of bright and 
 sharp tools. 
 
 " Have you got an adze ? " asked Phippy. 
 
 " No," said he, looking queerly at her, " I have n't. What made 
 you ask ? " 
 
 " Why I had the word in my spelling-lesson the other day, and 
 teacher said it was like a hatchet. I thought I should like to see 
 an adze. It is such a funny looking word." 
 
 " I 've got a hatchet," said Nathan, " and you can draw nails 
 with it. I '11 lend it to you, Martin, some time, if you '11 be care- 
 ful. It was a present to me." Martin laughed, and said he had 
 a hatchet. 
 
 " Why, here 's some maple sugar," said Lucy, who had not 
 cared much about the tools and was wandering about Martin's 
 closet. The children turned to her, eagerly. 
 
 " Sure 's you 're alive," said Phippy. " Is it yours, Martin ? " 
 
 " I guess so," said he. " I made that sugar." 
 
 "Why," said Nathan in astonishment, "do you know how to 
 make maple sugar. I thought it had to be made by black men."
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 35 
 
 " Did you never see maple sugar made ! Now, I tell you, you 
 children may each have a cake, and we '11 go up into the hay- 
 mow, and I '11 tell you all about it, while you 're eating it." 
 
 " Oh, goody ! " they all shouted, and one after another they 
 clambered up and were helped up by Martin until they were all 
 snugly ensconced in the hay. 
 
 "You see," said Martin, " my father has a farm up in Coos 
 County, New Hampshire, and there are lots of maples on it, and our 
 folks have made sugar for ever and ever so long, and we 've always 
 made it in the old-fashioned way. We 'd go out in the orchard and 
 cut a notch in the side of a sugar maple, and drive in a flat piece 
 of wood, tipped down just a little, so 's to make a kind of gutter for 
 the sap to run down, and put a kind of trough underneath to catch 
 the sap when it dripped off the gutter, see ? " 
 
 " But where did you get your sap ? " asked Nathan. 
 
 " The sap ? why, the sap 's in the tree, that 's what we make the 
 sugar of. When the spring begins to come, before the snow 's off 
 the ground, the sap begins to start in the trees, and it just creeps 
 along inside and runs all through the tree, and if you bore a hole 
 and tap the tree, you let the sap out ; the tree 's full of sap, and it 
 can't get out, see ? Now if you were up in the country in sugar- 
 ing time, I guess you little folks would be going round, tasting the 
 sap as it came out the tree." 
 
 " Well, when the sap 's got to running, we have a kind of hut out 
 in the bush, and we build a fire there, and hang a kettle over it, 
 and then we go and get the sap that 's in the troughs, and bring 
 it in buckets and fill the kettle. Many 's the time Hen and I have 
 been out on snow-shoes to get it." 
 
 " Why I should think they would have been freezing cold," said 
 Phippy.
 
 36 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Cold ? they were n't cold. They kept our feet out of the soft 
 snow." 
 
 " But I should n't want to put my feet right into snow shoes, it 
 seems to me," said Phippy, looking puzzled. 
 
 Tasting Sap. 
 
 "Oh," said Martin, laughing, "I see you never saw a pair of 
 snow-shoes, did you ? " 
 " No," said Phippy. 
 1 Well, you can't buy them in the stores round here, I guess.
 
 MAKING MAPLE SUGAR.
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 39 
 
 We used to make them. They 're flat things, made by twisting a 
 stick, so as to make a sort of bow, with the ends close together, and 
 you brace it with a couple of braces, and then you twine cords 
 back and forth in a kind of net- work, see ? They look a little like 
 a salt fish ; and you slip your feet into a noose on top of each, and 
 go skimming along over the snow ; but if you 're not used to them, 
 you stick them into the snow, and then over you go." 
 
 " I wish you 'd make me a pair," said Nathan. 
 
 " Well, perhaps I will next winter. Hen and I used to make 
 them. Well, now you put the sap into the kettle and boil it, and 
 you boil away all the water that 's in the sap and you get a thick 
 syrup. I tell you it 's great fun, tasting it. Somebody has to be 
 skimming it every little while with a big ladle, to get the scum 
 off, but the boys and girls take spoons and saucers and dip a little 
 out and let it cool and then try it. Then when it's all sugared 1 , 
 off, you put it in little pans and let it harden. You make maple 
 wax too, by pouring the syrup before you sugar off on to the snow 
 and stir it a little till it 's just hard enough and sticky enough to 
 handle, see ? " 
 
 "Weren't you afraid of bears out there in the woods?" asked 
 Nathan. 
 
 ' Well, there were bears, and I saw them once or twice, but I 
 guess I was more afraid of a bob-cat than 'most anything else." 
 
 " What 's a bob-cat ? " asked Phippy. ; < I don't think I should be 
 afraid of a cat." 
 
 " Wait till you see one out in the woods, with a little tail not 
 much bigger 'n a rabbit's, and a head like a cat's, and hear him 
 meaouw, and see him spring like a painter." 
 
 " Oh my ! " said Lucy.
 
 10 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 ' Hen and I were out one day in the woods," continued Martin, 
 * walking along a narrow path, when we heard a bob-cat coining 
 towards us. We had n't any gun, or a knife, or a stick even, and 
 there wasn't any good tree to climb. Says I, ( Hen, it will never do 
 to. turn and run ; the cat '11 be sure to chase us.' ( Let 's stop right 
 here/ says Hen, ' and stand stock still and look at him. I 've heard 
 you can frighten a wild beast that way.' We had n't any time to 
 talk about it, for just then along came the bob-cat, trotting down 
 the path right toward us. I tell you I felt pretty scared, but I just 
 stood and stared right at the beast, and Hen, he stared at the beast, 
 and the beast, he stood stock still and stared at us, he did. I felt 
 my heart go thump, thump, just like an engine inside o' me, and I 
 daresn't whisper, even to Hen. I suppose it was n't more 'n a min- 
 ute, but it seemed a quarter of an hour, before any of us moved ; 
 then the bob-cat gave it up and started down the side of the hill, 
 making a great yowling, and Hen and I, we turned and ran home 
 pretty fast. I 've seen bob-cats since, but I never had one look at 
 me so hard." 
 
 " Let's go into the house," whispered Lucy to Phippy. 
 
 " Why, there- are n't any bob-cats out here in the barn," said 
 Martin. 
 
 " I guess they would n't stay here long, Martin, would they," 
 said brave little Nathan. " I 'd get my bow and arrow and shoot 
 them." 
 
 " Well, now," said Martin, " did you ever see a fox ? " 
 
 " I 've seen pictures of them," said Nathan. 
 
 " There used to be lots of them about our farm," said Martin. 
 " I was out one day in winter with my gun, and I saw a fox chasing 
 a hare ; they were going just as fast as they could go. The hare
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 43 
 
 was running for dear life, and the fox was running for the dear 
 hare. There was a light snow on the ground, and just as the fox 
 was within one of putting his paw on poor Bunny, I shot him ; away 
 flew the hare, and I let her go. I thought it was a pity to shoot her 
 after she had had such a narrow escape. I skinned the fox and 
 nailed his skin on our barn door. They used to get our hens and 
 chickens, and bothered us dreadfully." 
 
 " Oh, I know a story about a fox and a hen ! " cried Phippy. " 1 
 learned it once in a book and said it at school." 
 
 " Oh it's a real funny story," said Lucy. " Do tell it, Phippy." 
 
 " It 's poetry," said Phippy. " Would you like to hear it, Mar- 
 tin ? " 
 
 " Have ye the pot a-bilin' ? " said Nathan. 
 
 " Now, Nathan, don't you spoil it. It 's my story," said Phippy. 
 
 " Let 's hear it," said Martin. So Philippa repeated the story, as 
 she had learned it, as if she were a little Irish girl brimful of fun. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE LITTLE RID HIN. 
 
 There was once't upon a time 
 
 A little small rid bin, 
 Off in the good ould country 
 
 Where yees ha' nivir bin. 
 
 Nice and quiet shure she was, 
 
 And nivir did any harrum ; 
 She lived alane all be herself, 
 
 And worked upon her farrum 
 
 There lived out o'er the hill, 
 In a great din o' rocks,
 
 44 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 A crafty, shly, and wicked 
 Ould folly iv a fox. 
 
 This rashkill iv a fox, 
 
 He tuk it in his head 
 He 'd have the little rid hin : 
 
 So, whin he wint to bed, 
 
 He laid awake and thaught, 
 What a foine thing 'twad be 
 
 To fetch her home and bile her up 
 For his ould marm and he. 
 
 And so he tbaught and thaught, 
 
 Until he grew so thin 
 That there was nothin' left of him 
 
 But jist his bones and shkin. 
 
 But the small rid hin was wise, 
 She always locked her door, 
 
 And in her pocket pit the key, 
 To keep the fox out, shure. 
 
 But at last there came a schame 
 Intil his wicked head,
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 
 
 And he tuk a great big bag 
 And to his mither said, 
 
 45 
 
 Now have the pot all bilin' 
 
 Agin the time I come ; 
 We '11 ate the small rid hin to-night^ 
 
 For shure I '11 bring her home." 
 
 And so away he wint 
 
 Wid the bag upon his back, 
 
 An' up the hill and through the woods 
 Saftly he made his track. 
 
 An' thin he came alang, 
 
 Craping as shtill 's a mouse,
 
 46 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 To where the little small rid hin 
 Lived in her shnug ould house. 
 
 An' out she comes herseF, 
 Jist as he got in sight, 
 To pick up shticks to make her fire : 
 "Aha!" says fox, "all right. 
 
 " Begorra, now, I '11 have yees 
 
 Widout much throuble more;" 
 An' in he shlips quite unbeknownst, 
 An' hides be'ind the door. 
 
 An' thin a minute afther, 
 In comes the small rid hin, 
 
 An' shuts the door, and locks it too, 
 An' thinks, " I 'm safely in." 
 
 An' thin she tarns around 
 An' looks be'ind the door ; 
 
 There shtands the fox wid his big tail 
 Shpread out upon the floor. 
 
 Dear me ! she was so schared 
 Wid such a wondrous sight, 
 
 She dropped her apron-full of shticks, 
 An' flew up in a fright,
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 
 
 An' lighted on the bame 
 
 Across on top the room ; 
 " Aha ! " says she, " ye don't have me, 
 Ye may as well go home." 
 
 47 
 
 "* Aha ! " says fox, " we '11 see ; 
 
 I 'll bring yees down from that." 
 So out he marched upon the floor 
 Right under where she sat. 
 
 An' thin he whiruled around, 
 An' round an' round an' round, 
 
 Fashter, an' fashter, an' fashter, 
 Afther his tail on the ground. 
 
 Until the small rid hin 
 She got so dizzy, shure, 
 
 Wid lookin' at the fox's tail, 
 She jist dropped on the floor. 
 
 An' ( fox he whipped her up, 
 An' pit her in his bag,
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 An' off he started all alone, 
 Him and his little dag. 
 
 All day he tracked the wood 
 
 Up-hill an' down again ; 
 An' wid him, shmothrin in the bag, 
 
 The little small rid hin. 
 
 Sorra a know she knowed 
 
 Awhere she was that day ; 
 Says she, " I 'm biled an' ate up, shure, 
 
 An' what '11 be to pay ? " 
 
 Thin she betho't hersel', 
 
 An' tuk her schissors out, 
 An' shnipped a big hole in the bag, 
 
 So she could look about. 
 
 An' 'fore ould fox could think 
 She lept right out she did,
 
 THE RAINY DAY IN THE BARN. 49 
 
 An' thin picked up a great big shtone, , 
 An' popped it in instid. 
 
 An' thin she rins off home, 
 
 Her outside door she locks, 
 Thinks she, " You see you don't have me. 
 
 You crafty, shly, ould fox." 
 
 An' fox, he tugged away 
 
 Wid the great big hivy shtone, 
 Thimpin' his shoulders very bad 
 
 As he wiut in alone. 
 
 * 
 
 An' whin he came in sight 
 
 O' his great din o' rocks, 
 Jist watchin' for him at the door 
 
 He shpied ould mither fox. 
 
 " Have ye the pot a-bilin' ? " 
 Says he to ould fox thin ; 
 " Shu re an' it is, me child," says she ; 
 " Have ye the small rid hin ? " 
 
 " Yes, jist here in me bag, 
 
 As shure as I shtand here ; 
 Open the lid till I pit her in : 
 Open it niver fear." 
 
 So the rashkill cut the sthring, 
 
 An' hild the big bag over ; 
 " Now when I shake it in," says he, 
 " Do ye pit on the cover." 
 
 : < Yis, that I will ; " an' thin 
 
 The shtone wint in wid a dash, 
 4
 
 50 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 An' the pot o' bilin' wather 
 Came over them ker-splash. 
 
 An' schalted 'em both to death, 
 So they could n't brathe no more ; 
 
 An' the little small rid hin lived safe, 
 Jist where she lived before. 
 
 Martin laughed, and laughed. 
 
 " Well, now," said he, " I never. I 'd like to have had that hen. 
 I '11 warrant she 's living yet." 
 
 " Martin ! children ! " came a voice from the distance. 
 
 '-' Hark, there 's mother calling," said Nathan, and they all scram- 
 bled down. They had been so interested in their stories, that they 
 did not think what time it was, and now they found that the rain 
 had stopped, and the sun was shining brightly. It was nearly din- 
 ner time, too, so the children went back to the house, and had the 
 hay-seed brushed out of their hair.
 
 MA Y-DA Y. 
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MAY-DAY. 
 
 HE evening of the 
 last day of April, 
 as the Bodley 
 children went up- 
 stairs to bed, Phip- 
 py's voice could 
 be heard above 
 the rest, as she 
 sang over and over without stop, 
 " Wake me early early mother 
 for I 'm to be Queen of the May." 
 Lucy threw in her piping voice 
 to the same words, and Nathan 
 asserted stoutly that he was to be 
 King of the May. It was their 
 first May-day in the country, and 
 though they were only three miles 
 from the city where they had lived 
 all their short lives, and had shiv- 
 ered on May-day quite as much as 
 on the last day of April, yet they 
 were in the country, and of course 
 May-day would be beautiful and 
 warm, and everybody would dance round May-poles just as they 
 had read in their English story-books. 
 
 An old English May-pole.
 
 52 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Kindly enough, May-day did begin fair. It was as lovely a day 
 as heart of child could desire. The sun rose gayly, and hurried 
 away the light clouds, that he might dry the grass, and warm the 
 damp earth ; and he was not a moment too early, for he had not 
 yet taken the chill out of the air when the children came out of 
 the shed and scampered about doing their little chores before break- 
 fast, that they might be ready to start on their day's excursion 
 immediately afterward. There were the hens and chickens to be 
 fed ; and Nathan with the corn measure, Phippy with a tin pan of 
 meal, and Lucy with a watering-pot, all set out for the hen-house. 
 They raised the wooden latch of the white-washed door, and all 
 crowded in to the hen-house, shutting the door after them before 
 any of the fluttering family should fly out over their heads. There 
 were one or two hens still setting, and they only peeked at them 
 on tiptoe, and then went into the yard, which was surrounded by 
 high palings. An old apple-tree stood in the middle, never known 
 to bear more than a scanty half-dozen pinched and crabbed little 
 apples ; but it was a tree, and made the hen yard look like a good 
 place for hens to live in. The ground was riddled with the scratches 
 of countless hens, and one would think that not a worm would 
 ever dare to show his head above the ground. The hens and 
 roosters fluttered about, picking up the corn that the children 
 scattered, all of them running hastily after each handful, as if this 
 time they were going to get something especially good, though a 
 few prudent ones remained busily picking over the last scatter. 
 Lucy poured some water into the little trough, and then they went 
 out and mixed some meal and water for the chickens. It was pretty 
 to see these. The mother anxiously clucking and moving back and 
 forth under her coop, while the chickens, stretching out their pudgy
 
 MA Y-DA Y. 53 
 
 wings, would come streaming to the coop for breakfast. One little 
 fellow, too /at to run Between the slats, was squeezed there, sticking 
 his drumsticks vigorously into the ground behind him, and peeping 
 piteously until Lucy poked him through, and then he wanted to 
 come right out again, for he seemed just to have discovered that 
 the cold hasty-pudding was outside. 
 
 " I wonder if they would n't like some syrup on their hasty- 
 pudding," said Phippy. " I should think it would choke them. 
 Look at that little dear ! she can't get it down." 
 
 " It 's the turkey chick," said Nathan. " That 's the only turkey 
 chick we 've got. I don't see why the turkey eggs don't hatch 
 better. Oh, she 's dying ! " 
 
 " Oh, he 's dead, he's dead ! " cried Lucy, as the turkey chick, 
 from some mysterious internal disease, or more likely, because too 
 greedy, fell over and gasped once or twice. 
 
 " We must bury him," said Phippy with great promptness. "We 
 must bury him, and cover him with rose leaves, and have a box 
 with a velvet lining, and a procession. I 've read all about it in 
 some story. And then we must put a chip over him. Come." 
 
 "-It is n't a him," said Nathan. " It 's a shim, a she I mean, I 
 don't see why turkey eggs won't hatch. It 's real mean," and he 
 looked rather angrily at the poor little turkey chick that Lucy had 
 taken up and was smoothing down. " I don't want to bury her. 
 She has n't done anything worth being buried for. She has n't got 
 any soul. She 's a little heathen." 
 
 "0 Nathan, heathens have souls," said Lucy. "You mustn't 
 say that. They have real souls." 
 
 " Yes," said Phippy, " first-rate ones, and we '11 call the turkey 
 chick a heathen, and bury her; and, oh, I tell you what we'll
 
 54 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 throw things at her. I mean, we '11 play she 's in the Ganges, 
 and her mother comes and shrieks out, and throws herself on the 
 burning pile, this way," and Phippy threw up her arms, and uttered 
 a very shrill shriek. But just then the breakfast-bell rang. 
 
 " I tell you what," said Phippy, who had a new plan every min- 
 ute. " We '11 take her out to the Grove with us, and bury her in 
 the gorge, and we '11 pretend she was an Indian warrior, and I '11 say, 
 1 Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note,' " and so coming up to 
 the house, they put the little chick away behind the trough until 
 after breakfast. 
 
 " Well, children," said Mr. Bodley at the table, " what do you 
 mean to do on May-day ? " 
 
 " Oh, we 're going to the Grove," said Phippy, " and we 're going 
 to be gone all day. May be we shall build a house, and live there, 
 and you can come and see us, and bring mother if you want to, and 
 we 're going to bury the turkey chick." 
 
 "The turkey chick?." 
 
 " Yes," said Nathan, with his mouth full. " She wempt n'bibe 
 this morm." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " She went and died this morning at half-past six. Father, I 
 don't see why I can't raise turkeys. We can't have any at Thanks- 
 giving now, and I meant to raise a roast turkey." 
 
 "Well, there 's your pig," said Mr. Bodley. " That will last all 
 winter." 
 
 " Oh, my pig ! " said Nathan, starting up. " I forgot my pig. 
 Mother, may I go out and feed my pig ? I forgot all about him 
 when that old turkey died, and then the bell rang." 
 
 " Eat your breakfast first, and then you can finish feeding all the
 
 MA Y-DA Y. 55 
 
 cattle before you go to the .Grove." The cattle was the name given 
 to Nathan's pig and rabbits, and the hens and chickens. The pig 
 belonged to him, for he had bought it with his own money, and he 
 fed it every day, and cherished it as his special delight. Even the 
 pair of rabbits which had been given to him were not quite so dear 
 to him as his own pig, which he had bought with his own money, 
 and was fattening up for the winter, when his father had promised 
 to buy him if he was fat enough. The pig-sty was a neat place back 
 of the barn. The little house was clean and tidy, and the sty be- 
 tween the pig-house and stable was fenced in by a tall board fence, 
 which was painted, and covered with a pretty rose vine. When the 
 time of roses came, the fence was covered with the bright flowers ; 
 but they had no other name with the children than pig-sty roses : 
 they smelt just as sweet, however, with that name. Nathan could 
 just jump up so as to catch hold of the top of this wooden wall, and 
 then he would struggle, pulling himself up, with his toes knocking- 
 against the boards, 'and his knees scraping, until, with a very red 
 face he would peer over the top; and piggy hearing the noise, would 
 come grunting out, and stare for a moment at the little boy who 
 thought so much of him, and who could only keep his place a mo- 
 ment, and then went rasping down the boards to the ground. 
 
 This morning, after the pig was fed, and the rabbits too, the chil- 
 dren set out to spend their May-day in the Grove. Nathan carried 
 his bow and arrows, a hatchet, and a long bean-pole which trailed' 
 behind him ; Phippy had a covered basket which must have beeni 
 very important, for she would let nobody look inside of it ; and very 
 heavy too, since she changed hands every little while ; Lucy had her 
 doll Salah in her arms, and she carried also the little turkey chick, 
 while Lucy's kitty scampered along with them.
 
 56 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 \ 
 
 The Grove was a little clump of walnut-trees which stood on a 
 rocky slope at the farther end of the place where the Bodleys lived. 
 The whole place contained about thirty acres, besides a large piece 
 of pasture-land, but only seven acres were owned by Mr. Bodley. 
 The rest of the land, however, was just as free for the children to 
 play in, and indeed was not fenced off from their own lot. They 
 had discovered this grove to their great delight, and thought it a 
 most wonderful piece of woods. A few bushes scrambled about, and 
 there were little ledges of rocks as much as ten feet high, where one 
 could jump off, besides one great boulder, not at all easily to be 
 climbed, which they called Samson's Nut-cracker. Then there was a 
 mysterious ravine running down between some rocks, closely hedged 
 about with barberry bushes. They had never gone far into it ; I 
 think they were just a little afraid. They called it The Gorge, 
 which sounded very mysterious to them, "just like a great throat," 
 said Phippy, " that could swallow us up if we went down." Beyond 
 the Grove and the Gorge was a gentle slope, and beyond that lay a 
 road, while on the right the rocky pasture began, and there they 
 .had not yet ventured. 
 
 It was at the Grove that they meant to spend the May-day ; and 
 'they had found a sheltered cranny in the ledge, where they meant 
 to build their house, and live the livelong day. A walnut-tree grew 
 close by, and a big rock, not so large as Samson's Nut-cracker 
 though, protected them on the side toward the road. The leaves 
 from the walnut-tree had quite choked up the cranny, and Nathan 
 announced that they must first clear away the underbrush. 
 
 " That is the way they always do in new settlements," said he. 
 " They cut down trees and clear away the underbrush, and then 
 they build a house. We '11 let this tree stand for the present," he
 
 THE REAL ROBINSON CRUSOE.
 
 MAY-DAY. 59 
 
 added kindly, and then throwing off his jacket, he took up his 
 hatchet and fell to cutting and dashing away at the twigs and little 
 branches that stuck out in their cave. They pulled out the leaves, 
 but left enough to make a soft cushion on the ground, and were 
 surprised to find that a crack in the ledge, where the leaves had 
 gathered, reached in farther than they could see or feel. 
 
 " That will be good in case of danger," said Phippy. " It is an 
 underground passage, and comes out on the other side of the ledge. 
 No, it is n't ; it 's a place to store provisions in. No it is n't either ; 
 it 's our children's bedroom," and she proceeded to stow the dolls in 
 it upon a temporary bed of leaves. " They must endure privations," 
 she -said. "We are in a new country, and cannot expect the luxu- 
 ries of home. Children," she went on, " if you ever miss me from 
 home, don't be uneasy. You may know that I am safely hidden in 
 the cave. I shall have a barrelcade at the entrance, to prevent wild 
 animals from getting in, ting a tang, ting a tang, poor Robinson 
 Crusoe. Then there will be a book written about The Wonderful 
 Adventures of Philippa Bodley, with illustrations." 
 
 " Nathan, Phippy," said Lucy, seriously, " we have n't buried the 
 turkey chick yet." 
 
 " Oh, bother the turkey chick," said Nathan. " We ought to 
 buikl a fort to keep out the Indians." 
 
 " No, Nathan, it is n't right. We must bury the turkey chick 
 first." 
 
 *' I tell you what," said Phippy, who was never at a loss for tak- 
 ing advantage of each turn. " We '11 bury the turkey chicjc, and 
 Nathan will protect us with his bow and arrows. He will give the 
 alarm if the Indians are coming, and then we '11 hurry back to the 
 house, and bar the door, and shoot out of the window, and you and
 
 60 DOINGS OF THE RODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 I, Lucy, will bring cartridges in our aprons. I 've seen a picture 
 just like it." 
 
 So it was decided, and they looked about for a good place to bury 
 the turkey chick in. 
 
 " This the first one of the family," said Phippy, " and she can 't 
 expect much of a funeral, or much of a seminary either. Oh, here 's 
 a beautiful place ! " 
 
 It was a shady copse into which the children peeped. A few 
 bushes straggled around it as if they had been set there to keep off 
 intruders, but were getting rather negligent. A low brick wall 
 about six feet long, and a foot and a half above ground, stood there ; 
 some of -the bricks had fallen out, and it was moss-covered and 
 stained. The children looked on in wonder. Then light broke on 
 them, and they all exclaimed, 
 
 " Why it's a tomb! " 
 
 Yes, an old tomb, or at least a grave of some sort, with the 
 little old brick wall that looked like a head board to the old bed in 
 which some sleeper had been lying, evidently for many years. They 
 drew nearer, and discovered a gray tablet, with the letters and date, 
 P. B. 1675. 
 
 " Here is the place to bury her in," said Nathan. 
 
 "Yes, and P. B. 1675; that will do for Poor Biddy, 1675 seconds 
 old," said Phippy, promptly. 
 
 "I don't know," said Lucy, a little awe-struck, " I don't think 
 I would bury her here." 
 
 "Yes, I would," said Phippy. "We'll put her under one of the 
 bushes. It's a weeping willow " 
 
 So they buried the little chick under a weeping willow barberry 
 bush, and Nathan was so interested that he forgot their danger from
 
 MAY-DAY. 61 
 
 Indians, until suddenly the sound of voices made them start up and 
 leave the little chick only half covered. 
 
 " Indians ! " whispered Nathan. " Run ! quick ! " 
 
 The little girls gave a scared look through the bushes, and saw, 
 coming across the grass, a company that they could not make out 
 exactly, but there was a flag, and something red ; they did not look 
 twice, but ran as fast as they could to the cave, which they could 
 reach indeed without being seen. Nathan, too, came scrambling 
 after, trying to fix an arrow into his bow-string, and stumbling over 
 sticks and stones as he went. 
 
 " Keep still, keep perfectly still," said he, .when they were all 
 safely in the cave. " I am going out to reconnoitre." 
 
 " I 'm glad we 've got provisions enough to last," chattered 
 Phippy, who was half frightened at what might be coming, and half 
 believed her own fancy that they were Indians. Nathan cautiously 
 peeped round the rock, but could see nothing. Then he lay down, 
 and dragged himself over the ground with his bow and arrow, till 
 he was very red in the face, and very dirty. At last he got where 
 he could see the company. It was a party of large boys, all dressed 
 in red flannel shirts, and carrying a banner which bore the motto, 
 " All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." They had a drum 
 and a fife, and were marching along, directly toward the Grove. 
 Nathan scrambled back to the cave and whispered to Phippy and 
 Lucy. Lucy covered the dolls up with leaves, and made Kitty keep 
 perfectly still in her lap, while she sat, her little heart beating as 
 the dreadful boys came nearer and nearer. Phippy was too excited 
 to sit still. She whispered first to Nathan and then to Lucy, looked 
 to see if the baskets were well hidden, proposed first that they 
 should climb the tree, then that Nathan should hold a parley.
 
 62 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Hold a parley, Nathan ; they always do," she shouted in a whis- 
 per ; " go out with a white flag. Here 's my pocket-handkerchief. 
 No, I tell you " - 
 
 At this moment an unearthly whoop from one of the boys made 
 their hearts stop. Then there was a shout and a rush, and when 
 Nathan peeped out again, the Jacks and their banner were stream- 
 ing down the road at a great pace, following their leader, a young- 
 ster with a prodigious power of lungs, who was whooping them on, 
 no one knew whither. 
 
 " Oh, what a narrow escape ! " said Phippy. " My husband ! my 
 children ! let us look after our cattle, to see if they are safe ; " and 
 the little girl ran out in great excitement, followed by the others, 
 who capered about in great glee, while kitty scampered back and 
 forth amongst them. Then they set up their May-pole, but they 
 could find few flowers, save a few columbines that grew by the 
 ledge, and these they tied round the pole, not knowing exactly how 
 a May-pole was crowned. They took turns in being Queen, except 
 Nathan, who was King. They could not well join hands in dancing 
 round each other, but they danced just as hard ; and when they 
 made kitty Queen, and tried to dance round her, they got into a 
 great frolic, and scampered laughing all over the field, for their 
 Queen was very capricious, and led her subjects a fine life of it. 
 
 When noon came they had their dinner. They spread the table 
 on a flat rock near the mouth of the cave, and imagined all sorts of 
 wonderful things while they were eating. Then they found some 
 dead boughs and sticks, and finished their house by making a sort 
 of roof for it, which they covered with a loose thatch of leaves. 
 
 " Now our house is built," said Nathan ; " we are in a settled 
 country, and there are no more dangers."
 
 MAY-DAY. 63 
 
 " Oh yes, there are," said Phippy. " We are in danger from the 
 British. They may come at any time and burn our house down." 
 
 " And the Mexicans, too," said Lucy ; for it was then not long 
 after the war with Mexico, and the children heard enough of the 
 newspapers to have their heads filled with fighting. 
 
 " Then we '11 figh-t for our liberty," said Nathan. 
 
 " ' Strike for your altars and your fires.' 
 How does the next line go, Phip ? " 
 
 " ' Strike for the green graves of your sires ! ' 
 
 Nathan,'! tell you, we must defend the tomb. The British are 
 coming, and we must take up our last stand there. Come, quick ! " 
 and away rushed the children to the little copse where poor Biddy 
 lay half buried, and wholly forgotten, while they got down behind 
 the old brick wall and fired at imaginary British coming up. 
 
 " I '11 be the British army," said Phippy. " You must n't fire till 
 you see the whites of my eyes," and she darted out of the copse, 
 and presently came prancing up to the tomb, like a whole British 
 army on horseback. 
 
 " Fire ! " shouted Nathan, and carried away by his excitement, 
 he really shot off his arrow, which whizzed dangerously near Phippy. 
 
 " Here, here ! " said Mr. Bodley, who had come up, unseen by 
 the children, while Mrs. Bodley was following across the grass. 
 " This is rather dangerous sport, Nathan." 
 
 " father, I did n't mean to fire, but the arrow went right off. 
 It 's a gun, and Phippy is the British, and Lucy and I are defending 
 the grave of our sires. We 've made our last stand here, sir." 
 
 " Well, well, we 've done quarreling with the British now. Just 
 see here, Sarah," to Mrs. Bodley, who was now looking in upon the
 
 64 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 group ; " the children have been playing at fighting the British over 
 old Paul Bodley's grave." 
 
 " Paul Bodley ! " exclaimed Phippy. " Is P. B. Paul Bodley, and 
 was he " 
 
 " To be sure he was. He was your great, great, great, great- 
 grandfather." 
 
 " Why, papa, did he use to live here where we live ? " 
 
 " Yes, he lived by the ledge back there, but there is no trace of 
 his house .there now. Here he lived, and here he died and was 
 buried, and his sons lived here afterward, until the Revolution. Do 
 you want to hear about the old gentleman ? " 
 
 " Oh, do tell us right here." 
 
 " Not now," said Mrs. Bodley. " It 's growing late. But after 
 tea I rather think papa will tell you a little, if you are not too 
 sleepy." 
 
 Then Mr. Bodley took Lucy up on to his shoulder, and they set 
 out for the house, a merry procession. It still lacked a half hour 
 of tea time, but it was a pleasant, warm afternoon, and the children 
 sat upon the door-step looking out upon the locust-trees and the 
 lawn, and talking about their day's sport. 
 
 " I should n't wonder," said Lucy, " if that Grove were a place 
 where the Fairies went sometimes." 
 
 " I think," said Phippy, " that they like mountains best : no, I 
 don't either, I think they like to live like Will o' the Wisp in the 
 meadows ; yes I do too. I 've read somewhere about fairies in the 
 mountains. Let 's ask mama." So mama was called and she 
 told them the story of
 
 MAY-DAY. 
 
 65 
 
 THE FOUR QUEER ELVES- 
 
 Rufliecumtuffle and Floppytyfly, 
 Bibbetybobble and Kickittygo, 
 Were four queer elves 
 Who lived by themselves 
 On a mountain high, 
 And scorned the fairies that dwelt below. 
 
 But Rufflecumtuffle was a real dandy, 
 With whiskers flowing wide and sandy; 
 And had wonderful wings 
 Painted with gold and scarlet rings; 
 And he longed to dance in the fairies' hall, 
 For he t knew he must outshine them all. 
 5
 
 66 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 So Rufflecumtuffle determined to go, 
 
 And did not mean that the others should know. 
 
 He sought for a steed, 
 
 To take him down the mountain with speed ; 
 His long-tailed mouse that pranced so gay 
 
 Had stolen away. 
 
 So he had to harness an honest toad 
 
 To his mushroom car, and take the road. 
 
 Twice on the way, his car broke down ; 
 
 And while he patched it with sticks and things, . 
 
 He was heard to say, " By black and by brown," 
 
 He was tempted to take to his wings. 
 
 But safely he reached the fairies' hall, 
 
 And was kindly and gayly greeted by all. 
 
 Now Bibbetybobble and Kickittygo and Floppytytly. 
 
 Were terribly sly, 
 
 When they found themselves on the mountain alone, 
 They guessed where Rufflecumtuffle had gone, 
 
 And wanted to go themselves, 
 
 The silly, comical elves !
 
 MAY-DAY. 07 
 
 So they harnessed a turtle safe and slow 
 To their family coach, and Kickittygo 
 Held the reins and flourished the whip ; 
 And down with many a bump and slip 
 They rode, till they reached the fairies' hall, 
 And were kindly greeted and welcomed by all. 
 
 Rufflecumtuffle was striding about 
 
 With his head thrown back, and his chest thrown out, 
 
 And held himself so stiff and prim 
 
 That the fairies would surely have laughed at him 
 
 If they had not been quite 
 
 Too good and polite. 
 
 He had danced and danced with the prettiest fay, 
 And twisted his mustache every way, 
 
 And paraded his wings 
 
 With the gold and scarlet rings, 
 
 And felt so vain and proud, 
 
 That he almost chuckled aloud. 
 
 But when he saw his brothers three 
 Come rubbing their hands with elvish glee, 
 
 With shame and dismay 
 
 He almost fainted away. 
 
 But a fairy flew 
 
 For a cup of the strongest perfumed dew, 
 And gave him to drink ; and they brought sweet w'ne 
 Out of the red-horned columbine; 
 And passed it around to the elves, 
 
 Who then straitway 
 
 Became so gay, 
 
 That they hardly knew how to contain themselves ; 
 And when the ravishing music began, 
 The fairy flutes and viols sweet,
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Then it was that each elvish man 
 Felt such a lightness iii his feet, 
 That, snatching the hand of the nearest fay, 
 Round they whisked in the wildest dance, 
 Oh ! I wish, I wish you had been that way 
 To see them curvet and see them prance. 
 Bibbetybobble tumbled about 
 Just like a fat old humble bee ; 
 Floppytyfly you could hardly see, 
 
 He went so fast ; and Kickittyg'o, 
 
 His legs like the spokes of a wheel rayed out ; 
 
 And Rufflecumtuffle, you never will know 
 
 How he danced, for I never can tell ; 
 
 And oh ! 't was a wonderful sight for me ; 
 
 And if ever again 
 
 The elvish men 
 With the fairies dance, you must go and see. 
 
 The children all laughed merrily over this and called each other 
 by the names as well as they could, for some time. The sun went
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 69 
 
 down on three tired little children, and the story about Paul Bodley 
 and his grandchildren was not told them that night, but they did 
 not fail to ask for it until they got it. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MICE, .RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 
 
 NATHAN had a birthday on the twentieth of May, and for a present 
 a wonderful little house with white mice living in it. This house 
 had belonged to an aunt of Nathan's who had long been sick and un- 
 able to leave her room, and she kept it with the mice to amuse her. 
 Now she was going away on a long journey to Europe, and as she 
 had often amused Nathan when he' came to see her, by showing him 
 the mice, she thought she would give him the house and the mice, 
 quite sure that he would take good care of them. A house that can 
 go on a table is worth having, for though you cannot go inside of it 
 yourself, you can move it about where you want it, and that is more 
 than you can do with a large house. 
 
 Nathan's house was called Mouse Castle, and in Mouse Castle lived 
 two white mice. There were two stories to Mouse Castle. In the 
 first story, on the ground floor, was their large hall in which they 
 could race about. There was a door at the end, and when Nathan 
 or Phippy wished to feed the mice they brought crackers to the door 
 and gave them little bits which they took inside. Then there was a 
 little wire ladder which led from the floor of the hall to a long; ffal- 
 
 O O 
 
 lery which looked down upon the hall. At the end of the gallery
 
 70 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BbDLEY FAMILY. 
 
 was their bedroom. Some bits of cotton had been given them, and 
 they had pulled it to pieces and made a soft bed of it. From the 
 gallery there was another wire ladder which ran up into what was 
 called the Pavilion, and the hole where it popped out was sur- 
 rounded by a wire balustrade. The Pavilion was an open hall, 
 roofed over, with a balcony in front, and a gate to close .the bal- 
 
 Mouse Castle. 
 
 cony, but sometimes the gate was open, and a little ladder was 
 fastened to the front, up and down which the mice could run. But 
 what they liked best to do, was to run through their attic cham- 
 ber to a revolving wire wheel at the farther end and go round and 
 round on it, as fast as it could be made to whirl. It was odd,
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS.' 71 
 
 though, that only one of the mice would play in the wheel at a time. 
 They tried at first to play in it together, but it would not whirl very 
 well for some reason ; one would perhaps try to go one way and the 
 other the other way, and so the wheel would not turn, or if one hap- 
 pened to stop a moment, while the other one kept on turning, over 
 he would go heels over head ; so after a while they concluded to 
 play in it by turns, and when one was whirling the other would 
 stay in the house or go down to the Pavilion, or perhaps run out to 
 the front door to see if the provision merchant was not going by. 
 If the little mouse in the wheel kept whirling round and had so 
 good a time as to forget the other one, his companion waiting out- 
 side would dart into the wheel, remind the little rogue that it was. 
 his turn now, and then they would change places. 
 
 The children had often played with these mice at Aunt Janet's,, 
 and Nathan was as pleased as he could be at actually having for his- 
 own, Mouse Castle and the little mice that lived in it. It was 
 brought into the room after breakfast on Nathan's birthday, and the 
 children played with it until school time and then hurried home to 
 play till dinner time, and after dinner they played with it till they 
 went to school again, and after school, when he came home to sup- 
 per, Mr. Bodley found them still gathered before it. 
 
 " Father," said Nathan after supper, " I do believe that these mice 
 like music. I have been singing to them, and they stood still, close 
 together, right here on the Pavilion. I could see their hearts beat." 
 " Oh play the bagpipe to them, papa ! " cried Phfppy. 
 " Yes, do," said Nathan. I 'm sure they 'd like it." 
 " Oh," said Lucy, softly, and looked at her father rather anxiously, 
 " Well, Lucy," said he, " shall I play it ? " She came close to him 
 and whispered in his ear.
 
 72 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 "I don't believe I'll play the bagpipe," said Mr. Bodley. 
 " These mice are city mice, and I don't believe they ever heard 
 such queer music. It would frighten them. What they like is to 
 hear gentle music. Now when Jean Marot played the bagpipe he 
 played a music that could charm wolves." 
 
 " Oh tell us more about Jean Marot," said Nathan. He was a 
 Frenchman who lived at grandpa's, wasn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he was an old Frenchman who came over from France in 
 times when there was a war there ; he was a poor man, and hid him- 
 self on board one of your grandfather's ships. Nobody found it out, 
 until they had been at sea several days. Then he crawled out from 
 behind some barrels, with nothing but his old bagpipe in his hand. 
 He had eaten the few scraps he had brought with him, and was 
 nearly dead with hunger and cold and sea-sickness. He stood there 
 and made a bow, and at first the sailors were frightened, but the 
 captain could speak French, and he found out what the matter was. 
 Jean lived in the woods in the northern part of France, and he had 
 a son who ran away from home to America. Jean lived alone, till 
 his wife and all of his children had died, and then he was so home- 
 sick to see his boy Robert that he walked to the sea-coast and waited 
 for a chance to hide himself in some ship bound to America. He 
 did not know how big our country was, but he thought of course lie 
 would find Robert here. He asked the captain about him, but the 
 captain could not tell him anything. He used to play on his bag- 
 pipe to the sailor* and they danced to the music, but it was very 
 queer music. 
 
 I was a little boy when he came to your grandfather's house. 
 The captain brought him there, and he was so old and feeble that 
 grandfather let him live with us. He was very fond of me and used
 
 
 THE WOLF CHARMER.
 
 MICE, RATS, AND 1'JGGER ANIMALS. 75 
 
 to play the bagpipe to me, and tell me stories about the woods in 
 which he lived. He taught me how to play his queer old instru^ 
 ment, and I learned some of his odd tunes, such as you have heard 
 me play. Lucy thinks they are rather fearful. And no wonder, foi 
 once in a while when it was a warm, sunny day, and Jean had had a 
 good dinner, he used to tell me about the way he could charm 
 wolves. I never quite knew whether to believe his stories, but he 
 said that he would go out into the forest when he heard the wolves 
 howling, and take his bagpipe and begin to play, and pretty soon 
 they would gather about him, a whole pack of them, and follow him 
 like a flock of sheep." 
 
 " Martin has seen a bear," said Nathan. 
 
 " Well, I don't believe Martin ever played his accordeon to a 
 bear." 
 
 " Oh yes, he has," cried out Phippy, " and made him dance to it." 
 
 " That was a tame bear, Phip," said Nathan. " He never played 
 his accordeon to a bob-cat, anyway." 
 
 " Well, Jean used to tell me how he played to the wolves, till 
 they would rub themselves against his legs, and then he would stick 
 out his leg for me to see, and say, i There, right there ! ' and I used 
 to look at his leg until it looked just like a wolf's paw to me." 
 
 u Well, did you ever try to charm any animals with your bag- 
 pipe ? " asked Mrs. Bodley, who had come in while Mr. Bodley was 
 telling his story. 
 
 " I used to try it on the pigs," said he, laughing, " but I don't 
 think they had much soul for music in them. The fault could not 
 have been in the bagpipe, or in me." 
 
 " I think the Pied Piper had a prettier musical instrument than 
 Jean Marot," said Mrs. Bodley.
 
 76 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Oh, I know," said Phippy. " Tom, Tom, the Piper's son, stole 
 a pig and away he run." 
 
 " I don't believe my Pied Piper's son ever stole a pig," said her 
 mother, laughing. " He was called the Pied Piper, because he wore 
 a dress that was half of yellow and half of red, and he played on a 
 pipe, which is something like Cousin Ned's flageolet. Would you 
 like to hear the story of the Pied Piper ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," they all shouted, and Lucy climbed into her mother's 
 lap. 
 
 " Well," said she, " I will tell it to you in poetry, as I learned it, 
 and then you can all go to bed. Perhaps Lucy will go to sleep as I 
 tell it." So she told the story which is here set down, just as it was 
 written by a great English poet, who wrote it to amuse a little boy. 
 
 THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. 
 
 BY ROBERT BROWNING. 
 I. 
 
 Hamelin Town 's in Brunswick, 
 By famous Hanover city ; 
 
 The river Weser, deep and wide, 
 
 Washes its wall on the southern side ; 
 
 A pleasanter spot you never spied ; 
 But, when begins my ditty, 
 
 Almost five hundred years ago, 
 
 To see the townsfolks suffer so 
 From vermin, was a pity. 
 
 n. 
 
 Rats! 
 
 They fought the dogs, and killed the cats, 
 And bit the babies in the cradles,
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 7T 
 
 And ate the cheeses out of the vats, 
 
 And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, 
 Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 
 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, 
 And even spoiled the women's chatsj 
 
 By drowning their speaking 
 
 With shrieking and squeaking 
 In fifty different sharps and flats. 
 
 in. 
 
 At last the people in a body 
 
 To the Town Hall came flocking : 
 " 'T is clear," cried they, " our Mayor 's a noddy 
 
 And as for our Corporation shocking 
 To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 
 For doits that can't or won't determine 
 What 's best to rid us of our vermin ! 
 You hope, because you 're old and obese, 
 To find in the furry civic robe ease? 
 Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking 
 To find the remedy we 're lacking, 
 Or, sure as fate, we '11 send you packing ! " 
 At this the Mayor and Corporation 
 Quaked with a mighty consternation. 
 
 IV. 
 
 
 An hour they sat in council, 
 
 At length the Mayor broke silence : 
 " For a guilder I 'd my ermine gown sell ; " 
 
 i wish I were a mile hence ! 
 It 's easy to bid one rack one's brain 
 I 'm sure my poor head aches again 
 I 've scratched it so, and all in vain. 
 Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap ! "
 
 78 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Just as he said this, what should hap 
 At the chamber door but a gentle tap ? 
 
 " Bless us," cried the Mayor, " what 's that ? " 
 (With the Corporation as he sat, 
 Looking little though wondrous fat ; 
 Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister 
 Than a too-long-opened oyster, 
 Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous 
 For a plate of turtle green and glutinous.) 
 
 " Only a scraping of shoes on the mat ? 
 Anything like the sound of a rat 
 Makes my heart go pit-a-pat ! " 
 
 v. 
 
 " Come in ! " the Mayor cried, looking bigger : 
 And in did come the strangest figure! 
 His queer long coat from heel to head 
 Was half of yellow and half of red ; 
 * And he himself was tall and thin, 
 
 With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, 
 And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, 
 No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, 
 But lips where smiles went out and in 
 There was no guessing his kith and kin ! 
 And nobody could enough admire 
 The tall man and his quaint attire : 
 ' Quoth one: "It's as my great grandsire, 
 Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, 
 Had walked this way from his painted tomb-ston* ! " 
 
 VI. 
 
 He advanced to the council-table : 
 
 And, " Please your honors," said he, " I 'm able, 
 
 By means of a secret charm, to draw
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 79 
 
 All creatures living beneath the sun, 
 That creep or swim or fly or run, 
 After me so as you never saw ! 
 And I chiefly use my charm 
 On creatures that do people harm, 
 The mole and toad and newt and viper; 
 And people call me the Pied Piper.' 1 
 (And here they noticed round his neck 
 A scarf of red and yellow stripe, 
 To match with his coat of the self-same check ; 
 And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; 
 And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying, 
 As if impatient to be playing 
 Upon this pipe, as low it dangled 
 Over his vesture so old-fangled.) 
 " Yet," said he, " poor piper as I am, 
 In Tartary I freed the Cham, 
 Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats ; 
 I eased in Asia the Nizam 
 Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats : 
 And as for what your brain bewilders, 
 If I can rid your town of rats, 
 Will you give me a thousand guilders ? " 
 " One ? fifty thousand ! " was the exclamation 
 Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Into the street the Piper stept, 
 
 Smiling first a little smile, 
 As if he knew what magic slept 
 
 In his quiet pipe the while ; 
 Then, like a musical adept, 
 To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, 
 And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled
 
 80 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Like a candle-flume where salt is sprinkled ; 
 And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, 
 You heard as if an army muttered ; 
 And the muttering grew to a grumbling ; . 
 And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling: 
 And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 
 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, 
 Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, 
 Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, 
 
 Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, 
 Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, 
 
 Families by tens and dozens, 
 Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives 
 Followed the Piper for their lives. 
 From street to street he piped advancing, 
 And step for step they followed dancing, 
 Until they came to the river Weser 
 . Wherein all plunged and perished ! 
 Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, 
 Swam across and lived to carry 
 (As he, the manuscript he cherished) 
 To Rat-land home his commentary ; 
 Which was : " At the first shrill notes of the pipe, 
 I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, 
 And putting apples, wondrous ripe, 
 Into a cider-press's gripe : 
 And a moving away of pickle-tub boards, 
 And a leaving ajal- of conserve cupboards, 
 And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks, 
 And a breaking the hoops of butter casks ; 
 And it seemed as if a voice 
 (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
 Is breathed) called out, O rats, rejoice ! 
 The world is grown to one vast drysaltery !
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 81 
 
 So, munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, 
 
 Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon ! 
 
 And just as a bulky sugar puncheon, 
 
 All ready staved, like a great sun shone 
 
 Glorious scarce an inch before me, 
 
 Just as methought it said, Come, bore me ! 
 
 I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 You should have heard the Hamelin people 
 
 Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. 
 
 * Go," cried the Mayor, " and get long poles ! 
 
 Poke out the nests and block up the holes ! 
 
 Consult with carpenters and builders, 
 
 And leave in our town not even a trace 
 
 Of the rats ! " when, suddenly, up the face 
 
 Of the Piper perked in the market-place, 
 
 With a, " First, if you please, my thousand guilders ! " 
 
 IX. 
 
 A thousand guilders ! The Mayor looked blue ; 
 
 So did the Corporation too. 
 
 For council dinners made rare havoc 
 
 With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock ; 
 
 And half the money would replenish * 
 
 Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. 
 
 To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 
 
 With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! 
 " Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, 
 " Our business was done at the river's brink ; 
 
 We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, 
 
 And what 's dead can't come to life, I think. 
 
 So, friend, we 're not the folks to shrink 
 
 From the duty of giving you something for drink, 
 6
 
 82 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 And a matter of money to put in your poke ; 
 
 But as for the guilders, what we spoke 
 
 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. 
 
 Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. 
 
 A thousand guilders ! Come, take fifty ! " 
 
 x. 
 
 The Piper's face fell, and he cried, 
 " No trifling ! I can't wait, beside ! 
 
 I Ve promised to visit by dinner time 
 Bagdad, and accept the prime 
 Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he 's rich in, 
 For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, 
 Of a nest of scorpions no survivor : 
 With him I proved no bargain driver ; 
 With you, don't think I '11 bate a stiver ! 
 And folks who put me in a passion 
 May find me pipe to another fashion." 
 
 XL 
 
 " How ? " cried the Mayor, " d' ye think I '11 brook 
 Being worse treated than a Cook ? 
 Insulted by a lazy ribald 
 With idle pipe and vesture piebald ? 
 You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst, 
 Blow your pipe there till you burst ! " 
 
 XII. 
 
 Once more he stept into the street, 
 
 And to his lips again 
 Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; 
 
 And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
 Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 
 
 Never gave the enraptured air)
 
 PIPER OF HAMELIN,
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 85 
 
 There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling 
 
 Of merry crowds jostling at pitching and hustling, 
 
 Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 
 
 Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, 
 
 And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, 
 
 Out came the children running. 
 
 All the little boys and girls, 
 
 With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 
 
 And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 
 
 Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
 
 The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 
 
 As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 
 
 Unable to move a step, or cry 
 
 To the children merrily skipping by, 
 
 And could only follow with the eye 
 
 That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 
 
 But how the Mayor was on the rack, 
 
 And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, 
 
 As the Piper turned from the High Street 
 
 To where the Weser rolled its waters 
 
 Right in the way of their sons and daughters ! 
 
 However he turned from South to West, 
 
 And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 
 
 And after him the children pressed ; 
 
 Great was the joy in every breast. 
 
 He never can cross that mighty top ! 
 
 He 's forced to let the piping drop, 
 
 And we shall see our children stop ! " 
 
 When, lo ! as they reached the mountain's side, 
 
 A wondrous portal opened wide, 
 
 As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed
 
 86 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 And the Piper advanced and the children followed. 
 And when all were in to the very last, 
 The door in the mountain -side shut fast. 
 Did I say, all ? No ! One was lame, 
 And could not dance the whole of the way ; 
 And in after years, if you would blame 
 His sadness, he was used to say, 
 u It 's dull in our town since my playmates left ' 
 I can't forget that I 'm bereft 
 Of all the pleasant sights they see, 
 Which the Piper also promised me. 
 For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 
 Joining the town and just at hand, 
 Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, 
 And flowers put forth a fairer hue, 
 And everything was strange and new ; 
 The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, 
 And their dogs outran our fallow-deer, 
 And honey-bees had lost their stings, 
 And horses were born with eagle's wings : 
 And just as I became assured 
 My lame foot would be speedily cured, 
 The music stopped and I stood still, 
 And found myself outside the Hill, 
 Left alone against my will, 
 To go now limping as before, 
 And never hear of that country more ! " 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Alas, alas for Hamelin ! 
 
 There came into many a burgher's pate 
 A text which says, that Heaven's Gate 
 Opes to the Rich at as easy rate 
 
 As the needle's eye takes a camel in !
 
 MICE, RATS, AND BIGGER ANIMALS. 87 
 
 The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, 
 To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, 
 
 Wherever it was men's lot to find him, 
 Silver and gold to his heart's content, 
 If he 'd only return the way he went, 
 
 And bring the children behind him. 
 But when they saw 't was a lost endeavor, 
 And Piper and dancers were gone forever, 
 They made a decree that lawyers never 
 
 Should think their records dated duly 
 If, after the day of the month and year, 
 These words did not as well appear, 
 And so long after what happened here 
 
 On the Twenty-Second of July, 
 Thirteen hundred and seventy-six : " 
 And the better in memory to fix 
 The place of the children's last retreat, 
 They called it the Pied Piper's Street, 
 Where any one playing on pipe or tabor 
 Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 
 Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 
 
 To shock with mirth a street so solemn ; 
 But opposite the place of the cavern 
 
 They wrote the story on a column, 
 And on the great Church window painted 
 The same, to make the world acquainted 
 How their children were stolen away ; 
 And there it stands to this very day. 
 And I must not omit to say 
 That in Transylvania there 's a tribe 
 Of alien people that ascribe 
 The outlandish ways and dress 
 On which their neighbors lay such stress, 
 To their fathers and mothers having risen
 
 88 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Out of some subterraneous prison 
 
 Into which they were trepanned 
 
 Long time ago in a mighty band 
 
 Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, 
 
 But how or why, they don't understand. 
 
 xv. 
 
 So, Willy, let me and you be wipers 
 
 Of scores out with all men especially pipers : 
 
 And, whether they pipe us free from rats, or from mice, 
 
 If we 've promised them aught, let us keep our promise. 
 
 " Lucy is n't asleep," said Phippy. 
 
 " Well, let me see if I can't pipe these children to follow me," 
 said the mother, and she caught up the hearth broom and pretended 
 to play upon it as she danced out of the room, singing : 
 
 "Oh come, come away, 
 From stories now reposing. 
 Let papa sip each little lip : 
 Oh come, come away ! " 
 
 The children laughed merrily, kissed their papa, and danced, sing- 
 ing, out of the room and up to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 
 
 ONE day in June, Nathan looked out of the window of the chil- 
 dren's play-room and counted thirteen kites flying. Some were so 
 high that he could but just see them, and some so near that he could
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 
 
 89- 
 
 see the strings that held them and bent under the weight of the air. 
 They were plunging and soaring, veering this way and that, and 
 waving their tails behind with every motion. It was the afternoon, 
 and he looked at his own half-finished kite on the floor, and won- 
 
 The Little Photographers. 
 
 dered if he could finish it that day. He thought he would go and 
 find Phippy and Lucy and get them to help him. So he went down- 
 stairs and opened the door into his mother's room, but stopped as 
 Phippy uttered a loud 'sh ! He could not see her at first. Then
 
 90 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 he made her out under a chair which she had tipped down, while 
 she had thrown an apron over her head. Lucy sat opposite to her, 
 holding a hearth broom in her lap. 
 
 " Phip ! " said he, " what are you doing ? " 
 
 " Nathan, hush ! photographs. I 'm taking Lucy. Don't you 
 breathe. You '11 injure the negative. Now Lucy, look right at the 
 corner where I am pointing. Hold your knitting still. Nathan, 
 don't you laugh. " We 're going to have a rembranteffeck, like 
 mama's picture. Now, Lucy, keep perfectly still, and don't you 
 move your eyes, or you '11 hurt the picture. I 'rn counting twenty." 
 She stayed faithfully under the apron, then threw it off, and rushed 
 away with a slate under her arm, which she said she was going to 
 take into a closet to touch up. The children waited patiently for 
 her to come back, and presently she appeared triumphantly with the 
 slate. Yes, and a picture of Lucy on it, but as Mrs. Bodley came 
 laughing into the room at the same time, it looked very much as if 
 she had had something to do with touching it up. 
 
 " Now, Phippy," said Mrs. Bodley, " you can put on your hat and 
 go with me to meet papa." 
 
 " Oh, I want the children to help me with my kite," said Nathan, 
 looking rather dismayed. 
 
 " I '11 help you," said Lucy, so off the two went together to the 
 great play-room. There Lucy held the paste-pot, which was quite as 
 much as she could do, for she had a doll in her other arm, and it was 
 a very critical time, for the doll was taking her afternoon nap, which 
 must not be disturbed. The kite was to be a very grand one, it 
 stood nearly six feet from the ground, and Nathan was reflecting 
 whether he should not have to ask Martin to help him fly it ; but 
 what made it particularly fine was that his mother had painted a
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 91 
 
 boy's face on it, which was looking with all eyes, and with mouth 
 half-open, as if he were just about to speak. The children called 
 him Master High Flyer, because they intended that he should go up 
 into the air just as far as a very large ball of string would let him. 
 When Lucy's doll was fast asleep, she was laid down carefully in 
 Lucy's lap, who then could help Nathan make bobs for the tail of 
 his kite. The sun went down just as they finished making the last, 
 and Master High Flyer was stood on tiptoe in the corner, with the 
 paper tail hung carelessly over his shoulder, there to pass the night, 
 his last night in the house, for to-morrow he was to start on his 
 journey. 
 
 Just as they were leaving the room, Nathan and Lucy turned to 
 look on the kite, and Lucy said, 
 
 " I do think, Nathan, that it is too bad to leave Master High 
 Flyer all alone here ; see how his eyes look as if he did not want us 
 to go." 
 
 " Why, it 's only a kite, Lucy," said Nathan. " A kite does n't 
 think anything." 
 
 " Well, 1 mean to leave Salah. Salah will keep him company, 
 and she never has spent a night here before, for she has always 
 slept with me. Good-night, Salah ! " and Lucy kissed her and sat 
 her upright in a little willow rocking-chair directly opposite Master 
 High Flyer, and then she went away with Nathan and shut the 
 door of the play-room. 
 
 It was now perfectly still there and gradually growing darker, 
 though it was light enough yet to see pretty well. Master High 
 Flyer and Salah sat looking at one another ; he leaning against the 
 Wall, and she sitting bolt upright in her rocking-chair. He stared 
 so hard and held his mouth open so, that she expected every mo-
 
 92 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 ment he was going to speak, until at length, getting tired of being 
 so still, and a little frightened, too, as it grew dark, Salah herself 
 spoke out, but pretended she was speaking to herself only, 
 
 " It is rather too bad that I should have had a nap this afternoon, 
 for then I might have been able to go to sleep up here ; but now it 
 looks as if I were to keep awake all night, and I am afraid there is 
 to be no candle lighted." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm so sorry," said Master High Flyer suddenly, and then 
 he stopped short. 
 
 " Did you speak, sir," asked Salah, after a moment, glad if they 
 were to have a little conversation. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! oh, yes ! " said he, rapidly. 
 
 " Well," said she, after waiting some time for him to go on. 
 
 " Oh, you are so beautiful ! " said he all of a sudden. Salah did 
 not know just what to say in reply ; now she was getting confused, 
 and at this Master High Flyer, who had nearly lost his wits out of 
 love for her, grew more bold and tried to lean forward, but could 
 not. 
 
 " Do not think," said he, " that I don't care because I lean back 
 here against the wall. It is not my fault, and I do care a great 
 deal. If you do not mind, suppose you move your rocking-chair a 
 little nearer, for it is growing dark and I am afraid I shall not be 
 able to see you much longer." 
 
 "I I think I would better stay where I was placed," said Salah, 
 who did not like to confess that she could not move her 4 chair, 
 though it was on rockers. 
 
 " Then we must make the best of it," said Master High Flyer, 
 and there was a pause. " Oh, what shall I say next?" he said to 
 himself; " I wish she would speak ; " but she did not, and he said 
 aloud,
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 93 
 
 " Are you pretty comfortable ? " 
 
 "Yes, pretty," said Salah. 
 
 " Oh, you are more than pretty," said he, with a sudden thought, 
 and then he stopped short, for he was frightened again. 
 
 " You said that before," said Salah, " or something like it." 
 
 " And I will say it again," began he. 
 
 " Oh, but you must n't," said she ; " you are getting rude." 
 
 "But I mean, if you want me to," said he. 
 
 " Well, not just yet," said she. " Tell me first how long you 
 have been here. We might tell stories to each other, till we fall 
 asleep." 
 
 " I shall not go to sleep, I assure you," said Master High Flyer, 
 firmly. 
 
 " But I shall," said Salah, " and I begin to feel sleepy already." 
 
 " Oh, no," -said he, in alarm ; " here, I will tell you all about my- 
 self," and he began. " I will go back just as far as I can recollect. 
 I think it was partly in the wood-shed and partly in the dining- 
 room " 
 
 " I am almost asleep," said Salah. 
 
 " Oh, wake up, Salah ! I do not remember anything at all till you 
 came into the room this afternoon. You were asleep." 
 
 "I am not asleep," said Salah, indignantly. " I have heard every 
 word." 
 
 " I don't mean now, Salah I don't mean now ; I mean this 
 afternoon. As I was sitting here and thinking that I did not know 
 what was going to happen, and I had been lying flat on my back 
 looking up at the rafters and feeling as if nothing was going right, 
 just then I thought I heard footsteps, and pretty soon they came 
 nearer, and the door opened, and then it shut, and Nathan came and
 
 94 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 helped me to stand up, and I felt pretty sure that something was 
 going to happen, though I could not tell what ; and then the door 
 opened again and more footsteps came in, and then the door shut, 
 and then Lucy came and spoke to Nathan and said she would take 
 the paste-pot, and then, oh, then, Salah, I saw you ! " Master 
 High Flyer waited a moment, but Salah said nothing. 
 
 " You were asleep then were n't you, Salah ? for I saw you 
 and you did not see me." No answer came, and he grew uneasy. 
 
 " Salah ! " said he, gently, " are you awake ? Dear Salah ! oh 
 my ! did she hear that ? " But all was silent. 
 
 " Oh, I ought not to have made it so long before I came to her," 
 said he, disconsolately. " I ought to have begun with that ; I ought 
 to have said, ' Salah, the first thing I remember in my life is that I 
 saw you, and I do not wish to remember any farther back ; ' and 
 then she would have said, ' Oh, you must n't,' just as she did before, 
 and I would have said. 'Well, I won't remember anything farther 
 back, but I remember perfectly everything since that ; ' and she 
 would have said, ' Why, what happened ? ' and then I would have 
 told everything in little short sentences, and have put her name 
 into each, and then she would have kept awake. This is the way 
 we would have talked," and Master High Flyer, finding Salah would 
 not wake up, began and kept up a long conversation, saying just 
 what he chose and making Salah grow to say very bold things in- 
 deed to him, and mighty pleasant ones to listen to. It was past 
 midnight, and he was saying, " Then I would say, ' My own dearest 
 Salah, you sat down in the rocking-chair ' (for he had got no farther 
 than this), and she would say, ' Dear High, I remember, and you 
 were leaning against the wall ; go on, dear High." 
 
 " Dear High, indeed ! " broke in Salah, really, at this point, for
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 95 
 
 she had just waked up ; " who said 'Dear High ' to you, Master 
 High Flyer ? " 
 
 He was in a great fright and did not dare say a word, lest he 
 should say something that would make matters worse, and he sud- 
 denly resolved to pretend to be asleep. 
 
 " I certainly heard talking," said Salah to herself. " I woke up 
 hearing those words ; it cannot be that I have been talking in my 
 sleep. It would be extremely vexatious. I must keep awake, but 
 I will pretend to be asleep." 
 
 And so there was silence for a long time ; both were awake, but 
 Salah was not going to speak first, and Master High Flyer did not 
 dare to speak unless she were asleep. At length he said in a lit- 
 tle whisper, as if he could pretend he had not spoken if she an- 
 swered, 
 
 " Salah ! " 
 
 But Salah kept prudently quiet. Then he spoke louder and 
 louder, and finally becoming bold again, he resumed his story where 
 he left off, though he was a little more careful what he made Salah 
 say ; anything that was very nice he only whispered to himself, and 
 it made Salah grow very curious. It was indeed beginning to be 
 light, and Master High Flyer felt that his time was short. He had 
 now got as far as where Salah overheard him first. 
 
 " Just then I said, ' Salah would say, " Dear High, I remember, 
 and you were leaning against the wall ; go on, dear High," ' and 
 (here a long pause, in which Master High Flyer was saying to him- 
 self, ' My own most lovely Salah ') woke up and spoke these two 
 words, ' Dear High.' Oh, I wish she had said them in earnest, but 
 she was only repeating what I said, and I was so frightened that I 
 did not say anything more out loud for a long time. If I had only
 
 96 DOINGS" OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 dared to, I would have said what I only said to myself; but I was 
 afraid she would hear me, and yet I wanted her to hear me. I was 
 saying in answer to her question, ( I said, u Dear High " to myself, 
 Salah ; but I was pretending that you said it, because I wanted to 
 hear you say it.' If I had only had the courage to speak this out, 
 but I had not ; and now it is growing light, and when Salah wakes 
 up I shall not know what to say, especially if she asks me what I 
 said in the night." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Salah, who had, as we know, been listening all this 
 time. 
 
 " Oh my ! " said Master High Flyer. 
 
 " My what ? " asked Salah, mischievously. " Is it my me ? " 
 
 " It 's my Salah," exclaimed Master High Flyer in great excite- 
 ment, suddenly coming to the point. " Salah, if you only 
 knew " 
 
 " I know it all, sir," said Salah ; and just then the door opened 
 and Master High Flyer could see a little figure in white with bare 
 feet come running across the floor. There was a moment only, for 
 it was Lucy running to Salah, and Master High Flyer cried out, 
 " Dear Salah, say you love me." 
 
 u J 
 
 But Lucy had now taken up Salah. 
 
 " You poor little thing, I am afraid you had a lonely night up 
 here," said Lucy, kissing her, while Master High Flyer looked on in 
 anguish. " I came up just as soon as I waked, and you shall come 
 right down-stairs and stay with me, while I am dressing. . Oh, let 
 
 us come to the window-seat first, and see the sun rise." She climbed 
 
 * * 
 
 up into her favorite seat and held Salah up to the window with her 
 back to Master High Flyer. There out of the high window the little
 
 ml 
 
 I
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 99 
 
 9 
 
 girl and her little doll could see a great bark putting out to sea, the 
 tug just leaving her to go on her journey alone, across the great 
 ocean. Lucy looked and wondered about the white winged vessel, 
 and Salah looked and it seemed to her as if she was sailing away, 
 away. Then Lucy clambered down and went toward the door. 
 " Good-morning, Master High Flyer ! " said she " I think you might 
 say you did not want Salah to go," and away went Lucy with Salah. 
 Alas ! she carried her in front, and though Master High Flyer looked 
 very hard, he could not catch another glimpse of his lovely Salah. 
 The door was shut, and he was left alone in his misery. 
 
 As soon as breakfast was over, Nathan and Lucy came up to get 
 the kite to fly it. Nathan looked it all over 'and pronounced it 
 perfectly dry and strong. He fastened the ball of stout twine to 
 it, and they marched off into the field where they were to raise 
 it- The day was a beautiful one, and there was just enough steady 
 wind to give the kite a good chance, without carrying it up too vio- 
 lently. 
 
 " Wait a moment, Nathan," said Lucy. " I want Salah to see 
 it." 
 
 " A doll can't see a kite go up," said Nathan ; but she had al- 
 ready run off and soon came back with Salah, who now wore a straw 
 hat which was very becoming. Master High Flyer was in agony, 
 for as soon as Lucy appeared with Salah, and before they could 
 even exchange looks, Martin and Nathan began to send him aloft. 
 At first he plunged about, determining to get at Salah ; but the 
 wind took him, Nathan was running with the line, and soon he was 
 rising steadily in the air. If he could only have had Salah he would 
 now have been perfectly happy, for it made him feel so free and so 
 excited to rise above the trees, above the house, higher and higher,
 
 100 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 till he quite lost sight of Salah, and could hardly see even Martin, 
 who was pretty tall. He could see far off over the sea where the 
 ships were sailing, and he could see nearer by other kites that were 
 flying about him, but he was higher than all of them, and little 
 boys in the country about were watching him till their necks felt 
 lame. 
 
 Nathan was vastly proud of his kite, and now that he had let out 
 all his string, he fastened the end to a stake in the ground, and so 
 securely tethered Master High Flyer. 
 
 " Lucy," said he, " we must send a messenger up." 
 
 " Why, how, Nathan, and who can you send ? " 
 
 " Oh, I '11 show you ; you go and get me a piece of paper and 
 pair of scissors; " and Lucy, leaving Salah on the grass, where she 
 lay reproaching herself for not answering Master High Flyer, ran 
 into the house and brought out an old envelope and a pair of scis- 
 sors. Nathan cut the back of the envelope round, and another 
 round hole in the middle of the piece, and told Lucy that it was now 
 ready to slip on to the line, for he was not going to cut it but put it 
 on the end of the line, and so let it slip up. 
 
 " But there is nothing on it, Nathan," said Lucy. " When it gets 
 to Master High Flyer it will not tell him anything ; it must carry a 
 message." , 
 
 " But a kite can't read, Lucy," said the little boy ; " a kite can't 
 read." 
 
 " I have thought of something," said she. " Please let me take 
 the messenger a moment, Nathan." 
 
 He gave it to her unwillingly, and Lucy scampered off into the 
 house, where her mother was busy getting ready to make some but- 
 ter.
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 101 
 
 "Mama!" said she, " we are -going to send a messenger to 
 Master High Flyer, and I want you to write the message for him to 
 carry. Here he is," and she produced the little circlet of paper. 
 Mrs. Bodley laughed, and said, 
 
 " Well, Lucy, what shall I write ? " 
 
 " Write, ' I love you very much. Salah.' ' So her mother 
 took the pencil and wrote round the paper ; but being busy, she 
 made a mistake and wrote, "I love you very much. Lucy." 
 Lucy took the messenger, and ran out to where Nathan was waiting. 
 
 " Well," said he, " what has mother written ? " 
 
 " Oh, she has written a message for Salah, and she says, ' I love 
 you very much,' and that is meant for Master High Flyer." 
 
 "I think it's very silly," said wise Nathan; but Salah did not 
 think so, for she heard Lucy and she was at once in high delight ; 
 but then she began to think, " He has gone up so high that he 
 has forgotten all about me. I wish I had spoken out earlier this, 
 morning ; I should have said what Lucy has written, I rather think 
 after a while at least." 
 
 Nathan slipped the messenger on, and soon it was winding its way 
 up the string, and at last was indeed nearly out of sight. They 
 had got rather tired of staying by the kite now, so they fastened 
 the string to the stake and went off without Salah into the barn,, 
 and then when dinner time came, into the house. They came into 
 the dining-room just as the cuckoo came out of his door in the 
 clock to say that it was half-past one. " Cuckoo ! " he said, and 
 tipped forward and backward and then shut the door and was safe 
 at home again. 
 
 Now let us hear what happened in the air while Nathan and 
 Lucy were away. Salah only remained sitting on the ground at one
 
 102 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BO DIE Y FAMILY. 
 
 end of the string, up which was slowly traveling, spinning -round, 
 
 her messenger, and at the 
 other end Master- High 
 Flyer, who was so high up 
 that he could neither see 
 Salah nor the messenger. In- 
 deed he was getting to be 
 very lonely. At first it had 
 seemed a fine thing to be so 
 exalted, but What is all 
 this," he said, " without Sa- 
 lah ? " He struggled to get 
 back to earth again, and 
 switched his long paper tail 
 about. People on the earth 
 thought it very fine, and said, 
 " How gracefully the kite is 
 moving about ; it must be 
 very grand to b*e so high," 
 and even Salah sighed and 
 thought, " He is so proud 
 up there that he does not 
 think of me." How little they knew about it all ! 
 
 Meanwhile the messenger was making his way upward, and now 
 Master High Flyer caught sight of him, spinning slowly up the line. 
 " Have you any word for me ? " he asked eagerly, and looked with 
 all his eyes. But the messenger was too intent on getting to the 
 end of his journey, and, besides, was so dizzy that he could not 
 speak. He came nearer, he was within reading sight of Master 
 
 The Cuckoo Clock.
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. * 103 
 
 High Flyer's great eyes, but alas ! the writing was all under- 
 neath. 
 
 " What ! have you nothing at all ? " exclaimed Master High 
 Flyer in despair, when just then the leaf turned up and he caught 
 sight of " I " He leaned, struggled toward the messenger 
 snap ! went the string, down tumbled the long line with the mes- 
 senger on the tip end, away flew Master High Flyer, plunging about 
 in the most furious manner ! 
 
 He was determined now to get back to Salah, but alas ! the wind 
 carried him about vexatiously. " If it were not for my long paper 
 tail," he cried angrily, " I could go where I like." He was, how- 
 ever, gradually descending, though it gave him a headache to turn 
 so many somersaults, sometimes driving headlong down in a fright- 
 ful manner, and then whisking up as if he were going back to the 
 sky. 
 
 At length, when he was feeling quite exhausted, and was panting 
 for the free air which he had been breathing above, Master High 
 Flyer suddenly found himself stopped. He was in an apple-tree, 
 leaning against a stout branch and standing upon one still stouter, 
 while his paper tail, much bruised, was hanging weariedly over a 
 little twig behind. He had reached the end of his fall, but his con- 
 dition was more hopeless than before. The green leaves were about 
 him, and he seemed quite hidden from sight. And what was writ- 
 ten on the paper ? That was gone and he could not know. Was 
 it not a sad ending ? 
 
 What was the amazement of Nathan and Lucy when they came 
 into the field after dinner and found Salah indeed at her post, but 
 the kite gone, and the string fallen on the ground.
 
 104 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Lucy, Lucy," said Nathan, " the kite has broken the string ! " 
 
 " Perhaps Salah knows about it," said she. 
 
 " But a doll can't tell ! " said Nathan. Salah did know something 
 about it ; she had seen Master High Flyer break loose, and then she 
 had cried so hard that she did not see the rest, and now she tried to 
 tell, but she could not. The children took her with them, however, 
 as they untied the string from the stake, and began to wind it, 
 keeping watch all the while for Master High Flyer. When they 
 had reached the ena of the line, they looked all about them. 
 
 " Where is the messenger ? " asked Lucy. " I hope it reached 
 Master High Flyer." 
 
 "It is not here, at any rate," said Nathan. Was it not? Only 
 one could have told where it was, and yet it was not far off. The 
 mole knew ; he had dragged it into his hole, and there, where it 
 was nice and dark, he was reading it by the light of his wife's eyes. 
 
 " Where did you get this ? " said she, sharply. " My name is not 
 Lucy." 
 
 " No matter," said he ; for he thought it was meant for him. So 
 they began to quarrel, and the end was that the mole lived at one 
 end of his long hole and his wife at the other for nearly a week. 
 
 The children wandered about with Salah in the orchard, and 
 finally laying Salah on the grass, went off and began to pick up 
 what they called lemons, but the juice seemed to have turned to 
 ashes. They heard the horn sound in the distance. It was a .long 
 tin horn which Martin used to sound whenever he was going off in 
 the cart, so that the children might hear and have a jouncing ride 
 with him. Away they ran, throwing away their lemons, and only 
 afraid lest they should be too late to catch Martin. 
 
 Now Salah was left alone, but she was lying on her back and look-
 
 MASTER HIGH FLYER. 105 
 
 ing up into a tree. The more she looked the more sure she was that 
 she saw Master High Flyer in the branches. It did not seem possible, 
 for she supposed he had flown away into the sky. She did not 
 know what to do. Should she speak first? She wondered if the 
 messenger had reached Master High Flyer. She finally thought 
 she would cough. 
 
 " What ! " came a voice from the branches. " Oh, cough again ' " 
 but Salah kept quiet. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " said Master High Flyer sadly, for it was indeed 
 he, " I thought I heard my dear Salah, but I must give all up, I see, 
 and rot here among the branches." 
 
 " Can he have got the message or no ? " thought Salah, but she 
 was so perplexed about it that she did not notice that she had said 
 it aloud. 
 
 " The message ! " cried Master High Flyer. " Then you did send 
 it ! and you said what I wanted you to, and now you are there ! 
 Salah ! " 
 
 " Well," said Salah, as composed as she could, " yes, I am here." 
 
 " But come up ! come up ! " said he, impatiently. " I cannot see 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, you come down," said she ; but just then a breath of wind 
 made Master High Flyer lean forward a little, and they saw each 
 other fully, and he was so woe-begone with his hard flight that Salah 
 could keep back no longer, and she cried, 
 
 " Dear High, I wish I could get to you." 
 
 How glad she was then when Kitty came scampering up through 
 the grass. It was Lucy's kitty, who had often played with Salah, 
 and now began capering about. 
 
 " Do, dear Kitty," take me up into the tree."
 
 106 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Into the tree ? Well, I will, but you will be better off down 
 here, I assure you What is there in the tree ? " But Kitty took 
 her up by the waist and went nimbly up the tree. " Here we are," 
 said she ; " why, I do believe here is Master High Flyer oho ! 
 you knew that, Miss Salah," said Kitty, mischievously, and bounded 
 down again. 
 
 And there was Salah at last with Master High Flyer, and the 
 leaves grew about them so thick that they were not seen all the 
 summer long, but lived together in the boughs and looked at each 
 other and told stories, beginning with when they were born. The 
 autumn came, and when the leaves dropped off, there was Master 
 High Flyer still, but he had withered down to two sticks and a bit 
 of twine ; and Salah was there too, and she was old and ragged 
 and pinched in her face ; but they still sat with one another and 
 never knew that they were grown old, for they were eternally talk- 
 ing about the days when they were young. 
 
 CHATPER VII. 
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 
 
 THE children had been going to school every day all this time, 
 but as June came to an end, they began to talk busily of what they 
 should do in vacation. Only a few days more, and vacation would 
 come to last for eight weeks. Vacation usually lasted six weeks, 
 but this year the school-house was to be enlarged, and that would 
 take time, so two weeks were added to vacation. What a grand 
 hurrah and scamper there was when the last day of school came.
 
 ~+-l 
 
 SCHOOL'S OUT.
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 109 
 
 There was a hill near the school-house, covered with green grass, 
 and down this the children all rushed, some of them tumbling down, 
 and one venturesome little girl rolled over and over. They all 
 came to a sudden stop at the low stone-wall at the bottom of the hill. 
 
 Nathan, Phippy, and Lucy, ran home quite out of breath. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Nathan, " no more school for me. I 'm going 
 to work on the farm now," and he stalked grandly about. 
 
 " Martin ! " said he, " I can help you a good deal now the next 
 eight weeks. I shan't go to school again. I suppose we shall have 
 to get in another crop of hay before long," and he stood with his 
 hands behind him and looked out on the lawn, while Martin was 
 rubbing down Mr. Bottom who had just come in from drawing the 
 carryall. 
 
 "I wouldn't say that too loud so 's Mr. Bottom can hear," said 
 Martin. " He doesn't like drawing the hay cart." 
 
 "Do you suppose he can hear? " asked Nathan. 
 
 " Well, Hen used to say, that our horse could laugh. He used to 
 put his head out of the window and grin at us." 
 
 " I guess I '11 feed my pig," said Nathan, who could always do 
 that when there was nothing else to do. He went to the house and 
 found his mother in the wood-shed, with a long apron on, moving 
 about with pans and dishes. 
 
 " Is it ice-cream ? " asked Nathan, eagerly. May I turn the 
 freezer ? " 
 
 " Yes, it 's ice-cream," said she, " and you can see if you can make 
 it come in five minutes." Mrs. Bodley brought out some salt and 
 ice, and packed the wooden case round the tin can that held the 
 custard, and Nathan took hold of the handle and began to turn 
 briskly. Pretty soon Phippy and Lucy came.
 
 110 DOINGS OF THE BOD LEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Is it coming, Thanny ? " asked Phippy, with great interest. 
 " Does it go hard ? " 
 
 " Pretty soon," said Nathan, turning away, industriously. 
 
 " Let 's open the cover and look in," said Phippy. " No, I 
 would n't though, the salt will get in. Here, let me take hold," and 
 she stood and tried to turn with Nathan. 
 
 " Are you going to make it round ? " asked Lucy. " I thought 
 it came out in little monuments." 
 
 " We make it round first," said Phippy, who never was at a loss 
 for an answer. " Seems to me it 's growing harder, Nathan. See 
 how black my hands are." 
 
 " That 's the lead," said he, " off the handle. It 's poisonous." 
 
 " Then I '11 go right away and wash it off," said she, in alarm. 
 
 " I wonder where mother is," said Nathan, presently. " I think 
 there 's something wrong about this ice-cream. I suppose I must 
 have been turning here as much as quarter of an hour. Lucy, I 
 wish you 'd see if you can find mother." 
 
 " I 'm right here, Thanny," said his mother from the kitchen. 
 " Turn away, patiently. You 've only turned four minutes." Na- 
 than kept on for some time longer, while Lucy went off to find 
 Phippy. 
 
 " Mother ! " he called, faintly, but she did not answer. " I wonder 
 if I can stop now. It 's getting harder. I suppose it would all go 
 back again though if I did stop. Mother ! I wonder if they make 
 ice-cream in the shops so," he went on to himself. " It must be an 
 awful kind of a store to keep." 
 
 " Well, Nathan," said his mother coming in and finding him sit- 
 ting before the freezer, " has it come yet ? " 
 
 " Oh, mother, it 's never going to come," said he, disconsolately, 
 " and I think the pig ought to be fed."
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. Ill 
 
 " Well, I am through with my work," said she, " and I '11 turn it 
 till it comes. You can find the children and feed the pig, if you 
 want to." Presently she heard them marching along, and coming 
 through the shed. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " she asked, as Nathan, heading the pro- 
 cession, led them through the shed, holding an umbrella under his 
 arm. 
 
 " I 'm the great Professor Wise," said Nathan, making a low bow, 
 " and I 'm going up in a balloon, and coming down in a parachute. 
 These are my neighbors, ma'am, who wish to see me go up, turn ti 
 turn, turn, turn ti, turn turn," and off they marched. 
 
 " I don't see your balloon, Nathan," said Lucy, who was walking 
 gravely behind. 
 
 " Oh, we '11 make believe about the balloon," said he ; " it 's going 
 to get caught on top of the stone-wall, and I 'm coming down in a 
 parachute. Here, Phippy, you take the umbrella, the parachute I 
 mean, while I climb up here." So he climbed up to the top of the 
 wall. " Now hand me the parachute, little girl," said he, and he 
 opened it carefully. " Now you '11 see the great Professor Wise who 
 has reached the extraordinary altitude of three thousand feet, come 
 down without harm," and so saying he held the umbrella over his 
 head and jumped off the wall. 
 
 " How does it feel, Nathan," asked Phippy, who was eager to try 
 it herself. 
 
 " It feels like flying," said Nathan, waving his arm. " I will now 
 proceed to jump off the barn." 
 
 " Oh, you must n't, Nathan," said Lucy. " You can't." 
 
 " I will first alight from the pig-house," said Professor Wise, 
 marching in that direction with his umbrella, the children following
 
 112 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 him. It was not very difficult to climb upon the fence and then 
 upon the roof, where cleats had been nailed, and Nathan now stood 
 proudly, waving his umbrella, on the ridge. 
 
 " Oh, you must n't," screamed Lucy. 
 
 " I want to try," said Phippy. But Nathan waved her off. 
 
 " Children," said he, " the day is not favorable for an ascension, 
 and Professor, Wise gives notice that to-morrow at the same hour, he 
 will go up in his balloon, admission twenty-five cents, children half 
 price. Here, Phip, take the umbrella," and he lowered it and let it 
 drop point downward to the ground. The fact was, matters looked 
 differently to Professor Wise, when he was actually on top of the pig- 
 house, though he had long planned to jump off the top with the par- 
 achute. Now it happened, as he began to come down the roof, back- 
 ward, one of the cleats gave way under his foot, he was on his 
 hands and feet, with his back arched like a tomcat's, and he began 
 to slip, slip over the hot shingles and could find nothing to catch by. 
 Lucy ran crying to her mother, and Phippy called out, 
 
 " Catch hold of a cleat, Nathan," but Nathan was frightened, and 
 the end was that over the edge he went, and came down with a 
 pretty bad tumble upon the ground. 
 
 " Oh, I 've broken my leg," said he, piteously, and began to wail. 
 
 " Where, where ! " said his sister, and at this moment Mrs. Bod- 
 ley came running out, followed by Lucy in tears. Nathan sobbed 
 louder than ever when he saw his mother. She began to raise him, 
 but he screamed with pain. 
 
 " Call Martin, Philippa," said she ; and Martin presently came. 
 
 " I think Nathan has sprained his ankle, Martin," said she. " I 
 am not strong enough to lift him. Please take him up carefully by 
 his shoulders and thigh, and bring him into the house." Martin
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 113 
 
 took the little fellow up tenderly, and the little procession, which had 
 followed Professor Wise so gayly, now returned, mourning, with him. 
 He was carried up-stairs, and put to bed. His ankle was badly 
 swollen, but his mother knew how to treat it, and she bathed it and 
 put on a liniment, and soon he dropped asleep. 
 
 When he awoke, it was to see little Lucy standing before him with 
 a plate of ice-cream in her hand. 
 
 " Did it come ? " he asked, dreamily. " My head aches. I think 
 I should like some ice-cream." Lucy handed it to him, timidly, and 
 he ate it with great relish, and then lay back and half closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 " I suppose I shall have to have a crutch, Lucy," said he. Phippy 
 and her mother were in the doorway, watching. 
 
 " Nathan, you shall have my stilts," said Phippy. 
 
 " Hush," said Mrs. Bodley. " Don't talk to Nathan now. He is 
 tired and wants to sleep," so she sent the children away to play, 
 while she sat down beside him, and gently smoothed his forehead. 
 Phippy and Lucy went off sorrowfully. 
 
 " I suppose we shall have to draw Nathan about in a cart," said 
 Phippy. 
 
 " Perhaps we can teach Nep," said Lucy. Nep was the big New- 
 foundland dog. 
 
 "Lucy, you're a jewel. We will teach Nep," said Phippy. 
 " Let 's go and ask Martin this very minute. 
 
 When Mr. Bodley came home at night, he heard the story, and 
 was very sorry for poor Nathan. 
 
 " This is the first day of my vacation, papa," said the little boy in 
 a melancholy tone. " I suppose 1 shall have to stay here over 
 Fourth of July."
 
 114 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " You will have to keep very quiet, my boy," said his father, 
 " but if you do as mama tells you, and keep your foot very still, I 
 hope that before the vacation is over, you will be running about as 
 usual. Now see how brave you can be these hot days." 
 
 " I hope Martin will feed my pig regularly," said Nathan in a re- 
 signed tone. " I think I should be quite happy if I thought my pig 
 was fed regularly." 
 
 " I '11 see that Martin feeds him. He shall have a special nice 
 dinner every day. I suppose he did not know what to make of it 
 when he heard his master on the top of his house." 
 
 " Did you ever sprain your ankle, papa ? " 
 
 " Yes, I sprained it once very badly when I was traveling with 
 your mama in Europe, and I remember one day when I was wheeled 
 about in a chair on wheels that I saw a sight that interested me very 
 much, because it made me think how very useful legs are. Which 
 would you rather do without, Nathan, arms or legs ? " 
 
 " I think I 'd rather have my legs," said Nathan, " for then \ 
 could run about," and he looked ruefully down at his bandaged 
 ankle. 
 
 " But you could n't take hold of anything, or even feed yourself, if 
 you had no arms," said his father, " and you could not write or use 
 a pencil or draw. Do you think you could draw with your toes ? " 
 
 " Why, no," said Nathan. " I don't suppose I could hold the 
 pencil." 
 
 " Well, one day when I was in Antwerp, wheeled about as I said 
 in my little wheel-chair, your mother and I came into a room, where 
 people were hard at work with brushes and colors, copying pictures 
 and painting ; and there among them was a man without arms, sit- 
 ting in a chair, before an easel, one leg thrown over the other, and
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 
 
 115 
 
 a brush held between two toes. He was painting, and there he came 
 every day and painted pict- 
 It made me think how 
 
 ures. 
 
 much one could do, if he 
 really had a mind to do it, 
 even if he had no arms. I 
 have heard of another man 
 too, who had neither the use 
 of his arms nor his legs and 
 used to paint, holding a brush 
 between his teeth. But here 
 comes mama with your bowl 
 of blueberries and cream." 
 Nathan was soon eating his 
 supper with a great relish. 
 
 " I suppose you and father 
 will have to tell me a great 
 many stories now," said he, 
 between two mouthfuls. 
 
 " I suppose you will amuse 
 yourself a good deal with 
 books, and pencils, and toys," said his mother. 
 
 " I think I should like to hear about ' Bumble-Bug and Bumble- 
 Bee,' said Nathan, after his mother had tucked him into bed. He 
 lay there, folding his hands over his breast, as he always did when 
 he went to sleep, and looked very patient, and also as if he meant to 
 have a very pleasant time listening to stories. 
 
 " Do you really want to hear about Bumble-Bug ? " said his 
 mother. " You have heard it a great many times." 
 
 -:=- 
 
 The Armless Painter
 
 116 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Yes 'm," said he, meekly. " I should like to hear about Bumble- 
 Bug, if you would just as lieve tell it." So Mrs. Bodley sat down 
 and told him for the hundredth time 
 
 TEIE FAMOUS BATTLE OF BUMBLE-BUG AND BUMBLE-BEE. 
 
 Bumble-Bug and Bumble-Bee 
 
 Agreed to fight a battle ; 
 For Bumble-Bug said Bumble-Bee 
 
 Had lighted on his apple. 
 So Bumble-Bug to Bumble-Bee 
 
 Cried out, " Come, sir, right down, 
 Or I will take you on my horns? 
 
 And toss you out of town." 
 
 But Bumble-Bee told Bumble-Bug 
 
 Apples were his to eat ; 
 And bade the Buggy get away, 
 
 With all his ugly feet. 
 Then Bumble-Bug began to swell, 
 
 And Bumble-Bee to buzz, 
 And soon they had their little heads 
 
 All in a little fuzz :
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 117 
 
 And Bumble-Bug began to climb 
 
 The apple round and red, 
 And as he went a-bugging up, 
 
 To Bumble-Bee he said : 
 " I '11 show, you, sir, old Bumble-Bee, 
 
 Whose apple you are eating ; 
 I '11 push you off upon the ground, 
 
 And give you, sir, a beating." 
 
 Then Bumble-Bug and Bumble-Bee 
 
 Begin their famous battle, 
 And soon both tumble headlong down 
 
 From off the big round apple. 
 But Bumble-Bug soon scrabbles up, 
 
 And opens wide his eyes ; 
 
 And Bumble-Bee shakes out his wings, 
 
 And at Sir Buggy flies. 
 
 The Bumble-Bug tried hard to scratch, 
 
 The Bumble-Bee to sting ; 
 The Bee put out the Buggy's eye, 
 
 The Bug tore off Bee's wing.
 
 118 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Then Bumble-Bug and Bumble-Bee 
 
 Each took a little rest ; 
 Sir Bug laid down upon his back, * 
 
 Sir Bee upon his breast. 
 
 "Come, Bumble-Bug," said Bumble-Bee, 
 
 " Let 's talk this matter over, 
 
 As we are resting here a bit, 
 
 Under this shady clover." 
 " T was all your fault ! " cried Bumble-Bug ; 
 
 " 'T was yours ! " buzzed Bumble-Bee ; 
 "I found the apple first," said Bug, 
 
 " Under the apple-tree." 
 
 Ah, ha ! ah, ha ! " cried Bumbe-Bee. 
 " Just like a great black Bug !
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 
 
 I '11 warrant you from out the ground 
 Your dinners oft have dug ; 
 
 But I / found the apple, 
 Up in the apple-tree ; 
 
 I get my dinners clean and sweet, 
 I am a Bumble-Bee." 
 
 Then Bumble-Bug said he 'd get up, 
 
 And kill the Bee outright ; 
 And Bumble-Bee began to buzz, 
 
 All ready for the fight. 
 j\i 'twas a fearful sight to see, 
 
 As Bug with lifted horns, 
 Went dash with all his might at Bee, 
 
 With great, black, shining horns ! 
 
 119 
 
 <r 
 
 Just then a tiny Ant spoke out, 
 
 From off her little hill, 
 And said : " Alas, most noble sirs, 
 
 My heart with grief you fill. 
 To see a Bumble-Bee and Bug, 
 
 As like as any brothers, 
 Go scratch and sting, at eye and wing, 
 
 Till each has spoiled the other's !
 
 120 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 "The apple, big and red and round, 
 
 Is, sure, enough for all ; 
 'T would last a little Ant like me 
 
 The summer and the fall. 
 There Bumble-Bee could sip the juice, 
 
 While Buggy nibbed the skin, 
 And I, with hundred other Ants, 
 
 Could tid-bit out and in. 
 
 " 'T is yours, 't is mine ; behold how fair, 
 
 With wealth for each, untold 
 This rounded sphere of juicy pulp, 
 
 This rind of red and gold ! 
 How pleasant, too, as we have read, 
 
 How good a thing 'twould be, 
 Together as a family 
 
 To dwell in unity." 
 
 Then Bumble-Bug and Bumble-Bee 
 
 Were very much ashamed, 
 While thus the quiet little Ant 
 
 Their wicked conduct blamed; 
 And tears stood in that flashing eye, 
 
 Down drooped that vaunting wing, 
 As each pledged each to never more 
 
 Do such a naughty thing.
 
 PROFESSOR WISE. 121 
 
 But not the tear in Buggy's eye, 
 
 Nor Bumble's drooping wing, 
 Can take from out their little hearts 
 
 Remembered scratch and sting. 
 And ever, when they meet again, 
 
 On pretty fruit or flower, 
 They think, with still repenting hearts, 
 
 Upon that battle hour. 
 
 When Mrs. Bodley had finished, Nathan was fast asleep. She 
 kissed him gently, and went out softly from the room. Phippy and 
 Lucy were in their father's lap upon the front door-steps. 
 
 " mother," said Phippy, eagerly, " papa is going to get a har- 
 ness for Nep, and is going to harness him in the little cart, and 
 when Nathan gets better, Nep will drag him over hill and dale." 
 
 " Most likely," said she, laughing. " He will drag him anywhere 
 but over the road." 
 
 " We '11 teach him," said Mr. Bodley. " Nep is a bright dog. 
 Here, Nep, get my paper. Go, old dog." Nep heard this order, and 
 jumped up from the grass where he was lying, and trotted down the 
 shady avenue. At the end of the avenue was a wooden box with a 
 lid to it, and the boy who brought the evening newspaper had been 
 told to put it in this box, so that he need not come away up to the 
 house. Nep trotted up to the box, put his fore paws on the wall
 
 122 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 near by, raised the lid with his nose, put his head inside, seized the 
 paper with his teeth, and came running back to the house with it, 
 and laid it at Mr. Bodley's feet. 
 
 " Good dog," said he, patting him on his head. " Good dog," 
 and Nep wagged his tail, and looked very much pleased. Then the 
 little girls went to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THIRD OP JULY. 
 
 NATHAN'S ankle grew well and strong but slowly, and it was pretty 
 hard for him to keep quiet in the long, bright vacation days. He 
 played with Mouse Castle a good deal, and the two little mice came 
 to know him very well, and would eat crumbs out of his hand, run- 
 ning down the little ladder and upon his hand, which he held at the 
 foot of the ladder. Mouse Castle was not kept in his bedroom, but 
 he used to feed the little fellows every morning as soon as he was 
 dressed, and before he had his own breakfast. What was his aston- 
 ishment one morning, when he came to lift off the roof and look into 
 the bed-room, to see snugly stowed away in the cotton bed a little 
 plain brown mouse, that had found out this castle in the night-time, 
 and after trying to get at the little white people that lived in it, had 
 gnawed a hole under the eaves and so crept in. The children were 
 all called to see him, and the hole where he entered stopped up, 
 but the little fellow was very wild and went dashing about the 
 castle, scampering about for a place to escape, while his white 
 brethren frisked about quietly, hardly knowing what to make of 
 such a pother.
 
 THIRD OF JULY. 123 
 
 Lucy made up a story about the stranger knight that was wander- 
 ing in the woods, and came at night to the castle where he was ad- 
 mitted and found two princesses, and was so much in love with them 
 both that he tho'ught he was bewitched, and wanted to escape ; and 
 escape he did one day, Nathan having vainly tried to tame him. 
 He gnawed another hole and so crept out, and never came back 
 again. Nathan amused himself with his books and playthings, but 
 a week had not passed before it seemed to him that he had been laid 
 up all summer. His father used to carry him in his arms out of 
 doors and take him to drive, but he was not yet able to walk about, 
 and though Nep was learning to drag the wagon tolerably well, it 
 was hardly safe to trust him with a little boy whose ankle was 
 sprained. Fourth of July was coming, and it seemed to Nathan as 
 if he could not bear it. 
 
 " You will have to play that you are a soldier, wounded in the 
 battle of Bunker Hill," said his father, " and that you are bravely 
 staying at home quietly, so as to be able to join your regiment all 
 the sooner." 
 
 "Well, I will ! " said Nathan, brightening up, and on the after- 
 noon before the Fourth, Mr. Bodley took all the children to drive, 
 to show them some of the scenes which had been famous in the War 
 of Revolution. It was a cool, pleasant afternoon, and Mr. Bottom 
 jogged contentedly along. 
 
 " Do you suppose Mr. Bottom was ever in the war?" asked 
 Phippy. 
 
 " No, Mr. Bottom lived peacefully in the Green Mountains before 
 he came to us." 
 
 " Hen was in the army, Martin says," said Nathan.. 
 
 " Seems to me Hen has been everywhere and done everything," 
 said Phippy.
 
 124 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " It 's the Mexican war he was in," said Nathan. " He could n't 
 have been in the Revolutionary War." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Bodley, " Hen is too young for that. Your uncle 
 was in the War of 1812, and your grandfather in "the Revolution- 
 ary War." 
 
 " I know," said Nathan, eagerly, " he was in the battle of Bunker 
 Hill where I was wounded." 
 
 " Oh see," said Lucy, " look at those boys sailing a boat in a 
 trough just like ours. They 've got a sword, and a gun, and a 
 drum." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Bodley, " and they are dressed, one in a navy 
 suit and one in an army suit." Mr. Bodley stopped the carriage a 
 moment in the road, near the boys. Their mother was watching 
 them from the window of their house near by. 
 
 " Good afternoon, boys," said Mr. Bodley. " That 's a nice little 
 sloop of war you have there." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said one of the boys, " she 's not got her troops on 
 board yet, but when she 's all loaded and the troops are on board, 
 we 're going to send her to cruise up and down the coast to look out 
 for pirates." 
 
 "Three cheers for our Army and Navy," said Mr. Bodley, and 
 Nathan, and Phippy, and Lucy, and Mrs. Bodley, too, all joined in 
 three merry cheers which the boys returned swinging their caps, as 
 the carriage drove away. Their way led through Cambridge, and 
 they drove by the old elm-tree, and stopped in front of it. 
 
 " Here," said Mr. Bodley, " was where General Washington took 
 command of the American army on this very July 3d, let me see, 
 fifty, twenty-five, yes, seventy-five years ago to-day. You know, 
 Nathan, he was from Virginia, and as most of the soldiers were here
 
 OUR ARMY AND NAVY.
 
 THIRD OF JULY. 127 
 
 trying to prevent the British from coming out of Boston, they 
 wanted a good general to take command, and the leaders of the 
 people chose General Washington, and under this tree he stood, and 
 the soldiers saw him, and after that they were the American army 
 under General Washington. Do you see that old building ? " and 
 he pointed out one of the red brick college buildings. " That is 
 Massachusetts Hall. There were not nearly as many college build- 
 ings here then ; the soldiers were all camped out on the common 
 right by us here, and in other places around here, and it was rather 
 hard to keep the students at work, so they were sent up to Concord 
 to study, and the soldiers took possession of the students' rooms. 
 That window where you see those red curtains looks out of the room 
 that your grandfather occupied when he was a soldier here. Now 
 we are going down the road," said he, as they turned down Kirk- 
 land Street, " which the soldiers took when they set out to build a 
 fort on Bunker Hill in Charlestown, the 16th of June, 1775." 
 
 " The 17th of June, papa," said Nathan. " The battle of Bunker 
 Hill was on the 17th of June." 
 
 "Yes, the battle was on the 17th, but the soldiers marched from 
 Cambridge the night before, and it was because the British found 
 them the next morning behind the fort which they built in the night, 
 that they came over from Boston and fought them. Did you see 
 that old house we just passed ? That was where General Ward, 
 who was in command of the Massachusetts troops at that time, had 
 his head-quarters. The soldiers all drew up before the house, and 
 Mr. Langdon, who was President of Harvard College then, stood on 
 the steps of the house, and prayed with them, and then Colonel Pres- 
 cott started off at their head, and led them down this road. It was 
 nine o'clock at night when they started."
 
 128 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Why did they march in the night ? " asked Phippy, surprised. 
 " I shouldn't think they could have seen to inarch in the dark." 
 
 u Oh, yes, they knew the way, and did not want the British to see 
 them. There were about twelve hundred of them, and besides their 
 muskets, they carried pick-axes and shovels with them." 
 
 " Well, I should n't think any one could miss who tried to hit the 
 enemy with a shovel," said Nathan, " but I don't think I should 
 like to have been hit with a pick-axe." 
 
 " Oh, their shovels and pick-axes were for digging up the earth so 
 that they could make a fort, and stand behind it when they fired 
 with their guns," said his father. They drove on by the old road, 
 and so into Charlestown and to the hill where the monument stood. 
 The children had been up the monument before, and as Nathan could 
 not go up now, they did not get out of the carriage, but sat in it, 
 looking out over the water and the shipping, and over to Boston 
 opposite. 
 
 " Just see how near Boston is," said Mr. Bodley, " but you know 
 it was not nearly so big a place then. While the soldiers were dig- 
 ging their fort here on the hill, there was a guard down by the shore 
 to keep watch. There was no bridge then, but a ferry, and as this 
 guard stood there, they could hear the watch on the British men-of- 
 war singing out ' All 's well,' as every hour they took turns in 
 watching. The watch did not hear the men digging, but when 
 morning came, and they looked over toward Charlestown, there 
 on the hill, right where we stand, they saw the earth thrown up so 
 as to make a wall, and they saw the soldiers behind it, and knew 
 that if they could get cannon there and fire them off, Boston would 
 not be a safe place for the British army to stay in." 
 
 " Then did they come over and drive our men away ? " asked Na- 
 than.
 
 THIRD OF JULY. 129 
 
 " Yes, they came over in the afternoon with boat-loads of men 
 and guns, and here the battle of Bunker Hill was fought, and our 
 men were driven out of the fort and had to go back to Cambridge." 
 
 " But, seems to me it was n't much of a battle if we were beaten," 
 said Nathan. 
 
 " We were farmers and country people who knew how to fire 
 guns, but had not been trained regularly as the British soldiers had ; 
 but the chief trouble was that we had n't powder enough. But our 
 soldiers were brave, and fought hard even after they had used up 
 their powder, and showed that they were willing to go into great 
 danger to defend their country, and that was what made the battle 
 a .great one. People had not been quite sure whether there would 
 be fighting or not, and whether the Americans would stand -together 
 and really meant what they said, but the battle of Bunker Hill 
 showed that they were determined and brave men, and thought less 
 about themselves than they did about their country, and so we cele- 
 brate the battle every year, even though we were beaten off the 
 field." 
 
 " Here was where I was wounded," said Nathan, who had not 
 forgotten that he was making believe he had been in the battle. 
 
 u Let 's carry him off," said Phippy. " my brother, my brother, 
 you fought for me, and my hearth, and Lucy. You shall have some 
 cherries when I get you safe home." 
 
 " Why not go round by Faneuil Hall," said Mrs. Bodley. 
 
 " I mean to do that," said the father, as he drove over the bridge, 
 stopping to pay toll. " We '11 have a patriotic afternoon." So they 
 drove to Faneuil Hall. 
 
 " What makes you call it funny Hall ? " asked Lucy. " I don't 
 think it looks very funny." 
 
 9
 
 130 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Funn'l Hall, Lucy," said her mother. " It was named after Mr. 
 Peter Fane uil, who built it and gave it to the town." 
 
 " It is bigger now than when he gave it," said Mr. Bodiey. " I 
 have a picture at home which I will show you this evening, that will 
 give you an idea of how it looked in the Revolutionary War. Here 
 the people used to gather, for it was their town-hall, and ever since 
 
 
 
 Faneuil Hall as it was. 
 
 it has been the place where great meetings have been held, and 
 great speeches made." The family all went inside and looked at the 
 pictures, but they were most of them portraits that did not interest 
 them very much. They were rather more interested in the market 
 beneath, with the bushels of eggs and firkins of butter crowding the 
 sidewalks even. 
 
 " It must take a great many hens to lay all these eggs," said 
 Phippy.
 
 THIRD OF JULY. 
 
 131 
 
 " Yes," aid Nathan. " I suppose they have to lay them all at 
 once too ; only think of 
 it ! thousands of hens 
 laying eggs all at once," 
 and he looked very sol- 
 emn, remembering their 
 own hens and how few 
 eggs they got from them. 
 On their way out of 
 town, as they jogged 
 along, the}^ suddenly 
 heard music. 
 
 " Oh, here 's a band ! " 
 said Lucy. " Do let 's 
 stop." So they stopped 
 the carriage and looked 
 at the band of German 
 musicians who were play- 
 ing in the street. It was 
 rather a poor part of the 
 city that they were go- 
 ing through, and men, 
 women, and children were on the door-steps and at the windows, or 
 gathered about the musicians in the street. The men had pipes in 
 their mouths, but they all locked as if they enjoyed the music. One 
 little girl about Lucy's age, in a big sun-bonnet, held a rag doll in her 
 arms, and was so interested that she did not notice how she was hold- 
 ing the doll, and it surely must have had a headache, for its head was 
 hanging down so. The musicians themselves were blowing at their 
 
 Portrait of Samuel Adams the Patriot, in Faneuil Hall.
 
 132 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 instruments in the most business-like way. One big fellow found his 
 so heavy that he had to rest it on a hydrant. He had a pipe stick- 
 ing out of his coat-pocket, and looked as if he should enjoy it very 
 much when he was through with his work. The family stayed to 
 hear one tune through, and then Lucy, holding some money in her 
 hand, timidly called to one old fellow in spectacles who had been 
 playing in a lonely fashion almost by himself, and they drove on, 
 while the musicians marched off to play somewhere else. 
 
 " I wish I could see that little girl again with the organ Lisa,'* 
 said Lucy. " I wish she would come out to see us." But though 
 they saw a hand-organ, it was not Lisa's father who carried it, and 
 there was no Lisa and no monkey. It was not long before they 
 were home again, and Nathan had been lifted out and placed on a 
 cushion in the front doorway, the children's favorite place, where 
 they could see the Jersey cow feeding on the lawn and could look 
 off upon the pretty country. 
 
 " Won't you give us a story before tea, mama ? " asked Phippy. 
 " We are all here, and Nathan will have to be carried up pretty 
 soon." 
 
 " Well, what shall it be ? Harry O'Hum or Bumble-Bug ? " 
 
 " Oh, Harry O'Hum," cried Phippy. " That 's a first-rate story." 
 So Mrs. Bodley sat down on the door-step and told them the story 
 of 
 
 HARRY O'HUM BOTH SIDES OF HIS DRUM. 
 
 When Harry O'Hum 
 
 First belted a drum, 
 It was one that his father had bought him ; 
 
 And the tunes that he played, 
 
 And the racket he made, 
 Were such as the muster-days taught him.
 
 v ..; /-.' 

 
 THIRD OF JULY. 
 
 And a brave little drum 
 
 Was this " Trim-i-te*-trum," 
 Right merrily answering every call, 
 
 As it went up the street 
 
 To a march or retreat, 
 With Harry behind it, so straight and so small. 
 
 135 
 
 And boys that were taller, 
 
 And boys that were smaller, 
 With geese racing off, and dogs racing after, 
 
 Were up and a-coming, 
 
 When Harry, a-drumming, 
 Went out for a bedlam of frolic and laughter. 
 
 Then the neighbors would say, 
 ," " Just hear that child play ! 
 
 It beats all, I declare! I could listen all summer." 
 
 And all about town, 
 
 And the towns up and down, 
 Little Harry was known as the Wonderful Drummer.
 
 133 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Oh these were the days 
 
 Of the beautiful plays, 
 When Harry to greatness was likely to come ; 
 
 Since the way to be great 
 
 Is to work and to wait, 
 And to keep yourself always right side of your drum. 
 
 'T was a pity that Harry 
 
 Had not heard of poor Barry, 
 How he came to his end with a horse and a gun ; 
 
 For he longed to be bigger, 
 
 And to cut a great figure, 
 And to do, all at once, what had never been done. 
 
 So, all by himself, 
 
 And sly as an elf. 
 He found him the largest drum ever was seen ; 
 
 'T was as big as a barrel, 
 
 As a very large barrel, 
 So large that the shopman asked, " What do you mean ? "
 
 THIRD OF JULY. 137 
 
 " Of course, sir," said Harry, 
 " This drum I can't carry ; 
 
 But just, sir, to take the whole town by surprise, 
 I shall stand up inside, 
 And drum as I ride, 
 Ana so be the wonder of all who have eyes." 
 
 And scarce was it said 
 
 When, with feet, hands, and head, 
 Plumped into its depths our hero lay ; 
 
 In came a stout man, 
 
 His face brown as tan, 
 And bought the big drum and took it away i 
 
 And Harry was right; 
 
 For, long before night, 
 The town was astir with a wondrous surprise: 
 
 All the bells of the steeple, 
 
 All the shouts of the people, 
 In search of a boy who was lost from their eyes.
 
 ,138 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 But Harry the Drummer 
 
 Came no more to the summer, 
 No more to the campus of rollicking boys ; 
 
 But, instead, an old fellow 
 
 With a voice like a bellow, 
 And a drum that he banged with tremendous noise. 
 
 Then the neighbors would say, 
 " Just hear that man play ! 
 
 It beats all, I declare! I can't bear it a minute. 
 What on earth is the matter? 
 One would think, by the clatter, 
 
 That the very Old Harry and all were in it ! " 
 
 
 
 Alas, not Old Harry, 
 
 But Harry, young Harry ! 
 Nothing left but the "drumsticks," of Harry O'Hum: 
 
 Not to walk up the street, 
 
 But to beat, beat, beat, 
 Because they are now the wrong side of his drum. 
 
 " Trim-i-te-trum," cried Phippy, clapping her hands. " Mother, 
 I wish we had a drum." 
 
 " So do not I," said she. " You shall have drumsticks when we 
 have chickens for dinner, but I would rather hear your merry voices, 
 than have you go about pounding on sheep-skin."
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 139 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 
 
 EVEN at Roseland the firing of guns and ringing of bells could be 
 heard Fourth of July morning. The children were up at day-break, 
 but poor Nathan was not allowed to leave his bed, and he groaned 
 to himself as he heard the popping of crackers and cracking of tor- 
 pedoes outside, for Phippy, who had been furnished with a bunch of 
 crackers, could not wait until after breakfast, but fired them oif one 
 by one until not a single one was left, except a precious " double- 
 header " which she was saving for a special explosion ; and Lucy, 
 though she was a little frightened, could not help trying a few tor- 
 pedoes, since they did not burst or explode, unless she threw them 
 away from her. Nothing could induce her to fire off a cracker, 
 however. 
 
 " Well, Phippy," said her father at breakfast, " I suppose you 
 are going to have a grand time firing off your crackers to-day." 
 
 " She 's fired them all off," said Lucy. 
 
 " What ! ' already ? " 
 
 " Oh, I 've got my double-header left," said Philippa, bravely. 
 " I have n't fired that off yet." 
 
 " I 've saved my bunch," said Nathan, rather dolefully. " I sup- 
 pose I shall have to fire them off sitting down." 
 
 " Now, what do you say, children," said Mr. Bodley, " to our hav- 
 ing a picnic this morning in the woods ? " Nathan burst into tears. 
 " Oh, you shall go, Thanny, if the rest of us do," said his father. 
 " If your mother says we may go, we will all go to May's Woods 
 this morning, and carry our dinner with us, and will find a way of
 
 140 DOINGS OF THE BOD LEY FAMILY. 
 
 getting Nathan there." Mrs. Bodley was as willing as any one, so 
 after breakfast they all set about getting things in readiness for their 
 picnic. They filled the ice-cream freezer with milk, and packed it 
 with ice and salt, so that though they could not have ice-cream, 
 they could have good, cool milk ; then they cut thin slices of bread, 
 and buttered them Mr. Bodley did this, and he nicked one or 
 two slices which he had buttered rather more heavily than the rest, 
 so as to know them when they had their lunch, and he could give 
 them to Nathan who dearly loved to have his butter well laid on. 
 They had some potatoes, too, and some baking apples, for they meant 
 to have a little fire in the woods, though Mr. Bodley had kept this 
 a secret. There was a cold chicken in the basket. It had been 
 cooked the day before, much to the children's astonishment, who 
 thought it remarkably fortunate. The fact was, their father and 
 mother had thought of the picnic two or three days before, and had 
 plaimed the surprise. 
 
 Then they set out for the woods. Martin was obliged to stay 
 behind and keep watch of the house and premises, but Nep went 
 with them, and kept his eye on the basket, and his nose, too, some- 
 times. And how did Nathan go ? Oh, Nathan went in the little 
 cart, and it was big enough, not only to hold him, but to hold the 
 basket of goodies. Nep had dragged the cart, but as he did not 
 always keep to the road and sometimes tumbled the cart into the 
 ditch, it was thought best not to have him drag Nathan and the 
 basket. It would have been unfortunate to tip poor Nathan over ; 
 and to tip the basket over ! that would have been unfortunate, too. 
 
 May's Woods were beyond the pasture. There was a strip of 
 woodland first, called Long's Woods, and after passing through that 
 they came to a stone-wall over which they climbed, and then by n
 
 FOURTH 'OF JULY. 141 
 
 pleasant path into May's Woods and so to May's Pond, which was a 
 little sheet of water which had once been walled in, but except in 
 very dry weather usually overflowed its boundaries, and in winter 
 made a capital skating-pond. The place was not much visited, and 
 the Bodleys found a shady place not far from the pond, where they 
 proceeded to encamp. The little cart was drawn up on one side 
 under a tree, and the basket left in it. They spread shawls and 
 there Nathan sat, and the rest did not wander far away. Nathan 
 amused himself by sending Nep into the pond, but as soon as Nep 
 came out, the rest would call him off into the woods, for Nathan of 
 course could not run, and it was no great fun to have the big New- 
 foundland dog shake himself, down 'to a final wriggle of his tail, 
 within two or three feet of where the little boy sat. 
 
 " I think this will be a good time now to fire off my double- 
 header," said Phippy. 
 
 " Oh no, Phippy," said Nathan, " let 's keep it and fire it off for a 
 noon gun. I'll fire off some of my crackers now." 
 
 " Well," said she, glad to keep the double-header a little longer, 
 " I '11 help you. fire off the crackers," and they fired and fired, until 
 not a cracker was left. 
 
 " They 're all gone," said Phippy, " now for my double-header." 
 
 " Oh no, wait, Phippy. Please wait." 
 
 " Well," said she. At this moment back came the others, who 
 had been walking about and gathering flowers near by, wood violets, 
 and anemones, and late columbines. 
 
 " Are all your crackers gone, Nathan ? " asked his father. " I 
 heard a prodigious cannonading." 
 
 " They 're all gone," said Phippy, " but my double-header. 
 Would you like to hear that ? "
 
 142 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Why don't you keep it, Phippy," said her mother, " as a gun to 
 call us to dinner, when the time comes." 
 
 " Well, I will. Is n't it 'most time for dinner ? I begin to feel 
 hungry." 
 
 " Oh, we must celebrate the Fourth nrstj" said her father. 
 " When people celebrate the Fourth of July, they eat a dinner, but 
 first they have speeches and music. I think we ought to have sqme 
 music at any rate," and he drew from his pocket a jew's-harp, a har- 
 monica, a rattle, a penny whistle, and a pair of bones. The chil- 
 dren clapped their hands with delight, and fo e gan stretching out for 
 the toys. " Let me see," said he, " there are just enough to go 
 round, but we have n't any audience, and shall have to pretend that 
 Nep and the bugs and beetles are the audience." He gave the 
 penny whistle to Nathan, the rattle to Lucy, the harmonica to 
 Phippy, kept the bones for himself, and then gave the jew's-harp to 
 Mrs. Bodley. 
 
 "Now, Nathan, you can be leader; you must beat the air with 
 your penny whistle, just as the leader of the orchestra does, then 
 clap it into your mouth and we '11 all play Yankee JDoodle just as 
 hard as we can." It was a most successful concert. Away went 
 the tune in every direction. Mrs. Bodley breathed it forth from 
 the jew's-harp ; Phippy and Nathan thought they played it on their 
 instruments ; Lucy sprang her rattle vigorously ; and above all was 
 heard the clapping of the bones in a most lively fashion. 
 
 " Now, papa, make a speech," said Nathan. 
 
 " No, I won't make a speech ; we '11 celebrate the Fourth in our 
 own fashion, and each of us will tell a story. Lucy shall tell one' 
 first. Come, Lucy." 
 
 " You tell one first, Phippy, while I try to think of one," said 
 Lucy.
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 143. 
 
 " Well, I '11 tell one," said Phippy. " But would n't you fire off 
 my double-header first?" 
 
 " Oh no, Phip," said Nathan. " Don't let 's fire it off yet." 
 
 " Well," said she, sitting up very straight, " I '11 tell you a story 
 I read in a book once. Once upon a time there were two men who 
 were traveling through a desert. The desert was full of sand: It 
 was an immense desert, oh, an immense desert." 
 
 " As big as our place ? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " Oh, ten thousand times bigger, and it was full of sand. When 
 you walked, you kept putting your feet into this smooth, hot sand, 
 and it was very prickly. " No, the sand was n't particularly prickly, 
 but there were prickly plants in it, all full of little teenty bits of 
 prickles, and if you ran them into your foot, you would think you 
 had stepped into a wasp's nest. Then what comes next ? Oh, I 
 know, these two travelers were walking across this immense desert, 
 and they had walked for days and days, and were awfully tired, 
 when they be,gan to see mountains in the distance, and so they knew 
 they were coming near to water, and they were dreadfully thirsty. 
 Well, they walked and they walked over this immense desert of 
 sand " 
 
 " Seems to me they have n't got on at all," said Nathan, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Oh, you wait, Nathan ; they '11 come to something pretty soon. 
 As they walked, and thought they never should cqine to a mountain, 
 suddenly, all at once, what do you think they saw ? " 
 
 " A spring," said Lucy. 
 
 " An oasis," said Nathan. 
 
 They saw a hillock." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " said Nathan, " that was n't much to see."
 
 144 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Yes, but what if you should see a hillock begin to rise right up 
 so/' said the little girl, gradually rising and throwing her arms up, 
 while her voice grew shriller, " and the hillock should turn into a 
 Tremendous Giant that doubled up his fist and set up a great roar, 
 and look as if he was going to eat up the two poor travelers. They 
 shook, and they quaked for fear, and tried to get behind each other, 
 and one did get behind the other, and he told him to be gentle and 
 not to irritate the giant. Then the giant roared out : 
 
 " ( Let me pound you to atoms of dust who are you that dare 
 to come into my dominion ? ' Then the one who was in front spoke 
 up and said : 
 
 " ' good giant, we are only walking through this immense desert, 
 but there is a great caravan behind us, with figs and dates and all 
 sorts of splendid things in it, and we can lead them this way, if you 
 will first let us go into the mountains beyond, and bring back word 
 of what we find there.' Now the tremendous giant was a stupid 
 giant, and he believed them ; and so he let them go by and they 
 never came back, but lived in peace, and died in Greece." 
 
 " And what became of the giant ? " asked Nathan. 
 
 " Oh, he tumbled over after a while. No he did n't either. He 
 waited for the caravan and it never came, and he got angry and 
 blew up. People sometimes blow up when they get very angry. 
 Now let's fire off my double-header." 
 
 " No, no," said Nathan, " we ought to hear all the stories first. 
 Now, Lucy, it 's your turn." 
 
 " I don't think I know any stories now that I can tell," said she. 
 
 " Well, you know some poetry don't you ? " asked Nathan. 
 " Every one must do something, because it's Fourth of July." 
 
 " Don't you know ' Dimple and Rosy wing ' ? " asked her mama.
 
 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS GIANT.
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 
 
 147 
 
 " So I do. I '11 say that," and she looked very much pleased, and 
 said, quite prettily, the little fairy tale of 
 
 DIMPLE AND ROSY WING. 
 
 Under the daisies two little fairies, 
 Dimple and Rosywing, 
 
 " Up and down they balanced and swung." 
 
 Across a stem of red strawberries 
 Made a grass-blade tilt and swing.
 
 148 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Ho ! " said Dimple, ~" now for a ride ; " 
 "Now for a tilt," said both together; 
 One on each end, they jumped astride, 
 And up went Dimple, light as a feather ; 
 
 And down in the grass went Rosy wing ; 
 
 But he kicked with his dainty feet, 
 And up he went, with a flutter and spring, 
 
 Up where the daisies and grass-heads meet. 
 
 Up and down they balanced and swung, 
 
 And laughed so loud, the bumblebees 
 Turned on the clovers where they hung, 
 
 And stared, and rubbed their dusty knees. 
 
 A grasshopper, walking up a daisy, 
 
 Cheered and cheered; and a cricket frisked 
 
 Out of his hole, as if he were crazy, 
 
 Cackled and laughed, and back he whisked. 
 
 By and by, at the close of day, 
 
 Their mother came ; and when they told her, 
 
 She kissed them, and gayly bore them away, 
 Dancing off with one on each shoulder. 
 
 " Now, papa," said Nathan, who seemed to have taken it on him- 
 self to direct the proceedings, " I think we will hear your story 
 now." 
 
 " How would you like to hear about old Paul Bodley, whose tomb 
 you found, back by the ledge ? " 
 
 " Oh, do tell us about him," cried the children. 
 
 "He was P. B., 1675," said Phippy, promptly.
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 149 
 
 " Yes, that was the year he died, a hundred and seventy-five 
 years ago. He was your great, great, great, great grandfather." 
 
 " Oh dear," said Lucy, softly. " Was he as big as Phippy's 
 giant?" 
 
 " Big ? Oh no, he was quite a little man, judging from his pict- 
 ure. He came in a ship from England about ten years before he 
 died here, and he brought with him his wife and one little boy. He 
 was a rope-maker in England, so when he came over here, the first 
 thing he did after building a log house, was to make a rope-walk." 
 
 " Why, there isn't any water round the ledge," said Nathan. 
 
 " Oh, it wasn't necessary to build his rope-walk like those you 
 have seen in marshy places. He did not build any house over it at 
 all, but drove posts into the ground, fastened cords to them, and 
 walked back and forth, twisting them. Then his house was not like 
 ours. It was built of logs, the chinks filled in with earth, and the 
 roof thatched with grass ; but after a while he came to be a well-to- 
 do man and he built a frame house ; the upper story coming out be- 
 yond the lower story, and the roof sloping behind nearly down to 
 the ground. He had a great chimney in the middle, and a fire-place 
 so big that logs four feet long could be burned in it. In the corner 
 was a seat, and there little Jacob Bodley, who was ten years old 
 when his father brought him over, used to sit, and he could look up 
 through the chimney at night, and see the stars shining. There 
 they lived, eating hasty-pudding, and wild turkeys, and geese, and 
 drinking cider and beer, which they made themselves, and Paul Bod- 
 ley and his son made rope, and as there were ships made and fitted 
 out, they found they could sell as much rope as they could make. 
 The Indians used to come by and stop often, but they were near the 
 town, and no one did them any injury, but by and by, there was a
 
 150 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 war between the Indians and English, which was called King Philip's 
 War, because the chief Indian went by the name of King Philip. 
 The Indians began to be very troublesome. There was one who 
 came to the house of a man named John Minot, who lived not a 
 great way from here in Dorchester. John had gone to church with 
 all his family, except a servant-girl and two small children. The 
 girl saw the Indian coming, and was afraid and barred the door, and 
 the Indian found he could not get into the house, so he fired his gun 
 into it hoping to hit somebody. But what should this brave girl do, 
 but get out a couple of copper kettles, and put one over each of the 
 children, and then she went up-stairs and got a gun, and fired at the 
 Indian. She wounded him in the shoulder, but he had found out 
 there was no one but this girl in the house, so he broke a window 
 and was crawling in through it, when she rushed to the fire-place, 
 took up a shovel, and shoveled some burning coals, and then ran at 
 him with them. That made him crawl back and get away as fast as 
 he could. You see in those days, one needed to be very brave. 
 Well, old Paul Bodley, though he was not so very old, was a mem- 
 ber of one of the military companies that marched out to attack the 
 Indians. He was in Captain Mosley's company, and all I can find 
 out was that he was killed in one of the excursions, and his body 
 was brought back and buried where the old tomb is. But Jacob 
 was now twenty years old, and he stayed with his mother, and in 
 course of time he was married, and so the family was kept up. The 
 old house was deserted years ago, and gradually dropped to pieces, 
 and now there are no signs left of it. And that is all I can tell you 
 about your great, great, great, great grandfather. Now I think 
 we ought to have a story from your mother." 
 
 " I won't tell a long story," said she, " but this pond makes me
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 
 
 151 
 
 think of a sight I saw a few years ago, when I was walking here. 
 Your father and I had come out from the city for a walk, and he was 
 
 showing me where old Paul Bodley once lived, and then we came 
 through the woods, and into this path and by the pond. Just below
 
 152 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 here where you see that old fence and the trees and rocks, we saw 
 two boys playing with a sail-boat. The boat had its sail set, and a 
 little wooden man was leaning against the mast, the captain I sup- 
 pose he was. One of the boys was kneeling down by it, and talking 
 to the other who was on the bank. 
 
 " ' Boys,' I called out, but they.did not answer me, though they 
 were so near. Your father threw a stone into the water. It struck 
 behind them, and made a noise, but they did not turn round. 
 ' They must be very busy/ said I to your father, when just then I 
 noticed that one of them, instead of holding up something in his 
 hand, as I thought he was doing, made his fingers go, and then I 
 saw that he was talking with his fingers to the other." 
 
 " Why, mother," said Nathan, " how could he ? " 
 
 " They were both deaf and dumb, Thanny ; they could neither 
 hear anything that was said, nor speak to each other as we can, but 
 they could make signs with their fingers, for that is the way the 
 deaf and dumb talk. So your father and I went up to them. I can 
 talk with my fingers, and I talked with them, and I found that they 
 had corne out here to play with their boat, and had been on opposite 
 sides of the pond, playing that they were sending a ship across the 
 Atlantic ; and now one of them had run quite round the Atlantic, by 
 way of Greenland, he explained to me, to see if his ship had got 
 safely in." 
 
 " I should like to have seen that," said Phippy. "Why can't we 
 have a boat to sail here, and then I could fire off my double-header 
 when it started. Nathan, it 's your turn to tell a story." Nathan 
 knit his brows, trying to think of something he said he meant to tell. 
 Then he began : 
 
 " This is the story of a boy named John Tobey "
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 155 
 
 ." Why, John Tobey goes to our school," said Phippy, " and his 
 father 's got a donkey." 
 
 " Now, Phippy, that 's real mean. You '11 spoil all my story." 
 
 " Go on, Nathan," said his father. " Phippy was taken aback by 
 your story, it was so life-like. She won't interrupt you again." 
 
 " Well, John Tobey was a kind boy, and he had a donkey, and 
 would n't the donkey go ? Oh, yes, yes. One day he harnessed him 
 in a cart, and he asked another boy who went to the same school, 
 whose name began with N " 
 
 " Nathan ! Nathan ! " shouted both Phippy and Lucy at once. 
 
 " No it wasn't," said he, triumphantly, " it was Nicholas." 
 
 " Oh, Nick Green," said Phippy. 
 
 " Now, Phippy, you said you would n't," and Nathan looked very 
 much injured. 
 
 " Let Nathan finish his story," said his mother. " We want to 
 hear what happened to John Tobey and the boy whose name began 
 with N." 
 
 " Well, John Tobey asked that other boy if he would n't like to 
 take a ride with him in his donkey-cart, so that other boy got in, 
 and away they went like everything, down the road, and all the 
 dogs and geese along the road began to bark and hiss, and there 
 was a great dust, and that is all my story. Oh, no, there 's another 
 chapter. There was another boy who went to the same school, and 
 his name began with N, too, and he said he wished his father had a 
 donkey and a donkey-cart." 
 
 " We must call Nep a donkey," laughed Mr. Bodley ; and then 
 they all -began a chase after Nep, who led them on a great frolic. 
 
 " Now, then, for my double-header," said Phippy. 
 
 " Wait till dinner," said Nathan, " and then we '11 fire it off just 
 before we sit down."
 
 156 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Yes," said her father, " you are wanted now to help make the 
 fire." 
 
 " A fire ! " said Phippy, " are we really going to have a fire ? " 
 
 " To be sure. Else how could we cook our potatoes, and bake our 
 apples ? " 
 
 " Oh, goody ! " cried she, and in a moment she was at work gath- 
 ering sticks. They found some well-shaped stones, and built a little 
 fire-place near the water's edge. Nathan was wheeled up in the 
 little cart, and given a long stick with which first to poke the fire, 
 and then to skewer an apple for roasting. Mrs. Bodley and Lucy 
 laid the table on a flat rock, and found some wild flowers with which 
 they dressed it. 
 
 " Dinner 's ready ! " at last they cried. 
 
 "Now for my double-header," shouted Phippy. They all put 
 their fingers in their ears while Phippy at a safe distance touched 
 off the double-header, and watched behind a tree for the fusee to> 
 burn down. It burned slowly, slowly, and then fizz, fizz! the 
 double-header gave a little squirm and that was all. Alas ! the 
 powder was wet. Phippy remembered that she had put it on a 
 boat which she had sailed in the trough, and it might have tipped 
 over once or twice, she was n't quite sure. However the dinner 
 was -good ; they became very hot, roasting potatoes and apples, and 
 they ate the chicken and the bread and butter, and Nathan had the 
 thick pieces because he had sprained his ankle, and they drank the 
 cool milk that was in the tin pail, and Nep had a mighty fine dinner 
 over chicken bones. It was the middle of the afternoon before they 
 went home, and after tea, though the children were pretty sleepy, 
 they begged to sit up and see the fire- works. So they all went up 
 into the great play-room and looked out of the window and saw the
 
 A FAMOUS RIDE. 157 
 
 rockets go up, and the roman candles, and after saying oo ! a great 
 many times, finally went to bed, and slept soundly all night. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A FAMOUS HIDE. 
 
 IT sometimes rains, even in summer, and one day, near the end of 
 July, there had been a cold, easterly storm, which kept the children 
 in-doors. Mr. Bodley came home from the city at nighjb, and found 
 the mother with Lucy and Nathan in her room, telling them stories. 
 Nathan was able to walk about now with the help of a stick, but he 
 had to be pretty careful. 
 
 " Where is Phippy ? " asked her father. 
 
 " She is up in the play-room," said Lucy ; " she 's got a secret, 
 and we 're not to come up till she calls us." At this moment, 
 Phippy's high pitched voice was heard above, 
 
 " Come, children ! " 
 
 " We '11 all go," said her father, and he picked up Nathan and 
 carried him puss-back. They climbed the stairs, but the attic door 
 was shut. Mr. Bodley knocked. Little feet were heard coming 
 slowly toward the door, and Phippy, with a book in her hand, looking 
 very wise, opened the door and stood before them. 
 
 " Are you the school-committee ? " she asked. " Would you like 
 to come in and examine my school ? " 
 
 " Very much," said Mr. Bodley. " This lady may like to put her 
 children to school to you." 
 
 " Oh, I don't take little children," said she. " I only take poor
 
 158 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 people whose education has been neglected. But walk in, ladies 
 and gentlemen. The class in reading is now ready to recite." They 
 followed her into the farther part of the room, and then they all set 
 up a shout, for Phippy had made out of coats and boots two such 
 queer looking bogies, that in the dark it was almost fearful to see 
 them, they looked so alive. 
 
 The Bogies at School. 
 
 " Well done ! " cried her father. " You are 
 
 " A grave little school-dame, wiser than your betters, 
 You make your own scholars, then teach them their letters." 
 
 They all romped about the attic, and finally left Bugaboo and 
 Fee-fo-fum, as Phippy called them, to sit in their chairs all night,
 
 A FAMOUS RIDE. 159 
 
 while the school-teacher and the school committee went down-stairs 
 to tea. After tea was always the children's play hour, and dearly 
 they loved it, whether in-doors or out, for then their father and 
 mother could play with them. Usually in this summer time they 
 were all out of doors together, but to-night this could not be. The 
 storm, too, made it grow dark early, and even cold, so that they had 
 a little bit of a w r ood fire in the library, and all sat before that. 
 
 " Now, papa, for a story," said Phippy, sitting in her chair very 
 straight and smoothing her dress down in front. u Mama has told 
 us stories this afternoon, and I think she would like to hear one, too." 
 
 " Well, did mama ever tell you the story of John Gilpin ? " 
 The children had heard a good many .stories from their mama, but 
 they could not seem to remember one with that name. 
 
 "It is a very good story, though," said she. 
 
 " I suppose I could tell it in my own way," said papa, " but it is 
 so much better in the way it was written, that I will repeat it just as 
 William Cowper wrote it." 
 
 " Do you know William Cowper ? " asked Nathan. His father 
 laughed. 
 
 " No. Mr. Cowper has been dead a good many years. He wrote 
 some very sweet hymns that we sing in church, and he wrote this 
 story which he called 
 
 THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. 
 
 SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. 
 
 John Gilpin was a citizen 
 
 Of credit and renown, 
 A train-band Captain eke was he 
 
 Of famous London town.
 
 160 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, 
 " Though wedded we have been 
 These twice ten tedious years, yet we 
 No holiday have seen. 
 
 "To-morrow is our wedding-day, 
 
 And we will then repair 
 
 Unto the Bell at Edmonton, 
 
 All in a chaise and pair. 
 
 " My sister and my sister's child, 
 
 Myself and children three, 
 Will fill the chaise, so you must ride 
 On horseback after we." 
 
 He soon replied, "I do admire 
 
 Of womankind but one, 
 And you are she, my dearest dear 
 
 Therefore it shall be done. 
 
 " I am a linen-draper bold, 
 
 As all the world doth know, 
 And my good friend the Callender 
 Will lend his horse to go." 
 
 Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; 
 
 And for that wine is dear, 
 We will be furnished with our own, 
 
 Which is both bright and clear." 
 
 John Gilpin kissed his loving wife, 
 O'erjoyed was he to find 
 
 That though on pleasure she was bent, 
 She had a frugal mind.
 
 A FAMOUS RIDE. 161 
 
 The morning came, the chaise was brought, 
 
 But yet was not allowed 
 To drive up to the door, lest all 
 
 Should say that she was proud. 
 
 So three doors off the chaise was stayed, 
 
 Where they did all get in, 
 Six precious souls, and all agog 
 
 To dash through thick and thin. 
 
 Smack went the whip, round went the wheel. 
 
 Were never folk so glad, 
 The stones did rattle underneath 
 
 As if Cheapside were mad. 
 
 John Gil pin at his horse's side 
 
 Seized fast the flowing mane, 
 And up he got in haste to ride, 
 
 But soon came down again. 
 
 For saddle-tree, scarce reached had he, 
 
 His journey to begin, 
 When turning round his head he saw 
 
 Three customers come in. 
 
 So down he came, for loss of time 
 
 Although it grieved him sore, 
 Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 
 
 Would trouble him much more. 
 
 'T was long before the customers 
 
 Were suited to their mind, 
 When Betty screamirtg came down-stairs, 
 " The wine is left behind." 
 11
 
 162 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 ft Good lack ! " quoth he, " yet bring it me, 
 
 My leathern belt likewise, 
 In which I bear my trusty sword 
 When I do exercise." 
 
 Now Mistress Gilpin, careful soul, 
 Had two stone bottles found, 
 
 To hold the liquor that she loved, 
 And keep it safe and sound. 
 
 Each bottle had a curling ear, 
 Through which the belt he drew, 
 
 And hung a bottle on each side, 
 To make his balance true. 
 
 Then over all, that he might be 
 
 Equipped from top to toe, 
 His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, 
 
 He manfully did throw. 
 
 Now see him mounted once again 
 
 Upon his nimble steed, 
 Full slowly pacing o'er the stones 
 
 With caution and good heed. 
 
 But finding soon a smoother road 
 Beneath his well-shod feet, 
 
 The snorting beast began to trot, 
 Which galled him in his seat. 
 
 So, " Fair and softly," John he cried, 
 But John he cried in vain, 
 
 That trot became a gallop soon 
 In spite of curb and rein.
 
 A FAMOUS RIDE. 163 
 
 So stooping down, as needs he must 
 
 Who cannot sit upright, 
 He grasped the mane with both his hands 
 
 And eke with all his might. 
 
 His horse, who never in that sort 
 
 Had handled been before, 
 What thing upon his back had got 
 
 Did wonder more and more. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, neck or naught, 
 
 Away went hat and wig, 
 He little dreamt when he set out 
 
 Of running such a rig. 
 
 The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, 
 
 Like streamer long and gay, 
 Till loop and button failing both, 
 
 At last it flew away. 
 
 Then might all people well discern 
 
 The bottles he had slung, 
 A bottle swinging at each side, 
 
 As hath been said or sung. 
 
 The dogs did bark, the children screamed, 
 
 Up flew the windows all, 
 And every soul cried out, " Well done ! " 
 
 As loud as he could bawl. 
 
 Away went Gilpin who but he; 
 
 His fame soon spread around 
 He carries weight, he rides a race, 
 
 'T is for a thousand pound.
 
 164 DOINGS OF THE BODLKY FAMILY. 
 
 And still, as fast as he drew near, 
 'T was wonderful to view 
 
 How in a trice the turnpike-men 
 Their gates wide open threw. 
 
 And now as he went bowing down 
 His reeking head full low, 
 
 The bottles twain behind his back 
 Were shattered at a blow. 
 
 Down ran the wine into the road 
 Most piteous to be seen, 
 
 Which made his horse's flanks to smoke 
 As they had basted been. 
 
 But still he seemed to carry weight, 
 With leathern girdle braced, 
 
 For all might see the bottle necks 
 Still dangling at his waist. 
 
 Thus all through merry Islington 
 These gambols he did play, 
 
 And till he came unto the Wash 
 Of Edmonton so gay. 
 
 And there he threw the Wash about 
 On both sides of the way, 
 
 Just like unto a trundling mop, 
 Or a wild goose at play. 
 
 At Edmonton his loving wife 
 
 From the balcony spied 
 Her tender husband, wondering mush 
 
 To see how he did ride.
 
 h
 
 A FAMOUS RIDE. 167 
 
 " Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! Here 's the house," 
 
 They all at once did cry, 
 " The dinner waits and we are tired : " 
 
 Said Gilpin, "So am I." 
 
 But yet his horse was not a whit 
 
 Inclined to tarry there, 
 For why ? his owner had a house 
 
 Full ten miles off, at Ware. 
 
 So Jike an arrow swift he flew 
 
 Shot by an archer strong, 
 So did he fly which brings me to 
 
 The middle of my song. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 
 
 And sore against his will, 
 Till at his friend the Calender's 
 
 His horse at last stood still. 
 
 
 
 The Callender, amazed to see 
 
 His neighbor in such trim, 
 Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, 
 
 And thus accosted him, 
 
 ' What news ? what news ? your tidings tell, 
 
 Tell me you must and shall 
 Say why bare-headed you are come, 
 Or why you come at all ? " 
 
 Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 
 
 And loved a timely joke, 
 And thus unto the Callender 
 
 In merry guise he spoke,
 
 168 DOINGS OF THE BOD LEY FAMILY. 
 
 u I came because your horse would come ; 
 
 And if I well forbode, 
 My hat and wig will soon be here, 
 They are upon the road." 
 
 The Callender, right glad to find 
 
 His friend in merry pin, 
 Returned him not a single word, 
 
 But to the house went in. 
 
 Whence straight he came with hat and wig, 
 
 A wig that flowed behind, 
 A hat not much the worse for wear, 
 
 Each comely in its kind. 
 
 He held them up and in his turn 
 
 Thus showed his ready wit, 
 "My head is twice as big as yours, 
 They therefore needs must fit. 
 
 " But let me scrape the dirt away 
 
 That hangs upon your face ; 
 And stop and eat, for well you may 
 Be in a hungry case." 
 
 Said John, l< It is my wedding-day. 
 
 And all the world would stare, 
 If wife should dine at Edmonton 
 
 And I should dine at Ware." 
 % 
 
 So turning to his horse, he said, 
 " I am in haste to dine ; 
 'T was for your pleasure you came here, 
 You shall go back for mine."
 
 A FAMOUS RIDE. 169 
 
 Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! 
 
 For which he paid full dear, 
 For while he spake, a braying ass 
 
 Did sing most loud and clear. 
 
 Whereat his horse did snort as he 
 
 Had heard a lion roar, ' 
 And galloped off with all his might 
 
 As he had done before. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, and away 
 
 Went Gilpin's hat and wig; 
 He lost them sooner than at first, 
 
 For why ? they were too big. 
 
 Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
 
 Her husband posting down 
 Into the country far away, 
 
 She pulled out half a crown ; 
 
 And thus unto the youth she said 
 
 That drove them to the Bell, 
 " This shall be yours when you bring back 
 My husband safe and well." 
 
 The youth did ride, and soon did meet 
 
 John coming back amain, 
 Whom in a trice he tried to stop 
 
 By catching at his rein. 
 
 - 
 
 But not performing what he meant, 
 
 And gladly would have done, 
 The frighted steed he frighted more, 
 
 And made him faster run.
 
 170 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, and away 
 Went post-boy at his heels, 
 
 The post-boy's horse right glad to miss 
 The lumbering of the wheels. 
 
 Six gentlemen upon the road 
 
 Thus seeing Gilpin fly, 
 With post-boy scampering in the rear, 
 
 They raised the hue and cry. 
 
 "Stop thief, stop thief a highwayman!** 
 
 Not one of them was mute, 
 And all and each that passed that way 
 Did join in the pursuit. 
 
 And now the turnpike gates again 
 
 Flew open in short space, 
 The toll-man thinking as before 
 
 That Gilpin rode a race. 
 
 And so he did, and won it too, 
 
 For he got first to town, 
 Nor stopped till where he had got up 
 
 He did again get down. 
 
 Now let us sing, " Long live the king, 
 
 And Gilpin long live he, 
 And when he next doth ride abroad, 
 
 May I be there to see ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " said Phippy, when her father had ended, " Nathan 's 
 asleep." So he was. Much effort all day to amuse himself had 
 made the little fellow gallop off with John Gilpin to the Land of
 
 ROBBERS! 171 
 
 Nod, and there he lay so sound asleep, that the stopping of their 
 voices did not awake him. 
 
 " Let 's carry him up-stairs," said Lucy ; so Mr. Bodley took him 
 in his arms, and Mrs. Bodley took a candle and the two little girls 
 marched before, and thus they all went up to Nathan's room. 
 
 " Won't he be surprised when he wakes up ! " said Phippy, as she 
 and Lucy went off to their bed. 
 
 Mrs. Bodley undressed her little boy, still sleeping soundly, and 
 tucked him into bed. She looked out of the window to see if it was 
 still raining. The rain had stopped, but the wind was blowing yet, 
 and she could see the honeysuckle vine that climbed up the trellis 
 below, tossing in the wind. It was a dark night, and she thought 
 of the ships and sailors in the bay, and was glad it was not winter. 
 Then she kissed Nathan one more good-night, and going to her little 
 girls, saw them safely in bed, and went down-stairs to her husband. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ROBBERS ! 
 
 IN the middle of the night Mr. Bodley waked, hearing a great 
 scream from Nathan. Both he and Mrs. Bodley jumped up and ran 
 at once to the little room where he slept. They found him sitting 
 upright in bed, crying and trembling. 
 
 " Why, what is it ? " asked his mother, taking his head in her 
 arms. 
 
 " There ! there ! out of the window ! " he cried, and his father 
 went to the window. It was wide open. He looked out, but could 
 see nothing, for it was very dark.
 
 172 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " There 's nothing there," said he to Nathan, as he came back. 
 " Sarah, did you leave the window open ? " 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Bodley. " I closed it when Nathan went to 
 bed." 
 
 " It was a man! " said Nathan, trembling, and as soon as he could 
 get his voice. " He opened the window, and was just climbing in, 
 when I cried and he went back." Mr. Bodley carried Nathan into 
 his own room, and then took a lamp and went through the house. 
 He called Martin, who slept in a room over, the shed, and they 
 lighted the lantern and went into the garden. As they came to the 
 trellis over which the honeysuckle climbed, they found marks of 
 boots in the soft earth. 
 
 " Do you suppose that trellis would bear a man, Martin ? " asked 
 Mr. Bodley. 
 
 " I guess it did," said he. " Look here," and he showed how 
 the vines on the trellis had been bruised, and there were marks of 
 dirt where the feet had pressed. They examined the foot-prints, 
 and as nearly as they could make out there was but one man, and 
 he must have gone away through the grapery. It was idle to follow 
 him after such a lapse of time, and they re-entered the house. The 
 other children had not waked, and Mrs. Bodley had rocked Nathan 
 in her arms until he was soothed, and now was sound asleep. 
 
 " Did you find any one ? " she whispered to her husband, as he 
 came in. 
 
 " I found the foot-prints of the savage," said he, " but he has 
 rowed off in his canoe, I suppose." 
 
 When Nathan awoke the next morning, he was at first very much 
 surprised to find himself on the lounge in his mother's room. Then 
 he remembered how he came there. His father and mother were
 
 ROBBERS! 173 
 
 not yet awake, and he lay still, feeling very safe in their room, but 
 started as he heard noises in the house. He got up and limped 
 across the floor to the bed and shook his father's arm. 
 
 " Papa ! papa ! there 's somebody in the house ! " His father 
 woke up with a start, and saw Nathan in his night-gown standing 
 there, his eyes very big. 
 
 " Get back to bed, Nathan. Of course there 's somebody in the 
 house. We 're not all out of doors." But they were all awake now, 
 and it was not long before they had breakfast. Nathan had found 
 Phippy and Lucy, and told them the dreadful news, and the little 
 girls were in great excitement. 
 
 " Only think ! " said Phippy, " he may be down in the Grove 
 now." 
 
 " Oh, no," said her mother, " he will not stay about here now." 
 
 "He 'd better not," said Nathan, who had already grown quite 
 bold. " I rather think Martin would fire the crow-bar at him." 
 
 " Is the crow-bar loaded ? " asked Mr. Bodley. " I suppose you 
 would finish the man with your bow and arrows." 
 
 " Why, papa," said Nathan, very much in earnest, " the crow- 
 bar is very heavy, and Martin can balance it on his little finger. He 
 says Hen used to balance it on the tip of his nose." 
 
 "That Hen, it seems to me, was a wonderful fellow," said Mr. 
 Bodley. " Whatever Martin could do, Hen always seemed to do a 
 little better." 
 
 " Hen 's in California," said Phippy ; " Martin had a letter from 
 him. He 's picking up chunks of gold, Martin says." 
 
 " I 've no doubt of it," said Mr. Bodley. " I don't believe Hen 
 would st6op to a piece smaller than a hen's egg. But, Thanny, I 
 remember reading a story once about a very nimble little fellow >
 
 174 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 who was a match for half a dozen bold ruffians. He was called Jack 
 o' the Mill, and lived in England a good many hundred years ago. 
 One day he was at an inn, and a number of rough fellows in the 
 kitchen, where they were eating supper, began to plague him. He 
 was very sharp in his answers, and this made them angry. They 
 said they meant to search him, to see if he had any secret letters 
 about him, for it was a time when everything was in confusion in 
 England. Jack called to the innkeeper to protect him, but he was 
 afraid of the rough fellows and could do nothing. Then Jack drew 
 his sword and they all laughed at him, and began to crowd around 
 him. He jumped upon the supper table, and then sprang upon the- 
 great mantel-piece over the huge fire-place that they had in those 
 days. The men could not reach him with their swords, and so one 
 of them fan for a pike. ' Have a care,' cried Jack, and suddenly he 
 seized some heavy flat-irons that stood in a row on the shelf, and in 
 a twinkling flung them down one after another. Over went the inn- 
 keeper, and the men began to run about to get on chairs so as to 
 reach Jack. Down came a shower of candlesticks, stewpans, 
 cleavers; "Stop, stop," they cried, but just then Jack spied a row 
 of hams, flitches of bacon and big cheeses on a rack above him. He 
 cut the string that fastened the rack, and down they all came tum- 
 bling on the heads of the men, and Jack, in the confusion, jumped 
 down from his perch and made his way out of the door. Now, per- 
 haps, Thanny, if you had lived in these days you would have been 
 as brave, eh ? " 
 
 " There isn't much room on the mantel-piece," said Nathan, turn- 
 ing round. 
 
 " No," said his father, " and I don't think the little match-safe 
 and toothpick case would do much harm except to themselves."
 
 , 
 
 JACK 0' THE MILL.
 
 ROBBERS! 
 
 177 
 
 " I should n't think that man would like to have come in such 
 a hard rain-storm last night," said Phippy." 
 
 " He chose the night because it was so stormy, and the wind blew 
 so that no one could hear him." 
 
 " It was a good deal of a storm," said Mrs. Bodley, who had been 
 reading the morning paner. " They felt it very severely in Provi- 
 dence, I see." 
 
 The Great Storm of 1815 in Providence. 
 
 "Ah, but not as they did in 1815. Do you remember that, 
 Sarah ? You were in Providence then, but you could only have 
 been about five or six years old." 
 
 " I can just remember it," said she. " But I have often heard 
 
 12
 
 178 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 my father tell of it. The vessels were all driven about by the storm ; 
 they finally broke the bridge, and went rushing through the gap 
 like a herd of cattle. I remember being taken afterward to see a 
 sloop that had floated across Weybosset Street and finally lodged in 
 Pleasant Street, by the side of a three story house, and the mast 
 reached up above the roof. Houses were carried away by the flood, 
 and a great deal of damage was done." 
 
 " Was grandpa hurt? " asked Lucy. 
 
 " No, though he lost some ships then. But we were all thankful 
 not to have our house blown down over our heads." 
 
 " Do you think the sea could ever come up as far as this ? " asked 
 Lucy. " I can see it out of the play-room window." 
 
 " No indeed, darling," said her mother. " We are safe from the 
 sea here. But it is too wet for you to go out this morning, and if 
 you will come up into my room when papa has gone to town, I will 
 tell you a fairy tale about the sea." 
 
 Nathan did not care about the fairy tale, so he stayed and played 
 with Mouse Castle, but Phippy and Lucy sat down with their mother 
 in her room. It was a very pleasant room, and they had heard a 
 good many stories there, and they dearly loved to draw some chairs 
 together just like grown folks as they said, and sit and have a good 
 talk with mama. Sometimes she 'sewed as she read to them or 
 told them stories, and sometimes they also sewed, but this morning 
 the children had been excited by the robber and the stories of Jack 
 o' the Mill, and of the great flood at Providence, so Mrs. Bodley let 
 them draw the chairs together while she told them in verse a little 
 fairy tale. Phippy's eyes shone with delight as she began, and Lucy 
 was pleased too. She did not like the dreadful stones, she said ;
 
 ROB HERS ! 
 
 179 
 
 and she was always ready to hear a real fairy tale, such as her 
 mother told. This is the story which was told the children : 
 
 The Story-Teller and the Little Listeners. 
 
 A TALE OF THE SUNSET SEA. 
 
 Late, in the golden sunset light, 
 A moth flew past, all shimmering white ; 
 And a fairy boy, 
 With shouts of joy, 
 Followed his rapid flight. 
 " Oh, fairy boy, come back, come back ! " 
 
 Sweet voices were heard to cry, 
 " The fairy that follows the white moth's track, 
 Swept from the verge of the mountain high 
 By the winds of night, shall drowned be, 
 Far away, in the Sunset Sea."
 
 180 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 The fairy boy ne'er stopped to list, 
 He fled the faster and farther, I wist. 
 
 With my daisy lamps, in the moon alight, 
 All round my chamber, glimmering white, 
 I pulled a clover-leaf over my head, 
 And went to sleep in my swinging bed ; 
 
 When a rush, a hue and cry, 
 Awakened me from the gayest dreams: 
 A troop of fairies were sweeping by ; 
 
 Some, dragged by teams 
 Of fire-flies, glanced ahead ; and some 
 Blew horns of the honeysuckle red, 
 And some rang flower-bells overhead. 
 They shouted to me " Have you seen, to-night, 
 
 A fairy boy pass by ? " 
 I answered, " Yes, in the sunset light, 
 Following fast the white moth's flight, 
 
 Toward the sunset sky." 
 With a scream and wail, they fled away, 
 And were lost iu the shadows long and gray.
 
 ROBBERS] 
 
 When the sun was up, 
 I drank a cup 
 Of dew, and ate 
 
 Fresh honey off a flower-leaf plate. 
 Then I harnessed my team of grasshoppers green, 
 
 To my car with the daisy wheels ; 
 With my long whip-lash of grass, I ween, 
 I made them skip o'er the fields. 
 
 181 
 
 With long, stout legs, and clicking wings, 
 By steady flights, and jerking springs, 
 They bore me, at last, to the great white slide 
 That lies on the gloomy mountain side. 
 I stepped from my car on a bed of moss, 
 With sweet-grass fringe as fine as floss, 
 And J rang a blue-bell, swinging tall, 
 Beside the white elves' castle wall. 
 
 A white elf came 
 
 With a beard like flame
 
 182 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 And steel-blue eyes, 
 Round with surprise. 
 " O Daisy wing ! is it you ? " he cried, 
 " So early up on our mountain side ? " 
 " Yes, it is me, Rothbart ! I 've come 
 To borrow your cap and magical drum ; 
 Iii return, I bring you a clover-horn, 
 
 Filled with honey this very morn ; 
 
 And a bag of the golden dust that grows 
 
 Close to the heart of the double rose." 
 
 Then he gave me, with joy, his wonderful cap, 
 
 And his magical drum ; and said, 
 ; Who wears this cap, may sit in the lap 
 Of the clouds that sail o'erhead ; 
 Who beats this drum o'er the Sunset Sea, 
 Shall raise the fairies that drowned be." 
 
 With the drum in iny lap, 
 
 1 put on the cap,
 
 ROBBERS! 
 
 When a light wind came, 
 
 And up I rose, like the smoke from flame ; 
 
 A soft, white cloud floated up to me, 
 
 And I sat me down in its lap, 
 And we sailed away to the Sunset Sea, 
 
 Blest be the wonderful cap ! 
 All day long we sailed, and sailed. 
 
 Through the blue and lonely sky ; 
 Till we knew, from the golden fleets we hailed, 
 
 That the Sunset Sea was nigh. 
 
 183 
 
 Soon, on its broad and shining breast 
 We furled our sails, and lay at rest. 
 
 Then I beat on the magical drum, 
 And listened long, but I heard no sound ; 
 Only a ripple circled round ; 
 
 When, hush ! a faint, low hum, 
 And near me arose a bubble bright ; 
 It broke, and, flashing into the light, 
 
 The fairy boy, with dripping wings, 
 Threw up his arms, and cried to me ; 
 
 I caught him by the silken rings
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Of his hair, and laid him on my knee ; 
 And when there came a favoring gale, 
 The cloud spread every fleecy sail, 
 
 And we sailed all night 
 
 By the full moon's light, 
 
 And at dawn by the great, dark mountain top, 
 The cloud let all its anchors drop. 
 
 Then I went to Rothbart's castle again, 
 
 And gave him his cap and drum ; 
 And I said, " O best of the elvish men, 
 
 Another time I will come, 
 And bring you the scarlet strawberries' wine, 
 And drinking horns of the columbine, 
 And pillows of thistledown, and a spread 
 Of honey-bees' fur to cover your bed." 
 
 He gave me my team of grasshoppers green, 
 And my car with the daisy-wheels ;
 
 ROBBERS;' 185 
 
 Throned on my lap, the fairy boy 
 
 Shouted with joy, 
 And waved my grass-blade lash, I ween, 
 
 About my grasshoppers' heels. 
 Away we went down the mountain side, 
 A wild, a dizzy, a glorious ride ! 
 I carried the boy to the beautiful dell, 
 Where all his fairy kinsfolk dwell ; 
 I set him down on a leaf close by, 
 Where I heard a fairy sob and cry, 
 And I sped away to my home again ; 
 But on the way I heard a strain 
 Of loud rejoicing, singing sweet, 
 And grass-stem flutes, and viols meet 
 To measure the time for dancing feet. 
 
 Phippy and Lucy sat perfectly still to the end, then Lucy came 
 and laid her head in her mother's lap, and Phippy danced out of the 
 room to find Nathan. She liked variety, and when she was done 
 with a fairy tale she was ready for something else. As for Lucy, 
 the story had quieted her, and she liked best just then to be taken 
 into her mother's arms and sung to sleep. It was a simple little 
 song that her mother sang to her ; one she had sung to her babies 
 when they could only be charmed by the lull of the music, and now 
 sang once in a while to Lucy, who loved the words as well. 
 
 MOTHER'S EYES. 
 
 What are the songs the mother sings ? 
 Of birds, and flowers, and pretty things. 
 Baby lies in her arms and spies 
 All her world in her mother's eyes.
 
 186 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 What are the tales the mother tells ? 
 Of gems and jewels and silver bells. 
 Baby lies in her arms and spies 
 All her wealth in her mother's eyes. 
 
 What are the thoughts in the mother's mind ? 
 Of gentle Jesus, loving and kind. 
 Baby lies in her arms and spies 
 All her heaven in her mother's eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 
 
 NATHAN'S ankle was quite well again before vacation was over, and 
 he was running about as hard as ever, and climbed quite as many 
 trees and sheds as before. Nep had been put in training, and had 
 learned to draw the little cart tolerably well, and now that Nathan 
 could ride in it and drive him he was likely to get considerable prac- 
 tice. The trouble was, that though Nep would stand patiently while 
 the harness was fitted to him and would take his place in the shafts 
 as if he expected to trot to town on family business, he had certain 
 plans of his own which did not always agree with Nathan's. He 
 could not understand why that little fellow was so continually 
 twitching his mouth on one side or the other, and what earthly rea- 
 
 C2 / / 
 
 son he had for objecting to his going to the side of the road occa- 
 sionally, when Nep knew very well that they often chased each 
 other back and forth, over fences too. Nathan found one way to 
 get a good smart trot out of Nep. He would get Nep into the mid-
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 187 
 
 die of the avenue, arrange the cart behind him, get in, gather the 
 reins and then fling a stone as far as he could down the avenue. 
 Away Nep would bound till he came to the stone, which he would 
 seize, when Nathan would get out, take the stone away from him, 
 throw it a bit farther, and in that way they got over the road in 
 line style. 
 
 The dog was not Nathan's only companion. He had his rabbits 
 and he had his pig, and from the amount of time he spent looking 
 into the pig-pen, one would think that piggy was his most intimate 
 fr,iend. Then there was Mr. Bottom, and Nathan had begun to ride 
 him. He was a dreadfully hard horse to ride, but as Nathan had 
 never ridden any other, he supposed that it was part of horseback 
 riding to be jounced and racked as he was. The cow was another 
 of Nathan's friends. He drove her to pasture sometimes and had 
 even ridden her when Martin Jed her. One day she was fastened 
 by a long rope to the crow-bar which was planted in the lawn ; she 
 was allowed to eat all the grass she could find within reach, and Na- 
 than spied her lying on the lawn and chewing the cud. 
 
 "I can jump over that cow, Phippy," said he, "just as easy as 
 not." 
 
 " Oh you can't, Nathan." 
 
 " Well I can vault over her." 
 
 " But she 's higher than the fence that you tried to vault over 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Well, I can climb over her, anyway," said he, so he ran up to 
 the cow and began to clamber over her. He had just succeeded in 
 getting upon her backbone when the cow either finished her cud or 
 became inquisitive, for she got up on her legs, and with the rising, 
 over went Nathan upon the ground more frightened than hurt.
 
 188 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 The fact was when Nathan could use his ankle freely again, he 
 was so glad to be able to use it, that he went leaping and running 
 and vaulting in all directions. What he liked best of all was to play 
 leap-frog with his father and Martin. It was almost as hard for 
 them to leap over Nathan, since he was so short, as it was for him 
 to leap over them in turn, they were so large and tall ; but they 
 stooped as low as they could, and Nathan generally managed to get 
 over in some sort of fashion. One day they had been playing at the 
 game after supper, and Martin had gone off to feed the horse, while 
 Nathan and the girls sat on the door-step with their father. They 
 could hear the frogs in the distance, for it was a warm summer even- 
 ing, and Nathan suddenly asked, 
 
 " Papa, do frogs ever play leap-frog ? " 
 
 " Well," said he, " I suppose that their leaping is rather serious 
 business for them." 
 
 " Why do you^call it leap-frog ? " asked Phippy. 
 
 " Oh, it makes us look a little like frogs, when we go springing 
 over each other's backs." 
 
 " I wonder who first thought of it," said wise little Nathan, look- 
 ing straight before him. 
 
 " There ! papa can't answer that," said Phippy. 
 
 " Let me see," said he. 
 
 " Oh, make up as you go along, papa," said Lucy, who dearly 
 loved to see her father tell stories, as she said. 
 
 " Well, puss, if you '11 help me, I '11 see if I can tell how leap- 
 frog came about. To begin at the beginning, a frog can remember 
 when he was not a frog, but only a tadpole. You have all seen 
 those little fellows wriggling through the water, trying to get away 
 from 'their tails. By and by their tails disappear and they become
 
 THE FROGS PLAYING THEIR NATIONAL GAME.
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 191 
 
 frogs. What is it, Lucy ? " for she was pulling his head down, so as 
 to whisper in his ear. " That 's a good idea, Lucy. Yes, they leap 
 for joy, when they have stopped being tadpoles. But the fact is, 
 I asked an old frog once about it ; he was a grave-looking old fellow ; 
 with big eyes and a white throat. He threw his head back and 
 looked at me seriously, and said that they had a custom which they 
 had kept as far back as the memory of frog could leap. When a 
 number of tadpoles came of age, that is, became real frogs, the older 
 ones make a circle in a good marshy place by a pond, and the oldest 
 one makes a little speech to the new frogs. Each one has been 
 leaping as high as he could, and seeing which could leap the highest, 
 when the oldest frog reminds them of the one proverb which frogs 
 have. Let me see, what was the proverb, Lucy? " Lucy shut her 
 eyes very hard and tried to think. Then she drew his head down. 
 
 " i Look before you leap,' Lucy says. That was pretty near, but 
 as I heard it, it was, i Be leapt over if you would leap over/ Every 
 frog has to learn to stoop for his neighbor, if he would rise in the 
 world himself; he must help others if he would be helped himself; 
 so all the new frogs form a line reaching down to the pond. They 
 all stoop except the hindmost one, and he begins to leap over the 
 one in front, then over the rest, and so on until he has leaped over 
 the one nearest the edge of the pond, and over him he goes into the 
 water, and after him come the others all in turn, and then they are 
 regular frogs." 
 
 "But how did men find it out?" asked Mrs. Bodley, who had 
 joined them. 
 
 " Oh, some boys once saw it and imitated it, thinking the frogs 
 were in fun, but really you know it was very serious business for 
 them."
 
 192 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " I wonder," said she, " if the little frogs and the big one would 
 not like some tea on the veranda after all their jumping ? " They 
 all exclaimed in delight, for it was only once in a while the mother 
 would set the tea-table out on the little veranda. There it was 
 now, with blackberries and cream, the blackberries from the pasture, 
 and the cream from the cow that Nathan tumbled off, and the chil- 
 dren kept up a great chattering all tea-time, while Neptune lay just 
 outside, until he was sent off down the avenue to get the evening 
 newspaper. It was the last day of vacation. School was to begin 
 on the morrow, so this was a kind of special treat for the children. 
 
 " Papa ! I wish you would shave this evening," said Nathan. " I 
 shall be so busy in the morning." Mr. Bodley laid down his paper 
 and laughed. 
 
 " Don't you like to hear ballads except when I am shaving ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I did n't know as you could tell them at any other time," said 
 Nathan, meekly. You must know that while Nathan was lame, he 
 had a habit of going into his father's dressing-room in the morning, 
 and sitting on a little stool while his father dressed and shaved, 
 and as Mr. Bodley knew a good many ballads by heart, he used to 
 repeat them to Nathan, flourishing his razor sometimes in a delight- 
 fully fierce way, as if it were a sword. Nathan had never heard his 
 father repeat a ballad at any other time, though he had tried to tell 
 them again to Phippy and Lucy, who now begged their father to 
 tell them a ballad. 
 
 " I '11 get your razor," said Nathan, jumping up. " I know where 
 you keep it." 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Bodley. " I '11 tell you a ballad, and my cane 
 will answer just as well." So off Nathan ran for his father's cane, 
 which was to be used if he became very much excited.
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 193 
 
 " What shall it be, Thanny ? " he asked. 
 " Oh, please tell ' The Hunting of the Cheviot/ papa." 
 " Very well, I '11 tell that, and if any of you children don't under- 
 stand a word now and then, never mind, just keep on listening, and 
 you '11 get the story." So he laid aside his newspaper and went 
 back to the old days of England, when there was no such thing as a 
 newspaper, and people sang ballads instead of reading the news. 
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 
 
 The Percy out of Northumberland 
 
 And a vow to God made he, 
 That he would hunt in the mountains 
 
 Of Cheviot within days three, 
 In the maugre of doughty Douglas 
 
 And all that ever with him be. 
 
 The fattest harts in all Cheviot 
 
 He said he would kill and carry them away ; 
 " By my faith," said the doughty Douglas again, 
 " I will let that hunting if I may." 
 
 Then the Percy out of Bamborough came 
 
 With him a mighty meany 
 With fifteen hundred archers bold of blood and bone, 
 
 They were chosen out of shires three. 
 
 This began on a Monday at morn 
 
 In Cheviot the hills so high ; 
 The child may rue that is unborn ; 
 
 It was the more pity. 
 13
 
 194 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 The drivers thorough the woodes went, 
 
 For to raise the deer ; 
 Bowmen bickered upon the bent 
 
 With their broad arrows clear. 
 
 Then the wild thorough the woodes went 
 
 On every side sheer, 
 Greyhounds thorough the greves glent 
 
 For to kill their deer. 
 
 They began in Cheviot the hills above, 
 
 Early on Monanday ; 
 By that it drew to the hour of noon, 
 
 A hundred fat harts dead there lay.
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 
 
 They blew a mort upon the bent, 
 
 They 'sembled on sides sheer ; 
 To the quarry then the Percy went 
 
 To the brittling of the deer. 
 
 He said : " It was the Douglas's promise 
 
 This day to meet me here. 
 But I wist he would fail, verament," 
 
 A great oath the Percy sware. 
 
 At the last a squire of Northumberland 
 Looked at his hand full nigh ; 
 
 195 
 
 He was ware of the doughty Douglas coming, 
 With him a mighty meany.
 
 196 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Both with spear; bill and brand : 
 
 It was a mighty sight to see ; 
 Hardier men, both of heart nor hand, 
 
 Were not in Christianity. 
 
 They were twenty hundred spearmen good, 
 
 Withouten any fail ; 
 They were born along by the water of Tweed, 
 
 I' the bounds of Tivydale. 
 
 " Leave off the brittling the deer," he said, 
 " To your bows look ye take good heed ; 
 For never since ye were on your mothers born 
 Had ye never so mickle need." 
 
 The doughty Douglas on a steed 
 
 He rode at his men beforne ; 
 His armor glittered as a glede ; 
 
 A bolder bairn was never born. 
 
 " Tell me who ye* are," he says, 
 "Or whose men that ye be. 
 
 Who gave you leave to hunt in this Cheviot Chase, 
 In the spite of me ? " 
 
 The first man that ever him an answer made, 
 
 It was the good Lord Percy ; 
 
 " We will not tell thee whose men we are," he says, 
 " Nor whose men that we be ; 
 But we will hunt here in this chase 
 In the spite of thine and of thee. 
 
 " The fattest harts in all Cheviot 
 
 We have killed and cast to carry them away : "
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 197 
 
 " By my troth," said the doughty Douglas again, 
 " Therefore the one of us shall die this day." 
 
 Then said the doughty Douglas 
 
 Unto the Lord Percy : 
 " To kill all these guiltless men, 
 Alas, it were great pity. 
 
 " But Percy, thou art a lord of land, 
 
 I am an earl called within my country, 
 Let all our men upon a party stand 
 And do the battle of thee and of me." 
 
 " Now a curse on his crown," said the Lord Percy, 
 
 " Whoever thereto says nay ; 
 By my troth, doughty Douglas," he says, 
 " Thou shalt never see that day. 
 
 " Neither in England, Scotland nor France 
 
 Nor for no man of a woman born, 
 But, an fortune be my chance, 
 
 I dare meet him, one man for one." 
 
 Then bespake a squire of Northumberland, 
 
 Richard Witherington was his name ; 
 " It shall never be told in South England," he says, 
 "To King Henry the Fourth for shame. 
 
 " I wot ye bin great lordes two 
 
 I am a poor squire of land ; 
 I will never see my captain fight on a field, 
 
 And stand myself and look on, 
 But while I may my weapon wield 
 
 I will not fail both heart and hand."
 
 198 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 That day, that day, that dreadful day ! 
 
 The first fytte here I find, 
 And you will hear any more o' the Hunting o' the Cheviot, 
 
 Yet is there more behind. 
 
 n. 
 
 The Englishmen had their bows ybent 
 
 Their hearts were good enow ; 
 The first of arrows that they shot off, 
 
 Seven score spear men they slew. 
 
 Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent. 
 
 A captain good enow, 
 And that was seen, verament 
 
 For he wrought them both woo and woe. 
 
 The Douglas parted his host in three, 
 
 Like a chief chieftain of pride, 
 With sure spears of mighty tree, 
 
 They came in on every side ; 
 
 Through our English archery 
 
 Gave many a wound full wide ; 
 Many a doughty they gar'd to die 
 
 Which gained them no pride. 
 
 The Englishmen let their bows be 
 
 And pulled out brands that were bright ; 
 
 It was a heavy sight to see 
 
 Bright swords on basnets light. 
 
 Thorough rich mail and maniple 
 
 Many stern they stroke down straight ; 
 
 Many a freke that was full free 
 There under foot did light.
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 199 
 
 At last the Douglas and the Percy met, 
 
 Like to captains of might and of main ; 
 They swapt together till they both sweat, 
 
 With swords that were of fine Milan. 
 
 These worthy frekes for to fight, 
 
 Thereto they were full fain, 
 Till the blood out of their basnets sprent, 
 
 As ever did hail or rain. 
 
 " Hold thee, Percy,'" said .the Douglas, 
 " And i' faith I shall thee bring, 
 Where thou shalt have an earl's wages 
 Of Jamie our Scottish king. 
 
 " Thou shalt have thy ransom free, 
 
 I hight thee here this thing, 
 For the manfullest man yet art thou 
 That ever I conquered in field-fighting." 
 
 "Nay," said the Lord Percy, 
 " I told it thee beforne 
 That I would never yielded be 
 To no man of a woman born." 
 
 With that there came an arrow hastily 
 
 Forth of a mighty wane ; 
 It hath stricken the Earl Douglas 
 
 In at the breast bane. 
 
 Thorough liver and lungs baith 
 
 The sharp arrow is gone 
 That never after in all his live days 
 
 He spake no words but one:
 
 200 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 That was, " Fight ye, my merry men, while ye may, 
 For my life days be gone." 
 
 The Percy leaned on his brand 
 
 And saw the Douglas die. 
 He took the dead man by the hand 
 
 And said, " "Woe is me for thee ! 
 
 To have saved thy life, I would have parted with 
 
 My lands for years three, 
 For a better man of heart nor of hand 
 
 Was not in all the north country."
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 201 
 
 Of all that saw a Scottish knight 
 
 Was called Sir Hugh Montgomery ; 
 He saw the Douglas to the death was dight, 
 
 He spended a spear, a trusty tree : 
 
 He rode upon a courser 
 
 Thorough a hundred archery ; 
 He never stinted, nor never blane, 
 
 Till he came to the good Lord Percy. 
 
 He set upon the Lord Percy 
 
 A dint that was full sore ; 
 With a sure spear of a mighty tree 
 
 Clean through the body he the Percy bore, 
 
 At t' other side that a man might see 
 
 A large cloth-yard and mair; 
 Two better captains were not in Christianity, 
 
 Than that day slain were there. 
 
 An archer of Northumberland 
 
 Saw slain was the Lord Percy ; 
 He bare a bend-bow in his hand 
 
 Was made of trusty tres. 
 
 An arrow that a cloth-yard was long 
 
 To the hard steel haled he ; 
 A dint that was both sad and sore 
 
 He set on Sir Hugh Montgomery. 
 
 The dint it was both sad and sore 
 
 That he on Montgomery set ; 
 The swan feathers that his arrow bore 
 
 With his heart blood they were wet.
 
 202 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 There was never a freke one foot would flee 
 But still in stour did stand, 
 
 Hewing on each other, while they might dree 
 With many a baleful brand. 
 
 This battle began in Cheviot 
 
 An hour before the noon, 
 And when even-song bell was rung 
 
 The battle was not half done. 
 
 They took on either hand 
 
 By the light of the moon ; 
 Many had no strength for to stand 
 
 In Cheviot the hills aboon. 
 
 Of fifteen hundred archers of England 
 Went away but fifty and three ; 
 
 Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland 
 But even five and fiftie. 
 
 But all were slain Cheviot within ; 
 
 They had no strength to stand on high ; 
 The child may rue that is unborn 
 
 It was the more pitie. 
 
 There was slain with the Lord Percy, 
 
 Sir John of Agerstone, 
 Sir Roger, the hynd Hartley, 
 
 Sir William, the bold Heron. 
 
 Sir George, the worthy Lovel, 
 
 A knight of great renown, 
 Sir Ralph, the rich Rugby, 
 
 With dints were beaten down.
 
 THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT. 203 
 
 For Witberingtoii my heart was wo 
 
 That ever he slain should be ; 
 For when both his legs were hewn in two, 
 
 Yet he kneeled and fought on his knee. 
 
 There was slain with the doughty Douglas, 
 
 Sir Hugh Montgomery ; 
 Sir Davy Liddall, that worthy was, 
 
 His sister's son was he. 
 
 Sir Charles o' Murray in that place 
 
 That never a foot would flee ; 
 Sir Hugh Maxwell, a lord he was, 
 
 With the Douglas did he dee. 
 
 So on the morrow they made them biers 
 
 Of birch and hazel so gray ; 
 Many widows with weeping tears 
 
 Came to fetch their mates away. 
 
 Tivydale may carp of care 
 
 Northumberland may make great moan, 
 For two such captains as slain were there, 
 
 On the March-party shail never be none. 
 
 Word has come to Edinborough 
 
 To Jamie the Scottish king, 
 That doughty Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches 
 
 He lay slain Cheviot within. 
 
 His handes did he weal and wring, 
 
 He said, " Alas ! and wo is me ! 
 Such an other captain Scotland within," 
 
 He said, " i' faith should never be."
 
 204 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Word is come to lovely London 
 To the fourth Harry our king, 
 
 That Lord Percy, lieutenant of the Marches, 
 He lay slain, Cheviot within. 
 
 " God have mercy on his soul," said King Harry, 
 " Good Lord if thy will it be ! 
 I have a hundred captains in England," he said, 
 " As good as ever was he. 
 But Percy, as I brook my life, 
 Thy death well quit shall be." 
 
 As cur noble king made his avow, 
 
 Like a noble prince of renown, 
 For the death of the Lord Percy 
 He did the battle of Homildown; 
 
 Where six and thirty Scottish knights 
 On a day were beaten down ; 
 
 Glendale glittered on their armor bright, 
 Over castle, tower and town. 
 
 This was the Hunting of the Cheviot 
 
 That tear began this spurn : 
 Old men that know the ground weel enow 
 
 Call it the battle of Otterbourn. 
 
 At Otterbourn began this spurn 
 
 Upon a Monanday ; 
 There was the doughty Douglas slain, 
 
 The Percy never went away. 
 
 There was never a time on the March parties 
 Since the Douglas and Percy met,
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 205 
 
 But it was marvel, and the red blood ran not 
 As tha rain does in the street. 
 
 And now may Heaven amend us all 
 
 And to the bliss us bring. 
 Thus was the Hunting of the Cheviot. 
 God send us all good ending. 
 
 Just as the ballad was ended Nep set up .a prodigious howl. No- 
 body could discover what it was for, but they all agreed that he 
 must have listened to the story and so given vent to his feelings. 
 
 " It was a great battle," said Nathan, sagely. 
 
 " The English got the best of it," said Phippy. 
 
 " Yes," said her father, " the ballad was written I suppose by an 
 Englishman, but he was a generous man for all that, as Lord Percy 
 was generous. He could n't help letting the English get the better 
 of the Scotch, but he made the Scotch out to be very brave. What 
 do you think, Lucy ? " 
 
 "'Alas! and wo is me,'" said little Lucy, whereupon they all 
 laughed merrily, for they knew Lucy did not like dreadful stories, 
 but this happened so long ago that she could listen without feeling 
 very badly. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 
 
 THE roses on the pig-pen fence had all dropped their leaves, but 
 the pig behind grew more rosy and fat as the autumn came on. 
 Nathan never forgot to feed him now : on the contrary, he seemed 
 always to be feeding him. As soon as he was up in the morning,
 
 206 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 he was bound for the pig-sty, hurrying along with the pig's break- 
 fast, as if the poor animal had been living all night on half rations; 
 and as soon as school was over, Nathan was again on hand with corn 
 husks, and apples, and pea-pods, or whatever other dainty he could 
 find. He would stuff them into the trough, and then stand, with 
 his hands behind his back, and watch the pig with a serious air, and 
 wonder and wonder how many pounds he would weigh, and how 
 soon he would be fat enough to kill, and how many cents a pound 
 he should get, and what he should do with the money. 
 
 The pig was Nathan's own. He had bought him with his own 
 money. Martin had brought him home from Cam ton market, and 
 after being duly invited into roomy quarters, which the last occu- 
 pant had left, never to re-enter, at least not in his old shape, Nathan 
 watched his career through the summer with increasing interest, as 
 the days grew shorter, and the pig's chin grew longer 
 
 The pig's extra fare was apples, good, wormy apples ; worms 
 in apples are spice to a pig, and with these he was kept well sup- 
 plied by his little master. Moreover, Nathan had the pleasure of 
 making the apples turn -an honest penny on their way to the pig. 
 Some trees in the orchard shed a good many apples that were not 
 ripe, and were, moreover, a sourish, hard apple.; these fell on the 
 ground, and were regarded by the worms and ants as food sent 
 down from the .sky for their special benefit. So they went hard to 
 work, thousands of them, and had a busy time harvesting. But one 
 day, Mr. Bodley, walking through tha orchard with Nathan, saw the 
 apples spread over the ground, and said, " Nathan, I don't like to 
 see these apples here. Now, I will give you five cents a bushel for 
 all you will gather." 
 
 " But what shall I do with the apples ? "
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 207 
 
 " Oh, give them to the pig." 
 
 " Why, so I can," said Nathan ; and in five minutes he was there 
 with a wheelbarrow, and Phippy and Lucy were helping him load, 
 though indeed the little girls were so particular as to what apples 
 they touched, that I don't think they helped very much ; and not 
 even the one cent a bushel which Nathan promised each, could 
 make them work very hard at picking up small, worm-eaten apples. 
 
 At first Nathan used to tip the apples into the pig-pen, and let the 
 pig nose them over, and find the wormiest ; but a good many were 
 wasted in that way; and one day, as he stood watching the pig, 
 after having carted three wheelbarrowfuls, a sudden thought struck 
 him. 
 
 " Hi ! " said he ; and snatching up the wheelbarrow, he raced off* 
 to the house, where his mother was churning. 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried. " Mother ! I 've got a splendid idea about 
 the pig." 
 
 " Dear me ! it seems to me you have enough ideas about the pig 
 already. What is it ? Do you want a looking-glass, so that he can 
 enjoy himself as much as you enjoy him ? " 
 
 " Now, mother ! A looking-glass ! why, he 'd break it all to smash. 
 No. I '11 tell you what. I '11 boil them. I '11 make a bonfire, and 
 take the big kettle and boil them, and make the pig some apple- 
 sauce. May I ? " 
 
 " Oh, the apples." 
 
 " Oh, no. I '11 tell you. I '11 take the boiler where you boil the 
 clothes. No I won't, either. I '11 make a bonfire. That '11 be 
 better." 
 
 At this moment Phippy and Lucy came by, and Nathan told them 
 eagerly what his plan was.
 
 208 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 4 
 
 " But I 'm afraid it won't do for you," he said, looking solemn. 
 " You '11 catch fire. I saw something in the newspaper the other 
 day about it." 
 
 " Oh, pooh ! " said Phippy. " I shan't catch fire. I '11 take a 
 long stick and poke it. Oh, it '11 be splendid ! just like the gypsies. 
 We '11 have a couple of fork sticks, you know how, and a piece 
 across, and a pot-hook, and we '11 take our dolls and play they are 
 babies we 've stolen ; and we '11 tell fortunes " 
 
 " Well, well," said Mrs. Bodley, " but I don't know about letting 
 
 you " 
 
 " mother ! " cried the three in chorus. 
 
 " What is Martin doing ? " 
 
 " He is out in the barn, chopping hay." 
 
 " Well, ask him to come here a minute." 
 
 When Martin came, Mrs. Bodley asked him if he would help the 
 children make the fire, and see that they got into no mischief; and 
 that very afternoon, a cool September day, the children gathered 
 some brushwood and leaves, and Martin helped them make a gypsy 
 camp. 
 
 " I tell you this makes me think of the time I used to have when 
 I was a boy," said Martin, as they tumbled the apples into the great 
 kettle. 
 
 " Did you boil apples for your bear ? " asked Nathan, who had a 
 long stick and was stirring the apples. 
 
 " You mean the bear Hen trapped ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Nathan," the little one." 
 
 "No, I don't know as we ever boiled any apples for him. We 
 used to give him blueberries and milk. He was mighty fond of 
 berries. We taught him to dance by giving him berries."
 
 A DANCE FOR A SUPPER.
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 211 
 
 " Did you really ? " asked Phippy. " Were they hot ? " 
 
 " Hot ? no ; what made you ask ? " 
 
 " Oh, I thought that was what made him dance." Martin chuck- 
 led. 
 
 " You 're a queer one, Phippy. No, we used to give him- berries 
 to pay him for dancing, and he knew just as well what they were 
 for as anything. If he danced, he 'd have berries ; see ? We used 
 to get round after supper and put him on his kennel, and then Hen, 
 he would twitch the chain and whistle to him, and Sis, she 'd hold 
 out the spoon with berries, and then he 'd dance." 
 
 " What became of him ? " asked Phippy. 
 
 " Oh, he broke his chain one night and ran off into the woods. I 
 guess he liked that better." 
 
 The children stewed a famous mess of apples and whatever other 
 fruit they could lay hold of, and stirred it and stirred it, till they 
 were hot as mustard, and then marched off to give it to the pig, 
 piping hot as it was, though they had to save a good deal, and give 
 it cool another time ; but it was put into the trough, and the pig 
 ate it and grunted over it, as if he were complaining because he had 
 to eat his apple-sauce without bread and butter, or roast goose. 
 
 Now, one day, as September came to an end, Nathan and the 
 other children were very much surprised at seeing their father walk 
 up the avenue as early as one o'clock. He never used to come be- 
 fore half-past five, for he was in business in the city, and could not 
 come away earlier. They ran up to him joyfully, but he said so 
 little, and looked so grave, that they were a little frightened, and 
 held back ; but when he had gone into the house, they forgot it, and 
 went back to their play. Before long, however, their mother came 
 to the door and called them in. They remembered then how their
 
 212 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 father looked, and seeing their mother also looking quiet, they 
 hardly knew what to say or do, but followed shyly into the parlor, 
 where Mr. Bodley was walking uneasily up and down. 
 
 Nathan, being the oldest, and intending, of course, to be a man 
 before long, spoke up very solemnly, " Papa, is Uncle Daniel 
 dead ? " Uncle Daniel being daily expected, though never having 
 been seen by the children. To his surprise, Mr. Bodley stopped 
 and laughed, and then checked himself, sat down on the sofa by his. 
 wife, and called the children to him. 
 
 " No, Thanny," said he, " though I don't wonder you asked me. 
 I will tell you a little what the trouble is, though you can't under- 
 stand it all. It is very hard for merchants to get along now, and I 
 have lost a great deal of money, so much, that I have been obliged 
 to stop business for a time, and I am afraid we may have to leave 
 our beautiful home." 
 
 The children were too much surprised to cry. Leave Roseland ! 
 why, how could they ? they had n't been there a year. 
 
 " So you must be careful," said Mrs. Bodley, " and not tear your 
 clothes. Now run out again and play." 
 
 " Sarah ! " said Mr. Bodley, when they were gone, bursting into 
 a laugh, " what could you mean ? The poor children won't see any 
 connection between my suspension and their clothes." 
 
 " Yes, they will. They will think about it ; and if they don't 
 understand, they will ask me. What you want of them is, not that 
 they should cry very much, or expect to take your clerks' places, but 
 to show their affection in their own way, and learn that even their 
 little helps." 
 
 The children went out, looking very serious, and with their eyes 
 considerably larger than when they came in.
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 213 
 
 " Nathan ! " said Phippy, " it 's awful. You don't know, but I 
 read about it in a story the other clay. Father '11 have to go to 
 jail, and stay till he 's paid every cent, and mother '11 go there to 
 see him, and take us, and we 're so small, that the jailer will feel 
 bad, and let him out. We '11 carry him bread and cake." 
 
 " He does n't like cake : he never eats it," sobbed Lucy, who 
 had been keeping in before. 
 
 " Never mind, Lucy," said Phippy, giving up her notion at once. 
 " I don't much believe he '11 have to go. I know he won't, because 
 this happened ever so long ago, in another country. They don't do 
 so in America. I know what I 'm going to do. Come Lucy. I 've 
 got a secret ; let's go into the orchard." 
 
 " Let me hear, too," said Nathan. 
 
 " No, it's a girl's secret." 
 
 " Well, I 've got a secret, too. I Ve been thinking about some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Will you tell me yours, if I '11 tell you mine ? " asked Phippy, 
 who loved other people's secrets even more than she did her own. 
 
 " I 'm going to. pick up apples," said Nathan. ^ 
 
 " Hoh ! " said Philippa, " a great secret, that ! " but Nathan had 
 already started for his wheelbarrow. Two little heads in sugar- 
 scoop bonnets were soon nodding wisely to each other, as Phippy 
 and Lucy walked off toward the orchard. 
 
 " And I '11 make lamplighters," were Lucy's last words, as they 
 got out of hearing. " I can make them beautiful." 
 
 Nathan trundling his wheelbarrow to the familiar field, moved 
 
 ~ 
 
 rather slowly. His busy head was fuller than usual, but he worked 
 with his hands even harder, and looked round with disappointment, 
 as he saw at last that there were no more apples to pick up. He
 
 214 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 watched the pig crunch the cold, hard apples, for he did not boil 
 these, and then he walked into the house with his hands behind him, 
 thinking, and counting on his fingers. 
 
 September closed, and October went by, and it was drawing 
 toward Thanksgiving time. The pumpkins were ripening for pies, 
 
 and one night Nathan came home with an exciting story of how he 
 had seen what he called a Which in the field, and how he ran away, 
 and the Which chased him, and then it turned out to be a boy he 
 knew with another boy, and they had cut a Jack-o'-lantern out of
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 215 
 
 a pumpkin ; so nothing must do but Martin must make a Jack-o'- 
 lantern for Nathan, also, and he had a fine time with it, chasing Nep, 
 who barked furiously. Lucy knew what it was, but she could not 
 help being a little frightened herself. Mr. Bodley had not yet been 
 obliged to leave Roseland. They had talked it over, and looked at 
 smaller houses near by ; but as he owned the place, and could not 
 easily find any one to. let it to, he determined at length that he 
 could live there more economically than if he were to move. Still 
 he spent as little money as possible, and the children sometimes had 
 to give up what they had been counting on. 
 
 " If Nathan were older, I think I should try to do without Mar- 
 tin," said Mr. Bodley. 
 
 " Try me," said Nathan, eagerly ; but his father only pulled his 
 ear, and laughed. The day came at length when the pig was to be 
 killed. He had been stuffed so long, and had grown so fat, that he 
 was the wonder of the neighborhood, and every one was guessing 
 how much the Bodleys' pig would weigh. Nathan strutted about 
 very grandly, whenever the pig was talked of, and yet every once 
 in a while he would look uneasy, and become very sober. He fed 
 him most assiduously the last two or three days of his life, and was 
 once caught carrying out stealthily his own tumbler of milk, for he 
 had overhead some one saying that there was nothing so fattening 
 to a pig as good, fresh milk. 
 
 " I don't know but you and the pig will change places some day, 
 Nathan," said his mother, just like Picture Bob and his Wonderful 
 Cob." 
 
 " What was that ? " 
 
 " Did you never hear ? Did I never tell you the story of Picture 
 Bob and his Wonderful Cob ? "
 
 216 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Why, no," said Nathan, as his mother looked surprised. 
 
 " Then I must tell it to you right away," said she. " Put down 
 your tumbler and listen to my serious story." And all the children 
 sat very still as their mother told the story of 
 
 PICTURE BOB AND HIS WONDERFUL COB. 
 
 Suppose you have 
 
 A picture book, 
 Turning its pages o 'er, 
 
 And at this page 
 
 Some pictures find, 
 You never found before. 
 
 Suppose it tells you 
 
 Of a boy ; 
 Suppose his name was Bob; 
 
 Suppose he ate 
 
 An ear of corn, 
 As big as Picture Cob.
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 
 
 S'pose, then, that Bob 
 Had said to Cob, 
 " Come, stand up, if you can, 
 And wear my little 
 Hat and coat, 
 And be a soldier-man." 
 
 217 
 
 S'pose, then, that Cob 
 Had said to Bob, 
 " You be an ear of corn, 
 And I will wear 
 Your hat and coat, 
 And toot your little horn." 
 
 Suppose that Cob 
 
 Began to march, 
 And loud the horn to blow ; 
 
 Suppose that Bob 
 
 Went fast asleep, 
 And ear of corn to grow. 
 
 Suppose that Cobby 
 Grew so fine, 
 And Bobby grew so fast,
 
 218 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BOD LEY F AM I LI. 
 
 That Cobby thought, 
 " He ate me first, 
 I'll eat him up, at last." 
 
 And so, suppose 
 He made a charge, 
 
 As if a field of corn 
 Each leaf become 
 A two-edged sword, 
 
 Each ear, a battle-horn -
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 
 
 And, fierce and fast, 
 
 Went at poor Bob, 
 Intent to pierce him through ; 
 
 Suppose that Bobby 
 
 Knew all this, 
 But knew not what to do. 
 
 And now suppose 
 
 That, all at once, 
 
 From out of Bobby's head 
 
 219 
 
 ft 
 
 Our flag of Stripes, 
 Our flag of Stars, 
 Had sprung right up, and said: 
 
 "Take care, take care, 
 
 You little scamp ! 
 You 're nothing but a cob,
 
 220 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 "With soldier-clothes 
 And tooting horn ; 
 Touch not my soldier Bob!" 
 
 Then what if Cob, 
 
 And what if Bob, 
 And what if Flag, and all, 
 
 Had had a grand 
 
 Engagement there, 
 The country to appall. 
 
 And you, suppose 
 
 You hasten on, 
 T*ae dreadful end to see, 
 
 And find yourself 
 
 A little Cob, 
 To think such things could be ! 
 
 " Well," said Nathan, " I 've often dreamed about my pig, but 1 
 never dreamed I was pig, and pig was I." 
 
 When the day came for the pig to be killed, Nathan was in a 
 tumult of excitement. The pig was to be killed on the premises, 
 and not sent to the butcher's. The hot water was all ready in tubs,.
 
 NATHAN'S PIG. 221 
 
 and Nathan was constantly trying it, to see if he could bear his hand 
 in it. He would not see the final act, though he heard the distant 
 wail, but after a while got up courage to go out to the barn and 
 see the bristles taken off, and all the rest of the long performance. 
 Ehilippa peeked round the corner once, and immediately ran away, 
 and Lucy would not stir out of the house. 
 
 "It's awful, Lucy," was Phippy's report. "He's stretched out 
 stiff, as if he was gasping. Don't you go near him." 
 
 " Well, Nathan," said his father, in the evening, " so the pig 's 
 killed. How much does he weigh ? " 
 
 " He weighs three hundred and thirty-seven pounds, sir," said 
 Nathan proudly. " Martin says he 's the biggest pig round." 
 
 " How big round ? " asked Mr. Bodley, laughing ; but Nathan 
 said he had not measured." 
 
 " Let me see : how much is pork a pound ? " 
 
 "I don't know," said Nathan, hastily, and he jumped down from 
 his father's knee, and ran out of the room. He opened the door 
 again, and put his head in. 
 
 " Twenty-one cents, sir," he said ; and off he went, not to come 
 back till tea time. 
 
 It was Thanksgiving Day shortly after this, but for once there 
 was no one at the Bodleys' except their own family. Just before 
 dinner, Nathan slipped into the dining-room very cautiously, and 
 was out again in a moment, and then he began tumbling about the 
 room where the rest were, playing with Nep, the dog, and making 
 a great deal of noise, every once in a while eying his father in a 
 half frightened manner. They went in to dinner. Nathan went 
 last, and then rushed past them all, sat down in his chair, and 
 began eating his bread and drinking water so fast, that Mrs. Bod- 
 ley discovered him.
 
 222 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Why, Nathan ! " said she. " What a very hungry little boy. I 
 think you can wait till the blessing is asked." 
 
 There was silence while Mr. Bodley, who was thinking just then 
 of how even his losses in business had not been without their bless- 
 ing, gave thanks to God for all His benefits, and for this yearly 
 festival. Then he began to carve the turkey. 
 
 "Hullo, what's this?" said he, as he lifted the plate before him, 
 and discovered an envelope. At this moment, Nathan, who had 
 been very red in the face, burst into tears, and cried, " The pig \ 
 the pig ! " and rushed hotly out of the room. Mr. Bodley opened 
 the envelope. It had a letter in it ; and as he read it aloud, he had 
 to yes, he had to blow his nose once or twice, and clear his voice* 
 This was what he read : 
 
 " DEAR FATHER, The pig is yours. You said you would buy 
 him of me, but you suspended, and I want you to have the pig I 
 am a little boy, and I can't do much. I wish you would let me be 
 man instead of Martin. The pig weighs 337 pounds. I hope you 
 won't have to leave Roseland. 
 
 " Your affectionate son, 
 
 " NATHAN BODLEY." 
 
 " Where is Nathan ? " asked Mr. Bodley. " Call him, Phippy." 
 " He 's behind the door, he won't come in. He 's crying like 
 everything," said the little messenger. 
 
 Mr. Bodley got up from the table, and with his wife went out to 
 Nathan, who had done crying now, and began to laugh when his 
 father kissed him, and passed his hand through his hair, and brought 
 him back into the dining-room. It was a merry dinner that they 
 had then, and a happy family that they were in the evening, as
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 223 
 
 they sat round the fire, playing games and telling stories. I dare 
 say the father and mother had many thanks to give that night when 
 they went to bed thanks that God was teaching their little boy 
 so early, that it is more blessed to give than to receive. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 
 
 FROM Thanksgiving to Christmas is not a great distance, but it is 
 very apt to be full of pleasant doings. We eat our Thanksgiving 
 dinner and step out plump nnd comfortable, ready for the cold and 
 the frolic, and the merry times that lie before us in the dark month 
 of December. To the Bodley children it was a new thing to be out 
 of town in the winter time. They were not so far from the city but 
 they sometimes went in to see their friends, or to go to the shops 
 and entertainments, but after all they liked best their sport out of 
 doors on their own place. There they could frolic to their heart's 
 content. They all had their sleds, and one night even, their father 
 took them all to May's pond after supper and let them slide on the 
 ice a little while, and watch the skaters by moonlight. Martin was 
 there with his hockey-stick, and once he gathered all the ropes of 
 the children's sleds into his hand, and away he spun down the pond, 
 dragging them after him. 
 
 But the best fun they had once when there had been an unusual 
 thaw, with a freezing time afterward which left a hard, icy crust upon 
 the snow. Martin took the body of an old sleigh, which was coming 
 to pieces, removed the shafts and the side-pieces, and so made a gi-
 
 224 
 
 DOINGS OF THE RODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 gantic sled, upon whioh they had famous times coasting down the 
 slope of the Hollow. It almost took their breath away, as Martin 
 steered the great sled and brought it with a sweep alongside the 
 fence by the pasture. Their mother used to coast with them, but 
 Mr. Bodley had gone off on a journey. As Christmas drew near the 
 children began to be very much afraid that he would not be back in 
 
 Moonlight on the Pond. 
 
 time to enjoy it with them, and even Mrs. Bodley became a little 
 worried, for she was daily expecting him. Snow had been falling 
 without interruption for three days, and the roads all about Rose- 
 land were blocked with snow. Ox-teams drove along by the side 
 to clear a passage for foot travelers, and as the sun gradually came 
 out of the clouds, the glittering snow, and the jingling sleigh-bells
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 225 
 
 made the children wild with delight. They had with them Cousin 
 Ned, who was making them a visit, and he was a strong young fel- 
 low, so that they had grand fun upon their sleds. Skating was over 
 for the present, for the pond was covered with snow ; but they wore 
 a coast into the Hollow, and as there were no lessons and no school,, 
 the children were coasting pretty much all the time. 
 
 It was the day before Christmas, and still Mr. Bodley had not 
 come. The newspapers were full of the great storm, and how it 
 had blocked the railroads, and made it impossible for people to get 
 about. Mrs. Bodley read some of the accounts aloud, and the chil- 
 dren grew very much excited. 
 
 " I suppose papa is buried in a snow-drift," said Phippy. " If 
 Nep was only near he would go out with a bottle round his neck 
 and find him." 
 
 " Will he have to live on roots and berries, mama ? " asked 
 Lucy, looking serious. 
 
 " Berry pie is n't bad," said Cousin Ned. " Berry pie and snow- 
 sauce," and he smacked his lips. " I wish I was with Uncle Charles, 
 eating berry pie and snow-sauce." 
 
 " Well, any way, he '11 keep warm," said Nathan, " because 
 there 's the engine, that 's very hot." 
 
 " Yes," said Cousin Ned, " and only think what good hot shaving 
 water he will have." 
 
 " I just wish he was here now," said Nathan, " shaving, and tell- 
 ing me a ballad." Scarcely had Nathan said this, before there was 
 a ring at the door. The children rushed out into the entry, just in 
 time to see their father come in, with his bag and ever so many 
 bundles, just as if he had only come from town. Then there was a 
 hurrah and a scrambling, and Mr, Bodley staggered up-stairs to 
 
 15
 
 226 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 dress, with one little girl on each shoulder, and Nathan about his 
 neck. Mrs. Bodley and Cousin Ned took the opportunity to smuggle 
 the mysterious parcels out of the way. 
 
 When Mr. Bodley came down-stairs, tea was ready, and he had 
 
 to tell all his advent- 
 ures, and why he was 
 so long coming home. 
 He had been delayed 
 by the storm, because 
 the trains could not 
 get through, and in 
 one case the engine 
 on his own train had 
 broken down. 
 
 " I waited a good 
 while," he said, " aft- 
 er the train stopped, 
 before I got out to 
 see what was the mat- 
 ter. It was snowing 
 hard, and men with 
 shovels had been 
 shoveling the snow 
 away from about the 
 wheels. I could see 
 a man with a lantern 
 poking about under the engine, and hear the ringing of a hammer 
 upon the iron. The engine had met with some accident, which made 
 it impossible for it to drag the train., and there we waited all night, 
 
 Tired out.
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 227 
 
 until men could make their way to the next town and bring back a 
 new locomotive. We found wood near by and kept the fires burn- 
 ing in the stoves, but we were very hungry. There was no house 
 near by, but finally somebody discovered a keg of oysters in the bag- 
 gage car, and somehow or other those oysters got cooked, and we 
 had some oyster stews in tumblers and cups, and anything we could 
 lay hold of." 
 
 The children lay down that night very happy that their father 
 had come home safely, and very full of expectation of the morrow. 
 They were awake by day-break Christmas morning. Lucy and 
 Phippy slept side f by side, in two little beds, and Phippy was the 
 first to wake. 
 
 " Lucy," said she, pulling her sister's arm, " Merry Christmas ! 
 hush, don't you speak. Let 's look in our stockings. I suppose 
 papa came home too late to get anything. I feel something square 
 and hard. I guess it 's a book." 
 
 "I can't see what this is," said Lucy, who was busy on her side. 
 " There 's candy, I know, but here 's something else ; it feels like a 
 book, but not exactly. I think it must be a drawing-book." 
 
 " Phippy ! Lucy ! a Merry Christmas ! " came in a loud whisper, 
 and Nathan came running acrosj the floor in his night-gown. " See ! 
 a pair of skates ! " and he had darted off again. 
 
 " I say ! " 
 
 " Who was that, Phippy," asked Lucy. 
 
 " I say ! " The voice came in a tremendous whisper. Then 
 Cousin Ned popped his head in at the door. " Merry Christmas ! " 
 said he, and was off again. Phippy and Lucy jumped up and ran 
 into their father and mother's room. They found them fast asleep. 
 
 " Don't let 's disturb them," said Phippy in a very loud whisper. 
 
 "No, I would n't," said Lucy. " I 'd just kiss them, and wish them
 
 228 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Merry Christmas." But, as in the story of the Sleeping Princess, 
 no sooner had the kisses been given, ever so lightly, than the lit- 
 tle rogues were held fast, and there was no more sleep for any one 
 in the house after that. 
 
 The presents were all carried down-stairs and spread on the break- 
 fast table, and Cousin Ned asked Nathan if he would give him a slice 
 of broiled skates, and Lucy came every little while to Cousin Ned 
 and sat by him and held his hand, for she had found out what was 
 in her stocking, and that he had put it there. It was a little story, 
 which he had written all himself for his little cousin, and had made 
 a red border round each page, and put a cover on the book, and 
 tied it with blue ribbons, so that it was almost like a real book, Lucy 
 said, but prettier. 
 
 Phippy's book was a book of ballads, and in it she found the 
 Hunting of the Cheviot, and a good many others of which she had 
 never heard. As soon as breakfast was over she had sat right down 
 in her little chair and begun to read one of them, and while she is 
 reading it, we will just peep over her shoulder and read with her. 
 
 THE BALLAD OF THE HEIR OF LINNE. 
 
 Lithe and listen, gentlemen, 
 To sing a song I will began ; 
 
 It is of a lord of fair Scotland, 
 
 Which was the unthrifty heir of Linne. 
 
 His father was a right good lord, 
 His mother a lady of high degree ; 
 
 But they, alas ! were dead him frae, 
 And he loved keeping companie.
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 229 
 
 To spend the day with merry cheer, 
 
 To drink and revel every night, 
 To card and dice from eve. to morn, 
 
 It was, I ween, his heart's delight. 
 
 To ride, to run, to rant, to roar, 
 
 To always spend and never spare ; 
 I wot, an' it were the king himself 
 
 Of gold and fee he mote be bare. 
 
 So fares the unthrifty Lord of Linne 
 
 Till all his gold is gone and spent ; 
 And he maun sell his lands so broad, 
 
 His house, and lauds, and all his rent. 
 
 His father had a keen steward, 
 
 And John o' the Scales was called he; 
 But John is become a gentel-man, 
 
 And John has got both gold and fee. 
 
 Says, " Welcome, welcome, Lord of Linne, 
 
 Let nought disturb thy merry cheer ; 
 If thou wilt sell thy lands so broad, 
 
 Good store of gold I '11 give thee here." 
 
 "My gold is gone, my money is spent; 
 
 My land now take it unto thee: 
 Give me thy gold, good John o' the Scales, 
 And thine for aye my land shall be." 
 
 Then John he did him to record draw, 
 
 And John he cast him a gods-pennie ; l 
 But for every pound that John agreed, 
 
 The land, I wis, was well worth three. 
 1 Gods-pennie, earnest money, i. e. part of the price paid in advance to bind the contract.
 
 230 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY, 
 
 He told him the gold upon the board, 
 He was right glad his laud to win ; 
 
 The gold is thine, the land is mine, 
 And now I '11 be the Lord of Linne." 
 
 Thus he hath sold his land so broad, 
 Both hill and holt, and moor and fen, 
 
 All but a poor and lonesome lodge, 
 That stood far off in a lonely glen. 
 
 For so he to his father hight: 1 
 " My son, when I am gone," said he, 
 "Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad, 
 And thou wilt spend thy gold so free. 
 1 Hiyht, promised.
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 231 
 
 " But swear me now upon the rood, 1 
 
 That lonesome lodge thou 'It never spend ; 
 For when all the world doth frowfi on thee, 
 Thou there shalt find a faithful friend." 
 
 The heir of Linne is full of gold : 
 "And come with me, my friends," said he, 
 " Let 's drink, and rant, and merry make, 
 
 And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee." 2 
 
 They ranted, drank, and merry made, 
 
 Till all his gold it waxed thin ; 
 And then his friends they slunk away ; 
 
 They left the unthrifty heir of Linne.. 
 
 He had never a penny left in his purse, 
 
 Never a penny left but three, 
 And one was brass, another was lead, 
 
 And another it was white money. 
 
 'Now well-a-day," said the heir of Linne, 
 " Now well-a-day, and woe is me, 
 For when I was the Lord of Linne, 
 I never wanted gold nor fee. 
 
 " But many a trusty friend have I, 
 
 And why should I feel dole or care ? 
 I '11 borrow of them all by turns, 
 So need I not be never bare." 
 
 But one, I wis, was not at home ; 
 
 Another had paid his gold away; 
 Another called him thriftless loon, 
 
 And bade him sharply wend his way. 
 1 Rood, cross. 2 Thee, thrive.
 
 232 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Now well-a-day," said the heir of Linne, 
 " Now well-a-day and woe is me ; 
 For when I had my lauds so broad, 
 On me they lived right merrilee. 
 
 " To beg my bread from door to door, 
 I wis, it were a brenning J shame ; 
 To rob and steal it were a sin ; 
 
 To work, my limbs I cannot frame. 
 
 " Now I '11 away to the lonesome lodge, 
 For there my father bade me wend : 
 When all the world should frown on me, 
 I there should find a trusty friend." 
 
 n. 
 
 Away then hied the heir of Liune, 
 
 O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen, 
 Until he came to the lonesome lod^e 
 
 O 
 
 That stood so low in a lonely glen. 
 He looked up, he looked down, 
 
 ^ 
 
 In hope some comfort for to win ; 
 But bare and lothly were the walls : 
 " Here 's sorry cheer," quo' the heir of Linne. 
 
 The little window, dim and dark, 
 
 Was hung with ivy, brere, and yew ; 
 
 No shimmering sun here ever shone, 
 No halesome breeze here ever blew. 
 
 No chair, ne table, he mote spy, 
 
 No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed ; 
 1 Brenning, burning.
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS, 
 
 Nought save a rope with renning noose, 
 That dangling hung up o'er his head. 
 
 And over it in broad letters, 
 
 These words were written so plain to ee : 
 " Ah ! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all, 
 And brought thyself to penurie ? 
 
 233 
 
 " All this my boding mind misgave, 
 
 I therefore left this trusty friend ; 
 Let it now shield thy foul disgrace, 
 And all thy shame and sorrows end.' 
 
 Sorely shent l wi' this rebuke, 
 
 Sorely shent was the heir of Linne ; 
 1 Shent, shamed.
 
 234 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 His heart, I wis, was near to-brast 
 
 With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin. 
 
 Never a word spake the heir of Linne, 
 
 Never a word spake he but three ; 
 " This is a trusty friend indeed, 
 And is right welcome unto me." 
 
 Then round his neck the cord he drew, 
 And sprang aloft with his bodie, 
 
 When lo ! the ceiling burst in twain. 
 And to the ground came tumbling he. 
 
 Astonyed lay the heir of Linne, 
 Ne knew if he were live or dead ; 
 
 At length he looked, and saw a bill, 
 And in it a key of gold so red. 
 
 He took the bill, and lookt it on, 
 Strait good comfort found he there : 
 
 It told him of a hole in the wall, 
 
 In which there stood three chests in-fere. 1 
 
 Two were full of the beaten gold, 
 The third was full of white moi.ey ; 
 
 And over them in broad letters 
 
 These words were written so plain to see 
 
 " Once more, my son, I set thee clear ; 
 
 Amend thy life and follies past ; 
 For but thou amend thee of thy life, 
 That rope must be thy end at last" 
 
 1 In-fere, together.
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 235 
 
 " And let it be," said the heir of Linne, 
 " And let it be, but if I amend : 
 For here I will make mine avow, 
 
 This reade * shall guide me to the end.'* 
 
 M 
 
 Away then went with a merry cheer, 
 
 Away then went the heir of Linne ; 
 I wis, he neither ceased ne blanne, 2 
 
 Till John o' the Scales' house he did win. 
 
 And when he came to John o' the Scales, 
 
 Up at the speer then looked he ; 
 There sat three lords upon a row, 
 
 Were drinking of the wine so free. 
 
 And John himself sat at the board-head, 
 Because now Lord of Linne was he ; 
 " I pray thee," he said, " good John o' the Scales, 
 One forty pence for to lend me." 
 
 " Away, away, thou thriftless loon ; 
 Away, away, this may not be ; 
 For a curse on my head," he said, 
 " If ever I trust thee one peunie." 
 
 Then bespake the heir of Linne, 
 
 To John o' the Scales' wife then spake he: 
 " Madame, some alms on me bestow, 
 I pray for sweet Saint Charitie." 
 
 " Away, away, thou thriftless loon ; 
 
 I swear thou gettest no alms of me ; 
 For if we should hang any losel here, 
 
 The first we would begin with thee." 
 1 Reade, advice. a Blanne, stopped.
 
 236 
 
 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 Then bespake a good fellow, 
 
 Which sat at John o' the -Scales his board ; 
 Said, " Turn again, thou heir of Linne ; 
 
 Some time thou wast a well good lord. 
 
 " Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 
 
 And sparedst not thy gold and fee ; 
 Therefore I '11 lend thee forty pence, 
 And other forty if need be. 
 
 " And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales, 
 
 To let him sit in thy companie ; 
 For well I wot thou hadst his land, 
 And a good bargain it was to thee."
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 237 
 
 Up then spake him John o' the Scales, 
 
 All wood l he answered him again : 
 "Now a curse on my head," he said, 
 " But I did lose by that bargain. 
 
 " And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne, 
 
 Before these lords so fair and free, 
 Thou shalt have it back again better cheap 
 By a hundred marks than I had it of thee. 
 
 " I draw you to record, lords," he said ; 
 
 With that he cast him a gods-pennie : 
 "No^ by my fay," said the heir of Linue, 
 "And here, good John, is thy money." 
 
 And he pulled forth three bags of gold, 
 
 And laid them down upon the board ; 
 All woe begone was John o' the Scales, 
 
 So shent he could say never a word. 
 
 He told him forth the good red gold, 
 He told it forth with mickle din ; 
 " The gold is thine, the land is mine, 
 
 And now I'm again the Lord of Linne." 
 
 Says, " Have thou here, thou good fellow, 
 
 Forty pence thou didst lend me : 
 Now I am again the Lord of Linne, 
 
 And forty pounds I will give thee. 
 
 
 
 " I '11 make thee keeper of my forest, 
 
 Both of the wild deer and the tame ; 
 For but I reward thy bounteous heart, 
 I wis, good fellow, I were to blame." 
 1 Wood, frantic.
 
 238 DOINGS OF THE BOD LEY FAMILY, 
 
 " Now well-a-day ! " saith Joan o' the Scales ; 
 " Now well-a-day, and woe is my life ! 
 Yesterday I was Lady of Linne, 
 
 Now I 'm but John o' the Scales his wife." 
 
 " Now fare thee well," said the heir of Linne, 
 
 " Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said he : 
 " A curse light on me, if ever again 
 I bring ray lands in jeopardy." 
 
 The time has come when I must say good-by to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Bodley, and Nathan, and Phippy, and Lucy, and Martin, and Cousin 
 Ned, and Nep, and Mr. Bottom, and the Jersey cow, and the hens 
 and chickens. The pig has already had an affectionate farewell. It 
 would not be hard to tell of the little things that happened to this 
 happy family, year after year, but there are so many books to be 
 read that it would hardly do to keep people busy reading always 
 about the Bodley Family. You may be sure that they were happy, 
 for they had a home where each thought of the others, and was not. 
 all the while thinking of himself. The children learned that of their 
 father and mother, and their father and mother learned it of God. 
 I do not like to go away from them. Let us rather pretend that 
 we are staying in the house, and they have said good-by to us, and 
 have gone off in a great sleigh, covered up with buffalo robes, while 
 Martin, well wrapped in furs which were his Christmas present, 
 stands in the front of the sleigh and drives four horses. Off they 
 go, and we who want to linger behind, can take up the little book 
 that Cousin Ned gave to Lucy Bodley, and read the story he wrote 
 for her the story of Two CHRISTMAS GIFTS.
 
 /
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 
 
 HERE is a little point of 
 land on Cape Cod that vent- 
 ures timidly out into the 
 ocean ; a bay is partly 
 formed by it, and is shel- 
 tered by a breakwater built 
 a mile out from the shore. 
 The breakwater protects 
 Scupper's Point a little also, 
 but the sea, when it has a 
 mind to, knocks up against 
 the rough edge of the Point, 
 though its more usual way 
 has been these many years 
 to come up silently, night 
 and day, and with its 
 watery tongue lick off a 
 
 mouthful of sand and turf. Nobody misses the one mouthful ; but 
 
 by and by, when old people come back to the Point, they look about 
 
 in vain for certain landmarks. 
 
 " Why, where is the little wharf gone ? " 
 
 " Oh, that was washed away long ago ! See, those stones out 
 
 yonder are where the piers were." 
 
 " Here is the spot where the old house stood, from which gran'- 
 
 16
 
 242 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 ther moved away. I know the place by the hollow that marks the 
 cellar. How the bank has crumbled away back of it." 
 
 Yes, the sea is never satisfied. Every day, every twelve hours, 
 it washes up, wave by wave, to the old shore ; and while the people 
 are busy, or away, it steals a bit, and flows back. It would make 
 no difference were people to watch their rough possession ; still the 
 sea would make its way to the shore. 
 
 In the little bay one might usually see some few vessels at an- 
 chor ; very likely a coasting schooner, creeping along, and glad of a 
 snug shelter behind the breakwater ; or one of Captain Gage's 
 sloops that did a tight little business between the Point and New 
 York ; or a fleet of little smacks, that in the summer would skip out 
 after mackerel and blue-fish, and be back before one knew they were 
 gone. But the liveliest scenes were when the fishing-vessels that 
 had been off to the Banks returned with their catch, and one after 
 another dropped into the bay, while the fishermen went ashore and 
 made their way to the general rallying place, D. Scupper's store. 
 
 D. Scupper's store was a square, thick-set building, near the end 
 of a road, which, after coining all the way over from Hyannis, and 
 taking pains to go round an immense boulder that refused to get 
 out of the way, found itself stopped dead by a bank that stumbled 
 off into the water, and so, being disinclined to go back to Hyannis, 
 sauntered about the Point a little, and made itself convenient for a 
 few houses and sheds. 
 
 In the store could be found nearly everything that was worth 
 having, from coffee-mills, and raisins, and Daboll's Arithmetic, to 
 saucepans, and reels for yarn, and calico. There was a trap-door 
 that led to some spicy depths below, and a shuffling staircase in the 
 corner that led to some crockery heights above, while the broad
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 243 
 
 counter in the middle of the room barricaded great bins of sugar 
 and rice ; and a whole post-office of little drawers at the side of the 
 room held a minute assortment of apothecary stuffs, carpet-tacks, 
 and spices. 
 
 But it was not so much to revel in all the luxury of D. Scupper's 
 store that the fishermen and neighbors gathered there, but to see 
 D. Scupper himself; and we have come to Scupper's Point, and to 
 D. Scupper's store for this very purpose also. You could not help 
 seeing him. In the middle of the store, close by the old-fashioned 
 balance-scales, stood a stout, broad-seated chair, wide enough to hold 
 two common people without squeezing them. But it was only just 
 wide enough to allow Mr. Scupper to settle himself comfortably in 
 it : indeed, one arm was partially gone : broken away, we believe, 
 because the chair was too snug a fit. In this chair sat the old man, 
 with his immense form, his white hair starting up from his head, his 
 broad face, with its firm mouth, and merry twinkle to the eye, and 
 his busy, restless hands, always working away at the arms of the 
 chair, or rubbing down his obstinate hair, or pulling down his waist- 
 coat, or working at his buckles, or tugging at his tobacco-box, from 
 which he took little morsels, no larger than a pin's head ; the won- 
 der was that such a very large man could manage such a very small 
 chew. 
 
 Justice of the Peace, Esquire, and Commissioner of something or 
 other all the time, the real office "which he held was that of General 
 Counselor for - all the neighborhood. He settled the quarrels that 
 arose, and administered an even justice, merely by the weight of his 
 character and sound sense ; and no fisherman came home from a 
 voyage without bring his books to 'Squire Scupper to " settle the 
 voyage " for him. Indeed, it would have been hard for any captain 
 to satisfy his crew, unless the 'Squire had said it was all right.
 
 244 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 But, dear me ! what have we to do with all this, when our very 
 small story has only to do with D. Scupper, and D. Scupper's little 
 grandson, Elisha. All of the captains and the fishermen of the Cape 
 may disappear, if they will leave us alone for a little while with these 
 two, on Christmas Eve, toddling across from the store to the old 
 house down the road, as night was shutting in ; old Mr. Scupper 
 toddling heavily over the frosty ground, and little Elisha (a very, 
 very fat little boy) toddling beside, muffled in a comforter that his 
 grandfather had wound round and round him, as if he had been the 
 cork inside of a yarn ball. 
 
 Out of the folds of this comfortable muffler little Elisha was hold- 
 ing his head in a painfully upright way, and, not taking heed to his 
 feet, was knocking every few steps against his grandfather, who 
 began to notice his vagrant ways. He twitched a bit of the com- 
 forter. 
 
 " Hoy, there, 'Lishy ; walk straight, my man. Why, what are 
 you star-gazing for? " 
 
 " I see one ! I see one ! " exclaimed the little fellow. " Gran'- 
 ther, I see a star, and I 'm going to say it right off: 
 
 " Starlight ! Star bright ! 
 First star I see to-night, 
 I wish I may, I wish I might, 
 Have the wish I wish to-night." 
 
 And having said it once, Elisha said it a second time, and then a 
 third. 
 
 " There, Gran'ther, I 've said it three times ; now you say it. 
 But you must look at the star first." 
 
 So Gran'ther Scupper, after looking in every direction but the 
 right one, found Elisha's star, and delivered himself, with considera-
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 245 
 
 ble help from his grandson, of the magical four lines, three times 
 repeated ; and so they came to the house, and pushed through the 
 doorway, to be greeted by Aunt Polly. 
 
 If Mr. Scupper was much too large, his sister Polly was too thin 
 for this world. She was so thin that there was not enough weight 
 to keep her down when she was sitting ; and so she was continually 
 popping up and flying away with wings made of towels and dusters, 
 as it were. Perhaps it was much cooking that had reduced her, for 
 certainly there seemed no hour in the day when she might not be 
 seen stirring something over the fire, or marching about with a 
 skillet in her hand ; and the sizzling which always came mysteri- 
 ously from where she was, seemed to indicate that she was so ab- 
 sorbed in cooking that when nothing else was to be had she cooked 
 herself, for, as she went hither and thither, she kept up this sizzling 
 sound between her teeth, and Elisha, when somewhat smaller, used 
 to watch her and the flapjacks alternately, to see which would be 
 done first. 
 
 Flapjacks ! there they were to-night on the table, for a little 
 while only ; and when they were gone, and Aunt Polly was whisk- 
 ing about, scouring the dishes, and putting everything away as 
 snugly as if a great gale were expected, and all must be lashed 
 down, Gran'ther settled into another of his great chairs, and Elisha, 
 sighing with a sigh of comfort over the last round flapjack that 
 could be taken into his little round stomach, tumbled into his chair, 
 and looked like a miniature picture of the big grandfather at his 
 side. 
 
 " Now Gran'ther," said he, looking very solemn, " I 've got just 
 a great wish, Oh, a great wish," and he wagged his solemn head, 
 " but I 'm not going to tell you, for then it won't come true. Now 
 you must have a wish. My wish is going to happen to-night."
 
 246 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 " Hoy, hoy ! why so 's mine," said Gran'ther. " But mine 's a 
 little wish, so it can't be yours." 
 
 " Does it begin with a D? " asked Elisha, timidly. 
 
 " Well, yeS ; but then it is a little d." 
 
 " Oh," sighed Elisha, " suppose it 's the same as mine." 
 
 " I wish you was abed," said Aunt Polly, who had been in and 
 out, and was nearly through with all she could think of to do. 
 " You 're too fat to sit there before the fire. Hop up, 'Lishy, it 's 
 'most eight o'clock." 
 
 " I believe I will tell you, Aunt Polly," said he ; " and then Gran'- 
 ther can tell you his, and you can see if they 're the same." But 
 Aunt Polly had skipped off after a light for the little boy, and he 
 thought better of his resolution, for he was afraid they were the 
 same. 
 
 " Gran'ther," said he, as he bade him good-night, " it's all fair to 
 tell you as much as this : if my wish comes true, it '11 be a Christ- 
 mas present for you." 
 
 " I declare ! " said the old gentleman. " Now, who 'd have 
 thought it ? that 's just the way with my wish ; if it comes true, it'll 
 be a Christmas present for you, 'Lishy." 
 
 " Oh goody ! " and the little fellow rubbed his knees, as his grand- 
 father did when he was pleased. " They ain't the same. They 
 can't be ! " and off he went to bed. 
 
 The only time when Mr. Scupper was still .all over was in the 
 evening, when he had lighted his pipe, and sat 'reflectively by the 
 fireside, or in summer in the porch. Perhaps it was that Aunt 
 Polly's restlessness carried off all his own activity. At any rate, 
 there he sat, with his hands on his knees, smoking, and staring at 
 the fire, until his pipe was out ; and Aunt Polly, for want of some-
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 24T 
 
 thing else to do, busied herself with going to bed ; when he also 
 went to his chamber, put on his great yellow nightcap, and tucked 
 himself up in his bed, that groaned for a moment under him, and 
 then was still. 
 
 And now came to pass a strange thing : for while the stars were 
 winking at one another in the cold sky, and the one particular star 
 which Elisha and his grandfather had first seen was shining steadily, 
 as if nothing were about to happen, inside the old house a curious 
 change was taking place. Lend us thy light, star bright, that we 
 may look in upon the sleepers. Into this room, where we saw little 
 Elisha go, we will look first. But this is not little Elisha ! What 
 has become of the little fellow ? here lies a young man, who looks 
 as if he might have been Elisha once. Ha ! see his face. He is 
 dreaming strange dreams surely, for it begins to have lines marked 
 in it that were not there before ; we can read those lines : this one 
 means disappointment, that one means hardship ; here is Care writ- 
 ing itself deep in the face ; there is Bitterness grooving the corners 
 of the mouth ; Anxiety is turning the brown hair to gray ; surely 
 the closed eyes see Misery, for a heaviness drags down the lids. 
 And now wrinkles begin to creep over the forehead and temples, 
 and along the cheeks ; they are like the rings of the oak-tree ; they 
 tell of the years of storm that have swept over it. The head has 
 become silvered, the face marked with lines and crosses. Surely 
 this is not our little Elisha ; it must be old Mr. Scupper who has 
 crept in here. Let us seek his room and see. 
 
 Oddest of sights there ! for in the great bed, peeping out from the 
 yellow nightcap, we see a face that is half Elisha's and half the old 
 gentleman's. What has disappeared ? What has come ? The deep 
 furrows of Gran'ther Scupper's face have gone, and there is a ruddy
 
 248 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 glow of youth taking their place ; the smooth skin, the straight 
 mouth, the even eyes, these have no care or trouble back of 
 them ; and yet, and yet, we miss something. What is it ? We 
 want old Gran'ther back again. Ah, now his mouth is turning up 
 at the corners, his head puts on a shock of brown hair, and surely a 
 child is before us, happy, unconscious of care and trouble. All the 
 wisdom has gone from Gran'ther's face, all the serene light, and the 
 quick, determined air. 
 
 Give us back again our little Elisha. We want old Gran'ther 
 Scupper once more ! 
 
 The stars grow fainter, and the star bright no longer lights the 
 rooms in the old house for us. There is a rustling. Aunt Polly is 
 astir, flying about the house, getting it in order, as if she had been 
 asleep since last Christmas, and there had been no one to look after 
 the premises. Then there is a patter of feet down the staircase 
 from the garret. Good ! here comes Elisha in his night-gown, the 
 self-same little round fellow that climbed up-stairs last night. He 
 is making for Gran'ther's room. Dear, dear ! if he should see what 
 we saw. He peeps in at the door, and we look through the crack 
 by the hinge. There is the old gentleman slowly opening one eye. 
 
 " Merry Christmas ! merry Christmas, Gran'ther ! " shouts Elisha, 
 and tumbles into the room, and climbs up the great bedstead, while 
 Gran'ther lends a sleepy hand, and helps hoist him on board. 
 
 " Hoy, hoy there, youngster, waking your sleepy old Gran'ther 
 up. What d' ye mean, sir ? " and the old gentleman gave hifh a 
 shake and a squeeze, which made Elisha bounce up and down on the 
 blanket. 
 
 " Oh, Gran'ther ! " said he, when he could catch his breath, " I 
 had an awful dream, an awful one. I thought I was as old, oh, 
 as old as as Aunt Polly."
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 249 
 
 " Say as old as your granddaddy, you little rogue. Well, did n't 
 you like it ? you 're always saying, ' When I 'ra as old as Gran'- 
 ther.' " 
 
 " Oh, no," said Elisha, rolling his little head. " I never, never 
 wish I may be as old again. Why, Gran'ther, 'seems to me I was 
 just as tired, and everything was so dreadful. People kept a-dying, 
 and everybody was cross, and I was cold and hungry ; why, I was 
 out in a great storm at sea, and I thought every moment we were 
 going on the rocks. Gran'ther ! " he added, suddenly, as he caught 
 sight of the old gentleman's face, " I verily believe you did it. Did 
 you wish for me to be an old man ? Say, did you ? " 
 
 "Well, yes, 'Lishy," said he, smoothing his face with his hand, 
 " I did for fun wish that last night." 
 
 " Oh oh," and Elisha drew a long breath. " Why, I wished 
 for you " - 
 
 "That I might be a little boy : and I was." 
 
 " Grandpapa Scupper ! " 
 
 "- Yes, and I don't think I liked it much. I seemed to be growing 
 younger all the time, and forgetting everything that has happened 
 lately. Why, I forgot you, my little grandson ; and then I forgot 
 your father and mother, and everything else that is precious to me ; 
 I seemed to be losing something all the time, and at last I got to be 
 younger than you, and I don't know where I should have stopped, 
 if the light coming in had n't waked me. And then I fell asleep 
 again, when I found I was still a good-for-nothing old man." 
 
 " Gran'ther, you 're the bestest old man ! Was n't it queer ? 
 Why, I thought it would be splendid, if you could dream you were 
 a little boy. You know you are always telling me what you used 
 to do when you were a little boy."
 
 250 DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY. 
 
 These were the two Christinas gifts ' that old Mr. Scupper and his 
 grandson gave each other that Christmas ; but there were two 
 better ones that remained to each. In little Elisha's heart was 
 Hope, that made the future look very bright, for he knew noth- 
 ing of the evils that were to come ; in Gran'ther Scupper's heart 
 was Recollection, that gathered in a great heap all the happiness of 
 a long life, and laid it before the old man's eyes. 
 
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 T. Kennedy, and E. M. Wimperis. $2.00 ; cloth, 
 full gilt, $2 50 ; Turkey morocco, $5.00. 
 So profusely illustrated that almost everything in the text 
 
 is translated into picture, and the book is really an object 
 
 lesson in piety. Boston Transcript. 
 
 Boys and Girls' Miscellany. A book 
 
 full of excellent and entertaining Stories, Sketch- 
 es of Travel and Adventure, Poems, and pop- 
 ular articles in History, Biography, and Science, 
 by many of the first authors in America and 
 England. Fully and finely illustrated. A not- 
 able gift-book. 8vo, 768 pages, handsomely 
 bound, $2.00. 
 
 J. FENIMORE COOPER. 
 The Cooper Stories : Being Narra- 
 tives of Adventures selected from his Works. 
 With illustrations by F. O. C. Darley. 
 STORIES OF THE PRAIRIE. 
 STORIES OF THE WOODS. 
 STORIES OF THE SEA. 
 
 Per volume, $i oo ; the set, 3 volumes, $3.00. 
 In this series of " Cooper's Juveniles " the most interest- 
 ing adventures in each of his leading works have been ex- 
 tricated from their surroundings, and presented as separate 
 and entertaining narratives. The language of the author 
 has been carefully retained, save where introductory para- 
 graphs have been found necessary. Burlington (Vt.) Free 
 Press.
 
 Ballads for Little Folk. By Alice 
 
 and Pbeebe Cary. Edited by Mary Clemmer. 
 Illustrated. Small 4*0, %\.y>. 
 
 . Chrutia* UnurnlxtZftv*.). 
 
 Sandford and Merton. By Thomas 
 
 I>ay. Illustrated. Ji.oo. 
 
 A production that I well remember and nhall ever be grate- 
 ful for. Z.//J4 ///. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel De Foe. 
 
 A n*w edition, printed from the Standard Eng- 
 lih Ivlition. With eight illustrations on wood, 
 from new design* by Thomas Nast, and many 
 illustrations by the famous French artist, Emile 
 Bayard. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt back and sides, 
 $rxx>; half calf, gilt, $2.50. 
 
 Koliinxon (,'rutoe i* delightful to all rank* and classes. 
 i li,i, ii \ Lamb. 
 
 Mow happy that this, the mont moral of romances, i* not 
 only the most charming of book*, but also the most instruct- 
 ive. />r. Ckalmin. 
 
 The Arabian Days' Entertainments. 
 By Wilhclm ll.mff. Translated from the Ger- 
 man by Hi ill- it I'clham Curtis. Illustrated. 
 $1.75. 
 
 They are exuberant in wit and fancy " Nosey the 
 
 Dwarf' 1 in an incomparable fairy tale, one of the most 
 charming and luxurious piece* of non*en*e ever written. 
 Imlrril, llrfuff* talc* are rather told than written: there i* 
 fireside tMe about them which i* very delightful. Brit- 
 ith Quarterly Ktvirw. 
 
 A Child's History of England. By 
 
 Charles Dickens. Illustrated. $1.00. 
 
 I >i( UIMII never did anything better in it* way than his 
 ('hild'* Hilory of Kngland. . . . . It is all as bright and 
 I tractive a* a (airy tale. New York Evining i'oit. 
 
 Th Punmt/H Assistant. Stories for 
 Children. By Maria Kdgc worth. Illustrated. 
 $1.00. 
 
 An excellent bonk, which hould be in every family of 
 children. JWw liai'm Palladium. 
 
 Marjorie's Quest. By Jcanie T. Gould. 
 Illustrated. #1.50. 
 
 It ha* many | of the qualities that have been so generally 
 admired in Mi** Alcott'* book*, and, in dramatic interest, 
 I* far superior to those stories. TMt Littrary World. 
 
 On the Ferry Boat. By Jennie Harri- 
 son. With frontispiece. 50 cents. 
 
 It is quite a 1 
 BU> traders of 
 aad is infused 
 and faith. B*tUn 
 
 Httle namtiTe ox o 
 
 are hsiadindi in all great ades, 
 with vocnanly pity, tenderness 
 rrmtacrift. 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 True Stories from History and Biog- 
 raphy. Illustrated. l6mo, $1.25. 
 "Little Classic " edition. $1.25. 
 
 The Wonder-Book for Girls and 
 
 Boys. Illustrated. i6mo, $1.25. 
 " Little Classic " edition. $1.25. 
 
 Tanglewood Tales. Illustrated. 
 i6mo. 51.25. 
 " Little Classic " edition. $1.25. 
 
 The Snow-Image : A Childish Mira- 
 cle. Illustrated in colors by Marcus Waterman. 
 Small 410, gilt sides, 75 cents. 
 
 Hawthorne never wrote anything more charming and 
 graceful than his three books tor young people. The first 
 relates some stories of early New England history. The 
 other two give delightful versions of some of the most fa- 
 mous and interesting of the old classic myths and legends. 
 
 Hawthorne's genius ennobles and purifies whatever it 
 touches. In his hands the hideous myths of the old Classic- 
 al Dictionary are extricated from the confusion and deform- 
 ity in which they have been immersed, and presented to us 
 anew in graceful and bewitching shapes. They have been 
 rejuvenated for the juveniles, but with a sweet undercurrent 
 of grace and wisdom that will lend them a charm even for 
 the ripest intellect. Putnam's Monthly. 
 
 Tom Brown's School-Days at Rugby, 
 By Thomas Hughes. Illustrated. Ji.oo. 
 
 It gives, in the main, a most faithful and interesting pict- 
 ure of our public schools. But it is more than this : it is an 
 attempt, a very noble and successful attempt, to christianize 
 the society of our youth through the only practicable chan- 
 nel, hearty and brotherly sympaihy with their feelings ; a 
 book, in short, which a father might well wish to see in the 
 hands of his son. London 'l'imts. 
 
 The Illustrated Annual for Boys 
 
 and Girls. Containing delightful Stories and 
 Poems, by popular American writers. Pro- 
 fusely illustrated, and having a brilliant colored 
 frontispiece. A capital gift book. 8vo, 576 
 pages, handsomely bound, $2.00.
 
 Play-Days. Stories for Young Girls. 
 By Sarah O. Jewett, author of " Deephaven." 
 $1.50. 
 
 A book that children will take great delight in. It has 
 charming stories of the Water Dolly, Prissy's Visit, Nancy's 
 DoH, The Best China Saucer, Half-done Polly, Woodchucks, 
 The Kitten's Ghost, The Pepper Owl, The Yellow Kitten, 
 and others that will entertain little readers thoroughly. The 
 stories are equally wholesome and entertaining. 
 
 We know of no American book that contains fifteen more 
 entertaining and appropriate stories for children. New 
 England Journal of Education. 
 
 Peter's Pictures in Black. By Paul 
 Konewka. With Rhymes from the German. 
 4to, boards, $1.00. 
 
 We should say it was perfectly easy; just nothing at all in 
 fact but scissors, black paper, and genius. The pictures are 
 in their freedom, expression, and grace just unequaled. 
 The Churchman. 
 
 Tales from Shakespeare. By Charles 
 and Mary Lamb. " Little Classic " edition. 
 $1.00. 
 
 The same. 
 $i oo. 
 
 Riverside Classic." Illustrated. 
 
 The London Quarterly Review pronounced this book 
 " one of the most useful and agreeable companions to the 
 understanding of Shakespeare,' and advised youthful read- 
 ers to prepare themselves for reading Shakespeare by read- 
 ing this. 
 
 By Lucy Larcom. 
 
 Childhood Songs. 
 
 Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 Many a thoughtful child and appreciative mother will 
 thank Lucy Larcom for this beautiful volume. Christian 
 Register (Boston). 
 
 Little Lou's Sayings and Doings. 
 By the Author of " Stepping Heavenward," 
 etc., etc. With eight charming illustrations 
 from designs by M. L. Stone. $i 25. 
 
 It is a good while since we have happened on a book 
 whether for juvenile or adult readers, that seemed to be 
 closer to absolute truth of portraiture, and the author is to 
 be congratulated on her success, and to be thanked for the 
 pleasure she gives as well as for the excellent example she 
 sets. The Nation (New York). 
 
 Mother Goose's Melodies for Chil- 
 dren. Illustrated with eight full-page Colored 
 Pictures, by Alfred Kappes. 8vo, $2.00. 
 
 This is beyond comparison the most beautiful " Mother 
 Goose " ever printed. The pictures are wonderfully well 
 drawn, the color printing is admirable, and both old folks 
 and young folks will find " Mother Goose " more fascinat- 
 ing than ever in this new dress. 
 
 ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS. 
 The Trotty Book. Illustrated. $1.25. 
 
 Trotty's Wedding Tour and Story- 
 Book. Illustrated. $1.25. 
 
 The " Trotty " books are so simple that they delight chil- 
 dren, and so bright and natural that they charm everybody. 
 
 The stories in " Trotty's Wedding Tour and Story-Book " 
 are marvels of skill, and full of delicious humor and touch- 
 ing pathos. We do not believe a dry old bank clerk, his 
 head 
 
 " An ant-hill of units and tens," 
 
 could read " Bobbit's Hotel," or, " How June found Massa 
 Lincum," without frequent pauses to wipe his eyes. They 
 are as artless and simple and as affecting as anything in 
 Dickens. The Advance (Chicago). 
 
 HORACE E. SCUDDER. 
 Doings of the Bodley Family in 
 
 Town and Country, 
 trations. $1.50. 
 
 With seventy-seven illus- 
 
 The Bodleys Telling Stories. With 
 eighty-one illustrations. With a richly illumi- 
 nated cover. $i 50. 
 
 The Bodleys on Wheels. With sev- 
 enty-seven illustrations, and a curiously pictur- 
 esque cover. $1.50. 
 
 The Bodleys Afoot. With seventy- 
 nine illustrations, and an ornamental cover. 
 
 $1.50. 
 
 Mr. Bodley Abroad. With many il- 
 
 . lustrations, and an illuminated cover. $1.50. 
 
 The Bodley family consists of Nathan, Philippa, and Lucy 
 Bodley, their'parents, Martin, the hired man, and his brother 
 Hen, Nathan's cousin Ned. Nalhan's pip, Lucy's doll and 
 kitten, the dog Neptune, with horses, chickens, mice, etc., to 
 complete the dramati* persona;. The work is beautifully 
 illustrated, clever pencils leaving their artistic traces on 
 every page. Boston Post. 
 
 The little folk all know the Bodley Books, and delight in 
 them. Mr. Scudder is a model story-teller for children, a 
 miracle worker in the matter of awakened interest. New 
 York Evening Post. 
 
 So delightful that any reader, young or old, wou'd be 
 glad to have more like them. The Watchman (Boston). 
 
 Dream Children, 
 cents. 
 
 Illustrated. 75
 
 Seven Little People and their 
 
 Friends. Illustrated. 75 cents. 
 
 Stories from my Attic. Illustrated. 
 $1.00. 
 
 Mr. Scudder, who has written this pretty book, has as 
 pleasant a gift as any author we know for interesting chil- 
 dren through their imaginative and generous side, most 
 people being content to take their wonder and fancy. He 
 writes suggestively for them, as here and there an agreeable 
 essayist or po;t does for their elders; and he has a style so 
 charmingly simple and easy that we can no more give him 
 up to the children than we can allow them Andersen alto- 
 gether. The Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Swiss Family Robinson. Fully il- 
 lustrated. $1.00. 
 
 What boy who has read the " Swiss Family Robinson," 
 has not envied the brave and manly Fritz and Jack the ad- 
 ventures they met with on that truly marvelous island ? What 
 one of them would not exchange the luxuries and conveniences 
 of his own home for the romance of " Tent House " and the 
 " Falcon's Nest,' 1 which they have so often dreamed of as 
 the headquarters of boyish romance ? Utica Herald. 
 
 A Treasury of Pleasure Books for 
 
 Young People. With elegant illustrations 
 printed in oil colors. 8vo, full gilt, $1.25. 
 
 Being a Boy. By Charles Dudley 
 
 Warner, author of " My Summer in a Gar- 
 den," etc. Illustrated by " Champ." $1.50. 
 
 The book is full of the dry, unexpected humor of which 
 Mr. Warner is a master, and is equally delightful to boys of 
 all ages from six to say sixty or seventy years. It is full of 
 clever pictures, too, by " Champ," who has so fully entered 
 into the author's spirit that the text and the illustrations 
 seem to be necessary parts of the single whole. New York 
 Evening Post. 
 
 No boy can help being better for reading this fine and hu- 
 mane book, which must become dear to its readers, young 
 or old, as a friend becomes dear. Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY. 
 
 Faith Gartney's Girlhood. Illus- 
 trated. $1.50. 
 
 The Gayworthys : A Story of 
 Threads and Thrums. $1.50. 
 
 Patience Strong's Outings. $1.50. 
 
 Hitherto : A Story of Yesterdays. 
 
 $1.50. 
 
 A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's 
 Life. Illustrated. #1.50. 
 
 We Girls. A Home Story. Illus- 
 trated. $1.50. 
 
 Real Folks. Illustrated. $1.50. 
 The Other Girls. Illustrated. $2.00. 
 
 Mrs. Whitney always writes with a purpose, and her 
 works go right down to the innermost soul of all earnest 
 readers ; and they can't help feeling strengthened and in- 
 vigorated, and their souls called to duty as by the sounds of 
 a trumpet. There is a breezy, hearty way with her, that 
 suggests the capable, clear-sighted, energetic woman; and 
 her stories are of the highest and best order of fiction. 
 Louisville Courier-Journal. 
 
 Such books as hers should be in every household, to be 
 read, loaned, reread and reloaned, so long as the leaves and 
 covers will hold together, not holiday volumes for elegant 
 quiet, but stirring and aggressive works, with a "mission/ 1 
 which is to make the world better than they find it. Bos- 
 ton Commonwealth. 
 
 Mrs. Whitney has succeeded in domesticating herself in 
 a great number of American homes. The purity, sweetness, 
 shrewdness, tenderness, humor, the elevated but still homely 
 Christian faith, which find expression in her writings, en- 
 dear her to thousands. E. P. WHIPPLE. 
 
 J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Child Life. A Collection of Poems, 
 
 selected and edited, with an introduction, by 
 J. G. Whittier. Illustrated. Full gilt, $2.25. 
 
 Child-Life in Prose. Selected by J. 
 G. Whittier. Illustrated. Full gilt, $2.25. 
 
 These two books would constitute a library for any family 
 of children, the value of which they would never cease to 
 acknowledge. Parents who are forming little libraries for 
 their households will do well to begin with these, even if 
 their means forbid buying any others at present. Boston 
 A dvertiser. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 
 BOSTON, MASS.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below