O du lieb' Kiditchin
Du bist ganz bewitchin,
Waw- - - -he!
In summer days Kiditchin
Thou'rt dear from nose to britchin
Waw----he!
No dought thoult get a switchin
When for mischief thou'rt itchin'
Waw- - - -he!
But when you're good Kiditchin
You shall feast in James's kitchin
Waw- - - -he!
O now lift up thy song
Thy noble note prolong
Thou living Chinese gong!
Waw---he! waw---he waw
Sweetest donkey man ever saw.
Clemens undertook to ride Kiditchin one day, to show the children how
it should be done, but Kiditchin resented this interference and promptly
flung him over her head. He thought she might have been listening to the
poem he had written of her.
Susy's discovery that the secret of her biography was known is shown
by the next entry, and the touch of severity in it was probably not
entirely unconscious:
Papa said the other day, “I am a mugwump and a mugwump is pure from
the marrow out.” (Papa knows that I am writing this biography of
him, and he said this for it.) He doesn't like to go to church at
all, why I never understood, until just now. He told us the other
day that he couldn't bear to hear anyone talk but himself, but that
he could listen to himself talk for hours without getting tired, of
course he said this in joke, but I've no doubt it was founded on
truth.
Susy's picture of life at Quarry Farm at this period is realistic and
valuable--too valuable to be spared from this biography:
There are eleven cats at the farm here now. Papa's favorite is a
little tortoise-shell kitten he has named “Sour Mash,” and a little
spotted one “Fannie.” It is very pretty to see what papa calls the
cat procession; it was formed in this way. Old Minniecat headed,
(the mother of all the cats) next to her came aunt Susie, then Clara
on the donkey, accompanied by a pile of cats, then papa and Jean
hand in hand and a pile of cats brought up in the rear, mama and I
made up the audience.
Our varius occupations are as follows. Papa rises about 1/2 past 7
in the morning, breakfasts at eight, writes, plays tennis with Clara
and me and tries to make the donkey go, in the morning; does varius
things in P.M., and in the evening plays tennis with Clara and me
and amuses Jean and the donkey.
Mama rises about 1/4 to eight, breakfasts at eight, teaches Jean
German reading from 9-10; reads German with me from 10-11. Then she
reads studdies or visits with aunt Susie for a while, and then she
reads to Clara and I till lunch time things connected with English
history (for we hope to go to England next summer) while we sew.
Then we have lunch. She studdies for about half an hour or visits
with aunt Susie, then reads to us an hour or more, then studdies
writes reads and rests till supper time. After supper she sits out
on the porch and works till eight o'clock, from eight o'clock to
bedtime she plays whist with papa and after she has retired she
reads and studdies German for a while.
Clara and I do most everything from practicing to donkey riding and
playing tag. While Jean's time is spent in asking mama what she can
have to eat.
It is impossible, at this distance, to convey all that the farm meant
to the children during the summers of their infancy and childhood and
girlhood which they spent there. It was the paradise, the dreamland they
looked forward to during all the rest of the year. Through the long,
happy months there they grew strong and brown, and drank deeply of the
joy of life. Their cousins Julia, Jervis, and Ida Langdon ranged about
their own ages and were almost their daily companions. Their games were
mainly of the out-of-doors; the woods and meadows and hillside pastures
were their playground. Susy was thirteen when she began her diary;
a gentle, thoughtful, romantic child. One afternoon she discovered a
wonderful tangle of vines and bushes between the study and the sunset--a
rare hiding-place. She ran breathlessly to her aunt:
“Can I have it? Can Clara and I have it all for our own?”
The petition was granted, of course, and the place was named Helen's
Bower, for they were reading Thaddeus of Warsaw and the name appealed to
Susy's poetic fancy. Then Mrs. Clemens conceived the idea of building a
house for the children just beyond the bower. It was a complete little
cottage when finished, with a porch and with furnishings contributed by
friends and members of the family. There was a stove--a tiny affair, but
practical--dishes, table, chairs, shelves, and a broom. The little house
was named Ellerslie, out of Grace Aguilar's Days of Robert Bruce, and
became one of the children's most beloved possessions. But alas for
Helen's Bower! A workman was sent to clear away the debris after
the builders, and being a practical man, he cut away Helen's
Bower--destroyed it utterly. Susy first discovered the vandalism, and
came rushing to the house in a torrent of sorrow. For her the joy of
life seemed ended, and it was long before she could be comforted. But
Ellerslie in time satisfied her hunger for retreat, became, in fact, the
nucleus around which the children's summer happiness centered.
To their elders the farm remained always the quiet haven. Once to
Orion's wife Clemens wrote:
This is a superb Sunday....
The city in the valley is purple with shade, as seen from up here at
the study. The Cranes are reading and loafing in the canvas-
curtained summer-house, fifty yards away, on a higher (the highest)
point; the cats are loafing over at Ellerslie, which is the
children's estate and dwelling house in their own private grounds
(by deed from Susie Crane), a hundred yards from the study, among
the clover and young oaks and willows. Livy is down at the house,
but I shall now go and bring her up to the Cranes to help us occupy
the lounges and hammocks, whence a great panorama of distant hills
and valley and city is seeable. The children have gone on a lark
through the neighboring hills and woods, Susie and Clara horseback
and Jean, driving a buggy, with the coachman for comrade and
assistant at need. It is a perfect day indeed.
The ending of each year's summer brought only regret. Clemens would
never take away all his things. He had an old superstition that to
leave some article insured return. Mrs. Clemens also left something--her
heart's content. The children went around bidding various objects
good-by and kissed the gates of Ellerslie too.