_How the Mamma’s Wish Came True, and how Opal was Spanked for it;
and of the Likes which Aphrodite Had for a Clean Place to Live in._
In the morning of to-day, before I did eat my bowl of mush and milk
for breakfast, I did go to the cathedral to say thank prayers for
the good works of Leonardo da Vinci, for this is the day of his
going away in 1519. When after-breakfast works was done, the mamma
did have me to churn. While I did make the handle with the cross
sticks on it go up and down in the churn, I did have hearing of the
little glad songs all the fleurs were singing out in the field. When
the butter was come, the mamma did take it out the churn. She put
all the little yellow lumps in a wood bowl. Then she gave to them
pats and more pats. When she got through patting the butter into
its proper form, the mamma did throw the butter-paddle over on the
cook-table. She said she hoped and wished that she would never see
that butter-paddle again. She won’t. After I heard her say that, I
floated it away in the creek. It made a nice boat. It did sail along
in a bobby way. I took Solomon Grundy with me. I just let him dabble
his toes. When he is an older pig, he can wade right out into the
creek with me. His eyes did look bright to-day while I was telling
him what we was going to do when he got to be a bigger pig.
When I was come back to the house we live in, the mamma did spank
me. Then she did send me to get that butter-paddle in a hurry. It
was making bobs by the reeds by the old rail fence where the singing
creek goes under and on. I brought it back to her and then she did
take and spank me again. Now I have wonders about things--the mamma
did say she wished she would never see it again.
After I did mind the baby and sleeps was come upon it, then I did
walk into the garden. I went there to find out how much things had
grown since last time I was there. First I pulled up a bean plant.
It looked a little more big--the two peek-a-boo leaves did. After I
looked close looks at it, I did plant it again. Then I pulled up a
radish. It was doing nicely and I ate it. I forgot to give it close
looks before I put it in my mouth to see how much it did grow since
that last time. After I swallowed it, I pulled up another radish to
find out. It was doing well. I put it back in the garden again and
I went to the house and got it a drink of buttermilk. I carried it
out to it in the papa’s shaving-mug. There was more drink than one
radish needs, so I did give four onions and two more radishes sips
of buttermilk. And I did give to the papa’s shaving-mug some washes
in the brook, and I put it back in its place on the shelf again.
Just then the mamma had comes into the house. And there was more
spanks. The back part of me does feel sore feels. I have thinks I
will go and give geology lectures to the folks in the nursery, and
too I will sing them lullaby songs and the bird and _fleur chant de
fête de grandpère_ of _niverolle_ and _ortolan_ and _verdier_ and
_étourneau_ and _nenufar_ and _éclaire_ and _ulmaire_ and _fraxinelle_.
[Photograph: A PATH TO “EXPLORES” IN THE FAR WOODS]
I so have gone goes, and the folks in the nursery was glad for food
and songs. And afterwards I went more on into the woods. There
was little whispers among the leaves. And there was a song in the
tall fir tree-tops. And a pine tree was saying a poem. I listened
listens. Then I went goes on. I saw a man coming. He did take long
steps. When he was nearer come, I had seeing it was the man that
wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. I did go adown the path in
a more quick way. He did have seeing of my coming. Then I did hide
behind a tree. He came on. When he was near the tree he did say, “I
thought I saw someone coming. Guess I was mistaken. I think I’ll
take these splints for the hospital back to the mill.”
When I did hear him say that, I ran in a quick way back to the path.
He did n’t see me. He was looking long looks away. Then I did give
his coat-sleeve a gentle pull, and he did whistle, and he did ask
me if there was needs for splints at the hospital. And I told him
all in one breath how much needs there was. He had me to tell him
all over again about the little chicken that did have its leg hurt.
And I gave him explanations how it was Sir Francis Bacon did have
his leg hurt in a real bad way, and the big folks was going to kill
him, but they gave him to me for my very own because he was n’t any
good any more.
And the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did have
understanding, and he went goes with me to the hospital that I do
have for little hurt folks, at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. While I did
hold little Sir Francis Bacon, the man that wears gray neckties and
is kind to mice did fix the splints on his hurt leg in a gentle way.
Then I did pray prayers for his getting well soon. Brave Horatius did
bark Amen--and one of the most tall pine trees was saying a poem.
* * * * *
After morning’s works was done I was washing out clothes for the
baby. I thought what a nice christening robe one of the baby’s
dresses would make for one of the new baby pigs. The mamma had not
thoughts that way. When the dress was on the line, I did go by the
chicken-yard to have sees how the children of Minerva are growing.
Pius VII is getting some tail-feathers. He comes to feed from my hand
every day, and he likes to go to school in my little basket. He has
not been for a whole week now, because the last time I took him he
peeped and teacher sent us home. Next day I took Francis Beaumont
and John Fletcher, and they was quiet.
Last time I took them to cathedral service, Ben Jonson pecked
Sir Walter Raleigh on the head. I said prayers over them for peace
between them. Then I put one in a little box on one log and I put
the other one in a little box on the other log. The boxes was alike.
To-day I had sees of these two drinking out of the water-pan together.
Peace was between them. She is a nice mother-hen that has got all
her children growed up. And little Edmund Spenser was scratching
for a worm near his little brown brother Oliver Goldsmith. And all
Minerva’s family was growing well.
I felt satisfaction feels about it, and I sat down on a log to pick
out names for the twins I am going to have when I grow up. I picked
out a goodly number of names, but I could not have decides which
ones. I had thinks I would wait a little time, and I had remembers it
was time for me to be making another portrait of Solomon Grundy. So
I went around by the pig-pen to get Solomon Grundy. I said comfort
words to Aphrodite. I told her how it was I was just taking Solomon
Grundy to make a portrait of him, and as how I was going to make it
in the same way and in the same place as I did make her portrait
quite a time ago. She grunted a short grunt and then a long grunt.
Sometimes it is difficult to understand pig talk. But her next
grunt--it was very plain. It was just an invitation to make Solomon
Grundy’s portrait there by her side, and no needs of taking him out
of the pig-pen.
I told her yes, I would make his portrait right there by her, and
I did bring many brown bracken ferns after I did have the pig-pen
cleaned out. Most every day I do give the pig-pen a rake-out, and
bring some clean dirt from the garden. I have thinks pigs do have
likes for clean places to live in. It brings more inspirations to
their souls. And, too, every day Aphrodite does have likes for her
feeding-trough to be scrubbed clean all over. And I have planted
ferns and fleurs all around her pig-pen. It is a very nice place,
with sweet smells of grass and fleurs. And Aphrodite was glad for
the brushing I did give her to-day.
I’ve got a brush--a nice new brush--a good new brush. It is for to
brush my pig friends. They so do need brushings. This new brush the
man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did get for me last
time he did go to the mill town. The pigs do like the feels the new
brush does make upon their backs. The clean feels it does give to
them are pleasant to their souls.
After I did give her the brushing, I did get moss and cover the
clean feed-trough with it. That made a nice place to sit and draw
Solomon Grundy’s portrait by his mother there. I drew him lying by
her side. Then I had him to stand on his feet, and I drew one of him
that way. I had it almost done. There was a little noise. It was
the step of someone going by. I had not knows who it was. I went on
drawing Solomon Grundy’s ears and his curly tail. Then I had knows
what it was. It was that chore boy come to feed the pigs--and he
poured all that bucket of swill on top the moss and Solomon Grundy’s
portrait and me.
The feels I did feel--they was drippy ones. And I did have decides
to make that other portrait of Solomon Grundy another time. I said
good-bye to Aphrodite. Then I went goes in a quick way to the singing
creek where the willows grow, to get the swill-smells off. First
I did wade out a little way. Then I sat down. The water came in a
nice way up to my neck, and it went singing on. I gave my curls
wash-offs, and I did listen to the song the creek was singing as it
did go by. It was a song of the hills. Being up to my neck made the
water sounds very near to my ears. I had likes for that.
By-and-by I did have feels that I was clean again and I did have
thinks I better go get some dry clothes on, because sitting there
in the singing creek did make my clothes some wet. When I was come
to the house we live in, the mamma was gone to the house of Elsie,
so I did go in. First I did give my clothes some wring-outs by the
steps, so the water would not have drips on the kitchen floor, for
the mamma has likes to keep her house very clean.
When I did have dry clothes on me, I did go to hang the wet ones
on bushes in the woods to dry. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus went
with me. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil rode in one of my apron pockets
and Felix Mendelssohn rode in the other one. And Louis II, le Grand
Condé, did have rides in my sleeve. We was all very glad. As we went
along, I had seeings the strings I have put on the bushes for the
birds was gone. We went on and on some more. I did have looks about.
I did have seeing of little wood-folks going their ways. I watched
their little moves and I had seeing of what color they was. I made
stops to tell them about this being the borning day of Linnæus in
1707, and the going-away day of Georges Cuvier in 1832.
We went on. All things was glad. The winds did sing. The leaves
did sing. The grasses talked in whispers all along the way. I have
thinks they were saying, “Petite Françoise, l’été approche--l’été
approche.” I did have hearings to all they were so saying, as I did
go along. And the little birdlings in their cradles were calling
for more to eat. And I did make a stop to watch the mother-birds
and father-birds in their comings and goings. Now are busy times.