_Of the Death of Lars Porsena of Clusium, and of the Comfort that
Sadie McKibben can Give._
The waters of the brook lap and lap. They come in little ripples
over gray stones. They are rippling a song. It is a gentle song.
It is a good-bye song to Lars Porsena of Clusium. The time now is
when there is no Lars Porsena of Clusium. It was only on yesterday.
It was near eventime, when the mamma was gone to the house of her
mother. I was making a go across the corn field to see the tree-folks
in the lane. Brave Horatius did follow after me. Lars Porsena of
Clusium was going on a way ahead. His movements did look queer with
his tail-feathers not growed out yet. He went on. He came a little
way back to see if we were coming. Then he started on in a hurry
way. I was watching him with joy feels in my heart. I was having
thinks how nice it would be when he does get his new tail-feathers
all growed out.
Brave Horatius did give a queer bark, and he pulled the corner of
my apron. I looked looks about. There the chore boy was in a corner
of the corn field with a gun. He was pointing it out on the field.
I had thinks he had not seeing of my dear Lars Porsena out there. I
ran a quick run to keep him from pulling that thing on the gun that
makes the noise and pains. I hollered hollers at him about Lars
Porsena of Clusium crossing the cornfield. When I was come to where
the chore boy was, I did tell him he must not shoot that old gun--a
ball in it might go as far as my dear Lars Porsena of Clusium.
He just laughed a laugh, and he said--he did--that Lars Porsena was
nothing but a crow. And then he pointed that gun right at my own dear
Lars Porsena of Clusium. The noise was a big awful cal lamb of tea. I
had feels I was killed dead when I saw him fall. I ran a quick run.
When I was come to him, I found he was making little flutterings.
When I did go to pick him up, he was wet with much blood. I felt the
shivers of his pains. I wrapped my apron around him so he would not
have cold feels. There was much wetness upon my apron as I did go
along. It was wetness of blood. The sky was more gray, and before
I was come to the house we live in, the raindrops were coming down
in a slow, sad way. I have thinks the sky was crying tears for the
hurts of Lars Porsena of Clusium. And I was too.
I had longs for the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice
to be come back again. He and other mill folks and Dear Love and her
husband and Sadie McKibben and her husband are all away gone until
to-morrow even-time. I had not knows what to do for Lars Porsena of
Clusium. This was not like that time he lost his tail. I did cuddle
him up close in my arms, and I washed off some of the blood, but
more and more came. And sleepy feels were upon him. I wrapped my
apron more close around him, and I did sing songs to him about Ave
Maria and “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus.”
After the mamma was gone to bed and sleeps, I did take Lars Porsena
of Clusium to bed with me. He was so sleepy. I cuddled him up in my
arms and we both did go to sleep, for tired feels was upon us. When
I had wake-ups early on this morning, my own dear Lars Porsena was
very cold and he was very dead and stiffness was upon him. I did
have queer feels in my throat and pain feels all up and down me. I
so did want him alive again, to go explores. When the mamma was most
awake, I climbed out the bedroom window with him in a quick way. I
went on. I did go until I was come to the lane. And I did go on down
our lane until I was come to the tall fir tree, Good King Edward I.
I lay Lars Porsena of Clusium near unto Good King Edward I, and I
said a little prayer and I covered him over with moss.
I now go to have his funeral at Dreux. Brave Horatius too does wait
waits, and quiet is upon him. He has longs for Lars Porsena of Clusium
to come perch on his back. And the winds are calling, and between
the callings of the wind the willows do call down by the creek. They
beckon and call to the soul of Lars Porsena of Clusium.
The clouds go slow across the sky. The water goes slow in the brook.
No one seems to be in a hurry. Even the wind walks slow. I think
she wears a silk robe to-day. I can hear its faint rustle. I think
the wind is dreaming too. With the whispering leaves she sings a
dream-song. This is a dream-day. I stopped in the dusty road and
looked a long while at the sun. It was round and a bright shining.
Then for a little time afterwards, everywhere I looked I saw a tiny
bright shining, and there was a queer feeling in my head.
When I was come to the field, Savonarola did look like the flies
were giving him some bothers. I took my apron and shooed some of
them off. I could only reach a little way up. I have thinks it did
help some. The chore boy did not come for some long time. While
Savonarola waited his coming, I did give him some more fans with
my apron. I had longings for the papa’s newspaper. I had thinks
I could make that go more far up than I could make my apron go.
First I did stand on one side of Savonarola and shake my apron at
the flies. Then I did stand on the other side of him. Those flies
were most lazy. They did n’t want to make moves at all. While I did
make tries to make the flies make moves away, I did sing a song of
_fleurs_ of _grandmère_, of _fraxinelle, romarin, anemone, narcisse,
cornope, oléandre, iris, souci, eglantier, marguerite, aubépine,
renoncule, immortelle, éclaire, anemone, myosotis, eglantier, lys,
iris, éclaire, dauphinelle, ornithogale, romarin, lys, eglantier,
anemone, narcisse, souci_, to Savonarola. Then I went to get him a
drink in my little bucket that I do hide by the willows. He had likes
for that drink of cold water and some more. When that chore boy was
most come I did give Savonarola good-bye pats on his velvet nose.
Afterwards I did go goes down by Launette and on to Nonette where
the willows grow. I did print a message on a leaf. It was for the
soul of Lars Porsena of Clusium. I left it on a willow branch with
a little prayer that his soul would have finding of it.
Then I did make begins to get ready for Aphrodite’s foot-bath. She
has needs for one most every day. And most days she does get it. I
do fill seven Castoria bottles full of water. Then I put their corks
in, and all of them that will go into the lard-pail I do so put in.
Too, I have a little brush to brush her feet with while I do give them
splash-water baths out of the Castoria bottles. Aphrodite has likes
for foot-baths, and some days she does have likes for the shower-baths
I do give to her out of the little flower-sprinkler. I give her back
brushes and then some more showers from the flower-sprinkler. That
flower-sprinkler I did write to the fairies for. I put the letter
in the moss-box by the old log where I do put other letters for the
fairies. The time it was not long until the fairies did leave this
flower-sprinkler for it. I water the wild flowers after warm days
and I water the plants that do grow in the garden. I can almost hear
the tomato-plants say, “We were waiting for you,” every time I do
give them sprinkles. And the cabbage-plants have likes for them,
too. To-day, after I did give shower-baths to Aphrodite and Solomon
Grundy and his sister Anthonya Mundy that has not got as much curl
in her tail as has Solomon Grundy, then I did give shower-baths to
some more folks.
Afterwards I went to the cathedral to have service there, for this
is the going-away day of Good King Edward I in 1307. Brave Horatius
went with me and so did Minerva. She wore her cap with ruffles on it
like the morning-cap of Jenny Strong. Menander Euripides Theocritus
Thucydides walked by my side. And too Sir Francis Bacon went with us.
His leg has well feels a long time now, but he walks not as other
chickens walk. He has likes to go to cathedral service, and so has
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.
To-day after I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus,”
then we all did go goes to the house of Sadie McKibben. When we was
come near unto it, there was Sadie McKibben on the big gray rock under
the old fir tree. Her hands made quick moves with needles--the kind
that knit. She was knitting socks for the man that is her husband
and does live at her house. I sat down on the ground beside her. She
had on her blue gingham apron with the cross stitches on it. I did
make counts of thirty cross stitches on that apron to-day. Some day
I will count them all. There were some grasses growing close to the
gray rock, and their little fingers did touch the cross stitches on
the blue gingham apron of Sadie McKibben. I have thinks they too
would like to cuddle up to Sadie McKibben.