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The Independence Day Horror at Killsbury
[Illustration: BOSTON HARBOR STYLE.]
The Independence Day
Horror At Killsbury
_By_ Asenath Carver Coolidge
Author of "The Modern Blessing, Fire"
and many other short stories
and poems
_Illustrated by_
Cassius M. Coolidge
Watertown, N. Y.:
Hungerford-Holbrook Company.
1905
Copyrighted 1905
By ASENATH CARVER COOLIDGE
Published April, 1905
HUNGERFORD-HOLBROOK CO.,
WATERTOWN, N. Y.
Dedicated
_To my Grandmother, Asenath Carver Townsend
a descendent of John and Mary Carver
who came to America to escape persecution
for their religious belief which would not
permit them to countenance war or its
vain-glorious celebrations_
Preface
The world is a dangerous place to live in, especially for helpless and
innocent children. Wise parents are sadly aware of this fact and have
always been striving to make it less dangerous. That this was no small
task even in the beginning is easy enough to be seen; for there were
poison fruits and reptiles and savage beasts to contend with; but it was
light indeed compared with the parental task of today, when the monsters
of militarism and greed are abroad, planting their danger-traps in the
pathway of unwary feet.
In our own country Independence Day has proved to be their golden harvest.
The freedom given to small boys on this day makes them easy victims to the
tempters' wiles, who under the treacherous guise of patriotism have seized
upon them more and more every year, until the list of the dead and wounded
has assumed appalling proportions. Still there is little talk of doing
away with this hideous slaughter; while there is "big talk" about "race
suicide," and an appeal to mothers to bring forth more sons to supply the
nation's need.
The nation's need! What need, we ask in God's name, has this nation of
three or four thousand boys to sacrifice annually on our country's altar?
Let the mothers answer. Let them demand that this country be made a fit
place for children to live in. That the ten million now spent annually for
their destruction, be used for their benefit. If only one half of this
amount were used rightly what a change would come over the face of this
continent! Every town, however small, would have its pretty park for the
children to play in without fear and trembling. There would be flowers and
music--true and gentle music that takes the savagery out of the human
heart instead of filling it with savage impulses. Music that would not
drown the voices of the birds, but inspire them to sing their rarest
songs. Music that would not wound the ears of the tenderest babes but seem
to them like a mother's softest lullaby; to which it is easy to fancy that
God's birds, the angels, are delighted to listen.
ASENATH CARVER COOLIDGE.
_Antwerp, N. Y., April, 1905._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER. PAGE.
Preface vii.
I. The Cornwallis Cottage 13
II. The Round About Road to Schwarmer Mansion 22
III. The Alarm 33
IV. Risus Sardonicus 40
V. Insanity or Exile 49
VI. The Funny Fourth Racket on English Soil 57
VII. The Double Engagement 65
VIII. Dr. Muelenberg's Prescription 74
IX. The Bridal Trip 80
X. A Public Meeting--Statistics and Resolutions 87
XI. Appeal Instead of Prohibition 101
XII. A Good Celebration--Adelaide Schwarmer and
Ruth's Dog 114
XIII. Alfonso Bombs' Pyrotechnics and Adelaide
Schwarmer's Blame 126
XIV. Schwarmer's Threatened Arrest 140
XV. The Killsbury Women Arrest Themselves 148
XVI. The Effect of Ruth's Speech 160
XVII. The Query--Ruth's Dog Dombey Brings Her a Note 173
XVIII. Mr. Bombs' Disgust with Chicago and the
Pyro-King's Plans 183
XIX. Schwarmer Does a Little Hustling on Adelaide's
Account--A Fourth of July Bugle 193
XX. The Dedication of the Library 203
XXI. Adelaide Stays at Home with Her Father 213
XXII. A Wonderful Change in Killsbury 228
XXIII. Mr. Bombs Tells All He Knows About Laurens
Cornwallis' Mysterious Death 238
Illustrations
PAGE.
Boston Harbor Style _Frontispiece._
The Funny Fourth Racket on English Soil 62
Going to Visit the President 82
"A Feast is Better than Firecrackers" 118
"Fire, Fire!" Cried a Voice 134
The Independence Day Horror at Killsbury
CHAPTER I.
THE CORNWALLIS COTTAGE.
It was Independence Day. The sun rose gorgeously. The air was electric and
inspiring. Blossoming plants were exhaling rare fragrance. The forests and
rivers were palpitating with glad, soft sounds and gentle fervor. The
birds were singing jubilantly, and various forms of living things were
alert and antic. Yes, it was "Independence Day in the morning" as the
Killsbury boys called it. It was full of glorious promise--the list of the
dead and wounded had not as yet come in!
Apparently there were not half a dozen people in the town who would have
admitted that there would be any casualties on the day that had dawned so
beautifully; although there had been an increasing number of them every
year since Millionaire Schwarmer had come and built his mansion on "The
Hill" and decorated its brow with a big-mouthed cannon.
The cannon began to boom as soon as the sun appeared above the horizon. It
continued to boom industriously as though it were determined to wake up
every citizen in Killsbury and the surrounding country to the important
fact that "Independence Day had really and truly and unmistakably dawned,"
as Captain Dan Solomon facetiously remarked. It was a fact that would have
been well known and appreciated, at least by every inmate of the
Cornwallis Cottage, even though there had been no cannon on Schwarmer Hill
to vomit it forth; for the reason that the sole son of the house, Laurens
Angelo Cornwallis, had been born on that day.
Little Laurens Angelo Cornwallis was the most beautiful boy in Killsbury,
"or the whole world," averred the Reverend Dr. Normander, who had baptised
him and had traveled the world nearly enough over to make a correct
estimate with regard to the part that remained. Yes, and he was as good
and bright as he was beautiful--the joy of his mother, the pride of his
father and to his sister Ruth the "dear angel," as she called him, so it
goes without saying that his birthday would have been celebrated with due
love and honor even if he had not been born on Independence Day; although
there might not have been such a showing of red, white and blue--probably
no more than one American flag, with an English and French flag lovingly
intertwined (for Mr. Cornwallis was of English descent and his wife of
French descent) whereas now there were flags on the four corners of the
cottage, and over all the doors and windows both inside and outside and a
generous display of bunting everywhere.
"A double quantity" as Mr. Cornwallis was wont to ask for when he bought a
new supply of colors.
"One half to celebrate our boy's birthday and the other half to celebrate
our Nation's birthday. You see we don't intend to be partial."
And when the shopman, who inclined to think that love of one's own country
meant hate of all other countries, remarked "there are some who say that
we should love our country more than our wives and children," Mr.
Cornwallis replied:
"I haven't got to that point yet and I doubt if I ever shall. I don't
intend to make burnt sacrifices on any altar."
While he was arranging the flags the Reverend Dr. Normander called.
"You see, Doctor, I love Mother England and Sister France very well
indeed, but I love America supremely."
"Yes I _see_," replied Dr. Normander, "and I know it is very easy to love
our own country; but to love other countries equally well--in other words
to love our neighbors _as_ ourselves--there's the rub, Mr. Cornwallis."
"I recognize the beauty of equality, Doctor," laughed Mr. Cornwallis, "and
I think I might be able to love other countries as well as my own country
after a great deal of practice and very possibly, my neighbor as well as
myself, but I fear I could never love my neighbor's boy as well as I love
my own boy. I hope I am taking a step in the right direction when I pay
equal honor to my country's birthday and to his."
Little Ruth caught her father's spirit as by infection. Every Fourth of
July she arose as soon as the cannon began to boom and running out into
the dewy or rainy garden, whichever it happened to be, she picked two
great bunches of red and white flowers and arranged them in two blue vases
and put one at the end of the table where mamma sat and the other at the
end where papa sat in honor of the two birthdays.
Mrs. Cornwallis made a new patriotic suit for her darling boy each year.
This year it was a quaint George Washington suit in red, white and blue
with a cute Can't-tell-a-lie cap, all spangled with stars.
After breakfast was over, she spread the suit out on the bed in her room.
She was going to give her boy a bath preparatory to putting it on.
The cannon on Schwarmer Hill began to boom again just as Laurens was
stepping into his little bath tub. The boy shivered.
"What makes you shiver so, Laurens? Is the water too cold?" asked his
mother.
"O no, mamma! It's the cannon I'm shivering at. It made the house shiver.
What makes them have it so awful loud?"
"So as to be sure and make everybody hear, Laurens."
"I think a bugle would be better, mamma."
"So do I, my boy, but I suppose Mr. Schwarmer doesn't."
"I'm afraid of Mr. Schwarmer, mamma. He gave Benny Horton something that
blew his eye out last Fourth."
"So am I, my boy. Fireworks are not fit for little boys to handle. They
smell bad, they are bad, dangerous and noisy."
She was rubbing his white satiny skin with her soft hands. She stopped
short and added:
"If he ever offers you any, you will refuse to take them, and you will
tell him what mamma says about them, won't you darling?"
He threw his arms around her neck and kissed her.
"Yes, mamma, I will. You don't want your little boy to have his eyes put
out, do you?" he said pathetically.
"No indeed, Laurens," cried the mother turning around to get his new pants
and brush away a tear.
"Mamma, the gardener said my old pants were holy. What did he mean?"
"He meant you had worn holes in them, Laurens?"
"What did the Sunday-school teacher mean when she said the war we are
going to celebrate today was a holy war? Did she mean we had worn holes in
it? Worn it out?"
"No," laughed Mamma, "she meant it was a war to make the English give us
our own things just as you would fight if a dog should try to eat up your
dinner."
"O mamma, I would give poor doggy my dinner if he were hungry," said
Laurens, with tears in his eyes.
"Yes, I know you would, my darling, but if you were hungry and he would
not let you have any, what then?"
"I would pet and coax him, mamma, until he let me have some."
Mrs. Cornwallis gave up the argument and hugged and kissed her boy to her
heart's content. But Laurens did not give it up so easily. When she was
fastening his ruffled shirt front with her beautiful sapphire buttons
which were a part of his father's wedding gift, he touched her on the
forehead and said:
"Please tell me, mamma, what kind of animals the English are? Bridget
calls them 'Johnny Bulls.' Do they look like our bulls?"
"No, no, my child. They look like ourselves. Like your papa. Your
grandpapa came from England when he was a little boy about your age."
"O mamma! You don't know how s'prised I am. I thought the English were a
sort of bulls--dangerous bulls, that pitched into our grandpas with their
horns and they had to kill them or be hooked to death."
"No, Laurens, they were men, but they wronged us."
"I think it would be awful to kill anybody just for that, mamma."
"So it seems to you now, my boy, but when you have grown to be a man--"
she hesitated. A sudden fear shot through her heart. Was it that she was
not teaching him quite right, or was it that of an impending sorrow? Then
she added with a sigh: "The Lord only knows, Laurens. I hope you may think
the same; but I fear you will think quite differently."
Later on his toilet was finished and a miniature George Washington stood
before her looking up into her face with the Can't-tell-a-lie expression
so dear to her heart.
"There, you may go now and get your kite. Ruth must have gotten the
streamers all tied on by this time."
He ran to his sister's room, and she put the beautiful new kite that Ralph
Norwood had made on purpose for him, into his chubby little hand and
watched him in an ecstacy of admiration as he ran down through the garden
and out into the big sunny field where he was going to make it fly.
Then she went into mamma's room; for they were going to take each of them
a sweet, sweet bath and make everything ready for the beautiful home
celebration. The table was to be loaded with refreshments that were truly
refreshing for a hot day, and little Laurens was to have a birthday cake
with eight roses (to tell how old he was) circling around a tiny flag on a
tiny staff made of a goose-quill in imitation of the famous one with which
the American Declaration of Independence was signed.
The Reverend Dr. Normander and family were to be there and Ralph Norwood
and his brothers. They would have music and singing and the children might
play at fort-building out in the fragrant garden; but they would have no
"nasty fireworks," as Mrs. Cornwallis called them.
She was a true Frenchwoman in her tastes, although truly American in
education, and would not have the sweet smelling plot of ground on which
she had spent so much of her spare time, turned into a pit of
vile-smelling powder and brimstone. She resolutely maintained that she
could show her intense patriotism in better, safer, and more odorous ways.
And she did it to the entire satisfaction of everybody in Killsbury unless
it might be Millionaire Schwarmer who came to his mansion on The Hill
every Fourth of July, boomed his cannon and distributed free fireworks
among the boys of the town, "in grateful remembrance," he said, "of the
fact that he was born there."
Mrs. Cornwallis said to her husband that it was a pity he could not show
his gratitude in more agreeable and useful ways, but she did not say so in
public or brood over it in private. She was a very busy housewife and
devoted mother and had no time to cultivate even the necessary grievances.
Mr. Cornwallis was in sympathy with his wife's opinions; but as yet it had
not occurred to him that free fireworks, (like free whiskey) were any
worse for the town than those that were regularly bought and paid for. As
to the legal restrictions necessary with regard to the sale and
manufacture of explosives for the celebration of our national day, he was
beginning to be very outspoken.