My real name was so short that I was called Nancy, "for long." I was the
fourth child in a very large family. The three elder were a brother and
two sisters. The first, very quick at books and figures, finished his
education at an early age, and seemed to me about as old and dignified
as my father. My sisters, Sarah and Mary, were exemplary in school and
out. The former, at eight, read Virgil; painted "Our Mother's Grave" at
eleven--'twas an imaginary grave judging from the happy children
standing by; wrote rhymes for all the albums, printed verses on
card-board and kept on living. Mary read every book she could find; had
a prize at six years of age for digesting "Rollins' Ancient History;"
had great mathematical talent, and though she sighed in her fourteenth
year that she had grown old, yet continues to add to her age, being one
of the oldest professors in a flourishing college.
With such precedences, it is not strange that my parents were astonished
when their fourth child developed other and less exaggerated traits,
with no inclination to be moulded. Within ten months of my eighth year,
my teacher, who had previously dealt with Sarah and Mary with great
success, made the following remark to me: "If thou wilt learn to answer
all those questions in astronomy," passing her pencil lightly over two
pages in _Wilkin's Elements_ "before next seventh day, I'll give thee
two cents and a nice note to thy parents" (my father was a scientific
man, and my mother a prime mover in our education).
"Two cents" did seem quite a temptation, but the lesson I concluded not
to get. "I worked wiser than I knew." I may have wanted a "two cents"
many a time since, but I never was sorry about that. Spelling,
arithmetic, grammar, geography, history and reading, though they were
the Peter-Parley edition, seemed about enough food for a child that was
hungering and thirsting for a doll like Judith Collin's, and for
capacity to outrun the neighboring boys. To be sure the recitation in
concert, where the names of the asteroids, only four in number (instead
of a million and four) were brought out by some of us, as "vesper,"
"pallid," "you know," and "serious" showed that we did not confine
ourselves too closely to the book.
Seventh-day afternoon was a holiday, and on one of these occasions I was
sent to stay with my grandmother, as my mother, as my maiden aunt (the
latter lived with my grandmother) were going to Polpis to a corn-pudding
party. I was too troublesome to be left at home, therefore, two birds
were to be killed with one stone.
Now I had for a long time desired to be left alone with my lame and deaf
grandmother and the Tall Clock, especially the Tall Clock. I went,
therefore, to her old house on Plover street in a calm and lovely frame
of mind and helped get my aunt ready for the ride.
'Twas a cold day though September; and after she took her seat in the
flag-chair tied into the cart, I conceived the notion to add my
grandmother's best "heppy" to the wraps which they had already put into
the calash. I always had wanted a chance at that camphor-trunk; and the
above cloak, too nice to be worn, lay in the bottom underneath a mighty
weight of neatly-folded articles of winter raiment. It came out with a
"long pull" and many a "strong pull" and I got to the door with the
head of it, while the whole length of this precious bright coating was
dragging on the floor. But the cart had started, and when my aunt looked
back, I was flourishing this "heppy" to see the wind fill it.
I returned to the room, restored the article to the chest quite snugly,
leaving one corner hanging out and that I stuffed in afterwards and
jumped upon the cover of the trunk so that it shut. Very demurely I sat
down before the open fire by my grandmother's easy chair, rocking
furiously, watching my own face in the bright andirons, whose convex
surfaces reflected first a "small Nancy" far off, then as I rocked
forward, a large and distorted figure. My rapid motions made such rapid
caricatures that I remained absorbed and attentive. My grandmother, not
seeing the cause of my content, decided (as she told my mother
afterwards), "that the child was sick, or becoming regenerated." Happy
illusion!
At last, my grandmother got to nodding and I sprang to my
long-contemplated work.
Putting a cricket into one of the best rush-bottom chairs, I climbed to
the Clock; took off the frame glass and all, from its head, placing it
noiselessly on the floor; opened the tall door in the body of the clock;
drew out and unhung the pendulum--the striking weight, whose string was
broken, was made all right and put for the time being on the table. Then
the "moon and stars" which had been fixed for a quarter of a century,
were made to spin; the "days of the month" refused to pass in review
without a squeak that must be remedied, so I flew into the closet to get
some sweet oil which was goose-grease; but shutting the closet-door I
roused my grandmother.
I quietly went at the old rocking again, the bottle of goose-grease in
my pocket, which I feared might melt and I should lose the material--the
bottle was already low.
Fortunately my grandmother began napping again, and I resumed my task.
Applying the oil with a bird's wing was a lavish process--the wheels
moved easily; the hands became quite slippy; the moon "rose and set" to
order; the days of the month glided thirty times a minute, and I was
just using a pin to prove the material of the dial when my grandmother
turned her head, at the same time reaching for her cane (the emergency
had been foreseen and special care had I taken that the cane should not
be forthcoming). "Nancy! Nancy! is thee crazy?"
Thinking to strengthen this idea, I jumped into the clock and held the
door fast; but finally thinking 'twas cowardly not to face it I jumped
out again, up into the chair, saying, "I am mending this old clock;" and
notwithstanding her remonstrances, continued my work putting back the
various pieces. When I was afraid of "giving out and giving up," I
decided I would just answer her back once and say "I wont." The
wickedness would certainly discourage her beyond a hope, and then I
could finish.
So I put the moon on, staring full; in putting on the hands I got, I
thought, sufficiently worked up to venture my prepared reply to her
repeated "get down!"
I accordingly approached my grandmother, stopping some feet from her;
bent my body half-over, my long red hair covering my eyes, and my head
suiting its action to my earnestness, and in a decided rebellious tone,
I spelled, "I W-O-N-T;" but accidently giving myself a turn on my heel I
fell to the floor, with the pronunciation still unexpressed.
I quickly rose, though I saw stars without any "two cents," and returned
to, and finished my work. I had just put the last touch on when I heard
the wheels. How I dreaded my aunt's appearance! As she entered the door
I was found "demurely rocking" to the pictures in the andirons.
My aunt thought I did not seem natural, and kissed me as being "too
good, perhaps, to be well." My grandmother tried to speak, but I
interrupted:
"I must go home without my tea. I am not afraid of the dark, and I
better go."
This was another proof of indisposition to the aunt. I left the house,
kissing as I thought, my grandmother into silence; but as I looked back
I saw she could not utter a word without laughing at the aunt's anxiety,
and so had to put off the narration till after my departure.
I went home about as fast as possible; desired to go to bed
immediately--never went before without being sent, and then not in a
very good mood. My mother followed me with a talk of "herb tea," and as
I thought I must have some "end to the farce," I agreed that a little
might do me good. My mother consequently brought me, I do believe, a
"Scripture measure" pint of bitter tea, which I hurriedly drank, as I
knew my sisters had already started for my grandmother's, to see how I
had been through the afternoon. When they returned, though I heard the
laughing and talking in the sitting-room below, I was, to all intents
and purposes, sound asleep and snoring.
No allusion was ever made to my demeanor. I went to school as usual,
and told the school-girls that I had had such a good time at my aunt's
the day before that I would never go there again "as long as I lived."
My grandmother and aunt died long ago. For years I had no reason to
believe that my afternoon's tragedy was known to any one. But once, not
long since, speaking of that clock, I said, "I'm glad it did not descend
to me;" when a friend replied, with a very knowing look, "So is your
grandmother!"