[Illustration:
THE FOREST PICNIC. (_See page 123._)
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
The
Aimwell
Stories.
BY
Walter Aimwell.
Whistler
TAKE HEED WILL SURELY SPEED
Gould & Lincoln
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Aimwell Stories.
---------------------
WHISTLER;
OR,
THE MANLY BOY.
BY
WALTER AIMWELL,
AUTHOR OF “OSCAR,” “CLINTON,” “ELLA,” ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
BOSTON:
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
59 WASHINGTON STREET.
NEW YORK: SHELDON, BLAKEMAN & CO.
CINCINNATI: GEORGE S. BLANCHARD.
1857.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
Electro-Stereotyped by
G. J. STILES & COMPANY,
23 Congress Street, Boston.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
--------------
THE object of this book is to portray the character of the MANLY BOY—a
character that never fails to inspire love and esteem, if only it be
natural and genuine. That a youth may still be a real boy in his tastes,
his pursuits, and his feelings,—as every young lad certainly ought to
be,—and yet exhibit something of true manliness in his spirit and
deportment, will, it is hoped, be made manifest to the youngest mind, in
the story of WHISTLER.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
ADVERTISEMENT.
--------------
“PRECEPTS MAY LEAD, BUT EXAMPLES DRAW.”
--------------
“THE AIMWELL STORIES” are designed to portray some of the leading phases
of juvenile character, and to point out their tendencies to future good
and evil. This they undertake to do, by describing the quiet, natural
scenes and incidents of every-day life, in city and country, at home and
abroad, at school and upon the play-ground, rather than by resorting to
romantic adventures and startling effects. While their main object is to
persuade the young to lay well the foundations of their characters, to
win them to the ways of virtue, and to incite them to good deeds and
noble aims, the attempt is also made to mingle amusing, curious, and
useful information with the moral lessons conveyed. It is hoped that the
volumes will thus be made attractive and agreeable, as well as
instructive, to the youthful reader.
Each volume of the “Aimwell Stories” will be complete and independent of
itself, although a connecting thread will run through the whole series.
The order of the volumes, so far as completed, is as follows:
I. OSCAR; OR, THE BOY WHO HAD HIS OWN WAY.
II. CLINTON; OR, BOY-LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.
III. ELLA; OR, TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF.
IV. WHISTLER; OR, THE MANLY BOY.
V. MARCUS; OR, THE BOY-TAMER. (_In Preparation._)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
--------------
CHAPTER I.
A VACATION JOURNEY.
PAGE
The last bell—The man who was too 17
late—Underway—Going down the
harbor—Whistler—How he came by his
name—Mr. Preston—Ella and
Emily—Supper—Scrabbling and
rudeness—An overheard remark—How
American voracity strikes a
foreigner—Whistler’s
resolution—Turning in—The berths—The
boot-black—Lying awake—Morning
naps—The river—Pleasant
scenery—Breakfast at the tavern—The
stage-coach ride—Cross
Roads—Clinton—The journey’s end,
CHAPTER II.
LOOKING ABOUT.
The Davenport family—Whistler’s 28
cousins—Surveying the premises—The
house—The shop—Tools—Clinton’s
skill—The barn—Rye—Verdancy—The
swine—Clinton’s fowls—How he managed
them—The patch of corn—A partnership
proposed—The other side of the
account—The kitchen garden—Working on
shares—The secret of Clinton’s
success—His studies—The ducks and
their home—Geography of Brookdale—Map
of the town,
CHAPTER III.
Clinton’s chamber—The furniture—The 41
writing-desk—The library—The
schooner—Pictures—Lessons
suspended—Plans about
work—Morning—Milking—A talk about the
cows—Daisy’s uneasiness—Conversation
suspended—Breakfast—Impromptu
rhymes—Clinton’s favorite song—The
turkeys and
hens—Weeding—Witch-grass—Difficulty of
exterminating it—An imagined moral—A
habit of Whistler’s father—The toad—A
cruel act—Ending his misery—Whistler’s
thoughtlessness—Toads not
poisonous—The good they do—How the
boys serve them—Tame toads—How they
eat—“Spitting fire” a vulgar
notion—How the toad disposes of his
old coat—Clinton’s authority for his
statement—The morning’s work
completed,
CHAPTER IV.
AN AFTERNOON’S EXCURSION.
A walk—The Prestons—A strawberry 56
party—The swamp—Ella’s
timidity—Snakes—Foolish
prejudices—Poison ivy—The
woodbine—Difference between them—How
Whistler fastened it in his mind—The
law of the association of ideas—A
poison vine found—Temerity and
timidity—Susceptibility to
poison—Poison dogwood—Its
effects—Description of the
plant—Poisonous plants do not bear
beautiful flowers—The strawberry
patch—Poor picking—The boys go
further—Woods and hills—Bald Peak—A
fine view—How far one can see in
Boston—The other side of the hills—The
report of a gun—A solitary place—A
sportsman—Scaring the game—A rough
salutation—An ill-favored fellow—A few
questions—The man’s lameness—His
account of himself—A favor asked—A
difficulty—A secret divulged—Clinton’s
promise—A threat—They separate—What
Clinton knew about the man—Driving the
cows home,
CHAPTER V.
THE ACCIDENT.
A rainy day—The hay-cutter—Blood—A 74
mutilated finger—The missing piece—The
first outburst of grief—The tip
replaced—Sympathy—The
doctor—Encouraging words—The case of
instruments—Sewing the piece
on—Whistler’s heroic endurance of
pain—Praise—Directions—The fire—A sad
loss—The missing horse—The work of a
villain—Suspicions—Tom Walker—The
public security diminished—A visit to
the ruins—The two babies—A good
retort—How the finger got
along—Writing home—An unpleasant
duty—An intimation of
carelessness—Whistler’s
sensitiveness—Clinton’s defence—His
device for making the hay-cutter
safe—Its successful operation—The
letter mailed—Going to bed—Some
speculations about Dick
Sneider—Suspicions—A restless night,
CHAPTER VI.
A LITERARY ENTERPRISE.
Whistler’s wounded finger—Threshing—A 89
dialogue wanted—A proposal—The
picnic—Declamation—Hunting for a
subject—Poor success—A new idea—The
dialogue completed—The story on which
it was founded—The quarrel—A
surprise—The master’s reproof—The
mutual flogging—Satisfaction—Forced
reconciliation—The “kiss of
peace”—Laughter and shame—Arrangements
for a rehearsal—Spouting Hollow—A talk
with Mr. Davenport about the
dialogue—He reads it—The boys’
suspense—His opinion of its literary
merits—His objections to it—The
fighting scene—Moral influence of such
spectacles—Difference between written
descriptions and stage performances of
obnoxious scenes—Errors of the
teacher—The general effect bad—Chagrin
and disappointment—An unguarded
remark—Whistler’s spirit
aroused—Another trial—A subject
found—The task finished—The rehearsal,
CHAPTER VII.
THE INCENDIARY.
Driving a nail—How to prevent 107
splitting—Wetting nails—Mr. Walker’s
arrival—News—The stolen horse
found—The suspected rogue—Clinton’s
disclosures—Mr. Walker’s temper—A
furious outbreak—Mrs. Davenport’s
interference—Mitigating
circumstances—Whistler’s courage
reviving—Clinton’s threat—The folly of
flying into a passion—Tears—Mr.
Davenport—His regrets—Whistler’s
generous confession—One of Clinton’s
failings—His defence—Want of
reflection—Thinking an action right
does not make it so—Searching
questions—Compulsory promises—They are
binding, if right in themselves—Wrong
promises not binding—The rule
applied—Clinton convicted—Consequences
of not thinking—A volunteer
defence—The heads of the “brief”—The
judgment softened—The lost horse—The
lesson,
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FOREST PICNIC.
An early turn out—Morning work—Starting 122
for the picnic—The church—The
rendezvous—The procession—The forest
road—The falls—The grove—A talk about
Oscar—His letter—Account of his
history—Games and
amusements—Preparations for
speaking—The log cabin—Its
interior—The exercises—The dialogue of
“The Rival Speakers”—A dispute—They
both begin—Interruptions—Ludicrous
imitations—A coincidence—More
beginnings and
interruptions—Coaxings—How the
Irishman and his wife divided the
house—Tom’s withdrawal—Sam’s
impudence—His breakdown—Inglorious
retreat—The authors’ suspense—Their
triumph—The
intermission—Congratulations—Mr.
Walker—His commendation—His
apology—How the boys received
it—Burdens removed—Injuries sink
deeper than apologies—The
dinner—Speeches—Going a
blueberrying—The ride home—Five miles
of talk—Silence—What Clinton was
thinking of—His question proposed—Why
it was not proposed sooner—Mr.
Davenport’s explanation—A
distinction—Sam’s character—Clinton
satisfied—Arrival home,
CHAPTER IX.
THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK.
A shrunken arm—Importance of exercise—An 143
exciting discovery—Slaughter of the
fowls—An ungracious crow—Curiosity
excited—Speculations—Depredations of
skunks—Lack of vigilance—A bounty
offered—Burying the dead—Something
about skunks—The trap—The wolf and
deer—Chased by a wolf—The wolf and the
sheep—Bears—A trip to the logging
camp—Uncle Tim’s story—Depredations in
the cornfield—The trap
unsuccessful—Watching for the
beast—His tragic end—Bruin and the
boy—A juvenile hero—A neighborly
visit—Wild-cats—Two kinds—A fight with
a wild-cat—A walk to Mr. Preston’s—His
opinion of the affair—Ella’s
timidity—Quizzing—The nooning—Clinton
not much affected by his loss—How a
man may gain by his losses—Mr.
Davenport’s experience—Our happiness
not dependent on money—Our
stewardship—Clinton’s money not his
own—Debt due his parents—Their legal
claim upon his earnings—Man’s
dependence—Clinton’s pecuniary
loss—His accounts—His profits—Setting
the trap,
CHAPTER X.
THE HOMEWARD TRIP.
Why the wild-cat was not caught—A long 166
storm—The dissected map—How it was
made—A pleasant and profitable
diversion—Preparations for going
home—The trap returned—Whistler’s
attachment for his Brookdale
friends—The hour of parting—The ride
to the Cross Roads—The stage coach—The
train—The locomotive—Clinton’s
knowledge of steam engines—View from
the car windows—A talk about a cross
engineer—Bad and good traits—The
engineer’s responsibility—Who takes
the credit, and who the blame—Some of
the engineer’s duties—High speed—What
a locomotive might do without a
master—A runaway engine, and how it
was stopped—Another runaway—A
frightful race—Fortunate
termination—Tediousness of railroad
travelling—Attention attracted by the
train—The boys on the water—The dog,
horse, sheep, cow, &c.—Arrival at
Boston—Ralph,
CHAPTER XI.
THE CITY HOME.
Morning—First 179
impressions—Bouncer—Whistler’s frolic
and talk with him—Bouncer’s message to
Clinton—The view from the
windows—Blocks of
buildings—Description of Whistler’s
home—His chamber—How it was
furnished—Whistler’s father—A loud
summons—A quiet joke—The
dining-room—Breakfast—Conversation—Boston
sights—Three strange rules for a
country boy—Clinton’s
perplexity—Whistler’s attempt to
relieve him—Mr. Davenport’s early
“greenness”—His brother’s rebukes—His
reply—Clinton’s decision—City
greenhorns—Whistler and the cows—A
good rejoinder—Ettie’s queer
question—A talk about cows—Mr.
Davenport’s twofold motive—The golden
mean,
CHAPTER XII.
ROMANCE AND REALITY.
A day’s ramble about town—Strange sights 191
and sounds—Fatigue—The alarm of
fire—Where it came from—General
indifference to it—The fire engine—The
boys at home—Ettie and her dissected
map—Queer transformations—Description
of the fire-alarm telegraph—The signal
stations—The central office—How the
bells are struck—Its value—Mr.
Davenport’s questions—His fatigue—A
comparison between city and country
workers—Whistler’s anticipated
farm—Playful retort—Romance of the
farm—All men not made for
farmers—Other pursuits necessary—The
great mistake—A dry but important
subject—Clinton’s choice of a
profession—Why he would like to be a
merchant—Romantic notions of
mercantile life—The other
side—Practical application—The summing
up—A few first principles of political
economy—A legal opinion without a fee,
CHAPTER XIII.
SIGHT-SEEING.
School—The tramp begun—Dogs—The 206
dog-cart—The image dealer—The released
bird—An unnecessary piece of
information—How received—The
invitation—The birds—A surprise—The
Common—A beautiful scene—The
fountain—View of it—Its various
jets—Vast quantity of water required
to feed it—Changing the jet—The great
elm—A new acquaintance—A proposal
accepted—The State House—A journey to
its top—The lantern—A magnificent
view—The descent—Clinton’s wanderings
in unknown regions—A discovery—How he
happened to get turned round—Safe
arrival—A laugh over the adventure—The
distracted Quaker—The bewildered boy,
CHAPTER XIV.
SCHOOL TRIALS.
Whistler’s first day at school—Unhappy 224
recollections—A severe
disappointment—Interview with his
father—Why Whistler did not get into
the high school—He is acquitted of
blame—His reluctance to return to his
old school—His character as a
scholar—A failure the first
day—Mortification—A commission from
the teacher—Its acceptance—Clinton’s
puzzle—The drawings commenced—A
difficult task—Whistler’s ambition
aroused—Clinton’s visit to the
school—An insulting nickname proposed
for a new scholar—Whistler’s
interference in his behalf—He is
himself attacked—His self-control—What
David had to take—A kind word from
Whistler—A challenge—How Whistler
treated it—The young bully’s cowardice
exposed—The school exercises—The
principal’s story—The sick boy—His
first appearance at school—A mean
assailant—A gallant defender—The story
brought home to the school—The verdict
of the scholars on the conduct of the
boys—Who the real dunce is—Difference
between learning easily and studying
hard—Who the most promising scholar
is—Juvenile dulness of famous
men—School dismissed,
CHAPTER XV.
LESSONS IN PHYSIOLOGY.
The drawings finished—A short school 243
lecture—Sitting and standing—The
proper position—Two illustrations—The
sitting position illustrated—Curious
mechanism of the backbone—How it
becomes distorted—Effect of stooping
upon the lungs—An experiment or
two—Keeping the arms on a
level—Ettie’s kitten—Whistler’s
joke—The kitten missed—The
search—Whistler’s sad discovery—Policy
of keeping it secret—A good rule
remembered—A wise
decision—Confession—Whistler’s
thoughtlessness—Ettie’s grief,
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PRESTON FAMILY.
A request—A rule of the house—The 256
Preston children—Oscar and
Whistler—Marcus—Plans for Oscar’s
benefit—A letter from Brookdale—Dick
Sneider arrested—The wild-cat—Jumping
at a conclusion—Unexpected meeting of
Clinton and Oscar—A good
resolution—Going to the academy—Marcus
invited to become a teacher—Showing
favors to relatives—Ronald—Marcus the
making of him—Bad French—Ronald’s
roguery—Getting into a tight
place—Alarming and ludicrous
predicament—His release—The visit to
Montpelier—Ronald in handcuffs—A sorry
joke—Fortunate escape—Another boy in
another kind of handcuffs—The
advertisement for a boy—An amusing
answer—Fetters of ignorance—The other
applicants—A neat letter—A
recognition—A chance
acquaintance—Favorable impressions—A
pleasant visit,
CHAPTER XVII.
A WATER EXCURSION.
A sailing party—A damper—Permission 272
obtained—A struggle—Noble
self-denial—Commendation—Planning a
reward—The guests invited—Henry—The
birthday present—The
yacht—Starting—Collisions—Beating
out—The steamship—Fine
views—Life-preservers—Dodging the
boom—A narrow escape—The cabin—The
table—Berths—The cook-room—Castle
Island—Homeward-bound ship—Long Island
Light—Extra clothing—Dinner—Sudden
departures from the table—The
ocean—The screw steamer—George’s
Island—Fort Warren—The sea
wall—Landing—Entrance to the fort—The
enclosure—Ascending the parapets—Cost
of the fortress—Its entire command of
the harbor—Places for the
guns—Interior of the fortress—How the
guns are worked—Rooms for the
soldiers—Strength of the fortress—How
it might be taken—A wish—The sail
back—Defence of the “Echo”—An impudent
schooner—The skipper’s disgust—A
nautical insult—Landing,
CHAPTER XVIII.
LAST DAY OF THE VISIT.
The group around the fire—No tidings 294
from Jerry—What Whistler had
learned—The three hardest words—Candid
confession of a great
general—Confessing errors requires
bravery—Another fact learned—The boys’
petition for shorter
lessons—Whistler’s refusal to sign
it—His motives impugned—Boyish
intolerance—Effects of the petition on
the teacher—Its disrespectful
tone—Character of the signers—Public
reading of their names—A secret
honorably kept—Clinton’s opinion of
the city—Opportunities—Too much
assistance—How strong characters are
produced—The learned blacksmith—The
learned shoemaker—What can be done in
one hour a day—The extract—A higher
aim than success—Character—How it is
formed—Compared to a cable—Conclusion,
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Illustrations.
--------------
THE FOREST PICNIC, FRONTISPIECE
VIGNETTE, TITLE PAGE
THE STEAMER, 19
THE FARM-HOUSE, 30
MAP OF BROOKDALE, 40
THE GUNNER, 68
CLINTON THRESHING, 90
THE FOREST ROAD, 124
UNCLE TIM AND THE BEAR, 154
SALUTING THE TRAIN, 177
THE DOG CART, 207
THE IMAGE VENDER, 208
THE FOUNTAIN, 213
WRONG STANDING POSITION, 245
RIGHT STANDING POSITION, 245
WRONG SITTING POSITION, 246
RIGHT SITTING POSITION, 247
STEAMSHIP, 279
HOW THE CABLE IS MADE, 307
------------------------------------------------------------------------
WHISTLER.
----------
CHAPTER I.
A VACATION JOURNEY.
THE steamer’s bell is pealing forth its last call. The huge, hot engine,
as if impatient of delay, seems hissing at every joint, while the dark
clouds that roll up from its smoke-pipes tell of the activity of the
sweltering firemen below. The hawser is cast off. A tardy passenger or
two are hurried over the gangway, and their baggage sent after them with
more celerity than care. A carriage, driven at a furious rate, is coming
down the wharf, and a man’s head and arm are thrust out of the
window,—the arm “sawing the air” in a most vehement manner. But his
gesticulations are in vain. The gangway is drawn in on deck; the wheels
slowly move; the steamer gently swings away from her moorings; and by
the time the carriage is abreast of her, six yards of foam-covered water
separate the would-be passenger from the crowded deck. A general
half-suppressed laugh from the crowd on the wharf and the steamer
reminds the unhappy straggler that there is something ridiculous, as
well as provoking, in being a little too late; and, seeking refuge in
the carriage, he is leisurely driven off, to be again laughed at,
perchance, when he reaches the home he had lately left in such hot
haste.
The steamer has now got clear of the vessels moored around her, and
begins to move with greater speed. So easy is the motion, it would not
be difficult for those on board to imagine that the wharf itself had
hoisted sail, and parted company with the steamer, to take a turn about
the harbor on its own account. Little groups on shore and on board the
boat are exchanging farewells by the waving of hats and handkerchiefs.
But soon the distance becomes too great for recognition; wharves and
warehouses mingle together; the city assumes a crowded and compact look,
and finally resolves itself into that beautiful panorama which Boston
presents when viewed from the sea. Even this view soon fades, and is
lost; for the steamer is now far down the harbor, gallantly ploughing
her way through the dark-blue waters.
[Illustration]
Among the passengers who were enjoying the scene from the upper, or
hurricane deck, might have been seen a gentleman and three children, who
appeared to be intent upon missing no object of interest. The largest of
the children was a bright and pleasant looking boy of fourteen. His name
was William Davenport; but he was frequently called Willie, and still
oftener Whistler, by his young associates. This latter name he acquired
when several years younger, being indebted for it to his whistling
talents, which were really quite clever. He rather liked the nickname;
and, indeed, had become so accustomed to it, that even “Willie” did not
sound quite natural, and “Bill” was altogether out of the question. You
must not suppose, however, that he was one of those whistling bores who
give our ears no rest from their shrill pipings, either in house or in
street. On the contrary, he was rather chary of his music,—perhaps more
so than he would have been but for his nickname, which put him on his
guard against spending too much of his breath in this manner. But, then,
he _could_ whistle beautifully when he chose to; and, as he had a quick
ear for music, he caught all the new and popular airs of the day, which
made his performances still more pleasant to the listener. Whistler we
shall call him, therefore, in imitation of his comrades. He belonged in
Boston, and was now on his way to a distant town in Maine, where he was
to spend his summer vacation with the family of his uncle.
The gentleman who was with Whistler was Mr. Preston. He was a stout,
sun-burnt, and plainly-dressed man, and was on his way home from a visit
to Boston, with his eldest daughter, Emily, a girl of thirteen. The
other girl, who was a few months younger, was Ella Preston, a cousin of
Emily, who lived in Boston, and was now on her way to her uncle’s home
in Brookdale. It was in this same town that Whistler’s uncle lived; and
being well acquainted with Ella, he had arranged to make the journey in
company with her little party.
It was a mild August evening, and the sea was calm. Mr. Preston and the
children remained upon the deck until the supper-bell sounded, when they
went down into the cabin, and found a long table spread, around which
the hungry passengers were crowding and pushing, without much regard to
manners, or even decency. It was with some difficulty that Mr. Preston
procured seats for the children; and even then the difficulty was but
half overcome, for it required a good deal of effort, not to say
rudeness, to obtain enough to eat, so ravenous and selfish were the
company, and so limited was the supply upon the table. The meal was
swallowed, and the cabin vacated, in about ten minutes. Shortly after,
as Whistler was walking about, he overheard a few remarks between two
gentlemen, that set him to thinking. From their appearance, and their
peculiar accent, he concluded they were foreign gentlemen, travelling
for pleasure.
“You did not witness the feeding of the animals?” said one of the
gentlemen, who had just come up from the cabin.
“No,” said the other, “I have no taste for such exhibitions. I took the
precaution to drink my tea before I came on board.”
“Well, sir,” added the first speaker, “I’ve breakfasted with the Turks,
I’ve dined with the Arabs, I’ve supped with the Chinese, and I’ve eaten
with nearly all the nations of Europe; but, sir, I must say that I never
met with such a greedy, scrabbling set of gormandizers as I have found
in this country. Why, sir, they seize and devour their food like wild
beasts. They shovel it down whole, sir, just as a dog bolts his meat. I
only wonder that these Yankees do not dispense with knives and forks
altogether. Yes, sir, those implements of a civilized table seem
altogether out of place in their hands.”
This was all that Whistler heard. The unpleasant American habit which so
disgusted this gentleman, and which is often glaringly conspicuous in
our hotels and steamboats, has been justly censured with great severity
by foreigners who have visited us. Whistler had himself observed the
rude and greedy conduct at the table; but he supposed such scenes were
always enacted when large numbers of people got together to eat. Now,
however, he had learned that it was a peculiarly American
characteristic; and, perceiving how it was viewed by intelligent and
well-bred foreigners, his pride and patriotism were both touched, and he
made up his mind that he would never be guilty of such rudeness, either
at a public or a private table.
The air was now becoming damp and chilly, and little could be seen
beyond the steamer’s decks, save the occasional flash of some distant
lighthouse. The passengers began to disappear, some seeking out
sheltered nooks in the stern, and others retiring to the saloons and
berths. Mr. Preston gave Emily and Ellen in charge to the stewardess,
who conducted them to their berths in the ladies’ saloon; while himself
and Whistler soon after turned in to their own quarters in the
gentlemen’s cabin. The saloons were lined on each side with berths
arranged in three tiers. Each berth was furnished with bedding, and
screened in front by a drapery curtain. The two selected by Mr. Preston,
though not favorite ones in their location, were the best that were not
engaged when he bought his tickets. One of them was an upper berth; and,
as Whistler was the lightest and nimblest of the two, it was assigned to
him, while Mr. Preston took the other, directly beneath him.
Following the example of others, Whistler put off his shoes, jacket and
shirt-collar, and climbed into his lofty and narrow sleeping-place.
Here, partially concealed by his curtain, he amused himself by watching
the movements of his fellow-passengers, and listening to their remarks.
When Mr. Preston, who had been reading a newspaper, got ready to retire,
he picked up Whistler’s shoes from the floor, and told him to put them
on a shelf over the berth, if he did not want “Boots” to get them. This
personage, he afterwards explained, was a colored man, who gathered up
all the boots and shoes he could find in the night, and cleaned them,
charging each of the respective owners a ninepence (the ninepence is
twelve and a half cents in New England) for his services. As Whistler’s
shoes did not need to undergo this process, his friend was probably
justified in thus interfering with the legitimate business of the
aforesaid “Boots.”
The novelty of his position, the glare of the saloon lamps, and the
noise of the machinery, made it rather difficult for Whistler to get to
sleep. The ocean was so smooth, however, that he felt no symptoms of
seasickness; and he was very well contented to lie awake in his berth,
so long as he was not troubled with this distressing malady, from which
he had once suffered quite severely while sailing in the harbor. But, in
spite of all disturbing influences, he was favored with several good
naps towards morning, from one of which he awoke, and discerned the gray
light of morning through a small window over his berth. He lowered
himself down from his elevated bed, and went on deck, when he found that
the steamer had already entered the river, the banks of which were
scarcely visible through the heavy mist with which the atmosphere was
loaded. Ella and Emily soon made their appearance, and declared that
their first night on the ocean was anything but disagreeable. The fog
rapidly disappeared before the sun; and, as they advanced up the river,
the scenery became more interesting, so that their attention was
constantly occupied, until Mr. Preston informed them that they had
reached their landing-place.
Our travellers were still forty miles from Brookdale; but the rest of
the journey was to be by land. On landing, they went directly to the
village tavern, where they found a good breakfast awaiting them, to
which, however, they could devote but a very few minutes, for the stage
coach was waiting. Having made as large a draft on the driver’s patience
as they deemed prudent, they took their seats in the vehicle, and
resumed their journey. For a while, the children found much to interest
them in the country through which they passed; but it soon became an old
story; and before they had climbed half of the hills that separated them
from Brookdale, the inquiries were frequently heard,—
“How far have we got to go, _now_, Mr. Preston? Haven’t we come more
than half way? Shan’t we get there before noon?”
As the stage coach did not pass through Brookdale, passengers for that
village were obliged to leave it at a place called the Cross Roads,
about five miles distant, and find their way over as best they could. It
was noon when our party reached this stopping-place. As they alighted, a
boy about fourteen years old stepped up to Mr. Preston, who introduced
him to Ella and Whistler as Clinton Davenport. The two boys were
cousins; but they had never seen each other before. It seemed that
Clinton, knowing they were expected, had gone over to the Cross Roads
after them, with a wagon. A drive of five miles through a pleasant road
brought them to their journey’s end. They were in Brookdale.
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