FOURTH OF JULY MISADVENTURES--TROUBLE IN THE PISTOL POCKET--
THE GROCERY MAN'S CAT--THE BAD BOY A MINISTERING ANGEL--
ASLEEP ON THE FOURTH OF JULY--GOES WITH HIS GIRL TO THE
SOLDIER'S HOME--TERRIBLE FOURTH. OF JULY MISADVENTURES--THE
GIRL WHO WENT OUT COMES BACK A BURNT OFFERING.
“Here, condemn you, you will pay for that cat,” said the grocery man to
the bad boy, as he came in the store all broke up, the morning after the
4th of July.
“What cat?” said the boy as he leaned against the zinc ice box to cool
his back, which had been having trouble with a bunch of fire crackers in
his pistol pocket. “We haven't ordered any cat from here. Who ordered any
cat sent to our house? We get our sausage at the market,” and the boy
rubbed some cold cream on his nose and eyebrows where the skin was off.
“Yes, that is all right enough,” said the grocery man, “but somebody
who knew where that cat slept, in the box of sawdust, back of the store,
filled it full of firecrackers, Wednesday forenoon, when I was out to
see the procession, and never notified the cat, and touched them off,
and the cat went through the roof of the shed, and she hasn't got
hair enough left on her to put in tea. Now, you didn't show up all the
forenoon, and I went and asked your Ma where you was, and she said you
had been sitting up four nights straight along with a sick boy in the
Third Ward, and you was sleeping all the forenoon the 4th of July. If
that is so, that lets you out on the cat, but it don't stand to reason.
Own up, now, was you asleep all the forenoon, the 4th, while other boys
were celebrating, or did you scorch my cat?” and the grocery man looked
at the boy as though he would believe every word he said, if he _was_
bad.
“Well, said the bad boy as he yawned as though he had been up all night,
“I am innocent of sitting up with your cat, but I plead guilty
to sitting up with Duffy. You see, I am bad, and it don't make any
difference where I am, and Duffy thumped me once when we were playing
marbles, and I said I would get even with him some time. His Ma washes
for us, and when she told me that her boy was sick with fever, and had
nobody to stay with him while she was away, I thought it would be a good
way to get even with Duffy, when he was weak, and I went down there to
his shanty and gave him his medicine, and read to him all day, and he
cried 'cause he knew I ought to have mauled him, and that night I sat up
with him while his Ma did the ironing, and Duffy was so glad that I went
down every day and stayed there every night, and fired medicine down
him, and let his Ma sleep, and Duffy has got mashed on me, and he says I
will be an angel when I die. Last night makes five nights I have sat up
with him, and he has got so he can eat beef tea and crackers. My girl
went back on me 'cause she said I was sitting up with some other girl.
She said that Duffy story was too thin, but Duffy's Ma was washing at
my girl's house and she proved what I said, and I was all right again.
I slept all the forenoon the 4th, and then stayed with Duffy till 4
o'clock, and got a furlough and took my girl to the Soldiers' Home. I
had rather set up with Duffy, though.”
“O, get out. You can't make me believe you had rather stay in a sick
room and set up with a boy, than to take a girl to the 4th of July,”
said the grocery man, as he took a brush and wiped the saw dust off some
bottles of peppersauce that he was taking out of a box. “You didn't
have any trouble with the girl, did you?” “No,--not with her,” said
the boy, as he looked into the little round zinc mirror to see if his
eyebrows were beginning to grow. “But her Pa is so unreasonable. I think
a man ought to know better than to kick a boy right where he has had a
pack of firecrackers explode in his pocket. You see, when I brought the
girl back home, she was a wreck. Don't you ever take a girl to the 4th
of July. Take the advice of a boy who has had experience. We hadn't more
than got to the Soldier's Home grounds before some boys who were playing
tag grabbed hold of my girl's crushed-strawberry polonaise and ripped it
off. That made her mad, and she wanted me to take offense at it, and I
tried to reason with the boys and they both jumped on me, and I see the
only way to get out of it honorably, was to get out real spry, and I got
out. Then we sat down under a tree, to eat lunch, and my girl swallowed
a pickle the wrong way, and I pounded her on the back, the way Ma does
when I choke, and she yelled, and a policeman grabbed me and shook me,
and asked me what I was hurting that poor girl for, and told me if I did
it again he would arrest me. Everything went wrong.”
[Illustration: Fourth of July misadventures 178]
“After dark somebody fired a Roman candle into my girl's hat, and set it
on fire, and I grabbed the hat and stamped on it, and spoiled the hair
her Ma bought her. By gosh, I thought her hair was curly, but when the
wig was off, her hair was as straight as could be. But she was purty,
all the same. We got under another tree, to get away from the smell of
burned hair, and a boy set off a niger chaser, and it ran right at my
girl's feet, and burned her stockings, and a woman put the fire out for
her, while I looked for the boy that fired the niger chaser, but I did'nt
want to find him. She was pretty near a wreck by that time, though she
had all her dress left except the polonaise, and we went and sat under a
tree in a quiet place, and I put my arm around her and told her never
to mind the accidents, cause it would be dark when we got home, and
just then a spark dropped down through the trees and fell in my pistol
pocket, right next to her, where my bunch of fire crackers was, and they
began to go off. Well, I never saw such a sight as she was. Her dress
was one of these mosquito bar, cheese cloth dresses, and it burned just
like punk. I had presence of mind enough to roll her on the grass and
put out the fire, but in doing that I neglected my own conflagration,
and when I got her put out, my coat tail and trousers were a total loss.
_My_, but she looked like a goose that had been picked, and I looked
like a fireman that fell through a hatchway. My girl wanted to go home,
and I took her home, and her pa was setting on the front steps, and he
wouldn't accept her, looking that way. He said he placed in my possession
a whole girl, clothed in her right mind, and I had brought back a burnt
offering. He teaches in our Sunday-school, and knows how to talk
pious, but his boots are offul thick. I tried to explain that I was not
responsible for the fireworks, and that he could bring in a bill against
the government and I showed him how I was bereaved of a coat tail and
some pants, but he wouldn't reason at all, and when his foot hit me I
thought it was the resurrection, sure, and when I got over the fence,
and had picked myself up I never stopped till I got to Duffy's and I
set up with him, cause I thought her pa was after me, and I thought
he wouldn't enter a sick room and maul a watcher at the bedside of an
invalid. But that settles it with me about celebrating. I don't care if
we _did_ whip the British, after declaring independence, I don't want my
pants burnt off. What is the declaration of independence good for to a
girl who looses her polonaise, and has her hair burnt off, and a nigger
chaser burning her stockings? No, sir, they may talk about the glorious
4th of July, but will it bring back that blonde wig, or re-tail my coat?
Hereafter I am a rebel, and I will go out in the woods the way Pa does,
and come home with a black eye, got in a rational way.
“What, did your Pa get a black eye, too? I hadn't heard about that,”
said the grocery man, giving the boy a handful of unbaked peanuts to
draw him out. “Didn't get to fighting, did he?”
“No, Pa don't fight. It is wrong, he says, to fight, unless you are
sure you can whip the fellow, and Pa always gets whipped, so he quit
fighting. You see, one of the deacons in our church lives out on a farm,
and his folks were going away to spend the 4th, and he had to do all the
chores, so he invited Pa and Ma to come out to the farm and have a nice
quiet time, and they went. There is nothing Pa likes better than to go
out on a farm, and pretend he knows everything. When the farmer got Pa
and Ma out there he set them to work, and Ma shelled peas while Pa went
to dig potatoes for dinner. I think it was mean for the deacon to send
Pa out in the corn field to dig potatoes, and set the dog on Pa, and
tree him in an apple tree near the bee hives, and then go and visit
with Ma and leave Pa in the tree with the dog barking at him. Pa said
he never knew how mean a deacon could be, until he had sat on a limb of
that apple tree all the afternoon. About time to do chores the farmer
came and found Pa, and called the dog off, and Pa came down, and then
the farmer played the meanest trick of all. He said city people didn't
know how to milk cows, and Pa said he wished he had as many dollars
as he knew how to milk cows. He said his spechulty was milking kicking
cows, and the farmer gave Pa a tin pail and a milking stool and let down
the bars, and pointed out to Pa 'the worst cow on the place.' Pa knew
his reputation was at stake, and he went up to the cow and punched it in
the flank and said, “hist, confound you.” Well, the cow wasn't a histing
cow, but a histing bull, and Pa knew it was a bull as quick as he see
it put down its head and beller, and Pa dropped the pail and stool and
started for the bars, and the bull after Pa. I don't think it was right
in Ma to bet two shillings with the farmer that Pa would get to the bars
before the bull did, though she won the bet. Pa said he knew it was a
bull just as soon as the horns got tangled up in his coat tail, and when
he struck on the other side of the bars, and his nose hit the ash barrel
where they make lye for soap, Pa said he saw more fireworks than we did
at the Soldier's Home, Pa wouldn't celebrate any more, and he came home,
after thanking the farmer for his courtesies, but he wants me to borrow
a gun and go out with him hunting. We are going to shoot a bull and a
dog, and some bees, may be we will shoot the farmer, if Pa keeps on as
mad as he is now. Well, we won't have another 4th of July for a year,
and may be by that time my girl's polonaise and hair will grow out, and
that bull may become gentle, so Pa can milk it. Ta-ta.”