THE STRANGE RIDE.
The next summer Flaxie had a baby brother named Philip Lally Gray.
Flaxie said he was "as good as any of the rest of the family, and lots
better."
She loved him dearly; and perhaps it was in loving him that she learned
to become unselfish. By the time he was a year old, he had pulled her
hair, and scratched her face, and given her a great deal of trouble;
but the more he tried her patience, the more her patience grew.
"Really, she is almost as sweet as Ninny," said Mrs. Gray to her
husband.
When Philip was thirteen months old, he had no teeth, and Flaxie
grieved about it. Her own were falling out, and she wished she could
give them to her baby brother.
"Never mind," said Dr. Papa. "If he never has any teeth of his own, I
will buy him some gold ones."
"O, that'll be so nice," cried Flaxie. "I never saw any gold teeth in
all my life."
That year, late in September, Flaxie Frizzle went with her mamma and
baby Phil to the city of Louisville, in Kentucky, to see Grandpa and
Grandma Curtis. Dr. Gray staid at home with Ninny and Preston.
"Poor papa couldn't come, 'cause he has to give folks their mederson,"
explained Miss Frizzle, before she had taken off her bonnet in
grandma's parlor.
"Too bad," laughed pretty Grandma Curtis, who was ever and ever so
much younger than Grandma Pressy, and didn't even wear a cap. "But we
are glad he could send his little daughter."
No wonder she was glad! Flaxie was all pink and white, with a mouth
made up for kisses, and eyes laughing like the sky after a shower. The
colored girl, Venus, had never seen her before; but she loved her in a
moment, for Flaxie threw both arms around her neck and kissed her, like
a butterfly alighting on a black velvet rose.
But that night Flaxie did not seem quite well, and the next morning she
was worse; she could not even hold the baby.
"They're so glad I've got the mumps," said she, two or three days
afterward, as she lay on the sofa, with hot, swelled cheeks and parched
lips that tried to smile.
The remark was made to Peppermint Drop, the doll of her bosom; but
black Venus took it to herself.
"And what makes 'em glad you're sick?" said she.
"'Cause my mamma wants me to have the mumps all done, Venus, and then
she can go to my _'nother_ grandma's next week. I've got lots of
grandmas. She's going to see this one next week, and take the baby."
"Yes," said Venus, dusting the chairs; "and prob'ly if you get well
she'll take you too."
"No, O, no: she don't think's best," replied Flaxie, dropping a hot
tear on Peppermint Drop's bosom, which would have melted it a little
if it had been made of sugar instead of bran. "Grandma Hyde lives in
the _other_ town, 'way off, down where the boats go; and mamma says
she _can't_ take but one childrens. She's drefful sorry; but she don't
think best."
And the little girl dried her eyes on her doll's bib-apron; for she
heard some one coming, and didn't want to be a baby.
It was mamma, with Phil in her arms, fresh from his morning
bath, bright, wide-awake, and ready for mischief. His hair was
golden,--darker even now than Flaxie's,--and his eyes were the richest
brown.
"Shall I let him _go_?" asked mamma, as if he were a wild creature, and
they generally kept him in chains.
"Yes, mamma, let him go."
And, when she dropped her hold of him, he rushed at his sister, and
"hugged her grizzly," as she called it, like the most affectionate of
little bears.
"Won't Grandma Hyde be _exprised_ to see him? She'll love you and thank
you dearly," said Flaxie.
"I'm a little ashamed of him," laughed Mrs. Gray. "You know he has only
one tooth."
"Well, he hasn't much teeth, and he can't talk; but he can stand on his
head _so_ cunnin'! Phil want to go in boat? Want see Gamma Hyde, and
hug her grizzly?"
Was this our cross Flaxie? Indeed, she _was_ almost as sweet as
Ninny--sometimes!
When the day came for going to Shawneetown, where Grandma Hyde lived,
Flaxie had got her mumps "all done," and was allowed to ride down in a
hack to the "Jennie Howell," and see mamma off.
Little Phil wore a white dress and a soft white cloak, with silk
acorns and leaves embroidered all over it; and a white cap with a white
cockade set on top of his gold rings of hair. He looked like a prince;
and his mother called him, "'Philip, my King.'"
The last thing Flaxie saw him do was to throw kisses at a hen-coop
which somebody was putting on board the boat. He thought there were
chickens in it, and I suppose there were.
Flaxie looked rather sober as she rode back in the hack with Grandma
Curtis. "He never went to _Shawtown_ before," said she; "and he isn't
much 'quainted with strangers. I spect I ought to gone with him."
"I spect he'll get along beautifully," replied Grandma Curtis, hugging
Flaxie; "but, if you are needed, your mamma can send a dispatch, you
know."
She little thought Mrs. Gray would really send a dispatch.
Mrs. Gray and the baby steamed slowly down the Ohio,--very slowly; for
the water was so low that in many places you could see the bottom of
the river. Once the boat stuck fast for an hour or two on a sand-bar.
"I am glad it is not a snag," thought Mrs. Gray; "that would make me
afraid."
A snag is a dead tree; and, when the river is low, it sometimes scrapes
the bottom of the boat, and makes holes in it.
After supper she undressed Philly and put him in his little berth; for
they were not likely to reach Shawneetown, at this rate, before morning.
"They are all longing to see us," thought Mrs. Gray, kissing her
sleeping baby. Mrs. Hyde was her own mother, and they had not met for
two years. "O, yes, Philly, your grandma has a nice supper ready, and
your Aunt Floy has been at the window all the afternoon. How slowly we
do go. Hush, Philly, don't cry,--
'The owl and the pussy cat went to sea,
In a beautiful pea-green boat.'"
Philly dropped off to sleep at last. His mother put him in the upper
berth, and lay down herself on the lower berth, without undressing. She
was quiet and happy, listening to the baby's breathing, and thinking of
the griddle-cakes and honey grandma would give her for breakfast, when
suddenly she was roused by frightful screams.
The boat was leaking! A great snag, which stood up in the river like a
horned beast, had seized it and torn holes in its sides. It was of no
use trying to stop the leak; the boat was sinking fast; all that could
be done was to get out the people.
The captain and his men worked terribly, taking them off into
life-boats; but there was such a hurry and such a fright that it was
not possible to save everybody. Some of the passengers went down. Among
them were some bewildered little children, who did not know what had
happened till they woke in heaven, and the angels told them the story.
Mrs. Gray was one of the people saved; but where was her precious baby?
The men said they did not know, he was nowhere to be seen, and even his
little bed had been washed away!
"Go without Philly? Go without my baby? I can't do it, I _can't_ do
it," cried the poor mother.
But two of the good men seized her and dragged her into the life-boat.
They _would_ save her in spite of herself.
Dear Mrs. Gray, who had thought so much of seeing her mother and
sister, and showing them her baby! She was taken in a carriage with
the other passengers to Shawneetown, just where she had all the time
intended to go; but, O, what a sad meeting! Her mother and her sister
Floy met her at the door, not knowing what had happened.
"My baby is lost, my baby is lost!" wailed she, and fainted away in
Aunt Kitty's arms.
A dispatch was sent to Grandma Curtis at Louisville, and another to Dr.
Gray at Rosewood, New York. The poor doctor was wakened in the middle
of the night to learn that his little boy was drowned!
Morning came at last; it always comes. The sun shone too; it is just
as likely to shine when people are sad as when they are happy. But
what a long day it was to that wretched mother! What a long day to her
husband, who started before sunrise to go to meet her!
In the evening, before Dr. Gray could possibly get there, a strange man
called at Grandma Hyde's and asked if Mrs. Gray was in the house?
"She is," replied Aunt Floy, whose eyes were red with weeping. "I hope
you haven't any more bad news for her! She can't bear any more!"
"I don't believe it's bad news," replied the man, with something that
was almost a smile. "Did Mrs. Gray lose a child on the wreck of the
'Jennie Howell' last night?"
"Yes, sir, a baby. Speak low."
"Well," said the man, dropping his voice to a whisper, "I am pilot of
the 'Jennie Howell,' ma'am. I went down to look at her this morning;
and what should I see but a mattress, ma'am, floating in the cabin,
most up to the ceiling, and a live baby on top of it!"
"A live baby? O, not a _live_ baby!"
"Yes, ma'am, sleeping as sweet as a lamb! My wife has got him now over
here to the hotel--a pretty little yellow-haired shaver, as--"
"O, it's Philly! where is he? Bring him this minute! I know it's
Philly!"
And so it was; for, my dears, this is a true story. It was Philip Gray;
and he had been saved almost by a miracle. Was the finding of Moses in
the bulrushes so strange a thing as this?
His mother was driven to the hotel, where the pilot's wife sat in the
public parlor with a baby in her lap.
"O, my boy!" cried Mrs. Gray.
And he rushed into her arms with a gleeful shout,--her own precious
"'Philip my King.'"