O, we’ve hurrahed and hurrahed and hurrahed ourselves hoarse! Such a
bully time! You’d better believe the old horses went some! And that
hay-cart went rattle and bump, rattle and thump,--seemed as if we should
jolt to pieces! But I’ve counted myself all over, and believe I’m all
here! Bubby Short’s throat is so sore that all he can do is to lie flat
on the floor and wink his eyes. You see we cheered at every house, and
they came running to their windows, and some cheered back again, and
some waved and some laughed, and all of them stared. But part of the way
was through the woods.
This morning Billy and Bubby Short and I went over to Aunt Phebe’s of an
errand, to borrow a cup of dough. I wish mother could see how her stove
shines! And while we were sitting down there, having some fun with Aunt
Phebe’s little Tommy, Uncle Jacob came in and said, “Mother, let’s go
somewhere.”
She said, “Thank you! thank you! we shall be very happy to accept your
invitation. Girls, your father has given us an invitation! Boys, he
means you too!”
“But you can’t go,--can you?” Uncle Jacob cried out, and made believe he
didn’t know what to make of it. O, he’s such a droll man! “I thought
you couldn’t leave the ironing,” says he.
“O yes, we can!” Hannah Jane said; and “O yes, we can!” they all cried
out.
Aunt Phebe said it would be entirely convenient, and told her girls to
shake out the sprinkled clothes to dry.
“O, now,” said Uncle Jacob, “who’d have thought of your saying ‘yes.’ I
expected you couldn’t leave.”
Then they kept on talking and laughing. O, they are all so funny here!
Uncle Jacob tried to get off without going; but at last he said, “Well,
boys, we must catch Old Major.”
That’s the old gray horse, you know. And we were long enough about it.
For, just as we got him into a corner, he’d up heels, and away he’d go.
And once he slapped his tail right in my face. But after a while we got
him into the barn.
Then pretty soon Uncle Jacob put on a long face, and looked very sober,
and put his head in at the back kitchen door, and said he guessed we
should have to give up going, after all, for the mate to Old Major had
got to be shod, and the blacksmith had gone away.
“Harness in the colt, then,” Aunt Phebe said. “No matter about their
matching, if we only get there!”
That colt is about twenty years old. He’s black, and short, and takes
little stubby steps; and he’s got a shaggy mane, that goes flop, flop,
flop every step he takes. But Old Major is bony, and has a long neck,
like the nose of a tunnel. Such a span as they made! What would my
mother say to see that span!
They were harnessed in to the hay-cart. A hay-cart is a long cart that
has stakes stuck in all round it. We put boards across for benches. Aunt
Phebe brought out a whole armful of quite small flags, that they had
Independent Day, and we tied one to the end of every stake.
Such a jolly time as we did have getting aboard! First all the baskets
and pails full of cake and pies were stowed away under the benches, and
jugs of water, and bottles of milk, and a hatchet, and some boiled eggs,
and apples and pears. Then uncle called out, “Come! where is everybody?
Tumble in! tumble in! Where’s little Tommy?”
Then we began to look about and to call “Tommy!” “Tommy!” “Tommy!” At
last Bubby Short said, “There he is, up there!” We all looked up, and
saw Tommy’s face part way through a broken square of glass--I mean where
the glass was broken out. He said he couldn’t “tum down, betause the
_roosted_ was on his feets.” You see, he’d got his feet tangled up in
Lucy Maria’s worsteds.
“O dear!” Lucy Maria said; “all that shaded pink!”
When they brought him down, Uncle Jacob looked very sober, and said,
“Why, Tommy! Did you get into all that shaded pink?”
“Didn’t get in _all_ of it,” said Tommy. Then he told us he was taking
down the “gimmerlut to blower a hole with.” Next he began to cry for his
new hat; and when he got his new hat, he began to cry for a posy to be
stuck in it. That little fellow never will go anywhere without a flower
stuck in his hat. Aunt Phebe says his grandmother began that notion
when her damask rosebush was in bloom.
After we were all aboard, Uncle Jacob brought out the teakettle, and
slung it on behind with a rope. He said maybe mother would want a cup of
tea. Then they laughed at him, for he is the tea-drinker himself. Next
he brought out a long pan.
“Now that’s my cookie-pan!” Aunt Phebe said. “You don’t cook clams in my
cookie-pan!”
He made believe he was terribly afraid of Aunt Phebe, and trotted back
with it just like a little boy, and then came bringing out an old
sheet-iron fireboard.
“Is this anybody’s cookie-pan?” said he, then stowed it away in the
bottom of the cart. Bubby Short wanted to know what that was for.
“That’s for the clams,” Uncle Jacob said.
But we couldn’t tell whether he meant so. We never can tell whether
Uncle Jacob is funning or not. I haven’t told you yet where we were
bound. We were bound to the shore. That’s about six miles off. The last
thing that Uncle Jacob brought out was a stick that had strips of paper
tied to the end of it.
“That’s my flyflapper!” Aunt Phebe said. “What are you going to do with
my flyflapper?”
He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy’s face. Tommy is a
tip-top little chap; but he’s apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to
drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and
then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he
fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the
snarls off his face, and say, “There they go! Pick ’em up! pick ’em
up!” And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the
back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and
they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But
first he stood on his head, for ’t was quite a sandy place. I drove part
of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn’t hurrah any going. Some men
that we met would laugh and call out, “What’ll you take for your span?”
And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, “How are
_you_, teakettle?” I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that
ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw
Billy’s father coming, bringing Billy’s grandmother in a horse and
chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn’t
come.
When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for
there wasn’t a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to
us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I
carried the bucket. Isn’t it funny that clams live in the mud? How do
you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle
Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the
mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon
got the bucket full.
Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up
sticks and bits of boards. “Bring them where you see a smoke rising,”
says he.
O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet!
Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in a good way, and put his iron
fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams
on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of
anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard!
And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the
teakettle, and made a fire under it,--to make a cup of tea for mother,
he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the
teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side
where the wind wouldn’t blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy’s
grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions,
and shawls all over her, and Billy’s father read things out of the
newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn’t
work.
It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter
the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed
round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to
have shingles. You’d better believe those clams tasted good! Then all
the other things were passed round. O, I don’t believe any other woman
can make things as good as Aunt Phebe’s! Georgianna had a frosted
plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle
Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked
Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,--a great deal
better than Aunt Phebe’s girls. Then Georgianna would say, “O, I know
you! you want my frosted cake!” Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips
together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps
every body a-laughing, even Billy’s grandmother. He was just as clever
to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,--Aunt Phebe
don’t carry her good dishes, they get broken so,--and shocked out the
clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you’ll get
a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. ’T was fun
to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little
pools of water. And I found lots of _blanc-mange_ moss. We boys ran ever
so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn’t very cold.
When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart
pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand,
and blew it off on the water. Billy said, “Now the fishes can have a
pocket-handkerchief.” And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been
in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got ’em sopping wet.
Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the
shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave
us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle
Jacob hadn’t any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his
arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the
boat clapped.
O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and
rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped
squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live
fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I
suppose you don’t believe that! But it’s true, for I’ve seen them. In
the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don’t go to work and
build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees,
and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to
go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny,
something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And
every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a
real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my
squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got
quite close up,--near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to
run!
Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a
house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to
their windows to look, for there isn’t much travelling on that road. O,
I’m so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I’m sorry we’ve got home, I
wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over
at Aunt Phebe’s. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us
to come over. Bubby Short’s jumped up. He says his throat feels better
now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by,
sis. This letter is from your