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AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG.
VOL V.
JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE, ETC.
BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT,
AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL," "LITTLE MEN,"
"HOSPITAL SKETCHES."
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1880.
_Copyright_,
BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
1879.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SIR JOSEPH PORTER, K.C.B.]
I am the monarch of the Sea,
The ruler of the Queen's Navee,--
When at anchor here I ride,
My bosom swells with pride,
And I snap my fingers at a foeman's taunts.
[Illustration: COUSIN HEBE.]
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts
His sisters and his cousins!
Whom he reckons by the dozens,
And his aunts!
[Illustration: RALPH RACKSTRAW.]
"I am the lowliest tar
That sails the water.
And you, proud maiden, are
My captain's daughter."
[Illustration: JOSEPHINE.]
"Refrain, audacious tar.
Your suit from pressing;
Remember what you are,
And whom addressing."
[Illustration: LITTLE BUTTERCUP.]
For I am called Little Buttercup,--dear Little Buttercup,
Though I never could tell why;
But still I'm called Buttercup,--poor Little Buttercup,
Sweet Little Buttercup I!
[Illustration: CAPTAIN CORCORAN.]
Fair moon, to thee I sing
Bright regent of the heavens;
Say, why is every thing
Either at sixes or at sevens!
[Illustration: BILL BOBSTAY, THE BOS'N]
He is an Englishman!
For he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit
That he is an Englishman.
[Illustration: DICK DEADEYE.]
"I'm ugly too, aint I?"
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
I. JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE 5
II. TWO LITTLE TRAVELLERS 27
III. A JOLLY FOURTH 38
IV. SEVEN BLACK CATS 52
V. ROSA'S TALE 67
VI. LUNCH 89
VII. A BRIGHT IDEA 105
VIII. HOW THEY CAMPED OUT 119
IX. MY LITTLE SCHOOL-GIRL 141
X. WHAT A SHOVEL DID 154
XI. CLAMS 168
XII. KITTY'S CATTLE SHOW 182
XIII. WHAT BECOMES OF THE PINS 189
[Illustration: TOM TUCKER, MIDSHIPMITE.]
AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG.
I.
JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE.
HOW HE SHIPPED.
A boy sat on a door-step in a despondent attitude, with his eyes fixed
on a pair of very shabby shoes, and his elbows resting on his knees, as
if to hide the big patches there. But it was not the fact that his toes
were nearly out and his clothes dilapidated which brought the wrinkles
to his forehead and the tears to his eyes, for he was used to that
state of things, and bore it without complaint. The prospect was a dull
one for a lively lad full of the spring longings which sunny April
weather always brings. But it was not the narrow back-street where noisy
children played and two or three dusty trees tried to bud without
sunshine, that made him look so dismal. Nor was it the knowledge that a
pile of vests was nearly ready for him to trudge away with before he
could really rest after doing many errands to save mother's weary feet.
No, it was a burden that lay very heavily on his heart, and made it
impossible to even whistle as he waited. Above the sounds that filled
the street he heard a patient moan from the room within; and no matter
what object his eyes rested on, he saw with sorrowful distinctness a
small white face turned wistfully toward the window, as if weary of the
pillow where it had laid so long.
Merry little Kitty, who used to sing and dance from morning till night,
was now so feeble and wasted that he could carry her about like a baby.
All day she lay moaning softly, and her one comfort was when "brother"
could come and sing to her. That night he could not sing; his heart was
so full, because the doctor had said that the poor child must have
country air as soon as possible, else she never would recover from the
fever which left her such a sad little ghost of her former self. But,
alas, there was no money for the trip, and mother was sewing day and
night to earn enough for a week at least of blessed country air and
quiet. Jimmy did his best to help, but could find very little to do, and
the pennies came in so slowly he was almost in despair.
There was no father to lend a strong hand, and Mrs. Nelson was one of
the "silent poor," who cannot ask for charity, no matter how much they
may need it. The twelve-year-old boy considered himself the man of the
family, and manfully carried as many burdens as his young shoulders
would bear; but this was a very heavy one, so it is no wonder that he
looked sober. Holding his curly head in his hands, as if to keep it from
flying asunder with the various plans working inside, he sat staring at
the dusty bricks in a desperate frame of mind.
Warm days were coming, and every hour was precious, for poor Kitty pined
in the close room, and all he could do was to bring her dandelions and
bits of green grass from the Common when she begged to go in the fields
and pick "pretties" for herself. He loved the little sister dearly,
and, as he remembered her longing, his eyes filled, and he doubled up
both fists with an air of determination, muttering to himself,--
"She _shall_ go! I don't see any other way, and I'll do it!"
The plan which had been uppermost lately was this. His father had been a
sailor, and Jimmy proposed to run away to sea as cabin boy. His wages
were to be paid before he went, so mother and Kitty could be in the
country while he was gone, and in a few months he would come sailing
gayly home to find the child her rosy self again. A very boyish and
impossible plan, but he meant it, and was in just the mood to carry it
out,--for every other attempt to make money had failed.
"I'll do it as sure as my name is Jim Nelson. I'll take a look at the
ships this very night, and go in the first one that will have me," he
said, with a resolute nod of the head, though his heart sank within him
at the thought. "I wonder which kind of captains pay boys best? I guess
I'll try a steamer; they make short trips. I heard the cannon to-day, so
one is in, and I'll try for a place before I go to bed."
Little did desperate Jimmy guess what ship he would really sail in, nor
what a prosperous voyage he was about to make; for help was coming that
very minute, as it generally does, sooner or later, to generous people
who are very much in earnest.
First a shrill whistle was heard, at the sound of which he looked up
quickly; then a rosy-faced girl of about his own age came skipping down
the street, swinging her hat by one string; and, as Jimmy watched her
approach, a smile began to soften the grim look he wore, for Willy
Bryant was his best friend and neighbor, being full of courage, fun, and
kindness. He nodded, and made room for her on the step,--the place she
usually occupied at spare moments when they got lessons and recounted
their scrapes to each other.
But to-night Willy seemed possessed of some unusually good piece of news
which she chose to tell in her own lively fashion, for, instead of
sitting down, she began to dance a sailor's hornpipe, singing gayly,
"I'm little Buttercup, sweet little Buttercup," till her breath gave
out.
"What makes you so jolly, Will?" asked Jimmy, as she dropped down
beside him and fanned herself with the ill-used hat.
"Such fun--you'll never guess--just what we wanted--if your mother only
will! You'll dance, too, when you know," panted the girl, smiling like a
substantial sort of fairy come to bring good luck.
"Fire away, then. It will have to be extra nice to set me off. I don't
feel a bit like jigs now," answered Jimmy, as the gloom obscured his
face again, like a cloud over the sun.
"You know 'Pinafore'?" began Will, and getting a quick nod for an
answer, she poured forth the following tale with great rapidity: "Well,
some folks are going to get it up with children to do it, and they want
any boys and girls that can sing to go and be looked at to-morrow, and
the good ones will be picked out, and dressed up, and taught how to act,
and have the nicest time that ever was. Some of our girls are going, and
so am I, and you sing and must come, too, and have some fun. Won't it be
jolly?"
"I guess it would; but I can't. Mother needs me every minute out of
school," began Jimmy, with a shake of the head, having made up his mind
some time ago that he must learn to do without fun.
"But we shall be paid for it," cried Will, clapping her hands with the
double delight of telling the best part of her story, and seeing Jimmy's
sober face clear suddenly as if the sun had burst forth with great
brilliancy.
"Really? How much? Can I sing well enough?" and he clutched her arm
excitedly, for this unexpected ray of hope dazzled him.
"Some of them will have ten dollars a week, and some more,--the real
nice ones, like Lee, the singing boy, who is a wonder," answered Will,
in the tone of one well informed on such points.
"Ten dollars!" gasped Jimmy, for the immensity of the sum took his
breath away. "Could _I_ get that? How long? Where do we go? Do they
really want us fellows? Are you sure it's all true?"
"It was all in the paper, and Miss Pym, the teacher who boards at our
house, told Ma about it. The folks advertised for school-children, sixty
of 'em, and will really pay; and Ma said I could go and try, and all
the money I get I'm going to put in a bank and have for my own. Don't
you believe me now?"
Miss Pym and the newspapers settled the matter in Jimmy's mind, and made
him more anxious than before about the other point.
"Do you think _I_ would have any chance?" he asked, still holding Will,
who seemed inclined for another dance.
"I know you would. Don't you do splendidly at school? And didn't they
want you for a choir boy, only your mother couldn't spare you?" answered
Will, decidedly; for Jimmy did love music, and had a sweet little pipe
of his own, as she well knew.
"Mother will have to spare me now, if they pay like that. I can work all
day and do without sleep to earn money this way. Oh, Will, I'm so glad
you came, for I was just ready to run away to sea. There didn't seem
anything else to do," whispered Jimmy in a choky sort of tone, as hopes
and fears struggled together in his boyish mind.
"Run as fast as you like, and I'll go too. We'll sail in the 'Pinafore,'
and come home with our pockets full of money.
"'Sing, hey, the merry maiden and the tar!'"
burst out Will, who was so full of spirits she could not keep still
another minute.
Jimmy joined in, and the fresh voices echoed through the street so
pleasantly that Mrs. Peters stopped scolding her six squabbling
children, while Kitty's moaning changed to a feeble little sound of
satisfaction, for "brother's" lullabies were her chief comfort and
delight.
"We shall lose school, you know, for we act in the afternoon, not the
evening. I don't care; but you will, you like to study so well. Miss Pym
didn't like it at first, but Ma said it would help the poor folks, and a
little fun wouldn't hurt the children. I thought of you right away, and
if you don't get as much money as I do, you shall have some of mine, so
Kitty can go away soon."
Will's merry face grew very sweet and kind as she said that, and Jimmy
was glad his mother called him just then, because he did not know how
to thank this friend in need. When he came out with the parcel of vests
he looked like a different boy, for Mrs. Nelson had told him to go and
find out all about it, and had seemed as much dazzled by the prospect as
he did, sewing was such weary work.
Their interview with Miss Pym was a most encouraging one, and it was
soon settled that Jimmy should go with Will to try for a place on the
morrow.
"And I'll get it, too!" he said to himself, as he kissed Kitty's thin
cheek, full of the sweet hope that he might be the means of bringing
back life and color to the little face he loved so well.
He was so excited he could not sleep, and beguiled the long hours by
humming under his breath all the airs he knew belonging to the already
popular opera. Next morning he flew about his work as if for a wager,
and when Will came for him there was not a happier heart in all the city
than the hopeful one that thumped under Jimmy's threadbare best jacket.
Such a crowd of girls and boys as they found at the hall where they
were told to apply for inspection; such a chirping and piping went on
there, it sounded like a big cage full of larks and linnets; and by and
by, when the trial was over, such a smiling troop of children as was
left to be drilled by the energetic gentlemen who had the matter in
hand. Among this happy band stood our Jimmy, chosen for his good voice,
and Will, because of her bright face and lively, self-possessed manners.
They could hardly wait to be dismissed, and it was a race home to see
who should be first to tell the good news. Jimmy tried to be quiet on
Kitty's account, but failed entirely; and it was a pleasant sight to see
the boy run into his mother's arms, crying joyfully,--
"I'm in! I'm in! Ten dollars a week! Hurrah!"
"I can hardly believe it!" And weary Mrs. Nelson dropped her needle to
indulge in a few moments of delightful repose.
"If it goes well they may want us for a month or six weeks," the man
said. "Just think, maybe I'll get fifty or sixty dollars! and Baby will
get well right off," cried Jimmy, in an arithmetical sort of rapture,
as he leaned above Kitty, who tried to clap her little hands without
quite knowing what the joy was all about.
HOW HE SAILED.
After that day Jimmy led a very happy life, for he loved music and
enjoyed the daily drill with his mates, though it was long before he saw
the inside of the theatre. Will knew a good deal about it, for an
actor's family had boarded with her mother, and the little girl had been
behind the scenes. But to Jimmy, who had only seen one fairy play, all
was very strange when at last he went upon the stage; for the glittering
world he expected was gone, and all was dusty, dark, and queer, with
trap-doors underfoot, machinery overhead, and a wilderness of scenery
jumbled together in the drollest way. He was all eyes and ears, and
enjoyed himself immensely as he came and went, sung and acted, with the
troop of lads who made up the sailor chorus. It was a real ship to him,
in spite of painted cannon, shaky masts, and cabin doors that led
nowhere. He longed to run up the rigging; but as that was forbidden,
for fear of danger, he contented himself by obeying orders with nautical
obedience, singing with all his might, and taking great satisfaction in
his blue suit with the magical letters "H. M. S. Pinafore" round his
cap.
Day by day all grew more and more interesting. His mother was never
tired of hearing his adventures, he sung Kitty to sleep with the new
songs, and the neighbors took such a friendly interest in his success
that they called him Lord Nelson, and predicted that he would be as
famous as his great namesake.
When the grand day came at last, and the crew of jolly young tars stood
ready to burst forth with the opening chorus,
"We sail the ocean blue,
Our saucy ship's a beauty;
We're gallant men and true,
And bound to do our duty!"
Jimmy hardly knew whether he stood on his head or his heels at first,
for, in spite of many rehearsals, everything seemed changed. Instead of
daylight, gas shone everywhere, the empty seats were full, the
orchestra playing splendidly, and when the curtain rose, a sea of
friendly faces welcomed them, and the pleasant sound of applause made
the hearts under the blue jackets dance gayly.
How those boys did sing! how their eyes shone, and their feet kept time
to the familiar strains! with what a relish they hitched up their
trousers and lurched about, or saluted and cheered as the play demanded.
With what interest they watched the microscopic midshipmite, listened to
Rafe as his sweet voice melodiously told the story of his hapless love,
and smiled on pretty Josephine, who was a regular bluebird without the
scream.
"Ain't this fun?" whispered Jimmy's next neighbor, taking advantage of a
general burst of laughter, as the inimitable little bumboat woman
advertised her wares with captivating drollery.
"Right down jolly!" answered Jimmy, feeling that a series of somersaults
across the stage would be an immense relief to the pent-up emotions of
his boyish soul. For under all the natural excitement of the hour deep
down lay the sweet certainty that he was earning health for Kitty, and
it made his heart sing for joy more blithely than any jovial chorus to
which he lent his happy voice.
But his bliss was not complete till the stately Sir Joseph, K. C. B.,
had come aboard, followed by "his sisters and his cousins and his
aunts;" for among that flock of devoted relatives in white muslin and
gay ribbons was Will. Standing in the front row, her bright face was
good to see, for her black eyes sparkled, every hair on her head curled
its best, her cherry bows streamed in the breeze, and her feet pranced
irresistibly at the lively parts of the music. She longed to dance the
hornpipe which the little Quaker aunt did so capitally, but, being
denied that honor, distinguished herself by the comic vigor with which
she "polished up the handle of the big front door," and did the other
"business" recorded by the gallant "ruler of the Queen's Navee."
She and Jimmy nodded to each other behind the Admiral's august back, and
while Captain Corcoran was singing to the moon, and Buttercup suffering
the pangs of "Wemorse," the young people had a gay time behind the
scenes. Jimmy and Will sat upon a green baize bank to compare notes,
while the relatives flew about like butterflies, and the sailors talked
base-ball, jack-knives, and other congenial topics, when not envying Sir
Joseph his cocked hat, and the Captain his epaulettes.
It was a very successful launch, and the merry little crew set sail with
a fair wind and every prospect of a prosperous voyage. When the first
performance was over, our two children left their fine feathers behind
them, like Cinderella when the magic hour struck, and went gayly home,
feeling much elated, for they knew they should go back to fresh
triumphs, and were earning money by their voices like Jenny Lind and
Mario. How they pitied other boys and girls who could not go in at that
mysterious little door; how important they felt as parts of the
spectacle about which every one was talking, and what millionnaires they
considered themselves as they discussed their earnings and planned what
to do with the prospective fortunes.
That was the beginning of many busy, happy weeks for both the
children,--weeks which they long remembered with great pleasure, as did
older and wiser people; for that merry, innocent little opera proved
that theatres can be made the scenes of harmless amusement, and opened
to a certain class of young people a new and profitable field for their
talents. So popular did this small company become that the piece went on
through the summer vacation, and was played in the morning as well as
afternoon to satisfy the crowds who wished to see and hear it.
Never had the dear old Boston Museum, which so many of us have loved and
haunted for years, seen such a pretty sight as one of those morning
performances. It was the perfection of harmless merry-making, and the
audience was as pleasant a spectacle as that upon the stage. Fathers and
mothers stole an hour from their busy lives to come and be children with
their children, irresistibly attracted and charmed by the innocent fun,
the gay music that bewitched the ear one could hardly tell why, and the
artless acting of those who are always playing parts, whether the
nursery or the theatre is their stage.
The windows stood open, and sunshine and fresh air came in to join the
revel. Babies crowed and prattled, mammas chatted together, old people
found they had not forgotten how to laugh, and boys and girls rejoiced
over the discovery of a new delight for holidays. It was good to be
there, and in spite of all the discussion in papers and parlors, no harm
came to the young mariners, but much careful training of various sorts,
and well-earned wages that went into pockets which sorely needed a
silver lining.
HOW THE VOYAGE ENDED.
So the good ship "Pinafore" sailed and sailed for many prosperous weeks,
and when at last she came into port and dropped anchor for the season
she was received with a salute of general approbation for the successful
engagement out of which she came with her flags flying and not one of
her gallant crew killed or wounded. Well pleased with their share of the
glory, officers and men went ashore to spend their prize money with
true sailor generosity, all eager to ship again for another cruise in
the autumn.
But long before that time Able Seaman James Nelson had sent his family
into the country, mother begging Will to take good care of her dear boy
till he could join them, and Kitty throwing kisses as she smiled
good-by, with cheeks already the rosier for the comforts "brother" had
earned for her. Jimmy would not desert his ship while she floated, but
managed to spend his Sundays out of town, often taking Will with him as
first mate; and, thanks to her lively tongue, friends were soon made for
the new-comers. Mrs. Nelson found plenty of sewing, Kitty grew strong
and well in the fine air, and the farmer with whom they lived, seeing
what a handy lad the boy was, offered him work and wages for the autumn,
so all could be independent and together. With this comfortable prospect
before him, Jimmy sang away like a contented blackbird, never tiring of
his duty, for he was a general favorite, and Kitty literally strewed his
way with flowers gathered by her own grateful little hands.
When the last day came, he was in such spirits that he was found doing
double-shuffles in corners, hugging the midshipmite, who was a little
girl of about Kitty's age, and treating his messmates to peanuts with a
lavish hand. Will had her hornpipe, also, when the curtain was down,
kissed every one of the other "sisters, cousins, and aunts," and joined
lustily in the rousing farewell cheers given by the crew.
A few hours later, a cheerful-looking boy might have been seen trudging
toward one of the railway-stations. A new hat, brave in blue streamers,
was on his head; a red balloon struggled to escape from one hand; a
shabby carpet-bag, stuffed full, was in the other; and a pair of shiny
shoes creaked briskly, as if the feet inside were going on a very
pleasant errand.
About this young traveller, who walked with a sailor-like roll and
lurch, revolved a little girl chattering like a magpie, and occasionally
breaking into song, as if she couldn't help it.
"Be sure you come next Saturday; it won't be half such fun if you don't
go halves," said the boy, beaming at her as he hauled down the
impatient balloon, which seemed inclined to break from its moorings
"'Yes, I know
That is so!'"
hummed the girl with a skip to starboard, that she might bear a hand
with the bag. "Keep some cherries for me, and don't forget to give Kit
the doll I dressed for her."
"I shouldn't have been going myself if it hadn't been for you, Will. I
never shall forget that," said Jimmy, whom intense satisfaction rendered
rather more sedate than his friend.
"Running away to sea is great fun,
'With a tar that ploughs the water!'"
sung Will in spite of herself.
"'And a gallant captain's daughter,'"
echoed Jimmy, smiling across the carpet-bag. Then both joined in an
irrepressible chorus of "Dash it! Dash it!" as a big man nearly upset
them and a dog barked madly at the balloon.
Being safely landed in the train, Jimmy hung out of the window till the
last minute, discussing his new prospects with Will, who stood on tiptoe
outside, bubbling over with fun.
"I'll teach you to make butter and cheese, and you shall be my
dairy-woman, for I mean to be a farmer," he said, just as the bell rang.
"All right, I'd like that ever so much." And then the irrepressible
madcap burst out, to the great amusement of the passengers,--
"'For you might have been a Roosian,
A Frenchman, Turk or Proosian,
Or an Ital-i-an.'"
And Jimmy could not resist shouting back, as the train began to move,--
"'But in spite of all temptations
To belong to other nations,
I'm an Amer-i-can.'"
Then he subsided, to think over the happy holiday before him and the
rich cargo of comfort, independence, and pleasure he had brought home
from his successful cruise in the "Pinafore."
II.
TWO LITTLE TRAVELLERS.
The first of these true histories is about Annie Percival,--a very dear
and lovely child, whose journey interested many other children, and is
still remembered with gratitude by those whom she visited on a far-off
island.
Annie was six when she sailed away to Fayal with her mother, grandmamma,
and "little Aunt Ruth," as she called the young aunty who was still a
school-girl. Very cunning was Annie's outfit, and her little trunk was a
pretty as well as a curious sight, for everything was so small and
complete it looked as if a doll was setting off for Europe. Such a wee
dressing-case, with bits of combs and brushes for the curly head; such a
cosey scarlet wrapper for the small woman to wear in her berth, with
slippers to match when she trotted from state-room to state-room; such
piles of tiny garments laid nicely in, and the owner's initials on the
outside of the trunk; not to mention the key on a ribbon in her pocket,
as grown up as you please.
I think the sight of that earnest, sunshiny face must have been very
pleasant to all on board, no matter how seasick they might be, and the
sound of the cheery little voice, as sweet as the chirp of a bird,
especially when she sung the funny song about the "Owl and the pussy-cat
in the pea-green boat," for she had charming ways, and was always making
quaint, wise, or loving remarks.
Well, "they sailed and they sailed," and came at last to Fayal, where
everything was so new and strange that Annie's big brown eyes could
hardly spare time to sleep, so busy were they looking about. The donkeys
amused her very much, so did the queer language and ways of the
Portuguese people round her, especially the very droll names given to
the hens of a young friend. The biddies seemed to speak the same dialect
as at home, but evidently they understood Spanish also, and knew their
own names, so it was fun to go and call Rio, Pico, Cappy, Clarissa,
Whorfie, and poor Simonena, whose breast-bone grew out so that she
could not eat and had to be killed.
But the thing which made the deepest impression on Annie was a visit to
a charity-school at the old convent of San Antonio. It was kept by some
kind ladies, and twenty-five girls were taught and cared for in the big,
bare place, that looked rather gloomy and forlorn to people from happy
Boston, where charitable institutions are on a noble scale, as everybody
knows.
Annie watched all that went on with intelligent interest, and when they
were shown into the play-room she was much amazed and afflicted to find
that the children had nothing to play with but a heap of rags, out of
which they made queer dolls, with ravelled twine for hair, faces rudely
drawn on the cloth, and funny boots on the shapeless legs. No other toys
appeared, but the girls sat on the floor of the great stone room,--for
there was no furniture,--playing contentedly with their poor dolls, and
smiling and nodding at "the little Americana," who gravely regarded this
sad spectacle, wondering how they could get on without china and waxen
babies, tea-sets, and pretty chairs and tables to keep house with.
The girls thought that she envied them their dolls, and presently one
came shyly up to offer two of their best, leaving the teacher to explain
in English their wish to be polite to their distinguished guest. Like
the little gentlewoman she was, Annie graciously accepted the ugly bits
of rag with answering nods and smiles, and carried them away with her as
carefully as if they were of great beauty and value.
But when she was at home she expressed much concern and distress at the
destitute condition of the children. Nothing but rags to play with
seemed a peculiarly touching state of poverty to her childish mind, and
being a generous creature she yearned to give of her abundance to "all
the poor orphans who didn't have any nice dollies." She had several pets
of her own, but not enough to go round even if she sacrificed them, so
kind grandmamma, who had been doing things of this sort all her life,
relieved the child's perplexity by promising to send twenty-five fine
dolls to Fayal as soon as the party returned to Boston, where these
necessaries of child-life are cheap and plenty.
Thus comforted, Annie felt that she could enjoy her dear Horta and Chica
Pico Fatiera, particular darlings rechristened since her arrival. A
bundle of gay bits of silk, cloth, and flannel, and a present of money
for books, were sent out to the convent by the ladies. A treat of little
cheeses for the girls to eat with their dry bread was added, much to
Annie's satisfaction, and helped to keep alive her interest in the
school of San Antonio.
After many pleasant adventures during the six months spent in the city,
our party came sailing home again all the better for the trip, and Annie
so full of tales to tell that it was a never-failing source of amusement
to hear her hold forth to her younger brother in her pretty way,
"splaining and 'scribing all about it."
Grandmamma's promise was faithfully kept, and Annie brooded blissfully
over the twenty-five dolls till they were dressed, packed, and sent away
to Fayal. A letter of thanks soon came back from the teacher, telling
how surprised and delighted the girls were, and how they talked of
Annie as if she were a sort of fairy princess who in return for two poor
rag-babies sent a miraculous shower of splendid china ladies with gay
gowns and smiling faces.
This childish charity was made memorable to all who knew of it by the
fact that three months after she came home from that happy voyage Annie
took the one from which there is no return. For this journey there was
needed no preparation but a little white gown, a coverlet of flowers,
and the casket where the treasure of many hearts was tenderly laid away.
All alone, but not afraid, little Annie crossed the unknown sea that
rolls between our world and the Islands of the Blest, to be welcomed
there, I am sure, by spirits as innocent as her own, leaving behind her
a very precious memory of her budding virtues and the relics of a short,
sweet life.
Every one mourned for her, and all her small treasures were so carefully
kept that they still exist. Poor Horta, in the pincushion arm-chair,
seems waiting patiently for the little mamma to come again; the two
rag-dolls lie side by side in grandma's scrap-book, since there is now
no happy voice to wake them into life; and far away in the convent of
San Antonio the orphans carefully keep their pretty gifts in memory of
the sweet giver. To them she is a saint now, not a fairy princess; for
when they heard of her death they asked if they might pray for the soul
of the dear little Americana, and the teacher said, "Pray rather for the
poor mother who has lost so much." So the grateful orphans prayed and
the mother was comforted, for now another little daughter lies in her
arms and kisses away the lonely pain at her heart.
* * * * *
The second small traveller I want to tell about lived in the same city
as the first, and her name was Maggie Woods. Her father was an
Englishman who came to America to try his fortune, but did not find it;
for, when Maggie was three months old, the great Chicago fire destroyed
their home; soon after, the mother died; then the father was drowned,
and Maggie was left all alone in a strange country.
She had a good aunt in England, however, who took great pains to
discover the child after the death of the parents, and sent for her to
come home and be cared for. It was no easy matter to get a five-years'
child across the Atlantic, for the aunt could not come to fetch her, and
no one whom she knew was going over. But Maggie had found friends in
Chicago; the American consul at Manchester was interested in the case,
and every one was glad to help the forlorn baby, who was too young to
understand the pathos of her story.
After letters had gone to and fro, it was decided to send the child to
England in charge of the captain of a steamer, trusting to the kindness
of all fellow-travellers to help her on her way.
The friends in Chicago bestirred themselves to get her ready, and then
it was that Annie's mother found that she could do something which would
have delighted her darling, had she been here to know of it. Laid
tenderly away were many small garments belonging to the other little
pilgrim, whose journeying was so soon ended; and from among all these
precious things Mrs. Percival carefully chose a comfortable outfit for
that cold March voyage.
The little gray gown went, and the red hood, the warm socks, and the
cosey wraps no longer needed by the quiet sleeper under the snow.
Perhaps something of her loving nature lingered about the clothes, and
helped to keep the orphan warm and safe, for Annie's great delight was
to pet and help all who needed comfort and protection.
When all was ready, Maggie's small effects were packed in a light
basket, so that she could carry it herself if need be. A card briefly
telling the story was fastened on the corner, and a similar paper
recommending her to the protection of all kind people, was sewed to the
bosom of her frock. Then, not in the least realizing what lay before
her, the child was consigned to the conductor of the train to be
forwarded to persons in New York who would see her safely on board the
steamer.
I should dearly like to have seen the little maid and the big basket as
they set out on that long trip as tranquilly as if for a day's visit;
and it is a comfort to know that before the train started, the persons
who took her there had interested a motherly lady in the young
traveller, who promised to watch over her while their ways were the
same.
All went well, and Maggie was safely delivered to the New York friends,
who forwarded her to the steamer, well supplied with toys and comforts
for the voyage, and placed in charge of captain and stewardess. She
sailed on the 3d of March, and on the 12th landed at Liverpool, after a
pleasant trip, during which she was the pet of all on board.
The aunt welcomed her joyfully, and the same day the child reached her
new home, the Commercial Inn, Compstall, after a journey of over four
thousand miles. The consul and owners of the steamer wanted to see the
adventurous young lady who had come so far alone, and neighbors and
strangers made quite a lion of her, for all kindly hearts were
interested, and the protective charity which had guided and guarded her
in two hemispheres and across the wide sea, made all men fathers, all
women mothers, to the little one till she was safe.
Her picture lies before me as I write,--a pretty child standing in a
chair, with a basket of toys on the table before her; curly hair pushed
back from the face, pensive eyes, and a pair of stout little feet
crossed one over the other as if glad to rest. I wish I could put the
photograph into the story, because the small heroine is an interesting
one, and still lives with the good aunt, who is very fond and proud of
her, and writes pleasant accounts of her progress to the friends in
America.
So ends the journey of my second small traveller, and when I think of
her safe and happy in a good home, I always fancy that (if such things
may be) in the land which is lovelier than even beautiful old England,
Maggie's mother watches over little Annie.
III.
A JOLLY FOURTH.
Door-step parties were the fashion that year, and it was while a dozen
young folks sat chatting on Annie Hadwin's steps in the twilight that
they laid the plan which turned out such a grand success in the end.
"For my part, I am glad we are to be put on a short allowance of
gunpowder, and that crackers are forbidden, they are such a nuisance,
burning holes in clothes, frightening horses, and setting houses afire,"
said sober Fred from the gate, where he and several other fellows were
roosting socially together.
"It won't seem a bit like a regular Fourth without the salutes three
times during the day. They are afraid the old cannon will kick, and blow
off some other fellow's arm, as it did last year," added Elly Dickens,
the beau of the party, as he pulled down his neat wristbands, hoping
Maud admired the new cuff-buttons in them.
"What shall we do in the evening, since the ball is given up? Just
because the old folks are too tired to enjoy dancing, we can't have any,
and I think it is too bad," said pretty Belle, impatiently, for she
danced like a fairy and was never tired.
"The authorities didn't dare to stop our races in the morning. There
would have been an insurrection if they had," called out long Herbert
from the grass, where he lay at the feet of black-eyed Julia.
"We _must_ do something to finish off with. Come, somebody suggest a
new, nice, safe, and jolly plan for the evening," cried Grace, who liked
fun, and had just slipped a little toad into Jack Spratt's pocket as a
pleasant surprise when he felt for his handkerchief.
"Let us offer a prize for the brightest idea. Five minutes for
meditation, then all suggest a plan, and the best one shall be adopted,"
proposed Annie, glad to give a lively turn to her party.
All agreed, and sudden silence followed the chatter, broken now and
then by an exclamation of "I've got it! No, I haven't," which produced a
laugh at the impetuous party.
"Time's up," announced Fred, looking at "the turnip," as his big
old-fashioned watch was called. Every one had a proposal more or less
original, and much discussion followed; but it was finally decided that
Herbert's idea of floating about in boats to enjoy the fireworks on the
hill would be romantic, reposeful, and on the whole satisfactory.
"Each boat might have a colored lantern; that would look pretty, and
then there would be no danger of running into our neighbors in the
dark," said Annie, who was a little timid on the water in a wherry.
"Why not have lots, and make a regular 'feast of lanterns,' as they do
in China? I was reading about it the other day, and can show you how to
do it. Won't it be gay?" And Fred the bookworm nearly tumbled off his
perch, as an excited gesture emptied his pockets of the library books
which served as ballast.
"Yes! yes!" cried the other lads, with various demonstrations of
delight as the new fancy grew upon their lively minds.
"Fred and Annie must have the prize, for their idea is the most
brilliant one. Nan can give the flag to the winner of the race, and
'Deacon' can lead the boats, for _I_ think it would be fine to have a
procession on the river. Fireworks are an old story, so let us surprise
the town by something regularly splendid," proposed Elly, fired in his
turn with a bright idea.
"We will! we will!" cried the rest, and at once plunged into the affair
with all the ardor of their years.
"Let us dress up," said Julia, who liked theatricals.
"In different characters," added Maud, thinking how well her long yellow
hair would look as a mermaid.
"And all sing as we go under the bridges," put in Annie, who adored
music.
"What a pity the boats can't dance, it would be so lovely to see them
waltzing round like fireflies!" said Belle, still longing for the ball.
"A lot of fellows are coming up to spend the day with us, and we ought
to have some sort of a picnic; city folks think so much of such things,"
said Herbert the hospitable, for his house and barn were the favorite
resorts of all his mates, and three gentle little sisters always came
into his plans if possible.
"I've got two girl cousins coming, and they would like it, I guess. I
should any way, for Jack will go tagging after Grace and leave me to
take care of them. Let's have a picnic, by all means," said lazy Fred,
who thought all girls but one great plagues.
"I shouldn't wonder if all our people liked that plan, and we might have
a town picnic as we did once before. Let every one ask his or her
mother, and see if we can't do it," suggested Annie, eager for a whole
day of merry-making.
The door-step party was late in breaking up that night; and if half the
plans proposed had been carried out, that town would have been
considered a large lunatic asylum. Wiser heads remodelled the wild
plans, however, and more skilful hands lent their aid, so that only the
possible was attempted, though the older folks had bright ideas as well
as the boys and girls, and gave the finishing touches to the affair.
The Fourth was a fine day, with a fresh air, cloudless sky, and no dust.
The town was early astir, though neither sunrise cannon nor the Antiques
and Horribles disturbed the dawn with their clamor. The bells rang
merrily, and at eight all flocked to the Town Hall to hear the
Declaration of Independence read by the good and great man of the town,
whose own wise and noble words go echoing round the world, teaching the
same lesson of justice, truth, and courage as that immortal protest. An
Ode by the master of the revels was sung, then every one shouted America
with hearty good-will, and before the echoes had fairly died away, the
crowd streamed forth to the river-side; for these energetic people were
bound to make a day of it.
At nine the races began, and both green banks of the stream were lined
with gay groups eagerly watching "our boys" as they swept by in
wherries, paddled in canoes, or splashed and tumbled in and out of their
tubs amid shouts of laughter from the spectators. The older fellows did
the scientific, and their prizes were duly awarded by the judges. But
our young party had their share of fun, and Fred and Herbert, who were
chums in everything, won the race for the little flag yearly given to
the lads for any success on the river. Then the weary heroes loaded the
big dory with a cargo of girls, and with the banner blowing gayly in the
wind, rowed away to the wide meadow, where seven oaks cast shade enough
to shelter a large picnic. And a large one they had, for the mammas took
kindly to the children's suggestion, agreeing to club together in a
social lunch, each contributing her stores, her family, and her guests,
all being happy together in the free and easy way so pleasant and
possible in summer weather.
A merry company they were, and it was a comfortable sight to see the
tired fathers lying in the shade, while the housewives forgot their
cares for a day, the young folks made table-setting and dishwashing a
joke by doing it together, and the children frolicked to their hearts'
content. Even the babies were trundled to the party by proud mammas and
took naps in their carriages, or held receptions for admiring friends
and neighbors with infantile dignity.
A social, sensible time, and when sunset came all turned homeward to
make ready for the evening festivities. It was vaguely rumored that the
pretty rustic bridge was to be illuminated, for the older people had
taken up the idea and had _their_ surprises ready as well as the young
folks. A band was stationed by the river-side, a pretty villa on the
hill blazed out with lines of light, and elms and apple-trees bore red
and golden lanterns, like glorified fruit. The clerk of the weather was
evidently interested in this novel entertainment, for the evening was
windless, dark, and cool, so the arch of light that spanned the shadowy
river shone splendidly. Fireworks soared up from the hill-top beyond,
fireflies lent their dancing sparks to illuminate the meadows, and the
three bridges were laden with the crowds, who greeted each new surprise
with cries of admiration.
Higher up the stream, where two branches met about a rocky island, elves
seemed gathering for a summer revel.
From all the landings that lined either shore brilliant boats glided to
the rendezvous; some hung with luminous globes of blue and silver, some
with lanterns fiery-red, flower-shaped, golden, green, or variegated, as
if a rainbow were festooned about the viewless masts. Up and down they
flashed, stealing out from dusky nooks and floating in their own
radiance, as they went to join the procession that wound about the
island like a splendid sea-serpent uncoiling itself from sleep and
darkness.
"Isn't it beautiful?" cried even the soberest of the townsfolk, as all
turned their backs on the shining bridge and bursting rockets to admire
the new spectacle, which was finer than its most enthusiastic advocate
expected. All felt proud of their success as they looked, and even the
children forgot to shout while watching the pretty pageant that
presently came floating by, with music, light, and half-seen figures so
charming, grotesque, or romantic that the illusion was complete.
First, a boat so covered with green boughs and twinkling yellow sparks
that it looked like a floating island by starlight or a cage of
singing-birds, for music came from within and fresh voices, led by
Annie, sang sweetly as it sailed along. Then a gondola of lovely
Venetian ladies, rowed by the handsome artist, who was the pride of the
town. Next a canoe holding three dusky Indians, complete in war-paint,
wampum, and tomahawks, paddled before the brilliant barge in which
Cleopatra sat among red cushions, fanned by two pretty maids. Julia's
black eyes sparkled as she glanced about her, feeling very queen-like
with a golden crown on her head, all the jewelry she could muster on her
neck and arms, and grandmother's yellow brocade shining in the light.
Belle and Grace waved their peacock fans like two comely little Egyptian
damsels, and the many-colored lanterns made a pretty picture of the
whole.
A boatful of jolly little tars followed, with Tom Brown, Jr., as
skipper. Then a party of fairies in white, with silver wings and wands,
and lanterns like moon and stars.
Lou Pope, as Lady of the Lake, rowed her own boat, with Jack for a droll
little Harper, twanging his zitter for want of a better instrument.
A black craft hung with lurid red lanterns and manned by a crew of
ferocious pirates in scarlet shirts, dark beards, and an imposing
display of pistols and cutlasses in their belts, not to mention the
well-known skull and cross-bones on the flag flying at the masthead,
produced a tremendous effect as the crew clashed their arms and roared
the blood-thirstiest song they could find. All the boys cheered that,
and all the horses pranced as the pirates fired off their pistols,
causing timid ladies to shriek, and prudent drivers to retire from the
bridges with their carriage-loads of company.
A Chinese junk (or what was intended to look like one, but really
resembled a mud-scow), with a party of Mandarins, rich in fans,
umbrellas, and pigtails, taking tea on board in a blaze of fantastic
lanterns, delighted the children.
Then a long low boat came sliding by softly, lighted with pale blue
lamps, and on a white couch lay "Elaine," the letter in her hand, the
golden hair streaming to her knees, and at her feet the dwarf
sorrowfully rowing her down to Camelot. Every one recognized that, for
the master of the revels got it up as no one else could; and Maud
laughed to herself as the floating tableau went under the bridge, and
she heard people rushing to the other side, waiting eagerly to see the
"lily maid" appear and glide away, followed by applause, as one of the
prettiest sights seen that night.
There were eighty boats in all, and as the glittering train wound along
the curves of the river smooth and dark as a mirror, the effect was
truly beautiful, especially when they all congregated below the
illuminated bridge, making an island of many-colored light. An enchanted
island it seemed to lookers-on, for music and laughter came from it, and
a strange mixture of picturesque faces and figures flitted to and fro.
Elaine sat up and ate bonbons with the faithful dwarf; Ellen Douglas
ducked the Harper; the Chinamen invited Cleopatra to tea; the mermaids
pelted the pirates with water-lilies; the gallant gondolier talked art
with the Venetian ladies; and the jolly little tars danced hornpipes,
regardless of danger; while the three Indians, Fred, Herbert, and Elly,
whooped and tomahawked right and left as if on the war-path.
A regular Midsummer Night's Dream frolic, which every one enjoyed
heartily, while the band played patriotic airs, the pretty villa shone
like a fairy palace, and the sky was full of dazzling meteors, falling
stars, and long-tailed comets, as the rockets whizzed and blazed from
the hill-tops.