[Illustration: [Portrait of Jessie]]
[Illustration: The Aimwell Stories BY Walter Aimwell Gould & Lincoln]
=The Aimwell Stories.=
JESSIE;
OR,
TRYING TO BE SOMEBODY.
BY
WALTER AIMWELL,
AUTHOR OF “MARCUS,” “WHISTLER,” “ELLA,” ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
BOSTON:
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
59 WASHINGTON STREET.
NEW YORK: SHELDON AND COMPANY.
CINCINNATI: GEO. S. BLANCHARD.
1870.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
PREFACE.
While this series of books is designed to furnish a succession of
pleasant and instructive lessons and recreations for boys and girls,
each volume has also a specific aim, more or less prominently wrought
into its woof. The special object of JESSIE is to kindle in the hearts
of the young, especially the children of misfortune and poverty, a pure
and noble ambition, and to encourage them to strive for that “good name”
whose price is far above rubies, and that “conscience void of offence”
which is of still more inestimable value.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
THE NEW HOME.
PAGE
The trunk—What made it so heavy—Jessie’s gold—The Hapley
family—The separation—Jessie’s new position—Her mother’s
departure—The Pages—Going to work—Ronald’s flag—A patriotic
appeal—A job for Jessie—The flag-staff—Ronald’s shrewdness
questioned—Some criticisms on the flag—Worth all it
cost—Alterations proposed—An unexpected difficulty—How to make
an American flag—The repairs completed—The flag hoisted—A
surprise—Crying before breakfast—Two sober ones—Jessie in
retirement—Traces of tears—Henry’s visit—Homesickness—A dory
voyage across the ocean—What Marcus was thinking
about—Celebrating Washington’s birth-day—Marcus explains his
plan—An objection to a bonfire—The committee of
arrangements—Preparations for the celebration—The
pictures—Washington and his home—A busy time—The programme—The
parlor and the audience—The exercises—The tableau—A scene not in
the bill—Sound sleepers, 19
CHAPTER II.
SOMETHING ABOUT DIARIES.
How Jessie happened to keep a journal—Advantages of the habit—The
blank book—The title-page—origin of the motto—Abby Leonard—A
cutting remark—Its effect—Jessie’s resolution—Divine aid
sought—Abby conquered by kindness—The first record in the
journal—Benny’s death—Specimen of a Diary in Dry Measure—One in
Long Measure—One in Solid Measure—Which is best, 41
CHAPTER III.
SNOW AND ICE.
Building a snow-house—A disagreement—The work goes on—Another
dispute—Obstinacy—View of the snow-hut—Going to see the
ice-boat—Angry words—Ronald’s early life—Esquimaux snow-houses—A
traveller’s testimony—An ice-boat—Round Hill Pond—A lively
scene—The coasters—Description of the ice-boat—sailing wrong end
first—A western ice-boat—Invitation declined—The boat under
sail—Going home—The snow-slide—A vast heap of snow—A narrow
escape—Thoroughly alarmed—Ronald’s snow-hut, 57
CHAPTER IV.
THE REFEREE CASE.
Henry missing—Oscar’s account of the falling out—Jessie
incredulous—Henry’s defence—A reluctant admission—Jessie’s plan
for settling the quarrel—Rights of partners—Henry
obstinate—Another proposal—Referees—Henry’s reluctance—He
yields—The award to be binding—Ronald’s version of the
quarrel—Wherein he was to blame—He agrees to the referee
plan—The referees chosen—The meeting—Henry’s arrival—His
embarrassment—Ronald’s talkativeness—Fast skating—Subsiding into
silence—Examination of the two parties—Ronald’s comments on the
proceedings—Anticipating the decision—Making up—Summoned to the
tribunal—The referees surprised—They take it coolly—Looking
after the fees—Reading the award—The decision carried out—The
gallery of literary portraits—Jessie’s taste for
drawing—Twenty-four characters enigmatically expressed—The key, 71
CHAPTER V.
A DAY AT SCHOOL.
Two new comers—The academy—The opening exercises—The sentence on
the blackboard—The definition of wisdom—Knowledge brings
promotion—Education a good investment—Cuffee and the
calf—Charging for “the know how”—Building a house—The
laborers—Masons and carpenters—The “boss”—The
architect—Knowledge promotes a man in other ways—Jessie’s
appointment as assistant—The monitorial desk—The dinner
hour—Good riddance—The slow boy—A good time among the girls—Abby
and her pickles—The cake—Bragging—The squint-eyed girl—Making
fun of Abby—How she tried to make herself pale—Is it scandal to
tell the truth?—Evil speaking—Jessie called to account—Lucy
Grant—Strabismus, or squinting—A surgical operation—The slight
put upon Lucy—Jessie dispels the clouds—Closing the afternoon
session—Mr. Upton’s remarks—The evening hymn, 91
CHAPTER VI.
SWEETS AND BITTERS.
The Home Wreath—Jessie’s doubts about the nature of scandal—Light
from the dictionary—A note of inquiry—Henry missing—His
appearance—The temple of peace abandoned—Henry’s explanation—His
troubles—Mrs. Allen—Making husk mats—What Jessie said—How to be
loved—Jessie’s entreaties—The promise—The sugar season—Ronald’s
sugar enterprise—Tapping the trees—The sap—Sugar grown, not
made—Boiling down the sap—Clarifying it—“Sugaring off”—The
cakes—Going to a sugar camp—Who went, and who did
not—Description and view of the camp—Appearance of the Home
Wreath—Editorial reply to Jessie’s inquiry—The Bible on
scandal—Writers on moral science—Scandal is the worst kind of
robbery—Cases in which it is right to speak evil of
another—Prevalence of scandal—A noble exception—A secret well
kept—Oscar’s career, 110
CHAPTER VII.
HOW TO BE HAPPY.
What Henry thought of his promise—The real origin of Henry’s
troubles—Mrs. Allen’s rigid neatness—Scrubbing through the
floor—Henry roughly touches her weak point—Grows reckless—The
change in Mrs. Allen—The scolding—A forgotten duty—Dressing
up—Henry’s altered bearing—His explanation about the
wood—Attending school—Work and play—A decided improvement—An
approving conscience—Disappointment—Voluntary mat-braiding—A
welcome order—Another disappointment—How Henry bore it—Story of
the tornado—A stage-coach blown over—Freaks of the wind—Firm
buildings—A song—Learning it—Henry’s pictures—The top in rhyme—A
story—An abrupt ending—Willie’s talk about sending Henry to the
“Boy-Tamer”—A call from Jessie—Her gratification—Mrs. Allen’s
return, 130
CHAPTER VIII.
SABBATH LESSONS.
The miniature—Sad Associations—A life history—Melancholy
thoughts—Going to church—The sermon—The universal
burden—Laughing it away—Moping over it—Running away from it—The
man who was haunted by a goblin—One only true remedy for
sorrow—How to cast our burdens on the Lord—The Sabbath
School—The lesson—Why prayer is a duty—God requires it—Our
dependence upon Him—Not to pray is unnatural—Our need of
forgiveness—The boy who was too old to pray—A talk with him—His
great mistake—A ridiculous excuse—The climax of
meanness—Conscience prompts us to pray—Prayer a natural and
universal instinct—Prayer of infidels—Prayer brings
blessings—Its happy influence on our hearts—Good men have always
been praying men—Examples from history—Recapitulation—Jessie’s
eighth argument for prayer—Evening devotions, 149
CHAPTER IX.
RAINY-DAY DIVERSIONS.
The equinoctial storm—An argument postponed—Distribution of
work—An afternoon of leisure—Nothing to do—Andrew Airpump and
his comrades—An unceremonious check—Alliteration—Univocalic
verses—Task verses—Thread-paper poetry—How to write it—A
specimen—Cento verses—Pith-tumblers—The Grand Mufti—The sleepy
Brahmin—Balancing a coin on a needle—The trick
explained—Ronald’s experiment—The Moslem oracle—Its five
responses—Kate’s cento poem—How she found the lines—Contents of
the Wreath—Arithmetical puzzles and answers, 169
CHAPTER X.
ALL FOOLS’ DAY.
The boys’ chamber—Early and late rising—Ronald’s trick—Otis enjoys
a long nap—The clean plate—Suspicions allayed—More
tricks—Imaginary chalk—The railroad whistle—Easter—Easter
eggs—Trial of strength—Another trial—The soft egg—The pitched
seat—Otis missed at school—Inquiries—Aunt Fanny’s
discovery—Vexation—Otis at school—Interview with Ronald—A talk
about April-fooling—Difference of opinion—A court proposed—A
family custom—How the court managed business—The trial—The
prosecuting Attorney’s speech—The complaint—The plea of “not
guilty”—The first witness—Amusing cross-examination—Other
witnesses—The prisoner’s speech—A question arises—The judge’s
decision—The prisoner’s admission—His argument and appeal—The
prosecuting attorney’s closing plea—An interruption—Can you tell
a lie to a hen?—Conclusion of the argument—The charge—The
verdict—The sentence—Its execution, 185
CHAPTER XI.
SCHOLARS.
Good spelling—A spelling match—Choosing sides—Evils attending
spelling matches—An incident—Jessie blamed for an act of
kindness—Another incident—The last of choosing sides—Jessie’s
rank in school—Disadvantages—Secret of her success—Good and poor
memories—Abby’s memory—Lord Adolphus D’Orsay—The list of
irregular verbs—Saying over lessons before sleep—A contrast—The
good and the poor scholar—Concentrating the mind—Luther’s
testimony—Anecdote of St. Bernard—Power of early culture and
discipline—Why Jessie and Abby associated—Novel reading—Its
effects on Abby—Objections to it—Jessie proof against the
temptation, 209
CHAPTER XII.
A FEW BUSINESS MATTERS.
Driving a bargain—Beating down the price—Jessie’s rule, in
trading—Mrs. Page’s practice—How Jessie got her new dress so
cheap—Shillings and pence—Was Jessie to blame?—Selling for less
than cost—Motives for doing so—Meanness—Getting out of debt—An
unexpected application of good advice—Ronald’s debt—The lost
Reader—Plans frustrated—Dunning—An arrangement effected—The note
of hand—Interest—The receipt—Negotiating the note—A good
rule—Keeping account of expenses—Jessie’s poverty—Longings—Uncle
Morrison—His proposal to adopt Jessie—Jessie’s perplexity—Her
uncle’s tavern—His character—His wife—The
decision—Surprise—Further proposals—Jessie firm—A wise choice, 222
CHAPTER XIII.
THE NEW GAME.
Family portraits in the Home Wreath—A startling
announcement—Portrait of the sociable contributor—Portrait of
the high-minded contributor—Ronald’s literary enterprise—A new
pleasure heralded—Directions for playing the
game—Transformations—Literary patchwork—Literary puzzle—PETER
CODDLE’S TRIP TO NEW YORK—Setting out on the journey—Peter’s
sudden return—State of excitement—Conjectures—Peter’s own
story—His departure from home—A smash-up—The ruins—The railroad
depot—Riding in the cars—Curious sights—Quizzed by a
dandy—Returning the compliment—The dandy in a rage—A long
nap—Unceremonious awaking—Peter in New York—Incidents in the
depot—The music—Peter accosted by a stranger—Disinterested
benevolence—The boarding-house—Private grief—The nice little
room—Something to drink—The pictures—Queer feelings—The
dream—The awaking—Unpleasant discoveries—Inquiries—Peter’s eyes
opened—He is overwhelmed—A walk out—A free ticket for home—His
safe arrival—Settling down for life—List of phrases to supply
the blanks, 236
CHAPTER XIV.
JUST OUT OF JAIL.
Sam’s sentence—Changes during his imprisonment—Unanswered
letters—The note to Jessie—The meeting—Sam’s appearance—His
refusal to see any one—Why he came to see Jessie—His selfish
purpose thwarted—Jessie’s appeal—The promise—A call at Mr.
Allen’s—An early morning walk—The package for Sam—Henry’s
burden—A talk about Mrs. Allen—Henry informed of Sam’s visit—The
graveyard—The two hillocks—Setting out the trees—Sam’s
non-appearance—Disappointment, 260
CHAPTER XV.
SHOW AND SUBSTANCE.
How Charlie Doane made money—Maple sugar—Picking greens—Learning
to be a miser—Mr. Doane and the widow’s cow—Free remarks—Marcus
justifies himself—Ronald wants a new-fashioned cap—Oscar
unburdens his mind—What the girls talk about—Jessie’s
defence—Oscar renews the assault—Kate enters the ring—Her
explanation—Her good nature for once overpowered—Oscar beats a
retreat—Ronald and Otis come to the rescue—A telling shot from
Kate—The debate arrested—Mrs. Page awards justice
impartially—Evils and folly of thinking too much of dress—The
fault not quite universal—Oscar takes back a portion of his
charge—Aunt Fanny’s testimony—Little souls—A dwarfed
mind—Testimony of foreign travellers—A good rule about dress—An
inspired command—Failure of Abby’s father—Telegraph
despatch—Free comments—Sympathy—Abby at school—An unexpected
placidity, and a sudden explosion—First effect of the
intelligence upon Abby—A secret struggle—Shutting herself out
from sympathy—One Friend in the time of need—Lessons and
consolations—How Abby received Jessie’s kind offices, 271
CHAPTER XVI.
GETTING UP IN THE WORLD.
Reviewing studies—The scholar’s countersign—Step by step—How men
become eminent—The idea, if not the language—Porson’s
testimony—A French grenadier on the top of the pyramid—A lesson
from a picture—What man has done, man may do—Kate’s
promotion—Why Ronald failed—Better late than never—The Grade of
Honor—A substitute for prizes—The two honorary grades—Ceremony
of admission to the Grade of Fidelity—Popularity of the
Grade—Exclusion from it—Difficulty of getting into the Grade of
Honor—Admission ceremonies—Privileges of members—Abby called
home, 286
CHAPTER XVII.
TIDINGS.
Unpleasant news—Sam injured in a fight—Anxiety—The letter of
inquiry—The reply—Visit to Sam—His injuries—His account of the
fight—Mr. Preston’s kindness—Oscar’s proposed visit home—Jerry
Preston’s return from sea—A present from Ralph to Ronald—Jessie
writes to Sam—Oscar and Jerry—Their relations to one
another—Capt. Page—Possibility of his survival—Ronald’s
present—Cage and bird—Principle on which the toy is
constructed—Other applications of the principle—Oscar’s trip to
Boston—An unexpected pleasure, 301
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SURPRISE PARTY.
Exhibition day—Jessie invited out to tea—The return home—A
surprise—The academy party—The collation—Marcus makes a
speech—The box—Its contents—The nest of boxes, and their
mottoes—Jessie’s curiosity excited—The letter—The portemonnaie
and its contents—A new surprise—Jessie’s acknowledgment—The
Hymn—Conclusion, 310
=Illustrations.=
PORTRAIT OF JESSIE, FRONTISPIECE
VIGNETTE, TITLE PAGE
WASHINGTON AND HIS HOME, 36
THE SNOW-HOUSE, 59
ESQUIMAUX SNOW-HUTS, 62
GALLERY OF LITERARY PORTRAITS (twenty-four figures), 89, 90
SUGAR BOILING, 124
THE MINIATURE, 149
GRAND MUFTI AND SLEEPY BRAHMIN (two figures), 176
THE BALANCED COIN, 177
MILD PUNISHMENT, 208
PORTRAIT OF THE SOCIABLE CONTRIBUTOR, 237
PORTRAIT OF THE HIGH-MINDED CONTRIBUTOR, 238
THE INTERVIEW, 262
TIP-TOP, 290
HOW TO CAGE A BIRD, 307
THE PICTURE ON THE BOX, 314
JESSIE.
CHAPTER I.
THE NEW HOME.
It was on a dull and cold morning in February, that Jessie Hapley, a
girl between fourteen and fifteen years old, stood before a window in
the farm-house of Mrs. Page, watching a couple of boys who were drawing
a sled on which was lashed a trunk. The sled dragged heavily through the
new-fallen snow, and when yet some distance off, the cord by which it
was drawn suddenly snapped asunder. After a few moments’ delay, the boys
took a position behind their load, and pushed it along to its
destination, without meeting with any further obstacles.
“Where will you have it, Jessie—up in your chamber?” inquired the oldest
boy, as he and his companion landed the trunk in the entry.
“Yes, you may carry it up stairs, if you please,” replied Jessie.
“I hope you have got something good in that trunk, Jessie,—it’s heavy
enough, if that’s all,” said the younger boy, when they came down from
the chamber.
“Is it heavy?” inquired Jessie. “Well, I don’t wonder—it contains all my
gold, except this pin and ring, and you know gold is heavy.”
“Is that it?” continued the boy, whose name was Ronald. “I didn’t know
but you had filled it with stones, to make us think you had got
something valuable. They say rogues play that game sometimes, when they
put up at hotels. But about that gold; how much is there of it?”
“Well, I can’t tell you exactly how much there is, but I will show it to
you some time, if you wish to see it,” replied Jessie.
“Is it visible to the naked eye?” inquired the boy, with a roguish look.
“Of course it is,” replied Jessie. “You can see it plain enough, but
that is the best you can say about it.”
This was an enigma which Ronald could not solve, and it was not until
Jessie exhibited to him her portion of the precious metal, displayed
upon the covers and edges of several books, that he comprehended the
mystery.
The fact was, whatever else might have been Jessie’s possessions, at
this time, she was far from being rich in gold and silver, or any of the
paper representatives of those metals. Within a period of about two
months, a fearful train of calamities had overwhelmed the family to
which she belonged. The oldest son, Samuel, a youth of sixteen, had
committed a burglary in a neighboring town, for which he was now serving
a sentence in prison. The youngest child, an interesting and lovely boy
of nine, had sickened and died, at the beginning of the year. The
father, who for many years had been a victim of intemperate habits,
sought to drown his sorrows by still deeper draughts at the fountain of
woe and death, and came to a dreadful end, a few weeks after his boy was
laid in his frozen grave. Mr. Hapley’s farm and other property, on which
there were heavy mortgages, were taken to pay his debts, and the widow
and children were left homeless and moneyless.[1]
Footnote 1:
These events are more fully related in the fifth volume of this
series, entitled, “Marcus; or the Boy-Tamer.”
Jessie, and her brother Henry, a lad of thirteen, were the only children
now living with their mother. A home was soon found for Henry, in the
village, where he was to work for his board and clothes. Mrs. Hapley,
whose health was poor, was invited to return to the home of her
childhood, in another town, where her parents were still living. Jessie
was at that time attending the village academy, with a view of fitting
herself for the profession of teaching. With no slight struggle, she
relinquished this cherished purpose of her heart, and, as the readiest
way of supporting herself and aiding her mother, volunteered to work in
a factory. But in this hour of extremity, a new door was opened to her.
Mrs. Page and her family, who were next neighbors to the Hapleys, were
so much interested in the welfare of Jessie, that they offered her a
home for a season, on conditions that she could not well refuse. Her
services in the family were to be considered an equivalent for her
board, but she was to have the privilege of attending the academy. Her
mother was to provide her with clothes, and there was a prospect that
she would be able to offset her tuition bills, by rendering some
assistance to the lower classes. It was thought that by this arrangement
she would be enabled to enter upon her chosen work in less than a year.
On the morning with which our story opens, Mrs. Hapley had bidden her
daughter farewell, and started for the home of her parents. It was not
without a strange sinking of heart, and eyes blurred with tears, that
Jessie took leave of her mother and her old home; but nothing of this
was visible on her countenance, now. She was apparently as calm and
cheerful as any of those around her.
The family of which Jessie had now become an inmate, comprised the
following named persons: Mrs. Page, who was the widow of a sea-captain;
her sister, Miss Fanny Lee, usually called Aunt Fanny; Marcus, Mrs.
Page’s son, a young man in his nineteenth year, who had just served his
first term as assistant teacher in the academy, of which he was a
graduate; Ronald, an adopted son of Mrs. Page, about twelve years old;
and Oscar Preston, a nephew of Mrs. Page, in his sixteenth year, who
came to live with the family the previous fall. They lived upon a small
farm, in one of the pleasant hill towns of Vermont, which we shall call
Highburg.
Jessie at once began to busy herself with various household duties,
taking hold almost as handily as though she had been at home. Knowing
that constant occupation is a great security against desponding
thoughts, Mrs. Page was careful to provide her with something to employ
her time. It was “washing day,” and of course there was no lack of work.
In the course of the forenoon, Ronald came in, with his arms full of
rope and bunting, and exclaimed:
“There, mother, I’ve got my flag, at last. But just see how dirty it is.
Can’t you wash it, right off, so I can have it all bright and clean for
to-morrow?”
“Our washing is done, and on the line, and the suds are thrown away; so
you had better let it be till next Monday,” replied Mrs. Page.
“But who wants to hang up such a dirty thing as that on Washington’s
birth-day?” continued Ronald. “We’ve got our staff almost ready, and we
want to raise our flag to-morrow morning; but it’s all soiled, and
dingy—and here’s a big rip in it, too. Why, mother, haven’t you got any
patriotism at all? I should think you’d consider it an honor to wash the
stains out of your country’s flag.”
Mrs. Page smiled at this sally, but did not accede to Ronald’s request.
“Couldn’t I wash it out for him, Mrs. Page?” inquired Jessie.
“You can, if you choose to,” was the reply.
“That’s right, Jessie—you ought to have three cheers for your
patriotism, and I’ll give ’em to you to-morrow, when I hoist the flag,”
said Ronald, as Jessie commenced preparations for the work.
Ronald detached the flag from the rope, and then went out to the barn to
see how Oscar was getting on with the pole. He found it nearly ready for
its place, although only the day before it was a young tree in the
forest. As it was to be fastened to the gable of the barn, it was not
very large, but was tall, straight, and rounded in a smooth and uniform
manner. Oscar was now inserting into the top of it a small pulley or
grooved wheel for the line to run over. Ronald, meanwhile, went to work
upon the cap that was to surmount the whole, which he made out of a
wooden knob that belonged to an old bureau.
Before they had finished the staff, Jessie had washed the flag, and hung
it upon the line. It was much improved in appearance. Soon after Marcus
came along, and having examined the flag a minute or two, he entered the
barn, saying:
“Ronald, I don’t think you made much of a bargain when you bought that
flag.”
“You don’t? Why, what is the matter with it?” inquired Ronald.
“Oh, it’s an old thing, and it wasn’t made properly in the first place,
either,” replied Marcus.
“I don’t care, so long as it’s a flag,” said Ronald. “I’ll get that torn
place mended, and then I guess it will do.”
“I think it is altogether too large for your staff,” continued Marcus.
“I don’t think so,” replied Ronald.
“Besides, it strikes me it is not in good proportion,” added Marcus.
“I don’t care for that,” replied Ronald.
“And it has got only twenty-nine stars, when there ought to be
thirty-two,”[2] continued Marcus.
Footnote 2:
Thirty-two is the number at the time this is written, but there is a
prospect of an early increase of our family of States, which happy
event will of course add to the ever-enlarging galaxy of stars on our
national banner.
“Well, nobody would have noticed that if you hadn’t told us,” added
Ronald, somewhat vexed at these free criticisms of his flag.
“One star for every State in the Union, is the rule—I shouldn’t suppose
such a patriotic boy as you would ignore three of the States in the
confederacy,” added Marcus.
Ronald felt the force of these criticisms more than he was willing to
admit. The purchase of the flag was his own individual enterprise. He
gave in exchange for it sundry articles of personal property, and
flattered himself that he had made a good trade. And so, in fact, he
had, for flags cost more than Marcus imagined, and Ronald’s, though
somewhat dilapidated, was worth all that he gave for it. But Ronald did
not feel quite at ease about his bargain, after what Marcus had said. He
soon after had a conference with Jessie, and the result was apparent in
the evening, when that young lady undertook the task of making the flag
over new.
Jessie was somewhat at a loss where to begin upon the novel job she had
undertaken, and neither Ronald nor any of the family could give her much
light upon the subject. Marcus soon came in, however, and his advice was
sought.
“What do you propose to do with it?” was his first inquiry.
“I want to make it smaller, for one thing—you said it was too large,”
replied Ronald.
“Well,” said Marcus, surveying the flag quite calmly, as it lay spread
out upon the floor, “I’m afraid Jessie wont get much sleep to-night, if
you intend to have it ready to hoist in the morning. She will have to
rip the stripes apart, and make them all narrower; and then the blue
field and the stars will be too large, and they must all be altered; but
I don’t see exactly how that is to be done, for you can’t very well make
the holes for the stars any smaller.”
“But why can’t we take off one or two stripes, and cut a piece off the
length, and let it go so?” inquired Jessie.
“There is one slight objection to that,—it wouldn’t be an American
flag,” replied Marcus.
“Well, I don’t pretend to know much about the science of flags,” said
Jessie, smiling.
“You must have just thirteen stripes and thirty-two stars; didn’t you
know that?” inquired Ronald.
“The outside stripes must be red,” continued Marcus. “That gives us
seven red and six white stripes. The field for the stars should be
square, and of just the width of the first seven stripes.”
“This is right, then, as it is, and I don’t see how we can make it any
smaller without spoiling it,” said Jessie.
“I think it will bear shortening a little,” added Marcus, “and that will
make it look smaller, and give it better proportions, too. It should be
just one-half longer than it is broad. For instance, if it is four feet
broad, it should be six feet long. Let us measure it, and see how it
is.”
The flag was found to be too long, as Marcus suspected. So Jessie cut
off the superfluous part, mended the rents, added three new stars to the
field, and it was pronounced fit for service. Before sunrise, the next
morning, it was run up to the top of the staff on the barn, amid the
shouts of the boys. Soon after, the family were startled by a loud
report from behind the barn. All ran to ascertain the cause, and it was
found to proceed from a small cannon which Ronald had procured, in order
to add _eclat_ (which in this case means noise) to his celebration of
Washington’s birth-day. He had kept this little secret entirely to
himself, intending to surprise the family with this new proof of his
patriotism. But the surprise did not prove quite so pleasant as he
anticipated; for Marcus quickly took possession of the cannon and
ammunition, and the young patriot found himself so severely condemned by
all the family for playing with powder without leave, that he burst into
tears, and betook himself for a while to the uncensuring society of the
cows in the barn. So the bright sun of his hopes went into a cloud
before breakfast!
It was noticed by all that Jessie did not eat much at the table that
morning, and she did not appear to be in her usual good spirits. Ronald,
too, was uncommonly sober, and altogether it did not seem much like a
holiday. The flag, however, which was visible for a considerable
distance, soon drew together several of the boys and girls of the
neighborhood, and Ronald’s lengthened countenance gradually assumed its
wonted form. Among the visitors was Henry, Jessie’s brother, who, after
a while, inquired for his sister. Ronald went in search of her, but no
one could tell him where she was. At length, having looked everywhere
else, he ran up stairs, and thoughtlessly opened her chamber door,
without asking permission. Jessie was there, and as the door opened, she
closed a book that she held, with a startled look, and Ronald saw very
plainly that she had been weeping, although she quickly turned her face
away. Frightened at the impropriety of which he had been guilty, in thus
intruding upon her privacy, he made a ludicrous attempt at apology.
“I—I didn’t know you were here,” he said; “but I’ve been hunting for you
all over the house. Henry is down stairs, and wants to see you.”
“You may ask him to come up here,” replied Jessie, without turning her
face towards Ronald.
Henry went up to Jessie’s room, and remained with her some time. When he
came out, he, too, seemed more sober and silent than usual, and Ronald
half suspected, from his looks, that he had been crying. And so he had.
The fact was, both he and his sister were suffering from that
distressing malady—homesickness. It seems strange that one who has
exchanged a poor home for a better one, should pine after what he has
relinquished; but so it is. We cannot separate ourselves from the
friends with whom we have always lived, and the associations and haunts
with which we have for years been familiar, without suffering more or
less from homesickness, no matter into how excellent hands we may have
fallen. And this feeling is sometimes very prolonged and distressing,
especially with those who are exiled from their native land. A few years
ago, a German emigrant in Boston became insane from homesickness, and
bought a little boat, called a dory, which he fitted up in a peculiar
manner, with oars, sails, a canvas covering, and provisions for a
fortnight’s subsistence. He intended to put to sea in this frail skiff,
hoping, as he said, to reach his fatherland in twenty-two days. When
asked how he should supply himself with food, after his stock was
exhausted, he said he had a little money to buy more. Perhaps he thought
he should find a half-way house on the great deep, or meet a baker’s or
butcher’s cart, on the voyage.
Marcus had been sitting for an hour or more before a small portable
desk—a parting gift from his late pupils—which lay open upon the table
in the sitting-room, with papers and books scattered around it. He had
been engaged in studying a Greek lesson; for he intended at some future
day to enter college in an advanced class, and with this view was
continuing his studies. He was now leaning back in his chair, with his
eyes intently fixed upon the ceiling, while his thoughts were busily
engaged in trying to devise some way to relieve the melancholy of
Jessie, and to dispel the shadows which from sympathy seemed to be
stealing over other members of the family. After remaining in this
position about ten minutes, he stepped into the kitchen, and held a
short consultation with his mother and his aunt. He then went out to the
woodshed, where Oscar and Ronald were at work, and accosted them with—
“Boys, what do you say to getting up a little celebration of
Washington’s birth-day, this evening?”
“Good! First rate!” cried the impetuous Ronald, without giving Oscar a
chance to reply. “What kind of a celebration shall we have? If I were
you, I’d have the whole house illuminated, or else I’d build a great
bonfire on the hill, that will show off all over town—wouldn’t that be
grand, Oscar?”
“That isn’t exactly the kind of a celebration that I was thinking of,”
said Marcus. “What I propose is, to invite in a few of our young
acquaintances, and have an oration, and some appropriate music, and
perhaps a tableau or two. How does that strike you, Oscar?”
“I think it’s a good idea; but who can get an oration ready, in so
little time?” inquired Oscar.
“O, we can manage that—the oration will be the easiest part to arrange,”
replied Marcus.
“But why couldn’t we have a bonfire, too?—I’ll take the whole care of
it,” interposed Ronald, who just now thought more of material than
mental illumination.
“I am afraid that might draw together more company than we want,”
replied Marcus, “and so interfere with our indoor arrangements. I think
you had better give up that idea.”
Ronald readily assented to this, and Marcus appointed him and Oscar a
“committee of arrangements,” to invite guests, and make other
preparations for the festival, giving them such instructions as he
deemed necessary. He afterwards added Jessie to this committee, who
entered into the plan with much interest. Marcus then returned to his
studies, leaving the affair almost entirely in the hands of the
committee.
The committee at once began to discuss the order of arrangements, and
the leading features of the celebration were soon decided upon. The work
of preparation was then divided among the committee, a particular line
of duties being assigned to each member. As the front parlor, usually
called “the best room,” was the largest apartment, it was selected as
the place of entertainment, and Jessie at once commenced preparing it
for the occasion. She removed to this room an engraved portrait of
Washington, which hung in one of the chambers, and then despatched
Ronald to the woods for some evergreens, with which to adorn its old
black frame. She also found an old engraving of the Washington mansion
at Mount Vernon, among a large collection of prints in Miss Lee’s
closet, which she had liberty to overhaul. When Ronald returned, she
made a pretty frame of evergreen for this, and hung it by the side of
the portrait. A small work table, intended to serve as the orator’s
desk, was placed directly in front of these pictures, so that one would
appear on either side of him. The wall back of the table was further
ornamented by a large star in evergreen, and several wreaths and
festoons were displayed in other parts of the room.
[Illustration: [Washington and his Home]]
Jessie seemed in better spirits at noon, and talked with much interest
of the anticipated celebration. The committee continued their labors in
the afternoon, and apparently had about as much on their hands as they
could conveniently manage. This was especially true of Ronald, who did
not seem content to do less than three or four things at once. Before
sunset, however, the business was finished; and when Marcus came home,
he found on his desk the following paper, in the handwriting of Jessie,
with the exception of one line—the last—which was evidently an
interpolation by Ronald:
PROGRAMME
FOR THE
CELEBRATION OF WASHINGTON’S BIRTH-DAY.
1. Music—“Washington’s Grand March”—piano-forte.
2. Reading of a sketch of Washington’s Life, by Jessie Hapley.
3. Music—“Hail Columbia”—sung by the Company.
4. Webster’s Oration on Washington, read by Mr. Marcus Page.
5. Music—“My country, ’tis of thee”—sung by the company.
6. Tableau.
7. Music—“Yankee Doodle”—piano-fort.
8. Going Home with the Girls.
Early in the evening the company assembled, embracing eight or ten lads
and misses from the neighborhood, among whom was Henry Hapley. The old
parlor never looked more beautiful, with its generous wood-fire blazing
upon the hearth, its extra display of lamps disposed around the room,
its decorations in evergreen and bunting, (for Ronald’s flag was hauled
down at sunset, and now figured as drapery around the “orator’s desk,”)
and its rows of smiling faces duly arranged in audience fashion. The
programme was carried out in a style that gave the utmost satisfaction.
One of the guests, a young lady, furnished the instrumental portion of
the music, while all joined in the singing. By way of refreshing the
memories of the audience, Jessie read from a book a brief summary of the
leading events in Washington’s life, concluding by reading a poem on the
same subject, from a popular English authoress, (Miss Eliza Cook,)
commencing,
“Land of the west! though passing brief
The record of thine age,
Thou hast a name that darkens all
On history’s wide page!”
The oration, which was well delivered by Marcus, consisted of the
principal portion of Webster’s eloquent address on the centennial
anniversary of the birth-day of Washington. The tableau was exhibited in
an adjoining room, the door being opened to the “audience,” when the
figure was arranged. It was a scene that had been enacted at a Christmas
party in which most of the people of the town participated, two months
previous. The figure represented was “Liberty,” which was personated by
a beautiful girl, arrayed in flowing antique drapery, holding with one
hand a staff, on the top of which hung a liberty cap, and with the other
hand supporting a shield bearing the United States arms. As the company
were crowded around the door,—which they were not allowed to
pass,—gazing at the tableau, Rover, a handsome spaniel, who had been
sleeping all the evening under a table in the room devoted to “Liberty,”
now came forth to see what the stir was all about. At a sly signal from
his young master, Ronald, he saluted the goddess with one of his loudest
barks, at which everybody laughed except the statue-like figure; and it
is not improbable that she moved the muscles of her face a trifle, for
Rover seemed suddenly to recognize her and, wagging his shaggy tail, he
lay down by her side, close to the shield, as much as to say,—
“Ah, yes, I understand it, now. This is Miss Liberty, and I am bound to
be her protector and defender.”
This unexpected addition to the tableau was received with a shout that
upset the gravity even of Liberty herself, and she joined in the laugh,
while the piano-forte struck up “Yankee Doodle” in the liveliest style,
and the guests began to hunt up their hoods and caps, in anticipation of
the grand finale smuggled into the programme by Ronald, who, by the way,
in consideration of his tender years, was excused from any participation
in _that_ performance.
So ended the memorable twenty-second. There were half a dozen sound
sleepers in the house, that night, but dull Care and the dolorous Blues
and Dumps could find no chance to lodge there!