DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE.
"Oh!" cried Fanny, as they were again walking upon the smooth meadow,
in the afternoon, "I think we ought to go and get some apples!"
"And so do I," said Ralph.
"Of course, I expected you to agree with me, sir."
"Naturally; I always do."
This observation was remotely satirical, and Miss Fanny resented it.
"You are the most contentious person I ever knew," she said.
"Am I?" asked Ralph.
"Yes, sir."
"That is fortunate."
"Why?"
"Because, difference of opinion is the soul of conversation, and as
you never disagree with anybody, we could not converse. Observe how
the syllogism comes out?"
"Fine logician!"
"Lovely damsel!"
"Mr. College-Graduate!"
"Miss School-Girl!"
"School-girl!"
"College-graduate!"
And after this exchange of compliments, the parties walked on,
mutually pleased with each other.
Redbud and Verty followed them, and they soon arrived at the old
orchard.
Behind the party followed Longears, whose presence, throughout the
day, we have very improperly neglected to mention; but as that
inquisitive animal was, during the whole morning, roaming, at his own
wild will, the neighboring fields--prying into the holes of various
wild animals, and exchanging silent commentaries with the Apple
Orchard dogs--this omission will not appear very heinous.
Longears had now regaled himself with a comfortable dinner, the last
bone of which he had licked--and having thus, like a regular and
respectable citizen, taken care of the material, was busily engaged
again in the intellectual pursuit of his enemies, the squirrels,
butterflies and bees, at which he barked and dashed at times with
great vigor and enthusiasm.
"Look at him," said Redbud; "why does he dislike the butterflies?"
"Only fun," said Verty; "he often does that. Here, Longears!"
Longears approached, and Verty pointed to the ground. Longears laid
down.
"Stay there!" said Verty.
And smiling, he walked on.
Redbud laughed, and turning round made signs to the dog to follow
them. Longears, however, only moved his head uneasily, and wagged his
tail with eloquent remonstrance.
"Let him come, Verty," said the girl.
Verty smiled, and made a movement of the hand, which, from the
distance of a hundred yards, raised Longears three feet into the air.
Returning from this elevation to the earth again, he darted off over
the fields after the bees and swallows.
The young men and their companions smiled, and strolled on. They
reached the old orchard, and ran about among the trees picking up
apples--now the little soft yellow crab apples--then the huge, round,
ruddy pippins--next the golden-coat bell apples, oblong and mellow,
which had dropped from pure ripeness from the autumn boughs.
Verty had often climbed into the old trees, and filled his cap with
the speckled eggs of black-birds, or found upon the fence here,
embowered in the foliage, the slight nests of doves, each with its
two eggs, white and transparent almost; and the recollection made him
smile.
They gathered a number of the apples, and then strolled on, and eat a
moment with the pleasant overseer's wife.
A number of little curly-headed boys had been rolling like apples on
the grass as they approached; fat-armed and chubby-legged, and making
devoted advances to Longears, who, descending from his dignity, rolled
with them in the sunshine. These now approached, and the young girls
patted their heads, and Mr. Ralph gave them some paternal advice, and
the good housewife, spinning in her cane-bottom chair with straight
tall back, smiled pleasantly, and curtsied.
The baby (there always was a baby at the overseer's) soon made his
appearance, as babies will do everywhere; and then the unfortunate
young curly-heads of riper age were forced to return once more to the
grass and play with Longears--they were forgotten.
To describe the goings on of the two young ladies with that baby is
wholly out of the question. They quarreled for it, chucked it in their
arms, examined its toes with critical attention, and conversed with it
in barbarous baby language, which was enough, Ralph said, to drive a
man distracted. They asked it various questions--were delighted with
its replies--called its attention to the chickens--and evidently
labored under the impression that it understood. They addressed the
baby uniformly in the neuter gender, and requested to know whether it
was not their darling. To all which the baby replied with thoughtful
stares, only occasionally condescending to laugh. The feet having been
examined again--there is much in babies' feet--the party smiled and
went away, calling after baby to the last.
"Now, that's all affectation," said Ralph; "you young ladies--"
"You're a barbarian, sir!" replied Fanny, with great candor.
"I know I am."
"I'm glad you do."
"But," continued Ralph, "tell me now, really, do you young girls
admire babies?"
"Certainly _I_ do--"
"And I," said Redbud.
"They're the sweetest, dearest things in all the world," continued
Fanny, "and the man who don't like babies--"
"Is a monster, eh?"
"Far worse, sir!"
And Fanny laughed.
"That is pleasant to know," said Ralph; "then I'm a monster."
Having arrived at which highly encouraging conclusion, the young man
whistled.
"I say," he said, suddenly, "I wanted to ask--"
"Well, sir?" said Fanny.
"Before we leave the subject--"
"What subject?"
"Babies."
"Well, ask on."
"I wish to know whether babies talk."
"Certainly!"
"Really, now?"
"Yes."
"And you understand them?"
"_I_ do," said Fanny.
"What does 'um, um,' mean? I heard that baby say 'um, um,'
distinctly."
Fanny burst out laughing.
"Oh, I know!" she said, "when I gave him an apple."
"Yes."
"It meant, 'that is a very nice apple, and I would like to have
some.'"
"Did it?"
"Of course."
"Suppose, then, it had been a crab-apple, and the baby had still said
'um, um,' what would it then have meant?"
"Plainly this: 'that is not a nice apple, and I would not like to have
any.'"
"That is perfectly satisfactory," said Ralph;"'um, um,' expresses
either the desire to possess a sweet apple, or the objection to a sour
one. I have heard of delicate shades of language before, but this is
the sublimity thereof."
And Ralph laughed.
"I never saw such a person," said Fanny, pouting.
"By the bye," said Ralph.
"Well, sir?"
"What was there so interesting in the toes?"
"They were lovely."
"Anything else?"
"Beautiful."
"That all? Come, now, tell me the charm in those feet which you young
ladies designated, I remember, as 'teensy,' and expressed your desire
to 'tiss.' Shocking perversion of the king's English--and in honor of
nothing but two dirty little feet!" said Ralph.
The storm which was visited upon Ralph's unhappy head for this
barbarous criticism was dreadful. Fanny declared, in express terms,
that he was a monster, an ogre, and with a stone in his breast instead
of a heart. To which Mr. Ralph replied, that the best writers of
ancient and modern times had nowhere designated as a monster the man
who was not in raptures at the sight of babies;--whereupon Miss Fanny
declared her disregard of writers in general, and her preference for
babies--at which stage of the discussion Ralph began to whistle.
Why not catch the laughter of those youthful lips, and tell how
the young men and maidens amused themselves that fine autumn day?
Everything innocent and fresh is beautiful--and there are eyes which
shine more brightly than the sun, voices which make a softer music
than the breezes of October in the laughing trees. Redbud's face and
voice had this innocence and joy in it--there was pleasure in the very
sound of it; and such a delicate kind of light in the soft eyes, that
as they went, the young men felt more pure, and bowed to her, as
something better than themselves--of higher nature.
The light of Fanny's eyes was more brilliant; but Redbud's were of
such softness that you forgot all else in gazing at them--lost your
heart, looking into their lucid depths of liquid light.
One heart was irremediably lost long since, and, gone away into the
possession of the young lady. This was Verty's; and as they went
along he gazed so tenderly at the young girl, that more than once
she blushed, and suffered the long lashes to fall down upon her rosy
cheek.
Fanny was talking with Ralph;--for these young gentlemen had made the
simple and admirable arrangement, without in the least consulting
the ladies, that Verty should always entertain and be entertained by
Redbud, Ralph quarrel with, and be quarreled with, by Fanny.
Each, on the present occasion, was carrying out his portion of the
contract; that is to say, Verty and Redbud were quietly smiling at
each other; Ralph and Fanny were exchanging repartees.
They came thus to the knoll which they had stopped upon in the
forenoon.
The fine kite--tied to a root, as we have said--was hovering far up
among the clouds, swaying and fluttering its streamers in the wind:
the various colors of the paper, and the flowers almost wholly
indiscernible, so high had it ascended.
"Look!" said Fanny, "there it is up among the swallows, which are
flying around it as if they never saw a kite before."
"Female swallows, doubtless," observed Ralph, carelessly.
"Female? Pray, why?"
"Because they have so much curiosity; see, you have made me utter what
is not common with me."
"What, sir?"
"A bad witticism."
Fanny laughed, and replied, gazing at the kite:
"Your witticisms are, of course, always, fine--no doubt very classic;
now I will send up a messenger on the string. Redbud, have you a piece
of paper?"
Redbud drew the paper from her apron pocket, and gave it to Fanny,
with a smile.
Fanny tore the yellow scrap into a circle, and in the centre of this
circle made a hole as large as her finger.
"Now, Mr. Ralph, please untie the string from the root."
"With pleasure," said the young man; "for you, my heart's delight, I
would--"
"Come, come, sir! you make an oration upon every occasion!"
With many remonstrances at being thus unceremoniously suppressed, Mr.
Ralph knelt down, and untied the string.
"Does it pull strongly, Mr. Ralph?" said Redbud, smiling.
"Oh, yes! you know it was nearly as tall as myself--just try."
"The messenger first!" cried Fanny.
And she slipped it over the string.
"Now, Miss Redbud, just try!" said Ralph.
Redbud wrapped the string around her hand, and Ralph let it go.
"How do you like it!" he said.
"Oh!" cried Redbud, "it is so strong!--there must be a great wind in
the clouds!--Oh!" added the girl, laughing, "it is cutting my hand in
two!"
And she caught the string with her left hand to relieve the afflicted
member.
"Give it to me!" cried Fanny.
"Yes, give it to her; she has the arm of an Amazon," said Ralph,
enthusiastically.
"Humph!"
And having entered this, her standing protest, Fanny laughed, and
unwound the string from Redbud's hand, on whose white surface two
crimson circles were visible.
"I can hold it!" cried the young girl, "easily!"
And to display her indifference, Fanny knelt on one knee to pick up
her gloves.
The consequence of this movement was, that the heavy kite, struck,
doubtless, at the moment by a gust of wind, jerked the lady with the
Amazonian arm so violently, that, unable to retain her position, she
fell upon her left hand, then upon her face, and was dragged a pace or
two by the heavy weight.
"By Jove!" cried Ralph, running to her, "did anybody--"
"Oh, take care!" exclaimed Redbud, hastening to her friend's
assistance.
"It is nothing!" Fanny said; "I can hold it."
And to prove this, she let go the string, which was cutting her hand
in two.
The poor kite! loosed from the sustaining hand, from the earth, which,
so to speak, held it up--it sees its hopes of elevation in the world
all dashed with disappointment and obscured. It is doomed!
But no! A new friend comes to its rescue--deserted by the lords and
ladies of creation, the lesser creature takes it under his protection.
Longears is the rescuer. Longears has watched the messenger we have
mentioned with deep interest, as it lays upon the string and flutters;
Longears imagines that it is a bee of the species called yellow-jacket
challenging him to combat. Consequently, Longears no sooner sees the
string dart from Fanny's hand, than believing the enemy about to
escape him, he springs toward it and catches it in his mouth.
Longears catches a tartar; but too brave to yield without a struggle,
rolls upon the ground, grinding the yellow enemy, and the string
beneath his teeth.
His evolutions on the grass wrap the string around his feet and neck;
Longears is taken prisoner, and finds himself dragged violently over
the ground.
Brave and resolute before a common enemy, Longears fears this unknown
adversary. Overcome with superstitious awe, he howls; endeavoring to
howl again, he finds his windpipe grasped by his enemy. The howl turns
into a wheeze. His eyes start from his head; his jaws open; he rolls
on the grass; leaps in the air; puts forth the strength of a giant,
but in vain.
It is at this juncture that Verty runs up and severs the string with
his hunting-knive; whereat Longears, finding himself released, rubs
his nose vigorously with his paws, sneezes, and lies down with an
unconscious air, as if nothing had happened. He is saved.
The kite, however, is sacrified. Justly punished for wounding Redbud's
hand, throwing Miss Fanny on her face, and periling the life of
Longears, the unfortunate kite struggles a moment in the clouds,
staggers from side to side, like a drunken man, and then caught by
a sudden gust, sweeps like a streaming comet down into the autumn
forest, and is gone.
Fanny is wiping her hands, which are somewhat soiled; the rest of
the company are laughing merrily at the disappearance of the kite;
Longears is gravely and seriously contemplating the yellow enemy with
whom he has struggled so violently, and whose conqueror he believes
himself to be.
This was the incident so frequently spoken of by Mr. Ralph Ashley
afterwards, as the Bucolic of the kite.