We were all happily seated around the fire; the grate was piled up high
with coal, and threw a bright reflection upon the polished
marble--everything was ready to begin, when a most unfortunate question
of my sister Emma's interfered with our progress. She had settled
herself on a low stool at my grandmother's feet, and while we all sat in
silent expectation of the "once upon a time," or "when I was young,"
which is generally the prelude to similar narratives, Emma suddenly
started up, and fixing an incredulous gaze upon our dignified relative,
exclaimed: "But were you _ever_ young, grandmother? I mean," she
continued, a little frightened at her own temerity, "were you ever as
little as I am now?"
Some of us began to cough, others used their pocket-handkerchiefs, and
one and all waited in some anxiety for the effect. Emma, poor child!
seemed almost ready to sink through the floor under the many astonished
and reproving glances which she encountered; and my grandmother's
countenance at first betokened a gathering storm.
But in a few moments this cleared up; and ashamed of her momentary anger
at this childish question, she placed her hand kindly on Emma's head as
she replied: "Yes, Emma, quite as little as you are--and it is of those
very times that I am going to tell you. I shall not begin at the
beginning, but speak of whatever happens to enter my mind, and a
complete history of my childhood will probably furnish employment for a
great many evenings. But I am very much averse to interruptions, and if
you have any particular questions to ask, all inquiries must be made
before I commence."
"Were you born and did you live in America?" said I.
"Yes," replied my grandmother, "I was born and lived in America, in the
State of New York. So much for the locality--now, what next?"
"Did you ever see Washington?" inquired Bob, "And were you ever taken
prisoner and had your house burned by the British?"
Bob was a great patriot, and on Saturdays practised shooting in the
attic with a bow and arrow, to perfect himself against the time of his
attaining to man's estate, when he fully intended to collect an army and
make an invasion on England. As an earnest of his hostile intentions, he
had already broken all the windows on that floor, and nearly
extinguished the eye of Betty, the chambermaid. To both of these
questions my grandmother replied in the negative, for she happened to
come into the world just after the Revolution; but in answer to Bob's
look of disappointment, she promised to tell him something about it in
the course of her narrative.
"My two most prominent faults," said she, "were vanity and curiosity,
and these both led me into a great many scrapes, which I shall endeavor
to relate for your edification. I shall represent them just as they
really were, and if I do not make especial comments on each separate
piece of misconduct, it is because I leave you to judge for yourselves,
by placing them in their true light. I shall not tell you the year I was
born in," she continued, "for then there would be a counting on certain
little fingers to see how old grandmamma is now. When I was a child--a
_very_ young one--I used to say that I remembered very well the day on
which I was born, for mother was down stairs frying dough-nuts. This
nondescript kind of cake was then much more fashionable for the
tea-table than it is at the present day. My mother was quite famous for
her skill in manufacturing them, and my great delight was to superintend
her operations, and be rewarded for good behavior with a limited
quantity of dough, which I manufactured into certain uncouth images,
called 'dough-nut babies.' Sometimes these beloved creations of genius
performed rather curious gymnastics on being placed in the boiling
grease--such as twisting on one side, throwing a limb entirely over
their heads, &c.; while not unfrequently a leg or an arm was found
missing when boiled to the requisite degree of hardness. But sometimes,
oh, sad to relate! my fingers committed such unheard-of depredations in
the large bowl or tray appropriated by my mother, that I was sentenced
to be tied in a high chair drawn close to her side, whence I could
quietly watch her proceedings without being able to assist her.
I know that our home was situated in a pleasant village which has long
since disappeared in the flourishing city; the house was of white brick,
three stories high, with rooms on each side of the front entrance. A
large and beautiful flower-garden was visible from the back windows; and
beyond this was a still larger fruit-garden, the gate of which was
generally locked, while a formidable row of nails with the points up,
repelled all attempts at climbing over the fence. The peaches, and
plums, apricots, nectarines, grapes, cherries, and apples were such as I
have seldom, if ever, seen since. My lather was wealthy, and my earliest
recollections are connected with large, handsomely-furnished rooms,
numerous servants, massive plate, and a constant succession of
dinner-parties and visitors. How often have I watched the servants as
they filled the decanters, rubbed the silver, and made other
preparations for company, while I drew comparisons between the lot of
the favored beings for whom these preparations were made, and my own, on
being condemned to the unvarying routine of the nursery. Childhood then
appeared to me a kind of penance which we were doomed to undergo--a sort
of imprisonment or chrysalis, which, like the butterfly, left us in a
fairy-like and beautiful existence. Little did I then dream of the
cares, and toils, and troubles from which that happy season is exempt.
My father realized in his own person, to the fullest extent, all the
traditionary legends of old English hospitality; he hated everything
like parsimony--delighted to see his table surrounded with visitors--and
in this was indulged to the extent of his wishes; for day after day
seemed to pass in our being put out of sight, where we could witness the
preparations going on for other people's entertainment.
The presiding goddess in our region of the house was a faithful and
attached old nurse, whom we all called 'Mammy.' Although sometimes a
little sharp, as was necessary to keep such wild spirits in order, the
old nurse was invariably kind, and even indulgent. It was well indeed
for us that she was so, for we were left almost entirely to her
direction, and saw very little of any one else. Mammy's everyday attire
consisted of a calico short-gown, with large figures, and a stuff
petticoat, with a cap whose huge ruffles stood up in all directions;
made after a pattern which I have never since beheld, and in which the
crown formed the principal feature. But this economical dress was not
for want of means; for Mammy's wardrobe boasted several silk gowns, and
visitors seldom stayed at the house without making her a present. On
great occasions, she approached our beau-ideal of an empress, by
appearing in a black silk dress lace collar, and gold repeater at her
side. This particular dress Mammy valued more highly than any of the
others, for my father had brought it to her, as a present, from Italy,
and the pleasant consciousness of being recollected in this manner by
her master was highly gratifying to the old nurse.
I was an only daughter, with several wild brothers, and I often thought
that Mammy displayed most unjust partiality. For instance, there was
Fred who never did anything right--upset his breakfast, dinner, and
tea--several times set the clothes-horse, containing the nursery
wardrobe, in a blaze--was forever getting lost, and, when sought for,
often found dangling from a three-story window, hanging on by two
fingers, and even one--who would scarcely have weighed a person's life
in the scale with a successful joke--and always had a finger, foot, or
eye bound up as the result of his hair-brained adventures. I really
believe that Mammy bestowed all a mother's affection on this wild,
reckless boy; he seldom missed an opportunity of being impertinent, and
yet Mammy invariably said that 'Fred had a saucy tongue, but a good
heart.' This _good-heartedness_ probably consisted in drowning kittens,
worrying dogs, and throwing stones at every bird he saw. Fred always had
the warmest seat, the most thickly-buttered bread and the largest piece
of pie. I remember one day on watching Mammy cut the pie, I observed, as
usual, that she reserved the largest piece.
"Who is that for?" I enquired, although perfectly aware of its intended
destination.
"O, no one in particular," replied Mammy.
"Well then" said I, "I believe I'll take it."
"There! there!" exclaimed Mammy, pointing her finger at me, "See the
greedy girl! Now you shall not have it, just for asking for it." The
disputed piece was immediately deposited on Fred's plate; and from that
day forth I gave up all hopes of the largest piece of pie.
O, that Fred was an imp! There was nothing in the shape of mischief,
which he would not do. If left to amuse the baby, he often amused
himself by tying a string to its toe, and every now and then giving it a
sudden pull. The child would cry, of course, and, on the approach of any
one, Master Fred sat looking as demure as possible, while trying to keep
his little brother quiet. The string would then be twitched again for
his own private edification; and it was sometime before the trick was
discovered. My brother Henry had at one time several little chickens, of
which he became very fond. Day after day he fed, admired, and caressed
them; and Fred, who never could bear to see others happy long, began to
revolve in his own mind certain plans respecting the chickens. One by
one they disappeared, until the number decreased alarmingly; but no
traces of them could be found. We were questioned, but, as all denied
the charge, the culprit remained undiscovered, although strong
suspicions rested on Fred. At last the indignant owner came upon him one
day, as he stood quietly watching the struggles of two little chickens
in a tub of water. Henry bitterly exclaimed against this cruelty, but
Fred innocently replied that "he had no hand in the matter; he had
thought, for some time, how much prettier they would look swimming like
ducks, and therefore tried to teach them--but the foolish things
persisted in walking along with their eyes shut, and so got drowned."
But one of Fred's grand _coup-d'oeils_ was the affair of the
cherry-pie. In those days ladies attended more to their household
affairs than they do at present; and my mother, an excellent
housekeeper, was celebrated for her pastry--cherry-pies in particular.
It was the Fourth of July; the boys were released from school, and
roaming about in quest of mischief as boys always are--and, as a rare
thing, we had no company that day, except my aunt, who had come from a
distance on a visit to my mother, while my father had gone to return one
of the numerous visits paid him. Cherry-pie was a standing dish at our
house with which to celebrate the Declaration of Independence. The
servants had all gone out for a holiday, no dinner was cooked, and the
sole dependence was on the cherry-pie.
They sat down to dinner, and I heard my mother say: "Now, sister Berthy,
I really hope you will enjoy this pie, for I bestowed extra pains upon
it, and placed it up in the bed-room pantry out of the boys' reach, who
are very apt to nibble off the edge of the crust. This time, I see, they
have not meddled with it."
The pie was cut; but alas! for the hollowness of human triumphs; the
knife met a wilderness of crust and vacancy, but no cherries. The
bed-room pantry had a window opening on a shed, and into that window
Fred, the scape-grace, had adroitly climbed, carefully lifted the upper
crust from the cherished pie, and abstracted all the cherries. My mother
locked him up, for punishment, but having unfortunately selected a sort
of store-room pantry, he made himself sick with sweetmeats, broke all
the jars he could lay hands on, and, finally, discovering a pair of
scissors, he worked at the lock, spoiled it, and let himself out.
At one time, being rather short of cash, he helped himself to a
five-dollar bill from my mother's drawer; but even _his_ conscience
scarcely resting under so heavy an embezzlement, he got it changed, took
half a dollar, and then put the rest back in the drawer. This
considerateness led to a discovery; they all knew that no one but Fred
would have been guilty of so foolish, and at the same time so dishonest
a thing.
My favorite brother was Henry; just three years older than myself,
manly, amiable, and intellectual in his tastes, he appeared to me
infinitely superior to any one I had ever seen; and we two were almost
inseparable. In winter he always carried me to school on his sled, saw
that Fred did not rob me of my dinner, and was always ready to explain a
difficult lesson. He was an extremely enterprising boy, with an
inexhaustible fund of ingenuity and invention; but, like most geniuses,
received more blame than praise. When quite small he constructed a sort
of gun made of wood, which would discharge a small ball of paper,
pebble, &c. This became a very popular plaything in the nursery, and for
once the inventor received due praise, on account of its keeping the
children so quiet. But one day Fred undertook to teach the year old baby
the art of shooting with it; and with a small corn for a bullet, he
placed the toy in the child's hands, turning the mouth the wrong way.
The young soldier pulled the trigger in delight, and by some strange
mischance, the corn flew up his nose. The doctor was hastily brought,
the child relieved with a great deal of difficulty, the dangerous
plaything burned, and poor Henry sent to coventry for an unlimited time.