THE HISTORY OF THE BALL; WITH THE STORY OF THE POOR OLD WIDOW WHO MADE
IT.
"If I were not of a very lively character," remarked the Ball, "I should
feel rather shy at making my first appearance as a story teller. But you
know all people of my giddy habits are not much given to serious
consideration. We make a bold spring and bound down into the middle of a
matter, while all the graver folks are nervously trembling on the very
brink. And so, instead of beginning at the very first chapter of my
story, and telling you that I first grew on an animal's back as skin,
and was then turned into leather, I will skip the dry part of my
history, and begin with some of my later impressions."
"Now," said the Humming-top, gravely, "I think I must rather protest
against this summary way of disposing of some of the most interesting
facts respecting your origin. I should like to know a little more about
you, my dear friend. Pray indulge us with all the particulars of your
early years: your first recollections."
"I had thought," said the Ball, modestly, "that all these minute facts
could hardly be very interesting, and I have a great fear of tiring out
your attention, and of being called _prosy_," added he, slily.
"That is impossible," answered the Humming-top, in a pompous manner;
"let me beg of you to relieve our curiosity. I am sure I may speak for
all the rest of our friends," said he, with a very solemn bow to each
member of the party. The Toys, only too ready to enjoy the least
variation of their long retired life, eagerly agreed, and the Ball
resumed his story:--
"I am afraid I am not very clever at giving accurate descriptions of
things in which I don't take much interest, and as you may suppose my
real life only begun when all my several portions were collected
together. I am composed, as you see, of several sections, each of the
same size and shape, but all varying in colour and material. This
quarter of me is composed of two portions of a pale, tawny leather; and
this grew on the back of a fine robust young lamb, who frisked away his
brief life on a sunny pasture in Denmark. He formed one of the members
of a huge flock of sheep, belonging to a well-to-do farmer, whose riches
in herds of cattle and flocks of sheep were accumulating for the dowry
of his only child Mari. She was the best dowered maiden for fifty miles
round, and though young in her teens, made the yellowest butter and
firmest cheese for three villages round. Her father was a thrifty,
enterprising man, who was especially successful in rearing fine lambs;
thereby giving his old bachelor brother the tanner, plenty of employment
in dressing the hides and fleeces, thus keeping "two mills going at
once," as he said. The old tanner had a trade secret of his own for
curing the skins in some peculiar way with the bark of the willows that
grew so plentifully on the borders of the stream that ran through his
tan yards. No one's hides sold so readily as old Johann Nilson's, or
fetched so good a price in the market. They were entirely reserved for
making gloves, and exported to England for that purpose.
"The next two sections of my figure are, as you see, of a bright scarlet
colour; and, like those two on the opposite side, which are of a rich
dark blue, are made of morocco leather. This is made from the skin of
Spanish goats, carefully tanned with oak bark, and then dyed on the
grain side. The crimson portion owes its hue to being steeped in a bath
with the little cochineal insect; and the blue to indigo. It is then
curried and glazed till it becomes as shining and smooth as you see it.
"Half of my fourth and last section is made of kid that was once pure
white; and of the same kind as that used for ladies' gloves and boots.
But time and rough usage have turned it now to a somewhat dingy hue.
This was made from the skin of a calf, which was carefully steeped in
baths of lime and bran, and then dressed with flour paste, and well
stretched; being finally polished and smoothed with hot irons. This came
from France, and after all this toil and care bestowed upon it, was
beautifully soft and white, as supple as you could desire, and ready to
be made into gloves. The other half of my last portion is formed of what
is called chamois leather, being made from the skin of a lively little
chamois that in vain once fled along Alpine peaks to escape his fleet
hunter. The only part that now remains to account for is the small round
portion at each end, which, from its dark, peculiar, tawny hue and
pleasant scent, you have no doubt recognised as Russia leather. This,
which is so highly prized because insects will not destroy it, or damp
penetrate through it, owes much of its virtue to its being tanned with
the bark of the graceful birch tree.
"I have now, I think, satisfied even my friend the Humming-top, and may
proceed to tell you that these several portions of my frame, coming as
they did from various countries, and owing their colour and texture to
different ways of preparing them, were all stored together in a very
large wholesale warehouse, in a narrow, gloomy lane in the heart of
London. These were all sold out again to travel once more, some to the
glove-making counties; others to great shoe factories; some to makers of
dressing cases and purses; others to grocers in town or country for
polishing plate and glass. With all this general separation, there were
a good many stray pieces, some torn off by accident, others used for
pattern samples, which were always carefully collected, down to the
smallest bits, and put into an old box by the boy who swept the
warehouse. His master allowed him to collect them each week and carry
them home to his mother, a poor, industrious widow, who earned a scanty
living for her children and herself by making toys for a shop in the
suburbs.
"The eldest son, Sam, was shop-boy at this great leather warehouse; and
feeling the importance of his position as the man of the family, and the
only one receiving regular wages, and being in a place, he was not a
little proud. He drew himself up on tip-toe, for he was, unluckily,
rather short for his age, and spoke in the deepest tones he could make
his naturally squeaky voice take, which sounded like the chirp of the
cuckoo, when "in leafy June, he is out of tune!" But Sam was a good boy,
and loved his mother and little sisters dearly, and would have bristled,
like an angry cock robin, in the smallest but fiercest displeasure, if
any one had tried to invade the parent nest.
"It was Saturday night, and Sam was very tired, for he was at everyone's
call, being the youngest and smallest there; and though he was pert and
perky, he was good-natured and willing, so his poor thin legs had been
well trotted about. But tired as he was, he gave a careful look round
for any stray bits, and then tucked his little old box under his arm,
and walked home. He stopped at the door of a very dingy house, up a
dark, dirty court, and opening it, mounted the close, steep staircase.
After climbing up two stories, he sat down to rest awhile, to get breath
to mount the last one. At last he wearily picked up the box, and, step
by step, painfully went up to the door of the back room. And this was
his _home_, his only idea of comfort and rest after his long day's toil.
But his mother was a good and tender woman, and though she had only this
one small room to dwell in, where her three children and herself lived
and slept, she tried her very best to keep it as wholesome and cheerful
as she could, with the poor means she had.
"A pleasant place it seemed to poor little Sam as he went in, with the
kettle singing merrily on the hob, and the summer sunset shining in over
the tall chimney-pots, through a clean window, between two cracked pots
of blooming mignonette. Many little children were, no doubt, going to
bed then in country cottages, tired out with their long rambles in
country lanes--dirty with dust and forbidden mud-pies--and hungry for
the crust of very dry bread--but healthy from their day's long breathing
of pure air. But Sam only exchanged the close city warehouse, with its
disagreeable smell of leather, for that of a room in which his mother
and sisters breathed most of the day the smoky air among the chimney
tops. In he came, only too glad to rest, and thankful for the warm tea
his mother had ready for him. And then he showed his treasure of pieces
of leather, such a big bundle this time, that little Susan clapped her
hands quite gaily; and his mother said that there was enough for a half
score dozen of balls at least!
"The poor widow made leather balls to sell to a toy shop; her eldest
girl, Jemima, always called Jemmie, made little toy bedsteads, for she
had been lame from her birth. Little Susan, the youngest, helped as well
as she could by making the little bolsters and mattresses for the dolls'
bedsteads, which were to form the toys of luckier and younger children.
She was a grave little morsel, with long thin, _thin_ limbs, and hollow
cheeks--but she would have been pretty, with her large soft blue eyes
and long yellow hair, if she had been well fed and healthy.
"Their mother took the box of leather scraps from Sam, and having made
him comfortable at his meagre tea, she began at once to arrange her
work; for the last week she had quite used up all her scraps, and had
been obliged to use her spare time in helping Jemmie with the bedsteads.
So she picked out the colours, and laid her card patterns on them, and
cut them with as little waste as possible, and as I was the first ball
she finished that evening, I saw and heard all that ensued.
"'Are you very tired Sam,' she asked, 'you're late home to-night.
However, to-morrow is blessed Sunday, and you can take your rest with
all the other poor creatures God has made His holiday for.'
"'Oh yes, mother,' said Jemmie, her sallow face quite lighted up, 'and
we can have another walk in the Park, you know. Only I wish I could walk
better, it is such slow work hopping along.'
"'So it is, Jemmie,' replied her mother, sighing, 'but thank God, child,
you don't keep your bed; that would break my heart. I hope it'll please
Him to spare me _that_ sorrow, and then I'll be contented if you can
only crawl like a snail.'
"'I wish it was treat time,' said little Susan; 'oh, how we did enjoy
it, mother! if only you had been there! Oh, they were such grand trees
in the forest, mother, they seemed to reach up to the clouds; I'm sure
the birds couldn't build their nests up there! Why they were three times
higher nor these chimbley stacks!'
"'I liked the ride best,' said Jemmie; 'wasn't it nice to be carried
along like that, and resting all the time; and teacher was so kind. She
lent me her thick shawl to sit on; and how nice it was. What a lot of
flowers we brought you, mother. And how nice and dry our acorns have
kept.'
"'When I'm only a little bit older,' said Sam, 'and earn more money,
we'll have such jaunts into the country; won't it be fun to climb a
tree, and lie on the grass!'
"The mother sighed wearily; but she encouraged the children to gossip on
cheerfully, for the work went twice as quick, while the memories were
living over again the few, few days of fresh air and sunshine they had
known. And the work _must_ be done, for the sake of food and shelter,
such as it was. As for clothes, they were not thought of; for they were
darned, patched, and "tidied up," till they were _all_ darn, and only
replaced, when some kind friend gave a cast off garment. Jemmie made
pretty little dolls' bedsteads, the frames of which, made of white wire,
she bent into shape, and strengthened with slender strips of tin. Sam
soldered them neatly together for her in his precious spare time, the
wire and tin being sold to her cheap, cut ready into lengths, by a
friendly tinman. Then Jemmie trimmed them up with white muslin worked
round with gay coloured yarn. They were such pretty little toys that she
found a tolerably ready sale for them.
"'What a sight of work you've got for me, Jemmie!' said Sam, as his
mother cleared away the tea, and his sister got out the wires. 'A chap
ought to have a lot of strength for such a nigger drivin' missus as
you!'
"'Never mind, Sam,' said Jemmie, cheerfully; 'don't do no more nor you
feels inclined for. But Mr. Dobbs had such a lot of bits for _me_ this
week, and as mother was slack of work, she turned to and made up all the
curtains and valances, and I had only to do the wool work. So we've got
a sight of 'em done, and then, if mother has time this week, she thought
she'd take a few round and sell 'em.'
"'So she shall!' said Sam, setting vigorously to work, '_I_ don't mind,
there's lots of work yet in this here feller, all along of your cup of
tea, mother, and the holiday to-morrow.'
"'I think it wouldn't do no harm, Jemmie,' said the widow, as she
finished me, and laid me aside, 'if you was to send one of your
bedsteads to Mr. Nethersole's little Miss. He's kind to Sam, and it
seems only a dutiful way of thanking for all these nice bits. You've got
enough and to spare.'
"'Take one and welcome, Sam,' said Jemmie, limping off to the cupboard
and bringing one out; 'you shall have this here for little Miss. It's
the king of the lot, and is worked in the last bit of magenter wool I've
got.'
"Sam quite approved of this offering to his ruling powers, and on Monday
morning he set off early to his work, refreshed and brightened by his
brief holiday, and very proud of the bedstead, which he carried
carefully in a paper bag.
"It was duly presented, and not only admired, but brought Sam a message
which made him tear home at headlong speed after his day's work, and
face the stairs with the desperate energy that helps a soldier to storm
a wall, and that carried Sam, hot and breathless, into the room to tell
the good news in gasps that frightened Susan out of her wits, and nearly
drove his mother frantic. At last, by patting his back, and making him
sit in her low chair by the open window, the calmer Jemmie found out
that Mrs. Nethersole had sent to say she liked the doll's bedstead so
much that she should be glad to have three dozen like them, for which
she would give five-and-twenty shillings a dozen, as she was going to
have a stall at a very large bazaar, and had not much time to work for
it herself.
"'And you can make a lot of balls, mother, and she'll try and sell 'em
for you, and will guarantee two dozen at sixpence each. She's a jolly
brick, mother, that she is! But the best of it is to come, for they had
me into the parlour and asked me all about us; and master has riz my
wages a shilling a week. I'm the happiest chap in London, and I'll never
call him "old skinny" no more, that I won't! Hurray, Jemmie! Up ye goes
Sue.'
"I am sorry, my friends," said the Ball, "I can tell you no more of
them; for you see I was packed up with the rest and sent off to the
Crystal Palace, where Mrs. Spenser bought me on the bazaar day, and I
have lived among you ever since. But I should like to know how Sam, and
Jemmie, and little Sue are getting on."
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