Then perhaps he will hear us and awaken and answer; perhaps he will
come."
So they all called in chorus,--Fido and the other honest friends. They
called so loudly that the still air of that autumn morning was strangely
startled, and the old woodchuck in the pasture way off yonder heard the
echoes and wondered.
"Little boy! little boy!" they called, "why are you sleeping? Why are
you sleeping, little boy?"
Call on, dear voices! but the little boy will never hear. The dimpled
hands that caressed you are indeed folded upon his breast; the lips that
kissed your honest faces are sealed; the baby voice that sang your
playtime songs with you is hushed, and all about him is the fragrance
and the beauty of flowers. Call on, O honest friends! but he shall never
hear your calling; for, as if he were aweary of the love and play and
sunshine that were all he knew of earth, our darling is asleep forever.
1885.
* * * * *
The Old Man.
THE OLD MAN.
I called him the Old Man, but he wuzn't an old man; he wuz a little
boy--our fust one; 'nd his gran'ma, who'd had a heap of experience in
sich matters, allowed that he wuz for looks as likely a child as she'd
ever clapped eyes on. Bein' our fust, we sot our hearts on him, and
Lizzie named him Willie, for that wuz the name she liked best, havin'
had a brother Willyum killed in the war. But I never called him anything
but the Old Man, and that name seemed to fit him, for he wuz one of your
sollum babies,--alwuz thinkin' 'nd thinkin' 'nd thinkin', like he wuz a
jedge, and when he laffed it wuzn't like other children's laffs, it wuz
so sad-like.
Lizzie 'nd I made it up between us that when the Old Man growed up we'd
send him to collige 'nd give him a lib'ril edication, no matter though
we had to sell the farm to do it. But we never cud exactly agree as to
what we was goin' to make of him; Lizzie havin' her heart sot on his
bein' a preacher like his gran'pa Baker, and I wantin' him to be a
lawyer 'nd git rich out'n the corporations, like his uncle Wilson
Barlow. So we never come to no definite conclusion as to what the Old
Man wuz goin' to be bime by; but while we wuz thinkin' 'nd debatin' the
Old Man kep' growin' 'nd growin', and all the time he wuz as serious 'nd
sollum as a jedge.
Lizzie got jest wrapt up in that boy; toted him round ever'where 'nd
never let on like it made her tired,--powerful big 'nd hearty child too,
but heft warn't nothin' 'longside of Lizzie's love for the Old Man. When
he caught the measles from Sairy Baxter's baby Lizzie sot up day 'nd
night till he wuz well, holdin' his hands 'nd singin' songs to him, 'nd
cryin' herse'f almost to death because she dassent give him cold water
to drink when he called f'r it. As for me, _my_ heart wuz wrapt up in
the Old Man, _too_, but, bein' a man, it wuzn't for me to show it like
Lizzie, bein' a woman; and now that the Old Man is--wall, now that he
has gone, it wouldn't do to let on how much I sot by him, for that would
make Lizzie feel all the wuss.
Sometimes, when I think of it, it makes me sorry that I didn't show the
Old Man some way how much I wuz wrapt up in him. Used to hold him in my
lap 'nd make faces for him 'nd alder whistles 'nd things; sometimes I'd
kiss him on his rosy cheek, when nobody wuz lookin'; oncet I tried to
sing him a song, but it made him cry, 'nd I never tried my hand at
singin' again. But, somehow, the Old Man didn't take to me like he took
to his mother: would climb down outern my lap to git where Lizzie wuz;
would hang on to her gownd, no matter what she wuz doin',--whether she
was makin' bread, or sewin', or puttin' up pickles, it wuz alwuz the
same to the Old Man; he wuzn't happy unless he wuz right there, clost
beside his mother.
Most all boys, as I've heern tell, is proud to be round with their
father, doin' what _he_ does 'nd wearin' the kind of clothes _he_ wears.
But the Old Man wuz diff'rent; he allowed that his mother wuz his best
friend, 'nd the way he stuck to her--wall, it has alwuz been a great
comfort to Lizzie to recollect it.
The Old Man had a kind of confidin' way with his mother. Every oncet in
a while, when he'd be playin' by hisself in the front room, he'd call
out, "Mudder, mudder;" and no matter where Lizzie wuz,--in the kitchen,
or in the wood-shed, or in the yard, she'd answer: "What is it,
darlin'?" Then the Old Man 'ud say: "Tum here, mudder, I wanter tell you
sumfin'." Never could find out what the Old Man wanted to tell Lizzie;
like 's not he didn't wanter tell her nothin'; may be he wuz lonesome
'nd jest wanted to feel that Lizzie wuz round. But that didn't make no
diff'rence; it wuz all the same to Lizzie. No matter where she wuz or
what she wuz a-doin', jest as soon as the Old Man told her he wanted to
tell her somethin' she dropped ever'thing else 'nd went straight to him.
Then the Old Man would laff one of his sollum, sad-like laffs, 'nd put
his arms round Lizzie's neck 'nd whisper--or pertend to
whisper--somethin' in her ear, 'nd Lizzie would laff 'nd say, "Oh, what
a nice secret we have atween us!" and then she would kiss the Old Man
'nd go back to her work.
Time changes all things,--all things but memory, nothin' can change
_that_. Seems like it wuz only yesterday or the day before that I heern
the Old Man callin', "Mudder, mudder, I wanter tell you sumfin'," and
that I seen him put his arms around her neck 'nd whisper softly to her.
It had been an open winter, 'nd there wuz fever all around us. The
Baxters lost their little girl, and Homer Thompson's children had all
been taken down. Ev'ry night 'nd mornin' we prayed God to save our
darlin'; but one evenin' when I come up from the wood lot, the Old Man
wuz restless 'nd his face wuz hot 'nd he talked in his sleep. May be
you've been through it yourself,--may be you've tended a child that's
down with the fever; if so, may be you know what we went through, Lizzie
'nd me. The doctor shook his head one night when he come to see the Old
Man; we knew what that meant. I went out-doors,--I couldn't stand it in
the room there, with the Old Man seein' 'nd talkin' about things that
the fever made him see. I wuz too big a coward to stay 'nd help his
mother to bear up; so I went out-doors 'nd brung in wood,--brung in wood
enough to last all spring,--and then I sat down alone by the kitchen
fire 'nd heard the clock tick 'nd watched the shadders flicker through
the room.
I remember Lizzie's comin' to me and sayin': "He's breathin'
strange-like, 'nd has little feet is cold as ice." Then I went into the
front chamber where he lay. The day wuz breakin'; the cattle wuz lowin'
outside; a beam of light come through the winder and fell on the Old
Man's face,--perhaps it wuz the summons for which he waited and which
shall some time come to me 'nd you. Leastwise the Old Man roused from
his sleep 'nd opened up his big blue eyes. It wuzn't me he wanted to
see.
"Mudder! mudder!" cried the Old Man, but his voice warn't strong 'nd
clear like it used to be. "Mudder, where _be_ you, mudder?"
Then, breshin' by me, Lizzie caught the Old Man up 'nd held him in her
arms, like she had done a thousand times before.
"What is it, darlin'? _Here_ I be," says Lizzie.
"Tum here," says the Old Man,--"tum here; I wanter tell you sumfin'."
The Old Man went to reach his arms around her neck 'nd whisper in her
ear. But his arms fell limp and helpless-like, 'nd the Old Man's curly
head drooped on his mother's breast.
1889.
* * * * *
Bill, the Lokil Editor.
BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR.
Bill wuz alluz fond uv children 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Aint it kind o'
curious how sometimes we find a great, big, awkward man who loves sech
things? Bill had the biggest feet in the township, but I'll bet my
wallet that he never trod on a violet in all his life. Bill never took
no slack from enny man that wuz sober, but the children made him play
with 'em, and he'd set for hours a-watchin' the yaller-hammer buildin'
her nest in the old cottonwood.
Now I aint defendin' Bill; I'm jest tellin' the truth about him. Nothink
I kin say one way or t'other is goin' to make enny difference now;
Bill's dead 'nd buried, 'nd the folks is discussin' him 'nd wond'rin'
whether his immortal soul is all right. Sometimes I _hev_ worried 'bout
Bill, but I don't worry 'bout him no more. Uv course Bill had his
faults,--I never liked that drinkin' business uv his'n, yet I allow that
Bill got more good out'n likker, and likker got more good out'n Bill,
than I ever see before or sence. It warn't when the likker wuz in Bill
that Bill wuz at his best, but when he hed been on to one uv his bats
'nd had drunk himself sick 'nd wuz comin' out uv the other end of the
bat, then Bill wuz one uv the meekest 'nd properest critters you ever
seen. An' potry? Some uv the most beautiful potry I ever read wuz writ
by Bill when he wuz recoverin' himself out'n one uv them bats. Seemed
like it kind uv exalted an' purified Bill's nachur to git drunk an' git
over it. Bill cud drink more likker 'nd be sorrier for it than any other
man in seven States. There never wuz a more penitent feller than he wuz
when he wuz soberin'. The trubble with Bill seemed to be that his
conscience didn't come on watch quite of'n enuff.
It'll be ten years come nex' spring sence Bill showed up here. I don't
know whar he come from; seemed like he didn't want to talk about his
past. I allers suspicioned that he had seen trubble--maybe, sorrer. I
reecollect that one time he got a telegraph,--Mr. Ivins told me 'bout
it afterwards,--and when he read it he put his hands up to his face 'nd
groaned, like. That day he got full uv likker 'nd he kep' full of likker
for a week; but when he come round all right he wrote a pome for the
paper, 'nd the name of the pome wuz "Mary," but whether Mary wuz his
sister or his wife or an old sweetheart uv his'n I never knew. But it
looked from the pome like she wuz dead 'nd that he loved her.
Bill wuz the best lokil the paper ever had. He didn't hustle around
much, but he had a kind er pleasin' way uv dishin' things up. He cud be
mighty comical when he sot out to be, but his best holt was serious
pieces. Nobody could beat Bill writin' obituaries. When old Mose
Holbrook wuz dyin' the minister sez to him: "Mr. Holbrook, you seem to
be sorry that you're passin' away to a better land?"
"Wall, no; not exactly _that_," sez Mose, "but to be frank with you, I
_hev_ jest one regret in connection with this affair."
"What's that?" asked the minister.
"I can't help feelin' sorry," sez Mose, "that I aint goin' to hev the
pleasure uv readin' what Bill Newton sez about me in the paper. I know
it'll be sumthin' uncommon fine; I loant him two dollars a year ago last
fall."
The Higginses lost a darned good friend when Bill died. Bill wrote a
pome 'bout their old dog Towze when he wuz run over by Watkins's hay
wagon seven years ago. I'll bet that pome is in every scrap-book in the
county. You couldn't read that pome without cryin',--why, that pome wud
hev brought a dew out on the desert uv Sary. Old Tim Hubbard, the
meanest man in the State, borrered a paper to read the pome, and he wuz
so 'fected by it that he never borrered anuther paper as long as he
lived. I don't more'n half reckon, though, that the Higginses
appreciated what Bill had done for 'em. I never heerd uv their givin'
him anythink more'n a basket uv greenin' apples, and Bill wrote a piece
'bout the apples nex' day.
But Bill wuz at his best when he wrote things about the children,--about
the little ones that died, I mean. Seemed like Bill had a way of his own
of sayin' things that wuz beautiful 'nd tender; he said he loved the
children because they wuz innocent, and I reckon--yes, I know he did,
for the pomes he writ about 'em showed he did.
When our little Alice died I started out for Mr. Miller's; he wuz the
undertaker. The night wuz powerful dark, 'nd it wuz all the darker to
me, because seemed like all the light hed gone out in my life. Down near
the bridge I met Bill; he weaved round in the road, for he wuz in
likker.
"Hello, Mr. Baker," sez he, "whar be you goin' this time o' night?"
"Bill," sez I, "I'm goin' on the saddest errand uv my life."
"What d'ye mean?" sez he, comin' up to me as straight as he cud.
"Why, Bill," sez I, "our little girl--my little girl--Allie, you
know--she's dead."
I hoarsed up so I couldn't say much more. And Bill didn't say nothink at
all; he jest reached me his hand, and he took my hand and seemed like in
that grasp his heart spoke many words of comfort to mine. And nex' day
he had a piece in the paper about our little girl; we cut it out and put
it in the big Bible in the front room. Sometimes when we get to
fussin', Martha goes 'nd gets that bit of paper 'nd reads it to me; then
us two kind uv cry to ourselves, 'nd we make it up between us for the
dead child's sake.
Well, you kin see how it wuz that so many uv us liked Bill; he had
soothed our hearts,--there's nothin' like sympathy after all. Bill's
potry hed heart in it; it didn't surprise you or scare you; it jest got
down in under your vest, 'nd before you knew it you wuz all choked up. I
know all about your fashionable potry and your famous potes,--Martha
took Godey's for a year. Folks that live in the city can't write
potry,--not the real, genuine article. To write potry, as I figure it,
the heart must have somethin' to feed on; you can't get that somethin'
whar there aint trees 'nd grass 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Bill loved these
things, and he fed his heart on 'em, and that's why his potry wuz so
much better than anybody else's.
I aint worryin' much about Bill now; I take it that everythink is for
the best. When they told me that Bill died in a drunken fit I felt that
his end oughter have come some other way,--he wuz too good a man for
that. But maybe, after all, it was ordered for the best. Jist imagine
Bill a-standin' up for jedgment; jist imagine that poor, sorrowful,
shiverin' critter waitin' for his turn to come. Pictur', if you can, how
full uv penitence he is, 'nd how full uv potry 'nd gentleness 'nd
misery. The Lord aint agoin' to be too hard on that poor wretch. Of
course we can't comprehend Divine mercy; we only know that it is full of
compassion,--a compassion infinitely tenderer and sweeter than ours. And
the more I think on 't, the more I reckon that Bill will plead to win
that mercy, for, like as not, the little ones--my Allie with the
rest--will run to him when they see him in his trubble and will hold his
tremblin' hands 'nd twine their arms about him, and plead, with him, for
compassion.
You've seen an old sycamore that the lightnin' has struck; the ivy has
reached up its vines 'nd spread 'em all around it 'nd over it, coverin'
its scars 'nd splintered branches with a velvet green 'nd fillin' the
air with fragrance. You've seen this thing and you know that it is
beautiful.
That's Bill, perhaps, as he stands up f'r jedgment,--a miserable,
tremblin', 'nd unworthy thing, perhaps, but twined about, all over, with
singin' and pleadin' little children--and that is pleasin' in God's
sight, I know.
What would you--what would _I_--say, if we wuz setin' in jedgment then?
Why, we'd jest kind uv bresh the moisture from our eyes 'nd say: "Mister
recordin' angel, you may nolly pros this case 'nd perseed with the
docket."
1888.
* * * * *
The Little Yaller Baby.
THE LITTLE YALLER BABY.
I hev allus hed a good opinion uv the wimmin folks. I don't look at 'em
as some people do; uv course they're a necessity--just as men are. Uv
course if there warn't no wimmin folks there wouldn't be no men
folks--leastwise that's what the medikil books say. But I never wuz much
on discussin' humin economy; what I hev allus thought 'nd said wuz that
wimmin folks wuz a kind uv luxury, 'nd the best kind, too. Maybe it's
because I haint hed much to do with 'em that I'm sot on 'em. Never did
get real well acquainted with more 'n three or four uv 'em in all my
life; seemed like it wuz meant that I shouldn't hev 'em round me as most
men hev. Mother died when I wuz a little tyke, an' Ant Mary raised me
till I wuz big enuff to make my own livin'. Down here in the Southwest,
you see, most uv the girls is boys; there aint none uv them civilizin'
influences folks talk uv,--nothin' but flowers 'nd birds 'nd such things
as poetry tells about. So I kind uv growed up with the curis notion that
wimmin folks wuz too good for our part uv the country, 'nd I hevn't
quite got that notion out'n my head yet.
One time--wall, I reckon 't wuz about four years ago--I got a letter
frum ol' Col. Sibley to come up to Saint Louey 'nd consult with him
'bout some stock int'rests we hed together. Railroad travellin' wuz no
new thing to me. I hed been prutty posperous,--hed got past hevin' to
ride in a caboose 'nd git out at every stop to punch up the steers. Hed
money in the Hoost'n bank 'nd use to go to Tchicargo oncet a year; hed
met Fill Armer 'nd shook hands with him, 'nd oncet the city papers hed a
colume article about my bein' a millionnaire; uv course 't warn't so,
but a feller kind uv likes that sort uv thing, you know.
The mornin' after I got that letter from Col. Sibley I started for Saint
Louey. I took a bunk in the Pullman car, like I hed been doin' for six
years past; 'nd I reckon the other folks must hev thought I wuz a heap
uv a man, for every haff-hour I give the nigger haf a dollar to bresh me
off. The car wuz full uv people,--rich people, too, I reckon, for they
wore good clo'es 'nd criticised the scenery. Jest across frum me there
wuz a lady with a big, fat baby,--the pruttiest woman I hed seen in a
month uv Sundays; and the baby! why, doggone my skin, when I wuzn't
payin' money to the nigger, darned if I didn't set there watchin' the
big, fat little cuss, like he wuz the only baby I ever seen. I aint much
of a hand at babies, 'cause I haint seen many uv 'em, 'nd when it comes
to handlin' 'em--why, that would break me all up, 'nd like 's not 't
would break the baby all up too. But it has allus been my notion that
nex' to the wimmin folks babies wuz jest about the nicest things on
earth. So the more I looked at that big, fat little baby settin' in its
mother's lap 'cross the way, the more I wanted to look; seemed like I
wuz hoodooed by the little tyke; 'nd the first thing I knew there wuz
water in my eyes; don't know why it is, but it allus makes me kind ur
slop over to set 'nd watch a baby cooin' 'nd playin' in its mother's
lap.
"Look a' hyar, Sam," says I to the nigger, "come hyar 'nd bresh me off
agin! Why aint you tendin' to bizniss?"
But it didn't do no good 't all; pertendin' to be cross with the nigger
might fool the other folks in the car, but it didn't fool me. I wuz dead
stuck on that baby--gol durn his pictur'! And there the little tyke set
in its mother's lap, doublin' up its fists 'nd tryin' to swaller 'em,
'nd talkin' like to its mother in a lingo I couldn't understan', but
which the mother could, for she talked back to the baby in a soothin'
lingo which I couldn't understand but which I liked to hear, 'nd she
kissed the baby 'nd stroked its hair 'nd petted it like wimmin do.
It made me mad to hear them other folks in the car criticisn' the
scenery 'nd things. A man's in mighty poor bizness, anyhow, to be
lookin' at scenery when there's a woman in sight,--a woman _and_ a baby!
Prutty soon--oh, maybe in a hour or two--the baby began to fret 'nd
worrit. Seemed to me like the little critter wuz hungry. Knowin' that
there wuzn't no eatin'-house this side uv Bowieville, I jest called the
train boy, 'nd says I to him: "Hev you got any victuals that will do
for a baby?"
"How is oranges 'nd bananas?" says he.
"That ought to do," sez I. "Jist do up a dozen uv your best oranges 'nd
a dozen uv your best bananas 'nd take 'em over to that baby with my
complerments."
But before he could do it, the lady hed laid the baby on one uv her arms
'nd hed spread a shawl over its head 'nd over her shoulder, 'nd all uv a
suddin' the baby quit worritin' and seemed like he hed gone to sleep.
When we got to York Crossin' I looked out'n the winder 'nd seen some men
carryin' a long pine box up towards the baggage car. Seein' their hats
off, I knew there wuz a dead body in the box, 'nd I couldn't help
feelin' sorry for the poor creetur that hed died in that lonely place uv
York Crossin'; but I mought hev felt a heap sorrier for the creeters
that hed to live there, for I'll allow that York Crossin' is a _leetle_
the durnedest lonesomest place I ever seen.
Well, just afore the train started agin, who should come into the car
but Bill Woodson, and he wuz lookin' powerful tough. Bill herded cattle
for me three winters, but hed moved away when he married one uv the
waiter girls at Spooner's hotel at Hoost'n.
"Hello, Bill," says I; "what air you totin' so kind uv keerful-like in
your arms there?"
"Why, I've got the baby," says he; 'nd as he said it the tears come up
into his eyes.
"Your own baby, Bill?" says I.
"Yes," says he. "Nellie took sick uv the janders a fortnight ago,
'nd--'nd she died, 'nd I'm takin' her body up to Texarkany to bury. She
lived there, you know, 'nd I'm goin' to leave the baby there with its
gran'ma."
Poor Bill! it wuz his wife that the men were carryin' in that pine box
to the baggage car.
"Likely lookin' baby, Bill," says I, cheerful like. "Perfect pictur' uv
its mother; kind uv favors you round the lower part uv the face, tho'."
I said this to make Bill feel happier. If I'd told the truth, I'd 've
said the baby wuz a sickly, yaller-lookin' little thing, for so it wuz;
looked haff-starved, too. Couldn't help comparin' it with that big, fat
baby in its mother's arms over the way.
"Bill," says I, "here's a ten-dollar note for the baby, 'nd God bless
you!"
"Thank ye, Mr. Goodhue," says he, 'nd he choked all up as he moved off
with that yaller little baby in his arms. It warn't very fur up the road
he wuz goin', 'nd he found a seat in one uv the front cars.
But along about an hour after that back come Bill, moseyin' through the
car like he wuz huntin' for somebody. Seemed like he wuz in trubble and
wuz huntin' for a friend.
"Anything I kin do for you, Bill?" says I, but he didn't make no answer.
All of a suddint he sot his eyes on the prutty lady that had the fat
baby sleepin' in her arms, 'nd he made a break for her like he wuz
crazy. He took off his hat 'nd bent down over her 'nd said somethin'
none uv the rest uv us could hear. The lady kind uv started like she wuz
frightened, 'nd then she looked up at Bill 'nd looked him right square
in the countenance. She saw a tall, ganglin', awkward man, with long
yaller hair 'nd frowzy beard, 'nd she saw that he wuz tremblin' 'nd hed
tears in his eyes. She looked down at the fat baby in her arms, 'nd then
she looked out'n the winder at the great stretch uv prairie land, 'nd
seemed like she wuz lookin' off further'n the rest uv us could see.
Then, at last, she turnt around 'nd said, "Yes," to Bill, 'nd Bill went
off into the front car ag'in.
None uv the rest uv us knew what all this meant, but in a minnit Bill
come back with his little yaller baby in his arms, 'nd you never heerd a
baby squall 'nd carry on like that baby wuz squallin' 'nd carryin' on.
Fact is, the little yaller baby was hungry, hungrier'n a wolf, 'nd there
wuz its mother dead in the car up ahead 'nd its gran'ma a good piece up
the road. What did the lady over the way do but lay her own sleepin'
baby down on the seat beside her 'nd take Bill's little yaller baby 'nd
hold it on one arm 'nd cover up its head 'nd her shoulder with a shawl,
jist like she had done with the fat baby not long afore. Bill never
looked at her; he took off his hat and held it in his hand, 'nd turnt
around 'nd stood guard over that mother, 'nd I reckon that ef any man
hed darst to look that way jist then Bill would've cut his heart out.
The little yaller baby didn't cry very long. Seemed like it knowed
there wuz a mother holdin' it,--not its own mother, but a woman whose
life hed been hallowed by God's blessin' with the love 'nd the purity
'nd the sanctity uv motherhood.
Why, I wouldn't hev swapped that sight uv Bill an' them two babies 'nd
that sweet woman for all the cattle in Texas! It jest made me know that
what I'd allus thought uv wimmin was gospel truth. God bless that lady!
I say, wherever she is to-day, 'nd God bless all wimmin folks, for
they're all alike in their unselfishness 'nd gentleness 'nd love!
Bill said, "God bless ye!" too, when she handed him back his poor little
yaller baby. The little creeter wuz fast asleep, 'nd Bill darsent speak
very loud for fear he'd wake it up. But his heart wuz way up in his
mouth when he says "God bless ye!" to that dear lady; 'nd then he added,
like he wanted to let her know that he meant to pay her back when he
could: "I'll do the same for you some time, marm, if I kin."
1888.
* * * * *
The Cyclopeedy.
THE CYCLOPEEDY.